Elegy to the Memory of David Garrick Esq

AR

DE OF

IM, who grac'd the mimick scene,  And charm'd attention with resistless pow'r;

Whose wond'rous art, whose fascinating mien,  Gave glowing rapture to the short-liv'd hour!

Accept the mournful verse, the ling'ring sigh,  The tear that faithful Mem'ry stays to shed;

The

ED

AR, that from Reflection's eye,  Drops on the ashes of the sainted dead.

Lov'd by the grave, and courted by the young,  In social comforts eminently blest;

All hearts rever'd the precepts of thy tongue,  And Envy's self thy eloquence confess'd.

Who could like thee the soul's wild tumults paint,  Or wake the torpid ear with lenient art?

Touch the nice sense with pity's dulcet plaint,  Or soothe the sorrows of the breaking heart?

Who can forget thy penetrating eye,  The sweet bewitching smile, th' empassion'd look?

The clear deep whisper, the persuasive sigh,  The feeling tear that Nature's language spoke?

Rich in each treasure bounteous Heaven could lend,  For private worth distinguish'd and approv'd,

The pride of

UE's darling friend,  By

LD honor'd­and by

EN lov'd!

The courtier's cringe, the flatt'rer's abject smile,  The subtle arts of well-dissembled praise,

Thy soul abhorr'd;­above the gloss of guile,  Truth lead thy steps, and Friendship crown'd thy days.

Oft in thy

ON's dark embow'ring shade  The

ET's hand shall sweep the trembling string;

While the proud tribute §to thy mem'ry paid,  The voice of

US on the gale shall fling.

Yes,

AN! thy soft melodious verse  Still vibrates on a nation's polish'd ear;

Fondly it hover'd o'er the sable hearse,  Hush'd the loud plaint, and triumph'd in a tear.

In life united by congenial minds,  Dear to the

SE, to sacred friendship true;

Around her darling's urn a wreath

HE binds,  A deathless wreath­immortaliz'd by

OU!

But say, dear shade, is kindred mem'ry flown?  Has widow'd love at length forgot to weep?

That no kind verse, or monumental stone,  Marks the lone spot where thy cold relics sleep!

Dear to a nation, grateful to thy muse,  That nation's tears upon thy grave shall flow,

For who the gentle tribute can refuse,  Which thy fine feeling gave to fancied woe?

Thou who, by many an anxious toilsome hour,  Reap'd the bright harvest of luxuriant Fame,

Who snatch'd from dark oblivion's barb'rous pow'r  The radiant glories of a

RE's name!

Rembrance oft shall paint the mournful scene  Where the slow fun'ral spread its length'ning gloom,

Where the deep murmur, and dejected mien,  In artless sorrow linger'd round thy tomb.

And tho' no laurel'd bust, or labour'd line,  Shall bid the passing stranger stay to weep;

Thy

RE's hand shall point the hallow'd shrine,  And Britain's genius with thy ashes sleep.

Then rest in peace,

O ever sacred shade!  Your kindred souls exulting

ME shall join;

And the same wreath thy hand for

RE made,  Gemm'd with her tears about

HY

VE

LL

NE.