Of the Right Honourable the
LORD TALBOT,
LATE CHANCELLOR OF GREAT-BRITAIN.
WHILE, with the public you, my Lord, lament
A friend and father loft, permit the Mufe,
The Mufe affign'd of old a double theme,
To praise dead worth and humble living pride,
Whofe generous task begins where int'rest ends: 5
Permit her on a Talbot's tomb to lay
This cordial verfe fincere, by Truth inspir'd,
Which means not to bestow, but borrow fame.
Yes, fhe may fing his matchlefs virtues now-
Unhappy that she may. But where begin?
How from the diamond fingle out each ray,
Where all, tho' trembling with ten thousand hues,
Effufe one dazzling undivided light?
Let the low-minded of these narrow days
No more prefume to deem the lofty tale
Of ancient times, in pity to their own,
Romance. In Talbot we united faw
The piercing eye, the quick-enlighten'd foul,
The graceful eafe, the flowing tongue of Greece,
Join'd to the virtues and the force of Rome.
Eternal Wisdom, that all-quick'ning fun,
Whence every life, in just proportion, draws
Directing light and actuating flame,
Ne'er with a larger portion of its beams
Awaken'd mortal clay. Hence steady, calm,
Diffusive, deep, and clear, his reafon saw,
With inftantaneous view, the truth of things;
Chief what to human life and human blifs
Pertains, that nobleft fcience, fit for man;
And hence, refponfive to his knowledge, glow'd 30
His ardent virtue. Ignorance and vice
In confort foul agree, each heightening each,
While virtue draws from knowledge brighter fire.
What grand, what comely, or what tender fense,
What talent, or what virtue, was not his ?
What that can render man or great or good,
Give useful worth or amiable grace?
Nor could he brook in ftudious shade to lie,
In foft retirement, indolently pleas'd
With selfish peace. The Syren of the wife,
(Who fteals th' Aonian fong, and in the shape
Of Virtue wooes them from a worthless world)
Tho' deep he felt her charms, could never melt
His ftrenuous fpirit, recollected, calm
As filent Night, yet active as the day.
The more the bold, the bustling, and the bad,
Prefs to ufurp the reins of power, the more
Behoves it Virtue, with indignant zeal,
To check their combination. Shall low views
Of fneaking int'reft or luxurious vice,
The villain's paffions, quicken more to toil,
And dart a livelier vigour thro' the foul,
Than thofe that, mingled with our truest good,
With prefent honour and immortal fame
Involve the good of all? An empty form,
Is the weak virtue that amid the fhade
Lamenting lies, with future schemes, amus'd,
While Wickedness and Folly, kindred powers,
Confound the world. A Talbot's, different far,
Sprung ardent into action, that disdain'd
To lofe in death-like floth one pulfe of life
That might be fav'd; difdain'd for coward Ease
And her infipid pleasures, to refign
The prize of glory, the keen fweets of toil,
And thofe high joys that teach the truly great
To live for others, and for others die.
Early, behold! he breaks benign on life. Not breathing more beneficence, the Spring Leads in her fwelling train the gentle Airs; While gay, behind her, fmiles the kindling waste 70 Of ruffian ftorms and winter's lawless rage.
In him Aftræa, to this dim abode
Of ever-wandering men, return'd again;
To bless them his delight, to bring them back,
From thorny error, from unjoyous wrong,
Into the paths of kind primeval faith,
Of happiness and juftice. All his parts,
His virtues all, collected, fought the good
Of human-kind. For that he, fervent, felt
The throb of patriots when they model states;
Anxious for that, nor needful fleep could hold
His ftill-awaken'd foul; nor friends had charms
To fteal, with pleasing guile, one useful hour;
Toil knew no languor, no attraction joy.
Thus with unwearied fteps, by Virtue led,
He gain'd the fummit of that facred hill
Where, rais'd above black Envy's dark'ning clouds,
Her spotlefs temple lifts its radiant front.
Be nam'd, victorious Ravagers! no more;
Vanish, ye human Comets! fhrink your blaze, go
Ye that your glory to your terrors owe,
As o'er the gazing defolated earth
You fcatter famine, peftilence, and war!
Vanish before this vernal fun of Fame!
Effulgent sweetness! beaming life and joy.
How the heart liften'd while he pleading spoke ! While on the enlighten'd mind, with winning art, His gentle reafon fo perfuafive stole,
That the charm'd hearer thought
Ah! when, ye Studious of the laws! again
Shall fuch enchanting leffons bless
When shall again the darkest truths, perplext, Be fet in ample day? when shall the harsh And arduous open into smiling ease? The folid mix with elegant delight? His was the talent with the pureft light At once to pour conviction on the soul, And warm with lawful flame th' impaffion'd heart. That dangerous gift with him was fafely lodg'd By Heaven. He, facred to his country's caufe, 110 To trampled Want and Worth, to suffering Right, To the lone Widow's and her Orphan's woes, Referv'd the mighty charm. With equal brow, Defpifing then the smiles or frowns of Power, He all that nobleft eloquence effus'd,
Which generous paffion, taught by reason, breathes:
Then spoke the man, and over barren Art
Prevail'd abundant Nature. Freedom then
His client was, Humanity and Truth.
Plac'd on the feat of juftice, there he reign'd 120
In a superior sphere of cloudless day,
A pure intelligence. No tumult there,
No dark emotion, no intemp'rate heat,
No paffion e'er disturb'd the clear ferene
That round him spread. A zeal for right alone, 125
The love of justice, like the fteady fun,
Its equal ardour lent; and sometimes rais'd
Against the fons of Violence, of Pride,
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