And, oft, Disease and haggard Care
From lowly poverty repair,
To haunt the regal dome.
How happy he, how truly blest!
Whom of paternal fields possest
No gilded follies lead,
Whom in a state nor low, nor high,
"An elegant sufficiency"
Protects from worldly need.
Frail tenants of Life's flecting hour,
Why do we aim beyond our power
At grandeur here below?
Why seek for ease in distant skies,
Then learn (too late!) the boon we prize
"Tis Virtue's to bestow.
The stings of conscience can we fly?
Can wealth, can luxury supply
The loss of innocence?
No; ever present to our view
Remorse must still our steps pursue,
And haunt the dire offence.
The soul, whom Virtue's dictates sway,
Enjoys the sunshine of the day,
Nor pines at distant ill;
Assur'd that sorrows are his share,
That man's best state is mixed with care
By Heaven's unerring will.
Great Russel fell in manhood's bloom,
While by Fate's mysterious doom,
Yet lingers on the stage,
And while the boon's denied to Thee,
Perhaps all-bounteous Heaven to me
Extends a peaceful age.
For Thee,-what various joys combine,
Power, rank, and honors all are thine,
Hereditary wealth!
For me, an humbler lot will please,
An honest name, domestic ease,
Friends, competence and health.-
RIGHT HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX,
Non sibi, sed toto genitum se credere Mundo.
WITH boundless stores of native genius fraught
By science cherish'd, and by reason taught,
Whose public labours conscious duty steer'd,
Whose social hours Benevolence endear'd;
Sincere of soul, by interest unconfin'd,
Friend of his Country and of all Mankind,
Fox rests at length from earthly cares remov'd,
And tastes that peace his gentle Spirit lov'd.
Long on his frame had wasting sickness prey'd
His pains encreas'd, -the vital springs decay'd,
But ling'ring Death th' uplifted stroke delay'd:
Th' imperfect accents died upon his tongue,
And all around in silent anguish hung.--
Yet pure Devotion taught his soul to rise
In humble resignation to the skies;
Still Hope immortal brighten'd on his mien,
And sooth'd the terrors of the solemn scene;
Without a sigh this being he resign'd,
Or only sigh'd for those he left behind.
Lamented shade! if 'mid the Realms of Joy
A scene so low cœlestial minds employ;
If Britain's woes a kindred pity share,
Be still her orphan Sons thy guardian care.
In some fond breast thy various worth infase,
Thy manly eloquence, thy patriot views;
Thy pride, that scorn'd aspiring vice alone,
Thy love, that made another's wrongs thy own,
Thy matchless soul, from guile, from envy free,
Inspir'd by Truth and sacred Liberty.
Teach us, with Peace and temp'rate Freedom blest,
Secure in native dignity to rest ;
Teach us, that war with thoughtless zeal pursued
Mars social bliss,-blasts universal good;
That reason acting on a wider plan
By kindred charities ennobles man,
Bids public weal on private good encrease,
And leads thro'" paths of Pleasantness and Peace."
ON HER BIRTH-DAY, JAN. .1807.
DEPRIVED of all on earth I valued most,
By disappointed hope, and cares deprest,
Each brighter dream of Expectation crost,
Say what shall soothe my wounded soul to rest?
In vain amid the circles of the gay
I seek a short oblivion of despair, To scenes of solitude in vain I stray,
The form of vanish'd Pleasure haunts me there.
Remembrance still recalls the cherish'd hours,
When not a cloud obscur'd this tranquil breast;
But vain are all her visionary powers,
Which only tell me, that I once was blest.
Yet tho' impervious clouds deform the skies,
And drooping nature fades before the gloom,
Tho' unexpected storms around me rise,
And not a ray the distant scenes illume,
Tho' Hope no more the opening prospect cheers,
And Fancy's brighter visions all decay,
Yet shall Affection to my latest years,
With cherish'd rapture bless thy natal day.
Where'er I roam, whate'er my earthly state,
For thee, my love, the heartfelt prayer shall rise,
For thee invoke a milder, happier fate,
And every bliss which heaven to me denies.
Oh! never may thy gentle bosom know
The pangs which rend the disappointed heart,
But ever as the varying seasons flow
Each opening hour some new-born charm impart.
Be thine each purer joy the world bestows,
An age unvex'd with malady or strife,
Content, alternate pleasure and repose,
And all that graces, all that sweetens life.
These joys (such joys for thee should Heaven ordain, In pity to the anguish I endure)
May yield a transitory pause from pain,
And soothe perhaps the ills they cannot cure.
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