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Who deem his house a useless place;

Faith, want of common sense; And ardour in the Christian race,

Ą hypocrite's pretence ?

Who trample order; and the day,

Which God asserts his own, Dishonour with unhallow'd play,

And worship chance alone?
If scorn of God's commands, impress'd

On word and deed, imply
The better part of man unbless'd

With life that cannot die;

Such want it, and that want, uncured

Till man resigns his breath, Speaks him a criminal, assured

Of everlasting death.

Sad period to a pleasant course!

Yet so will God repay
Sabbaths profaned without remorse,

And mercy cast away,

INSCRIPTION FOR A STONE

ERECTED AT THE SOWING OF A GROVE OF OAKS AT CHIL

LINGTON, THE SEAT OF T. GIFFORD, ESQ. 1790.

OTHER stones the era tell,
When some feeble mortal fell;
I stand here to date the birth
Of these hardy sons of earth.

Which shall longest brave the sky,
Storm and frost-these oaks or I?
Pass an age or two away,
I must moulder and decay;
But the years that crumble me
Shall invigorate the tree,
Spread its branch, dilate its size,
Lift its summit to the skies.

Cherish honour, virtue, truth,
So shalt thou prolong thy youth.
Wanting these, however fast
Man be fix'd, and form’d to last,
He is lifeless even now,
Stone at heart, and cannot grow.

LINES

COMPOSED FOR A MEMORIAL OF ASHLEY COWPER, ESQ,

IMMEDIATELY AFTER HIS DEATH, BY HIS NEPHEW WILLIAM OF WESTON.

JUNE, 1788.

FAREWELL! endued with all that could

engage All hearts to love thee, both in youth and age! In prime of life, for sprightliness enroll’d Among the gay, yet virtuous as the old;

TO THE MEMORY OF THORNTON. 279 In life's last stage (O blessings rarely found !) Pleasant as youth with all its blossoms crown'd; Through every period of this changeful state Unchanged thyself—wise, good, affectionate! Marble

may flatter; and lest this should seem O'ercharged with praises on so dear a theme, Although thy worth be more than half suppress'd, Love shall be satisfied, and veil the rest.

TO THE MEMORY

OF THE LATE

JOHN THORNTON, ESQ.

1790.

Poets attempt the noblest task they can,
Praising the Author of all good in man;
And, next, commemorating worthies lost,
The dead in whom that good abounded most.

Thee, therefore, of commercial fame, but more
Famed for thy probity from shore to shore,
Thee, Thornton! worthy in some page to shine,
As honest and more eloquent than mine,
I mourn; or, since thrice happy thou must be,
The world no longer thy abode, not thee.
Thee to deplore were grief mispent indeed;
It were to weep that goodness has its meed,
That there is bliss prepared in yonder sky,
And glory for the virtuous when they die.

What pleasure can the miser's fondled hoard Or spendthrift's prodigal excess afford,

280 TO THE MEMORY OF THORNTON.
Sweet as the privilege of healing woe
By virtue suffer'd combating below?
That privilege was thine; Heaven gave thee means
To'illumine with delight the saddest scenes,
Till thy appearance chased the gloom, forlorn
As midnight, and despairing of a morn.
Thou hadst an industry in doing good,
Restless as his who toils and sweats for food;
Avarice, in thee, was the desire of wealth
By rust unperishable or by stealth;
And if the genuine worth of gold depend
On application to its noblest end,
Thine had a value in the scales of Heaven,
Surpassing all that mine or mint had given.
And, though God made thee of a nature prone
To distribution boundless of thy own,
And still by motives of religious force
Impell’d thee more to that heroic course;
Yet was thy liberality discreet,
Nice in its choice, and of a temper'd heat,
And, though in act upwearied, secret still,
As in some solitude the summer rill
Refreshes, where it winds, the faded green,
And cheers the drooping flowers, unheard, unseen.

Such was thy charity; no sudden start,
After long sleep, of passion in the heart.
But steadfast principle, and, in its kind,
Of close relation to the Eternal Mind,
Traced easily to its true source above,
To Him, whose works bespeak his nature, Love.

Thy bounties all were Christian, and I make This record of thee for the Gospel's sake; That the incredulous themselves may see Its use and power exemplified in Thee.

TO THE

MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD.

Our good, old friend is gone, gone to his rest,
Whose social converse was itself a feast.
Oye of riper age, who recollect
How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect,
Both in the firmness of his better day,
While yet he ruled you

with a father's

sway, And when impair'd by time and glad to rest, Yet still with looks, in mild complacence dress’d, He took his annual seat, and mingled here His sprightly vein with yours-now drop a tear. In morals blameless as in manners meek, He knew no wish that he might blush to speak; But, happy in whatever state below, And richer than the rich in being so, Obtain'd the hearts of all, and such a meed At length from One', as made him rich indeed. Hence then, ye titles, hence, not wanted here, Go, garnish merit in a brighter sphere, The brows of those whose more exalted lot He could congratulate, but envied not.

Light lie the turf, good Senior! on thy breast, And tranquil as thy mind was be thy rest! Though, living, thou hadst more desert than fame, And not a stone now chronicles thy name.

1 He was usher and under master of Westminster near fifty years, and retired from his occupation when he was near seventy, witb a bandsome pension from the king.

VOL. II.

BB

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