 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
To the Hon. Mrs. CONOLLY.
How pious Worth exalted Rank endears;
What lovely Grandeur Virtue lends to Years!
What Dignity humane, what awful Grace,
Dwell in that Mien, and open in that Face!
A Mind thus bless'd shall eye the last slow Sand,
When tardy Time uplifts his lenient Hand:
With dauntless Joy the untry'd State explore,
Quit Nature's Limits, and with Seraphs soar.
Why else would Piety her Palm display?
Why else invite us to the Realms of Day?
Sure Heav'n had made the Christian Task too hard,
If Goodness here could claim no just Reward:
If Faith, far-seeing, found no chearing Gleam,
Nor Ev'ning Hope enjoy'd the Morning Beam.
Lo! dawning Glories gild this Vale of Strife,
And Heav'n's own Lamp illumes the Bounds of Life.
Sedate, from thence thy tranquil Eye now cast
On future Pleasures, and enjoy the past.
Pleasures sublime and pure still genuine glow,
Which only Hearts like thine can ever know;
Where ev'ry Virtue in warm League combin'd,
Are treasur'd up in Store for Humankind:
Thence flowing daily through thy gen'rous Hand,
Relieve all Care, and glad a grateful Land.
For thee, incessant, breathes the Heart-felt Pray'r,
The Wish unfeigned, and the Vow sincere:
For thee the Widow lifts her tearless Eyes,
For thee the Orphan's Incense mounts the Skies:
The public Voice for thee still fervent prays,
And begs each Blessing from thy length of Days;
Long here to flourish, long thy Pow'r dispense,
Ere Heav'n shall call, and Angels waft thee hence.
What lovely Grandeur Virtue lends to Years!
What Dignity humane, what awful Grace,
Dwell in that Mien, and open in that Face!
A Mind thus bless'd shall eye the last slow Sand,
When tardy Time uplifts his lenient Hand:
With dauntless Joy the untry'd State explore,
Quit Nature's Limits, and with Seraphs soar.
Why else would Piety her Palm display?
Why else invite us to the Realms of Day?
46
If Goodness here could claim no just Reward:
If Faith, far-seeing, found no chearing Gleam,
Nor Ev'ning Hope enjoy'd the Morning Beam.
Lo! dawning Glories gild this Vale of Strife,
And Heav'n's own Lamp illumes the Bounds of Life.
Sedate, from thence thy tranquil Eye now cast
On future Pleasures, and enjoy the past.
Pleasures sublime and pure still genuine glow,
Which only Hearts like thine can ever know;
Where ev'ry Virtue in warm League combin'd,
Are treasur'd up in Store for Humankind:
Thence flowing daily through thy gen'rous Hand,
Relieve all Care, and glad a grateful Land.
For thee, incessant, breathes the Heart-felt Pray'r,
The Wish unfeigned, and the Vow sincere:
For thee the Widow lifts her tearless Eyes,
For thee the Orphan's Incense mounts the Skies:
The public Voice for thee still fervent prays,
And begs each Blessing from thy length of Days;
Long here to flourish, long thy Pow'r dispense,
Ere Heav'n shall call, and Angels waft thee hence.
Take then the Plaudit to thy Merit due,
The Crown unfading, and the Triumph true.
How vain the tinsel Pomp, which Monarchs claim,
The Blaze of Grandeur, and the Blast of Fame,
Those useless Trappings of external State!
'Tis Wisdom shines, 'tis Virtue makes them great:
Such virtuous Wisdom as adorns thy Mind
By Hope exalted, and by Faith refin'd.
With grateful Fervours must that Bosom swell,
Where pious Confidence, and Meekness dwell.
The Soul firm settled, and the Thought serene,
The Part well acted, and the closing Scene,
Appear triumphant to th'exulting Eye,
Ere Angels draw the Curtain of the Sky.
'Tis thine, the Debt of Nature thus to pay,
And close the Ev'ning of thy splendid Day:
Thine, with Applause, to quit the mortal Stage;
Thy Part a Pattern for each future Age,
To teach Posterity the Track Divine,
And point th'immortal Path which once was thine.
The Crown unfading, and the Triumph true.
How vain the tinsel Pomp, which Monarchs claim,
The Blaze of Grandeur, and the Blast of Fame,
Those useless Trappings of external State!
'Tis Wisdom shines, 'tis Virtue makes them great:
Such virtuous Wisdom as adorns thy Mind
By Hope exalted, and by Faith refin'd.
With grateful Fervours must that Bosom swell,
Where pious Confidence, and Meekness dwell.
47
The Part well acted, and the closing Scene,
Appear triumphant to th'exulting Eye,
Ere Angels draw the Curtain of the Sky.
'Tis thine, the Debt of Nature thus to pay,
And close the Ev'ning of thy splendid Day:
Thine, with Applause, to quit the mortal Stage;
Thy Part a Pattern for each future Age,
To teach Posterity the Track Divine,
And point th'immortal Path which once was thine.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |