If then Controul imperious, Check severe,
Be needed where such reverend Men appear;
To what would Youth, without such Checks, aspire,
Free the wild Wish, uncurb'd the strong Desire?
And where (in College or in Camp) they found
The Heart ungovern'd and the Hand unbound?
His House endow'd, the generous Man resign'd
All Power to Rule, nay Power of Choice declin'd;
He and the female Saint surviv'd to view
Their Work complete, and bade the World adieu!
Six are the Guardians of this happy Seat,
And one presides when they on Business meet;
As each expires, the five a Brother choose;
Nor would Sir Denys Brand the Charge refuse;
True, 'twas beneath him," but to do Men good
"Was motive never by his Heart withstood:"
He too is gone, and they again must strive
To find a Man in whom his Gifts survive.
Now, in the various Records of the Dead,
Thy Worth, Sir Denys, shall be weigh'd and read;
There we the Glory of thy House shall trace,
With each Alliance of thy noble Race.
Yes! here we have him!" Came in William's Reign, "The Norman-Brand; the Blood without a stain; "From the fierce Dane and ruder Saxon clear, "Pict, Irish, Scot, or Cambrian Mountaineer; "But the pure Norman was the sacred Spring, "And he, Sir Denys, was in Heart a King: "Erect in Person and so firm in Soul, "Fortune he seem'd to govern and controul; "Generous as he who gives his all away, "Prudent as one who toils for weekly Pay; "In him all Merits were decreed to meet, "Sincere though cautious, frank and yet discreet,
"Just all his Dealings, faithful every Word,
"His Passions' Master, and his Temper's Lord."
Yet more, kind Dealers in decaying Fame?
His Magnanimity you next proclaim;
You give him Learning, join'd with sound good Sense, And match his Wealth with his Benevolence;
What hides the multitude of Sins, you add,
Yet seem to doubt if Sins he ever had.
Poor honest Truth! thou writ'st of living Men,
And art a Railer and Detractor then;
They die, again to be describ'd, and now
A Foe to Merit and Mankind art thou!
Why banish Truth? it injures not the Dead,
It aids not them with Flattery to be fed;
And when Mankind such perfect Pictures view,
They copy less, the more they think them true.
Let us a Mortal as he was behold,
And see the Dross adhering to the Gold;
When we the Errors of the Virtuous state,
Then erring Men their Worth may emulate.
View then this Picture of a noble Mind,
Let him be wise, magnanimous, and kind;
What was the Wisdom? Was it not the Frown
That keeps all Question, all Inquiry down?
His Words were powerful and decisive all,
But his slow Reasons came for no Man's call.
""Tis thus," he cried, no doubt with kind intent,
To give Results and spare all Argument:—
"Let it be spar'd—all Men at least agree
"Sir Denys Brand had Magnanimity:
"His were no vulgar Charities; none saw
"Him like the Merchant to the Hut withdraw;
"He left to meaner Minds the simple Deed,
"By which the Houseless rest, the Hungry feed;
"His was a public Bounty vast and grand,
""Twas not in him to work with viewless hand; "He rais'd the Room that towers above the Street, "A public Room where grateful Parties meet ; "He first the Life-boat plann'd; to him the Place "Is deep in Debt-'twas he reviv'd the Race; "To every public Act this hearty Friend "Would give with freedom or with frankness lend; "His Money built the Jail, nor Prisoner yet "Sits at his Ease, but he must feel the Debt; "To these let Candour add his vast Display, "Around his Mansion all is grand and gay, "And this is Bounty with the name of Pay."
I grant the whole, nor from one Deed retract,
But wish recorded too the private Act;
All these were great, but still our Hearts approve
Those simpler Tokens of the Christian Love;
"Twould give me Joy some gracious Deed to meet,
That has not call'd for Glory through the Street:
Who felt for many, could not always shun,
In some soft moment, to be kind to one;
And yet they tell us, when Şir Denys died,
That not a Widow in the Borough sigh'd;
Great were his Gifts, his mighty Heart I own,
But why describe what all the World has known?
The rest is petty Pride, the useless art
Of a vain Mind to hide a swelling Heart:
Small was his private Room; Men found him there
By a plain Table, on a paltry Chair;
A wretched Floor-cloth, and some Prints around,
The easy purchase of a single Pound:
These humble Trifles and that Study small
Make a strong Contrast with the Servants' Hall;
There barely Comfort, here a proud Excess,
The pompous Seat of pamper'd Idleness,
Where the sleek Rogues with one consent declare,
They would not live upon his Honour's Fare;
He daily took but one half-hour to dine,
On one poor Dish and some three sips of Wine;
Then he'd abuse them for their sumptuous Feasts,
"My Friends! you make yourselves like
"Beasts;
"One Dish suffices any Man to dine,
"But you are greedy as a herd of Swine;
"Learn to be temperate.”—Had they dar'd t' obey,
He would have prais'd and turn'd them all away.
Friends met Sir Denys riding in his Ground,
And there the Meekness of his Spirit found:
For that grey Coat, not new for many a Year,
Hides all that would like decent Dress appear;
An old brown Poney 'twas his will to ride,
Who shuffled onward, and from side to side;
A five-pound purchase, but so fat and sleek,
His very Plenty made the Creature weak.
"Sir Denys Brand! and on so poor a Steed!"
'Poor! it may be—such things I never heed:’·
And who that Youth behind, of pleasant mien,
Equipp'd as one who wishes to be seen;
Upon a Horse, twice Victor for a Plate,
A noble Hunter, bought at dearest rate?—
Him the Lad fearing, yet resolv'd to guide,
He curbs his Spirit, while he strokes his Pride.
"A handsome Youth, Sir Denys; and a Horse "Of finer figure never trod the Course,"Yours, without question?"—" Yes! I think a Groom < Bought me the Beast; I cannot say the Sum:
"I ride him not, it is a foolish pride
'Men have in Cattle-but my People ride;
'The Boy is-hark ye, Sirrah! what's your Name? Aye, Jacob, yes! I recollect-the same;
'As I bethink me now, a Tenant's Son'I think a Tenant-is your Father one?' There was an idle Boy who ran about, And found his Master's humble Spirit out; He would at awful distance snatch a look, Then run away and hide him in some nook; "For oh!" quoth he, " I dare not fix my sight "On him, his Grandeur puts me in a fright; “Oh! Mister Jacob, when you wait on him, "Do you not quake and tremble every limb?" The Steward soon had Orders- Summers, see That Sam be cloth'd, and let him wait on me.'
Sir Denys died, bequeathing all Affairs
In trust to Laughton's long-experienc'd Cares;
Before a Guardian, and Sir Denys dead,
All Rule and Power devolv'd upon his Head:
Numbers are call'd to govern, but in fact
Only the powerful and assuming act.
Laughton, too wise to be a dupe to Fame,
Car'd not a whit of what Descent he came,
Till he was rich; he then conceiv'd the thought
To fish for Pedigree, but never caught:
All his Desire, when he was young and poor,
Was to advance; he never car'd for more;
"Let me buy, sell, be Factor, take a Wife,
"Take any Road to get along in Life."
Was he a Miser then? a Robber? Foe
To those who trusted? a Deceiver?-No!
|