Grows mad in grief, and in her savage hours
Affronts the name she loves and she adores.

She is thy votaress too; and at thy shrine,
Osacred Friendship, offer'd songs divine,

While Gunston liv'd, and both our souls were thine.
Here to these shades at solemn hours we came,

To pay devotion with a mutual flame,
Partners in bliss. Sweet luxury of the mind,
And sweet the aids of sense! Each ruder wind
Slept in its caverns, while an evening breeze
Fann'd the leaves gently, sporting thro' the trees;
The linnet and the lark their vespers sung,
And clouds of crimson o'er the horizon hung;
The slow declining sun, with sloping wheels,
Sunk down the golden day behind the western hills.

Mourn, ye young gardens, ye unfinish'd gates, Ye green inclosures, and ye growing sweets! Lament, for ye our midnight hours have known, And watch'd us walking by the silent moon, In conference divine, while heavenly fire. Kindling our breasts did all our thoughts inspire With joys almost immortal: then our zeal Blaz'd and burnt high to reach the ethereal hill, And love refin'd, like that above the poles, Threw both our arms round one another's souls In rapture and embraces. Oh forbear, Forbear, my song! this is too much to hear, Too dreadful to repeat; such joys as these Fled from the earth for ever!....

Oh for a general grief! let all things share Our woes that knew our loves: the neighbouring

air,

Let it be laden with immortal sighs,

And tell the gales, that every breath that flies
Over these fields should murmur and complain,
And kiss the fading grass, and propagate the pain.
Weep all ye buildings, and the groves around
For ever weep: this is an endless wound,
Vast and incurable. Ye buildings knew
His silver tongue, ye groves have heard it too:
At that dear sound no more shall ye rejoice,
And I no more must hear the charming voice.
Woe to my drooping soul! that heavenly breath
That could speak life, lies now congeal'd in death,
While on his folded lips, all cold and pale,

Eternal chains and heavy silence dwell.

Yet my fond hope would hear him speak again, Once more at least, one gentle word; and then Gunston aloud I call. In vain I cry

Gunston aloud; for he must ne'er reply.
In vain I mourn, and drop these funeral tears;
Death and the grave have neither eyes nor ears:
Wandering I tune my sorrows to the groves,
And vent my swelling griefs, and tell the winds
our loves,

While the dear youth sleeps fast and hears them

not.

He hath forgot me. In the lonesom vault,

Mindless of Watts and friendship, cold he lies, Deaf and unthinking clay ....

But whither am I led? This artless grief Hurries the Muse on, obstinate and deaf To all the nicer rules, and bears her down From the tall fabric to the neighbouring ground. The pleasing hours, the happy moments past In these sweet fields, reviving on my taste, Snatch me away, resistless, with impetuous haste. Spread thy strong pinions once again, my song, And reach the turret thou hast left so long: O'er the wide roofs its lofty head it rears, Long waiting our converse, but only hears The noisy tumults of the realms on high. The winds salute it whistling as they fly, Or jarring round the windows; rattling showers Lash the fair sides; above, loud thunder roars : But still the master sleeps; nor hears the voice Of sacred friendship, nor the tempest's noise; An iron slumber sits on every sense,

In vain the heavenly thunders strive to rouse it thence.

One labour more, my Muse, the golden sphere Seems to demand. See through the dusky air Downward it shines upon the rising moon; And as she labours up to reach her noon, Pursues her orb with repercussive light,

And streaming gold repays the paler beams of night:

But not one ray can reach the darksom grave, Or pierce the solid gloom that fills the cave Where Gunston dwells in death. Behold, it flames Like some new meteor, with diffusive beams, Through the mid-heaven, and overcomes the stars: "So shines thy Gunston's soul above the spheres," Raphael replies, and wipes away my tears. "We saw the flesh sink down with closing eyes "We heard thy grief shriek out, he dies! he dies! "Mistaken grief, to call the flesh the friend! "On our fair wings did the bright youth ascend; "All heaven embrac'd him with immortal love "And sung his welcome to the courts above. "Gentle Ithuriel led him round the skies: "The buildings struck him with immense surprise; "The spires all radiant, and the mansions bright, "The roof high-vaulted with ethereal light:

66

Beauty and strength on the tall bulwarks sat, "In heavenly diamond; and for every gate, "On golden hinges a broad ruby turns, "Guards off the foe, and as it moves it burns. "Millions of glories reign through every part: "Infinite power, and uncreated art,

"Stand here display'd, and to the stranger show "How it outshines the noblest seats below.

४

The stranger fed his gazing powers awhile "Transported: then, with a regardless smile, "Glanc'd his eyes downward thro' the crystal floor, And took eternal leave of what he built be

fore."

Now, fair Urania, leave the doleful strain; Raphael commands; assume thy joys again. In everlasting numbers sing, and say,

"Gunston has mov'd his dwelling to the realms of day;

"Gunston the friend lives still; and give thy groans away."

AN ELEGY ON MR. THOMAS GOUGE.

TO MR. ARTHUR SHALLET, MERCHANT.

WORTHY SIR.

The subject of the following elegy was high in your esteem, and enjoyed a large share of your affections. Scarce doth his memory need the assistance of the Muse to make it perpetual; but when she can at once pay her honours to the venerable dead, and by this address acknowledge the favours she has received from the living, it is a double pleasure to, Sir, your obliged humble servant, I. WATTS.

TO THE MEMORY OF

THE REV. MR. THOMAS GOUGE,

WHO DIED JAN. 8, 1699-1700.

YE virgin souls, whose sweet complaint
Could teach Euphrates1 not to flow,
Could Sion's ruin so divinely paint,

1 Psal. cxxxvii. Lament. i. 2, &