That end was Heav'n; and thou didst point the port,
Where I beheld thee entering with full sails,
Thy vessel firm, its every movement grace,
And, from the sundry realms of knowledge, fraught
With all the stores that Duty bade thee seek,
With all the pow'rs of genius for the search.
Thee Faith, and holy Hope, and meek Content,
Convivial Neatness, Courtesy, and Joy,
Astræa's daughter, wise Economy,
With Charity that often smiles in tears,
And Independence born of Fortitude,
Thine old associate, still attending, grac'd,
The sun-bright evening of thy letter'd life.
Thine was ingenuous learning-skill'd thy mind
In holy things, nor less unseen in life
Than books, through ages fam'd for sacred lore,
Such as no after times must hope to see,
Unless the soul new-wind its nerves relax'd,
New-wake its lukewarm spirit, and arise
With other ardours than this age denote;
'Rise as thy soul did on the vantage-ground
Of Candour, and, enrich'd with later lights,
Rejoice with keen and comprehensive eye
(The citizen of universal truth),
To traverse all the realms of ancient thought.
Thy own original spirit sent its force,
Flowing along this many cavern'd mine,
And thence came shining forth a golden stream.
Hence was thy massy sense, bright burnish'd speech,
Life truly pictur'd, time-tried sentences,
And maxims, wrought with ease by serious mind, When men gave Heav'n what now they give the world,
Their wit, their toil, their learning, and their hearts.
Great is his guerdon, who, like thee, can yield Untir'd attention to the page profound
Of saint-like Hooker, where at once combin'd
Sententious wisdom, order's bright display,
Relentless toil of reas'ning, temper'd grace,
Majestic period, diction nobly pure,
And Candour, quelling controversial rage-
Who flies indignant from the flippant page
To manly Barrow's, following his vast soul
O'er all the regions of the moral theme,
'Mid judgment's labour marking rhet'ric's grace, And gathering Fancy's flow'rs 'mid Truth's detailTo Taylor's all-accomplish'd spirit, strong
To reason, paint, invent-a poet's flame,
A saint's, a seraph's-under check of Truth,
The most creative energy of mind.
Such oft were thy companions, thy delight, To whom my fond thoughts mournful tribute meant, But find no cause to mourn; for thus employ'd Thine age mature stole gently to that home Where all are hast'ning-thus employ'd, thy soul Insensibly to Christian peace inclin'd,
And calm and patient chose the quiet path
That leads through easy joys to meek Content.
Though on thy mortal part part the
grave hath clos'd, Still shall thy fame survive-so great thy gift
Of eloquence, that e'en this careless age,
Scornful of high and holiest faculties,
Shall waft thy name rever'd to nobler times.
Farewel, thou only not the last remains
Of that blest band, that holy company,
Who to high station sought no other way
Than by those faculties, that prime desert,
On which alone Religion leans, and lasts.
Farewel once more—and till the close of time,
Till the last trumpet calls thy corp'ral dust
Into a glorious form to grace thy soul,
May there thy honour'd relicks rest in peace
Beneath that hallow'd roof, where once I heard
Thee, with such tones mellifluous, raptur'd air,
Divine display of learning, reason, faith,
Unfold the glories of eternal life.
There may they rest in peace, where rests the clay
Which once enclos'd a Berkeley's mind, and held
The seraph soul of Smalridge from its home.
Nor ever, through the tossing tide of Time,
May names like these be wanting to adorn
The fam'd abode of Arts by Wolsey rais'd—
That, till this globe of earth shall melt away,
Britannia may proclaim, with grateful heart,
"Here (where the cloister'd musings of my Locke
"Lit the first sparkles of the blaze, which shew'd
"Th' astonish'd mind of man its pow'rs and rights),
"Still temper'd Wisdom civil Truth shall guard,
"And watch the barriers of primeval Faith."
READING AND CONVERSATION.
Reading makes a full man, conference a ready man.
WHAT if a few, by reading not refin'd,
Excel from native energy of mind,
Let not the rare example those mislead
That aim at wisdom, yet refuse to read,
That Wisdom's summit hope in vain to reach
By slight discourse and desultory speech.
For where, ah! where in gen'ral may be found
Discourse establish'd on opinions sound,
By graceful elocution form'd to charm,
Improve the reason, and the passions warm,
With Fancy's graces feast the mental sight,
And Truth exhibit in her purest light?
What tho' discourse, if Bacon we believe,
May to the learn❜d the ready converse give,
Yet little profit from that converse flows,
But what to reading's treasur'd stores it owes ;
Tho' fools applaud, and booby school-boys stare,
'Tis but a bubble shines, and bursts in air.
Grant that the mind shews graceful by discourse,
An easier speed displays, a warmer force,
Yet he who self-sufficient scorns to read,
But blazons Folly by her force and speed.
Let Folly silent lurk behind her shield,
Not boldly vaunt it in the listed field;
The lion's skin but mocks the braying ass―
Tho' well-hid weakness may for vigour pass.
"Bless me," says Sporus, silk-bedizen'd beau, His speech all tattle, and his life all show, "What fools are they on musty books who pore, "Where formal Dulness heaps her chaffy store! "From life's gay circles more is to be known, "Than from the lectures of collegiate drone : "There we receive the coin that we repay,
Brighten'd by use, and fearless of the day; "But college maxims must be made more bright, "Before you dare produce 'em into light"For ere the pedant's rust can disappear, "Faith! one must have the rub of many a year."
True, Sporus, books alone will not suffice. To make the mind of man completely wise, Since the mere book-worm is in life unseen, Nor less in conduct weak than rude in mien; Infer you then, pert thing, the coxcomb right, Who snarls at learning with a puppy's spite, And, puppy-like, if coat uncouth displease
This brainless worshipper of surfaces,
Tho' he has spite to wound, has scarcely pow'r to teaze?
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