Poems (Sewell)/To the Memory of Mrs. Simpson

by Mary Young Sewell

TO THE MEMORY of Mrs. SIMPSON, OF BABWORTH, IN NOTTINGHAMSHIRE. 1791.

Oh thou! whose mournful lyre can yield relief,
And still is faithful to the notes of grief!
Come pensive Muse! instruct me to reveal
What Nature's doom'd most exquisite to feel.
Teach me, oh plaintive Muse! in soothing strain,
To paint the object of a Mother's pain:
A Husband's poignant anguish to declare—
To paint the young, the virtuous, and the fair!
Snatch'd from those arms, that ever could enfold;
The melting eye, exalting to behold!
The ear that bless'd her, and the heart that knew—
The lovely Harriet from the world withdrew!
Oh! she was rescued from a world of sin.
As fair without, as excellent within!—
The duteous Daughter, and the faithful Wife,
She chear'd the intercourse of social life;
With any a gentle art, Retirement grac'd,
And varied Nature with the charms of Taste.
For her were Sense and Novelty combin'd,
The softest graces with the firmest mind.—
That voice angelic—soothing, sweet and clear,
Alas! was too sublime for mortal ear:
Tun'd to the nobler strains of Joy Above,
Now may it sing of pure Celestial Love;
And pious Friendship dares not to deplore
The dulcet note that charms its grief no more.—

Nor time, fair nymph, nor silence can efface,
Each wond'rous talent—each peculiar grace.
Blest in a parent—oh! supremely blest!
Who form'd the feelings of thy youthful breast,
Who guided thought, and watchful of thy pow'rs,
Enrich'd the current of thy fleeting hours:
In tend'rest Innocence—in pliant Youth,
Thy piercing eye beheld the form of Truth.
No op'ning bud was lost—a Mother's care
Bestow'd the culture on a plant so fair!—
Oh thou! whose kindness—whose benignant aid,
Can bring forth Misery from its deepest shade!
Her trembling form can shelter and protect,
And rescue from the frowns of cold neglect;
Whose zeal can suff'ring Innocence display,
And gild its virtues with the light of day.
Oh Thou! whose bright example was design'd
To teach, reproach, and edify mankind!
How blest, Eliza,^[1] must thy pupil be;
How bright the virtue that was form'd by thee.

And ye, sweet Innocents! who still retain
That precious care the orphan, seeks in vain,
With such a Father, such a friend engross'd,
Oh may ye never feel a Mother lost!
Still may ye live, soft comfort to impart,
To sooth the anguish of a parent's heart:
Oh! may ye learn, how far intrinsic worth
Can add new dignity to noble birth,
And piety sincere a balm can find,
To ease the anguish of the tend'rest mind!

1. The late worthy and respected Lady Elizabeth Worsley.