EPITAPH

ON SIR WILLIAM WILLIAMS[50].

[This Epitaph was written at the request of Mr. Frederick Montagu, who intended to have inscribed it on a Monument at Belleisle, at the siege of which this accomplished youth was killed, 1761; but from some difficulty attending the erection of it, this design was not executed.]

HERE, foremost in the dangerous paths of fame,
Young Williams fought for England's fair renown;
His mind each Muse, each Grace adorn'd his frame,
Nor Envy dar'd to view him with a frown.

At Aix, his voluntary sword he drew[51],
There first in blood his infant honour seal'd;
From fortune, pleasure, science, love he flew,
And scorn'd repose when Britain took the field.

[50] Sir William Peere Williams, bart. a Captain in Burgoyne's dragoons.

[51] Sir William Williams, in the Expedition to Aix, was on board the Magnanime with Lord Howe; and was deputed to receive the capitulation.

With eyes of flame, and cool undaunted breast,
Victor he stood on Belleisle's rocky steeps-
Ah, gallant youth! this marble tells the rest,
Where melancholy Friendship bends and weeps.

༠༡

STANZAS TO MR. BENTLEY.

A FRAGMENT.

[These were in compliment to Mr. Bentley, who drew a set of Designs for Mr. Gray's Poems, particularly a Head-piece to The Long Story.]

IN silent gaze the tuneful choir among,

Half pleas'd, half blushing let the Muse admire, While Bently leads her sister art along,

And bids the pencil answer to the lyre.

See, in their course, each transitory thought
Fix'd by his touch a lasting essence take;
Each dream, in Fancy's airy colouring wrought,
To local symmetry and life awake!

The tardy rhymes that us❜d to linger on,
To censure cold, and negligent of fame,

In swifter measures animated run,

And catch a lustre from his genuine flame.

Ah! could they catch his strength, his easy grace,
His quick creation, his unerring line;

The energy of Pope they might efface,

And Dryden's harmony submit to mine.

But not to one in this benighted age
Is that diviner inspiration giv'n,

That burns in Shakespeare's or in Milton's page,
The pomp and prodigality of heav'n.

As when conspiring in the diamond's blaze,
The meaner gems, that singly charm the sight,
Together dart their intermingled rays,

And dazzle with a luxury of light.

Enough for

me, if to some feeling breast My lines a secret sympathy impart ;

And as their pleasing influence flows confest,

A sigh of soft reflection heave the heart[52].

[52] The words in Italick were supplied by Mr. Mason.

SONG.

[This was written, at the request of Miss Speed, to an old Air of Geminiani: the thought from the French.]

THYRSIS, when he left me, swore
In the Spring he would return—
Ah! what means the op'ning flower!
And the bud that decks the thorn!
'Twas the nightingale that sung!
'Twas the lark that upward sprung!

Idle notes! untimely green!

Why such unavailing haste?

Gentle gales and sky serene

Prove not always Winter past. Cease, my doubts, my fears to move,

Spare the honour of my love.