Malvern Hills with Minor Poems, and Essays. By Joseph Cottle. Fourth Edition |
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MONODY ON JOHN HENDERSON, A. B.
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 | Malvern Hills |  |
MONODY ON JOHN HENDERSON, A. B.
(LATE OF PEMBROKE COLLEGE, OXFORD.)
WHILST Pity droop'd her head and Genius sigh'd,
In life's warm prime, the Friend of Virtue died!
In life's warm prime, the Friend of Virtue died!
As o'er thy tomb, my Henderson! I bend,
Shall I not praise thee? Scholar! Christian! Friend!
The tears which o'er a Brother's recent grave,
Fond Nature sheds, those copious tears I gave;
But now that Time her softening hues has brought,
And mellow'd anguish into pensive thought;
Since through the varying scenes of life I've pass'd,
Comparing still the former with the last,
I prize thee more! The Great, the Learn'd, I see,
Yet Memory turns from little men to thee,
And views, with smiles, that light her trembling tear,
Thy Genius, destin'd for a nobler sphere.
Shall I not praise thee? Scholar! Christian! Friend!
The tears which o'er a Brother's recent grave,
Fond Nature sheds, those copious tears I gave;
But now that Time her softening hues has brought,
And mellow'd anguish into pensive thought;
Since through the varying scenes of life I've pass'd,
Comparing still the former with the last,
340
Yet Memory turns from little men to thee,
And views, with smiles, that light her trembling tear,
Thy Genius, destin'd for a nobler sphere.
If human spirits then begin to live,
When they mortality's frail robe receive;
And, born to endless being, urge their way,
Progressive travellers through the eternal day;
Dart wide the glance; yet, dart on God alone,
Approaching still his ever-distant throne;
If, e'en the unletter'd Peasant, in that flight,
Shall soar beyond a Newton's earthly height,
To what shall he attain, whose infant scan,
Pierc'd through the frames of nature, and of man?
When they mortality's frail robe receive;
And, born to endless being, urge their way,
Progressive travellers through the eternal day;
Dart wide the glance; yet, dart on God alone,
Approaching still his ever-distant throne;
If, e'en the unletter'd Peasant, in that flight,
Shall soar beyond a Newton's earthly height,
To what shall he attain, whose infant scan,
Pierc'd through the frames of nature, and of man?
Indulgent Heaven, to raise our grovelling souls
To glorious possibilities, unfolds
To the rapt gaze, one being here and there,
On whom he pours a rich luxuriant care;
To whom he gives, the mind of daring flight—
The brow of intellect, the eye of light.
And such was Henderson; who came to show
What Heaven could teach to man, and man could know.
To glorious possibilities, unfolds
To the rapt gaze, one being here and there,
On whom he pours a rich luxuriant care;
To whom he gives, the mind of daring flight—
The brow of intellect, the eye of light.
And such was Henderson; who came to show
What Heaven could teach to man, and man could know.
'Twas his, the bounds of science to explore,
And scatter light, where darkness dwelt before.
Ere manhood's prime, his soul had run the round
Of human knowledge, simple or profound;
Alike could fathom mind, and, lucid, pry,
Where, with his suns, the zodiac belts the sky;
Or stoop to rear the flower, or prune the tree,
Or roll the school-boy's marble on his knee.
E'en as the lark, by loftier flight opprest,
That seeks at eve, her calm and lowly nest;
Who, when new vigour friendly sleep supplies,
And light, returning, streaks the orient skies,
Up-soaring, calls the opening morn her own,
And revels in the tide of new-born day, alone.
And scatter light, where darkness dwelt before.
Ere manhood's prime, his soul had run the round
Of human knowledge, simple or profound;
Alike could fathom mind, and, lucid, pry,
Where, with his suns, the zodiac belts the sky;
Or stoop to rear the flower, or prune the tree,
Or roll the school-boy's marble on his knee.
E'en as the lark, by loftier flight opprest,
That seeks at eve, her calm and lowly nest;
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And light, returning, streaks the orient skies,
Up-soaring, calls the opening morn her own,
And revels in the tide of new-born day, alone.
Not souls, from him, lay ambush'd, he could trace
The mute, unlying language of the face;
In manhood's varying features, knew to read
The ruling passion stamp'd, the habitual deed;
And, through the acorn's fibrils, saw the hour
When the tall oak, defied the tempest's power.
The mute, unlying language of the face;
In manhood's varying features, knew to read
The ruling passion stamp'd, the habitual deed;
And, through the acorn's fibrils, saw the hour
When the tall oak, defied the tempest's power.
Though like an eagle he could stand sublime
On summits, which no toil might hope to climb;
And though, whene'er he spake, the wondering sage
Approved his wisdom, and forgot his age;
Yet did kind Heaven one worthier gift impart,
The priceless treasure of a lowly heart!
