Poems, by Joseph Cottle Second edition, with additions |
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MONODY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN HENDERSON, A. B. OF PEMBROKE COLLEGE, OXFORD. |
 | Poems, by Joseph Cottle |  |
MONODY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN HENDERSON, A. B. OF PEMBROKE COLLEGE, OXFORD.
In life's gay prime, the Friend of Virtue died!
Fair was the flower, but Heaven the fruit deny'd.
As o'er thy tomb, my Henderson! I bend,
Shall I not praise thee, Scholar! Christian! Friend!
The tears which o'er a Brother's recent grave
Fond Nature sheds, those copious tears I gave:
But, now that Time its softening hues has brought,
And mellow'd anguish into pensive thought;
Since through the varying scenes of life I've pass'd,
Comparing still the former with the last;
I prize thee more! The Great, the Learn'd I see,
Yet Mem'ry turns from little men to THEE,
And views, with smiles that light her trembling tear,
Thy Genius destin'd for a nobler sphere.
Fair was the flower, but Heaven the fruit deny'd.
As o'er thy tomb, my Henderson! I bend,
Shall I not praise thee, Scholar! Christian! Friend!
The tears which o'er a Brother's recent grave
Fond Nature sheds, those copious tears I gave:
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And mellow'd anguish into pensive thought;
Since through the varying scenes of life I've pass'd,
Comparing still the former with the last;
I prize thee more! The Great, the Learn'd I see,
Yet Mem'ry turns from little men to THEE,
And views, with smiles that light her trembling tear,
Thy Genius destin'd for a nobler sphere.
Silent too long this sorrowing heart hath been;
Thy worth too long unhonor'd have I seen;
And mark'd thy Fame, which, like the morning sky,
Beam'd with full glory whilst the storm was nigh,
Now with thy Newton's sleep (dear, valued mind,
Who, dying, left no purer heart behind.)
Thy worth too long unhonor'd have I seen;
And mark'd thy Fame, which, like the morning sky,
Beam'd with full glory whilst the storm was nigh,
Now with thy Newton's sleep (dear, valued mind,
Who, dying, left no purer heart behind.)
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If human spirits then begin to live
When they mortality's frail robe receive;
And, born to endless being, urge their way,
Progressive travellers through the eternal day;
Dart wide the glance; yet, dart on God alone;
Approaching still his ever-distant throne;
If, e'en the unletter'd Peasant, in that flight
Shall soar beyond a Newton's earthly height,
To what shall he attain, whose infant scan
Pierc'd through the frames of nature and of man?
When they mortality's frail robe receive;
And, born to endless being, urge their way,
Progressive travellers through the eternal day;
Dart wide the glance; yet, dart on God alone;
Approaching still his ever-distant throne;
If, e'en the unletter'd Peasant, in that flight
Shall soar beyond a Newton's earthly height,
To what shall he attain, whose infant scan
Pierc'd through the frames of nature and of man?
'Twas his the times of elder fame to view,
And all that Greece or Rome e'er wrote or knew;
Now on bold pinion float mid Plato's blaze,
Now patient tread the Schoolman's thorny maze.
In thrice ten years his soul had run the round
Of human knowledge in her depths profound;
Alike could mete the earth or dart his eye
To where, with suns, the Zodiac belts the sky,
Through æther rove on Wisdom's mounting car,
And join the course of each revolving star.
Yet could he shape the log or prune the tree,
Or stoop to roll the marble on his knee.
Ev'n as the Lark, by loftier flights opprest,
That seeks at eve her calm and lowly nest;
Who yet when sleep no longer seals the eye,
And light returning streaks the orient sky,
Uprising, calls the opening morn her own,
And revels in the tide of new-born day alone.
And all that Greece or Rome e'er wrote or knew;
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Now patient tread the Schoolman's thorny maze.
In thrice ten years his soul had run the round
Of human knowledge in her depths profound;
Alike could mete the earth or dart his eye
To where, with suns, the Zodiac belts the sky,
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And join the course of each revolving star.
Yet could he shape the log or prune the tree,
Or stoop to roll the marble on his knee.
Ev'n as the Lark, by loftier flights opprest,
That seeks at eve her calm and lowly nest;
Who yet when sleep no longer seals the eye,
And light returning streaks the orient sky,
Uprising, calls the opening morn her own,
And revels in the tide of new-born day alone.
