E P I S T L E 
 
 T O 
 
 A FRIEND, 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 J 0 HN THORNTON, Esq. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 4i AN EPISTLE TO AN EMINENT PAINTER ” 
 
 CUJUS EGO INTERITU TOTA DE MENTE FUGAVI 
 STUDIA, ATQUE OMNES DELICIAS ANIMI. 
 
 NOTESCATQUE MAGIS MORTUUS ATQUE MAGIS. 
 
 Catullus. 
 
 THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for J. D O D S L E Y, in Pall-Mall. 
 
 M.DCC.LXXXII. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/epistletofriendo00hayl_0 
 

 *^B E 5= S5Sa= , ^ 
 
 EPISTLE, &e. 
 
 ‘jj'N vain, dear Monitor, thy kind defire 
 
 To wake the embers of poetic fire ! 
 
 To clear the mind, where Grief’s dark lhadows lower, 
 
 And Fancy dies by Sorrow’s freezing power ! 
 
 In vain would Friendfhip’s chearing voice fuggeft £j 
 
 Her flattering vifions to the Poet’s bread : ; 
 v 
 
 That public favor calls, with juft demand, 
 
 1 h’ expe&ed volume from his lingering hand : 
 
 Loft are thole anxious hopes, that eager pride, 
 
 P ,'*( ( r - *L 
 
 With thee, my Thornton, they declin’d, they died. 10 
 
 B 
 
 Friend 
 
Friend of my opening foul ! whofe love began 
 To hail thy Poet, ere he rank’d as man S 
 Whole praife, like dew-drops, which the early morn 
 Sheds with mild virtue on the vernal thorn. 
 
 Taught his young mind each iwell of thought to fhew, i tj; 
 And gave the germs of fancy ftrength to blow ! 
 
 Dear, firm affociate of his ftudious hour, 
 
 Who led his idler ftep to Learning’s bower ! 
 
 Tho’ young, imparting to his giddier youth 
 Thy third: of foience, and thy zeal for truth ! 20: 
 
 Ye towers of Granta, where our friendfhip grew. 
 
 And that pure mind expanded to my view, 
 
 Our love fraternal let your walls atteft. 
 
 Where Attic joys our letter’d evening bleft ; 
 
 Where midnight, from the chains of lleep reliev’d, 2 
 Stole on our focial ftudies unperceiv’d ! 
 
 But 
 
 On 
 
But not, my Thornton ! in that calm alone 
 Was thy mild genius, thy warm virtue known : 
 When manhood mark’d the hour for buly it rife, 
 And led us to the crowded maze of life, 
 
 Where honours dearly bought, and golden ipoil, 
 Tempt not the careleis Bard who {brinks from toil, 
 And whence to tweet retirement’s toothing ihade, 
 Love and the Mute thy willing friend convey’d ; 
 Thy foul, more firm to join the ftruggling crowd, 
 To nobler Themis toilfome homap-e vow’d. 
 
 With zeal, devoting to her {acred throne 
 A heart as uncorrupted as her own. 
 
 Still as thy mind, with manly powers endued, 
 
 The opening path of active life purfued, 
 
 And round the ripening field of bufinets rang’d, 
 Thy heart, unwarp’d, unharden’d, uneftrang’d, 
 
To early friendfhip ft ill retain’d its truth, 
 
 With all the warm integrity of youth. 
 
 Whene’er affliftion’s force thy friend oppreft, 
 Thou wer’t the rock on which his cares might reft • 
 From thy kind words his riling hopes would own 
 The charm of realbn in affection's tone. 
 
 Where is the loothing voice of equal power, 
 
 To take it’s anguifh from the prelent hour? 
 
 Beneath the preffure of a grief lb juft. 
 
 The lenient aid of hooks in vain I truft t 
 
 They, that could once the war of thought controul, 
 
 And banifh dilcord from the jarring loaf,, 
 
 Now irritate the mind, they tiled to heal. 
 
 They Ipeak too loudly o:f the lofs I feel. 
 
