What awe did the flow folemn knell inspire;
The pealing organ, and the paufing 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 clofing grave we bend,
Accept thefe tears, thou dear departed friend.
Oh, gone for ever! take this long adieu;
And fleep in peace, next thy lov'd Montague. -
To ftrew fresh laurels, let the task be mine,
A frequent pilgrim, at thy facred shrine;
Mine with true fighs thy abfence to bemoan,
And grave with faithful epitaphs thy stone.
If e'er from me thy lov'd memorial part,
May shame afflict 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, unchaftis'd by thee.
Oft let me range the gloomy aifles alone,
Sad luxury! to vulgar minds unknown,
Along the walls where speaking marbles fhow
What worthies form the hallow'd mould below;
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held;
In arms who triumph'd; or in arts excell'd;
Chiefs, grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood;
Stern patriots, who for facred freedom ftood;
Just men, by whom impartial laws were given;
And faints who taught, and led, the way to heaven ;,
Ne'er to these chambers, where the mighty reft,
Since their foundation, came a nobler guest;

No

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

In what new region, to the just affign'd,
What new employments please th' unbody'd mind;
A winged Virtue, through th' ethereal fky,
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 feraphs tell How Michael battle'd, and the dragon fell; Or, mix'd with milder cherubim, to glow In hymns of love, not ill effay'd below? Or doft thou warn poor mortals left behind, A task well-fuited to thy gentle mind? Oh! if sometimes thy fpotlefs form defcend; To me, thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend! When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms, When pain diftreffes, 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 blifs fhall join, nor death can part us more.

That awful form, which, fo the heavens decree,
Muft ftill be lov'd and still deplor'd by me;
In nightly vifions feldom fails to rife,

Qr, rous'd by Fancy, meets my waking eyes.
If bufinefs calls, or crouded courts invite;
Th' unblemish'd statesman seems to ftrike my fight;
If in the ftage I feek to footh my care;

I meet his foul which breathes in Cato there ;

If penfive to the rural shades I rove;

His fhape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove;
-Twas there of just and good he reafon'd strong,
Clear'd fome great truth, or rais'd fome serious fong:"
There patient fhow'd us the wife 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 ftructures grace,
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 fudden tears!
How fweet were once thy profpects fresh and fair,
Thy floping walks, and unpolluted air!
How fweet 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 fummer in thy glooms allay'd,
Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade.
From other ills, however Fortune frown'd;
Some refuge in the Mufe's art I found;
Reluctant now I touch the trembling string,
Bereft of him, who taught me how to fing;
And these fad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn,
Betray that abfence, they attempt to mourn.
O! muft I then (now fresh my bosom bleeds,
And Craggs in death to Addison fucceeds)
The verfe, begun to one loft friend, prolong,
And weep a fecond in th' unfinish'd fong!

Thefe

Thefe works divine, which on his death-bed laid To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring fage convey'd, Great, but ill-omen'd monument of fame, Nor he furviv'd to give, nor thou to claim. Swift after him thy focial fpirit flies, And close to his, how foon! thy coffin lies. Bleft pair! whofe union future bards shall tell In future tongues: each other's boaft! farewel, Farewel! whom, join'd in fame, in friendship try'd, No chance could fever, nor the grave divide.

COLIN AND LUCY.

OF

A BALLA D.

F Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair,
Bright Lucy was the grace;

Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream
Reflect fo fweet a face :

Till luckless love, and pining care,

Impair'd her rofy hue,

Her coral lips, and damask cheeks,
And eyes of gloffy blue.

Oh! have you seen a lily pale,
When beating rains descend?
So droop'd the flow-confuming maid,
Her life now near its end.

By Lucy warn'd, of flattering fwains
Take heed, ye eafy fair:

Of vengeance due to broken vows,
Ye perjur'd fwains, beware,

There

Three times, all in the dead of night,
A bell was heard to ring;

And shrieking at her window thrice,
The raven flap'd his wing.

Too well the love-lora maiden knew
The folemn boding found:
And thus, in dying words, befpoke
The virgins weeping round:

*." I hear a voice, you cannot hear,
"Which fays, I must not stay ;
"I fee a hand, you cannot fee,
"Which beckons me away.
"By a falfe 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 kifs, "Nor think him all thy own.

"To-morrow, in the church to wed,

"Impatient, both prepare!

"But know, fond maid; and know, falfe man, That Lucy will be there!

"Then bear my corfe, my comrades, bear, "This bridegroom blithe to meet,

"He in his wedding-trim so gay,

"I in my winding-sheet."

She