962 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1805 



Still Isis. liallow'd stream ! liis name reveres, 

 And British Themis sheds her awfcl tears. 



There, VVilkins, to the sons of Brahma known. 

 With great V'yasa's triumphs blends his own : 

 While the dark tales of elder ages lie 

 Unravell'd to sage Wilford's classic eye. 

 Who can forget how Davis loy'd to trace, 

 By ancient sages led, th' ethcrial space, 

 What laurels wave round cither Colebrooke's brow, 

 O'er Cleveland's tomb what sacred sorrows flow, 

 Or Scott's historic wreath, or Kennel's praise, 

 Or, studious Hamilton, thy modesf bays, 

 Or Shore, to gr.xce and govern empire born, 

 With laws to strengthen, or with arts adorn. 

 Friend to the Muse, and by the Muse belov'd. 

 By Britain honour'd, and by Heaven approv'd ? 



Nor these alone : But, lo ! as Wellcsley leads, 

 Rise other names, and a new race succeeds. 

 Rous'd by his call, the youthful bands aspire 

 To Jones's learning or to Jones's fire ; 

 In clust'ring ranks the meed of song they claim, 

 And toil and brighten up the steep of Fame. 

 Thou too, had Heaven but listen'd to our prayer, 

 Thou too, Mackenzie*, shouldst havebrightcn'd there. 

 Oh, hopes dissolv'd 1 oh, prospects all decay'd ! 

 Oh, dawn of glory, opening but to fade ! 

 rieas'd we beheld thy early laurels bloom, 

 Nor knew they wove a trophy for thy tomb. 

 By Hoogley's banks, from kindred dust how far ! 

 On thy cold stone looks down the Eastern star. 

 But still Afl'ection views thy ashes near, 

 The mould is precious, and that stone is dear : 

 Her nightly thouiiht surmounts the roaring wave, 

 And wfeps and watches round thy distant grave. 

 Yet say, why on that dark eventful day, 

 That call'd ihce from the shores of Thames away, 

 W^hen friendship's warmth mid parting sorrows burn'd, 

 Hand pross'd in hand, and tear for tear return'd, 

 Though Hope was there all credulous and young, 

 Why on thy brow a cheerless shadow hung ? 

 E'en at that hour did dark forebodings shed 

 O'er shivering nature some unconscious dread ? 

 And felt thy heart new wounds of satlncss flow, 

 Prophetii, sadness and a weight of woe ? 



How dark, though fleeting, arc the days of man ! 

 W hat countless sorrows crowd his narrow span ! 



* Lewis Markonzie, Fsq. of the Benejal civil establishment. He dieH at Cal 

 rutta, in 1800, just after lie had been honouied with a medal for his proficiency ia 

 the College lately cstaWlshed there. He was the io» of Mr. Mackenzie, the cele- 

 brated author of " The Man of reeling." 



F«r 



