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ON SEEING THE STATUE OF MY LATE UNCLE, 

 DR. ALDERSON, OF HULL. 



BY AMELIA OPIE. 



Tis he ! through tears that long lov'd form I trace. 

 That manly hearing, that expressive face ! 

 Those eager eyes which spoke the vigorous mind. 

 Intent on toils to benefit mankind ! 

 Yes, every feature in the marble lives. 

 And all the comfort art can yield, it gives. 

 But there's a balm for fond survivors' hearts 

 Beyond what sculpture's utmost power imparts. 

 Since faithful Memory paints the general woe 

 On the wide shore where Humber's waters flow. 

 Where he, the kind physician, father, friend. 

 In vigorous age was hurried to his end ! 

 She paints the thousands tlironging roimd his bier ; 

 All ranks, all ages, equal mourners there — 

 While grateful groups his generous zeal recall'd. 

 When, by no shrinking selfishness appall'd. 

 He cross'd the billowy tide at midnight's hour. 

 To yield the treasures of his healing power. 

 What, though full oft the chilling wint'ry gale 

 Blew loud and fearful through the moaning sail. 

 He could, undaunted, storms and dangers brave. 

 Whose life's first object — was to soothe, and save ! 

 Then raise the statue ! raise the breathing bust ! 

 Let storied marble guard the sacred dust ! 

 Let Learning's pen record his civic fame. 

 And on the stone inscribe his honour'd name ! 

 But know, such worth requires no Sculptor's art : 

 He lives enshrin'd within the grateful heart. 



