Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend Printed but not published |
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LINES,
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 | Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend |  |
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LINES,
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. WARREN, FORMERLY MRS. MERRY, OF THE LONDON THEATRE.
[1808.]
Shall Belvidera's voice no more
Lend to the muse its peerless aid,
That erst on Albion's ingrate shore,
Soothed Otway's discontented shade?
Lend to the muse its peerless aid,
That erst on Albion's ingrate shore,
Soothed Otway's discontented shade?
She, to no single soil confined,
Sought in our climes extended fame;
The wreaths of either world entwined,
And taught both continents her name.
Sought in our climes extended fame;
The wreaths of either world entwined,
And taught both continents her name.
Nor, of those strains that crowds have hailed,
Small is the praise, nor light the gain;
Clio can boast, such sounds prevailed,
When Faith and Freedom prayed in vain.
Small is the praise, nor light the gain;
Clio can boast, such sounds prevailed,
When Faith and Freedom prayed in vain.
Such notes the Mantuan minstrel owns,
Long lured his Trojan from the main;
And bleeding Arria in such tones,
Assured her lord she “felt not pain.”
Long lured his Trojan from the main;
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Assured her lord she “felt not pain.”
Such notes, in Rome's delirious days,
Could liberty and laws restore;
Could bid “be still” sedition's waves,
And faction's whirlwind cease to roar.
Could liberty and laws restore;
Could bid “be still” sedition's waves,
And faction's whirlwind cease to roar.
'Twas by such suasive sounds inspired,
The matrons pressed the hostile field;
The Volscian hosts amazed retired;
The proud Patrician learned to yield.
The matrons pressed the hostile field;
The Volscian hosts amazed retired;
The proud Patrician learned to yield.
Such powers, oh had Calphurnia known,
Great Julius all unharmed had stood!
No senate-walls beheld his doom,
Nor Pompey's marble drank his blood!
Great Julius all unharmed had stood!
No senate-walls beheld his doom,
Nor Pompey's marble drank his blood!
For thee—though born to happier times,
And gentler tasks than these endured,
Thy voice might oft prevent those crimes
Which e'en thy voice could scarce have cured.
And gentler tasks than these endured,
Thy voice might oft prevent those crimes
Which e'en thy voice could scarce have cured.
Although no civic aim was there,
Yet not in vain that voice was given,
Which often as it blessed the air,
Informed us what was heard in heaven!
Yet not in vain that voice was given,
Which often as it blessed the air,
Informed us what was heard in heaven!
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Sure, when renewed, thy powers shall rise,
To hymn before th' empyreal throne,
Angels shall start in wild surprise,
To hear a note so like their own!
To hymn before th' empyreal throne,
Angels shall start in wild surprise,
To hear a note so like their own!
| Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend | |