With memory converfing, you will pour,
As on the pebbled fhore you, penfive, ftray,
Where Derry's mountains a bleak crefcent form,
And mid their ample round receive the waves,
That from the frozen pole, refounding, rufh,
Impetuous. Tho' from native fun-fhine driv'n,
Driv'n from your friends, the fun-fhine of the foul,
By fland'rous zeal, and politics infirm,
Jealous of worth; yet will you bless your lot,
Yet will you triumph in your glorious fate,
Whence Talbot's friendship glows to future times,
Intrepid, warm; of kindred tempers born;
Nurs'd, by experience, into flow esteem,
Calm confidence unbounded, love not blind,
And the sweet light from mingled minds disclos'd, 245
From mingled chymic oils as bursts the fire.
I too remember well that cheerful bowl,
Which round his table flow'd. The ferious there
Mix'd with the sportive, with the learn'd the plain;
Mirth foften'd wisdom, candour temper'd mirth; 250
And wit its honey lent, without the fting.
Not fimple nature's unaffected fons,
The blameless Indians, round their foreft-cheer,
In funny lawn or fhady covert fet,
Hold more unfpotted converse: nor, of old,
Rome's awful confuls, her dictator-fwains,
As on the product of their Sabine farms
They far'd, with stricter virtue fed the foul:
Nor
yet
in Athens, at an Attic meal,
Where Socrates prefided, fairer truth,
More elegant humanity, more grace,
Wit more refin'd, or deepér science reign'd.
But far beyond the little vulgar bounds
Of family, or friends, or native land,
By juft degrees, and with proportion'd flame,
Extended his benevolence: a friend
To human-kind, to parent Nature's works.
Of free accefs, and of engaging grace,
Such as a brother to a brother owes,
He kept an open judging ear for all,
And spread an open countenance, where fmil'd
The fair effulgence of an open heart;
While on the rich, the poor, the high, the low,
With equal ray, his ready goodness shone :
For nothing human foreign was to him.
Thus to a dread inheritance, my Lord,
And hard to be fupported, you fucceed:
But, kept by virtue, as by virtue gain'd,
It will, thro' latest time, enrich your race,
When groffer wealth fhall moulder into dust,
And with their authors in oblivion funk
Vain titles lic, the fervile badges oft
Of mean fubmiffion, not the meed of worth.
True genuine honour its large patent holds
Of all mankind, thro' ev'ry land and age,
Of univerfal Reafon's various fons,
And ev❜n of God himself, fole perfect Judge!
Yet know these nobleft honours of the mind
On rigid terms defcend: the high-plac'd heir, Scann'd by the public eye, that, with keen gaze, 290 Malignant feeks out faults, cannot thro' life,
Amid the nameless infects of a court,
Unheeded fteal: but, with his fire compar'd,
He must be glorious, or he must be scorn'd.
This truth to you, who merit well to bear
A name to Britons dear, th' officious Mufe
May fafely fing, and fing without referve.
Vain were the plaint, and ignorant the tear
That should a Talbot mourn.
Our country robb'd of her delight and ftrength, 300
We may lament. Yet let us, grateful, joy,
That we fuch virtues knew, fuch virtues felt,
And feel them ftill, teaching our views to rife
Thro' ever-bright'ning scenes of future worlds.
Be dumb, ye worst of zealots! ye that, prone
To thoughtless duft, renounce that gen'rous hope,
Whence ev'ry joy below its spirit draws,
And ev'ry pain its balm: a Talbot's light,
A Talbot's virtues claim another fource,
Than the blind maze of undefigning blood;
Nor when that vital fountain plays no more,
Can they be quench'd amid the gelid stream.
Methinks I fee his mounting spirit, freed
From tangling earth, regain the realms of day,
Its native country, whence, to bless mankind,
Eternal Goodness, on this darksome spot,
Had ray'd it down a while. Behold! approv'd
By the tremendous Judge of heav'n and earth,
And to th' Almighty Father's presence join'd,
He takes his rank, in glory, and in blifs,
Amid the human worthies.. Glad around.
Croud his compatriot fhades, and point him out,
With joyful pride, Britannia's blameless boast.
Ah! who is he, that with a fonder eye
Meets thine enraptur'd?—'Tis the best of sons !
The beft of friends!-Too foon is realiz'd
That hope, which once forbad thy tears to flow!
Mean-while the kindred fouls of ev'ry land,
(Howe'er divided in the fretful days
Of prejudice and error), mingled now,
In one felected never-jarring ftate,
Where God himself their only monarch reigns,
Partake the joy; yet, fuch the sense that still
Remains of earthly woes, for us below,
And for our lofs, they drop a pitying tear.
But ceafe, prefumptuous Mufe, nor vainly strive
To quit this cloudy fphere that binds thee down:
'Tis not for mortal hand to trace thefe fcenes,
Scenes, that our grofs ideas grov❜ling caft
Behind, and ftrike our boldeft language dumb.
Forgive, immortal fhade! if aught from earth,
From duft low-warbled, to thofe groves can rise,
Where flows celeftial harmony, forgive
This fond fuperfluous verfe. With deep-felt voice,
On ev'ry heart imprefs'd, thy deeds themselves
Atteft thy praise. Thy praise the widow's fighs,
And orphan's tears embalm. The good, the bad,
The fons of justice and the fons of ftrife,
All who or freedom or who int'reft prize,
A deep-divided nation's parties all,
Confpire to fwell thy fpotlefs praise to heav'n.
Glad heay'n receives it, and feraphic lyres
With fongs of triumph thy arrival hail.
How vain this tribute then! this lowly lay!
Yet nought is vain which gratitude inspires.
The Mufe, befides, her duty thus approves
To virtue, to her country, to mankind,
To ruling Nature, that, in glorious charge,
As to her priestess, gives it her, to hymn
Whatever good and excellent she forms.
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