No drugs the kindly wish fulfil,

Difeafe eludes the doctor's skill:

The poifon fpreads through all the frame,
Ferments, and kindles into flame.
From fide to fide Honorio turns,
And now with thirst infatiate burns:
His eyes refign their wonted grace,
Those friendly lamps expire apace!
The brain's an useless organ grown,
And Reafon tumbled from his throne.
But while the purple furges glow,
The currents thicken as they flow:
The blood in ev'ry diftant part,
Stagnates and difappoints the heart;
Defrauded of it's crimson store,
The vital engine plays no more.
Honorio dead, the fun'ral bell
Call'd ev'ry friend to bid farewel.
I join'd the melancholy bier,
And dropp'd the unavailing tear.

The clock ftruck twelve-when nature fought

Repose from all the pangs of thought;

And while my limbs were funk to rest,
A vifion footh'd my troubled breast.

I dream'd the spectre, Death, appear'd!
I dream'd his hollow voice I heard!
Methought th' imperial tyrant wore
A ftate no prince affum'd before :
All nature fetch'd a gen'ral groan,
And lay expiring round his throne.

I gaz'd-when straight arose to fight,
The most detefted fiend of night.
He shuffled with unequal pace,

And confcious fhame deform'd his face.
With jealous leer he fquinted round,
Or fix'd his eyes upon the ground.
2 X

From

From hell this frightful monfter came,
Sin was his fire, and Guilt his name.
This fury, with officious care,
Waited around the fov'reign's chair;
In robes of terrors drefs'd the king,
And arm'd him with a baneful fting;
Gave fierceness to the tyrant's eye,
And hung the fword upon his thigh.
Diseases next, a hideous crowd!
Proclaim'd their mafter's empire loud;
And, all obedient to his will,
Flew in commiffion'd troops to kill.'

A rifing whirlwind fhakes the poles,
And lightning glares, and thunder rolls.
The monarch and his train prepare
To range the foul tempeftuous air,
Straight to his fhoulders he applies
Two pinions of enormous fize!
Methought I faw the ghaftly form

Stretch his black wings, and mount the ftorm:
When Fancy's airy horfe I ftrode,

And join'd the army on the road.

As the grim conq'ror urg'd his way,

He scatter'd terror and difmay.

Thousands a penfive afpect wore,

Thoufands who fneer'd at death before.

Life's records rife on ev'ry fide,

And Confcience spreads thofe volumes wide;
Which faithful regifters were brought
By pale-ey'd Fear and busy Thought.
Thofe faults which artful men conceal,
Stand here engrav'd with pen of steel,
By Confcience, that impartial fcribe!
Whofe honeft palm difdains a bribe:
Their actions all like criticks view,
And all like faithful criticks too.

As

As Guilt had stain'd life's various stage,
What tears of blood bedew'd the page!
All fhudder'd at the black account,
And scarce believ'd the vast amount!
All vow'd a fudden change of heart,
Would Death relent, and sheathe his dart.
But, when the awful foe withdrew,
All to their follies fled anew.

So when a wolf, who fcours at large,
Springs on the fhepherd's fleecy charge,
The flock in wild disorder fly,
And caft behind a frequent eye;
But when the victim's borne away,
They rush to pafture and to play..
Indulge my dream, and let my pen
Paint those unmeaning creatures, men.
Carus, with pain and fickness worn,
Chides the flow night, and fighs for morn.
Soon as he views the eastern ray,

He mourns the quick return of day;
Hourly laments protracted breath,

And courts the healing hand of Death.
Verres, opprefs'd with guilt and shame,
Shipwreck'd in fortune, health, and fame,
Pines for his dark fepulchral bed,
To mingle with th' unheeded dead.

With fourscore years grey Natho bends,
A burden to himself and friends ;
And with impatience seems to wait
The friendly hand of ling'ring Fate.
So hirelings with their labour done,
And often eye the western sun.

The monarch hears their various grief,
Defcends, and brings the wifh'd relief.
On Death, with wild furprize they star'd,
All feem'd averfe! all unprepar'd!

As torrents fweep with rapid force,
The grave's pale chief purfu'd his courfe.
No human pow'r can or withstand,
Or fhun the conquests of his hand.
Oh! could the prince of upright mind,
And, as a guardian angel, kind,
With ev'ry heart-felt worth befide,
Turn the keen fhaft of Death aside,
When would the brave Auguftus join
The afhes of his facred line!

But Death maintains no partial war,
He mocks a fultan, or a czar :
He lays his iron hand on all-

Yes, kings, and fons of kings, muft fall!
A truth Britannia lately felt,

And trembled to her centre

.*!

Could ableft statesmen ward the blow,
Would Granville own this common foe;

For

greater talents ne'er were known
To grace the fav'rite of a throne.

Could genius fave-wit, learning, fire-
Tell me, would Chesterfield expire!
Say, would his glorious fun decline,
And fet like your pale ftar or mine?
Could ev'ry virtue of the sky-
Would Herring +, Butler t, Secker, die!
Why this addrefs to peerage all-

Untitled Allen's virtues call!

If Allen's worth demands a place,
Lords, with your leave, 'tis no difgrace.

Tho' high your ranks in heralds' rolls,
Know, Virtue, too, ennobles fouls.

*Referring to the death of his late Royal Highness Frederick Prince of

Wales.

Archbishop of Canterbury.

Late Bishop of Durham.
Bishop of Oxford.

By

By her that private man's renown'd,
Who pours a thousand bleflings round.
While Allen takes Affliction's part,
And draws out all his gen'rous heart;
Anxious to seize the fleeting day,
Left unimprov'd it steals away:
While thus he walks, with jealous ftrife,
Thro' goodness, as he walks thro' life,
Shall not I mark his radiant path!
Rife, Mufe, and fing the Man of Bath!
Publish abroad, could Goodness fave,
Allen would difappoint the grave;
Tranflated to the heav'nly fhore,
Like Enoch, when his walk was o'er.

Nor Beauty's pow'rful pleas reftrain-
Her pleas are trifling, weak, and vain ;
For women pierce with fhrieks the air,
Smite their bare breafts, and rend their hair;
All have a doleful tale to tell,

How friends, fons, daughters, husbands fell!
Alas! is life our fav'rite theme-

'Tis all a vain or painful dream :

A dream which fools or cowards prize,
But flighted by the brave or wife.
Who lives, for others ills must groan,
Or bleed for forrows of his own;
Muft' journey on with weeping eye,
Then pant, fink, agonize, and die..

And shall a man arraign the skies,

• Because man lives, and mourns, and dies? Impatient reptile!' Reafon cry'd;

Arraign thy paffion and thy pride:

Retire, and commune with thy heart;

• Ask, whence thou cam’st, and what thou art! Explore thy body and thy mind,

Thy station too, why here affign'd,

The