The Poetical Works of the Ingenious and Learned William Meston ... The Sixth edition |
 |
 |
| 1. |
| 2. |
On the lamented Death of the Earl of STRATHMORE.
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of the Ingenious and Learned William Meston |  |
On the lamented Death of the Earl of STRATHMORE.
With gen'ral sadness Albion mourns
Her Lord Strathmore's untimely fate;
Grief and resentment swell by turns,
While we the tragick tale relate.
Her Lord Strathmore's untimely fate;
Grief and resentment swell by turns,
While we the tragick tale relate.
All join to weep his vanish'd charms;
Ev'n in his foes regret appears;
Departed virtue rage disarms,
And softens envy into tears.
Ev'n in his foes regret appears;
Departed virtue rage disarms,
And softens envy into tears.
The Muse her tribute, too, shall pay,
And mourn the loss in melting verse,
The Glories of his life display,
And with encomiums gild his hearse.
And mourn the loss in melting verse,
The Glories of his life display,
And with encomiums gild his hearse.
Bold is th'attempt, the subject high,
But such a theme my thoughts will raise;
If my low genius should deny,
His actions will suggest their praise.
But such a theme my thoughts will raise;
If my low genius should deny,
His actions will suggest their praise.
159
To please was natural in him;
All felt the charm at the first view:
Insensibly he gain'd esteem,
And then convinc'd them 'twas his due.
All felt the charm at the first view:
Insensibly he gain'd esteem,
And then convinc'd them 'twas his due.
Such sweetness did his mind adorn,
Such wisdom guide his lovely wit,
As shew'd the youth for virtue born,
With so much ease he practis'd it.
Such wisdom guide his lovely wit,
As shew'd the youth for virtue born,
With so much ease he practis'd it.
Form'd in his temper for delight,
How calm he was in private life!
When call'd t'assert his Prince's right,
How forward in the glorious strife!
How calm he was in private life!
When call'd t'assert his Prince's right,
How forward in the glorious strife!
'Twas then, amongst the wond'ring throng,
The youth appear'd with double charms,
And drew the praise of every tongue,
First both in arts of peace and arms.
The youth appear'd with double charms,
And drew the praise of every tongue,
First both in arts of peace and arms.
Muse, strike again the tuneful lyre,
And sing the hero's first essay;
If noble deeds can verse inspire,
It should be sung no vulgar way.
And sing the hero's first essay;
If noble deeds can verse inspire,
It should be sung no vulgar way.
Methinks I see him now appear,
As he embark'd to find the foe,
And his great soul, unmov'd wirh fear,
To unexperienc'd danger go.
As he embark'd to find the foe,
And his great soul, unmov'd wirh fear,
To unexperienc'd danger go.
But adverse winds forbid his way,
The hostile ships opposing threat;
Heaven all his virtues would display,
And now imposes a retreat.
The hostile ships opposing threat;
Heaven all his virtues would display,
And now imposes a retreat.
The wond'ring muse his steps attends,
And sees on Maia's rocky shore,
With adverse fate how he contends,
Superior to the ills he bore.
And sees on Maia's rocky shore,
With adverse fate how he contends,
Superior to the ills he bore.
160
Mortals, while Heav'n permits it you,
The bright example imitate;
Alas! 'tis just exposed to view,
And soon to be withdrawn by fate.
The bright example imitate;
Alas! 'tis just exposed to view,
And soon to be withdrawn by fate.
The early beauties of his soul,
Shown in the dawn of life so bright:
The op'ning wonders we extol,
Are veil'd with an eternal night.
Shown in the dawn of life so bright:
The op'ning wonders we extol,
Are veil'd with an eternal night.
Altho', relentless in her doom,
Hard destiny abridg'd his years,
Immortal honours grace his tomb,
And all the hero now appears.
Hard destiny abridg'd his years,
Immortal honours grace his tomb,
And all the hero now appears.
So distant India's odorous gums,
Or incense, when dissolv'd by fire,
Disclose their hidden rich perfumes,
And in the balmy scent expire.
Or incense, when dissolv'd by fire,
Disclose their hidden rich perfumes,
And in the balmy scent expire.
Altho' consum'd, they vanish hence,
The transient blaze not vainly shone;
Remaining sweets delight our sense,
And we admire them most when gone.
The transient blaze not vainly shone;
Remaining sweets delight our sense,
And we admire them most when gone.
Could I describe him on the plain,
As he in scenes of horror stood,
Encount'ring death with looks serene,
While danger fir'd his gen'rous blood;
As he in scenes of horror stood,
Encount'ring death with looks serene,
While danger fir'd his gen'rous blood;
The image, view'd by wond'ring eyes,
Such thirst for glory would create,
That men the longest life should prize
Less than the honours of his fate.
Such thirst for glory would create,
That men the longest life should prize
Less than the honours of his fate.
For his lov'd Prince and country's cause
He scorns to quit the bloody field;
But many flee whom danger awes,
And he, o'erpower'd, is forc'd to yield.
He scorns to quit the bloody field;
But many flee whom danger awes,
And he, o'erpower'd, is forc'd to yield.
