To thee, whose soul, all steadfast and serene, Beholds the tumults that distract our scene; And, in the calmer seats of wisdom placed, Enjoys the sweets of sentiment and taste; To thee, O Marius! whom no factions sway, The impartial muse devotes her honest lay! In her fond breast no prostituted aim, Nor venal hope, assumes fair friendship's name : Sooner shall Churchill's feeble meteor-ray, That led our foundering demagogue astray, Darkling to grope and flounce in error's night, Eclipse great Mansfield's strong meridian light, Than shall the change of fortune, time, or place, were not only afraid of being seen with him, but durst not even salute him if they met him in the street; some of them having been deprived of their honours, others of their estates, and all of them threatened. The magnificent palaces which he had begun to build were abandoned by the workmen; the services he had formerly done to any one were requited with injuries and abuse; and the honours he had conferred, with infamy and taunts. Many who had made him valuable presents, now came to demand them again, as only lent; and others, who before used to flatter and extol him to the skies, in these circumstances, loaded him with contumely, and reproaches of ingratitude, and violence; so that he heartily repented, though too late, that he had not followed Nicolo Soderini's advice, and preferred an honourable death to a life of igno. miny and contempt. Mach. Hist. Flor. Thy generous friendship in my heart efface! Where contemplation spreads her awful shade; May Heaven desert me at my latest hour! And throb with irresistible alarms. Like some full river charged with falling showers, Still o'er my breast her swelling deluge pours. But rest and silence now, who wait beside, With their strong flood-gates bar the impetuous tide. 214 А РОЕМ, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FREDERIC PRINCE OF WALES. FROM the big horror of war's hoarse alarms, Melt as they move, and fill each heart with woe: Oh! bear me to some awful silent glade * By awe, here, is meant attention. TO THE MEMORY OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 215 And hoarser winds howl murmuring thro' the grove; Where some unhappy wretch aye mourns his doom, Deep melancholy wandering through the gloom; Where solitude and meditation roam, And where no dawning glimpse of hope can come ; To speak to none but with the mighty dead: .... Hard fate! then, noble Frederic, didst thou die : The approaching summer ne'er on earth to see ; Ye powers! and must a prince so noble die? R Yes, fate has doom'd! his soul now leaves its weight, And all are under the decree of fate; The irrevocable doom of destiny Pronounced," All mortals must submissive die." Through perpetuity's expanse he springs; And o'er the vast profound he shoots on wings: |