1804.3 
« 45 } 
ORIGINAL POETRY, 
of TripuTs of RESPECT to the MEMORY 
of that great and good MAN, the REV. 
DR. PRIESTLEY. 
‘yo Death’s dark chambers fhall the wife des 
{cend? 
Shall Freedom lofe, and all mankind =a 
friend? ; 
Shall Peiestrex clofe a life of fpotlefs 
fame, 
And no kind bard arife to blefs his name ? 
He thal] not—whilft my Mufe in humble lays 
At Virtue’s fhrine may offer honett praife ; 
Or, pay, with rev’refice due, and grief fincere, 
At Learning’s tomb the tribute of a tear, 
Science bewails him ona diftant fhore, 
And bids the Mufe no common lofs deplore ; 
®’er the wide fea, upon the paffing gale, 
She pours afar her melancholy tale. 
How thort is mortal life !-+Impaffion’dGrief 
Might feek in folitary fhades relief ; 
Beneath fepulchral glooms exhauft her woe, 
Or bid her fountains never ceafe to flow: 
Yet would her tears be unavailing thed, 
In cyprefs walks, or on Death’s narrow bed; 
Her lamentations cannot wake the dead ! 
How fhort is mortal life }=.Time fwift de- 
{cends, 
With him depart our Fathers and our 
Friends 3 
Whilf& we, fad motrners!—<left behind to 
WeeDy 
To heave vain fights, and wakeful vigils 
keep ; , 
Whilft we may marke our final Hour dtaw nears 
For ‘¢ duft to duft” muft clofe life's proud 
career, 
And fome ftern voice, unheard by us before, 
Will fentence pafse=that Time fhall Be no 
more ! 
Yet Faith’s bright vifions burf upon the 
fight, 
And put the phantom hoft of Fear to flight: 
‘Ferror’s gaunt myrmidons recede afar 
Before the beam of Hope’s refplendent ftar, 
That fhoots foft rays, for ever {parkling clear, 
Through Sorrow’s realms, and Doubt’s dark 
hemilphere 3 
Reveale its filver light where wild-flowers 
bloom, 
Or ancient ever-greens o’erlook the tomb; 
Cheers the faint pilgrim on his dreary way 
With fairer profpeéts, and a happier day; 
And points the virtuous Sage, by toils op- 
prefs’d, 
"To lafting pleafures, and a land of reft. 
, Too much, ye fons of violence and ftrife, 
Wour foul mifdeeds embitter'd ParesTLEY’s 
life 
When o’er the land the demon Difcord flew ; 
When the mild charities of life withdrew ; 
When the mad multitude to mifchief ran, 
And Party’s wat-whoop {card the peaceful 
ARs 
Dark were the timesemthen Prejudice conte 
bin’d : 
With Zeal’s blind champions to miflead the 
mifid 3 
Where Freedom reign’d, and blefs’d her fa» 
v’rite ifle, 
There Perfecution wav'd his torch awhile 
There bigot fury fir’d with vengeful rage 
The Goths and Vandals of a letter’d age, 
And drove the virtuous Sage from home afar, 
To realms illumin’d by the weftern ftar.—« — 
Dark were thofe times—-but Perfecution’s day 
With the late fateful century pafs’d away sas 
OQ! may wild Anarchy unfurl 4o more 
His lawlefs banners on Britannia’s fhore ! 
May Hiftory never ftain her page with crimes 
The foul difgrace of fuck enlighten’d times 5 
And may Oblivion’s darkfome veil be {pread 
O’er Terror’s reign, and painful periods fled }) 
Yet great amidft tumultuous ftrife arofe 
The rev’rend Sage—fav’d from his cruel foesy, 
Who, mad deftroyers, wanted not pretence 
To ftain their hands in blood of innocence 
Yet great he rofe, and like the Atheniag, 
Sage”, 
Who taught and fuffer’d in a darker age, 
fle patient bore the boift’rous ftorms of fates. 
Profcrib’d by prejudice, and vulgar hate 5 
And vers’d in holier love—of fpirit meeky. 
Refifted not whoever fmote his cheekx ; 
And ftill he lov’d his enemies, whofe crimes 
Fore’d him to wander far in foreign climes. 
Though fhort man’s life; yet while a pile 
grim here ; 
Much may be done within life’s narrow fpheres 
Mark PrresTLeyY’s life, his works of genius 
fcan, 
And all the labours of the pious man 5 
Review the toilfome path he cheerful trod, 
How he infruéted man—-then §¢ walk’d with. 
God !” 
Bold was th’ attempt thofe giddy heights te 
climb 
He haply reach’d, where Science fits fublime 
Upon her ftar-deck’d throne, from whence the: 
throws 
Refplendent light, and honour’d gifts beRows. 
Though fhort his life; yet funs for ever 
bright 
Pour on the juit man’s path-way shining 
light: 
When in the grave lamented PrizstTiery 
flept, 
O’er his cold afhes al] the Virtues wept ; 
How much of learning, when the good maz 
fell, 
How much of knowledge, bade the world 
farewel } 
©! ye who waich’d him on his heav’n-bound 
Way» 
Found ye the mantle, by him caft away ? 
enemy ay 
* Secrates, 
© wrap 
