A postscript to the new Bath guide A Poem by Anthony Pasquin [i.e. John Williams] |
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ELEGIACK VERSES ON THE DEATH OF THE LATE MARCHIONESS OF LANSDOWN. |
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 | A postscript to the new Bath guide |  |
ELEGIACK VERSES ON THE DEATH OF THE LATE MARCHIONESS OF LANSDOWN.
INMATE of Horror, relative of Sin,
Tremendous, gaunt, repulsive and accurst;
Whose ebon rod awakens Misery's din,
Who craves Oblivion's draughts to sate thy thirst:
Say why thus limitless you prowl behind,
To immolate with glee the hope of human kind?
Are we thus subject to engendering ill?
Is all the future given to thy will?
Shall each succeeding hour be charg'd with woe,
And men feel blest but as they do not know?
Ah! cruel Despot, thou hast broke the spring
Of polish'd life, and shorn the social wing.
Thus Salem's fane by Ruin was despoil'd,
Thus Fury smote the lilly in the wild:
Thus dark'ning vapours sully Nature's day,
And steal from Rapture's sight the vital ray.
Thus from the harbinger of Beauty's bane
Shrinks Vegetation through her gay domain,
When Autumn's boist'rous, nipping ministry
Blight the first leaf, and wound the trembling tree.
On whom that envied wreath shall we bestow,
Which Merit braided for her silver brow?
Who will presume to gird that magic Zone,
Which she was wont to wear;
When in the radiant circles of the fair,
Orinda supereminently shone?
Her Charms call'd gladness in the gazer's eye,
Her Wit o'eraw'd the arrogance of fools:
She gave to Grief a sympathetic sigh,
And all her deeds will live as moral rules.
Her honied Eloquence enchain'd the peevish throng,
Who sled their waspish feuds to listen to her song.
Her life renew'd th'establishment of Good,
Her act was even nobler than her blood:
The icy barb of Death was sheath'd by Peace,
Her resignation made his victories cease.
Lovely in Innocence, by Peace upborne,
She sparkled even in the blaze of day:
Fresh as a dew-drop on the armed thorn,
Bright as the diamond's impressive ray:
But all her purity could not avail,
Or add one moment to her mortal dream.
Who can resist when destinies assail?
That awful Cause to whom all good is given,
Deputing from on high a chosen beam,
Exhal'd the Gem to Heaven.
Tremendous, gaunt, repulsive and accurst;
Whose ebon rod awakens Misery's din,
Who craves Oblivion's draughts to sate thy thirst:
Say why thus limitless you prowl behind,
To immolate with glee the hope of human kind?
129
Is all the future given to thy will?
Shall each succeeding hour be charg'd with woe,
And men feel blest but as they do not know?
Ah! cruel Despot, thou hast broke the spring
Of polish'd life, and shorn the social wing.
Thus Salem's fane by Ruin was despoil'd,
Thus Fury smote the lilly in the wild:
Thus dark'ning vapours sully Nature's day,
And steal from Rapture's sight the vital ray.
Thus from the harbinger of Beauty's bane
Shrinks Vegetation through her gay domain,
When Autumn's boist'rous, nipping ministry
Blight the first leaf, and wound the trembling tree.
On whom that envied wreath shall we bestow,
Which Merit braided for her silver brow?
130
Which she was wont to wear;
When in the radiant circles of the fair,
Orinda supereminently shone?
Her Charms call'd gladness in the gazer's eye,
Her Wit o'eraw'd the arrogance of fools:
She gave to Grief a sympathetic sigh,
And all her deeds will live as moral rules.
Her honied Eloquence enchain'd the peevish throng,
Who sled their waspish feuds to listen to her song.
Her life renew'd th'establishment of Good,
Her act was even nobler than her blood:
The icy barb of Death was sheath'd by Peace,
Her resignation made his victories cease.
Lovely in Innocence, by Peace upborne,
She sparkled even in the blaze of day:
131
Bright as the diamond's impressive ray:
But all her purity could not avail,
Or add one moment to her mortal dream.
Who can resist when destinies assail?
That awful Cause to whom all good is given,
Deputing from on high a chosen beam,
Exhal'd the Gem to Heaven.
| A postscript to the new Bath guide | |