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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.


HE festive roar of laughter, the warm glow


Wit's season'd converse, and the liberal flow

Of unsuspicious youth, profuse of foul,
Delight not ever ; from the boisterous scene

Of riot far, and Comus' wild uproar,
From Folly's crowd, whose vacant brow serene

Was never knit to Wisdom's frowning lore,
Permit me, ye time-hallow'd domes, ye piles

Of rude magnificence, your folemn rest,
Amid your fretted vaults and length’ning isles,

Lonely to wander ; no anholy guest,
That means to break, with facrilegious tread,
The marble slumbers of your monumented dead.

Permit me with fad musings, that inspire

Unlabour'd numbers apt, your filence drear
Blameless to wake, and with th’Orphean lyre

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,



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And those that to the streaming ether spread,

In many a wheeling glide, their feathery fail ;
And those that creep; and those that statelier tread,

That roam o'er forest, hill, or browzed dale ;
The vi&tims 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,

That startle from the sleepful lid of light
The curtain'd rest, and with the diffonant bray

Of Bacchus, and loud jollity, affright
Yon radiant goddess, that now shoots among

These many-window'd isles her glimmering beam ;
Know, that or ere it's starr'd career along

Thrice shall have roll'd her filvery-wheeled team,
Some parent breast may heave the answering figh,

To the flow pauses of the funeral knoll ;
E'en now black Atropos, with scowling eye,

Roars in the laugh, and revels o'er the bowl,
E’en now in rosy-crowned Pleasure's wreath
Entwines in adder folds all unsuspected Death.

Know, on the stealing wing of time shall flee

Some few, some short-liv'd years—and all is pait;
A future bard these awful domes may see,

Muse o'er the present age as I the last ;
Who mouldering in the grave, yet once like you

The various maze of life were seen to tread,
Each bent their own peculiar to pursue,

As custom urg'd, or wilful nature led ;
Mix'd with the various crowd's inglorious clay,

The nobler virtues undistinguish'd lie;
No more to melt with Beauty's heav'n-born ray,

No more to wet Compassion's tearful eye,
Catch from the poet raptures not their own,
And feel the thrilling melody of sweet renown.

V. Where

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Where is the master-hand, whose femblant art

Chiliei'd the marble into life, or taught
From the well-pencil'd portraiture to start

The nerve that beat with soul, the brow that thought !
Cold are the fingers that in stone-fix'd trance

The mute-attention rivetting, to the lyre
Struck language: dimm’d the poet's quick-ey'd glance,

All in wild raptures fathing heaven's own fire.
Shrunk is the finew'd energy, that ftrung

The warrior arm! Where sleeps the patriot breast
Whilome that heav'd impaffion'd! where the tongue

That lanc'd it's lightning on the towering crest
Of scepter'd insolence, and overthrew
Giant Oppreffion, leagu'd with all her earth-born crew!

VI. (erano
These now are past: long, long, ye fleeting years,

Pursue, with glory wing'd, your fated way,
Ere from the womb of time unwelcome peers

The dawn of that inevitable dáy, ;
When wrapt in shroudest clay their warmest friend

The widow'd virtues shall again deplore,
When o'er his urn in pious grief Mall bend

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,

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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;
A brother's urn demands the kindred tear,

And gentle sorrows gush from Friend/hip’s eye.
To-day we frolick in the rofy bloom
Of jocund youth-the morrow knells us to the tomb.

Who knows how foon, in this fepulchral spot,

Shall Heaven to me the drear, abode asiga ?
How soon the past irrevocable lot

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,
Blythe, or of graver brow; no more to chide

The ling’ring years impatient as they roll,
Till all thy cultur’d virtues shall display,
Pull blossom'd, their bright honours to the gazing day.

Ah, dearest youth! these vows, perhaps unheard,

The rude wind scatters o'er the billowy main ;
These prayers, at Friendship's holy Trine preferr'd,

May rise to grasp their father's knees in vain.

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* 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.



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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,
To foar in bright pre-eminence, and shine

With felf-earn'd honours, eager to pursue,
Where glory, with her clear unfully'd rays,
The well-born spirit lights to deeds of mightiest praife.

'Twas she thy god-like Ruffel's bofom steel'd

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,
Lamented Armytage * ! the bleeding youth !

O bathe him in the pearly caves below,,
Ye Nereids and ye Nymphs of Camus hoar,
Weep-for ye oft have seen him on your haunted hore.

Better to die with glory than recline

On the foft lap of ignominious peace, "Than yawn out the dull droning life fupine

In monkish apathy and gowned ease.
Better employ'd, in honour's bright career,

The least division on the dial's round,
Than thrice to compass Saturn's live long year,

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.


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