young man, with whom he lived on terms of the most affectionate confidence. It was greatly his wish

In exile with his godlike prince he mourn'd:
For him he suffer'd, and with him return'd.
The court he practised, not the courtier's art:
Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart;
Which well the noblest objects knew to choose-
The fighting warrior, and recording muse.
His bed could once a fruitful issue boast:
Now more than half a father's name is lost;
His eldest hope with every grace adorn'd,
By me (so heaven will have it) always mourn'd
And always honour'd, snatch'd in manhood's prime
By' unequal fates and providence's crime:
Yet not before the goal of honour won,

All parts fulfill'd of subject and of son;
Swift was the race, but short the time to run.
Oh! narrow circle, but of power divine;
Scanted in space, but perfect in thy line!

}

By sea, by land, thy matchless worth was known;

Arms thy delight, and war was all thy own.

Thy force infused the fainting Tyrians [Dutch] propp'd,
And haughty Pharaoh [France] found his fortune stopp❜d.
Oh ancient honour! oh unconquer'd hand,

Whom foes unpunish'd never could withstand!

But Israel [England] was unworthy of his name:
Short is the date of all immoderate fame.

It looks as heaven our ruin had design'd,

And durst not trust thy fortune and thy mind.'

Upon the death of Lord Ossory in 1680, the Lord Chamberlain wrote to his father, then at Kilkenny, to state the circumstances of it, and the particular requests of the deceased; to which the Duke returned the following reply:

'Kilkenny, August 9, 1680.

Though I had much more fear than hope of my son Ossory's recovery from yours of the 27th of the last month, and did all I could to prepare myself for what yours of the 31st brought me ; yet I find I was mistaken in myself, and that I want that composure I ought to have. The breach that the death of such a

to have called a parliament in Ireland, in order to settle affairs; but to this his Majesty would not give his consent. On a more limited scale of improve

son has made in my family, with all the consequences of it, come into my thoughts as fast as grief will allow them entrance. I consider my own age, and my grandson's youth, and how unfit we are to contend with public and domestic difficulties: but God having let me see the vanity and sinfulness of any confidence and reliance upon that son, will I trust, upon a hearty submission to his blessed will, extend his protection to those he has left behind him. I have now in this world no business of my own belonging to the world, but to provide for his widow and fatherless children. All I have and shall have is, and, I trust in God, will be theirs and I wish, for their sakes, I had been a better manager than I have been. My son's kindness to his wife, and care of her, increases my value of him and my sorrow for him; and I am glad he expressed it so frequently, when he thought of that hour which is come upon us. But there was no other need of it, than the manifestation of his good-nature; for I am ready to do for her, whatever she or her friends can wish, knowing that who are her friends must be her children's. What is to be done in relation to the payments of debts, and rewards of servants, I must have more time and more settled thoughts to resolve upon; only, in general, my intention is to fulfil all his desires, as far as they can be reasonably executed. The body I wish may remain in a decent repository, till I am able to think of removing it where I purpose to lie myself. I am not able to judge of the advantage of his son's appearing so early; but if the Bishop has delayed the sending him on your last summons till he hears from me, as by a letter from him I find his intention was, I desire he may be left there till I am in a case to offer your Lordship my sense concerning the disposing of him for the time to come. And, if the youth be with you, I wish he may be sent back as soon as you have produced him where you think fit. I should now own all your kindnesses to my son, which have been so long, so constant, and so useful to him to the last, and I am confident your love will transfer to those he hath left. Think but how I loved, and valued him; think me grateful, and then you will make some estimate of my sense of your concernment for him, &c.'

ment, he laid the foundation of the Hospital for soldiers; erected Charles Fort, to secure the harbour of Kinsale; and by detecting gross frauds in the revenue, and other measures, very considerably augmented both the finances and the forces of the kingdom.

The King at this time, with a view of gaining over his enemies, adopted the method of making them more formidable, by placing them in posts of power and credit; for which end, he desired Ormond to resign his post of Lord Steward of the Household. The account of the Popish plot being sent to Ireland, as including a design upon his Grace's life, occasioned his issuing proclamations and taking various precautions necessary upon such an occasion: as his moderation, however, did not meet the wishes of the more violent tempers with which he was surrounded, a design of assassinating him was strongly rumoured, and letters to that purpose were dropped in the streets, with the hope that for the sake of his own security he might be urged to greater severities. But his firmness of mind was not to be shaken.

Lord Shaftesbury in the House of Peers having insinuated, that Ormond was popishly inclined,' from this attack the Duke's friends inferred farther designs against him, and accordingly advised him to come to England. But on writing for the royal permission, the answer he received was, His Majesty had one of his kingdoms in good hands, and he was resolved to keep it so.' As it was still whispered, however, that he was to be removed, Lord Arlington inquired of his royal Master If such a report was true?'"No," replied Charles, "It is a dd lie;

I am satisfied, while Ormond is in Ireland, that kingdom is safe."

The King, who believed that designs were formed to limit his authority, would have brought Lord Shaftesbury to his trial: but the grand jury properly threw out the bill, and as the ferment afterward abated in England, the Irish mind likewise sunk into a sympathetic repose. Under these favourable circumstances, the Lieutenant in 1682 had an opportunity, on the royal invitation, of coming over to London, leaving his son (the Earl of Arran) Lord Deputy. Upon his arrival he met with a most affectionate reception from his Majesty, was sworn of the Privy Council, and created an English Duke.

After two years' residence in England, he received orders to return to his government. No sooner had he set off, than he was attacked on some suggestions from Colonel Talbot; who made such a report to the King, that a general reformation in the council, the magistracy, and the army of Ireland was determined, and his Grace was warned by Sir Robert Southwell of his intended removal. Shortly afterward, the King himself intimated to him his pleasure upon the subject. On the sixth of February 1685, his Majesty died; and the Duke, having first caused James II. to be proclaimed, within four days laid down his office.*

On his way to England, he received the news of

* Lord Clarendon succeeded him in the Lieutenancy; but, after a twelvemonth's enjoyment of that dignity, was recalled to make way for Colonel Talbot (created Earl of Tyrconnel) who introduced great changes in both the civil and the military establishment.

his regiment of horse being given to Colonel Talbot; but notwithstanding these affronts from the court, he was met near London by great numbers of coaches, and received at his house by the populace with loud acclamations. He was, also, continued Lord Steward of the Household, and at the ensuing coronation again carried the crown.

At a subsequent period, he withstood the first instance of his Majesty's exercising a dispensing power; and, when James sounded him on the design of abolishing the penal laws, expressed himself unalterably steady in his dislike of what he foresaw would be contrary to the interests of the crown, however it might gratify the inclinations of it's wearer.

He was, without doubt, one of the best, as well as the greatest men of his time; with all the virtues requisite to adorn the station which he occupied, and very few foibles. Generous, high-spirited, and upright, in personal accomplishments he was exceeded by none: his behaviour, graceful and easy, was at the same time full of dignity, and created respect in all who saw him. He spoke extremely well both in private and in public, and expressed himself with great elegance and facility. From the comprehensiveness of his genius, there were few subjects, of which he was not entirely master; and yet, with all his talents and experience, he was extremely modest. Constitutionally loyal to his prince in all circumstances, and fearless of consequences in the discharge of duty, he still held that the law was to be the guide of sovereigns as well as of subjects; and, true to the interest of his country, he pursued and asserted it upon all occasions. He was a steady friend to the Church of England, and bred in his