LINES WRITTEN IN THE
ALBUM,
AT COSSEY-HALL, NORFOLK, THE SEAT OF SIR WILLIAM JERNINGHAM, BART .
AUGUST 4th , 1786.
ADVERTISEMENT.
AS a considerable part of the following lines are devoted to the memory of the late LADY JERNINGHAM; a few copies of them are printed, at the solicitation of several of her friends, who wish to preserve this imperfect delineation of her character.
LINES WRITTEN IN THE
ALBUM,
at COSSEY-HALL, NORFOLK.
I.
THOU, to whose sacred page the parting guest
Confides the workings of his grateful breast,
With awful pleasure o'er thy form I bend
My gift to bring—as brother, guest, and friend.
Farewell, ye shades! (ah! not to fame unknown)
Where Elegance has rear'd her attic throne:
Whose beauties, to the pure of taste address'd,
In Nature's charms munificently dress'd;
Whose soft amenity, with grace combin'd,
Display the emblem of the master's mind:
Farewell!—Say, shall I not regret the bow'r
Where social intercourse endear'd the hour;
Where she, whose footsteps bless this sylvan seat,
The pride and mistress of this calm retreat,
Her soul illum'd with Wisdom's piercing beam,
Sheds o'er the converse her enlight'ning gleam?
By native Taste, that sure directress, led,
She stores her talents at the fountain-head.
So the bright Sun-flow'r, on the cultur'd plain,
Aspires impatient o'er her sister train,
Unfolds her bosom at the dawn of day
To catch the radiance of the solar ray.
II.
Ye scenes o'er which I cast a ling'ring view,
O'er which affection breathes a warm adieu,
That hour I now recall with pleasing pain,
Which gave your beauties to my wish again:
Yet then, as I approach'd your smiling shore,
Prompt expectation gladly flew before:
Wing'd with gay hope, as nearer still I drew,
Hills, plains, and woods assum'd a brighter hue:
Soft-wreath'd in lilac vestment, laughing May
With hailing aspect met me on the way:
The various vale with eager steps I press'd,
Praise on my tongue, and transport in my breast:
O'er each lov'd spot I sent a fond survey,
Where in the morn of life I wont to stray;
The winding walks by memory endear'd,
Where with the growing plants my youth was rear'd,
Embow'ring shades, in whos deep gloom immers'd
Reflection fed me, and the muses nurs'd,
And, screening from my view ambition's sky,
Pour'd other visions on my raptur'd eye.
III.
Yet, Album, ere the willing task I leave,
Warm from the heart these closing lines receive.
'Twas at the hour to contemplation due,
When evening meekly from the world withdrew,
Beneath an aged oak, in pensive mood,
I Sorrow's solitary captive stood;
When, from the rifted trunk's obscure recess,
A voice breath'd forth in accents of distress;
"Where! where is she of mild and rev'rend mien,
"Once the lov'd mistress of this sylvan scene?"—
"Fall'n—fall'n—fall'n—fall'n"—a distant voice replied:
The branches shook, as if to sense allied;
Wild Terror flung his strong enchantment round,
And evening hurried into night profound!
Now fond remembrance turns a willing sight,
To dwell on gayer scenes of past delight,
Pleas'd to behold her, midst the polish'd train,
With grace, with dignity, her part sustain.
To mild festivity by nature prone,
With inbred with peculiarly her own,
Prompt ev'ry sportive incident to seize,
Diffusing pleasure with a careless ease;
Of pow'r to charm invincibly possess'd,
Unfelt she glided into every breast.
There are, who, fram'd with an enlighten'd taste,
High on the critic form by judgment plac'd,
Who (marking well her sense with strength combin'd,
The scintillations of her playful mind,
An aptitude that never lost its aim)
With brilliant Sevigné inwreathe her name.
To discontent, the vice of age, unknown,
Her chearfulness maintain'd its envied throne:
The gay, the old, the learned, and the young,
And they whose heart pure elegance had strung,
By the soft pow'r of her enchantment won,
Would oft the glare of throng'd assemblies shun,
To court her ready wit's enliv'ning beam,
And bask beneath its undulating gleam.
Yet oft from these unnotic'd would she steal,
To soothe the bed-rid stretch'd on Torture's wheel,
To smoothe the furrow on Misfortune's brow,
To warm the timid and exalt the low,
With lenient hand administer relief,
And close the bleeding artery of grief,
Ah, ever dear! ah, venerable shade!
Indulge this honor by Affection paid.
Enthron'd in bliss, ah! yet forbear to shun
This holy tribute from a zealous son.
'Twas mine, attendant on thy evening ray,
To watch the sun-set of thy blameless day;
To see thee, weary of th' unequal strise,
Shed the faint glimm'rings of exhausted life,
And (heavenly moralist, sublimely great!)
At the dread opening of thy future state,
Teach by example, to thy latest breath,
Meekness in pain, and fortitude in death.