[Poems on Several Occasions by Nicholas Amhurst]

Hail to the Man, whom sacred thirst of Fame
Amongst the stars enroll'd a shining Name!
In whose great Soul Apollo fix'd his Seat,
And exil'd Virtue found a safe Retreat:

Who, only to exhaust, increas'd his Store,
And spar'd himself, that he might give the more.

Say, Muse, how still his Sacred Ashes live,
And o'er the Triumphs of the Grave survive:
What Blessings stream'd from his indulgent Hand,
Like morning Dews, and spread o'er half the Land:
How the big embryo's brooded in his Mind,
And sleep confirm'd what Heav'n and White design'd.

Pardon, great Shade! long since from Earth retir'd;
The pious transport of a Youth inspir'd:
Inspir'd to sing in unambitious lays,
A grateful Tribute to his Founder's praise.

His Virtues Heav'n with vast abundance crown'd,
Industrious to diffuse his Gifts around;
Th' immortal Power well knew his boundless Mind,
Whom to enrich was to enrich Mankind.

With silent joy he saw his Wealth increast,
New plans of Bounty forming in his Breast;
And with the same profusion it was giv'n,
He lavish'd the Benevolence of Heav'n:
Fortune disarm'd contracts a guiltless brow,
Forc'd to a Justice she repines to show:

Pale want and hunger are in plenty lost,
And Charity shakes off her wonted Frost.

Old Ocean thus into his ample Main
Receives each circling River's copious Train;
Nor studious to extend his antient Bounds,
And whelm in roaring Seas the frontier Grounds,
Thro' many a porous subterranean Cave
Returns each supernumerary Wave;
Or pours it back in rich Supplies of Rain,
To swell the redd'ning Grape, and plump the teeming Grain.

It chanc'd, when soft Favonian gusts untie
The stiff'ned Floods, and warm the frozen Sky;
When genial heats distil on every Gale,
And various Flora paints the blushing Vale:
The smiling Season call'd our Hero forth,
To view her op'ning Blooms, and lab'ring Earth:
Silent he strays along the lonely Mead,
Where Shrubs their aromatick Fragrance bleed;
His Thoughts a while unbent from doing Good,
Wrapt in the Murmurs of the Vocal flood:
When, faint with Age, or sudden Cares oppress'd,
On the green Herb he stretch'd his Limbs to rest;
Thick Shades, obsequious to the Call, arise,
And a deep Slumber seals his weary Eyes;

His Fancy still awake; the roving Guest
Usurps the Throne of Reason in his Breast:
Forms great Ideas, and religious Schemes,
A busy mime, and floats in golden Dreams.

For see! thro' Air an Angel wings his Flight,
Shrin'd in a Radiance of æthereal Light;
An Olive wreath his flaming Temples bound,
Which seem'd to cast a breezy Shade around:
With Wings expanded o'er the Heroe's Head,
In Words like these, the glorious Vision said.

“Hail, pious Man! in ev'ry Fortune prov'd
“Wise, good and just; by God and Man belov'd!
“Dispatch'd from Heav'n I come; what I relate,
“Hear and believe, and speed the Birth of Fate.

“Where the fam'd Isis laves the verdant Soil
“With fruitful Streams, and crowns the Farmer's Toil;
“Sacred to Learning sumptuous Domes arise,
“And heave their hoary Summits to the Skies:
“Amid these reverend Piles, the Seats of Worth,
“An Elm luxuriant lifts her triple Birth;
“Which Heav'n industrious planted, to withstand
“The Rage of Time, and mock his iron Hand:
“In comely Rank the sister Trees upshoot,
“Share the same vital Sap and parent Root.

“There shalt thou build (for so hath Heav'n decreed;
“As Heav'n enjoins, he will reward the Deed)
“A stately Dome, majestic to the Sight,
“And solid Stone shall bear its quadrate Height:
“There infant Bards shall try the golden Lyre,
“And soften into Sound the jarring Wire:
“There shall the Muse essay her tender Wings
“In humble Strains, and tremble as she sings;
“Till, by degrees embolden'd to the Flight,
“She soars on high, and gains a loftier height.
“From thence shall flow a venerable Race,
“Vers'd in each Art, and form'd with ev'ry Grace:
“Men turn'd to serve in all degrees of Life,
“To limit Laws, or quell seditious Strife;
“To guard the Church, or sway a stormy State,
“For pious Counsels fam'd, and cool Debate:
“Who fond and studious of the public Weal,
“Shall serve their Country with an ardent Zeal;
“With native Freedom bold, despise the Rage
“Of daring Frenzy, and a rebel Age.

“Haste then, great Man, to act as Heav'n decreed,
“And to late Times transmit the God-like Deed:
“Let the high Dome, Immortaliz'd to Fame,
“Worthy the Baptist, bear the Baptist's Name.

So spake the Vision, and resumes the Skies,
While downy Sleep forsakes the Heroe's Eyes:

Still, lost in Extasy, he seems to hear;
Still the soft Accents murmur in his Ear;
Still glow'd his Breast, with deep Attention charm'd;
Still throb'd his Heart, with pious Ardour warm'd;
His inmost Soul with eager Glory fir'd,
Resolv'd to execute what Heav'n inspir'd:
The great Foundation grows his hourly Theme,
And rising Roofs confess the golden Dream.

He was Benefactor to most of the Cities and Corporations in England.

University of Virginia Library

THE LEGEND: A POEM