Who, in courtship greatly fped,
Wins the damfel to his bed,
Bears the virgin-prize away,
Counting life one nuptial day!
For the dark-brown dusk of hair,
Shadowing thick thy forehead fair,
Down the veiny temples growing,
O'er the floping fhoulders flowing,
And the fmoothly pencil'd brow,
Mild to him in every vow,
And the fringed lid below,
Thin as thinneft bloffoms blow,
And the hazely-lucid eye,
Whence heart-winning glances fly,
And that cheek of health, o'erfpread
With foft-blended white and red,
And the witching fimiles which break
Round thofe lips, which fweetly speak,
And thy gentleness of mind,
Gentle from a gentle kind,
Thefe endowments, heavenly dower!
Brought him in the promis'd hour,
Shall for ever bind him to thee,
Shall renew him ftill to woo thee.
On the DEATH of the RIGHT HONOURABLE
WILLIAM EARL COWPER. 1723.
STROPHE I.
WAKE the British harp again,
To a fad melodious ftrain;
Wake the harp, whofe every ftring,
When Halifax refign'd his breath,
Accus'd inexorable death;
For I, once more, muft in affliction fing,
One fong of forrow more beftow,
The burden of a heart o'ercharg'd with woe:
Yet, O my foul, if aught may bring relief,
Full many, grieving, fhall applaud thy grief,
The pious verfe, that Cowper does deplore,
Whom all the boafted powers of verfe cannot restore.
Not to her, his fondest care,
Not to his lov'd offspring fair,
Nor his country ever dear,
From her, from them, from Britain torn:
With her, with them, does Britain mourn :
His name, from every eye, calls forth a tear ;
And, intermingling, fighs with praise,
All good men wish the number of his days
Had been to him twice told, and twice again,
In that feal'd book, where all things which pertain To mortal man, whatever things befall,
Are from eternity confirm'd, beyond recall:
E PODE I.
Where every lofs, and every gain,
Where every grief, and every joy,
Every pleasure, every pain,
Each bitter, and each fweet alloy,
To us uncertain though they flow,
Are pre-ordain'd, and fix'd, above.
Too wretched state, did man foreknow
Thofe ills, which man cannot remove!
Vain is wisdom for preventing
What the wisest live lamenting.
STROPHE II.
Hither fent, who knows the day
When he fhall be call'd away?
Various is the term affign'd :
An hour, a day, fome months, or years,
The breathing foul on earth appears:
But, through the fwift fucceffion of mankind,
Swarm after swarm! a bufy race,
The ftrength of cities, or of courts the grace,
Or who in camps delight, or who abide
Diffus'd o'er lands, or float on oceans wide,
Of them, though many here long-lingering dwell, And fee their children's children, yet, how few excel! 46
Here we come, and hence we go,
Shadows paffing to and fro,
Seen a while, forgotten foon:
But thou, to fair diftin&tion born,
Thou, Cowper, beamy in the morn
Of life, still brightening to the pitch of noon,
Scarce verging to the fteep decline,
Hence fummon'd while thy virtues radiant shine,
Thou fingled out the fofterling of fame,
Secure of praife, nor lefs fecur'd from blame,
Shalt be remember'd with a fond applaufe,
So long as Britons own the fame indulgent laws.
United in one public weal,
Rejoicing in one freedom, all,
Cowper's hand apply'd the feal,
And level'd the partition-wall.
The chofen feeds of great events
Are thinly fown, and flowly rife :
And Time the harveft-fcythe prefents,
In feafon, to the good and wife:
Hymning to the harp my ftory,
Fain would I record his glory.
STROPHE III.
Pouring forth, with heavy heart,
Truth unleaven'd, pare of art,
Like the hallow'd Bard of yore,
Who chaunted in authentic rhymes
The worthies of the good old times,
Ere living vice in verte was varnish'd o'er,
And virtue died without a fong.
Support of friendless right, to powerful wrong
A check, behold him in the judgment-feat!
Twice, there, approv'd, in righteousness compleat:
In just awards, how gracious! tempering law
With mercy, and reproving with a winning awe.
ANTISTROPHE III.
By foft alarms, and with a gentle force prevails!
E PODE III.
To fuch perfuafion, willing, yields
The liberal mind, in freedom train'd,
Freedom, which, in crimfon'd fields,
By hardy toil our fathers gain'd,
|