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Proud, profligate, to evil sold,
Their country's curse, reproach, and shame,
Cloking beneath the Patriot's name;
Who their own countrymen destroy'd,
Kindled and fed Rebellion's fire,
To raise the civil discord higher ;
Order and government they scorn,
Forbid the slighted laws to reign,
The rabble's majesty maintain;
First for themselves the Patriots care,
And each sincerely seeks his own,
(Now they have pull’d their rivals down,)
Through avarice and ambition, blind,
Their schemes, bewilder'd, they pursue,
Still undetermined what to do,
Daring as Charles's spurious brood,
Harden'd as Wilkes in wickedness,
Worthy of the Protector's place ;
In lighter satire he was also successful, when he chose that style of composition, which indeed he rarely tried, as not according with his general cast of thought and feeling. The subjoined sketch of “The Man of Fashion ” shows with sufficient distinctness what he could have done, had popular literature been his profession :
What is a modern man of fashion?
Taught by the great his smiles to sell,
“But say, thou criticising clown,
Had Mr. Charles Wesley practised himself largely in translation, there can be no doubt he would have excelled in that as much as in original composition. Various short specimens he has given in the prose writings of his brother ; and these possess great merit. They are terse, and yet easy and poetical. The following is a beautiful imitation of the very tender Latin verses which Bishop Lowth wrote on the sudden death of his beloved daughter, who expired at the tea-table, in the family circle. Placing a cup of coffee upon the salver, she said, “Take this to the Bishop of Bristol.” The cup fell in an instant, with the hand by which it was held; and she expired without a groan, in her twenty-sixth year. The Prelate for whom the cup was designed, was the celebrated Bishop Newton, the learned author of the elaborate and valuable “ Dissertations on the Prophecies."
Cara, vale, ingenio præstans, pietate, pudore,
Et plusquam natæ nomine, cara, vale!
Quando iterum tecum, sim modo dignus, ero.
Eia age in amplexus, cara Maria, redi !
Farewell, my dearest child, farewell !
Wise, pious, good, beyond thy years!
Bereaved—dissolved in softest tears.
But soon, if worthy of the grace,
I shall again behold thee nigh,
“ Haste, to my arms, Maria, fly!
« To a fond father's arms return,”
I then in ecstasies shall say,
But sing through one eternal day!”
Mr. Charles Wesley wrote several epitaphs upon his friends, all of which are of a thoroughly Christian character. A few of these may be properly introduced in this place. Mr. Charles Greenwood lived at Stoke-Newington. At his house Mr. Fletcher spent several months, during the severe illness which induced him to remove to Switzerland. His character and end are thus described :
The blessed, tempted man, who always feard,
Hath laid triumphantly his burden down ;
He bow'd his head, and gain'd the victor's crown:
Who humbly chose on earth the lowest place,
His ceaseless prayers in never-ending praise.
Mr. Richard Boardman went as a Missionary to America, but returned to England when the war of independence broke out. He died suddenly. Concerning him Mr. Charles Wesley thus writes :
With zeal for God, with love of souls inspired,
Mr. Peter Jaco was one of the early Itinerant Preachers. He was originally a Cornish fisherman, but became an able Minister of the New Testament. Hence the allusion in the first line of his epitaph :
Fisher of men, ordain’d by Christ alone,
Mr. Richard Kemp was a London Methodist, the Steward of the society, and one of the excellent of the earth. His epitaph is of considerable length; for Mr. Charles Wesley greatly admired the character of this Christian loyalist :
Fond of his King, and to his country true,
ON MRS. LUNELL.
A follower of the bleeding Lamb
Her burden here laid down,
Exchanging for a crown.
True witness for her pardoning Lord,
Whose blood she felt applied,
And lived a saint, and died.
Reader, her life and death approve,
Believe thy sins forgiven ;
And follow her to heaven.
ON MISS MOLLY LEYSON.
Beneath a daughter of affliction lies,
O that our flesh, like hers, might rest in hope,
With myriads of his shining friends appear,
ON MRS. POPKINS.
A Christian here her glorious journey ends,
Mourner, to Heaven thy earnest wishes breathe,