And fancies I fear they will seem― 1786. LINES COMPOSED FOR A MEMORIAL OF IMMEDIATELY AFTER HIS DEATH, BY HIS NEPHEW FAREWELL! endued with all that could engage All hearts to love thee, both in youth and age! In prime of life, for sprightliness enroll'd Among the gay, yet virtuous as the old; In life's last stage, (O blessings rarely found!) Pleasant as youth with all its blossoms crown'd; Through every period of this changeful state Unchanged thyself-wise, good, affectionate! Marble may flatter, and lest this should seem O'ercharged with praises on so dear a theme, Although thy worth be more than half supprest, Love shall be satisfied, and veil the rest. June, 1788. ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON, THE NIGHT OF THE SEVENTEENTH OF MARCH, 1789. WHEN, long sequester'd from his throne, Then loyalty, with all his lamps 'Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares, Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires, To hang their momentary fires Amid the vault of heaven. So fire with water to compare, Had all the pageants of the world And all the banners been unfurl'd That heralds e'er design'd, For no such sight had England's Queen Forsaken her retreat, Where George, recover'd, made a scene Sweet always doubly sweet. Yet glad she came that night to prove, How much the object of her love Darkness the skies had mantled o'er Darkness, O Queen! ne'er call'd before On borrow'd wheels away she flies, And gratify no curious eyes That night except her own. Arrived, a night like noon she sees, As all by instinct, like the bees, Pleased she beheld aloft portray'd, Emblems of health and heavenly aid, Unlike the enigmatic line, So difficult to spell, Which shook Belshazzar at his wine The night his city fell. Soon watery grew her eyes and dim, None else, except in prayer for him, It was a scene in every part Like those in fable feign'd, And seem'd by some magician's art But other magic there, she knew, To raise such wonders in her view, That cordial thought her spirit cheer'd, Not else unworthy to be fear'd, So, ancient poets say, serene The sea-maid rides the waves, With more than astronomic eyes One Georgian star adorns the skies, Yet let the glories of a night Like that, once seen, suffice, Heaven grant us no such future sight, Such previous woe the price! THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND.* MUSE hide his name of whom I sing, Nor speak the school from which he drew Nor place where he was born. That such a man once was, may seem Perchance may credit win) * Written on reading the following in the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine for April 1789.—“ At Tottenham, John Ardesoif, Esq., a young man of large fortune, and in the splendour of his carriages and horses rivalled by few country gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where, it may be said, he sacrificed too much to conviviality; but, if he had his foibles he had his merits also, that far outweighed them. Mr. A. was very fond of cock-fighting, and had a favourite cock, upon which he had won many profitable matches. The last bet he laid upon this cock he lost; which so enraged him, that he had the bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen who were present attempted to interfere, which so enraged Mr. A. that he seized a poker, and with the most furious vehemence declared, that he would kill the first man who interposed; but, in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spot. Such, we are assured, were the circumstances which attended the death of this great pillar of humanity." |