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 THE 
 
 FILIAL TRIBUTE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BULMER AND CO 
 CLEVELAND ROW. 
 
 1807.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 Simplicity Affliction's Eloquence - - - l 
 
 On the miraculous and bless'd Recoveiy of a Dear Mother's 
 
 precious Life at an advanc'd Age 
 The Filial Prayer .... 5 
 
 The Filial Muse - - - - 
 
 On the Fall of a Bath Urn from its Pedestal, May, 1805 7 
 The Filial Choice - - , - 
 
 On the Beauties of Spring, of the Weather, and of the 
 Scene, upon the very Day, on which the Angel-Mother 
 expired _ - . - - 11 
 
 Inscribed on a votive Tablet, and consecrated with filial 
 Affection to the Memory of the Angel- Mother, who 
 was claimed by Heaven, May the 17th, I807 - 14 
 
 Upon Tears, and the incapacity of shedding them when I 
 had lost my dear Mother at an advanced period of my 
 own Life - - - - - ig 
 
 IVritten just after the Funeral, and which 1 attended as 
 
 Chief Mourner - - - - 18 
 
 To the Inkstand of the Angel-Mother, presented by two 
 
 lov'd Sisters to me - - - 20 
 
 On being told that I should never see my lost Mother 
 
 again. - . . - - 23 
 
 The Angel-Mother's Heaven - 26 
 
 To Amelia, who commended my filial Tributes to the 
 
 Angel-Mother - . - - 28 
 
 Christian Joy . . ... 3^ 
 
 811908
 
 ii CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 ** Unpresuming;" an epithet in my dear Mother's character, 
 as it was drawn by one of het female Relations in a most 
 eloquent Letter upon the Subject of her Death - - 32 
 The Fifth Commandment - - - - 35 
 
 The Tomb of Despair - - - 37 
 
 Hail and Farewell ! ...-.-.sg 
 
 Epitaph ......... 40
 
 THE 
 
 FILIAL TRIBUTE. 
 
 SIMPLICITY 
 affliction's eloquence. 
 
 -N ATURE, must the pearl endear 
 Of the Elegiac tear ; 
 Feelings can alone inspire 
 Tones of the pathetic Lyre ; 
 They, must form its vital string, 
 Thei/ must guide its ruffl'd wing. 
 On a pedant mourner's lay, 
 Ridicule and Satire play ; 
 B
 
 [2] 
 
 Wreckt on the sepulchral theme, 
 Laughter's* jest and Folly's dream, 
 Wit, and Fancy, could not save 
 Cowley* from oblivion's grave. 
 In their Elegies entomb'd 
 Waller slept, and Pope was doom'd. 
 Art, insults the tear no more : 
 Grief, must other aid implore ; 
 And Simplicity alone. 
 Sheds the dew, or strikes the tone. 
 Which to Nature, and the heart, 
 Love, and Sorrow, can impart. 
 
 * See JbATUon's just, and keen satire upon bim.
 
 [3] 
 
 On the miraculous and bless'd Recovery of 
 
 A DEAR MOTHER'S PRECIOUS LIFE 
 
 At an advanc'd Age. 
 
 Oh Thou, whose gale, of chilling breath, 
 Can freeze the veins, benumb'd in death, 
 And Thou, whose mercy can reveal 
 The pow'r to save, the balms that heal, 
 Accept, on thy celestial throne, 
 The hearts, which flew to thee alone. 
 When ghastly Terror glar'd around, 
 And smote the desolated ground. 
 Presenting as in storms thy face, 
 And gloom to a devoted Race ; 
 Accept the joy, that words degrade, 
 In wonder lost, and breathless made !
 
 [4] 
 
 Be thy uplifted ami ador'd, 
 For life, to virtue's claim restored, 
 Whose pure, and gentle current, strove 
 To follow a Redeemer's Love ! 
 Dispel the night, and speed the ray, 
 Of glowing health's Autumnal day; 
 Avert the menac'd Winter's doom ! 
 And bid the shaft suspend its doom 1
 
 [5] 
 
 THE 
 
 FILIAL PRAYER. 
 
 Ye Guardian Angels, who discover 
 How dearly all her Children love her, 
 Oh listen to the filial pray'r, 
 And shield her, with a Mothers care ! 
 
