The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton

with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell

Chatterton, Thomas (1752-1770)

Vol. I.

I. Poems written before 1769.

II.

II. Poems written in 1769.

III.

III. Poems written in 1770.

IV.

IV. Miscellaneous Poems, &c.

II.

VOL. II.

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244

AN ELEGY, On the Much Lamented Death of William Beckford, Esq.,

Late Lord-Mayor of, and Representative in Parliament for, the City of London. [Died June 21, 1770.]

I

Weep on, ye Britons—give your gen'ral Tear;
But hence, ye Venal—Hence, each titled Slave;
An honest pang should wait on Beckford's Bier,
And patriot Anguish mark the Patriot's Grave.

II

When, like the Roman, to his Field retir'd,
'Twas you, (surrounded by unnumber'd Foes)
Who call'd him forth, his Services requir'd,
And took from Age the Blessing of Repose.

245

III

With Soul impell'd by Virtue's sacred Flame,
To stem the Torrent of corruption's Tide,
He came, heav'n-fraught with Liberty! he came,
And nobly in his Country's Service died.

IV

In the last awful, the departing Hour,
When Life's poor Lamp more faint, and fainter grew;
As Mem'ry feebly exercis'd her Pow'r,
He only felt for Liberty and you.

V

He view'd Death's Arrow with a Christian Eye,
With Firmness only to a Christian known;
And nobly gave your Miseries that Sigh
With which he never gratified his own.

VI

Thou breathing Sculpture, celebrate his Fame,
And give his Laurel everlasting Bloom;
Record his Worth while Gratitude has Name,
And teach succeeding Ages from his Tomb.

246

VII

The Sword of Justice cautiously he sway'd,
His Hand for ever held the Balance right;
Each venial Fault with Pity he survey'd,
But murder found no Mercy in his Sight.

VIII

He knew, when Flatterers besiege a Throne,
Truth seldom reaches to a Monarch's Ear;
Knew, if oppress'd a loyal People groan,
'Tis not the Courtier's Int'rest He should hear.

IX

Hence, honest to his Prince, his manly Tongue
The Public Wrong and Loyalty convey'd,
While Titled Tremblers, ev'ry Nerve unstrung,
Look'd all around, confounded and dismay'd;

X

Look'd all around, astonish'd to behold
(Train'd up to Flatt'ry from their early Youth)
An artless, fearless Citizen unfold
To Royal Ears a mortifying Truth.

XI

Titles to him no Pleasure could impart,
No Bribes his rigid Virtue could controul;
The Star could never gain upon his Heart,
Nor turn the Tide of Honor in his Soul.

XII

For this his Name our Hist'ry shall adorn,
Shall soar on Fame's wide Pinions, all sublime,
'Till Heaven's own bright and never-dying Morn
Absorbs our little Particle of Time.

247

XIII

Far other Fate the venal Crew shall find,
Who sigh for Pomp, or languish after Strings;
And sell their native Probity of Mind,
For Bribes from Statesmen, or for Smiles from Kings.

XIV

And here a long inglorious List of Names
On my disturb'd Imagination croud;
“O! let them perish (loud the Muse exclaims)
Consign'd for ever to Oblivion's Cloud.

XV

“White be the Page that celebrates his Fame,
“Nor let one Mark of Infamy appear;
“Let not the Villain's mingle with his Name,
“Lest Indignation stop the swelling Tear.

XVI

“The swelling Tear should plenteously descend,
“The delug'd Eye should give the Heart Relief;
“Humanity should melt for Nature's Friend,
“In all the richest Luxury of Grief.”

XVII

He, as a Planet with unceasing Ray,
Is seen in one unvaried Course to move,
Through Life pursued but one illustrious Way,
And all his Orbit was his Country's Love.

XVIII

But he is gone!—And now, alas! no more
His generous Hand neglected Worth redeems;
No more around his Mansion shall the Poor
Bask in his warm, his charitable Beams.

248

XIX

No more his grateful Countrymen shall hear
His manly Voice, in martyr'd Freedom's Cause;
No more the courtly Sycophant shall fear
His poignant Lash for violated Laws.

XX

Yet say, Stern Virtue, who'd not wish to die,
Thus greatly struggling, a whole Land to save?
Who would not wish, with Ardor wish to lie,
With Beckford's Honor, in a Beckford's Grave?

XXI

Not Honor, such as Princes can bestow,
Whose breath a Reptile to a Lord can raise;
But far the brightest Honor here below,
A grateful Nation's unabating Praise.

XXII

But see! where Liberty, on yonder Strand,
Where the Cliff rises, and the Billows roar,
Already takes her melancholy Stand,
To wing her Passage to some happier Shore.

XXIII

Stay, Goddess! stay, nor leave this once-bless'd Isle,
So many Ages thy peculiar Care,
O! stay, and cheer us ever with thy Smile,
Lest quick we sink in terrible Despair.

XXIV

And lo! she listens to the Muse's Call;
She comes, once more, to cheer a wretched Land;
Thou, Tyranny, shall tremble to thy Fall!
To hear her high, her absolute Command:—

249

XXV

“Let not, my Sons, the Laws your Fathers bought,
“With such rich Oceans of undaunted Blood,
“By Traitors, thus be basely set at Nought,
“While at your Hearts you feel the purple Flood.

XXVI

“Unite in firm, in honorable Bands;
“Break ev'ry Link of Slav'ry's hateful Chain:
“Nor let your Children, at their Fathers' Hands,
“Demand their Birthright, and demand in vain.

XXVII

“Where e'er the Murd'rers of their Country hide,
“Whatever Dignities their Names adorn;
“It is your Duty—let it be your Pride,
“To drag them forth to universal Scorn.

XXVIII

“So shall your lov'd, your venerated Name,
“O'er Earth's vast Convex gloriously expand;
“So shall your still accumulating Fame
“In one bright Story with your Beckford stand.”