Imagens das páginas


To the Memory of John Courtenay, a Cadet in the Corps

of Engineers, who died at Calcutta, December 1794, in the 19th Year of his Age.


O SHADE belov'd, still present to my sight,
My daily vision, and my dream by night!
In all thy youthful bloom thou seem'st to rise,
With filial love yet beaming from thy eyes.
Such were thy looks, and such thy manly grace,
When late I held thee in a last embrace;
When in my breast presaging terrors grew,
And, sunk in grief, I sigh'd a long adieu.
How soon to thee this plaintive note I owe,
My plaintive note to soothe maternal woe!
“ * hose fading orbs their darling view no more,
“ And the last charm of ebbing life is o'er."
Dark o'er


head the low'ring moments roll, For ever set the sun-beam of my soul.

Is this, indeed, the universal doom ! No

ray of hope to cheer the lonely tomb! Perhaps the soul, a


ethereal flame, May still survive her frail and transient frame, And wrapp'd in bliss, the great Creator trace, Celestial Power! who lives thro' boundless space! See his benevolence unclouded shine, Where wisdom, virtue, dwell in joys divine;

* In an Elegy on Captain Courtney.


Search truths sublime; with sacred rapture scan
His gracious views conceald fron erring man:
But reason vainly would this depth explore,
And fabled systems make us doubt the more.

O Youth belov'd, now mouldering in the tomb,
Each soft progression, ev’n to manhood's bloom,
My fancy paints ; in infancy my pride,
With sparkling eyes still playful at my side;
The lively boy then rose with winning grace,
Till ripening ardour mark'd his glowing face.
I saw him shine in every liberal art,
Science and fame the passion of his heart.
Where Granta's domes o'erhang the cloister'd plain,
Studious he mix'd in Learning's pensive train ;
There, Meditation lent her sacred aid,
To woo bright Science in the peaceful shade.
Why tempt that burning clime, that fatal shore?
* The glorious motive pains my bosom more.

When bards sublime attun'd the sounding lyre, His vivid breast display'd congenial fire: He bade TYRTÆUs' martial ardour shine, And breathes his spirit in each glowing line; With Henry's glory gilds his classic lays, And joins the Prince's in the Hero's praise ; Indignant scorn on Freedom's foe he fings, And spurns ambition, the mean vice of Kings; With Prior's graceful ease he moves along, And laughs at fiction in his sportive song; With pregnant fancy, brilliant wit defines, And blends examples in his playful lines;

* Extract of one of his letters from Portsmoutlı, April 20, 1794.

For the idea of being a service to, and of again seeing those who are so dear to me, is the most lively and pleasing sensation I can ever have."

In sprightly numbers chants Maria's * sway, While WALLER's groves resound the amorous lay.

How pleas’d with mine to mix thy tuneful strain 1, When Freedom's banner wav'd on Gallia's plain! There fervid & courage won thce early praise, And, wing'd with pleasure, flew our happy days: Never did Nature's bounteous hand impart A nobler spirit, or a gentler heart.

How dear to all ! by social love refin’d,
No selfish passion warp'd his generous mind!
When from my breast a sigh reluctant stole,
That spoke the boding sorrows of my soul;
He grasp'd my hand, the parting moment nigh,
A filial tear yet starting from his eye,
And sweetly strove the present gloom to cheer;
These words for ever vibrate ou my ear :
* Ah, why repine! the palm of honour won,
" Descends a bright incentive to thy son,
* To spurn at Wealth in India's tempting clime,
“ If stain’d by bribes, if sullied by a crime.
“ O let my voice each anxious care dispel,
" I'll soon return to those I love so well.”

That promis'd bliss-that vital beam is past,
Hope's genial shoots all wither’d at onc blast ;
He'll ne'er return, in shining talents blest,
With duteous zcal to glad a parent's breast.

* Verses addressed to Miss M. L.
+ Written at Hail Barn, Beaconsfield.

The Republican and Nuns Song, published in the Poetical Epistles from France.

A very young soldier at the door of the National Convention menaced him with his pointed • bayonet, which he instantly seized, and wrested the piece out of his hands. One of the Members was fortunately a witness of the transaction, and, after reprimanding the centinel, introduced my son into the Convention, and told me the fact, with high culogiuins on his spirit.

- Midst social joy, in festive pleasure gay,
A sudden corse * the blooming victim lay;
While here forlorn. I yet exist to tell,
How in the glow of youth my darling fell.
Life's closing scenes no consolation lend,
I've ti lost my sweet: companion and my friend.

That grief is vain--but tempts me to repine,
Ev'n | Fox's generous tears i have flowd with mine.

O shade benign, still at my couch arise,
Till low in earth thy once-lov'd father lies.
Ne'er from my mind can thy memorial part,
Thy picture's grav'd for ever on my heart:
But India's mould contains thy hallow'd shrine,

my last wish to-mix my dust with thinc. For thee sweet Emma drops the tender tear, Sighs o'er thy verse, and thy untimely bier ; For thee Sophia heaves her aching breast, While plaintively she lulls her babe to rest. For thee thy Mother's eyes incessant flow; Thy fate alone could touch my heart with woe: With flow'rs I'll strew thy urn, and clasp thy bust, With my last numbers consecrate thy dust;

* Captain Grey, to R. J. Esq.--" In answer to your note of yesterday, I ain compelled to the painful task of coninrunicating the melancholy account of Mr. C- 's death. At a ball on the 14th of December, being over-heated with dancing, he imprudently drank a glass of lemonade, 'which proved alinost instantly fatal.”

+ Extract of a letter :- Cambridge, February 10, 1792: I am. more obliged to you than I can express : grateful I am to my father, and ever shall 'remain : "passion 'may at times have led me astray, yet still did I ever remember his kindness and affection, admire his talents, respect him as a parent, love him as a protector, a companion, and a friend.”

# Mr. Fox, with generous and consoling attention, and with that Syınpathizing friendship which distinguishes him, gave me the first intimation of this fåtal event.

Dwell on thy praise, and feel, while life remains,
The joy of grief from thy harmonious strains.
Still to thy shade each sacred honour pay,
And to thy grave devote the mournful lay.
"Tis Nature's charm to ease the troubled breast,
And sooth the anguish of the soul to rest;
We fondly hope, by dear delusion led,
To wake our own sensations in the dead,
By sympathy reverse the eternal doom,
Revive the clay and animate the tomb.



'Twixt Art and Nature long has been the strife,
'Tis rare the copy pleases as the life;
But in MIRANDA's chaste designs we view
The pictur'd flower more beauteous than the true,
Her every touch can some new grace impart,
And Nature blushing yields the palm to Art!
--Yet Nature hold! for her soft cheek discloses
Still fairer lilies, and still brighter roses ;
Art sees abash'd, nor more disputes the throne,
For those 0 Nature, those are all thy own!

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