Poems on Several Occasions In Two Volumes. By Mr. Joseph Mitchell |
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VERSES ON THE DEATH of Mr. S---.
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
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VERSES ON THE DEATH of Mr. S---.
Address'd to his Friends.
------ Omnium
Versatur Urna ------
Hor.
Versatur Urna ------
Hor.
He was my Friend—I lov'd, and lost, him too—
And shall not I lament, as much as you?
With Sighs and Tears you sanctify his Hearse;
To Sighs and Tears I superadd my Verse.
And, sure, if Spirits from their Flesh set free,
Know what is done on Earth, his Soul will see
And mark the Sorrows, which distinguish me.
And shall not I lament, as much as you?
With Sighs and Tears you sanctify his Hearse;
To Sighs and Tears I superadd my Verse.
And, sure, if Spirits from their Flesh set free,
Know what is done on Earth, his Soul will see
And mark the Sorrows, which distinguish me.
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To pay Him all my Love, and pay it so
As honest Debtors shou'd whate'er they owe,
Were to write Elegy with nobler Strain,
Than I, or Bards more skilful, can maintain.
Much might be said, did Grief but wear a Face
Of Woe; or were my Muse but Common-Place:
But Worth, like his, wou'd be debas'd by Art,
And Eloquence display an untouch'd Heart!
As honest Debtors shou'd whate'er they owe,
Were to write Elegy with nobler Strain,
Than I, or Bards more skilful, can maintain.
Much might be said, did Grief but wear a Face
Of Woe; or were my Muse but Common-Place:
But Worth, like his, wou'd be debas'd by Art,
And Eloquence display an untouch'd Heart!
Yet who, that knew his Character and Life,
Allows not that my S--- detested Strife,
Falshood and Folly? And adorn'd his Youth
With manly Honour, Honesty, and Truth?
Where was sedate, unruffled Temper shown,
On all Occasions, perfect as his own?
When shall we see a Man so young, so stay'd?
Or where the social Virtues more display'd?
To others candid, constant to his Friend,
In censuring slow, unwilling to offend;
Humble and modest, kind, obliging, just,
Belov'd of all, and faithful to his Trust?
Who, that observ'd his Air, his Words, and Ways,
Will say my Muse bestows a borrow'd Praise?
Allows not that my S--- detested Strife,
Falshood and Folly? And adorn'd his Youth
With manly Honour, Honesty, and Truth?
Where was sedate, unruffled Temper shown,
On all Occasions, perfect as his own?
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Or where the social Virtues more display'd?
To others candid, constant to his Friend,
In censuring slow, unwilling to offend;
Humble and modest, kind, obliging, just,
Belov'd of all, and faithful to his Trust?
Who, that observ'd his Air, his Words, and Ways,
Will say my Muse bestows a borrow'd Praise?
But tho' his Virtues many Friends have made,
Who lov'd him living, and lament him dead,
What boots it now? One lawless Stream of Blood,
With Force revulsive, barr'd the vital Flood;
Swell'd o'er the Heart; and, in the fatal Strife,
Bore him at once from all the World and Life.
Who lov'd him living, and lament him dead,
What boots it now? One lawless Stream of Blood,
With Force revulsive, barr'd the vital Flood;
Swell'd o'er the Heart; and, in the fatal Strife,
Bore him at once from all the World and Life.
262
How various are the Arms of subtle Death?
What certain Means to stop precarious Breath?
The restless Foe in Paths unheeded treads,
And slow Disease and fierce Affliction spreads.
Thro' Sea and Land, in Peace and War, we go,
And Rest and Action try t'elude the Blow.
In vain we hope to shun th' imperious Pow'r,
Or bribe Him to suspend the destin'd Hour.
What certain Means to stop precarious Breath?
The restless Foe in Paths unheeded treads,
And slow Disease and fierce Affliction spreads.
Thro' Sea and Land, in Peace and War, we go,
And Rest and Action try t'elude the Blow.
In vain we hope to shun th' imperious Pow'r,
Or bribe Him to suspend the destin'd Hour.
Mortals, be wise, and, ere it proves too late,
Wake from your Pleasures, and prepare for Fate:
S--- is no more! the very Thought affrights,
Hangs o'er my Hopes, and clouds my dash'd Delights.
Strong as he was, and healthy as the best,
How soon he fell! to hungry Worms a Guest!
Yet He, from Vices and from Follies free,
Had more to plead, and less to fear than we.
We may a while enjoy the transient Light—
With him, alas! 'tis ever, ever Night!
Wake from your Pleasures, and prepare for Fate:
S--- is no more! the very Thought affrights,
Hangs o'er my Hopes, and clouds my dash'd Delights.
Strong as he was, and healthy as the best,
How soon he fell! to hungry Worms a Guest!
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Had more to plead, and less to fear than we.
We may a while enjoy the transient Light—
With him, alas! 'tis ever, ever Night!
| Poems on Several Occasions | |