161
But ah! what Scythian could approve
Of foes so cruel and unfair,
Whom neither youth nor charms could move,
Surrounded and unmov'd, to spare?
Of foes so cruel and unfair,
Whom neither youth nor charms could move,
Surrounded and unmov'd, to spare?
Vain are complaints; Heav'n that rules all,
In vengeance to the guilty land,
Had now decreed that he should fall,
And fall by an inglorious hand.
In vengeance to the guilty land,
Had now decreed that he should fall,
And fall by an inglorious hand.
As when some fair delightful flower,
That grew the pride of all the mead,
Cut by the undiscerning mower.
A languid paleness does invade;
That grew the pride of all the mead,
Cut by the undiscerning mower.
A languid paleness does invade;
The lovely youth thus fainting lyes
On the cold ground, and pants for breath,
Extinguish'd now his radiant eyes,
And every charm deform'd by death.
On the cold ground, and pants for breath,
Extinguish'd now his radiant eyes,
And every charm deform'd by death.
O! Fate, that no distinction knows;
O! cruel chance of direful war,
And Heav'n deaf to so many vows,
Repeated for a life so dear.
O! cruel chance of direful war,
And Heav'n deaf to so many vows,
Repeated for a life so dear.
But tho', upon the fatal plain,
His body pale and lifeless lie,
Th'etherial part does still remain,
And seeks, unstain'd, its native sky.
His body pale and lifeless lie,
Th'etherial part does still remain,
And seeks, unstain'd, its native sky.
There, when his soul, releas'd from cares,
Had tasted of celestial bliss,
How dim our brightest day appears?
How vain all human happiness?
Had tasted of celestial bliss,
How dim our brightest day appears?
How vain all human happiness?
To accidents superior now,
He sees his corps, which dust defiles,
Insulted by the spiteful crew,
And at th'unpowerful malice smiles.
He sees his corps, which dust defiles,
Insulted by the spiteful crew,
And at th'unpowerful malice smiles.
162
But whither, with attempt so vain,
Would the rash muse advance her flight?
Can any mortal eye sustain
The splendour of immortal light?
Would the rash muse advance her flight?
Can any mortal eye sustain
The splendour of immortal light?
That dazzling prospect, prudent, leave,
To earth again descending come,
Content, if thou can'st garlands weave
Of laurels to adorn his tomb.
To earth again descending come,
Content, if thou can'st garlands weave
Of laurels to adorn his tomb.
Albion, who once of such a son
Could'st so deserv'dly make thy boast,
Consider, now that he is gone,
What to his memory thou ow'st.
Could'st so deserv'dly make thy boast,
Consider, now that he is gone,
What to his memory thou ow'st.
Thy gratitude his actions claim,
His fate does thy compassion crave,
Still must Strathmore remain a name
Dear to the loyal and the brave.
His fate does thy compassion crave,
Still must Strathmore remain a name
Dear to the loyal and the brave.
Let an eternal spring surround
And shade with sweets his sacred urn;
Let fame his actions all resound,
And distant times the hero mourn.
And shade with sweets his sacred urn;
Let fame his actions all resound,
And distant times the hero mourn.
Let every muse conspire to praise,
(For virtue is the muses care);
Let every nymph attend their lays,
And pay the tribute of a tear.
(For virtue is the muses care);
Let every nymph attend their lays,
And pay the tribute of a tear.
You who his worth, while living, knew,
Conspicuous now above the rest,
To friendship pay the honour due,
And wear his image in your breast.
Conspicuous now above the rest,
To friendship pay the honour due,
And wear his image in your breast.
And you who shall his virtues rare,
Inroll'd in Britain's annals find,
Read the distinguish'd page with care,
And deep imprint it on your mind.
Inroll'd in Britain's annals find,
Read the distinguish'd page with care,
And deep imprint it on your mind.
163
If corrupt times your courage try,
When honesty is judg'd offence,
Keep his example in your eye,
And learn the worth of innocence.
When honesty is judg'd offence,
Keep his example in your eye,
And learn the worth of innocence.
In him the force of virtue see,
Altho' successless, sure of fame;
For future ages will agree
To mourn his fate and bless his name.
Altho' successless, sure of fame;
For future ages will agree
To mourn his fate and bless his name.
Nor thou, lamented shade, refuse
The honours paid in humble verse,
The labours of an artless muse,
That can they praises but rehearse.
The honours paid in humble verse,
The labours of an artless muse,
That can they praises but rehearse.
Were as the friend's the poets flame,
How should the lyres, with sacred rage,
Sound to the sadly charming theme,
Commanding tears through every age!
How should the lyres, with sacred rage,
Sound to the sadly charming theme,
Commanding tears through every age!
Thy actions, in exalted lays,
Should with immortal splendour shine;
With Maro's skill the muse should praise,
And his Marcellus yield to mine.
Should with immortal splendour shine;
With Maro's skill the muse should praise,
And his Marcellus yield to mine.
Yet in low strains tho' she has sung
Thy virtues with a feeble voice,
In vain her harp she has not strung,
Who blame her skill will praise her choice.
Thy virtues with a feeble voice,
In vain her harp she has not strung,
Who blame her skill will praise her choice.
| The Poetical Works of the Ingenious and Learned William Meston | |