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Addressed to Governor Belcher on the Death of His Lady.
BELCHER, once more permit the muse you loved, | |
| By honor, and by sacred friendship moved, | |
| Waked by your woe, her numbers to prolong, | |
| And pay her tribute in a funeral song. | |
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| From you, great heaven with undisputed voice, | 5 |
| Has snatch’d the partner of your youthful joys. | |
| Her beauties, ere slow hectic fires consumed, | |
| Her eyes shone cheerful, and her roses bloom’d: | |
| Long lingering sickness broke the lovely form, | |
| Shock after shock, and storm succeeding storm, | 10 |
| Till death, relentless, seized the wasting clay, | |
| Stopp’d the faint voice, and catch’d the soul away. | |
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| No more in converse sprightly she appears, | |
| With nice decorum, and obliging airs: | |
| Ye poor, no more expecting round her stand, | 15 |
| Where soft compassion stretch’d her bounteous hand | |
| Her house, her happy skill no more shall boast; | |
| “Be all things plentiful, but nothing lost.” | |
| Cold to the tomb, see the pale corpse convey’d, | |
| Wrapt up in silence, and the dismal shade. | 20 |
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| Ah! what avail the sable velvet spread, | |
| And golden ornaments amidst the dead? | |
| No beam smiles there, no eye can there discern | |
| The vulgar coffin from the marble urn: | |
| The costly honors, preaching, seem to say, | 25 |
| “Magnificence must mingle with the clay.” | |
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| Learn here, ye fair, the frailty of your face, | |
| Ravish’d by death, or nature’s slow decays: | |
| Ye great, must so resign your transient power, | |
| Heroes of dust, and monarchs of an hour! | 30 |
| So must each pleasing air, each gentle fire, | |
| And all that’s soft, and all that’s sweet expire. | |
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| But you, O Belcher, mourn the absent fair, | |
| Feel the keen pang, and drop the tender tear: | |
| The God approves that nature do her part, | 35 |
| A panting bosom, and a bleeding heart. | |
| Ye baser arts of flattery, away! | |
| The virtuous muse shall moralize her lay. | |
| To you, O favorite man, the power supreme, | |
| Gives wealth, and titles, and extent of fame; | 40 |
| Joys from beneath, and blessings from above; | |
| Thy monarch’s plaudit; and thy people’s love: | |
| The same high power, unbounded, and alone, | |
| Resumes his gifts, and puts your mourning on. | |
| His edict issues, and his vassal, death, | 45 |
| Requires your consort’s,—or your flying breath. | |
| Still be your glory at his feet to bend, | |
| Kiss thou the Son, and own his sovereign hand; | |
| For his high honors all thy powers exert, | |
| The gifts of nature, and the charms of art; | 50 |
| So, over death, the conquest shall be given, | |
| Your name shall live on earth, your soul in heaven. | |
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| Meantime my name to thine allied shall stand, | |
| Still our warm friendship, mutual flames extend; | |
| The muse shall so survive from age to age, | 55 |
| And Belcher’s name protect his Byles’s page. | |
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