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On the Death of Lieutenant Colonel Buller, killed in
Flanders in 1795.
WRITTEN BY MR. SHERIDAN, AT THE REQUEST OF
HIS PRESENT LADY.
SCARCE hush'd the sigh, scarce dried the ling’ring tear,
Unknown to me the object of her grief
the wish no vain intrusion prove, To share her grief, for all who shar'd her love.
Yes, gallant victim ! in this hateful strife,
Thy heart's first comment was affection's birth;
* Mrs. Sheridan had just lost a brother.
But, ah! not tears alone fill Laura's
harsh emotion leave to me!
And oh, by Heav'n! that hour shall surely come,
Then, then shall fell remorse, the dastard fiend,
Turn from the hateful scene, dear Laura, turn,
Thy much-lov'd image, whose all-soothing smile
AN ELEGY To the Memory of a Friend : written a Year after his
BY RICHARD FENTON, ESQ.
Cui pudor et justitiæ soror
At midnight hour, why gleams with sullen sweep
Thy visionary form across my mind,
And chill me, waking, with thy frown unkind ?
With stern reproach for many a trifling song ? Methinks I hear thee say, “ If thou hadst dy'd,
“ I had not left thee thus unwept so long !" Forgive, dear shade, if twelve long moons are fled
Since to the earth thy dear remains we gave, (Tho' witness Heaven how much my heart has bled!)
Nor yet my pious Muse has dress'd thy grave.
While lighter sorrow prompts th' impassiou'd strain,
Severer, all the powers of fancy stints; The flower, that drown'd would die beneath the rain,
Drinks the thin dew, and spreads its brighter tints. And how could I insult thee with a lyre,
Whose strings had not forgotten yet the lays Which love and youth united to inspire,
When health and pleasure frolick'd through our days: By many an agonizing groan betray'd,
By many a suffocated sigh confest (Thy rites not unremember'd, tho' unpaid,) Thy memory long was buried in
my breast. But now my breast gives up its dead to rise, And pierce new-born through grief's surrounding
gloom, As thy own dust when summon’d to the skies,
Awak’d, shall spring exulting from the tomb. Pain's recent sting, beyond endurance keen,
Sheath'd in the balm of years, forgets to rage, And grief's stern form, through time's soft amber seen,
To melancholy mellow'd, may engage. · Then, Recollection, all the scene recall,
And bid each kind endearment to return Which link'd our hearts, for I can bear them all,
In grief ecstatic whilst I clasp thy urn. Recall the music of the early horn,
The tale well-form'd our wanderings to deceive, When
exercise awak'd the morn, Or social converse led us vut at eye.
The spot revisit where our youth was spent,
Where joys were for maturer years prepar’d; Where I had wish'd to live and die content,
To share those pleasures had thy life been spar'da There in each hill, each valley, and each tree,
That rises frequent on my sad review, Never to fade, I mark each fair degree
By which our friendship to perfection grew. Their shadowy arms where yon twin-beeches throw,
Oft hast thou caught thy favourite Homer's rage, As oft exchang'd it for the temperate glow,
The milder rapture of the MANTUAN sage. There, fir'd by thee, I first essay'd to sing,
My earliest strain is dated from that shade, And there, temptation to retouch the string,
The simple verse thy candid smiles o'erpaid. Oft have we plann’d the pine's umbrageous rows,
Where opens to the wind yon naked plain;
The future shelter of the Dryad train.
Or in the covert of the hazel shade,
We plann'd the torrent fall of the cascade. Twin'd like our hearts, where yonder boughs unite,
With care we trimm'd the arch of the alcove, A shade devoted to the pure delight
Of noblest friendsbip, and the xhastest love