Published in The poetical works of Rogers, Campbell, J. Montgomery, Lamb, and Kirke White: The Poetical Works of James Montgomery. (1830) p. 124.



"THE JOY OF GRIEF"
Ossian.

SWEET the hour of tribulation,
  When the heart can freely sigh;
And the tear of resignation
  Twinkles in the mournful eye.

Have you felt a kind emotion
  Tremble through your troubled breast;
Soft as evening o'er the ocean,
  When she charms the waves to rest?

Have you lost a friend, or brother?
  Heard a father's parting breath?
Gazed upon a lifeless mother.
  Till she seem'd to wake from death?

Have you felt a spouse expiring
  In your arms, before your view?
Watch'd the lovely soul retiring
  From her eyes that broke on you?

Did not grief then grow romantic.
  Raving on remember'd bliss?
Did you not, with fervor frantic,
  Kiss the lips that felt no kiss?

Yes! but, when you had resign'd her,
  Life and you were reconciled ;
Anna left—she left behind her,
  One, one dear, one only child.

But before the green moss peeping,
  His poor mother's grave array'd,
In that grave the infant sleeping
  On the mother's lap was laid.

Horror then, your heart congealing,
  Chill'd you with intense despair:
Can you call to mind the feeling?—
  No! there was no feeling there.

From that gloomy trance of sorrow
  When you woke to pangs unknown,
How unwelcome was the morrow,
  For it rose on you alone!

Sunk in self-consuming anguish,
  Can the poor heart always ache?
No! the tortured nerve will languish,
  Or the strings of life must break.

O'er the yielding brow of Sadness
  One faint smile of comfort stole;
One soft pang of tender gladness
  Exquisitely thrill'd your soul.

While the wounds of woe are healing,
  While the heart is all resign'd;
'Tis a solemn feast of feeling,
  'Tis the sabbath of the mind.

Pensive memory then retraces
  Scenes of bliss for ever fled,
Lives in former times and places,
  Holds communion with the dead.

And when night's prophetic slumbers
  Rend the veil to mortal eyes.
From their tombs the sainted numbers
  Of our lost companions rise.

You have seen a friend, a brother,
  Heard a dear dead father speak;
Proved the fondness of a mother,
  Felt her tears upon your cheek.

Dreams of love your grief beguiling,
  You have clasp'd a consort's charms.
And received your infant smiling
  From his mother's sacred arms.

Trembling, pale, and agonizing,
  While you mourn'd the vision gone,
Bright the morning-star arising
  Open'd heaven, from whence it shone

Thither all your wishes bending,
  Rose in ecstacy sublime,
Thither all your hopes ascending
  Triumph'd over death and time.

Thus afflicted, bruised, and broken.
  Have you known such sweet relief?
Yes, my friend ; and by this token.
  You have felt "the joy of grief."