Sketches in verse :: :: University of Virginia Library

What tho' the splendor of thy genius draws
From Europe's letter'd sons the acclaim of praise;
Yet, with new energy to nerve my lays,
I gaze not on those gifts that gain applause.
No—I survey thee steady in the cause
Of thy religion, in these faithless days!
I venerate that strong unshaken mind
Which, for the Saviour-God, the atoning cross,
A rich-alluring patronage resign'd;
Counting the treasures of the world as dross!

I love that soul which no mean cares engross,
Which melts in sympathy for human kind!
O may I never live to mourn thy loss,
But by thy soothing aid thro' life's dark valley wind!

Feeling as I do, that Mr. Whitaker deserves the highest praise for his constancy in support of (what appears to me to be) genuine Christianity, I am at the same time duly sensible of the illiberality of those who, in their zeal for religion, allow not others to think as well as themselves. It was under this impression that I wrote the following lines in memory of Horne and Kippis.

Tho', pious Horne! around thy tomb
A Bagot, with new fervor fir'd,
A Nares, with patriotic love inspir'd,
A Jones, with all thy genius fraught,
A More, by thy familiar precepts taught,
In sighs relieve the funeral gloom;
Tho', o'er his honour'd Kippis, with a Rees,
A Parr the fond effusion pours,
And tho' an Aikin joins a Towers,
Where, floating on the breeze,
Maria's woodnotes sweet
Her guardian's hovering shade divinely greet;
Yet hath my Muse exulted to survey
Those spirits such a generous grief display
As soars above the little cares of earth—
The vain distinctions,—while by death withdrawn
We mark no more the prelate's lawn!
Yet—yet I see them mourn departed worth,
With such a heart-smile as our being cheers,
And meet in one kind groupe, and mix congenial tears!

It may be needless to add, that in Bishop Bagot the polished manners of modern times, are blended with the piety, simplicity and zeal of the apostolic age—that to Mr. Nares (late student of Christ Church) whose Sermons are read with all the attention due to excellence, the term “Patriotic,” may be justly applied, in its original acceptation—that Mr. Jones, the worthy friend and biographer of Bishop Horne, resembles in amiableness of character that good prelate—that Miss Hannah More, who was formerly honoured with the friendship of Garrick, and latterly with that of Horne, has experienced a happy change, while the enthusiasm of the Poet is lost in the zeal of the Christian—and that the names of Rees, of Parr, of Aikin and of Towers, will be announced, to the triumph of human nature, as long as genius, taste and science shall be respected among men—as long as charity shall remain, a distinguishing feature of Christianity.