HRO' groves fequefter'd, dark and still,
Low vales, and moffy cells among,
In filent paths the careless rill,
Which languid murmurs, fteals along:
Awhile it plays with circling fweep,
And lingering leaves its native plains, Then pours impetuous down the steep, And mingles with the boundless main.
O let my years thus devious glide,
Through filent fcenes obfcurely calm, Nor wealth nor ftrife pollute the tide, Nor honour's fanguinary palm.
When labour tires, and pleasure palls,
Still let the ftream untroubled be,
As down the fleep of age it falls,
And mingles with eternity.
EPISTLE FROM LORD WILLIAM RUSSEL, TO
LORD WILLIAM CAVENDISH*.
OST to the world, to-morrow doom'd to die,
Still for my country's weal my heart beats high.
Tho' rattling chains ring peals of horror round,
While night's black fhades augment the favage found,
'Midft bolts and bars the active foul is free,
And flies, unfetter'd, CAVENDISH, to thee.
Thou dear companion of my better days,
When hand in hand we trod the paths of Praise;
When, leagu'd with patriots, we maintain'd the cause
Of true religion, liberty, and laws,
Difdaining down the golden ftream to glide,
But bravely stemm'd Corruption's rapid tide;
Think not I come to bid thy tears to flow,
Or melt thy generous foul with tales of woe?
No: view me firm, unfhaken, undifmay'd,
As when the welcome mandate I obey'd―
* This epiftle is fuppofed to have been written by Lord RUSSEL, on Friday night, July 20, 1683, in Newgate; that prifon having been the place of his confinement for fome days immediately preceding his execution.
Heavens! with what pride that moment I recall!
Who would not wifh, fo honour'd, thus to fall!
When England's Genius, hovering o'er, infpir'd
Her chofen fons, with love of Freedom fir'd,
Spite of an abje&t, fervile, penfion'd train,
Minions of Power, and worshippers of Gain,
To fave from bigotry its deftin'd prey,
And shield three nations from tyrannick fway.
'Twas then my CA'NDISH caught the glorious flame,
The happy omen of his future fame;
Adorn'd by Nature, perfected by Art,
The clearest head, and warmeft, nobleft heart,
His words, deep finking in each captiv'd ear,
Had power to make e'en Liberty more dear.
While I, unfkill'd in Oratory's lore,
Whofe tongue ne'er fpeaks but when the heart runs o'er,
In plain blunt phrafe my honeft thoughts exprefs'd
Warm from the heart, and to the heart addrefs'd.
Juftice prevail'd: yes Juftice, let me fay,
Well pois'd her scales on that aufpicious day.
The watchful fhepherd fpies the wolf afar,
Nor trufts his flock to try th' unequal war;
What tho' the favage crouch in humble guise,
And check the fire that flashes from his eyes,
Should once his barbarous fangs the fold invade,
Vain were their cries, too late the shepherd's aid,
Thirsting for blood, he knows not how to spare,
His jaws diftend, his fiery eyeballs glare,
While ghafly Defolation, ftalking round,
With mangled limbs beftrews the purple ground.
Now, Memory, fail! nor let my mind revolve,
How England's Peers annull'd the juft refolve,
Against her bofom aim'd a deadly blow,
And laid at once her great Palladium low!
Degenerate nobles! Yes, by heaven I fwear,
Had BEDFORD's felf appear'd delinquent there,
And join'd, forgetful of his country's claims,
To thwart the exclufion of apoftate JAMES,
All filial ties had then been left at large,
And I myself the firft to urge the charge.
Such the fix'd fentiments that rule my foul,
Time cannot change, nor Tyranny controul;
While free, they hung upon my penfive brow,
Then my chief care, my pride and glory now;
Foil'd I fubmit, nor think the measure hard,
For confcious Virtue is its own reward.
Vain then is force, and vain each subtile art,
To wring retraction from my tortur'd heart;
There lie, in marks indelible engrav'd,
The means whereby my country must be fav'd;
Are to thine eyes thofe characters unknown?
To read my inmoft heart, confult thine own;
There wilt thou find this facred truth reveal'd,
Which fhall to-morrow with my blood be feal'd,
Seek not infirm expedients to explore,
But banish JAMES, or England is no more.
Friendship her tender offices may fpare,
Nor ftrive to move the unforgiving pair,
Hopeless the tyrant's mercy-feat to climb-
Zeal for my country's freedom is my crime!
Ere that meets pardon, lambs with wolves fhall range,
CHARLES be a faint, and JAMES his nature change.
Prefs'd by my friends, and RACHEL's fond defires, ·
(Who can deny what weeping love requires!)
Frailty prevail'd, and for a moment quell'd
Th' indignant pride that in my bosom swell'd;
I fu'd-the weak attempt I blush to own-
I fu'd for mercy, proftrate at the throne.
O! blot the foible out, my noble friend,
With human firmness human feelings blend!
When Love's endearments fofteft moments feize,
And Love's dear pledges hang upon the knees,
When Nature's strongest ties the foul enthrall,
(Thou canst conceive, for thou haft felt them all!)
Let him refift their prevalence who can ;
He must indeed, be more or less than man.
Yet let me yield my RACHEL honour due, The tendereft wife, the nobleft heroine too! Anxious to fave her husband's honeft name, Dear was his life, but dearer ftill his fame! When fuppliant prayers no pardon could obtain,
And, wonderous strange! ev'n BEDFORD's gold prov'd vain,
1 Lady Rachel Ruffel, his wife. See her Letters lately published.
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