SUCH were the Lines:-fuch Majefty and Grace
Chofe to erect their Throne in NELSON's Face:
Where'er that pleafing Form did once appear,
The World confefs'd-the Chriftian Hero's here.
Shall then fo bright a Name forgotten lie!
Tomb'd with his Duft fhall his Remembrance die?
His kindred Saints, with juft and pious Care
To After-ages he recorded fair:
Let NELSON now himself adorn the Calendar.
ONCE in an Age Heav'n such a Pattern lends,
Its Foes to filence, and fupport its Friends.
What Virtue did his fhining Worth compleat?
Gen'rous, not Proud; without Ambition Great:
To others mild, as to himself fevere:
Polish'd, tho' learn'd; Obliging, yet fincere;
Juftly with Admiration feen and read;
For all muft own the Chriftian was well-bred.
His Goodness fuch, as if no native Taint
Had reach'd his Soul; as he were born a Saint:
Diffusing round an unaffected Smile,
Calm as his Speech, and even as his Style:
His Style, as Logic clofe, and fweet as Song;
Tho' fhort, yet full; tho' plain and eafy, ftrong.
The Writer moft, but all the Man efteem:
For few could write, and fewer live like him.
Unftain'd his Youth by Criminal Defire,
Nor glow'd his Breaft with ought but heav'nly Fire,
What Manly Strength, with flowing Sweetnefs join’d, Adorn'd at once his Works, and Face, and Mind P How wide did his Beneficence extend!
Above the Meannefs of a private End;
The fairest Judge, and the best natur'd Friend.
What Candor, NELSON, did thy Life adorn!
How large thy Soul!-Thou for the World wert born
Old Albion's Cliffs, with rugged Cambria's Wild,
And fierce Ierne, heard thy Name and smil'd:
Thy Name the tawny Malabar has known,
Beyond the wide Atlantic Gulf 'tis flown.
Nor ought fo mean as Gold thy Cares employ'd,
Nor fordid Pelf, deftructive while enjoy'd;
But that for which thy LoRD a Ranfom gave,
Which coft the precious Blood of GOD to fave.
Exalted Worth, like thine, Applaufe commands,
From warring Factions and contending Lands:
The Romish Schifm and ours in this agree,
And wonder at each other's Charity.
No narrow Party NELSON'S Love confin'd,
But, like the Sun, it fhone on all Mankind ;
The Cottage and the Palace blefs'd his Rays,
Ador'd the Maker, and the Work did praife.
IN Words that match'd his Senfe, fublime and neat, He taught the Noble to be truly Great :
To emulate alone in Virtue's Strife,
And fcorn the Trappings and the Gauds of Life:
To know 'tis more, far more of true Renown,
Ourfelves to conquer than to ftorm a Town.
The Men of Letters might from NELSON learn,
What always not the greateft Clerks difcern;
Truth and fair Manners too (at once) retain,
Nor firive unlawfully, nor ftrive in vain.
His well-weigh'd Judgment could avoid Extremes
Of formal Seemings, and Enthufiaft Dreams.
Who made the compound Man, demands him whole,
Not thoughtless Matter, or unbody'd Soul+
His Inftitutions are for both defign'd,
To rule the Body, and to raise the Mind:
For both did NELSON'S Pen and Life contend,
Nor careless of the Way, nor mindlefs of the End.
His Stations fix'd, as the returning Year:
Yet nought to fee of haughty or fevere:
No Pharifuic Gloom did e'er difgrace
GOD's Image well exprefs'd in NELSON's Face.
The four Judean Youths did thus appear,
Who homely Pulfe preferr'd to Regal fare.
Thus Mofes, when for forty Days he trod
The Heights of Sinai, and convers'd with God.
What Glories then, too pow'rful to be borne,
What doubl'd Splendor did his Heav'nly Face adorn?
But milder Luftre we in NELSON fee,
Rebated by his Veil of Modefty;
Yet ftill renew'd :- -As foon the Sun to fet,
As he his Lands and Vefpers could forget.
He oft, when Night with holy Hymns was worn,
Prevented Prime, and wak'd the rifing Morn:
Nor needed the Carthufian's Matin Bell,
Which drags the drowfy Hermit from his Cell.
Unforc'd by Vows, his pure Devotions rife,
And voluntary flow, like Streams in Paradife.
* This I perfonally know to be true, He fung Bishop KENN's Hyinna.
With Praise he made the Sabbath yet more blefs'd,
The Means and Emblem of Eternal Reft.
Taught how to take the mystic Bread and Wine,
T'adore the Subftance, nor negle&t the Sign;
Nor those defpife, to whom Commiffion's giv'n,
Thro' all the World, to deal the Dole of Heav'n.
Tho' fome their Pastors Lives with Rigour fcan,
And prize the Office as they like the Man;
What shining Virtues in the Priest appear,
Their gracious Condefcenfion may revere;
But if a Judas Heav'nly Tidings tells,
Their Hate of Sin preserves them Infidels.
NELSON more wife, their empty Scoffs difdain'd,
Since Weakness makes not the Commission feign'd,
A juft Refpect could for the Office find,
(Yet deep his Learning, yet enlarg'd his Mind)
Nor paid implicit Faith, nor fhew'd Obedience blind.
HE fhew'd that Warmth and Strength might well agree,
In fober, ftrong, affecting Piety.
Nor e'er fhould Reafon and Devotion part,
The coolest Head fuits beft the warmeft Heart.
Yet Champion for the Faith, he wifely knew
How small a Profpect terminates our View :
That Infinite no Finite comprehends,
That here our Faith begins, and Reason ends.
He ftrove for Truth, nor fought, yet gain'd Applaufe;
His Candour Praife, if not Conviction, draws,
Far as a Mortal can, deferving of his Caufe.
For Zeal and Moderation well agree,
And conftant Firmnefs hurts not Charity.
He oft the Way has to thofe Wand'rers fhown,
Who Reafon idolize; but 'tis their own:
Who measure Faith by Mathematic Line;
By Human Wisdom would correct Divine:
At all their empty Vauntings undismay'd,
Their Schemes he in the Sacred Balance weigh'd:
The Scale Aew up, their Proofs than Air more light,
Triumph'd the Faith, and Error fled to endless Night.
With pious Zeal the frozen World he warm'd;
And thus against each fly Seducer arm'd;
"Shall Truth for long Poffeffion lefs be priz'd
"Because, 'tis Venerable, be despis'd
"What is Eternal, never can decay ;
""Tis still in Bloom, while Ages roll away:
"Falfhood, like Vice, is wither'd while 'tis new,
"Not all its Paint can hide its odious Hue.
"Beware the Hag, beware that Syren Face!
"Death's in her Smiles, and Hell in her Embrace."
Nor was his Soul of fo confin'd a View,
As what was Good to flight, becaufe 'tis new.
Nothing was e'er of Public Ufe propos'd,
But with the Project NELSON warmly clos'd;
Turn'd, and improv'd, and brought at last to bear,
Supported by his Bounty and his Care.
He ne'er unaided could his SAVIOUR fee
By Sickness prefs'd, or Chains, or Penury.
All Shapes of Woe his gen'rous Pity mov'd,
His Maker's Face he faw, and feeing lov'd.
Yet farther Love his Piety has shewn,
Not to the Body's Wants confin'd alone;
Inftructing all to place their Hopes on high,
Refign'd to Live, and innocent to Die.
'Tis kind to heal the Wounds th' Afflicted feels,
Tis kinder ftill preventing future Ills.
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