IN MEMORY OF Mr. AGOSTINO ISOLA, OF CAMBRIDGE, Who died on the 5th of June, 1797. (Mary) Matilda Betham Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T143264 Betham, Mary Matilda, 1776-1852. Elegies and Other Small Poems, by Matilda Betham. Ipswich Printed by W. Burrell, and sold by Longman, Paternoster-Row, and Jermyn and Forster, Ipswich 1797 pp. [113]-115.

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IN MEMORY OF Mr. AGOSTINO ISOLA , OF CAMBRIDGE , Who died on the 5th of June , 1797. AWAKE , O Gratitude ! nor let the tears Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voice , When it should speak of a departed friend . A tender friend , the first I ever lost ! For Destiny till now was merciful , And though I oft have felt a transient pang , For worth unknown , and wept awhile for those , Whom long acquaintance only made me love , No keen regret laid pining at my heart , Nor Memory in the solitary hour , Would sting my soul with grief , as when she speaks Thy virtue knowledge , wisdom , gentleness , Thy venerable age , and says that I Had once the happiness to call thee friend . Yes ! I once bore that title , and my heart Thought nobler of itself , that one so good , So honor'd , so rever'd , should give it me . O Isola ! when that glad season comes , Which brought redemption to a ruin'd world , And , like thee , hides beneath the snow of age , A gay , benevolent , and feeling heart , I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeat , With youthful warmth and zealous energy , Those passages , where Poetry assumes An air divine , and wakes th' attentive soul To holy rapture ! Then you promis'd me The luxury to weep o'er Dante's muse , And fair Italia's loftier poets hail . I have often heard That years would blunt the feelings of the soul , And apathy ice the once-glowing heart . Injurious prejudice ! Dear , guileless friend ! Thou read'st mankind , but saw not , or forgot Their faults and vices ; for thy breast was still The residence of sweet Simplicity , Daughter of letter'd Wisdom , and the friend Of Love and Pity . Happy soul , farewell ! Long shall we mourn thee ! longer will it be , " Ere we shall look upon thy like again ! " This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend , was written in the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss , and though unworthy of his virtues , is still a small memorial of my respect for a man , on whose tomb might justly be inscribed , as I have seen on an old monument : " Heven hath his soule , He fruits of Pietie , This Towne his want , Our hearts his Memorie . "