VERSES

TO THE

MEMORY OF GARRICK.

IF dying excellence deserves a tear,
If fond remembrance still is cherish'd here,
Can we persist to bid your sorrows flow
For fabled suff'rers, and delusive woe ?

Or with quaint smiles dismiss the plaintive strain,
Point the quick jest—indulge the comic vein-
Ere yet to buried Roscius we assign

One kind regret—one tributary line!

His fame requires we act a tenderer part:-
His memory claims the tear you gave his art!
The general voice, the meed of mournful verse,
The splendid sorrows that adorn'd his hearse,
The throng that mourn'd as their dead favourite pass'd,
The graced respect that claim'd him to the last,
While Shakespeare's image from its hallow'd base
Seem'd to prescribe the grave, and point the place,—
Nor these, nor all the sad regrets that flow
From fond fidelity's domestic woe,-

So much are Garrick's praise-so much his due—
As on this spot-one tear bestow'd by you.

Amid the arts which seek ingenuous fame,
Our toil attempts the most precarious claim!
To him, whose mimic pencil wins the prize,
Obedient Fame immortal wreaths supplies:

Whate'er of wonder Reynolds now may raise,
Raphael still boasts cotemporary praise:

Each dazzling light and gaudier bloom subdued,
With undiminish'd awe his works are view'd:
E'en Beauty's portrait wears a softer prime,
Touch'd by the tender hand of mellowing Time.
The patient Sculptor owns an humbler part,
A ruder toil, and more mechanic art;

Content with slow and timorous stroke to trace
The lingering line, and mould the tardy grace:
But once achieved-though barbarous wreck o'erthrow
The sacred fane, and lay its glories low,
Yet shall the sculptured ruin rise to day,
Graced by defect, and worship'd in decay;
Th' enduring record bears the artist's name,
Demands his honours, and asserts his fame.
Superior hopes the Poet's bosom fire;
O proud distinction of the sacred lyre!
Wide as th' inspiring Phoebus darts his ray,
Diffusive splendor gilds his votary's lay.
Whether the song heroic woes rehearse,
With epic grandeur, and the pomp of verse;
Or, fondly gay, with unambitious guile,
Attempt no prize but favouring beauty's smile;
Or bear dejected to the lonely grove

The soft despair of unprevailing love,—
Whate'er the theme-through every age and clime
Congenial passions meet th' according rhyme;
The pride of glory-pity's sigh sincere-
Youth's earliest blush-and beauty's virgin tear.
Such is their meed-their honours thus secure,
Whose arts yield objects, and whose works endure.

The Actor, only, shrinks from Time's award;
Feeble tradition is his memory's guard;

By whose faint breath his merits must abide,
Unvouch'd by proof-to substance unallied!
E'en matchless Garrick's art, to heav'n resign'd,
No fix'd effect, no model leaves behind!

The grace of action—the adapted mien,
Faithful as nature to the varied scene;

Th' expressive glance-whose subtle comment draws
Entranced attention, and a mute applause;
Gesture that marks, with force and feeling fraught,
A sense in silence, and a will in thought;
Harmonious speech, whose pure and liquid tone
Gives verse a music, scarce confess'd its own;
As light from gems assumes a brighter ray,

And clothed with orient hues, transcends the day!—
Passion's wild break and frown that awes the sense,
And every charm of gentler eloquence—

All perishable!—like th' electric fire,

But strike the frame-and as they strike expire;
Incense too pure a bodied flame to bear,

Its fragrance charms the sense, and blends with air.
Where then-while sunk in cold decay he lies,
And pale eclipse for ever veils those eyes—
Where is the blest memorial that ensures
Our Garrick's fame?-whose is the trust?-Tis yours.
And O! by every charm his art essay'd
To sooth your cares!-by every grief allay'd!
By the hush'd wonder which his accents drew!
By his last parting tear, repaid by you!
By all those thoughts, which many a distant night
Shall mark his memory with a sad delight!-