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THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS SACRED TO THE MEMORY Of HER late ROYAL HIGHNESS The PRINCESS DOWAGER of WALES, Spoken and Sung in the GREAT ROOM at Soho-Square, on Thurſday the 20th of February.
LONDON: Printed for W. WOODFALL, in White-Friars. M,DCC,LXXII.
Advertiſement.
[]THE following may more properly be termed a Com⯑pilation than a Poem. It was prepared for the Compoſer in little more than two days; and may therefore rather be conſidered as an induſtrious Effort of Gratitude than of Genius.
In juſtice to the Compoſer it may likewiſe be right to inform the Public, that the Muſic was adapted in a period of time equally ſhort.
[]
SPEAKERSMr. LEE and Mrs. BELLAMY.
SINGERSMr. CHAMPNES, Mr. DINE, AND Miſs JAMESON; WITH Twelve CHORUS SINGERS.
THE MUSIC PREPARED AND ADAPTED BY Signor VENTO.
[5]THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS.
OVERTURE a ſolemn Dirge.
AIR. TRIO.
Ariſe ye ſons of worth, ariſe
And waken every note of woe,
When truth and virtue reach the ſkies,
'Tis ours to weep the want below.
CHORUS.
When truth and virtue reach the ſkies,
'Tis ours to weep the want below.
MAN SPEAKER.
[2]THE praiſe attending pomp and power,
The incenſe given to kings,
Are but the trappings of an hour,
Mere tranſitory things!
The baſe beſtow them; but the good agree
To ſpurn the venal gifts as flattery.—
But when to pomp, and power, are join'd
An equal dignity of mind;
When titles are the ſmalleſt claim;
When wealth, and rank, and noble blood,
But aid the power of doing good,
Then all their trophies laſt—and flattery turns to fame!
Bleſt ſpirit thou, whoſe fame juſt born to bloom,
Shall ſpread and flouriſh from the tomb,
How haſt thou left mankind for heaven!
Even now reproach and faction mourn,
[3]And, wondering how their rage was born,
Requeſt to be forgiven!
Alas! they never had thy hate;
Unmoved in conſcious rectitude
Thy towering mind ſelf-centered ſtood,
Nor wanted Man's opinion to be great.
In vain, to charm thy raviſhed ſight,
A thouſand gifts would fortune ſend;
In vain, to drive thee from the right,
A thouſand ſorrows urged thy end:
Like ſome well-faſhion'd arch thy patience ſtood,
And purchaſed ſtrength from its encreaſing load.
Pain met thee like a friend that ſet thee free,
Affliction ſtill is virtue's opportunity!
Virtue, on herſelf relying,
Every paſſion huſh'd to reſt,
Loſes every pain of dying
In the hopes of being bleſt.
[4]Every added pang ſhe ſuffers,
Some encreaſing good beſtows,
And every ſhock that malice offers,
Only rocks her to repoſe.
SONG, By a MAN. Affettuoſo.
Virtue, on herſelf relying,
Every paſſion huſh'd to reſt,
Loſes every pain in dying
In the hopes of being bleſt.
Every added Pang ſhe ſuffers,
Some encreaſing good beſtows,
Every ſhock that malice offers,
Only rocks her to repoſe.
WOMAN SPEAKER.
Yet ah! what terrors frown'd upon her fate,
Death with its formidable band,
[5]Fever, and pain, and pale conſumptive care,
Determined took their ſtand.
Nor did the cruel ravagers deſign
To finiſh all their efforts at a blow;
But, miſchievouſly ſlow,
They robbed the relic and defac'd the ſhrine.—
With unavailing grief,
Deſpairing of relief,
Her weeping children round,
Beheld each hour
Death's growing pow'r,
And trembled as he frown'd.
As helpleſs friends who view from ſhore
The labouring ſhip, and hear the tempeſt roar,
While winds and waves their wiſhes croſs;
They ſtood while hope and comfort fail,
[6]Not to aſſiſt, but to bewail
The inevitable loſs.—
Relentleſs tyrant, at thy call
How do the good, the virtuous fall?
Truth, beauty, worth, and all that moſt engage,
But wake thy vengeance and provoke thy rage.
SONG by a MAN. Baſſo. Staccato. Spirituoſo.
When vice my dart and ſcythe ſupply,
How great a king of Terrors I!
If folly, fraud, your hearts engage,
Tremble ye mortals at my rage.