 To charm, as long as breath endures. 
 The pow'r is hers, the gift is yours : 
 Grant, for it's all that we implore, 
 Her life, till she is lov'd no more !
 
 ffi] 
 
 THE 
 
 FILIAL MUSE. 
 
 JMy heart, with joy, no Indian slave 
 
 Its^lial tribute, proudly gave ; 
 
 The Muses came, and whisper'd thus; 
 
 ' A Mother's rights, are debts to us : 
 
 ** If jealous of a poet's name, 
 
 " Abjure not the Maternal claim ; 
 
 " Nor blush, the feelings to display, 
 
 " Which Cowper* shar'd with Pope* and Gray."* 
 
 The coincidence between these poets in the ardour of 
 their filial affection to their Mother, is curious, and pleasing.
 
 [7] 
 
 ON THE FALL OF 
 
 A BATH URN FROM ITS PEDESTAL,* 
 
 May, 1805. 
 
 All that breathes, and all that lives. 
 
 Are the Heralds of decay ; 
 Art is eloq\ient, and gives 
 
 Hints of death, as well as they : 
 
 From its pedestal is torn, 
 
 Broke into a mould'ring heap, 
 
 Sculpture, that a mass had borne, 
 
 Like the rock, that stems the deep 
 
 Vain is now its Grecian form ; 
 
 Vain the chizzel's flowing art ; 
 Such is Nature'?, pelting storm ; 
 
 Youth must fly, and Beauty part. 
 
 * It fell at my dear Mother's Country-scat in Kent.
 
 [8] 
 
 These, alone, were Man to lose, 
 
 He'd lament, but he'd survive, 
 
 In expanded hopes, and views, 
 To enjoyment yet alive, 
 
 But the loss, he cannot bear, 
 
 Is of Nature's^/ia/ prize ; 
 And the tears are of despair, 
 
 When the Angel-mother dies.* 
 
 * This title had been conferr'd upon my incomparable 
 Mother, by me, for several years before we had the misfor- 
 tune to lose her.
 
 19 J 
 
 THE 
 
 FILIAL CHOICE. 
 
 Death ! if, between us, it's the doom, 
 That one shall drop into the tomb, 
 From Time's account, her spirit free ! 
 But aim the destin'd shaft at me ! 
 Nor from its Jilial shrine remove 
 The jewel of a Mother's love ! 
 
 She is, of all I lov'd, the last ; 
 With pray'rs to thee, I hold her fast : 
 The livmg death, fills me with dread, 
 Not the dark ^'chamber of the dead." * 
 The living death, in such a world. 
 As me from hope's gay summits hurl'd, 
 And made all other Loves depart. 
 In Fortune's gale, that shifts the heart : 
 
 * Prov. chap. 27.
 
 [ 10] 
 
 One gentle voice, the mourner cheer'd ; 
 0c soothing arm, the helpless rear'd; 
 One spirit prompted me to livCf 
 And gave me courage, to forgive: 
 No sting is on the bed of death, 
 U She can bless the parting breath.
 
 [ n ] 
 
 ON 
 
 THE BEAUTIES OF SPRING, 
 OF THE WEATHER, AND OF THE SCENE,* 
 
 Upon the very Day,f on which the Angel-motmer 
 expired. 
 
 Chill'd is the hope, these gales inspire; 
 The heart, repels this vain attire ; 
 What means the landscape, with its joy ; 
 When Time that Spirit can destroy. 
 Whose wand of genius, and of taste, 
 Cheer'd into life, the barren waste, 
 And made this Fairy-land a bower, 
 Touch'd by their fascinating power ? 
 
 *It was formed, into its present beauty, out of the most unpro- 
 mising materials Her enterprizing address infused a new, and 
 lovely character into those materials; Never existed ahappier 
 image than Lord Chatham has animated with his eloquence, 
 when he assign'd the appropriate epithet of "prophetic" to the 
 eye of Taste Never existed a happier illustration of it, than here. 
 
 f It was the IJth of May.
 
