ON

Several Occafions.

Written by

Dr.THOMAS PARNELL,

Late Arch-Deacon of Clogher:

Printed for B. LINTOT, at the Cross-Keys, between
the Temple Gates in Fleet-ftreet, 1722.

ENGLISH OXFORD

LIBRARY

O

TO THE

Right Honourable, ROBERT,

Earl of OXFORD

AND

Earl MORTIMER.

UCH were the Notes, thy once-loy'd Poet

SUCH

fung,

'Till Death untimely ftop'd his tuneful Tongue. Oh just beheld, and loft! admir'd, and mourn'd!

With foftest Manners, gentleft Arts, adorn'd!

Bleft in each Science, bleft in ev'ry Strain! Dear to the Mufe, to HARLEY dear in vain!

For him, thou oft haft bid the World attend, Fond to forget the Statesman in the Friend; For Swift and him, despis'd the Farce of State, The fober Follies of the Wife and Great; Dextrous, the craving, fawning Crowd to quit, And pleas'd to 'scape from Flattery to Wit.

Abfent or dead, ftill let a Friend be dear,

(A Sigh the Abfent claims, the Dead a Tear) Recall thofe Nights that clos'd thy toilfom Days, Still hear thy Parnell in his living Lays:

Who careless, now, of Int'reft, Fame, or Fate, Perhaps forgets that OXFORD e'er was Great ; Or deeming meaneft what we greatest call, Beholds thee glorious only in thy Fall.

And

And fure if ought below the Seats Divine
Can touch Immortals, 'tis a Soul like thine:

A Soul fupreme, in each hard Inftance try'd,
Above all Pain, all Anger, and all Pride,
The Rage of Pow'r, the Blaft of publick Breath,
The Luft of Lucre, and the Dread of Death.

In vain to Defarts thy Retreat is made;

The Muse attends thee to the filent Shade:

'Tis hers, the brave Man's latest Steps to trace, Re-judge his Acts, and dignify Difgrace. When Int'reft calls off all her sneaking Train, When all th' Oblig'd defert, and all the Vain; She waits, or to the Scaffold, or the Cell,

When the last ling'ring Friend has bid farewel. Ev'n now she shades thy Evening Walk with Bays,

(No Hireling fhe, no Prostitute to Praise)