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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345295" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On the Death of the Honourable Mr. James Thynne</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell, lov'd Youth! since 'twas the Will of Heaven <br>So soon to take, what had so late been giv'n; <br>And thus our Expectations to destroy, <br>Raising a Grief, where we had form'd a Joy; <br>Who once believ'd, it was the Fates Design <br>In Him to double an Illustrious Line, <br>And in a second Channel spread that Race <br>Where ev'ry Virtue shines, with every Grace. <br>But we mistook, and 'twas not here below <br>That this engrafted Scion was to grow; <br>The Seats above requir'd him, that each Sphere <br>Might soon the Offspring of such Parents share.<br>Resign him then to the supream Intent, <br>You, who but Flesh to that blest Spirit lent. <br>Again disrob'd, let him to Bliss retire, <br>And only bear from you, amidst that Choir, <br>What, Precept or Example did inspire, <br>A Title to Rewards, from that rich store <br>Of Pious Works, which you have sent before. <br>Then lay the fading Reliques, which remain, <br>In the still Vault (excluding farther Pain); <br>Where Kings and Counsellors their Progress close, <br>And his renowned Ancestors repose; <br>Where COVENTRY withdrew All but in Name, <br>Leaving the World his Benefits and Fame; <br>Where his Paternal Predecessor lies, <br>Once large of Thought, and rank'd among the Wise; <br>Whose Genius in Long-Leat we may behold <br>(A Pile, as noble as if he'd been told <br>By WEYMOUTH, it shou'd be in time possest, <br>And strove to suit the Mansion to the Guest.) <br>Nor favour'd, nor disgrac'd, there ESSEX sleeps, <br>Nor SOMERSET his Master's Sorrows weeps, <br>Who to the shelter of th' unenvy'd Grave <br>Convey'd the Monarch, whom he cou'd not save; <br>Though, Roman-like, his own less-valu'd Head <br>He proffer'd in that injur'd Martyr's stead. <br>Nor let that matchless Female 'scape my Pen, <br>Who their Whole Duty taught to weaker Men, <br>And of each Sex the Two best Gifts enjoy'd, <br>The Skill to write, the Modesty to hide; <br>Whilst none shou'd that Performance disbelieve, <br>Who led the Life, might the Directions give. <br>With such as These, whence He deriv'd his Blood, <br>Great on Record, or eminently Good, <br>Let Him be laid, till Death's long Night shall cease, <br>And breaking Glory interrupt the Peace. <br>Mean-while, ye living Parents, ease your Grief <br>By Tears, allow'd as Nature's due Relief. <br>For when we offer to the Pow'rs above, <br>Like You, the dearest Objects of our Love; <br>When, with that patient Saint in Holy Writ, <br>We've learnt at once to Grieve, and to Submit; <br>When contrite Sighs, like hallow'd Incense, rise <br>Bearing our Anguish to th' appeased Skies; <br>Then may those Show'rs, which take from Sorrow birth, <br>And still are tending tow'rd this baleful Earth, <br>O'er all our deep and parching Cares diffuse, <br>Like Eden's Springs, or Hermon's soft'ning Dews. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But lend your Succours, ye Almighty Pow'rs, <br>For as the Wound, the Balsam too is Yours. <br>In vain are Numbers, or persuasive Speech, <br>What Poets write, or what the Pastors teach, <br>Till You, who make, again repair the Breach. <br>For when to Shades of Death our Joys are fled, <br>When for a Loss, like This, our Tears are shed, <br>None can revive the Heart, but who can raise the Dead. <br>But yet, my Muse, if thou hadst softer Verse <br>Than e'er bewail'd the melancholy Herse; <br>If thou hadst Pow'r to dissipate the Gloom <br>Inherent to the Solitary Tomb; <br>To rescue thence the Memory and Air <br>Of what we lately saw so Fresh, so Fair; <br>Then shou'd this Noble Youth thy Art engage <br>To shew the Beauties of his blooming Age, <br>The pleasing Light, that from his Eyes was cast, <br>Like hasty Beams, too Vigorous to last; <br>Where the warm Soul, as on the Confines, lay <br>Ready for Flight, and for Eternal Day. <br>Gently dispos'd his Nature shou'd be shown, <br>And all the Mother's Sweetness made his Own. <br>The Father's Likeness was but faintly seen, <br>As ripen'd Fruits are figur'd by the Green. <br>Nor cou'd we hope, had he fulfill'd his Days, <br>He shou'd have reach'd WEYMOUTH's unequal'd Praise. <br>Still One distinguish'd plant each Lineage shews, <br>And all the rest beneath it's Stature grows. <br>Of Tully's Race but He possess'd the Tongue, <br>And none like Julius from the Caesars sprung. <br>Next, in his harmless Sports he shou'd be drawn <br>Urging his Courser, o'er the flow'ry Lawn; <br>Sprightly Himself, as the enliven'd Game, <br>Bold in the Chace, and full of gen'rous Flame; <br>Yet in the Palace, Tractable and Mild, <br>Perfect in all the Duties of a Child; <br>Which fond Reflection pleases, whilst it pains, <br>Like penetrating Notes of sad Harmonious Strains. <br>Selected Friendships timely he began, <br>And siezed in Youth that best Delight of Man, <br>Leaving a growing Race to mourn his End, <br>Their earliest and their Ages promis'd Friend. <br>But far away alas! that Prospect moves, <br>Lost in the Clouds, like distant Hills and Groves, <br>Whilst with encreasing Steps we all pursue <br>What Time alone can bring to nearer View, <br>That Future State, which Darkness yet involves, <br>Known but by Death, which ev'ry Doubt resolves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Kingsmill+Finch">Anne Kingsmill Finch</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345295" data-title="On the Death of the Honourable Mr. James Thynne de Anne Kingsmill Finch" data-description="Farewell, lov'd Youth! since 'twas the Will of Heaven 
So soon to take, what had so late been giv'n; 
And thus our Expectations to destroy, 
Raising a Grief, where we had form'd a Joy; 
Who once believ'd, it was the Fates Design 
In Him to double ..."></div>
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