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LINES WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM, AT COSSEY-HALL, NORFOLK, THE SEAT OF SIR WILLIAM JERNINGHAM, BART.

AUGUST 4th, 1786.

ADVERTISEMENT.

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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.

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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;
[4] 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:
[5] 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;
[6] 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,
[7] 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,
[8]
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.
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4402 Lines written in the album at Cossey Hall Norfolk the seat of Sir William Jerningham Bart August 4th 1786. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5F39-B