The ftorms of Boreas rave no more;
The ftorms of faction ceafe to roar,
At vernal funs as wintery tempefts cease,
She, lovely power! smiles faction into peace.
FT has the Mufe, on this diftinguish'd day,
Tun'd to glad harmony the vernal lay;
But, O lamented change! the lay must flow
From grateful rapture now to grateful woe.
She, to this day who joyous luftre gave,
Defcends for ever to the filent grave.
She, born at once to charm us and to mend,
Of human race the pattern and the friend.
To be or fondly or severely kind,
To check the rash or prompt the better mind,
Parents fhall learn from her, and thus fhall draw
From filial love alone a filial awe.
Who seek in avarice wisdom's art to fave ;
Who often fquander, yet who never gave;
From her these knew the righteous mean to find,
And the mild virtue stole on half mankind.
The lavish now caught frugal wisdom's lore;
Yet ftill, the more they fav'd, bestow'd the more.
Now mifers learn'd at others woes to melt,
And faw and wonder'd at the change they felt.
The generous, when on her they turn'd their view,
The generous ev'n themselves more generous grew,
Learn'd the fhunn'd haunts of fhame-fac'd want to
To goodness, delicacy, adding grace.
The conscious cheek no rising blush confess'd,
Nor dwelt one thought to pain the modest breast i
Kind and more kind did thus her bounty fhower,
And knew no limit but a bounded power.
This truth the widow's fighs, alas! proclaim;
For this the orphan's tears embalm her fame.
The wife beheld her learning's fummit gain,
Yet never giddy grow, nor ever vain :
But on one fcience point a ftedfast eye,
That fcience-how to live and how to die.
Say, Memory, while to thy grateful fight
Arife her virtues in unfading light,
What joys were ours, what forrows now remain :
Ah! how fublime the blifs! how deep the pain!
And thou, bright princess, seated now on high,
Next one, the fairest daughter of the sky,
Whose warm-felt love is to all beings known,
Thy fifter Charity! next her thy throne;
See at thy tomb the Virtues weeping lie!
There in dumb forrow feem the Arts to die.
So were the fun o'er other orbs to blaze,
And from our world, like thee, withdraw his rays,
No more to vifit where he warm'd before,
All life must ceafe, and nature be no more.
Yet fhall the Muse a heavenly height essay
Beyond the weakness mix'd with mortal clay;
Beyond the lofs, which, though she bleeds to fee,
Though ne'er to be redeem'd, the lofs of thee!
Beyond ev'n this, the hails with joyous lay,
Thy better birth, thy first true natal day;
A day, that fees thee borne, beyond the tomb,
To endless health, to youth's eternal bloom;
Borne to the mighty dead, the fouls fublime
Of every famous age, and every clime ;
To goodness fix'd by truth's unvarying laws,
To bliss that knows no period, knows no pause➡ 60
Save when thine eye, from yonder pure ferene,
Sheds a foft ray on this our gloomy scene.
With me now liberty and learning mourn,
From all relief, like thy lov'd confort, torn ;
For where can prince or people hope relief,
When each contend to be fupreme in grief?
So vy'd thy virtues, that could point the way,
So well to govern; yet so well obey.
Deign one look more! ah! fee thy confort dear
Wishing all hearts, except his own, to chear.
Lo! ftills he bids thy wonted bounty flow
To weeping families of worth and woe.
He stops all tears, however faft they rife,
Save thofe that ftill muft fall from grateful eyes,
And, spite of griefs that fo ufurp his mind,
Still watches o'er the welfare of mankind.
Father of thofe, whose rights thy care defends,
Still moft their own, when moft their fovereign's friends;
Then chiefly brave, from bondage chiefly free,
When moft they trust, when most they copy thee; 80
Ah! let the lowest of thy fubjects pay
His honeft heart-felt tributary lay;
In anguish happy, if permitted here,
One figh to vent, to drop one virtuous tear ;
Happier, if pardon'd, fhould he wildly moan,
And with a monarch's forrow mix his own.
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