Слике страница


Τ ο





[ocr errors]

INSPIR’D by what melodious Hughes has sung,

I'll tune a lyre that long has lain unstrung : Awak'd from drowsy sloth, and soothing rest, Poetic transports fire my ravish'd breast !

What pleasure must retiring Dryden find,
To see that art his skilful Muse refin'd,
So much improv'd by those he leaves behind!
So when a father fees a careful son
Enlarge those coffers, which were first his own,
With joy to heaven he lifts his aged eyes, 10
Blesses his prosperous heir, and calmly dies.

May all your fortune, like your numbers, shine,
And smoothly flow, without one rugged line !
Till we confess the genius is the fame,
That guides your fortune, and poetic flame.

So when of old some sportive amorous god
Vouchsaf'd awhile to leave his bleft abode,
In whatsoever form the guest appear’d,
His heavenly lustre fhone, and was rever'd.

W. Wortsa

February, 1697.

[blocks in formation]

ROUND Hughes’s humble, though distinguis’d

The Muses, wreath'd with baleful cypress, mourn ;
In every face a deep distress appears,


o'erflows with tributary tears : Such was the scene, when, by the gods requir’d,

5 Majestic Homer from the world retir'd: Such grief the Nine o'er Maro's tomb bestow'd; And tears like these for Addison late flow'd.

Snatch'd from the earth, above its trifling praise, Thee, Hughes, to happier climes thy fate conveys; 10 Eas'd of its load, thy gentle spirit roves Through realms refulgent, and celestial groves; The toils of life, the pangs of death are o'er, And care, and pain, and sickness, are no more. O may the spot that holds thy blest remains 15 (The noblest spoil earth’s spacious breast contains) Its tribute pay; may richest flowers around Spring lightly forth, and mark the sacred ground; There may thy bays its shady honours spread, And o'er thy urn eternal odours shed;


* Daughter of Judge Cowper, afterwards married to Col. Martin Madan, author of the Progress of Poetry, &c. and still living, an ornament to her sex and age. Another of her composi. tions is prefixed to the Poems of Mr. Pope. N.



[ocr errors]

Immortal as thy fame, and verse, still grow,
Till those shall cease to live, and Thames to flow.

Nature fubdued foretold the great decline,
And every heart was plung'd in grief, but thine ;
Thy soul, ferene, the conflict did maintain, 25
And trac'd the phantom death in years of pain ;
Not years of pain thy steady mind alarm'd,
By judgment strengthen'd, and with virtue arm'd;
Still like thyfelf, when sinking life ebb'd low,
Nor rashly dar'd, nor meanly fear'd the blow;
Loose to the world, of every grace poffeft,
Greatly resign'd, thou sought'st the stranger, REST:
Firm as his fate, so thy own Phocyas dy'd,
While the barb’d arrow trembled in his fide.
Drawn by thy pen, the theory we see;

35 The practic part, too soon ! beheld in thee.

Who now shall strike the lyre with skill divine,
Who to harmonious sounds * harmonious numbers join!
Who the rapacious tide of vice control,
And, while they charm the sense, reform the soul ! 40
In whom the lovely sister arts unite,
With virtue, folid sense, and boundless wit?
Such was the turn of thy exalted mind,
Sparkling as polish'd gems, as purest gold refin'd.

Great Ruler of our passions ! who with art 45
Subdued the fierce, and warm’d the frozen heart,
Bid glory in our breasts with temper beat,
And valour, separate from feverish heat,

* Opera of Calypso and Telemachus.

B 3


Love, in its true, its genuine lustre rise,
And, in Eudocia, bid it charm our eyes.

Virtue distrest, thy happy lines disclose,
With more of triumph than a conqueror knows :
Touch'd by thy hand, our stubborn tempers bend,
And flowing tears the well-wrought scene attend,
That filent eloquence thy power approv'd ; 55
The cause so great, 'twas generous to be mov’d.

What pleasure can the bursting heart poffefs,
In the last parting, and severe distress?
Can fame, wealth, honour, titles, joy bestow,
And make the labouring breast with transport glow? 60
These gaudy trifles gild our morning bright,
But O! how weak their influence on our night!
Then fame, wealth, honour, titles, vainly bloom,
Nor dart one beam of comfort on the gloom;
But if the struggling foul a joy receives,

'Tis in the just applause that conscious virtue gives :
This blameless pride the dying HUGHES poffeft,
Soften’d his pain, sat lightly on his breast,
And sooth'd his unoffending foul to rest.
Free from the bigot's fears, or ftoic's pride, 70
Calin as our Christian hero liv’d, he dy’d.
As on the utmost


of life he stood, Ready to plunge, and seize th' immortal good, Collecting all his rays diffus'd, in one, His * last great work with heighten'd lustre shone ; 75 There his just sentiments, transferr’d, we view'd! But, while our eyes the shining path pursu'd, * Siege of Damascus,




[ocr errors]

And steep ascent his steady judgment gain’d,
The shining path, alas ! alone remain’d.-
So when the fun to worlds unknown retires,

How strong, how boldly shoot his parting fires !
Larger his setting orb our eyes confess,
Eager we gaze, and the full glory bless;
As o'er the heavens, fublime, his course extends,
With equal state, the radiant globe descends,
Sinks in a cloud of gold, and azure bright,
And leaves behind gay tracks of beamy light.




for ourselves the tears profusely flow,
Too juftly we indulge the tender woe,
Since thou in virtue's robes wast richly dreft,
And of fine arts abundantly poffeft!
But if we rather should congratulate
A friend's enlargement and exalted state ;
Resign’d to Providence, what can we less
Than cheerful hail thy long'd-for happiness,
Who now, releas'd from every piercing pain,
Dost in the realms of light triumphant reign!



February, 1719-20.


* Of whom see Dr. Johnson's encomium in the Life of Hughes.

« ПретходнаНастави »