Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Tu semper urges flebilibus modis
Sponsam ademptam: nec tibi vespero
Surgente decedunt Amores,
Nec rapidum fugiente Solem.
------ Desine mollium
Tandem Querelarum ------
Omnes eôdem cogimur ------
Hor.

Is Offly widow'd? Mourns the Muses' Friend?
And shall no sympathizing Poet send
The Tribute of Condolence? May not I,
With pious Sorrow, and a weeping Eye,

285

Amidst Prosaic Crowds of Mourners press,
To shew my Sense of Offly's great Distress?
In such a Cause, officious let me be:
Forbid me not to grieve—for 'tis with Thee.

Yet, not to increase thy Suff'ring, and thy Woe,
My artless Elegiac Numbers flow.
—That were to turn my Piety to Sin,
And, like Job's Friends, th' Afflicted's Censure win.
Nor wou'd I bid Thee give thy Sorrows o'er,
And cease to mind so lov'd a Consort more.
—Not to lament the Loss of one, so good,
So young, so fair, were barbarous and rude.
The Best of Friends, and Mothers too! the Thought
Makes Virtue stagger, and ev'n Reason nought.

286

Nature, in spite of Philosophic Rules,
Unmans the Brave, and proves the wisest Fools.
All, undistinguish'd, in Distress, complain:
Humanity wou'd seem untouch'd, in vain.
Who, that are wretched, can, unconscious, live?
And take the Counsel they, untroubled, give?
Sorrow, like Love, for Reason waxes strong,
And tyrannizes, where it reigns too long.

Offly, thy Loss demands a nat'ral Grief;
But bars Thee not from Comfort and Relief.
Immod'rate Sorrow may thy Life consume:
But not revoke inexorable Doom,
Nor bring thy destin'd Charmer from the Tomb.
And, sure, if Souls departed know what's done
By Kindred Mortals, Offly's ev'ry Groan

287

And Tear must break, unwelcome, on her Rest,
And rob her of the Heav'n she's now possest.
Let Those, whose Love and Faith were doubted, gain
Belief, by Shews of Sorrow, which they feign,
You, whose whole Life, in ev'ry Act, is crown'd,
Are not to superstitious Custom bound.
Rather, a Widower now, of Wisdom prove
The Pattern; as, a Husband late, of Love.
Indulgent Heav'n has bless'd your Marriage Bed,
Nor, with your Consort, is your Comfort fled.
Behold the Pledges of your mutual Joys!
Delighted, trace their Mother in her Boys:
With wise Submission, wait the Sov'reign Will,
Improve good Fortune, and endure your ill.

And, Thou, lamented, sacred, Dust, remain
Untroubled, till thy Beauties spring again:

288

Soft be thy Sleep, till the last Morn appears—
And, ye, her lov'd Relations, dry your Tears,
And make that Use of her mourn'd Funeral,
As of a Crystal, broken by a Fall,
Whose several Pieces, gather'd up, and set,
May lesser Mirrors for her Sex beget.
There let Them view Themselves, until they see
What End of all their Glories soon will be,
And wish they had such Qualities, as she.

Time flies apace, and Life is full of Woes,
A Torch puft out by ev'ry Wind that blows!
Matter for Sighs we find with our first Breath,
And but draw Air to render back to Death.
The Lucky may enjoy short-liv'd Delight:
But Grief is Man's Hereditary Right.

289

Hence the old Thracian Sages us'd to mourn
When Children were, with Cries and Torment, born;
But, at their Death, believ'd them truly blest,
Because the Fates had laid them then to rest.

Offly, ere long we, too, must Trophies fall
To that victorious Conqueror of All!
But shall we say the Victor's not our Friend,
That, with our Lives, put Sorrows to an End?
Trust me, the Spring that trickles from our Eyes
Is natural—but, as we die, it dries.
One friendly Stroke will wipe away our Tears,
And prove that all our Mis'ry flows from Fears.

Job complains of his Friends in these Words, “Ye are miserable Comforters unto me, and Physicians of no Value.”