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Then, while Ambition's trump, from age to age,
It's flaughter'd millions boasts; while Fame shall rear
BY CHARLES EMILY, ESQ.
HE feftive roar of laughter, the warm glow
Of brifk-ey'd joy, and friendship's genial bowl,
Wit's feafon'd converfe, and the liberal flow
Of unfufpicious youth, profufe of foul,
Of riot far, and Comus' wild uproar,
Permit me with fad mufings, that infpire
Unlabour'd numbers apt, your filence drear
And those that to the ftreaming ether spread,
The victims each of ruthless fate must fall;
E'en God's own image, Man, high paramount of all.
And ye, the young, the giddy, and the gay,
These many-window'd ifles her glimmering beam ;
Thrice fhall have roll'd her filvery-wheeled team,
Roars in the laugh, and revels o'er the bowl,
Know, on the stealing wing of time shall flee
Muse o'er the present age as I the last;
Who mouldering in the grave, yet once like you
As custom urg'd, or wilful nature led;
Where is the mafter-hand, whofe femblant art
The nerve that beat with foul, the brow that thought!
The mute-attention rivetting, to the lyre
The warrior arm! Where fleeps the patriot breaft
Giant Oppreffion, leagu'd with all her earth-born crew!
These now are paft: long, long, ye fleeting years,
Purfue, with glory wing'd, your fated way, Ere from the womb of time unwelcome peers
The dawn of that inevitable day;
When wrapt in shrouded clay their warmest friend
When o'er his urn in pious grief fhall bend
His Britain, and bewail one patriot more
To fcatter bleffings over humankind, Thou too muft fall, O Pitt! to fhine no more,
And tread those dreadful paths a Faulkland trod before!
Faft to the driving winds the marshall'd cloud's
Another ftill upon another crouds,
All haftening downward to their native mau,
Thus paffes o'er, thro' varied life's career,
Man's fleeting age; the feasons, as they fly, Snatch from us in their courfe, year after year, Some sweet connection, fome endearing tie. The parent, ever-honour'd, ever dear,
Claims from the filial breaft the pious figh; A brother's urn demands the kindred tear,
And gentle forrows gufh from Friendship's eye.
Of jocund youth-the morrow knells us to the tomb.
Who knows how foon, in this fepulchral spot,
Of these that reft beneath me, shall be mine?
Shall waft thee o'er the ftorm'd Hibernian wave,
In the sweet intercourse of foul and foul,
The ling'ring years impatient as they roll,
Till all thy cultur'd virtues fhall display,
Full bloffom'd, their bright honours to the gazing day.
Ah, dearest youth! thefe vows, perhaps unheard,
* Francis, Marquis of Tavistock, only fon to the Duke of Bedford; whose death, which happened on the 22d of March 1767, was occafioned by a fall from his horfe, which he received while hunting a few days before.-Mr. Emily was Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, and had been tutor to the Marquis: he died in the year 1762, being then Major of the Surry militia; five years before the melancholy accident which deprived the world of his noble and univerfally lamented pupil.
Soon, foon may nod the fad funereal plume
The mournful tribute of memorial verse !
With felf-earn'd honours, eager to pursue,
The well-born fpirit lights to deeds of mightiest praife.
'Twas the thy god-like Ruffel's bofom steel'd
Wolfe's gallant virtue flies to worlds afar,
"Twas the, that on the morn of direful birth,
Better to die with glory than recline
On the foft lap of ignominious peace,
Sir John Armytage, member of parliament for the city of York, who was killed at St. Cas, in the year 1758.