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Then, while Ambition's tramp, from age to age,
It's slaughter'd millions boasts; while Fame shall rear Her deathless trophies o'er the bard and sage,
Be mine the widow's figh, the orphan's prayer!
D Ε Α Τ Η.
BY CHARLES EMILY, ESQ.
Wit's season'd converse, and the liberal flow
Of unsuspicious youth, profuse of foul,
Of riot far, and Comus' wild uproar,
Was never knit to Wisdom's frowning lore,
Of rude magnificence, your folemn rest,
Lonely to wander ; no anholy guest,
Unlabour'd numbers apt, your filence drear
Fitly attemper'd, soothe the merciless ear Of Hades, and stern Death, whose iron sway
Great Nature owns thro' all her wide domain ; All that with oary fin cleave their smooth way
Thro' the green bofom of the spawny main,
And those that to the streaming ether spread,
In many a wheeling glide, their feathery fail ;
That roam o'er forest, hill, or browzed dale ;
That startle from the sleepful lid of light
Of Bacchus, and loud jollity, affright
These many-window'd isles her glimmering beam ;
Thrice shall have roll'd her filvery-wheeled team,
To the flow pauses of the funeral knoll ;
Roars in the laugh, and revels o'er the bowl,
Some few, some short-liv'd years—and all is pait;
Muse o'er the present age as I the last ;
The various maze of life were seen to tread,
As custom urg'd, or wilful nature led ;
The nobler virtues undistinguish'd lie;
No more to wet Compassion's tearful eye,
Chiliei'd the marble into life, or taught
The nerve that beat with soul, the brow that thought !
The mute-attention rivetting, to the lyre
All in wild raptures fathing heaven's own fire.
The warrior arm! Where sleeps the patriot breast
That lanc'd it's lightning on the towering crest
Pursue, with glory wing'd, your fated way,
The dawn of that inevitable dáy, ;
The widow'd virtues shall again deplore,
cins His Britain, and bewail one patriot more;
2.0 For soon must thou, too soon! who spread'st abroad Thy beaming emanations unconfin'd,
lesbo Doom'd, like some better angel fent of God
011..., To scatter blessings over humankind, Thou too muft fall, O Pitt! to shine no more,
0:13: And tread those dreadful paths.a Faulkland trod before!
un; : Fait to the driving winds the marshall's clouds
Sweep discontinuous o'er th' etherial plain ; Another still upon another crouds,
1904. All hastening downward to their native mail,
: ژن و
Thus pailes o'er, thro' varied life's career,
Man's fleeting age; the feafons, as they fly, Snatch from us in their course, year after year, :,
Some sweet connection, fome endearing tie. The parent, ever-honour'd; ever dear,
Claims from the filial breast the pious figh;
And gentle sorrows gush from Friend/hip’s eye.
Shall Heaven to me the drear, abode asiga ?
Of these that reft beneath me, shall be mine? Haply, when Zephyr to thy native bourn
Shall waft thee o'er the storm'd Hibernian wave, Thy gentle breaft, my Tavistock *, shall mourn
To find me sleeping in the senseless grave. No more the social leisure to divide,
In the sweet intercourse of soul and roul,
The ling’ring years impatient as they roll,
The rude wind scatters o'er the billowy main ;
May rise to grasp their father's knees in vain.
* Francis, Marquis of Tavistock, only son to the Duke of Bedford; whore death, which happened on the 22d of March 1767, was occasioned by a fall from his horse, 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 universally lamented pupil.
Soon, foon may nod the sad funereal plume
With folemn horror o'er thy timeless hearse, And I survive to grave upon thy tomb
The mournful tribute of memorial verse ! T'hat leave to Heaven's decision : be it thine,
Higher than yet a parent's wishes flew,
With felf-earn'd honours, eager to pursue,
With confidence untam'd, in his last breath Stern-smiling. She, with calm composure, held
The patriot'axe of Sidney, edg'd with death. Smit with the warmth of her impulfive flame,
Wolfe's gallant virtue flies to worlds afar, Emulous to pluck fresh wreaths of well-earn'd fame
From the grim frowning brow of laureld war. ''Twas the, that on the morn of direful.birth,
Bare'd thy young bosom to the fatal blow,
O bathe him in the pearly caves below,,
On the foft lap of ignominious peace, "Than yawn out the dull droning life fupine
In monkish apathy and gowned ease.
The least division on the dial's round,
Grown old in Noth, the burden of the ground;
* Sir John Armytage, member of parliament for the city of York, who was killed at St. Cas, in the year 1758.