 [ 12] 
 
 To mCf an insult on ray tears, 
 The Heav'n-illumin'd world appears, 
 Bereft of that enliv'ning ray, 
 Which, on the scene it form'd, could play ; 
 For love has parted from its breath, 
 And sunk into the arms of death.* 
 
 No more shall these enchantments find 
 Their living sun-beam of the mind^ 
 Calm, as the lucid Queen of night, 
 But, as the morning's radiance, bright. 
 Which never dazzled with its flame. 
 Nor vanish'd, if the tempest came.f 
 
 Yet can I scent the Earth's perfume. 
 Can see the budding flowret's bloom, 
 Can feel the Zephyr's passing gale 
 Breathe on the air its vernal sail, 
 Nor am I deaf to Philomel,! 
 Whose note can soothe regret so well. 
 
 This adverts to the calm sleep of her last breath. 
 
 + An attempt at the character of her affection to those whom 
 it cherished It was not only unimpaired, but heightened, when 
 adversity alienated other friends. 
 
 X That enchanting bird was in full song at this period.
 
 [ 13] 
 
 But, Angel'spirit, ever dear, 
 To the, I consecrate the tear : 
 Alas ! what glow can Spring impart, 
 When it feels winter at the heart ! 
 And what is Nature's charm, to mCf 
 Who last her pride, in losing thee ?
 
 [ 14] 
 
 IKSCRIBED ON A VOTIVE TABLRT, 
 And consecrated with filial Affection to the Memory of the 
 
 ANGEL-MOTHER, 
 
 Who was claimed by Heaven, May the ijth, 1807. 
 
 jMute is the oracle of peace, and love ; 
 
 No more the lips of Eloquence can move ; 
 
 Clos'd are the eyes, which never dropt in vain 
 
 A tear of sympathy, on grief, and pain ; 
 
 The heait, no more, its impulse can obey, 
 
 Fed by the intellect's aethereal ray ; 
 
 Notu are the energies, and cares, at rest. 
 
 That strung with zeal the Mother's glowing breast,. 
 
 Cares, without leisure for a selfish thought, 
 
 And blessings on the miracles, they wrought ; 
 
 In memory alone is now enshrin'd 
 
 The calculating, and sagacious mind,
 
 [15] 
 
 That made economy, its bank, and wealth, 
 Gave temperance a charm, and bloom to health, 
 Invisible to all surrounding eyes. 
 Till streams of bounty could the heart surprise. 
 
 To Heav'n, that form'd it, is her spirit fled. 
 Who under sacred banners, honour led, 
 By patient valour against Fortune steel'd 
 With no capitulating fears would yield ; 
 But when Affliction's piercing arrows came, 
 Her agonies with duty overcame, 
 And liv'd, as by a covenant of trust, 
 Born, to be wise, benevolent, and just. 
 
 Nor undistinguish'd by her Judge, and God, 
 The path, by Virtue, and Religion trod. 
 For " length of days " the circling wheel has roll'd. 
 And years, almost their century have told. 
 When, by her "children's children" still rever'd, 
 By service honour'd, and by love endear'd. 
 She gave to heav'n the task, for it was done; 
 And smil'd upon the " race that she had run."
 
 [16] 
 
 UPON TEARS, 
 
 And the incapacity of shedding them when I had lost 
 
 MY DEAREST MOTHER 
 
 At an advanced period of my own Life. 
 
 I COVET not, though **full of years" 
 The fugitive, and passing tears. 
 Those light, and perishable dews, 
 Which youth forgets, till it renews 
 Mine is the tear, which cannot weep ; 
 The sigh that's route ; the shaft that's dcep;- 
 Nor would I change these pensive hours 
 For April suns through April showers. 
 Though anguish of the heart is mine, 
 Despair itself, it can refine ; 
 Proud is the elevated grief, 
 And scorns the insult of relief; 
 Doom'd a lost jewel to deplore, 
 Which to the light returns no more,
 
 [ 17 ] 
 
 It lifts the soul, above the earth, 
 To the pure temple of its birth ; 
 Unites me to a Saint above, 
 And with devotion tempers Love.
 
 [18] 
 
 WRITTKN JUST AFTER 
 
 THE FUNERAL, 
 
 And which I attended as Chief Mourner. 
 
 Yes, I have met the awful Scene, 
 With Resignation's eye serene ; 
 Could live to see in earth descend 
 My heart's endear 'd, inspiring friend : 
 Love, that a Saint had left behind, 
 With pray'r was temper'd and refin'd. 
 