Fall, round me fall ye little things,
Ye ſtateſmen, warriors, poets, kings,
If virtue fail her counſel ſage
Tremble ye mortals at my rage.
MAN SPEAKER.
[7]Yet let that wiſdom, urged by her example,
Teach us to eſtimate what all muſt ſuffer:
Let us prize death as the beſt gift of nature,
As a ſafe inn where weary travellers,
When they have journeyed thro' a world of cares,
May put off life and be at reſt for ever.
Groans, weeping friends, indeed, and gloomy ſables
May oft diſtract us with their ſad ſolemnity.
The preparation is the executioner.
Death, when unmaſked, ſhews me a friendly face,
And is a terror only at a diſtance:
For as the line of life conducts me on
To death's great court, the proſpect ſeems more fair;
'Tis nature's kind retreat, that's always open
To take us in when we have drain'd the cup
Of life, or worn our days to wretchedneſs.—
[8]In that ſecure, ſerene retreat,
Where all the humble, all the great,
Promiſcuouſly recline;
Where wildly huddled to the eye,
The beggars' pouch and princes' purple lie,
May every bliſs be thine.
And ah! bleſt ſpirit, whereſoe'er thy flight,
Through rolling worlds, or fields of liquid light,
May cherubs welcome their expected gueſt,
May ſaints with ſongs receive thee to their reſt,
May peace that claim'd while here thy warmeſt love,
May bliſsful endleſs peace be thine above.
[9]SONG, By a WOMAN. Amoroſo.
Lovely laſting peace below,
Comforter of every woe,
Heavenly born, and bred on high,
To crown the favourites of the ſky:
Lovely laſting peace appear,
This world itſelf, if thou art here,
Is once again with Eden bleſt,
And man contains it in his breaſt.
WOMAN SPEAKER.
Our vows are heard! Long, long to mortal eyes,
Her ſoul was fitting to its kindred ſkies:
Celeſtial-like her bounty fell,
Where modeſt want and patient ſorrow dwell.
Want paſs'd for merit at her door,
Unſeen the modeſt were ſupplied,
[10]Her conſtant pity fed the poor,
Then only poor, indeed, the day ſhe died.
And Oh, for this! while ſculpture decks thy ſhrine,
And art exhauſts profuſion round,
The tribute of a tear be mine,
A ſimple ſong, a ſigh profound.
There faith ſhall come, a pilgrim grey,
To bleſs the tomb that wraps thy clay;
And calm religion ſhall repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there.
Truth, fortitude, and friendſhip ſhall agree
To blend their virtues while they think of thee.
AIR. CHORUS. Pompoſo.
Let us, let all the world agree,
To profit by reſembling thee.
END OF THE FIRST PART.
PART II.
[11]OVERTURE PASTORALE.
MAN SPEAKER.
FAST by that ſhore where Thames' tranſlucent ſtream
Reflects new glories on his breaſt,
Where, ſplendid as the youthful poet's dream,
He forms a ſcene beyond Elyſium bleſt;
Where ſculptur'd elegance and native grace
Unite to ſtamp the beauties of the place;
[12]While, ſweetly blending, ſtill are ſeen
The wavy lawn, the ſloping green;
While novelty, with cautious cunning,
Through every maze of fancy running,
From China borrows aid to deck the ſcene.
There ſorrowing by the river's glaſſy bed,
Forlorn, a rural band complain'd,
All whom AUGUSTA's bounty fed,
All whom her clemency ſuſtain'd.
The good old ſire, unconſcious of decay,
The modeſt matron, clad in home-ſpun grey,
The military boy, the orphan'd maid,
The ſhatter'd veteran, now firſt diſmay'd;
Theſe ſadly join beſide the murmuring deep,
And as they view, the towers of Kew,
Call on their miſtreſs, now no more, and weep.
[13]CHORUS. Affettuoſo. Largo.
Ye ſhady walks, ye waving greens,
Ye nodding tow'rs, ye fairy ſcenes,
Let all your ecchoes now deplore,
That She who form'd your beauties is no more.
MAN SPEAKER.
Firſt of the train the patient ruſtic came,
Whoſe callous hand had form'd the ſcene,
Bending at once with ſorrow and with age,
With many a tear, and many a ſigh between,
And where, he cried, ſhall now my babes have bread,
Or how ſhall age ſupport its feeble fire?
