\ o: o; \ I : 9 ; ; Kenrick Monody to ^1;Jie memory of his Royal Highness Frederick, ^ prince of Wales THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD ENDOWMENT FUND ■(i|C3 'uo4H30iS — -— - HIONia UIMdWVd MONODY To the MEMORY of His Royal Highness F R E D E R I C K PRINCE of WALES, M O N D Y To the MEMORY of His Royal Highness FREDERICK PRINCE of tVALES. By W. K E N R I C K. /, Decus^ /, nojlnun : melioribus utere Fat is. Virgil. LONDON: Printed for F. Stamper and E. Down'ham, in Popes-Head Alle\\ Cornhill; J. Robinson, m Ludgate-Jlrect ; and R. Wilson, Book- feller to tlis Royal Highnefs the Duke, in Pall- Mall. 1751. [Price One Shilling.] To the Right Honourable f>f^ 3 5-B^ The Countefs of Middlesex/' MADAM, AS nothing but your long-known Attachment to Her Royal Highness the Princefs of JVALES^ and your prefent Veneration for the Memory of fo Excellent a Prince as His late Highness, could aiTord even a Shadow of Excufe for my Prefumption, in direding this Piece to your Ladyfhip ; fo nothing but your equally diftin- guiflied Goodnefs and Condefcenfion could have given me the leaft Hope of that Honour, your Approbation and Ac- ceptance of it has conferred on one of fo little Confequence in the Literary World, as, M A D A M, Your Ladyship's Majl Ohfequious^ And moji Obliged f Humble Servant, William Kenrick. 8tS53i6 [s] =2: ■*Mi^MMM«ta MONODY. T S there a Son who holds his Father dear, •*■ And fails to mourn the tender Parent's Fall ! Is there a Briton fails to fhed a Tear ! A general Parent fhould be mourn'd by all. FREDERICK is dead Is there a Lyre unftrung? Is there a Note that cannot make us weep ? Is filent now the Bard that e'er has fung, Or can the Mufes with their Patron fleep ? B Ah [6] Ah no ! Am I the loweft of the Throng, The meaneft, youngef}, Stranger to Applaufe ; The Name of Briton juftifies the Song, •■ r -■ , t Whoever iings, in Virtue's facred Caufe. o _ . Hid, where the hopeful promife of the Year Smil'd o'er the rural Scene, a kind Retreat, Death's frofty Sound firft chill'd my ftartled Ear, And ftole the Sweetnefs from each rifing Sweet. The Morning's Eye peep'd o'er the diftant Plain, The budding Grove entic'd mine early Way, Slowly a-field lagg'd on the liftlefs Swain, Loft to the Whiftle and the wonted Lay. Each [7] • Each to his Friend pour'd out the Soul fincere, Each Friend his equal Sorrow doth impart ; . While the fad Pleafure of a focial Tear Befpoke the Burden of an honefl: Heart. Aged and bending to his fturdy Plant, (His 'Toil fcarce leiTen'd in his Ninetieth Year, His only Staff to beat off barking Wa?it) Hard by, an hoary Swain flood mute with Care. A heaving Sigh at length his Silence broke, When thus the good old Man Ist truCy my Frie7idf (A Flood of Tears came gufhing as he fpoke) Say Is it true our Hopes have fee7i their End? His [8] Hh Grandjtre died- — / long did rue the Day And is indeed the Pride of Brlttain gone f I look'd Reply He felt what I would fay, Turn'd Eye to Heav'n, and droop'd, and plodded on. Ah me ! thought I, whene'er a good Man dies, If diftant Mourners can fuch Griefs reveal, What are the Pangs of Souls in nearer Ties, Or what muft Scie?ice and her Dausfhters feci 1 Loft to myfelf, I made the Turf my Seat, In Conte7nplations lonely, lowly Plight ; While Fancy ftole away, with trembling Feet, And brought the Height of Mifcry to my Sight, A [ 9 ] A pallid CoiTe, a lifelefs, brcathlefs Thing, But Yefterday a Nation's gloried Pride, But Yefterday the more than half a King, Lefs than a Man To-day, and caft in Death afide. Ambition weeps but flow a richer Tear. The kindeft Father, Hufband, Brother, Son, In ev'ry Tye, in each Relation dear, Lov'd, prais'd, and honour'd, is for ever gone. Behold Aiigiijia^ leaning o'er her Lord, As when flie footh'd his bitter Hours of Pain, Return his laft fond Look and parting Word, As if the tender Call would lure him back again. But [ 1° ] But ah ! it wo'not be yet fee her ftand, The living Statue of extreme Defpair; Death in her Eye, grip'd faft each wringing Hand, She bleeds at Heart, but cannot flied a Tear. Befide her, fee her early budding Joys, The prattling Hopes of many an happy Year, A little lovely Train of Girls and Boys, That feel a Father's Death and tender Mother's Care. Round her they cling their little Hands, in Tears, Afking the Voice of Comfort, her's no more. Mifery fo exquifite Augiijia bears : Her Heart, too great to burft, was full, too full before. Thus [ ■! ] Thus fits AfliSiioit In her Widow's V/eeds, Doom'd QM\y Hope and Pleafiire to forego : Her weeping Children ftab the Heart that bleeds, And fvvcll her Portion in the Cup of Woe. Fix'd like the Marble of fome Mafter Hand, Behold, whofe Features fpeak the nobleft Mind, The Man compos'd to Heav'n's fupreme Command, To each fevereft, deadlieft Stroke refign'd. Bent on the flriking Scene his Parent Eye, Strong Sympathy his Nature yet reveals : He melts, he mixes with the Infant's Cry, And feels the Pangs the widow'd Mother feels. [ '2 ] A wlille the Hero joins the Man again, By fo much more the virtuous by a Tear. Wlio could not feel a Father's tender'ft Pain, Could ne'er the Sorrows of a Nation bear. Behold a Brother for a Brother mourn, Rich with a Soldier's Heart that cannot lie. See the fad Sifters, round the facred Urn, Pour the laft Tribute of a painful Sigh. Faft by, of weeping Friends a num'rous Train, Whofe happier Lot had plac'd their early Scat, Where ev'n a Flatt'rcr might have fu'd in vain ; And only who was good, was lov'd as great. Where [ '3 ] Where Pleafure fmird the wretched but to blefs, The Debt of Love or Pity but to pay j Where lavifh Bounty Hft'ned to Diftrefs, Slighted herfelf, and gave her All away. This was a Court and Men were here fincere ; Here ev'ry honeft Man might find a Friend ; Fair Science^ early, found her Patron here. Look where he lies for there the Scene muft end. Come now, chill Fancy ! trail thy Mourners here, Lead on thy Train in flow and folemn Plight j Bear hence away this fad, untimely Bier, Mute as the Breath of Silence in the Dead of Night. D Here [ '4] Here, Brittains Genius here thy Sorrows bring ; Here let thy righteous Tears in Juflice flow. (O were I taught to touch the Mafter String, That might awake a Nation into Woe.) Lo ! where fhe fits lamenting, by the Way, Like Pity, mourning for her firft-born Child ; Her Robes of Royalty to Duft a Prey, And her bare Breaft by Hatred's Hand defil'd. Lo ! where the Hufband of her better Years, . The little Comfort, all he has, would part. (A King is wedded to a Nation's Cares, And all his Subjeds fhould be Sons at Heart.) In [ IS ] In vain he brings the Flatterer of her Joys, And tells of Infant Smiles to footh Defpair ; A Scene more diftant all her Soul employs. Far lefs the Pains we feel than thofe we fear. Hail ! drooping Genius of our Nation ! Hail ! O let me mix my kindred Tears with thine ! Speak all thy Fears I'll liften to the Tale, And every gloomy Profpedl /hall be mine. Lean on my Arm, and I will lead the Way, Where fcarce a Dawn of Hope fhall find us out, Where, looking forward to feme future Day, Sit longing ExpeSiation and her Sifter Doubt. Come [ i6] Come on, fair Mourner, let us travel here, Where, at the Entrance of pale Hof^rors Cave, Sits the cold Portrefs, trembling haggard Fear, Who points her wafted Finger tow'rd the Grave. Mark on her Breaft the Phantom of Defpair, A crawling Toad that flares with Blood-fliot Eye, That, fwelt'ring, gnaws her bleeding Bofom bare. And fucks the Heart that would, but camiot, die \ Hard by, a ftrange fantaftic Group appear, Wan Cowardice, each Moment changing Seat j Weak Appreheftfan, pricked in the Rear, And fober Melancholy, Mother of Conceit. Come, t '7 ] Come, fad Br'ittanma I here, without ControuJ, (Yet woe the Day that makes the^orrors Gueft ! ) Pour out the dire Prefages of thy Soul, And found the Depth of Mis'ry in thy Breaft. Look now, where tip-toed Fear, with fhiv'ring Lips, Has turn'd the Key, and wide her Portal ftands ; Quick Apprehenfto7i in before us trips, And bids us follow with her beck'ning Hands. Look, Brittain\ Genius look, and view the Scene; Behold anticipated all your Fears, Where, high exalted o'er the Sons of Men, Your Lord declines adown the Vale of Years* E Clofe [ i8] Clofe to his Side, the DarHng of his Race, Faft holding to the |Iand by which he's led, Is learning how the rugged Ways to trace, The Paths of Royalty, fo difficult to tread. E*er long, perhaps, himfelf to track the Way^ To wind its fteep Afcent and fudden Fall ; How eafy 'tis the narrow Path to ftray ! How hard one erring Footftep to recall ! Ah ! fee Britannia^ Providence commands. And low, thy Soverejg7is leveFd in the Duft. Shock'd with the Stroke, his tender Pupil flands. And to his tott'ring Feet can hardly dare to truft. Behold [ 19] Behold him now purfiie the Tafk alone : Ten thoufand friendly Foes around him prcfs ; Ev'n yice^ in heav'nly Form, befets the Throne ; And fervile Flatiry in Submijftons Drefs. Hark ! Adulation fooths his lift'ning Ear ; Bewitching Beauty drops the Iangui£h'd Eye ; Deiigning Pleafure throws her filken Snare ; And mean Effeminacy loiters foftly by. Curfe on their Ipecious and deluiive Art, That waves his pliant Virtue to and fro, That plucks fair budding Honour from his Heart, And finks a Kingdom into lafting Woe. O [ 20] turn Britiannia ! turn thine Eyes away ! Far let us leave, behind, this cruel Scene. 1 ken the Dawning of an happier Day, That yet may fmile unclouded and ferene. Lo ! where fhe comes, commiilion'd from on High, Swift on the Wind her Silver Chariot driv'n. Fair fmiling Hope^ the Wifh of ev'ry Eye, The darling Good of Men and fweeteil Child of Heav'n. She draws the Veil wide over flirinking Fear : Daftard lllufwn from her Prefence flies ; Hid is the ugly Head of dire Defpair ; And placid all the Scene as Summer's Evening Skies. She f SI ] she brings, pourtray'd, the Balm to Sorrow's Smart, Where ftands the Infant Copy of his Sire, Trac*d in the niceft Touches of the Heart, The Patriot's Virtue and the Hero's Fire. Led by a Monarch's tender Parent Arm, (Long fpar'd in Mercy, at a Nation's Prayer) Or nurs'd by Virtue^ in a Mother s Form, He lives a Recompence to all their Care. He lives his Father's better Steps to trace, To glow his perfed Image in our Eye, To fhine the Glory of a Sovereign Race, To win the Love o^ Ally and then perhaps, to die. F O C "] O what a Thought ! Where is the flatt'ring Scene I Alas! the bright, enchanting Profpe6t's fled ! Deceitful Hope ! Fear yet controuls within, And bids me ftill to mourn that FREDERICK'^ dead. Yet fliall my Song not dare to fpcak his Praife, Nor need my feeble Breath to found his Fame ; His Virtues be the Theme of future Days : For Ages yet to come shall sing of FREDERICK'S Name. FINIS, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORMA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. ^. ;f^^ 4 71 ^^n il MAR 3 11975 WlAY 1 7 197^ im Form L9-50m-7,'54(5990)4 44 THE LIBRART .NIVEUKITY OF ^'M^ ^' 7 tsp*