In Memory Of Mr Agostino Isola, Of Cambridge, Who Died On The 5th Of June, 1797 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHIJKLMC INOPQRISOTUOVW XUICYZOCA2OB2 C2D2VE2 F2E2E2J

Awake O Gratitude nor let the tearsA
Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voiceB
When it should speak of a departed friendC
A tender friend the first I ever lostD
For Destiny till now was mercifulE
And though I oft have felt a transient pangF
For worth unknown and wept awhile for thoseG
Whom long acquaintance only made me loveH
No keen regret laid pining at my heartI
Nor Memory in the solitary hourJ
Would sting with grief as when she speaksK
Thy virtue knowledge wisdom gentlenessL
Thy venerable age and says that IM
Had once the happiness to call thee friendC
-
Yes I once bore that title and my heartI
Thought nobler of itself that one so goodN
So honor'd so rever'd should give it meO
O Isola when that glad season comesP
Which brought redemption to a ruin'd worldQ
And like thee hides beneath the snow of ageR
A gay benevolent and feeling heartI
I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeatS
With youthful warmth and zealous energyO
Those passages where Poetry assumesT
An air divine and wakes th' attentive soulU
To holy rapture Then you promis'd meO
The luxury to weep o'er Dante's museV
And fair Italia's loftier poets hailW
-
I have often heardX
That years would blunt the feelings of the soulU
And apathy ice the once glowing heartI
Injurious prejudice Dear guileless friendC
Thou read'st mankind but saw not or forgotY
Their faults and vices for thy breast was stillZ
The residence of sweet SimplicityO
Daughter of letter'd Wisdom and the friendC
Of Love and Pity Happy soul farewellA2
Long shall we mourn thee longer will it beO
Ere we shall look upon thy like againB2
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-
-
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This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend was written inC2
the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss and though unworthy of hisD2
virtues is still a small memorial of my respect for a man on whoseV
tomb might justly be inscribed as I have seen on an old monumentE2
-
-
Heven hath his souleF2
He fruits of PietieE2
This Towne his wantE2
Our hearts his MemorieJ

Matilda Betham



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