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Where now that glowing mind, those raptured lays,.
Nor o'er the son alone your sorrows shed!
Thus shall a gleam of joy at times succeed,
And check the progress of the bursting sigh!
Say that, to titles born, he knew no pride;
No vice he knew, his breast was Virtue's throne! Beloved, adored, by all the world beside,
He was unconscious of his worth alone!
Folly for him spread all her lures in vain,
In vain, with ev'ry art, she strove to please!
Say that, if innate purity of mind,
Pity to feel, and charity to save;
Could charm the ruthless bosom of the Grave;
He still had lived to cheer a parent's heart,—
This Fate forbad, and snatched him from our eyes, She took ('twas all she could,) his fleeting breath;
Beyond her power, he reascends the skies, Disdains the sepulchre, and smiles on death. Yes, honoured youth! in ev'ry gentle breast
Thy name shall live for ages yet to come: By ev'ry Muse thy worth shall be confest,
And Virtue's self shall weep upon thy tomb!
Tell then, blest spirit, tell the thoughtless crew, Who boast their youth, that youth will soon be o'er;
Bid them reflect, and, provident like you, Improve, while yet they may, the present hour.
ON MY BIRTHDAY.-Mrs. Carter.
AUTHOR of life! in vain my tongue essays,
Grant me, great GOD, a heart to Thee inclin'd,
Conduct the steps of my unguarded youth,
And warn my soul to shun the tempter's snare..
And bless the bounteous hand from whence they flow.
Or, if an adverse fortune be my share,
But fixt on Thee a steady faith maintain,
And own all good, which Thy decrees ordain ;
On thy unfailing providence depend,
The best Protector, and the surest Friend!
MEMORY OF MRS. ELIZABETH CARTER..
WITHIN the silent chambers of the dead,
Her sacred clay lies wrapp'd in peaceful sleep, With years and honour crown'd. Time gently led
Her steady footsteps down the giddy steep
Of human life; surrounded by the blaze
Of talents, fair desert, and high distinguish'd
In early youth, from Pleasure's train retir'd, Willing she trod stern Learning's rugged way; By praise undazzled, humble, tho' admir'd,
She tun'd her lyre to Wisdom's moral lay ; Ev'n in that season, when the sportive pow'r Of Fancy strews our path with many a blooming flow'r.
Mild in the even temper of her mind,
Still on the side of mercy most inclin'd,
Unwillingly she blamed; where blame she must.. Pious as learned, and in faith sincere, Her trust was fix'd on Heaven, her hope already there.
Oh. Virtue! how divine thy form appears, Adorn'd by genius, and with knowledge crown'd;
When smiles benign thy lovely aspect wears,
ON THE DEATH OF MR. GARRICK.
THE last sad rites were done-the sacred ground Was clos'd, and Garrick's dust to dust return'd:
In life, in death, with general honours crown'd, A nation own'd his worth-applauded—mourn'd.
For who, like him, could every sense control; To Shakespeare's self, new charms, new force, impart,
Bid unknown horrors shake the firmest soul,
Oft when his eye, with more than magic pow'r, Gave life to thoughts which words could ne'er reveal,
The voice of praise awhile was heard no more, All gaz'd in silence, and could only feel. Each thought suspended in a general pause,
All shar'd his passions, and forgot their own; 'Till, rous'd at length, in thunders of applause,
Th' accordant dictates of each heart were known.
O lost for ever to our wond'ring view!
Yet faithful Memory shall preserve thy name, Even distant times thy honours shall renew, And Garrick still shall share his Shakespeare's fame.