 But I have promis'd, and have sworn. 
 In sorrow's noblest form to mourn, 
 Secluded from the gazing eye, 
 And where intruders cannot spy ; 
 To mourn, as the survivour shou'd, 
 At the departure of the good ; 
 Not in those " trappings" of despair. 
 The sable garb, and scatter'd hair,
 
 [ 19] 
 
 But in the tear, " which passeth show" 
 AfHiction's hallow'd use to know ; 
 Lamenting, not, that pain's at rest, 
 And the departed Spirit blest : 
 But, that when Heav'n its inmate calls 
 The model breaks ; the mirrour falls^
 
 [ 20] 
 
 TO THE INKSTAKD 
 
 OF THE ANGEL-MOTHER, 
 
 Presented by two lov'd Sisters to me. 
 
 J3ear implement of art ; combin'd 
 With spirit of a gifted mind 
 When she whose hand is now at rest 
 Thee, ||)>its glowing service prest ! 
 
 I cherish thee, and bless the pen, 
 Which calls thee into life again 
 Oh could I emulate her thought ! 
 Could the rich mine's pure vein be caught ! 
 Her Genius only I'd implore, 
 Solicit grace of style no more ; 
 To Nature's Fountain ever trust. 
 And lay the pedant in the dust.
 
 [ 21 ] 
 
 But of all heir-looms yet enshrin'd 
 In pearls, and jewels, of the mind, 
 T/iis, would the dearest boon impart, 
 If it could prompt her style of heart ; 
 The gift, that never could enslave, 
 But threw a charm on all it gave ; 
 The temper'd mercy of advice 
 That spar'd the culprit, not the Vice ; 
 Her eloquence, of truth inspir'd. 
 And with no barren praise admir'd ; 
 Balm of the heart by pain oppress'd, 
 And moralizing, as it bless'd : 
 
 It cSnnot be : the pow'r is fled 
 And lost, as in the Ocean's bed, 
 But thou shalt guard thy master's word 
 Against the pen's vindictive sword ; 
 The piercing wounds of jealous pride; 
 Or shifted love in Fortune's tide ; 
 Against the petulance of sneer, 
 Defaming sorrow's precious tearj 
 The bitter conflict unappeas'd ; 
 The " hope deferred" -the passion teaz'd ;
 
 [22 ] 
 
 Suspicion's gloom, or Envy's dart 
 And the cold rhetoric of art : 
 For such dishonours thou art free ; 
 By whispering Aer name to me.
 
 [ 23 ] 
 
 On being told that I should never see 
 MY LOST MOTHER 
 
 AGAIN. 
 
 A^ERE hope, to be no longer mine, 
 " That spirits could with spirits joiUf 
 " That souls, on earth, to love endear'd, 
 " In death had only disappear' d ; 
 *' But, like the sun, to rise again, 
 " With all the virtues in their train," 
 Despair, would on the bed of rest 
 Enfold me in her poison'd vest ; 
 No more I'd cheaper^ human breath, 
 But cherish life, and flee from death 
 Life, can record, and Love, can paint 
 Their breathing image of the saint;
 
 [ 24 ] 
 
 Can hear the oiacle impart 
 Relief and counsel to the heart, 
 Can feel the hov'rmg Angel's glow, 
 When Spirits droop, a ray bestow. 
 
 But in what page am I to read 
 The desolated mourner's creed, 
 " That when the hand oi death can sever 
 ** The ties of love, they partybr ever ? 
 
 Mme, shall be no such Faith, as this ;- 
 Mines, the fond hope of Nature's bliss, 
 With her, in sight, with her in speech, 
 Whom no infirmities could reach, 
 Whom years forgot, in their delay. 
 And threw the dart of time away ; 
 Who, as if born for others, liv'd, 
 Nor joy more exquisite receiv'd. 
 Than to oppose the rising tear, 
 And waken hope, or banish fear. 
 
 The Soul, is after death, to'rise ; 
 That heav'n-born Spirit, never dies : 
 The lov'd on earth, in Heav'n are blest ; 
 For Heav'n is Joy ; it's more than rest :
 
 [ 25]' 
 
 Lore, is the essence of the Soul;* 
 
 They are above the Earth's controul ; 
 
 One common stream from Heav'n-f they bore ; 
 
 And where is Joy when Love's no more ? 
 
 * The fruit of the spirit is Love, St. Paul.' 
 t Love is of God. St. Paul.
 
 [25] 
 
 THE 
 
 ANGEL-MOTHER'S HEAVEN. 
 
