ELEGIAC MUSINGS. For some rude beauty of its own, Was rescued by the Bard: As one of the departed. 261 This inscription is still preserved on a brass plate in a stone, within the grounds at Rydal Mount.-ED. ELEGIAC MUSINGS. IN THE GROUNDS OF COLEORTON HALL, THE SEAT OF THE LATE [These verses were in part composed on horseback during a storm, while I was on my way from Coleorton to Cambridge: they are alluded to elsewhere.]+ In these grounds stands the Parish Church, wherein is a mural monument bearing an Inscription which, in deference to the earnest request of the deceased, is confined to name, dates, and these words :-"Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O Lord!" WITH copious eulogy in prose or rhyme1 Graven on the tomb we struggle against Time, Alas, how feebly! but our feelings rise Yet here at least, though few have numbered days * Sir George Beaumont died on Feb. 7, 1827.-ED. + See the Fenwick note to the next poem.-ED. 1835. From courtesy and delicate reserve; That sense, the bland philosophy of life, Which checked discussion ere it warmed to strife- That shook the leaves in myriads as it passed;— Intensely studied with a painter's eye, Its mellow lustre round thy honoured head; While Friends beheld thee give with eye, voice, mien, If thou hast heard me-if thy Spirit know Aught of these bowers and whence their pleasures flow; If things in our remembrance held so dear, And thoughts and projects fondly cherished here, Time's vanities, light fragments of earth's dream 1 1837. Those fine accomplishments 1835. Sir George Beaumont used frequently to read Shakspeare aloud to his household and friends at Coleorton.-ED. ELEGIAC MUSINGS. Rebuke1 us not!-The mandate is obeyed That said, "Let praise be mute where I am laid;" The holier deprecation, given in trust To the cold marble, waits upon thy dust; Too long abashed thy Name is like a rose Green ivy risen from out the cheerful earth 263 Will fringe the lettered stone; and herbs spring forth. Whose fragrance, by soft dews and rain unbound, Commemorating genius, talent, skill, That could not lie concealed where Thou wert known; Thy virtues He must judge, and He alone, The God upon whose mercy they are thrown. * This votive Tablet may still be seen, with its "green ivy," "fringing the lettered stone." Compare the Sonnet To the Author's Portrait, p. 265.-ED. [I have reason to remember the day that gave rise to this Sonnet, the 6th of November, 1830. Having undertaken, a great feat for me, to ride my daughter's pony from Westmoreland to Cambridge, that she might have the use of it while on a visit to her uncle at Trinity Lodge, on my way from Batewell to Matlock I turned aside to Chatsworth, and had scarcely gratified my curiosity by the sight of that celebrated place before there came on a severe storm of wind and rain which continued till I reached Derby, both man and pony in a pitiable plight. For myself, I went to bed at noon-day. In the course of that journey I had to encounter a storm worse if possible, in which the pony could (or would) only make his way slantwise. I mention this merely to add that notwithstanding this battering I composed, on horseback, the lines to the memory of Sir George Beaumont, suggested during my recent visit to Coleorton.] CHATSWORTH! thy stately mansion, and the pride Of thy domain, strange contrast do present Yet He whose heart in childhood gave her troth TO THE ATHOR'S PORTRAIT. [Painted at Rydal Mount, by W. Pickersgill, Esq., for St John's College, Cambridge.] [The last six lines of this Sonnet are not written for poetical effect, but as a matter of fact, which, in more than one instance, could not escape my notice in the servants of the house.] TO THE AUTHOR'S PORTRAIT. Go, faithful Portrait! and where long hath knelt To life thou art, and, in thy truth, how dear! 1 1837. Το * The colour has already faded somewhat.--Ed. + Compare Elegiac Musings, p. 263.-ED. 1835. 265 |