H. \ ILLEBOIS, ESQ. 195 



place in his own pai'ish church, my mind has been im- 

 pressed with the true type of an old English gentleman, 

 and I have sought in vain for his parallel. If ever these 

 lines should meet the eye of his son, they will recall the 

 old Lynn, and the many pleasurable hours we have spent 

 together upon it. 



Lines written on Witnessing the Funeral of the late 

 H. Villebois, Esq., of Marham House, Norfolk. 



And is he gone, the good old Squire ? 



The like of him how few ! 

 Who is there that would not admire 



A specimen so true — 



A specimen of English heart 



With Christian virtues crown'd. 

 Rejoicing always to impart 

 Its happiness around ? 



Not fam'd was he for deeds of arms, 



With pow'rs forensic bless 'd ; 

 But where 's the heart that living warms 



A kinder, nobler breast ? 



The poor man's friend, th' oppressor's bane, 



This earth he proudly trod : 

 In him was seen what poets feign, 



The noblest work of God. 



Oh ! could my feeble pen arrest 



The passing funeral bell, 

 How many would this truth attest, 



And of his goodness tell ! 



Weep on, weep on ! nor vainly try 



To staunch the gushing tear ; 

 For, while his spirit soars on high. 



Your grief shall deck his bier. 



Thus, then, did my days pass pleasantly away, my 

 family increasing with my years. My father's utter ruin 

 having been accomplished, the most distant hope of evei* 