 Of all the Pagan creeds, that man 
 Built on the soul's Elysian plan, 
 The best, for Pagan heav'n contriv'd. 
 Is that in joy Me man surviv'd ; 
 And that his pleasures upon earth 
 Found in the shades their second birth. 
 
 Perhaps, in Christian views refin'd, 
 That wreath, is" for the Saints design'd ; 
 Those hallow'd pilgrims upon earth. 
 Whose path was bright in Christian worth. 
 May as their Heavn's appropriate joy, 
 The habits of their life employ. 
 
 Then should I hope again to see 
 A mother's glance descend on me
 
 127 ] 
 
 Again, from her celestial sphere, 
 Should the angelic spirit hear. 
 And guarded by her fos'tring care, 
 Leave no access, to my despair.
 
 [ 28 ] 
 
 TO 
 
 AMELIA, 
 
 Who commended my filial Tributes to the Angel-Mother. 
 
 What Saint, or Angel, can reprove 
 Joy at her praise, that's dear to Love ! 
 A wreath surpassing all renown 
 The Nation's gift the Hero's crown : 
 From a pure fountain sprung the charm 
 That hope can bless, and fear disarm. 
 For it has made the heart its guide, 
 Nor ever stray'd from honour's pride. 
 
 Of her my solitude is proud. 
 Though careless of the fame that's loud. 
 No babbling Echos hear the sound; 
 The air it breathes, no wind has found ; 
 No secret shall its tale impart. 
 It whispers only to the heart.
 
 [ 29 J 
 
 But impotent is that relief ' 
 
 Against ihejilial mourner's grief 
 Congenial to his tear I deem 
 The partial note's enchanting theme. 
 
 With apathy, in pride of youth, 
 Iv'e heard applause, the bane of truth. 
 Have seen the eloquent surprize 
 Beam from the mute, but speaking eyes ; 
 But when a Mother's praise I heard. 
 Love knew the lone, and blest the word. 
 No diffidence could bar the door, 
 And pride of joy could sleep no more 
 
 Nor blame the Love, nor chide the Muse, 
 'Kin their antiquated views 
 The wither'd form that's now in earth 
 But grac'd the living parent's worth 
 Can thee disarm ; when through my tears 
 Thy harp is tun'd, thy hand appears ; 
 When praise, by thee, to Love addrest. 
 Is a new thorn, and bane of rest ; 
 From the similitude it bore 
 To music that is heard no more.
 
 [30] 
 
 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 Where's the tear, that shall destroy 
 Such a theme of Christian joy i 
 Tell me, who has clos'd her breath, 
 But the Saint that wish'd for death! 
 Heaven's accompt was bright and clear ; 
 It was pain, that linger'd here ; 
 
 Though on Life's Autumnal day 
 Time had shed no common ray, 
 Yet the gen'rous feel a pain, 
 Too angelic to complain : 
 Secret anguish they possess, 
 Which the selfish cannot guess, 
 When their charities* can say 
 " Time and we, have lost a dai/," 
 
 In the sense which Milton gives to the word as embracing; 
 all the duties and sentiments of moral affection
 
 [31 ] 
 
 But her Shade can love inspire; 
 She is bless'd-^and we admire : 
 
 Unpresuming as the earth, 
 She was dignified in worth ; 
 Love, to memory ensur'd, 
 Pays the debt, her life abjur'd ; 
 He has made the wreath his own, 
 Cherish'd in the heart alone : 
 Sacred is the mournful trust ; 
 AH its pride is to be just ; 
 JFor if truth is to redeem 
 From humility its theme, 
 Bright is honour's jealous crown, 
 In the posthumous renown. 
 By the filial tribute sav'd, 
 By the living Christian wav'd.
 
 [ 32] 
 " VNPRESUMING, " 
 
 AV EPITHET IN MY DEAR MOTHER'S CHARACTER, 
 
 As it was drawn by one of her female Relations in a most 
 eloquent Letter upon the Subject of her Death. 
 
 Akgels ; catch the hallow'd word 
 By an Angel's voice conferr'd ; 
 Wreath appropriate and correct; 
 Homage by no flatt'ries deckt ! 
 " Unpresuming J" never yet 
 S deserv'd an epithet ; 
 With an intellect allied, 
 That would fill a Saint with pride, 
 And with such unspotted worth, 
 As accompanies the birth 
 Of elected Spirits here. 
 Born to a celestial sphere, 
 In their pilgrimage resign'd, 
 And with Christian pains refin'd.
 
