WHO DIED IN THE NINETEENTH YEAR OF HIS ACE.

THINE

eyes, dear youth! are clos'd in night;

Thy thread, alas! is spun;

Cut off, at once, from life and light,

Ere half thy fands were run!

How short the date of human things!
How tranfient are the joys!

The flower, that in the morning fprings,
The evening blast destroys!

See where, absorbed in filent grief,
The childlefs mother ftands !

Some pitying angel bring relief,

And hold her frantic hands!

O, loft too foon, lamented fhade!

Juft opening into man,

While cuftom rul'd, and paffion fway'd,

Ere reafons power began

Yet,

Yet, let me here the word recall,

These rash repinings fhun

'Twas heaven's high will decreed his fall; And let heaven's will be done!

Let all who lov'd his worth, his truth,
Remember them with groans !

And all the frailties of his youth
Be buried with his bones!

QUI

ELEGY

No weeping confort smooth'd his couch;

No anxious parent nigh;

No kindred friend his end to vouch,

Or close his afking eye.

Silent is every venal bard;

Mute every fawning tongue; No dirges in the streets are heard;

No folemn knell is rung.

Suppose

Suppofe them all but empty fhow,

Where is decorum fled?

Has cuftom nothing to beftow;
Not one forc'd tear to fhed?

Joy mark'd the dawning of his reign;
All hearts his presence fir'd;

But with him died the hope of gain,

And gratitude expir'd.

Envy, thro' mifts that all things views,

His life prefumes to scan

n;

And flander tells us, wondrous news!

He was, alas! but man.

Who?-Darkness hovering o'er the land

To polish'd arts averse

Who firft ftretch'd out his foftering hand,
And bade the clouds disperse?

While here fair science holds a place,
Or learning bears a name,

Regret his memory fhall trace,

And truth enhance his fame.

'Tis

:

'Tis RUTLAND's due, the great defign
Our annals will atteft:

May wreaths unfading grace his shrine,
In peace his ashes reft!