O hear, thou proud one! thou, whose soul assumes
Wisdom's sage robe, or Wit's attractive plumes,
Though Learning's Alpine height, before him shone,
He, on the footstool, rear'd a nobler throne:
E'en children doated on his accent mild,
And sported, careless, round their fellow child.
On summits, which no toil might hope to climb;
And though, whene'er he spake, the wondering sage
Approved his wisdom, and forgot his age;
Yet did kind Heaven one worthier gift impart,
The priceless treasure of a lowly heart!
O hear, thou proud one! thou, whose soul assumes
Wisdom's sage robe, or Wit's attractive plumes,
Though Learning's Alpine height, before him shone,
He, on the footstool, rear'd a nobler throne:
E'en children doated on his accent mild,
And sported, careless, round their fellow child.
Ye sons of calumny! go, hide your head!
Away, ye Vampires, that devour the dead!
Who fain would force the long-clos'd wound to bleed,
And hunt through Paradise to find a weed.
When droop'd his frame beneath its restless lord,
And cut its sheath, the keenly-temper'd sword;
What, if an artificial aid he sought,
Worn out with prodigality of thought!
What, if his frail car driven with heedless force,
He fired the wheels, in his too rapid course!
'Tis true, the midnight bowl he lov'd to share,
Yet never cloud it rais'd, or maniac glare;
But, only made, with stimulation kind,
The body wakeful to th' unsleeping mind;
But only, (till unmechanized by death,)
Kept the pipe vocal to the player's breath.
With wonted thought, with loftier eloquence,
Truth's sacred precepts, would he then dispense:
So fair the effect, that Virtue made a pause,
And only, not forgave the faulty cause.
Away, ye Vampires, that devour the dead!
Who fain would force the long-clos'd wound to bleed,
And hunt through Paradise to find a weed.
When droop'd his frame beneath its restless lord,
And cut its sheath, the keenly-temper'd sword;
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Worn out with prodigality of thought!
What, if his frail car driven with heedless force,
He fired the wheels, in his too rapid course!
'Tis true, the midnight bowl he lov'd to share,
Yet never cloud it rais'd, or maniac glare;
But, only made, with stimulation kind,
The body wakeful to th' unsleeping mind;
But only, (till unmechanized by death,)
Kept the pipe vocal to the player's breath.
With wonted thought, with loftier eloquence,
Truth's sacred precepts, would he then dispense:
So fair the effect, that Virtue made a pause,
And only, not forgave the faulty cause.
Guarded with pious joy, and vestal care,
Those precious hours, let memory, sacred, bear,
When o'er his couch, with tears, I nightly hung,
And drank the words of wisdom from his tongue.
The simplest truths, that else, had quickly fled,
Strike, with deep meaning, from a sick friend's bed:
How richly, then, his precepts, must I prize,
Lov'd by the good, and echo'd by the wise.
Those precious hours, let memory, sacred, bear,
When o'er his couch, with tears, I nightly hung,
And drank the words of wisdom from his tongue.
The simplest truths, that else, had quickly fled,
Strike, with deep meaning, from a sick friend's bed:
How richly, then, his precepts, must I prize,
Lov'd by the good, and echo'd by the wise.
I sorrow that thy life should pass away,
That thou should'st mingle with inglorious clay,
And leave no test, by which the future time,
Might hear thee still, and learn thy soul sublime!
But, brief the race to thee ordain'd to run,
Clouds soon obscured the splendour of thy sun!—
And how would thousands, now with chaplets crown'd,
Into Oblivion's gulf, have plunged, profound,
If they, when thrice ten years had run their race,
Like thee, had sunk, into the grave's embrace.
That thou should'st mingle with inglorious clay,
And leave no test, by which the future time,
Might hear thee still, and learn thy soul sublime!
But, brief the race to thee ordain'd to run,
Clouds soon obscured the splendour of thy sun!—
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Into Oblivion's gulf, have plunged, profound,
If they, when thrice ten years had run their race,
Like thee, had sunk, into the grave's embrace.
Where were a Shakspeare's honours, had he died
In early life, like thee? — his Country's Pride!
Where were a Milton's wreath — that Bard Divine!
Had death o'erwhelm'd him at an age like thine?
Yet mortals ne'er their erring praise bestow
On those, who, having pass'd their span below,
Bequeath no gifts, that after years might name,
With compass, and with line, their right to fame.—
In early life, like thee? — his Country's Pride!
Where were a Milton's wreath — that Bard Divine!
Had death o'erwhelm'd him at an age like thine?
