II.

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

STRIKE a louder, loftier lyre;
Bolder, sweeter strains employ;
Wake, Remembrance! - and inspire
Sorrow with the song of joy.

Who was He, for whom our tears

Flow'd, and will not cease to flow?

-Full of honours and of years,
In the dust his head lies low.

Yet resurgent from the dust,
Springs aloft his mighty name;

For the memory of the Just
Lives in everlasting fame.

He was One, whose open face
Did his inmost heart reveal;
One, who wore with meekest grace,

On his forehead, Heaven's broad seal.

Kindness all his looks express'd,
Charity was every word;
Him the eye beheld, and bless'd;

And the ear rejoiced that heard.

Like a patriarchal sage,

Holy, humble, courteous, mild, He could blend the awe of age

With the sweetness of a child.

As a cedar of the LORD,

On the height of Lebanon, Shade and shelter doth afford,

From the tempest and the sun :—

While in green luxuriant prime,
Fragrant airs its boughs diffuse,
From its locks it shakes sublime,

O'er the hills, the morning dews:

Thus he flourish'd, tall and strong,
Glorious in perennial health;
Thus he scatter'd, late and long,
All his plenitude of wealth!.

Wealth, which prodigals had deem'd Worth the soul's uncounted cost; Wealth, which misers had esteem'd Cheap, though heaven itself were lost.

This, with free unsparing hand
To the poorest child of need,
This he threw around the land,
Like the sower's precious seed.

In the world's great harvest day,
Every grain on every ground,
Stony, thorny, by the way,

Shall an hundred fold be found.

Yet, like noon's refulgent blaze, Though he shone from east to west, Far withdrawn from public gaze, Secret goodness pleased him best.

As the sun, retired from sight,
Through the purple evening gleams,
Or, unrisen, clothes the night,
In the morning's golden beams :

Thus beneath the' horizon dim,
He would hide his radiant head,
And on eyes that saw not him,
Light and consolation shed.

Oft his silent spirit went,

Like an angel from the throne,
On benign commissions bent,
In the fear of GOD alone.

Then the widow's heart would sing,
As she turn'd her wheel, for joy;
Then the bliss of hope would spring
On the outcast orphan boy.

To the blind, the deaf, the lame,
To the ignorant and vile,
Stranger, captive, slave, he came
With a welcome and a smile.

Help to all he did dispense,

Gold, instruction, raiment, food,

Like the gifts of Providence,
To the evil and the good.

Deeds of mercy, deeds unknown,
Shall eternity record,

Which he durst not call his own,
For he did them to the LORD.

As the Earth puts forth her flowers, Heaven-ward breathing from below; As the clouds descend in showers, When the southern breezes blow.

Thus his renovated mind,

Warm with pure celestial love, Shed its influence on mankind, While its hopes aspired above.

Full of faith at length he died,
And victorious in the race,
Won the crown for which he vied

- Not of merit, but of grace.

III.

A GOOD MAN'S MONUMENT.

THE pyre, that burns the aged Bramin's bones
Runs cold in blood, and issues living groans,
When the whole Haram with the husband dies,
And demons dance around the sacrifice.

In savage realms, when tyrants yield their breath, Herds, flocks, and slaves, attend their lord in death; Arms, chariots, carcasses, a horrid heap,

Rust at his side, or share his mouldering sleep.

When heroes fall triumphant on the plain; For millions conquer'd, and ten thousands slain; For cities levell'd, kingdoms drench'd in blood, Navies annihilated on the flood;

-The pageantry of public grief requires

The splendid homage of heroic lyres;

And genius moulds impassion'd brass to breathe
The deathless spirit of the dust beneath,
Calls marble honour from its cavern'd bed,

And bids it live

-the proxy of the dead.

Reynolds expires, a nobler chief than these; No blood of widows stains his obsequies;