INVOCATION TO OBLIVION. TO ROBERT MERRY, ESQ. George Monck Berkeley 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. T142950 K111746.000 Berkeley, George Monck, 1763-1793. Poems: by the late George-Monck Berkeley, Esq. ... With a preface by the editor, consisting of some anecdotes of Mr. Monck Berkeley and several of his friends. London printed by J. Nichols; and sold by Messrs. Leigh and Sotheby; Mr. Edwards; Mr. Cooke, Oxford; Mr. Todd, York; Messrs. Simmons and Co.; Messrs. Flackton, Marrable, and Claris; and Mr. Bristow, Canterbury 1797 pp. 6-10. viii,DCXXXII,212p.,plate: port.; 4⁰.

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INVOCATION TO OBLIVION . TO ROBERT MERRY , ESQ . Better known to the world as the elegant author of the poems published under the name of Della Crusca . OBLIVION ! hail , thou peaceful pow'r ! Blest offspring thou of life's last hour , Who , bending o'er the bed of woe , ( When Fate ordains the welcome blow , Fixing to human griefs a bound , Without the church-yard's hollow mound , ) Calm'st with thy poppy-cinctur'd urn , The panting soul long us'd to mourn . Alike thy draft Lethean drowns The pride of kings , the care of clowns . Now Death has chill'd the fever'd mind Of him , the scourge of human-kind , Who , his insatiate fame to feed , Bade all mankind or weep or bleed . Lo ! at thy shrine the victor bows ; Thy poppies now entwine his brows : Thais no more with angel charms Awakes his hope , his breast alarms , No longer bids him fondly gaze On eyes that mock the diamond's blaze . Unheeded now o'er Edward's grave Fam'd Cressy's living laurels wave . Unconscious of the foliage proud , The warrior slumbers in his shroud : Yet thou who thus of human pride Stem'st the deep o'erflowing tide , Who o'er ambition's blazon'd tale Indignant throw'st thy sable veil , Dost still in mercy soothe the woe That bids through life the tear to flow , Whom mis'ry urges to his tomb , Obtain from thee a welcome doom . At ease reclin'd within thy arms , And deaf to faction's loud alarms , See murder'd Mary calmly sleeps , And , blissful change ! no longer weeps . Embosom'd in some unknown tomb , Forgetful of his impious doom , Sleeps the sad prince whose hapless fate Through time's long course shall want its mate ; E'en Love , that tyrant of the breast , At thy numb touch is hush'd to rest ; No longer through the Paraclete , Of Heloise the last retreat , His barbed shafts destructive fly , For Abelard but once could die ; Around their sad united grave In vain Love's airy pinions wave ; The vengeful pow'r , profuse of woes , In vain attempts their last repose ; For all the bliss thy cup contains Rewards at length thy former pains . Ah! say , Oblivion ! deign to say , Can earthly song , can mortal lay , From forth thy sacred well-fount pure For me one blissful draught procure . For Mem'ry oft upholds to view The varied scenes through life we knew , Recalls the blissful hours of yore , And pictures joys that are no more . Do thou those pangs in pity spare , And grant , O grant all Nature's pray'r . But , first and chief , Miranda's woes Deserve from thee a long repose . In pity bid remembrance cease , And her's be dark Oblivion's peace . Thy real worth they only know , Whose hearts are rich in treasur'd woe . To such more dear thy torpid sway , Than all that meets the blaze of day : Yet still in ev'ry age or clime , In numbers rude , or flowing rhime , From lofty domes that reach the skies , From where the lowly cottage lies : ( Though lost , alas ! in empty air , ) This is the universal pray'r : " Howe'er my future fate be cast , Do thou , Oblivion , veil the past . "