Part 5 (1/2)

”Resign her, Nereid,” 'twas thy G.o.d's command.

Thy spouse late buried, as thy fears conceiv'd, Again returns, thy fears are all reliev'd: Thy daughter blooming with superior grace Again thou see'st, again thine arms embrace; O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir, And what the blessings of maternal care!

To a LADY and her Children, on the Death of her Son and their Brother.

O'ERWHELMING sorrow now demands my song: From death the overwhelming sorrow sprung.

What flowing tears? What hearts with grief opprest?

What sighs on sighs heave the fond parent's breast?

The brother weeps, the hapless sisters join Th' increasing woe, and swell the crystal brine; The poor, who once his gen'rous bounty fed, Droop, and bewail their benefactor dead.

In death the friend, the kind companion lies, And in one death what various comfort dies!

Th' unhappy mother sees the sanguine rill Forget to flow, and nature's wheels stand still, But see from earth his spirit far remov'd, And know no grief recals your best-belov'd: He, upon pinions swifter than the wind, Has left mortality's sad scenes behind For joys to this terrestial state unknown, And glories richer than the monarch's crown.

Of virtue's steady course the prize behold!

What blissful wonders to his mind unfold!

But of celestial joys I sing in vain: Attempt not, muse, the too advent'rous strain.

No more in briny show'rs, ye friends around, Or bathe his clay, or waste them on the ground: Still do you weep, still wish for his return?

How cruel thus to wish, and thus to mourn?

No more for him the streams of sorrow pour, But haste to join him on the heav'nly sh.o.r.e, On harps of gold to tune immortal lays, And to your G.o.d immortal anthems raise.

To a GENTLEMAN and LADY on the Death of the Lady's Brother and Sister, and a Child of the Name of Avis, aged one Year.

ON Death's domain intent I fix my eyes, Where human nature in vast ruin lies: With pensive mind I search the drear abode, Where the great conqu'ror has his spoils bestow'd; There there the offspring of six thousand years In endless numbers to my view appears: Whole kingdoms in his gloomy den are thrust, And nations mix with their primeval dust: Insatiate still he gluts the ample tomb; His is the present, his the age to come.

See here a brother, here a sister spread, And a sweet daughter mingled with the dead.

But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside, And let the fountain of your tears be dry'd, In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain, Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain, Your pains they witness, but they can no more, While Death reigns tyrant o'er this mortal sh.o.r.e.

The glowing stars and silver queen of light At last must perish in the gloom of night: Resign thy friends to that Almighty hand, Which gave them life, and bow to his command; Thine Avis give without a murm'ring heart, Though half thy soul be fated to depart.

To s.h.i.+ning guards consign thine infant care To waft triumphant through the seas of air: Her soul enlarg'd to heav'nly pleasure springs, She feeds on truth and uncreated things.

Methinks I hear her in the realms above, And leaning forward with a filial love, Invite you there to share immortal bliss Unknown, untasted in a state like this.

With tow'ring hopes, and growing grace arise, And seek beat.i.tude beyond the skies.

On the Death of Dr. SAMUEL MARSHALL. 1771.

THROUGH thickest glooms look back, immortal shade, On that confusion which thy death has made: Or from Olympus' height look down, and see A Town involv'd in grief bereft of thee.

Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead, And rends the graceful tresses from her head, Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest Sigh follows sigh deep heaving from her breast.

Too quickly fled, ah! whither art thou gone?

Ah! lost for ever to thy wife and son!

The hapless child, thine only hope and heir, Clings round his mother's neck, and weeps his sorrows there.

The loss of thee on Tyler's soul returns, And Boston for her dear physician mourns.

When sickness call'd for Marshall's healing hand, With what compa.s.sion did his soul expand?

In him we found the father and the friend: In life how lov'd! how honour'd in his end!

And must not then our AEsculapius stay To bring his ling'ring infant into day?

The babe unborn in the dark womb is tost, And seems in anguish for its father lost.

Gone is Apollo from his house of earth, But leaves the sweet memorials of his worth: The common parent, whom we all deplore, From yonder world unseen must come no more, Yet 'midst our woes immortal hopes attend The spouse, the sire, the universal friend.

To a GENTLEMAN on his Voyage to Great-Britain for the Recovery of his Health.