He lives in thofe he left ;-to what?

Your, now, paternal care,

Clear from its cloud your brighten'd eye,

It will difcern him there;

In features, not of form alone,
But thofe, I trust, of mind;
Aufpicious to the public weal,
And to their fate refign'd.

Think on the tempefts he sustain'd;
Revolve his battles won ;
And let thofe prophefy your joy
From fuch a father's fon :

Is confolation what you seek?
Fan, then, his martial fire:
And animate to flame the sparks
Bequeath'd him by his fire:

-As nothing great is born in hafte,
Wife nature's time allow;
His father's laurels may descend,
And flourish on his brow.

Nor, Madam! be furpriz'd to hear
That laurels may be due
Not more to heroes of the field,
(Proud boafters !) than to you:

Tender as is the female frame,

Like that brave man you mourn, You are a foldier, and to fight Superior battles born;

I

Bencath

Beneath a banner nobler far

Than ever was unfurl'd

In fields of blood; a banner bright!
High-wav'd o'er all the world.
It, like a streaming meteor, cafts
An univerfal light;

Sheds day, sheds more, eternal day
On nations whelm'd in night.

Beneath that banner, what exploit
Can mount our glory higher,
Than to fuftain the dreadful blow,
When those we love expire?
Go forth a moral Amazon;
Arm'd with undaunted thought;
The battle won, though cofting dear
You'll think it cheaply bought :

The paffive hero, who fits down
Unactive, and can smile
Beneath affliction's galling load,

Out-acts a Cæfar's toil:

The billows ftain'd by flaughter'd foes

Inferior praise afford;

Reafon 's a bloodless conqueror,

More glorious than the sword.

Nor can the thunder of huzzas

From shouting nations, cause

Such sweet delight, as from your heart
Soft whispers of applause:

The dear deceas'd fo fam'd in arms,
With what delight he 'll view
His triumphs on the main outdone,
Thus conquer'd, twice, by you.

Share his delight; take heed to shun
Of bofoms most difeas'd

That odd distemper, an abfurd
Reluctance to be pleas'd:

Some feem in love with forrow's charms,

And that foul fiend embrace : This temper let me juftly brand, And ftamp it with disgrace : Sorrow! of horrid parentage!

Thou fecond-born of hell!

Against heaven's endless mercies pour'd
How dar'ft thou to rebel?

From black and noxious vapours bred,
And nurs'd by want of thought,
And to the door of frenzy's felf
By perfeverance brought,

Thy moft inglorious, coward tears
From brutal eyes have ran;
Smiles, incommunicable fmiles!
Are radiant marks of man;

They caft a fudden glory round

Th' illumin'd human face; And light in fons of honeft joy

Some beams of Mofes' face:

Is refignation's leffon hard?

Examine, we shall find

That duty gives up little more

Than anguish of the mind;

Refign; and all the load of life
That moment you remove,
Its heavy tax, ten thousand cares
Devolve on one above;

Who bids us lay our burthen down

On his almighty hand, Softens our duty to relief,

To bleffing a command.

For joy what caufe? how

every fenfe

1

Is courted from above
The year around, with prefents rich,
The growth of endless love?

But most o'erlook the bleffings pour'd,
Forget the wonders done,

And terminate, wrapp'd up in sense,
Their profpect at the fun;

From that, their final point of view,'.

From that their radiant goal,

On travel infinite of thought,

Sets out the nobler foul,

Broke loofe from time's tenacious ties,

And earth's involving gloom,

To range at large its vaft domain,
And talk with worlds to come:

They let unmark'd, and unemploy'd,
Life's idle moments run;

And, doing nothing for themfelves,
Imagine nothing done;

Fatal mistake! their fate goes on,
Their dread account proceeds,
And their not-doing is fet down
Amongst their darkest deeds;

Though man fits still, and takes his ease,
God is at work on man;

No means, no moment unemploy'd,
To bless him, if he can.

But man confents not, boldly bent
To fashion his own fate;
Man, a mere bungler in the trade,
Repents his crime too late;

Hence loud laments: let me thy cause,

Indulgent Father! plead;

Of all the wretches we deplore,

Not one by thee was made.

What is thy whole creation fair?
Of love divine the child;

Love brought it forth; and from its birth,
Has o'er it fondly smil'd :

Now, and through periods' diftant far,

Long ere the world began,

Heaven is, and has in travel been,

Its birth the good of man;

Man