 [33] 
 
 Blush, ye Pharisees, and hide 
 All the symbols of your pride ; 
 You, that still yourselves prefer, 
 Catch the mantle, dropt by her! 
 Unobtrusive, and retir'd, 
 She, could blush to be adrair'd ; 
 Yet with energies unseen 
 Was a perfect heroine : 
 Her ambition's golden prize. 
 When the tear of blibs could rise, 
 At a bounty's ample scope, 
 That surpast the wings of hope ; 
 Never seen but in the gift. 
 Which the desolate could lift ; 
 Never heard, but in the voice, 
 That could make the heart rejoice ; 
 By afflictions undismay'd. 
 And in blessings undecay'd ; 
 Not a moment uneraploy'd. 
 Not a mercy unenjoy'd. 
 Or to self-indulgence given. 
 Envied her the path to Heaven. 
 D
 
 [ JJ4 ] 
 
 Yet from abject thoughts exempt. 
 She was great in pride's contempt ; 
 All the virtues meekly bore, 
 And uplifted 'em the more. 
 
 Blest Humility * appear ! 
 Vindicate thy honours* here ! 
 Spirit of the wise, and good ! 
 Thou art Pride,i{ understood. 
 
 Before honour is humility. Prov.
 
 [35] 
 
 THE 
 
 FIFTH COMMANDMENT. 
 
 1 Hus from hallow'd Sinai's hill 
 Heav'n directed human will, 
 Gave the rule, that Nature guest. 
 And thejilial spirit blest. 
 
 Bui shall Death's cold hand, remove 
 Such a debt of sacred love ? 
 Shall it languish, and be faint, 
 When the Mother, dies the Saint ? 
 Shall it leap from the record, 
 When it aims at no reward ? 
 Shall the labour be at rest 
 When the soul it lov'd is blest ? 
 Shall the heart its faith desert,- 
 Shall the zeal be less alert, 
 Upon altars of the dead, 
 Than by living mercies fed ?
 
 ,[36] 
 
 Never shall the labour sleep, 
 Nor the eye refuse to weep, 
 Till the heart is in the dust, 
 And the tomb shall claim its trust; 
 Nor shall melody refuse 
 Tears, that consecrate the Muse ; 
 Nor the filial praise be dumb, 
 Till the Silent hour is come 
 Loroe shall risk the human thought 
 Which in dreams from hope is caught ; 
 Hope, that rising from the tomb 
 Lifts to dear's its trembling plume: 
 God of Love shall I despair 
 Oilhejilial office, there ? 
 May not parents, blest in thee. 
 Claim again the^/ta/ knee ?
 
 [37] 
 
 THK 
 
 TOMB OF DESPAIR. 
 
 Rest, inexorable dart ! 
 Spare the agonizing heart ! 
 Why is Nature thus to mouni} 
 From its hope of mercy torn ? 
 Why must Echo hear the sound, 
 Which Afl9iction's note has found I 
 
 Bed of sorrow, tost in paiu ; 
 Why solicit her disdain. 
 Whom thy agonies deplore, 
 Till Religion's heard no more ? 
 
 Give me back into the world. 
 Though from its enjoyments hurl'd ! 
 She had lost her soul's delight, 
 Wrapt in death's oerwhelming night: 
 Was her anguish, less acute ? 
 Was the tortured spirit, mute ?
 
 [38] 
 
 Yet she liv'd, and from its grave 
 To the world her tribute gave, 
 Breathing life into the dust, 
 In the cherish'd parent's trust : 
 Vain rebuke ! insulting theme; 
 Spectre of the morning's dream ! 
 Not a tear shalt thou defeat ; 
 Not a pain thy arts can cheat : 
 Where's the mirrour, we deplore ? 
 It's a light, that gleams no more ; 
 All the charm, and grace, it knew, 
 From the earth ascending flew ; 
 Here the shadows, ling'ring yet. 
 Are of sorrow, and regret. 
 Hail, Oblivions opiate breath ; 
 For thy other name is Death ! 
 It's to thee, I shall repair ; 
 Tomb of Love, and of Despair!
 
 [39] 
 
 HAIL AND FAREWELL! 
 
