Poems on Several Occasions By Thomas Gilbert |
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On the Death of the Right Honourable Lord Castlecomer in 1736. |
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
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On the Death of the Right Honourable Lord Castlecomer in 1736.
Farewel thou blooming hope of Albion's isle,
Whose converse could the cares of life beguile!
Enrich'd with lively wit, with arts adorn'd,
In the first scene of youth, admir'd and mourn'd;
Whom Heaven repenting thought a gift too great,
And early snatch'd thee to a better state;
Where souls like thine, of an exalted kind,
From every mean and vulgar thought refin'd,
Dwell in pure regions of immortal joy,
Where nothing can the high-wrought bliss destroy;
Where injur'd innocence kind angels guard,
And slighted virtue meets a sure reward.
Whose converse could the cares of life beguile!
Enrich'd with lively wit, with arts adorn'd,
In the first scene of youth, admir'd and mourn'd;
Whom Heaven repenting thought a gift too great,
And early snatch'd thee to a better state;
Where souls like thine, of an exalted kind,
From every mean and vulgar thought refin'd,
Dwell in pure regions of immortal joy,
Where nothing can the high-wrought bliss destroy;
Where injur'd innocence kind angels guard,
And slighted virtue meets a sure reward.
92
Lamented youth! What tears of sorrow flow?
How every pensive bosom heaves with woe?
While all whose breasts the tuneful nine inspire,
Tho' dumb with grief, yet touch the moving lyre;
In melancholy numbers void of art,
Speak the sad language of an aching heart.
How every pensive bosom heaves with woe?
While all whose breasts the tuneful nine inspire,
Tho' dumb with grief, yet touch the moving lyre;
In melancholy numbers void of art,
Speak the sad language of an aching heart.
Since the frail sisters cut thy slender thread,
And you are rank'd among th' illustrious dead;
Now every coxcomb's fond ambition ends,
Whom vanity, or fortune, made your friends;
When the mean tribe of slaves no longer wait
To croud like parasites your palace-gate;
The sacred muse, to friendship ever dear,
O'er thy cold ashes sheds a grateful tear:
'Tis her's to pay the last sad tribute due
To celebrated worth in friends like you;
In humble strains to make their merit known,
Or mark their virtues on the sculptur'd stone.
And you are rank'd among th' illustrious dead;
Now every coxcomb's fond ambition ends,
Whom vanity, or fortune, made your friends;
When the mean tribe of slaves no longer wait
To croud like parasites your palace-gate;
The sacred muse, to friendship ever dear,
O'er thy cold ashes sheds a grateful tear:
93
To celebrated worth in friends like you;
In humble strains to make their merit known,
Or mark their virtues on the sculptur'd stone.
Wandsford farewel! in whom kind nature join'd
Whatever could instruct, or charm the mind;
With learning candour, modesty with truth,
The sage's wisdom with the fire of youth;
Whose affability and winning air
Could entertain a friend, or please the fair;
Who made stern honour all his actions guide;
Tho' nobly born, without one spark of pride;
Whose glory on its own foundation stood,
And claim'd no merit from descent of blood.
When the gay scene of fleeting life is oe'r,
And the world's vanities delight no more,
The parting soul reflecting on thy death
Shall yield with greater joy her latest breath;
Without one struggle bid the world adieu,
And wing her flight to happiness and you.
Whatever could instruct, or charm the mind;
With learning candour, modesty with truth,
The sage's wisdom with the fire of youth;
Whose affability and winning air
Could entertain a friend, or please the fair;
Who made stern honour all his actions guide;
Tho' nobly born, without one spark of pride;
Whose glory on its own foundation stood,
And claim'd no merit from descent of blood.
94
And the world's vanities delight no more,
The parting soul reflecting on thy death
Shall yield with greater joy her latest breath;
Without one struggle bid the world adieu,
And wing her flight to happiness and you.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |