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 On the Much Lamented Death of the 
 ilarquis of Tavistock 
 
 iiiiiiiiiyi ■
 
 L.'':^?//. ^/^^^x 
 
 O N 
 
 THE MUCH LAMENTED 
 
 A T H 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ARQ^uis of TAVISTOCK. 
 
 Su7tt lacrymce ?'erm?i, et iiieiitem mart alia tangunt. Virg. 
 
 The SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for J. D o d s l e y in Pail-Mall. 
 MDCCLXVIl.
 
 33/4 
 
 r-i '■ f 
 
 O N 
 
 THE MUCH LAMENTED 
 
 DEATH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Marcluis of TAVISTOCK. 
 
 • Virtuous Youth ! 
 
 Thank Heav'n, I knew thee not — I ne'er fhall feel 
 The keen Regret thy drooping Friends fuftain ; 
 Yet will I drop the fympathizing Tear, 
 And this laft Tribute to thy Memory bring; 
 Not that thy noble Birth provokes my Song, 
 Or claims fuch Offering from the Mufes Slirine ; 
 But that thy fpotlefs undiffembhng Heart, 
 
 B 
 
 ' 890830
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 '1 hy unafFecled Manners, all-iinftain'd 
 
 With Pride of PowV, and Infolence of Wealth j 
 
 Thy Probity, Benevolence, and Truth, 
 
 (Beft Inmates of Man's Soul) for ever loft, 
 
 Cropt, like fair Flow'rs, in Life's meridian Bloom, 
 
 Fade undiflinguifli'd in the jGilent Grave. 
 
 O Bedford ! — pardon, if a Mufe unknown, 
 Smit with thy Heart-felt Grief, directs her Way 
 To Sorrow's dark Abode, where Thee fhe views, 
 Thee, wretched Sire, and pitying, hears Thee mourn 
 Thy Russel's Fate — " Why was He thus belov'd ? 
 " Why did he blefs my Life?" — Fond Parent, ceafe; 
 Count not his Virtues o'er — Hard Tafk ! — Call forth 
 Thy firm hereditary Strength of Mind. 
 Lo ! where the Shade of thy great Anceftor, 
 Farn'd Russel ftands, and chides thy vain Complaint 
 His pliilofophic Soul, with Patience arm'd,
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 And Chriftian Virtue, brav'd the Pangs of Death ; 
 Admir'dj belov'd. He dy'd; (if right I deem), 
 Not more lamented than thy virtuous Son : 
 Yet cahn thy Mind ; fo may the lenient Hand 
 Of Time, all-foothing Time, thy Pangs affvvage, 
 Heal thy fad Wound, and clofe thy Days in Peace, 
 
 See where the Obje<fl of liis filial Love, 
 His Mother, loft in Tears, laments his Doom : 
 
 Speak Comfort to her Soul : 
 
 O ! from the facred Fount, where flow the Streams 
 
 Of heav'nly Confolation, O ! one Drop, 
 
 To footh his haplefs Wife ! {harp Sorrow preys 
 
 Upon her tender Frame — Alas, flie faints, — 
 
 She falls ! ftill grafping in her Hand 
 
 The Pidure of her Lord — All-gracious Heav'n I 
 
 Juft are thy Ways, and righteous thy Decrees, 
 
 But dark and intricate ; elfe why this Meed
 
 ( ^ ) 
 
 For tender faithful Love ; this {iid Return 
 
 For InnoceRce and Truth ? Was it for this 
 
 By Virtue and the fmiHng Graces led, 
 
 (Fair Types of long fucceeding Years of Joy), 
 
 She twin'd the votive Wreath at Hymen's Shrine, 
 
 So foon to fade and die ? — Yet O ! refled", 
 
 'Chafte Partner of his Life ! you ne'er deplor'd 
 
 His alienated Heart : (difaftrous State ! 
 
 Condition worfe than Death !) the facred Torcli 
 
 .Burnt to the laft its unremitted Fires ! 
 
 No painful felf-r eproach haft thou to feel , 
 
 The confcious Thought of every Duty paid, 
 
 This fvveet Reiledlion fhall fupjwrt thy Mind, 
 
 Be this thy Comfort: — Turn thine Eyes a vvhik, 
 
 Nor with that lifelefs Picture feed thy Woe ; 
 
 Turn yet thine Eyes ■; fee hovv^ they court thy Smiles, 
 
 Thofe infant Pledges of connubial Joy ! 
 
 Dwell on their Looks,— and trace his Image there :
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 And O ! fmce Heav'n, in Pity to tliy Lofs, 
 For Thee one future Biciling has in Store, 
 Cheriih that tender Hope — Hear Reafon's Voice ; 
 Hu£h'd be the Storms that vex thy troubled Breafi:, 
 And Angels guard Thee in the Hour of Pain. 
 Accept this ardent Pray'r ; a Mufe forgiv^c, 
 Who for thy Sorrow draws the penfive Sigh, 
 Who feels thy Grief, tho' erft in frolic Hour 
 She tun'd her comic Rhymes to Mirth and Joy, 
 Unfkill'd (I ween) in lofty Verle, unus'd 
 To plaintive Strains, yet by foft Pity led, 
 Trembling revilits the Pierian Vale ; 
 There culls each fragrant Flow'r, to deck the Tomb 
 Where generous Russel lies. 
 
 FINIS,
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 T'Nn'^ERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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