Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

HORACE, BOOK II. O D E 16th

Otium Divos, &c.

BY MR. HASTINGS, ON HIS PASSAGE FROM BENGAL TO ENGLAND, IN 1785.

ADDRESSED TO JOHN SHORE, ESQ.

FOR eafe the harrafs'd feaman prays,
When Equinoctial tempefts raise,

The Cape's furrounding wave;

When hanging o'er the reef he hears,
The cracking maft, and fees or fears,
Beneath, his watry grave.

For ease, the flow Maratta fpoils,

And hardier Sic erratic toils,

While both their ease forego;

For eafe, which neither gold can buy,
Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belie,
The cover'd heart, bestow;

For

For neither gold, nor gems combin'd,
Can heal the foul, or fuffering mind,
Lo! where their owner lies,

Perch'd on his couch Distemper breathes,
And Care like smoke, in turbid wreathes,
Round the gay cieling flies.

He who enjoys nor covets more,
The lands his father held before,
Is of true blifs poffefs'd:

Let but his mind unfetter'd tread,
Far as the paths of knowledge lead,
And wife, as well as bleft.

No fears his peace of mind annoy,
Left printed lies his fame destroy,

Which labour'd years have won ;

Nor pack'd committees break his reft,
Nor avarice, fends him forth in queft,
Of climes beneath the fun.

Short is our fpan, then why engage
In schemes, for which man's tranfient age,
Was ne'er by Fate defign'd;

Why flight the gifts of Nature's hand,

What wanderer from his native land,

E'er left himfelf behind?

[blocks in formation]

The reftlefs thought, and wayward will,
And difcontent attend him ftill,

Nor quit him while he lives;

At fea, care follows in the wind,
At land, it mounts the pad behind,
Or with the post-boy drives.

He would happy live to day,

Muft laugh the prefent ills away,
Nor think of woes to come,

For come they will, or foon or late,
Since mix'd at beft is man's eftate,
By Heaven's eternal doom.

To ripen'd age, Clive liv'd renown'd,
With lacks enrich'd, with honours crown'd,
His valour's well earn'd meed;

Too long, alas! he liv'd, to hate
His envied lot, and died, too late,
From life's oppreffion freed.

An early death, was Elliott's doom,
I faw his open'ing virtues bloom,
And manly fenfe unfold;

Too

Too foon to fade! I bade the stone,
Record his name * 'midst Hordes unknown,
Unknowing what it told.

To thee, perhaps, the fates may give,
I wish they may, in health to live,

Herds, flocks, and fruitful fields;
Thy vacant hours in mirth to fhine,
With these, the Mufe already thine,
Her present bounties yields.

For me, O Shore! I only claim,
To merit, not to feek for fame,

The good, and just to please.

A state above the fear of want,
Domestic love, Heaven's choicest grant,
Health, leifure, peace, and ease.

* Mr. Elliott died in October 1778, in his way to Naugpore, the capital of Moodajee Boolla's dominions, being deputed on an embaffy to that Prince, by the Governor General and Council; a monument was erected to his memory, on the fpot where he was buried; and the Marattas have fince built a town there, called Elliott Gunge, or Elliott's town..

TO THE MEMORY OF MISS MARIA LINLEY, WHO DIED SEPTEMBEr 5, 1784.

BY CAPTAIN THOMPSON.

Lesbi puella, vale!
Cara Maria, vale!

IF truth, if virtue, innocence and grace,
May in celestial records claim a place,
Linky, thy name is with an angel's pen
written on golden leaves by fainted men :
If wit, if beauty, modesty and sense,

Met earth's applaufe, or heav'n's high recompence;
If e'er an angel left the solar sphere,
To fix in wonder ev'ry eye and ear,
'Twas thee, Maria-whofe fuperior grace

Prov'd thee defcended of celestial race;
Prov'd thee defigned to mitigate our care,
And raife our minds to know what angels are.
Maria, dear, adieu! and from th' abode
Of faints bestow thy light to point the road;
That by thy radiance we may gain the sky,
And païs with thee a blefs'd eternity.

EPITAPH,

« ZurückWeiter »