No lord will take me now, my vigour fled,
Nor can my ſtrength perform what they require:
[14]Each grudging maſter keeps the labourer bare,
A ſleek and idle race is all their care.
My noble miſtreſs thought not ſo!
Her bounty, like the morning dew,
Unſeen, tho' conſtant, uſed to flow;
And as my ſtrength decay'd, her bounty grew.
WOMAN SPEAKER.
In decent dreſs, and coarſly clean,
The pious matron next was ſeen,
Claſp'd in her hand a godly book was borne,
By uſe and daily meditation worn:
That decent decent dreſs, this holy guide,
AUGUSTA's care had well ſupply'd.
And ah! ſhe cries, all woe begone,
What now remains for me?
[15]Oh! where ſhall weeping want repair
To aſk for charity?
Too late in life for me to aſk,
And ſhame prevents the deed,
And tardy, tardy are the times
To ſuccour ſhould I need.
But all my wants, before I ſpoke,
Were to my miſtreſs known;
She ſtill reliev'd, nor ſought my praiſe,
Contented with her own.
But every day her name I'll bleſs,
My morning prayer, my evening ſong,
I'll praiſe her while my life ſhall laſt,
A life that cannot laſt me long.
[16]SONG, By a WOMAN.
Each day, each hour, her name I'll bleſs,
My morning and my evening ſong,
And when in death my vows ſhall ceaſe,
My children ſhall the note prolong.
MAN SPEAKER.
The hardy veteran after ſtruck the ſight,
Scarr'd, mangl'd, maim'd in every part,
Lopp'd of his limbs in many a gallant fight,
In nought entire—except his heart:
Mute for a while, and ſullenly diſtreſs'd,
At laſt the impetuous ſorrow fir'd his breaſt.
Wild is the whirlwind rolling
O'er Africk's ſandy plain,
[17]And wild the tempeſt howling
Along the billow'd main:
But every danger felt before,
The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar,
Leſs dreadful ſtruck me with diſmay,
Than what I feel this fatal day.
Oh, let me fly a land that ſpurns the brave,
Oſwego's dreary ſhores ſhall be my grave;
I'll ſeek that leſs inhoſpitable coaſt,
And lay my body where my limbs were loſt.
[18]SONG by a MAN. Baſſo. Spirituoſo.
Old Edward's ſons, unknown to yield,
Shall crowd from Creſſy's laurell'd field
To do thy memory right:
For thine and Britain's wrongs they feel,
Again they ſnatch the gleamy ſteel,
And wiſh th' avenging fight.
WOMAN SPEAKER.
In innocence and youth complaining,
Next appear'd a lovely maid,
Affliction o'er each feature reigning,
Kindly came in beautiey's aid;
Every grace that grief diſpenſes,
Every glance that warms the ſoul,
[19]In ſweet ſucceſſion charm'd the ſenſes,
While pity harmoniz'd the whole.
The garland of beauty, 'tis thus ſhe would ſay,
No more ſhall my crook or my temple adorn,
I'll not wear a garland, AUGUSTA's away,
I'll not wear a garland until ſhe return:
But alas! that return I never ſhall ſee,
The ecchoes of Thames' ſhall my ſorrows proclaim,
There promis'd a lover to come, but oh me!
'Twas death, 'twas the death of my miſtreſs that came.
But ever, for ever, her image ſhall laſt,
I'll ſtrip all the Spring of its earlieſt bloom;
On her grave ſhall the cowſlip and primroſe be caſt,
And the new-bloſſom'd thorn ſhall whiten her tomb.
[20]SONG by a WOMAN. Paſtorale.
With garlands of beauty the queen of the May
No more will her crook or her temples adorn;
For who'd wear a garland when ſhe is away,
When ſhe is remov'd, and ſhall never return?
On the grave of AUGUSTA theſe garlands be plac't,
We'll rifle the Spring of its earlieſt bloom,
And there ſhall the cowſlip and primroſe be caſt,
And the new-bloſſom'd thorn ſhall whiten her tomb.
CHORUS. Altro Modo.
On the grave of AUGUSTA this garland be plac't,
We'll rifle the Spring of its earlieſt bloom,
And there ſhall the cowſlip and primroſe be caſt,
And the tears of her country ſhall water her tomb.
THE END.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3506 Threnodia Augustalis sacred to the memory of Her late Royal Highness the Princess Dowager of Wales spoken and sung in the great room at Soho Square on Thursday the 20th of February. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5F58-8