ODE TO THE Right Honourable the Lady ****, ON THE DEATH OF HER SON. William Gerard Hamilton Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1122 K093079.001 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. I. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 133-138. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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ODE TO THE Right Honourable the Lady **** , ON THE DEATH OF HER SON . BY THE SAME . WHILE you 'mid spring's gay months deplore , Till lessening Grief's exhausted store , By Time subsiding fail ; The Muse , Affliction's constant friend , With social woe shall still attend , If aught her aid avail . 'Tis hers in life's most ruffled scene To smooth Misfortune's angry mien , And watch each rising sigh : 'Tis hers to bid the Guilty fear , To wipe the virtuous starting tear That swells in Sorrow's eye . 'Mid simple Scythian's dreary land Her gentle , sweet , assuasive hand Could give sad Ovid rest ; She still in mournful numbers pleas'd , With her the hapless exile eas'd His sadly plaintive breast . For thee she still shall seek the plain , Where Severn leads his dusky train , Or Wey's smooth waters roll ; Her power could blunt Affliction's dart , And fondly sooth the keener smart Of Sappho's love-sick soul . On you propitious she bestows A mind too chaste for Sappho's woes , Unstain'd by wild desire ; She Sappho's charms in you supplies , To me the partial power denies The Lesbian's purer fire . Did bounteous heaven , profusely kind , To frame the favourite infant mind Its fondest care employ ; How idle yet the hopes you raise In planning of his future days , How vain each fancy'd joy ! Had Fate prolong'd th' uncertain flame , Nor from the weak enfeebled frame Had life's fleet vision past ; Who knows but angry heaven had still With every baleful bitter ill Each future day o'ercast ! Since awful Prudence ne'er appears , Till calmer thoughts and milder years Each lawless wish assuage ; A fruit unknown to summer's heat , That buds alone in life's retreat , And only blooms in age . 'Mid Solitude's sequester'd joy May no rude cares thy peace destroy By sure Remembrance brought : Nor e'er from Grief's abundant source May dark Reflection's secret force Recall one aching thought . Oft as to each regardless wind With simple notes the village-hind Attunes his love-lorn reed , When Night her dewy curtain spreads , And Cynthia silver glimmerings sheds O'er thicket , vale , and mead . Thou too , beneath the moon's pale gleams , Shall haunt those glades , where fairy streams To Sorrow's softness flow ; Where Love and Grief alone have trod , Where bending willows seem to nod With sympathetic woe . Wan Melancholy 'mid the storm Shall rear her meek dejected form , In sable vest array'd ; While sullen Silence reigns around , Her voice in slow and solemn sound Shall whisper thro' the shade : " Stranger , draw near ! — To Sorrow true " With me these lonesome walks review , " Where Horror's charms invite ; " Daughter of Joy ! — I know thy air ! " Retract thy hurry'd steps ! — nor dare " Profane each hallow'd rite ! " To mix with Mirth's mad train be thine : " The dismal drearier task be mine " 'Mid these lorn scenes to weep ! " My days in these still bowers immur'd , " By no false flattering hopes allur'd , " Shall one sad tenor keep . " Let Grief no more thy youth consume , " Nor sighing o'er the silent tomb " Thy piteous murmurs breathe . " Reject the gloomy cypress bough , " Each airy form to grace thy brow " Shall twine the festive wreath . " The Infant Shade , where-e'er you rove , " Shall faithful to that sacred grove " With sure return appear ; " Nor e'er his filial love shall cease , " He still with soothing sounds of peace " Shall charm thy listening ear . " At morn , when deep sepulcral caves , " When opening vaults , and yawning graves " Their wandering dead recall ; " He ne'er shall quit that sainted place " Till lingering in thy fond embrace " The shadowy tear shall fall . " May'st thou , 'mid Pleasure's sons rejoice , " Each Muse shall with according voice " Confirm the pleasing tale . " This said — the melting Maid of Woe Shall cease — and o'er her charms shall throw The thin translucent veil . The time shall come , when Fancy's power To each slow-sorrowing pensive hour Shall gladly bring relief ; When every care shall die away , And wakeful Memory's gentler sway Dissolve the reign of Grief . Thus , by the painter's just design , From each judicious happy line The colours bloom or fade ; Elude the nice observer's sight , By soft gradations dawn to light , Or languish into shade .