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THE TRIBUTE:
WRITTEN MARCH TWENTY-FIFTH, 1804, AT THE TOMB OF LADY CALDWELL, Who was buried at Weston, near Bath, March 18th, 1796.
Partner of Him, who, from my early youth,
My soul had mark'd for Honour and for Truth;
Whose generous Sorrows, and whose tender Sighs,
Heav'd from a Heart where still thy Image lies;
Who, as he views thee in thy Daughters fair,
Still feels a Husband's love, a Father's care;
And, while more strongly swell'd the tide of grief,
Brought on the wish'd-for show'r of kind relief;
And 'midst the storm they caus'd, more fondly press'd
Thy beauteous Pledges to his aching breast;
Saw all their Mother in their forms survive,
And scarce, alas! could think them not alive.
My soul had mark'd for Honour and for Truth;
Whose generous Sorrows, and whose tender Sighs,
Heav'd from a Heart where still thy Image lies;
Who, as he views thee in thy Daughters fair,
Still feels a Husband's love, a Father's care;
And, while more strongly swell'd the tide of grief,
Brought on the wish'd-for show'r of kind relief;
And 'midst the storm they caus'd, more fondly press'd
Thy beauteous Pledges to his aching breast;
Saw all their Mother in their forms survive,
And scarce, alas! could think them not alive.
True to thy Worth, tho' eight sad years have pass'd
Since near this sacred spot he look'd his last;
And many a dire event and distant scene,
With all that Chance or Change could intervene;
His faithful Spirit to thy Tomb has flown,
And mark'd thy sacred Ashes for his own.
His faithful Spirit leaps the space between,
And summons thine to Caldwell's once-lov'd scene.
There Fancy sees thee still amidst thy flow'rs,
Along thy walks, or in thy fav'rite bowers;
And tho' beneath this stone thy relics lie,
Fresh—as when summon'd to th'expecting sky,
Thy graceful Manners, Form, and beauteous Mind,
Still seem to bless the Spot thou hast resign'd.
Since near this sacred spot he look'd his last;
And many a dire event and distant scene,
With all that Chance or Change could intervene;
His faithful Spirit to thy Tomb has flown,
And mark'd thy sacred Ashes for his own.
His faithful Spirit leaps the space between,
And summons thine to Caldwell's once-lov'd scene.
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Along thy walks, or in thy fav'rite bowers;
And tho' beneath this stone thy relics lie,
Fresh—as when summon'd to th'expecting sky,
Thy graceful Manners, Form, and beauteous Mind,
Still seem to bless the Spot thou hast resign'd.
Take, then, dear Shade, while awful thus I bend,
O take the Tribute of thy Husband's Friend;
A Friend who knows his love, devoid of art,
The richest offspring of the noblest Heart !
O take the Tribute of thy Husband's Friend;
A Friend who knows his love, devoid of art,
The richest offspring of the noblest Heart !
Castle Caldwell, the beautiful seat of the family, near Ballyshannon in Ireland: a scene of the highest picturesque beauty.
The following is the Inscription to the Memory of this estimable Lady:
“In Memory of LADY CALDWELL, Daughter of Godfrey Meynel, of Bradley, in the County of Derby, Esq.
Wife of Sir John Caldwell, of Castle Caldwell, Bart.
In the Kingdom of Ireland.
Obiit Anno Ætatis suæ 39, Mar. 18, 1795.
To the Best of Wives, to the Best of Parents,To a Beloved and Fond Companion,
To the Sweetest and Dearest of Friends;
To such an Exalted Character,
Which in dignifying her Sex honoured Human Nature;
Whose Excellence must live as long as
Virtue and Goodness shall be respected among Men,
This unadorned Stone is placed here;
As the humble Record, and affectionate Tribute,
Of an Affectionate and Disconsolate
Husband.”
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