Let those who knew the Friend reposing here,
Approach these mournful precincts with a tear;
And strangers, when his fate is told by fame,
Sigh for disasters, free from guilt or blame,
Let Fortune's favourites hither turn their eyes,
For here, low laid, a former favourite lies,
Who, from his cradle nursed to manhood's prime,
Nor felt, nor feared the changeful shocks of time.
Before him Fortune piled a precious hoard,
His pillow smoothed, and decked his sumptuous board;
Around him rose the forest fresh with flowers,
Domains baronial, and delightful bowers;
Free flowed his vintage, happy was his day,
His morning useful, and his evening gay:
When adverse Fate, with dark and withering frown,
Blasted the whole, and dashed the fabric down;
The hopes, the smiles, the mirth of former years,
A glance, a moment turned to doubts and fears;
Disaster dire! but still with brow serene,
He moved amongst the ruins of the scene.
In public life, mid perils to the throne,
And common safety, now no longer known,
His mild persuasion, and enlightened view,
The minds of all to aid his purpose drew;
And prudent foresight, ere the act began,
Formed, and arranged the well concerted plan.
Of manners courteous, dignified, and kind,
A heavenly temper, and a liberal mind,
No spleen, no rancour, harboured in his heart,
Prompt to perform a generous, friendly part;
His triumph to repress the rising feud,
With bland demeanour to compose the rude,
And oft with kind, or well adapted phrase,
Encourage merit with the meed of praise.
Garthland, farewell! a long, a last adieu,
To friendship often tried, and always true;
Yet shall remembrance dwell with fond employ,
On former hours of merriment and joy,
When life was young, when every form was fair,
And pleasure laughed to scorn the gloom of care.
Farewell! "the days of other years are o'er"—
Around the social board we meet no more.