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What awe did the flow solemn knell inspire;
The pealing organ, and the pausing choir
The duties by the lawn-rob’d preiate pay'd;
And the last words, that dust to dust convey'd !
While speechless o’er thy closing grave we bend,
Accept these tears, thou dear departed friend.
Oh, gone for ever ! take this long adieu ;
And Neep in peace, next thy lov'd Montague. -
To strew fresh laurels, let the task be mine,
A frequent pilgrim, at thy facred thrine;
Mine with true fighs thy absence to bemoan,
And
grave

with faithful epitaphs thy stone.
If e'er from me thy lov'd memorial part,
May shame aflict this alienated heart;
Of thee forgetful if I form a song,
My lyre be broken, and untun'd my tongue,
My grief be doubled from thy image free,
And mirth a torment, 'unchastis'd by thee.

Oft let me range the gloomy ailles alone,
Sad luxury! to vulgar minds unknown,
Along the walls where speaking marbles show
What worthies form the hallow'd mould below;
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held;
In arıns who triumph'd; or in arts excell'd;
Chiefs, grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood;
Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood;
Just men, by whom impartial laws were given;
And saints who taught, and led, the way to heaven ;
Ne'er to these chambers, where the mighty rest,
Since their foundation, came a nobler guest;

No

Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss convey'd
A fairer spirit or more welcome shade.

In what new region, to the just assign'd,
What new employments please th' unbody'd mind;
A winged Virtue, through th' ethereal sky,
From world to world unweary'd does he fly?
Or curious trace the long laborious maze
Of heaven's decrees, where wondering angels gaze?
Does he delight to hear bold seraphs tell
How Michael battle'd, and the dragon fell;
Or, mix'd with milder cherubim,. to glow
In hymns of love, not ill eflay'd below ?
Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind,
A task well-suited to thy gentle mind ?
Oh! if sometimes thy spotless form defcend;
To me, thy.aid, thou guardian genius, lend !
When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms,
When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms,
In filent whisperings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill, a frail and feeble heart;
Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before,
Till bliss skall join, nor death can part us more.

That awful form, which, so the heavens decree, Must still be lov'd and still deplor'd by me; In nightly vifions feldom fails to rise, Qr, rous'd by Fancy, meets my waking eyes. If businefs calls, or crouded courts invite ; Th’ unblemish'd statesman seems to strike my fight; If in the stage I seek to footh my care ; I meet his soul which breathes in Cato there;

If pensive to the rural shades I rove;
His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove;
-Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong,
Cleard some great truth, or rais'd some serious song:
There patient show'd us the wise course to steer,
A candid cenfor, and a friend severe ;
There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

Thou hill, whose brow the antique structures graces
Rear'd by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race,
Why, once fo lov’d, when-e'er thy bower appears,
O'er

my dim eye-balls glance the sudden tears !
How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair,
Thy floping walks, and unpolluted air !
How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees,
Thy noon-tide thadow, and thy evening breeze!
His image thy forsaken bowers restore ;
Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more;
No more the summer in thy glooms allay'd,
Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade.

From other ills, however Fortune frown'd;
Some refuge in the Muse's art I found ;
Reluctant now I touch the trembling string,
Bereft of him, who taught me how to sing ;
And these sad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn,
Betray that absence, they attempt to mourn.
0! must I then (now. fresh my bosom bleeds,

And Craggs in death to Addison succeeds)
The verse, begun to one lost friend, prolong,
And weep a second in th’ unfinith'd song!

These

These works divine, which on his death-bed laid To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring sage convey'd, Great, but ill-omen’d monument of fame, Nor he surviv'd to give, nor thou to claim. Swift after him thy social spirit flies, And close to his, how soon! thy coffin lies. Blest pair! whose union future bards shall tell In future tongues : each other's boast! farewel, Farewel! whom, join'd in fame, in friendship try'd, No chance could sever, nor the grave divide.

COLIN AND LUCY.

A BALL A D.

O

F Leinster, fam’d for maidens fair,

Bright Lucy was the grace;
Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream

Reflect so sweet a face :
Till luckless love, and pining care,

Iinpair'd' her rosy hue,
Her coral lips, and damask cheeks,

And eyes of glossy blue.
Oh! have you seen a lily pale,

When beating rains descend ?
So droop'd the flow-consuming maid,

Her life now near its end.
By Lucy warn'd, of Aattering swains

Take heed, ye easy fair :
Of vengeance due to broken vows,

Ye perjur'd swains, beware,

There

Three times, all in the dead of night,

A bell was heard to ring;
And Trieking at her window thrice,

The raven Aap'd his wing.
Too well the love-loro maiden knew

The folemn boding sound :
And thus, in dying words, bespoke

The virgins weeping round :

: 66 I hear a voice, you cannot hear,

" Which says, I must not stay ; 66 I see a hand, you cannot fee,

“ Which beckons me away. 6. By a false heart, and broken vows,

“ In early-youth I die : " Was I to blame, because his bride

" Was thrice as rich -as I?

" Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows,

Vows due to me alone : « Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,

“ Nor think him all thy own. “ To-morrow, in the church to wed,

“ Impatient, both prepare ! “ But know, fond maid ; and know, false man,

" That Lucy will be there ! “ Then bear my corse, my comrades, bear,

«. This bridegroom blithe to meet, “ He in his wedding-trim so gay, “ I in my winding-sheet.".

She

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