Not souls from him lay ambush'd, he could trace
The mute, unlying, language of the face;
In manhood's varying features, knew to read
The ruling passion stamp'd, the habitual deed;
And, through the acorn's fibrils, saw the hour
When the tall Oak defy'd the tempest's power.
The mute, unlying, language of the face;
In manhood's varying features, knew to read
The ruling passion stamp'd, the habitual deed;
And, through the acorn's fibrils, saw the hour
When the tall Oak defy'd the tempest's power.
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Though like an eagle he could stand sublime
On summits which no toil might hope to climb;
And though, whene'er he spake, the pausing sage
Wonder'd, and lov'd the idol of his age;
Yet did kind Heav'n one worthier gift impart,
The priceless treasure of a lowly heart!
O hear thou proud one! thou, whose soul assumes
Or Wisdom's robe, or Wit's fantastic plumes,
Though Learning's Alpine height before him shone,
He on the footstool rear'd a nobler throne:
E'en children doated on his accent mild,
And sported careless round their fellow child.
On summits which no toil might hope to climb;
And though, whene'er he spake, the pausing sage
Wonder'd, and lov'd the idol of his age;
Yet did kind Heav'n one worthier gift impart,
The priceless treasure of a lowly heart!
O hear thou proud one! thou, whose soul assumes
Or Wisdom's robe, or Wit's fantastic plumes,
Though Learning's Alpine height before him shone,
He on the footstool rear'd a nobler throne:
E'en children doated on his accent mild,
And sported careless round their fellow child.
Ye sons of calumny! go, hide your head!
Away, ye Vampires! that devour the dead!
Who fain would force the long-clos'd wound to bleed,
And hunt through Paradise to find a weed.
When droopt his frame beneath its restless lord,
And cut its sheath the keenly-temper'd sword;
What, if an artificial aid he sought,
Worn out with prodigality of thought!
What if, his frail car driven with heedless force,
He fired the wheels in his too rapid course!
'Tis true, the midnight bowl he lov'd to share,
Yet never cloud it rais'd, or maniac glare;
But, only made, with stimulation kind,
The body wakeful to the unsleeping mind;
But only (till unmechaniz'd by death)
Kept the pipe vocal to the player's breath.
With wonted thought, with loftier eloquence,
Truth's sacred precepts would he then dispense:
So fair the effect that Virtue made a pause,
And only, not forgave the faulty cause.
Away, ye Vampires! that devour the dead!
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And hunt through Paradise to find a weed.
When droopt his frame beneath its restless lord,
And cut its sheath the keenly-temper'd sword;
What, if an artificial aid he sought,
Worn out with prodigality of thought!
What if, his frail car driven with heedless force,
He fired the wheels in his too rapid course!
'Tis true, the midnight bowl he lov'd to share,
Yet never cloud it rais'd, or maniac glare;
But, only made, with stimulation kind,
The body wakeful to the unsleeping mind;
But only (till unmechaniz'd by death)
Kept the pipe vocal to the player's breath.
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Truth's sacred precepts would he then dispense:
So fair the effect that Virtue made a pause,
And only, not forgave the faulty cause.
Guarded with pious joy, and vestal care,
Those sacred hours let bleeding memory bear,
When o'er his couch, with tears, I nightly hung,
And drank the words of wisdom from his tongue.
The simplest truths, that else had quickly fled,
Strike with deep meaning from a sick friend's bed:
How richly then his precepts must I prize,
Lov'd by the good and echo'd by the wise.
Those sacred hours let bleeding memory bear,
When o'er his couch, with tears, I nightly hung,
And drank the words of wisdom from his tongue.
The simplest truths, that else had quickly fled,
Strike with deep meaning from a sick friend's bed:
How richly then his precepts must I prize,
Lov'd by the good and echo'd by the wise.
But, where is all the sense that once was thine?
The grace that charm'd us? and the wit divine?
Where are those lips that play'd so well their part?
And where that eye which analiz'd the heart?
Now are they known no more!—the shivering frame
Ponders on death, and sighs o'er human fame.
The flower may please the eye and scent the air,
Whilst in its folds the Canker-worm is there;
For, like the flower, at morn we raise our head,
And, ere the day be past, our life is fled.
Yet, when, for virtues famed, the reasoning sage,
Vanquish'd by death, forsakes this mortal stage,
His parting hopes or fears imperious rise,
And, as we lov'd the man, his words we prize.
