And to the great all-bounteous Source of good. 185
His sympathizing heart itself receiv'd
The generous obligation he bestow'd.
This, this indeed, is patronizing worth.
Their kind protector him the Muses own,
But scorn with noble pride the boafted aid
Of tasteless Vanity's insulting hand.
The gracious stream that cheers the letter'd world,
Is not the noify gift of fummer's noon,
Whofe fudden current from the naked root
Washes the little foil which yet remain'd,
And only more dejects the blushing flowers:
No, 'tis the soft-descending dews at eve,
The filent treasures of the vernal year,
Indulging deep their stores the still night long,
Till, with returning morn, the freshen'd world 200
Is fragrance all, all beauty, joy, and fong.
Still let me view him in the pleasing light Of private life, where pomp forgets to glare, And where the plain unguarded foul is feen. There, with that trueft greatness he appear'd, 20g Which thinks not of appearing; kindly veil'd
In the soft graces of the friendly scene,
Inspiring focial confidence and ease:
As free the converse of the wife and good,
As joyous, difentangling every power,
And breathing mix'd improvement with delight,
As when amid the various-blossom'd spring,
Or gentle-beaming autumn's pensive shade,
The philofophic mind with Nature talks.
Say ye, his Sons! his dear Remains! with whom 215
The father laid superfluous state afide,
Yet rais'd your filial duty thence the more,
With friendship rais'd it, with esteem, with love,
Beyond the ties of blood, oh! speak the joy,
The pure serene, the cheerful wisdom mild,
The virtuous spirit, which his vacant hours,
In semblance of amusement, thro' the breast
Infus'd. And thou, O Rundle*! lend thy strain,
Thou darling friend! thou brother of his foul !
In whom the head and heart their stores unite; 225
Whatever Fancy paints, Invention pours,
Judgment digests, the well-tun'd bosom feels,
Truth natural, moral, or divine, has taught,
The Virtues dictate, or the Muses sing.
Lend me the plaint which, to the lonely main, 230
With Memory conversing, you will pour,
As on the pebbled shore you, pensive, stray,
Where Derry's mountains a bleak crefcent form,
And mid their ample round receive the waves,
That from the frozen Pole refounding, rush,
Impetuous. Tho' from native funshine driven,
Driven from your friends, the sunshine of the foul,
By slanderous Zeal, and politics infirm,
Jealous of worth, yet will you bless your lot,
* Dr. Rundle, late Bishop of Derry in Ireland.
Yet will you triumph in your glorious fate, Whence Talbot's friendship glows to future times, Intrepid, warm; of kindred tempers born;
Nurs'd, by experience, into flow esteem,
Calm confidence unbounded, love not blind,
And the sweet light from mingled minds disclos'd,
From mingled chymic oils as bursts the fire.
, too, remember well that cheerful bowl
Which round his table flow'd. The serious there
Mix'd with the sportive, with the learn'd the plain;
Mirth softened wisdom, candour temper'd mirth, 250
And wit its honey lent, without the sting.
Not simple Nature's unaffected fons,
The blameless Indians, round their foreft-cheer,
In sunny lawn or shady covert set,
Hold more unspotted converse; nor, of old,
Rome's awful confuls, her Dictator-fwains,
As on the product of their Sabine farms
They far'd, with stricter virtue fed the foul:
Nor yet in Athens, at an Attic meal,
Where Socrates presided, fairer truth,
More elegant humanity, more grace,
Wit more refin'd, or deeper science, reign'd.
But far beyond the little vulgar bounds
Of family, or friends, or native land,
By just degrees, and with proportion'd flame, 265
• Extended his benevolence; a friend
To human kind, to parent Nature's works.
Of free access, and of engaging grace,
Such as a brother to a brother owes,
He kept an open judging ear for all,
And spread an open countenance, where smil'd
The fair effulgence of an open heart;
While on the rich, the poor, the high, the low,
With equal ray, his ready goodness shone:
For nothing human foreign was to him.
Thus to a dread inheritance, my Lord,
And hard to be fupported, you fucceed,
But kept by virtue, as by virtue gain'd,
It will, thro' latest time, enrich your race,
When groffer wealth shall moulder into dust, 280
And with their authors in oblivion funk
Vain titles lie, the fervile badges oft'
Of mean fubmiffion, not the meed of worth.
True genuine honour its large patent holds
Of all mankind, thro' every land and age,
Of univerfal Reason's various fons,
And even of God himself, fole perfect Judge!
Yet know these noblest honours of the mind
On rigid terms descend: the high-plac'd heir,
Scann'd by the public eye, that, with keen gaze, 290
Malignant seeks out faults, cannot thro' life,
Amid the nameless infects of a court,
Unheeded steal; but, with his fire compar'd,
He must be glorious, or he must be fcorn'd.
This truth to you, who merit well to bear
A name to Britons dear, th' officious Mufe
May safely fing, and sing without referve.
Vain were the plaint, and ignorant the tear, That should a Talbot mourn. Ourselves, indeed, Our country robb'd of her delight and strength, 300 We may lament: yet let us, grateful, joy That we fuch virtues knew, such virtues felt, And feel them still, teaching our views to rife Thro' ever-bright'ning scenes of future worlds. Be dumb, ye worst of Zealots! ye that, prone 305 To thoughtless dust, renounce that generous hope, Whence every joy below its spirit draws, And every pain its balm. A Talbot's light, A Talbot's virtues, claim another fource Than the blind maze of undesigning blood; Nor when that vital fountain plays no more,
Can they be quench'd amid the gelid stream.
Methinks I fee his mounting spirit, freed From tangling earth, regain the realms of day, Its native country, whence, to bless mankind, 315 Eternal Goodness on this darksome spot
Had ray'd it down a while. Behold! approv'd
By the tremendous Judge of heaven and earth,
And to th' Almighty Father's prefence join'd,
He takes his rank, in glory and in blifs,
Amid the human worthies. Glad around
Crowd his compatriot shades, and point him out,
With joyful pride, Britannia's blameless boaft.
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