On the sudden and lamented Death of the Marquis of Downshire, September , 1801.
1.
The Dog-star sunk, and with it drew
To Hope's deluded eye, away
Pandora's imps, an hideous crew,
That gorg'd the grave with hourly prey.
The far-destroying Angel seem'd
To follow the terrific star;
We thought his fiery falchion gleam'd
Its last, in ocean's waves afar.
Autumn, in hymeneal robe,
Of richest green and gold array'd,
To the bright orb, that warms the globe,
His smiling progeny display'd.
'Twas then conceal'd behind the festive pall,
The dark assassin took his secret stand —
Would no kind angel lift a saving hand,
As the grim shadow crost the good-man's hall?
Alas! the fatal dart,
Already reach'd his noble heart,
Before Affection's fervent prayer,
Could pierce th' incumbent air,
Or Paeon's hand employ his usual art!
Mild are the glories of September's moon,
And rich the presents which her reign conveys;
But she has robb'd us of an heaven-sent boon,
Which all her waving wealth but ill repays!
Poor are the floating fields of golden grain
To such a Mind , that when her chearless beam,
Malignant glanc'd upon the niggard plain,
Open'd sweet Mercy's heaven-directed stream.
2.
On Tamari's aerial brow,
I stood to view the scenes below,
Where o'er the yellow fields advancing,
The swains pursued their jocund toil,
In bending files, with sickles glancing,
And of its yesture stript the soil.
And oft they stood in solemn pause.
With fear and pity struck, to view
Some friend, by Fate's relentless laws,
Born to his grave with dirges due.
While from the winding vale, in cadence slow,
Complaining Echo sent the notes of Woe;
Here startled F ANCY saw, in wide survey,
A picture of the judgment day.
To the harvesters of Heaven,
Their office seem'd already given;
And viewless squadrons of the sky,
Seem'd around the task to ply;
On ridgy hill and russet mead,
The swathes and sheaves alternate fell,
And ever and anon was heard,
The deep-ton'd funeral bell:
As death had meant, in active speed,
His rustic rivals to excel.
And many a busy hand appear'd
To cull the TARES , a task severe,
And to their final doom to bear. —
Ye thoughtless men — prepare to meet your God,
And learn to deprecate the lifted rod!
3.
Not such wert THOU , altho' a sudden fate,
Lamented H ILL ! consign'd thee to the dust;
Yet to thy large benevolence, we trust,
Heaven opes the glories of th' empyreal state.
The social virtues all were thine;
And O NE that rose to heights divine;
The man that injured, you forgave,
You pitied sin's entangled slave,
And lur'd him from the fatal snare,
With holy and paternal care;
Till, by thy great example taught,
His heart the glow of virtue caught;
And not (we hope) a transient heat,
Soon from the torpid breast to fleet.
This might seem flattery, while you liv'd to tell;
But flattery now is o'er: —
Hark! to the musick of yon mournful bell;
Yon solemn vault has clos'd the door
On adulation; ye, attend the call,
Whom Heaven, like him allows the means to ease
Pining Worth, or sore Distress;
A dread eye views this air-invested ball,
A giant arm uplifts the cloudy pall,
That shews the realms of Woe, or everlasting Peace.
1.
The Dog-star sunk, and with it drew
To Hope's deluded eye, away
Pandora's imps, an hideous crew,
That gorg'd the grave with hourly prey.
The far-destroying Angel seem'd
To follow the terrific star;
We thought his fiery falchion gleam'd
Its last, in ocean's waves afar.
Autumn, in hymeneal robe,
Of richest green and gold array'd,
To the bright orb, that warms the globe,
His smiling progeny display'd.
'Twas then conceal'd behind the festive pall,
The dark assassin took his secret stand —
Would no kind angel lift a saving hand,
As the grim shadow crost the good-man's hall?
Alas! the fatal dart,
Already reach'd his noble heart,
Before Affection's fervent prayer,
Could pierce th' incumbent air,
Or Paeon's hand employ his usual art!
Mild are the glories of September's moon,
And rich the presents which her reign conveys;
But she has robb'd us of an heaven-sent boon,
Which all her waving wealth but ill repays!
Poor are the floating fields of golden grain
To such a Mind , that when her chearless beam,
Malignant glanc'd upon the niggard plain,
Open'd sweet Mercy's heaven-directed stream.
2.
On Tamari's aerial brow,
I stood to view the scenes below,
Where o'er the yellow fields advancing,
The swains pursued their jocund toil,
In bending files, with sickles glancing,
And of its yesture stript the soil.
And oft they stood in solemn pause.
With fear and pity struck, to view
Some friend, by Fate's relentless laws,
Born to his grave with dirges due.
While from the winding vale, in cadence slow,
Complaining Echo sent the notes of Woe;
Here startled F ANCY saw, in wide survey,
A picture of the judgment day.
To the harvesters of Heaven,
Their office seem'd already given;
And viewless squadrons of the sky,
Seem'd around the task to ply;
On ridgy hill and russet mead,
The swathes and sheaves alternate fell,
And ever and anon was heard,
The deep-ton'd funeral bell:
As death had meant, in active speed,
His rustic rivals to excel.
And many a busy hand appear'd
To cull the TARES , a task severe,
And to their final doom to bear. —
Ye thoughtless men — prepare to meet your God,
And learn to deprecate the lifted rod!
3.
Not such wert THOU , altho' a sudden fate,
Lamented H ILL ! consign'd thee to the dust;
Yet to thy large benevolence, we trust,
Heaven opes the glories of th' empyreal state.
The social virtues all were thine;
And O NE that rose to heights divine;
The man that injured, you forgave,
You pitied sin's entangled slave,
And lur'd him from the fatal snare,
With holy and paternal care;
Till, by thy great example taught,
His heart the glow of virtue caught;
And not (we hope) a transient heat,
Soon from the torpid breast to fleet.
This might seem flattery, while you liv'd to tell;
But flattery now is o'er: —
Hark! to the musick of yon mournful bell;
Yon solemn vault has clos'd the door
On adulation; ye, attend the call,
Whom Heaven, like him allows the means to ease
Pining Worth, or sore Distress;
A dread eye views this air-invested ball,
A giant arm uplifts the cloudy pall,
That shews the realms of Woe, or everlasting Peace.