Thy calm philosophy, thy soul sedate,
Amid reviling crowds serenely great,
Teach me alike to combat with my woe;
Ah! could I war like thee, and triumph so!
Yet pardon, that alone thy wrongs I name,
And bid th' historic Muse thy deeds proclaim :
They trumpet-tongued for just renown shall plead,
And future patriots envy, as they read.
Sad themes to feebler elegies belong,
And milder virtues grace the moral song:
Thou or retir'd, or at a nation's helm,
Canst sweeten social life, or save a realm;
Meek, when exalted, dauntless when opprest,
Canst smile at tempests, in thyself at rest;
And teach mankind in either state to prize
The conscious mind that cheers each sacrifice.
But tho' stern Wisdom to itself severe
Steel thy firm heart, and check the starting tear, Yet, touch'd by weakness to thyself unknown, Thy bosom bleeds for sorrows not its own.
Weep then with me, as when o'er Eliot's grave*
Thou bad'st the never-dying cypress wave:
Nor scorn the tribute not less duly paid
To early worth, that flourish but to fade;
Ah me! too soon to fade, while yet the bloom
Of hopeful youth announc'd a better doom,
Else had his virtues rais'd one trophy more
To grace the good, the glorious name he bore;
But fate forbad. To sultry climes a prey,
Snatch'd from his home, and weeping friends away,
'Midst hordes unknown, beneath those ruthless skies
Clos'd in a foreign grave my brother lies!
No parent's hand his parting pangs allay'd,
No sister breath'd a requiem to his shade,
See Mr. Hastings's beautiful imitation of Horace, ode xiii. book 2.
An early death was Eliot's doom,
I saw his opening virtues bloom,
And manly sense unfold,
Too soon to fade: I bade the stone
Record his name, 'mid hordes unknown,
Unknowing what it told.
No brethren rang'd along the dreary way Held the black pall, and led the long array: 'Reft of it's dearest dues his injur❜d bier
Unheeded pass'd, nor drank one kindred tear.
One only friend-just Heav'n the deed requite!
One only friend perform'd the solemn rite;
Mourn'd o'er his ashes with a father's care,
And bade the stone a fair memorial bear
Of modest worth, that late aspires to fame,
In all the fragrance of a spotless name.
Dear, generous bard! whose breast congenial knew To prize the virtues, which it harbour'd too; With artless grace their tuneful meed to pour, And by thy practice recommend them more ; Oh! let me bless again thy pious aid, Nor leave my debt of gratitude unpaid; On all thy tender acts of bounty dwell, On all I strongly feel, but feebly tell.
And shall my Muse in profitless despair Still faltering cease th' allotted task to share?
John Herbert Warrington Esqr.
Ah no! for who his merits should attest
But he who felt, rever'd, and lov'd them best;
Shar'd all his thoughts, observ'd his growing worth,
And saw his embryo virtues blossom forth?
What time array'd in friendship's early guise,
Warm from the heart the generous passions rise,
His guileless soul no sordid interest knew,
Firm to each trust, unalterably true;
Slow to solicit, eager to impart,
His liberal hand accorded with his heart:
His was the wish by continence refin'd,
And e'en that wish denied, he ne'er repin'd,
Nor idly gave the selfish sorrow vent,
But gladly shar'd or yielded with content :
His gentle voice, that knew no harsher tone,
Rever'd the menial's feelings as his own;
Attracted, sooth'd, with kind complacence won,
And each domestic lov'd him, as his son.
His ripening years no tyrant vice defil'd, Their wildest flights were innoce Still were his pastimes innocent and mild;
Life's bouyant tide ran chasten'd thro' his veins, Nor e'er to riot gave the slacken'd reins,
But taught his well-pois'd element to gain
That golden mean, which sages preach in vain.
Yet tho' the milder virtues calm'd his breast,
Valour within her ample throne possess❜d:
A foe to broils, unpractis'd in despite,
Bold and determin'd in defence of right,
Of blushing diffidence a sample rare,
Of soul unblemish'd, as of favour fair,
Of manly mind, e'er manhood yet began,
Blameless to God, benevolent to Man,
Such was his youth, so clos'd his speedy race,
A world of worth in life's contracted space.
And could not all retard th' untimely blow,
Nor foil the fatal shaft that laid him low?
Was there no guardian pow'r to interpose
And spare a mother's tears, a father's woes?
Ah! hapless parents! doom'd at life's decline In thwarted hope's keen agony to pine,
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