 Hail, and farewell !* the parting word, 
 That Genius brealh'd, and Friendship heard, 
 When He whom distant worlds admired, 
 The Elegiac wreath inspir'd ! 
 
 Could his uplifted thoughts be mine, 
 His glowing speech, and breathing line, 
 Could ihei/, adorn, but still endear. 
 Affliction's tributary tear, 
 Could an electric spirit's fire, 
 Touch with his Eloquence, the Lr/re, 
 This^lial tear should never die ; 
 Upon that Eagle's wing should fly ; 
 And cherish the maternal claim, 
 Till birth, and life, should be a name. 
 
 Words delivered by Mt.fiurke at the end of his funeral 
 oration upon the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds.
 
 [ 40 ] 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 Ctlowing thoughts, which cannot speak, 
 'Prove, that eloquence is weak ; 
 To the heart is their appeal 
 They are mute, because they feel. 
 
 Ye that knew the Mother's worthy 
 Blest, and blessing, upon earth. 
 Join with* yi-urs thejilial tear. 
 Shed upon that Parent here ; 
 Tell us, if the son's regret 
 Ever shall its pride forget ; 
 Or the daughter's tear, can part 
 From its current in the heart. 
 
 Who can such a theme detail? 
 Who can tell thej?/a? tale ? 
 Not in ttiords to be exprest, 
 Or infancy to be guest, 
 It's for Love, on earth, io feel, 
 But for Angels to reveal.
 
 [41] 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 1 HE aflFection of Pope, Gray, and Cowper, to their 
 mother, has been touched in one of my notes. The 
 filial homage, and regret of the first-mentioned 
 poet, are familiar to all who are conversant in the 
 history of his life. 
 
 I have a manuscript Poem of Cowper upon 
 Ms mother, which is not surpast in beauty of 
 sentiment, or of that eloquence which tenderness 
 inspires, even by him in his printed works. 
 
 But the most inspired honour to the maternal 
 claim which it ever has received, is in Gray not 
 in his verse, but in his prose. 
 
 Where is the son, whose mother can have blest 
 him, as mine blest me, and can read, without 
 sympathy of heart, the words of that poet in a
 
 E 42] 
 
 letter to one of his friends? They deserve to be 
 writ in characters of gold. 
 
 I heard you were gone in haste 
 
 " on account of your mothers illness ; and the 
 " same letter informed me thai she was recovered, 
 ** otherwise I bad then written to you only to 
 ** beg you would take care of her, and to inform 
 " you that I have discovered a thing very little 
 ^^ known ; which is, "that in ones whole 
 
 ** LIFE ONE CAN NEVEE HAVE ANY MORE 
 
 " THAN A SINGLE MOTHER you may think 
 ** it obvious, and (what you call) a trite observa- 
 
 *^ tion. I was at the same age (very near) 
 
 ** as wise as you, and yet I never discovered this 
 ** (with full evidence and conviction) till it was 
 *' too late. 
 
 *' It is thirteen years ago, and seems but 
 " asyksterday; and every day i live 
 
 * IT SINKS deeper INTO MY HEART.*" 
 
 * " He seldom mentioned his mother without a sigh- 
 After his death her gowns and wearing apparel were found 
 in a trunk in his apartments just as she had left them.
 
 [43] 
 
 What he laments that he never discoveted 
 before it was too late, I, could not help discovering, 
 and cherishing to my heart, from the time I 
 could think and feel, to the advanced period of 
 my own life, doomed, as it is, to^wrtv're her. But 
 this peculiar felicity arose, not from the virtue, 
 the duty, or the self-indulging habit of tenderness 
 in my nature, and character It arose from the 
 uniform tenor of ^rr vigilant anxieties for mc, her 
 wisdom, and the liberality of her conduct I 
 should have been a monster, and a fiend, if I had 
 not loved her morethan all other human creatures. 
 
 I should be that monster, and fiend still, if I 
 could cease to love her memory, and her image, 
 with all this weight of preference, to the last 
 moment of breath and life. 
 
 It seemed as he never could have the resolution to open 
 
 it in order to distribute them amongst his female Relations, 
 
 to whom by his will he bequeathed them." 
 
 MasoTU 
 
 Printed by W. Bulmerand Co. 
 Cleveland Row, St. Jamea't.
 
 ust 
 
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