O! in that thought, my sensible of joy
Sinks in my breast, and ere it warms, expires.
Nor yet the Tuscan splendours of thy walls,
Where all of elegance and art unite
To charm the eye, that vanish'd sense recalls;-
No, not one spark of its extinguish❜d light!
But when I see thee, Friend, thus high upraised Above pale Envy's reach, on Fortune's shrine, And when my eyes have on those blessings gazed Which for thy heart the wreaths of comfort twine ;
When all her soften'd emanations live
In the consoling sweetness of thy smiles,
Then from thy joys my joyless hours receive
Reflected peace, that transiently beguiles;
Beguiles to sweet forgetfulness the grief,
That dim in deprivation shrouds my heart;
Mine, while life still is mine, be that relief
A Friend's dear bliss now only can impart.
Long be thy gentle consort the mild light,
Shedding content o'er all thy waning days!
And may they stretch with long protracted flight,
And bear to Heaven thy grateful pious praise!
And may Distemper's mist from thee and thine,
Thy lovely FRANCES, and thy faithful wife,
Fly, like the rain when Summer mornings shine,
Nor stain with one pale cloud thy eve of life!
EDWY, farewell! to Lichfield's darken'd grove,
With aching heart, and rising sighs, I go,
Yet bear a grateful spirit as I rove
For all of thine which balm'd a cureless woe.
WHEN life is hurried to untimely close
In the years of crystal eyes and burnish'd hair,
Dire are the thoughts of death;-eternal parting
From all the precious soul's yet known delights,
All she had clung to here;-from youth and hope,
And the year's blossom'd April ;-bounding strengtlı,
Which had out-leap'd the roes, when morning suns
Yellowed their forest-glade ;-from reaper's shout
And cheerful swarm of populous towns;-from Time,
Which tells of joys forepast, and promises
The dear return of seasons, and the bliss
Crowning a fruitful marriage ;—from the stores
Of well-engrafted knowledge;-from all utterance,
Since, in the silent grave, no talk !—no music!
No gay surprise, by unexpected good,
Social, or individual!-no glad step
Of welcome friend, with more intenseness listen'd
Than warbled melody!-no father's council!
No mother's smile!-no lover's whisper'd vow!—
There nothing breathes save the insatiate worm,
And nothing is but the drear altering corse,
Resolving silently to shapeless dust
In unpierc'd darkness and in blank oblivion.
Or gentle manners, and enlighten'd mind,
Wert thou, Albinia, in thy youth's soft prime,
When thrice 'twas ours, in converse free and kind,
Short space to gild of swiftly-passing time.
And with thy brother, to whose cultured youth The classic Fanes their radiant stores display'd, While warmth of heart, genius, and manly truth, Then, as through life, his ardent spirit sway'd.
1. 5. Thy brother-Mr Mathias.
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