Poems (Sewell)/Lines to the Memory of W. H. Bevan, Esq.
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LINES,TO THE MEMORY OFWILLIAM HIBBS BEVAN, Esq.
OF LINCOLN'S INN,Who died October 13, 1794.
OF LINCOLN'S INN,Who died October 13, 1794.
Come, bright ingenuous Truth, your loss deplore,
Come Friendship weep, for Bevan is no more!
Come injur'd Innocence, that sought redress,
And heav'n-born Charity, that loves to bless,
And Gratitude—for ev'ry heart he knew,
His gen'rous cares might render grateful too!
Come round his grave—lament the awful doom,
Which laid your gentle patron in the tomb!—
Oh hapless Byfleet! never more your bow'rs,
Shall sooth the sweet retirement of his hours!
No more the tender Sire his day employs,
To trace with eager step his boasted joys,
Which centre in his wife and lovely boys;
While conscious Hope his sparkling eye wou'd cheer,
And say, his heart's delight was treasur'd here.
Dire was the stroke, unerring was the dart,
Which pierc'd the Father's, Friend's, and Husband's heart!
The Brother too!—and oh! resistless tore
The softest ties Affection ever wore.—
The friend of social Ease and blameless Mirth,
Shall droop in sadness o'er his silent earth!
In feeble accents must the Muse declare,
The native worth which once was cherish'd there.
Clear was his judgment, and with wit refin'd,
And humble diffidence adorn'd his mind:
His modest wisdom glow'd, serenely bright,
Yet meekly shone, with no obtrusive light;
Like some fair star, it cast its beams around,
To guide the weak—the tim'rous not confound!
His courteous spirit found some gentle power,
To cheer the gloom that shades the social hour;
Ardent to serve, and lib'ral to commend,
The frank adviser, and the impartial Friend!
Each valued hour of life he seem'd to live,
And pardon'd wrongs, as Christians can forgive!
Short was his race, by ling'ring Time unchill'd,
Yet righteous Heaven beheld his course fulfill'd;
Its sacred laws within his bosom glow'd,
And cheer'd the prospect till his last abode!
Oh thou! the dear companion of his soul,
Whose griefs in vain ev'n Friendship wou'd controul!
While Sympathy bestows its gentlest art,
And Pity yields thee half her bleeding heart.
Soft be thy tears—since him thou dost lament,
Has left the mem'ry of a life well spent.—
Oh dear Remembrance! in thy conscious breast,
'Twill yield the future hour of virtuous rest;
Soft as seraphic sounds, 'twill charm thy grief,
And that which points the sting will bring relief.
Oh may the charm, which op'ning Virtue wears,
Supply a Mother's breast with gentlest cares!
Devotion too—no frighted stranger there,
Demands the mourner for her tend'rest care:
Religion speaks—she speaks of Peace Divine—
'Tis her's alone to conquer woes like thine,
And point sweet Hope to that celestial shore,
Where Love, immortal grown, shall weep no more!
Come Friendship weep, for Bevan is no more!
Come injur'd Innocence, that sought redress,
And heav'n-born Charity, that loves to bless,
And Gratitude—for ev'ry heart he knew,
His gen'rous cares might render grateful too!
Come round his grave—lament the awful doom,
Which laid your gentle patron in the tomb!—
Oh hapless Byfleet! never more your bow'rs,
Shall sooth the sweet retirement of his hours!
No more the tender Sire his day employs,
To trace with eager step his boasted joys,
Which centre in his wife and lovely boys;
While conscious Hope his sparkling eye wou'd cheer,
And say, his heart's delight was treasur'd here.
Dire was the stroke, unerring was the dart,
Which pierc'd the Father's, Friend's, and Husband's heart!
The Brother too!—and oh! resistless tore
The softest ties Affection ever wore.—
The friend of social Ease and blameless Mirth,
Shall droop in sadness o'er his silent earth!
In feeble accents must the Muse declare,
The native worth which once was cherish'd there.
Clear was his judgment, and with wit refin'd,
And humble diffidence adorn'd his mind:
His modest wisdom glow'd, serenely bright,
Yet meekly shone, with no obtrusive light;
Like some fair star, it cast its beams around,
To guide the weak—the tim'rous not confound!
His courteous spirit found some gentle power,
To cheer the gloom that shades the social hour;
Ardent to serve, and lib'ral to commend,
The frank adviser, and the impartial Friend!
Each valued hour of life he seem'd to live,
And pardon'd wrongs, as Christians can forgive!
Short was his race, by ling'ring Time unchill'd,
Yet righteous Heaven beheld his course fulfill'd;
Its sacred laws within his bosom glow'd,
And cheer'd the prospect till his last abode!
Oh thou! the dear companion of his soul,
Whose griefs in vain ev'n Friendship wou'd controul!
While Sympathy bestows its gentlest art,
And Pity yields thee half her bleeding heart.
Soft be thy tears—since him thou dost lament,
Has left the mem'ry of a life well spent.—
Oh dear Remembrance! in thy conscious breast,
'Twill yield the future hour of virtuous rest;
Soft as seraphic sounds, 'twill charm thy grief,
And that which points the sting will bring relief.
Oh may the charm, which op'ning Virtue wears,
Supply a Mother's breast with gentlest cares!
Devotion too—no frighted stranger there,
Demands the mourner for her tend'rest care:
Religion speaks—she speaks of Peace Divine—
'Tis her's alone to conquer woes like thine,
And point sweet Hope to that celestial shore,
Where Love, immortal grown, shall weep no more!