WHILE, with the public, you, my Lord, lament
A friend and father loft; permit the Mufe,
The Mufe affign'd of old a double theme,
To praise dead worth and humble living pride,
Whofe gen'rous task begins where int'reft ends,
Permit her on a TALBOT's tomb to lay
This cordial verfe fincere, by truth infpir'd,
Which means not to bestow but borrow fame.
Yes, fhe may fing his matchlefs virtues now-
Unhappy that she may.But where begin?
How from the di'mond single out each ray,
Where all, tho' trembling with ten thousand hues,
Effufe one dazzling undivided light?
Let the low-minded of these narrow days
No more prefume to deem the lofty tale
Of ancient times, in pity to their own,
In TALBOT we united faw
The piercing eye, the quick enlighten'd fou!,
The graceful eafe, the flowing tongue of Greece,
Join'd to the virtues and the force of Rome.
ETERNAL WISDOM, that all-quick'ning fun,
Whence ev'ry life, in just proportion, draws
Directing light and actuating flame,
Ne'er with a larger portion of its beams
Awaken'd mortal clay. Hence steady, calm,
Diffufive, deep, and clear, his reafon faw,
With inftantaneous view, the truth of things;
Chief what to human life and human blifs
Pertains, that noblest science, fit for man:
And hence, refponfive to his knowledge, glow'd 30
His ardent virtue. Ignorance and vice,
In confort foul, agree; each height'ning each;
While virtue draws from knowledge brighter fire.
What grand, what comely, or what tender sense,
What talent, or what virtue was not his;
What that can render man or great, or good,
Give ufeful worth, or amiable grace?
Nor could he brook in studious fhade to lie,
In foft retirement, indolently pleas'd
With felfish peace. The Syren of the wife,
(Who fteals th' Aonian fong, and, in the fhape
Of virtue, wooes them from a worthless world),
Tho' deep he felt her charms, could never melt
His ftrenuous fpirit, recollected, calm,
As filent night, yet active as the day.
The more the bold, the bustling, and the bad,
Prefs to ufurp the reins of pow'r, the more
Behoves it virtue, with indignant zeal,
To check their combination. Shall low views
Of fneaking int'rest or luxurious vice,
The villain's paffions, quicken more to toil,
And dart a livelier vigour thro' the foul,
Than those that, mingled with our truest good,
With present honour and immortal fame,
Involve the good of all? An empty form
Is the weak virtue, that amid the shade
Lamenting lies, with future fchemes amus'd,
While Wickednefs and Folly, kindred pow'rs,
Confound the world. A TALBOT's, diff'rent far,
Sprung ardent into action: action, that difdain'd 60
To lofe in death-like floth one pulse of life,
That might be fav'd; difdain'd for coward eafe,
And her infipid pleasures, to refign
The prize of glory, the keen sweets of toil,
And those high joys that teach the truly great
To live for others, and for others die.
Early, behold! he breaks benign on life.
Not breathing more beneficence, the spring
Leads in her swelling train the gentle airs:
While gay, behind her, smiles the kindling waste
Of ruffian ftorms and winter's lawless rage.
In him Aftrea, to this dim abode
Of ever-wand'ring men, return'd again:
To bless them his delight, to bring them back,
From thorny error, from unjoyous wrong,
Into the paths of kind primeval faith,
Of happiness and juftice. All his parts,
His virtues all, collected, fought the good
|