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Oh! lyre divine, what daring fpirit
Wakes thee now? though he inherit
Nor the pride, nor ample.pinion,
That the Theban eagle bear,
Sailing with fupreme dominion
Through the azure deep of air;
Yet oft before his infant
Such forms, as glitter in the Mufe's ray
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the fun :
Yet fhall he 'mount, and keep his distant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate
Beneath the good how far-but far above the great.
Upon the DEATH of Lord HASTINGS.
UST noble Haftings immaturely die,
The honour of his ancient family,
Beauty and learning thus together meet,
To bring a winding for a wedding fheet?
Muft virtue prove death's harbinger? must she,
With him expiring, feel mortality?
Is death, fin's wages, grace's now? shall art Make us more learned, only to depart? If merit be disease; if virtue death; To be good, not to be; who'd then bequeath Himself to difcipline? who'd not esteem Labour a crime? ftudy felf-murther deem? Our noble youth now have pretence to be Dunces fecurely, ignorant healthfully. Rare linguist whofe worth fpeaks itself, whofe praife, Though not his own, all tongues besides do raise : Than whom great Alexander may fecm lefs; Who conquer'd men, but not their languages. 1 In his mouth nations fpake; his tongue might be Interpreter to Greece, France, Italy.
His native foil was the four parts o'th' earth;
All Europe was too narrow for his birth.
A young apostle; and with reverence may
I speak it, infpir'd with gift of tongues, as they.
Nature gave him a child, what men in vain
Oft ftrive, by art though further'd, to obtain.
His body was an orb, his fublime foul
Did move on virtue's, and on learning's pole:
Whose regular motions better to our view,
Than Archimedes' sphere, the heavens did shew.
Graces and virtues, languages and arts,
Beauty and learning, fill'd up all the parts.
Heaven's gifts, which do like falling stars appear
Scatter'd in others; all, as in their sphere,
Were fix'd, conglobate in his foul; and thence
Shone through his body, with sweet influence;
Letting their glories fo on each limb fall,
The whole frame render'd was celeftial.'
Come, learned Ptolemy, and tryal make,
If thou this hero's altitude canft take :
But that tranfcends thy fkill; thrice happy all,
Could we but prove thus aftronomical.
Liv'd Tycho now, ftruck with this ray which shone
More bright i'th' morn', than others beam at noon,
He'd take his aftrolabe, and feek out here
What new star 'twas did gild our hemisphere.
Replenish'd then with fuch rare gifts as these,
Where was room left for fuch a foul difeafe?
The nation's fin hath drawn that veil, which shrouds
Our day-fpring in fo fad benighting clouds,
Heaven would no longer truft its pledge; but thus
Recall'd it; rapt its Ganymede from us.
Was there no milder way but the fmall-pox,
The very filthinefs of Pandora's box ?
So many fpots, like næves on Venus' foil,
One jewel fet off with fo many a foil;
Blifters with pride fwell'd, which through's flesh did sprout
Like rofe-buds, ftuck i'th' lily-fkin about.
Each little pimple had a tear in it,
To wail the fault its rifing did commit:
Which, rebel-like, with it's own lord at ftrife,
Thus made an infurrection 'gainst his life.
Or were thefe gems fent to adorn his fkin,
The cab'net of a richer foul within?
No comet need foretel his change drew on,
Whofe corps might feem a conftellation.
O! had he dy'd of old, how great a strife
Had been, who from his death fhould draw their life?
Who fhould, by one rich draught, become whate'er
Seneca, Cato, Numa, Cæfar, were ?
Learn'd, virtuous, pious, great; and have by this
An univerfal metempfychofis.
Must all these aged fircs in one funeral
Expire all die in one fo young, so small ?
Who, had he liv'd his life out, his great fame
Had fwol'n 'bove any Greek or Roman name.
But hafty winter, with one blaft, hath brought
The hopes of autumn, fummer, fpring, to nought.
Thus fades the cak i'th' fprig, i'th' blade the corn;
Thus without young, this Phoenix dies, new-born.
Muft then old three-legg'd grey-beards with their gout,
Catarrhs, rheumns, aches, live three long ages out?
Time's offals, only fit for th' hospital!
Or to hang antiquaries rooms withal!
Muft drunkards, lechers, fpent with finning, live
With fuch helps as broths, poffets, phyfic give?
None live, but fuch as fhould die? fhall we meet
With none but ghoftly fathers in the street?
Grief makes me rail; forrow will force its way;
And showers of tears tempeftuous fighs beft lay.
The tongue may fail; but overflowing eyes
Will weep out lafting freams of elegies.
But thou, O virgin-widow, left alone,
Now thy beloved, heaven-ravish'd spouse is gone,
Whofe fkilful fire in vain ftrove to apply
Med'cines, when thy balm was no remedy,
With greater than platonic love, O wed
His foul, though not his body, to thy bed:
Let that make thee a mother; bring thou forth
Th' ideas of his virtue, knowledge, worth;
Tranfcribe th' original in new copies; give
Haftings o'th' better part: fo fhall he live
In's nobler half; and the great grandfire be
Of an heroic divine progeny:
An iffue, which t'eternity fhall last,
Yet but th'irradiations which he caft.
Erect no mausoleums: for his best
Monument is his fpoufe's marble breast.