Yet mortals ne'er their erring praise bestow
On those, who, having pass'd their span below,
Bequeath no gifts, that after years might name,
With compass, and with line, their right to fame.—
Must we pronounce, all barrenness, the mind
Which hath not left memorial, fair, behind?—
Ten thousand secret springs combine their spells
To rouse or damp the fire where Genius dwells!—
Ye honour'd Dead! whom diffidence restrained,
Ye noble Souls! whom adverse fortune chain'd,
Binding to earth, who else had pierced the sky,
Ye pure and heaven-born Spirits! doom'd to die
Before your minds disclosed their precious store,
Before your eagle pinions learn'd to soar!
Shall ye, endued with such voluptuous bloom,
Pass on, unnoticed, to the silent tomb,
Nor one, revolve upon the future day,
When fruit should chase the blossom from the spray?
Which hath not left memorial, fair, behind?—
Ten thousand secret springs combine their spells
To rouse or damp the fire where Genius dwells!—
Ye honour'd Dead! whom diffidence restrained,
Ye noble Souls! whom adverse fortune chain'd,
Binding to earth, who else had pierced the sky,
Ye pure and heaven-born Spirits! doom'd to die
Before your minds disclosed their precious store,
Before your eagle pinions learn'd to soar!
Shall ye, endued with such voluptuous bloom,
Pass on, unnoticed, to the silent tomb,
Nor one, revolve upon the future day,
When fruit should chase the blossom from the spray?
Do not the fairest flowers in Nature's field,
Wrapt in themselves, full oft, no fragrance yield?
Shall man prescribe th' Almighty's aims and ends,
And call all vain, but what he comprehends?—
Some seeds expand on earth, and charm our sight,
Whilst many a soul forsakes these realms of night,
And, with him, bears the Germ, ordain'd to rise
Mid' more congenial suns, and brighter skies.
Wrapt in themselves, full oft, no fragrance yield?
Shall man prescribe th' Almighty's aims and ends,
And call all vain, but what he comprehends?—
Some seeds expand on earth, and charm our sight,
Whilst many a soul forsakes these realms of night,
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Mid' more congenial suns, and brighter skies.
To blank forgetfulness, what myriads glide!
And must thou, Henderson! augment the tide?
Is there no tower, or steadfast rock, to climb,
And save thee, from the sweeping flood of Time?
Ah no! I hear the surge of Lethe rave,
I see thee whelmed in his remorseless wave!—
A host shall pass thee in the road to praise,
Whose light had died before thy sun-like blaze,
Hadst thou, with all the effulgence Nature gave,
Unveil'd thy soul; but, to an early grave,
Thy steps descended! Death's untimely blast
Thy honours nipp'd, and a dark mantle cast
O'er all thy worth and greatness! — Comet bright!
That, in a hundred years, once pours its light
On this our lower earth, and, then retires
To blend, with distant worlds, its ardent fires!
And must thou, Henderson! augment the tide?
Is there no tower, or steadfast rock, to climb,
And save thee, from the sweeping flood of Time?
Ah no! I hear the surge of Lethe rave,
I see thee whelmed in his remorseless wave!—
A host shall pass thee in the road to praise,
Whose light had died before thy sun-like blaze,
Hadst thou, with all the effulgence Nature gave,
Unveil'd thy soul; but, to an early grave,
Thy steps descended! Death's untimely blast
Thy honours nipp'd, and a dark mantle cast
O'er all thy worth and greatness! — Comet bright!
That, in a hundred years, once pours its light
On this our lower earth, and, then retires
To blend, with distant worlds, its ardent fires!
Strangers may smile, incredulous, to see
The funeral honours, friendship pays to thee;
Whilst those who saw thy worth, thy talents knew,
Will blame the line which gives but — half thy due.
The funeral honours, friendship pays to thee;
Whilst those who saw thy worth, thy talents knew,
Will blame the line which gives but — half thy due.
Though thy discourse was clothed in living green,
Whence servile dulness might rich harvests glean;
Though thou, in all thy plenitude of power,
Didst pearls, around thy path, profusely shower,
With roses, fresh and fair, (that, haply, now
Compose the garland for a stranger's brow,
Whilst honours, due to thee, another shares,
As the full foliage hides the limb that bears;)
Yet, these are fleeting clouds from fairy land—
A tottering fabric, on a base of sand!
For, like morn's star, before the orb of day,
As years advance, thy memory fades away;
One generation doubts, the next denies,
And, robbed of oil, thy trembling taper dies!
Whence servile dulness might rich harvests glean;
Though thou, in all thy plenitude of power,
Didst pearls, around thy path, profusely shower,
With roses, fresh and fair, (that, haply, now
Compose the garland for a stranger's brow,
Whilst honours, due to thee, another shares,
As the full foliage hides the limb that bears;)
Yet, these are fleeting clouds from fairy land—
A tottering fabric, on a base of sand!