Oh, hither come, all ye! whose smoaky lamps
Burn dim and foul mid doubts unwholesome damps,
Who pine in vain for intellectual food,
And o'er the void of cold conjecture brood;
Oh hither come, all ye! who dare deride
That Faith, which blooms alone by Virtue's side,
Who spurn the truths which wiser minds receive,
And just have wit enough to disbelieve:
Oh hither come! from me, the mourner, hear
What tranquil smiles a Christian's lips can wear,
When some kind Angel sooths the labouring breath,
And lifts the emancipating wand of death.
The grace that charm'd us? and the wit divine?
Where are those lips that play'd so well their part?
And where that eye which analiz'd the heart?
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Ponders on death, and sighs o'er human fame.
The flower may please the eye and scent the air,
Whilst in its folds the Canker-worm is there;
For, like the flower, at morn we raise our head,
And, ere the day be past, our life is fled.
Yet, when, for virtues famed, the reasoning sage,
Vanquish'd by death, forsakes this mortal stage,
His parting hopes or fears imperious rise,
And, as we lov'd the man, his words we prize.
Oh, hither come, all ye! whose smoaky lamps
Burn dim and foul mid doubts unwholesome damps,
Who pine in vain for intellectual food,
And o'er the void of cold conjecture brood;
Oh hither come, all ye! who dare deride
That Faith, which blooms alone by Virtue's side,
Who spurn the truths which wiser minds receive,
And just have wit enough to disbelieve:
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What tranquil smiles a Christian's lips can wear,
When some kind Angel sooths the labouring breath,
And lifts the emancipating wand of death.
Then only not the friend of all mankind,
When to thyself a foe—farewell, great mind!
We wander tearful through this vale below,
But thou art there, where tears forget to flow;
Where Love and Joy eternal vigils hold,
And scatter healing as their wings unfold;
Where souls their radiant course for ever run,
Like Planets circling the Almighty Sun.
When to thyself a foe—farewell, great mind!
We wander tearful through this vale below,
But thou art there, where tears forget to flow;
Where Love and Joy eternal vigils hold,
And scatter healing as their wings unfold;
Where souls their radiant course for ever run,
Like Planets circling the Almighty Sun.
If friendship be a flower, whose am'ranth bloom
Endures that heavenly clime; beyond the tomb,
I, haply I, thy honor'd form may see;
And thou, perchance, with joy remember me;
Hail my escape from grief's distemper'd train,
And be my loved Instructor once again.
Teach me what snares my mortal steps assail'd,
And by what secret impulse I prevail'd:
Dispel the mists upborn by Error's rays,
Unfold the doors of Wisdom to my gaze;
Instruct mine eye, to grasp with nobler sense,
The dark, mysterious rounds of Providence.
Endures that heavenly clime; beyond the tomb,
I, haply I, thy honor'd form may see;
And thou, perchance, with joy remember me;
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And be my loved Instructor once again.
Teach me what snares my mortal steps assail'd,
And by what secret impulse I prevail'd:
Dispel the mists upborn by Error's rays,
Unfold the doors of Wisdom to my gaze;
Instruct mine eye, to grasp with nobler sense,
The dark, mysterious rounds of Providence.
And whilst with trembling awe, and sacred dread,
Before the Omniscient's throne, my palm I spread.
Aid thou my tongue to thank that Lamb above,
Whose words were blessings and whose life was love.
Before the Omniscient's throne, my palm I spread.
Aid thou my tongue to thank that Lamb above,
Whose words were blessings and whose life was love.
The Reverend James Newton was a particular friend of John Henderson, and forms one, of many instances, where superior learning and exalted virtues sink down to the grave, unknown by the world, and wept only by that confined circle who knew how to appreciate excellence; but, whose praise, with its object, is soon carried away by “the onward-rolling waves of Time.”
Some Gentlemen of Pembroke College, Oxford (amongst whom was the Tutor) willing to be satisfied of the reputation which John Henderson had acquired for his knowledge of the Schoolmen, made themselves acquainted with the arguments of Thomas a'Quinas on a particular point; and then applied to Henderson for the opinions of that author on the same. Without any hesitation he gave them Thomas a'Quinas's sentiments upon the subject, in a long train of deductions and arguments. But, what rendered the circumstance most remarkable was, the strength of memory which he discovered, as he delivered himself almost verbatim in the language of the Author he cited.
This anecdote was received from Dr. Thomas Beddoes, who was at that time a Member of Pembroke College, and a Professor in the same University.
| Poems, by Joseph Cottle | |