"Here rests his head upon the lap of earth "A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: "Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, "And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

"Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, "Heav'n did a recompence as largely send: "He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear; "He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

"No farther seek his merits to disclose, "Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, "(There they alike in trembling hope repose) "The bosom of his father and his G.o.d.

ON THE DEATH OF

FREDERIC PRINCE OF WALES.

WRITTEN AT PARIS, BY DAVID LORD VISCOUNT

STORMONT, OF CH. CH. OXON.

Little I whilom deem'd my artless zeal Should woo the British Muse in foreign land To strains of bitter argument, and teach The mimic Nymph, that haunts the winding verge And oozy current of Parisian Seine, To syllable new sounds in accents strange.

But sad occasion calls: who now forbears The last kind office? who but consecrates His off'ring at the shrine of fair Renown To gracious FREDERIC rais'd; tho' but compos'd Of the waste flourets, whose neglected hues Chequer the lonely hedge, or mountain slope?

Where are those hopes, where fled th' illusive scenes That forgeful fancy plan'd, what time the bark Stem'd the salt wave from Albion's chalky bourn?

Then filial Piety and parting Love Pour'd the fond pray'r; "Farewell, ye less'ning cliffs, "Fairer to me, than ought in fabled song "Or mystic record told of sh.o.r.es Atlantic!

"Favour'd of heav'n, farewell! imperial isle, "Native to n.o.blest wits, and best approv'd "In manly science, and advent'rous deed!

"Celestial Freedom, by rude hand estrang'd "From regions once frequented, with Thee takes "Her stedfast station, fast beside the throne "Of scepter'd Rule, and there her state maintains "In social concord, and harmonious love.

"These blessings still be thine, nor meddling fiend "Stir in your busy streets foul Faction's roar; "Still thrive your growing works, and gales propitious "Visit your sons who ride the watry waste; "And still be heard from forth your gladsome bow'rs "Shrill tabor-pipes, and ev'ry peaceful sound.

"Nor vain the wish, while GEORGE the golden scale "With steady prudence holds, and temp'rate sway.

"And when his course of earthly honours run, "With lenient hand shall FREDERIC sooth your care, "Rich in each princely quality, mature "In years, and happiest in nuptial choice.

"Thence too arise new hopes, a playful troop "Circles his hearth, sweet pledges of that bed, "Which Faith, and Joy, and thousand Virtues guard.

"His be the care t' inform their ductile minds "With worthiest thoughts, and point the ways of honour.

"How often shall he hear with fresh delight "Their earnest tales, or watch their rising pa.s.sions "With timorous attention; then shall tell "Of justice, fort.i.tude and public weal, "And oft the while each rigid precept smooth "With winning tokens of parental love!"

Thus my o'erweening heart the secret stores Of Britain's hope explor'd, while my strain'd sight Pursued her fading hills, till wrapt in mist They gently sunk beneath the swelling tide.

Nor slept those thoughts, whene'er in other climes I mark'd the cruel waste of foul oppression, Saw n.o.blest spirits, and goodliest faculties, To va.s.salage and loathsome service bound.

Then conscious preference rose; then northward turn'd My eye, to gratulate my natal soil.

How have I chid with froward eagerness Each veering blast, that from my hand witheld The well known characters of some lov'd friend, Tho' distant, not unmindful? Still I learn'd Delighted, what each patriot plan devis'd Of arts, or glory, or diffusive commerce.

Nor wanted its endearment every tale Of lightest import. But oh! heavy change, What notices come now? Distracted scenes Of helpless sorrow, solemn sad accounts; How fair AUGUSTA watch'd the weary night Tending the bed of anguish; how great GEORGE Wept with his infant progeny around; How heav'd the orphan's and the widow's sigh, That follow'd FREDERIC to the silent tomb.

For well was FREDERIC lov'd; and well deserv'd: His voice was ever sweet, and on his steps Attended ever the alluring grace Of gentle lowliness and social zeal.

Him shall remember oft the labour'd hind, Relating to his mates each casual act Of courteous bounty. Him th' artificer, Plying the varied woof in sullen sadness, Tho' wont to carrol many a ditty sweet.

Soon too the mariner, who many moons Has counted, beating still the foamy surge, And treads at last the wish'd-for beach, shall stand Appall'd at the sad tale, and soon shall steal Down his rough cheek th' involuntary tear.

Be this our solace yet, all is not dead; The bright memorial lives: for his example Shall Hymen trim his torch, domestic praise Be countenanc'd, and virtue fairer shew.

In age succeeding, when another GEORGE, To ratify some weighty ordinance Of Britain's peers conven'd, shall pa.s.s beside Those hallowed spires, whose gloomy vaults enclose, Shrouded in sleep, pale rows of scepter'd kings, Oft to his sense the sweet paternal voice And long-remember'd features shall return; Then shall his generous breast be new inflam'd To acts of highest worth, and highest fame.

These plaintive strains from ALBION far away, I lonely meditate at even-tide; Nor skill'd nor studious of the raptur'd lay; But still remembring oft the magic sounds, Well-measur'd to the chime of Dorian lute, Or past'ral stop, which erst I lov'd to hear On ISIS' broider'd mead, where dips by fits The stooping osier in her hasty stream.

Hail WOLSEY'S s.p.a.cious dome! hail, ever fam'd For faithful nurture, and truth's sacred lore, Much honour'd parent! You my duteous zeal Accept, if haply in thy laureat wreath You deign to interweave this humble song.

ON THE SAME.

BY MR. JAMES c.l.i.tHEROW OF ALL SOULS COLL.

I.

'Twas on the evening of that gloomy day, When FREDERIC, ever lov'd, and ever mourn'd, (Such heav'n's high will, and who shall disobey?) To earth's cold womb in holy pomp return'd:

II.

With sullen sounds, the death-denouncing bell Proclaim'd aloud the dismal tale of woe, The pealing organ join'd the solemn knell, In mournful notes, majestically slow.

III.

The full-voic'd choir, in stoles of purest white, With frequent pause, the soul-felt anthem raise; While o'er the walls in darkest sable dight, A thousand tapers pour'd their holy blaze.

IV.

In high devotion wrapt, the mitred sage, With energy sublime, the rites began; While tears from every s.e.x, and every age, Bewail'd the prince, the father, and the man.

V.

"Who, when our sov'reign liege to fate shall yield, "Shall prop, like him, Britannia's falling state?

"Who now the vengeful sword of justice wield, "Or ope, like him, sweet Mercy's golden gate?

VI.

"Who shall to Arts their pristine honours bring, "Rear from the dust fair Learning's laurell'd head, "Or bid rich commerce plume her daring wing?

"Arts, Learning, Commerce are in FREDERIC dead.

VII.

"Who now shall tend, with fond, paternal care, "The future guardians of our faith and laws?

"Who teach their b.r.e.a.s.t.s with patriot worth to dare, "And die with ardour, in Britannia's cause?

VIII.

"And who, ah! who, with soft endearing lore, "Shall sooth, like him, the royal mourner's breast?

"Her lord, her life, her FREDERIC is no more."-- Deep groans and bitter wailings speak the rest.

IX.

Then, when at length the awful scene was clos'd, And dust to dust in holy hope consign'd; All to their silent homes their steps dispos'd, To feed on solitary woe the mind;

X.