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As years advance, thy memory fades away;
One generation doubts, the next denies,
And, robbed of oil, thy trembling taper dies!
Clouds, dark and threatening, float before my sight!
The Star, that led the train, expires in night!
Though born to teach, thyself, by Nature taught,
When all who knew thee, to the grave are brought;
When men decide from symbols left behind,
And, with false standards, measure mind with mind;
Since no broad base of thought was left by thee,
On which to found an immortality;
What puny spirit may not soon arise,
Contest thy honours, or dispute thy prize?—
Perchance, as time's swift current rolls along,
Thy name, on earth, may live, but in this song!
Thou, who could'st Genius' brightest sons outshine,
Depend for fame, on Cottle's artless line!
The Star, that led the train, expires in night!
Though born to teach, thyself, by Nature taught,
When all who knew thee, to the grave are brought;
When men decide from symbols left behind,
And, with false standards, measure mind with mind;
Since no broad base of thought was left by thee,
On which to found an immortality;
What puny spirit may not soon arise,
Contest thy honours, or dispute thy prize?—
Perchance, as time's swift current rolls along,
Thy name, on earth, may live, but in this song!
Thou, who could'st Genius' brightest sons outshine,
Depend for fame, on Cottle's artless line!
Brief is the pride of man! one passing hour,
And human glory withers like the flower!
Where now is all the sense that once was thine,
The grace that charmed us, and the wit divine?
Where are those lips that play'd so well their part?—
And where that eye which analyzed the heart?
Cold in the grave, those lips, the worms caress!
And that bright eye is dim and motionless!—
And human glory withers like the flower!
Where now is all the sense that once was thine,
The grace that charmed us, and the wit divine?
Where are those lips that play'd so well their part?—
And where that eye which analyzed the heart?
Cold in the grave, those lips, the worms caress!
And that bright eye is dim and motionless!—
As thou hadst long Truth's holy empire spread,
So Truth was honour'd when thy Spirit fled.
Oh, hither come, all ye, who dare deride
That faith, which blooms alone by Virtue's side;
Who rashly spurn, what wiser minds receive,
And just have wit enough to disbelieve:
Or ye, who pine for intellectual food,
And, o'er the void of cold conjecture, brood;
While many a dark and cheerless glance you cast,
Toward that dread foe which must o'ertake at last!
Oh, hither come! from me, the mourner, hear
What tranquil smiles a Christian's lips can wear,
When some kind angel sooths the labouring breath,
And lifts th' emancipating wand of death.
So Truth was honour'd when thy Spirit fled.
Oh, hither come, all ye, who dare deride
That faith, which blooms alone by Virtue's side;
Who rashly spurn, what wiser minds receive,
And just have wit enough to disbelieve:
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And, o'er the void of cold conjecture, brood;
While many a dark and cheerless glance you cast,
Toward that dread foe which must o'ertake at last!
Oh, hither come! from me, the mourner, hear
What tranquil smiles a Christian's lips can wear,
When some kind angel sooths the labouring breath,
And lifts th' emancipating wand of death.
Then only not the friend of all mankind,
When to thyself a foe! farewell, great mind;
We wander, tearful, through this vale below,
But thou art there, where tears no longer flow;
Where Love and Joy eternal vigils hold,
And scatter healing as their wings unfold;
Where souls, their radiant course, for ever run,
Like planets, circling the Almighty Sun.
When to thyself a foe! farewell, great mind;
We wander, tearful, through this vale below,
But thou art there, where tears no longer flow;
Where Love and Joy eternal vigils hold,
And scatter healing as their wings unfold;
Where souls, their radiant course, for ever run,
Like planets, circling the Almighty Sun.
If friendship be a flower, whose am'ranth bloom
Endures that heavenly clime, beyond the tomb,
I, haply I, thy honour'd form may see;
And thou, perchance, not sad, remember me:
E'en thou mayst hail my freedom from life's chain,
And, be my loved Instructor, once again;—
Dispel the mists, upborne, by errors' rays,
Unfold the doors of Wisdom to my gaze,
And teach mine eye, to grasp, with nobler sense,
The dark, mysterious rounds of Providence.
Endures that heavenly clime, beyond the tomb,
I, haply I, thy honour'd form may see;
And thou, perchance, not sad, remember me:
E'en thou mayst hail my freedom from life's chain,
And, be my loved Instructor, once again;—
Dispel the mists, upborne, by errors' rays,
Unfold the doors of Wisdom to my gaze,
And teach mine eye, to grasp, with nobler sense,
The dark, mysterious rounds of Providence.
Upon the thought, with solemn joy, I dwell,
Till that blest hour, great mind, again, farewell!
Till that blest hour, great mind, again, farewell!
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