While you alike from Books and Friends retire, And mourn with filial Duty o'er your Sire; We at this Distance, Sir! confess your Grief, And think it all in vain to seek Relief. No more the careful Pilot's skilful Hands Direct our Ships to visit other Lands; For her lov'd Spouse the Wife no longer fears; Thou and thy Father claim her tend'rest Tears. Our hardy Youths, who lately scorn'd the Shore, And dauntless heard the threatning Tempest roar; Fly from the well-known Dangers of the Sea, And learn with one Consent to grieve like thee. Thee! and thy mournful Mother! how she stands! And beats her Breast! and wrings her aged Hands! Then her warm Lips to his cold Cheek applies, And baths it with the Drops that trickle from her Eyes! Ah cease, unhappy! cease thy Tears to shed; 'Tis not in thee to move the stubborn dead: Vain are thy Vows, and fruitless is thy Pray'r, For unembody'd Spirits flit in Air. [1]She too who glitt'ring with unrival'd Charms, Receiv'd the gen'rous [2]Hervey in her Arms, Now shuns her Lord, declines his fond Embrace, And keeps conceal'd the Beauties of her Face. The sparkling Diamond, in the Ring display'd, Th' embroider'd Mantle, and the rich Brocade Delight no more; no more her Mind inspire With pleasing Hopes, gay Thoughts, and young Desire: All only serve to aggravate her Woe; And deeper in her Heart descends the Blow. Be thou then kind and good, nor ever cease Thy pious Labour till thou bring them Ease; And let thy Mother and thy Sister see A Husband and a Father still in thee: So shall the Muse rejoice to sing thy Praise, And make thy Deed the Subject of her Lays.
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