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The next, with dirges due, in sad array,

Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne, Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay

Gravid on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.!


Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth

A Youth, 10 Fortune and to Fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,

And melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,

Heav'n did a recompence as largely send : He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear,

He gain'd from Heav'n, 'twas all he wish'd, a Friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose.)

The bosom of his father and his God,

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Evening Reflections


HAIL; sacred Fane! amidst whose stately shrines,

AIL, Her constant vigils Melancholy keeps ; (Whilst on her arm the grief-worn cheek roclinest

And o'er the spoils of human grandeur weeps.

Hail, ancient edifice! thine aisle along,

In contemplation wrapt, now let me stray ; And stealing from the idly-busy throng,

Devoutly meditate the moral lay.

What pleasing sadness fills my thoughtful breast

Whene'er my steps these gloomy mansions trace, Where, in their sumptuous tombs, in silence rest,

The honour'd ashes of the British race,

Here terminate ambition's airy schemes,

The syren pleasure here allures no more; Here grov'ling av'rice drops her golden dreams,

And life's fantastic trifles all are o'er,


No cares nor passions here the bosom rend,

Here wasting pain and earthly troubles cease! Here hopeless love and cruel hatred end,

And the world's weary tray'ler rests in peace.

Approach, vain child of fortune, pow'r, and fame!

Here learn a lesson from each speaking bust; View on each lufty tomb the envied name

Of worldly greatness, levelled in the dust.

How high each pers'nage once, how honour'd read;

How low, how little now, look down and see; Hence learn to know thyself; for 'tis decreed,

That thou as little and as low shalt be.

Full many' a hapless victim yet unborn,

O death all conq'ring! at thy feet must fall, Before the dawning of that glorious morn,

When thou shalt yield, and God be all in all,

Then from the silent grave and op'ning tomb

Sháll each reviving tenant-lift his heart.
And this time-honour'd abbey's crouded womb

Resign its treasures of illustrious dead.

E'en now, methinks, by faith's pervading eye

I see his banner in the clouds display'd, And the world's Saviour, from his throne on high,

Descend in purest robes of light array'd.

Creat day of gladness to the good and just,

When they shall taste the wonders of his love, And rising joyful from their beds of dust,

Ascend triumphant to the realms above.

Then shall the finish'd bust, the sculptur'd stone

And all the labour of the artist's hand, Dissolve; and virtue's solid base alone

Amidst the gen'ral wreck of matter stand.

Yca, should creation founder in the storm,

And whelming perish in this awful doom, Yet shall celestial virtue's angel form

Survive, and flourish in immortal bloom.

Then shall the good resolve, the gen'rous deed,

And noble conflict in religion's cause,
Fe well rewarded: ('tis by Heav'n decreed,)

And surely meet at judgment God's applause.

O be it then our wisdom to secure

Those glorious crowns that shine for ever bright: Crowns that adorn the faithful and the pure,

In the blest mansions of eternal light.



RIEND to the wretch whom every friend forsakes,
I woo thee, Death! In fancy's fairy paths
Let the gay songster rove, and gently trill
The strain of Life and its joys
I leave to those that prize them.

At this hour,
This solemn hour, when silence rules the world,
And wearied nature makes a gen'ral pause;
Wrapt in night's sable robe, through cloysters drear
And charnels pale, tenanted by a throng
Of meagre phantoms shooting cross my path
With silent glance, I seek the shadowy vale
Of Death. Deep in a murky cave's recess,
Lav'd by oblivion's listless stream, and fenc'd
By shelving rocks, and intermingled horrors
Of yew and cypress shade, from all intrusion
Of busy noontide beam, the Monarch sits
In unsubstantial majesty enthron'd.
At his right hand, nearest himself in place
And frightfulness of form, his parent Sin
With fatal industry and cruel care
Busies herself in pointing all his stings,
And tipping every shaft with venom drawn
From her infernal store: around him rang'd
In terrible array, and mixture strange

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