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AN ODE ON THE DEATH OF Mr. PELHAM.

An honeſt man's the nobleſt work of God!
POPE.

LONDON, Printed: And Sold by M. COOPER at the Globe in Pater-noſter-Row. MDCCLIV. (Price Six Pence.)

AN ODE ON THE DEATH OF Mr. PELHAM.

[]
LET others hail the riſing ſun,
I bow to that whoſe courſe is run,
Which ſets in endleſs night;
Whoſe rays benignant bleſs'd this iſle,
Made peaceful nature round us ſmile
With calm, but chearful light.
[4]
No bounty paſt provokes my praiſe,
No future proſpects prompt my lays,
From real grief they flow;
I catch th'alarm from Britain's fears,
My ſorrows fall with Britain's tears,
And join a nation's woe.
See—as you paſs the crowded ſtreet,
Deſpondence clouds each face you meet,
All their loſt friend deplore:
You read in ev'ry penſive eye,
You hear in ev'ry broken ſigh,
That PELHAM is no more.
If thus each Briton be alarm'd,
Whom but his diſtant influence warm'd,
What grief their breaſts muſt rend,
Who in his private virtues bleſs'd,
By nature's deareſt tyes poſſeſs'd
The HUSBAND, FATHER, FRIEND.
[5]
What! mute ye bards?—no mournful verſe,
No chaplets to adorn his hearſe,
To crown the good and juſt?
Your flow'rs in warmer regions bloom,
You ſeek no penſions from the tomb,
No laurels from the duſt.
When pow'r departed with his breath,
The ſons of flatt'ry fled from death:
Such inſects ſwarm at noon.
Not for herſelf my muſe is griev'd,
She never aſk'd, nor e'er receiv'd,
One miniſterial boon.
For what peculiar ſtrange offence,
Have we incens'd Omnipotence,
To blaſt our coming May?
Is it a warning to the times?
Is it a puniſhment for crimes?
That PELHAM'S ſnatch'd away?
[6]
Uncheck'd by ſhame, unaw'd by dread,
When vice triumphant rears her head,
Vengeance can ſleep no more;
The evil angel ſtalks at large,
The good ſubmits, reſigns his charge,
And quits th'unhallow'd ſhore.
The ſame ſad morn* to Church and State
(So for our ſins 'twas fix'd by fate)
A double ſtroke was giv'n;
Black as the whirlwinds of the north,
St. J—n's fell genius iſſu'd forth,
And PELHAM'S fled to heav'n!
By angels watch'd in Eden's bow'rs,
Our parents paſs'd their peaceful hours,
Nor guilt nor pain they knew;
But on the day which uſher'd in
The hell-born train of mortal ſin,
The heav'nly guard withdrew.
[7]
Look down, much honor'd Shade, below!
Still let thy pity aid our woe;
Stretch out thy healing hand;
Reſume thoſe feelings, which on earth
Proclaim'd thy patriot love and worth,
And ſav'd a ſinking land.
Search, with thy more than mortal eye,
The breaſts of all thy friends: deſcry
What there has got poſſeſſion.
See if thy unſuſpecting heart,
In ſome for truth miſtook not art,
For principle, profeſſion.
From theſe, the peſts of human kind,
Whom royal bounty cannot bind,
Protect our parent King:
Unmaſk their treach'ry to his ſight,
Drag forth the vipers into light,
And cruſh them ere they ſting.
[8]
If ſuch his truſt and honors ſhare,
Again exert thy guardian care,
Each venom'd heart diſcloſe;
On Him, on Him, our all depends,
Oh ſave him from his treach'rous friends,
He cannot fear his foes.
Whoe'er ſhall at the helm preſide,
Still let thy prudence be his guide,
To ſtem the troubled wave;
But chiefly whiſper in his ear,
"That GEORGE is open, juſt, ſincere,
"And dares to ſcorn a knave."
No ſelfiſh views t'oppreſs mankind,
No mad ambition fir'd thy mind,
To purchaſe fame with blood;
Thy boſom glow'd with purer heat;
Convinc'd that to be truly great,
Is only to be good.
[9]
To hear no lawleſs paſſions call,
To ſerve thy King, yet feel for all,
Such was thy glorious plan!
Wiſdom with gen'rous love took part,
Together work'd thy head and heart,
The Miniſter and Man.
Propitious heav'n extend thy care,
Accept a ſuppliant nation's pray'r,
A nation's loſs ſupply;
To us another PELHAM give,
Who may like him applauded live,
Like him lamented die.
FINIS.
Notes
*
The 6th of March, 1754, was remarkable for the publication of the Works of a late Lord, and the death of Mr. PELHAM.
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TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4078 An ode on the death of Mr Pelham. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5CC5-F