24
Yet then it lies, all wond'rous as before,
And still the Glory, though the Guard no more.
So thou, when every virtue, every grace,
Rose in thy soul, or shone within thy face;
When, though the Son of Granby, Thou wert known
Less by thy Father's glory than thy own;
When Honour lov'd, and gave Thee every charm,
Fire to thy eye and vigour to thy arm;
Then from our lofty hopes and longing eyes,
Fate and thy virtues call'd Thee to the skies:
Yet still we wonder at thy tow'ring fame,
And loosing Thee, still dwell upon thy Name.
Oh! ever honoured, ever valued! say
What Verse can praise Thee, or what Work repay?
Yet Verse (in all we can) thy worth repays,
Nor trusts the tardy zeal of future days;—
Honours for Thee thy Country shall prepare,
Thee in their hearts, the Good, the Brave, shall bear;
To deeds like thine shall noblest Chiefs aspire,
The Muse shall mourn Thee, and the world admire.
In future times, when smit with glory's charms,
The untry'd youth first quits a Father's arms;
"Oh! be like him," the weeping Sire shall say,
"Like Manners walk, who walk'd in Honour's way;
"In danger foremost, yet in death sedate,
"Oh! be like him in all things, but his fate!"
If for that fate such public tears be shed,
That victory seems to die now thou art dead;
How shall a Friend his nearer hope resign,
That Friend a Brother, and whose soul was thine;
And still the Glory, though the Guard no more.
So thou, when every virtue, every grace,
Rose in thy soul, or shone within thy face;
When, though the Son of Granby, Thou wert known
Less by thy Father's glory than thy own;
When Honour lov'd, and gave Thee every charm,
Fire to thy eye and vigour to thy arm;
Then from our lofty hopes and longing eyes,
Fate and thy virtues call'd Thee to the skies:
Yet still we wonder at thy tow'ring fame,
And loosing Thee, still dwell upon thy Name.
Oh! ever honoured, ever valued! say
What Verse can praise Thee, or what Work repay?
Yet Verse (in all we can) thy worth repays,
Nor trusts the tardy zeal of future days;—
Honours for Thee thy Country shall prepare,
Thee in their hearts, the Good, the Brave, shall bear;
To deeds like thine shall noblest Chiefs aspire,
The Muse shall mourn Thee, and the world admire.
In future times, when smit with glory's charms,
The untry'd youth first quits a Father's arms;
"Oh! be like him," the weeping Sire shall say,
"Like Manners walk, who walk'd in Honour's way;
"In danger foremost, yet in death sedate,
"Oh! be like him in all things, but his fate!"
If for that fate such public tears be shed,
That victory seems to die now thou art dead;
How shall a Friend his nearer hope resign,
That Friend a Brother, and whose soul was thine;