 Thou faithful cenlbr of the Poet’s ftrain, 
 
 No more lhalt thou his linking hope luftain^ 
 
6q 
 
 l 9 ] 
 
 No more, with ardent zeals enlivening fire, 
 
 Call from inglorious fliades his filent lyre : 
 
 No more, as in our days of pleafiire paft, 
 
 The eye of judgment o’er his labors caft ; 
 
 Keen to dilcern the blemifhes, that lurk 
 In the loofe texture of his growing work j 
 Eager to praile, yet refblute to blame, 
 
 Kind to his verle, but kinder to his fame- 
 
 How may the Mule, who prolper’d by thy care. 
 Now meet the public eye without deipair ? 
 
 Now, if harfh cenlures on her failings pour, 
 
 Her warmeft advocate can {peak no more : 
 
 Cold are thole lips, which breath’d the kind defence, 
 
 70 
 
 If {pleen’s proud cavil ftrain’d her tortur’d lenle ;; 
 
 Which bade her long to public praile alpire, 
 And call’d attention to her trembling lyre. 
 
75 
 
 { 10 ] 
 
 Ah ! could file now, thus petrified with grief, 
 
 Find in fome lighter lay a vain relief. 
 
 Still mull ihe deem fuch verle, if luch could be, 
 
 A wound to friendfiiip, and a crime to thee ; 
 
 Profanely utter’d at this lacred time, 
 
 When thy pale corfe demands her plaintive rhime, 80 
 And Virtue, weeping whom lhe could not lave, 
 
 Calls the juft mourner to thy recent grave. 
 
 Hail hallow’d vault ! whole darklome caverns hold 
 A frame, though mortal, of no common mould ; 
 
 A heart fcarce fullied with a human flaw, 
 
 Which ftiun’d no duty, and tranfgrefs’d no law ; 
 
 In joy ftill guarded, in diftrefs lerene, 
 
 Thro’ life a model of the golden mean, 
 
 Which friendfiiip only led him to tranlgrels, 
 
 . 
 
 Whole heavenly Ipirit landlifies excels. 
 
 3 
 
 po 
 
 Pure 
 
[ " 1 
 
 Pure mind ! whole meeknels, in thy mortal days, 
 Puriuing virtue, {till retir’d from praile ; 
 
 Nor wiftid' that friendlhip fhould on marble give 
 
 That perfect image of thy worth to live, 
 
 * . — 1 
 
 Which ’t was thy aim alone to leave imprefc 95 
 
 On the dole tablet of her faithful bread. 
 
 If now her verfe againft thy wilh rebel, 
 
 And drive to blazon, what Ihe lov’d lb well, 
 
 V, W 1 - 
 
 Forgive the tender thought, the moral long, 
 
 Which would thy virtues to the world prolong 100 
 That, related from the grave’s oblivious fhade, 
 
 Their ufeful luftre may be ftill lurvey’d, 
 
 Dear to the peniive eye of fond regret, , 
 
 As light ftill beaming from a fun that’s let. 
 
 Oft to our giddy Mule thy voice has taught : 105 
 
 The juft ambition of poetic thought y 
 
 Bid 
 
[ >* ] 
 
 Bid her bold view to lateft time extend, 
 
 And ftrive to make futurity her friend. 
 
 If any verfe, her little art can frame, 
 
 May win the partial voice of diftant fame, 1 1 o 
 
 Be it the verfe, whofe fond ambition tries 
 To paint thy mind in truth’s unfading dyes, 
 
 Tho’ firm, yet tender, ardent, yet refin’d ; 
 
 With Roman ftrength and Attic grace combin’d. 
 
 What tho’ undeck’d with titles, power, and wealth, 1 1 ^ 
 Great were thy generous deeds, and done by Health ; 
 
 For thy pure bounty from obfervance dole, 
 
 Nor wilh’d applaufe, but from thy confeious foul. 
 
 Tho’ thy plain tomb no feulptur’d form may fhew, 
 
 No boaftful witnefe of fofpefted woe ; 120 
 
 Yet heavenly fiiapes, that fhun the glare of day, 
 
 To that dear (pot fhall nightly vifits pay : 
 
 Pale 
 
[ *3 ] 
 
 Pale Science there fliall o’er her votary drew 
 Her flow’rs, yet moift with farrow’s recent dew. 
 
 There Charity, Compaffion’s lovely child, 12^ 
 
 In ruftic notes pathetically wild, 
 
 VV itli grateful bleffings bid thy name endure. 
 
 And mourn the patron of her village-poor. 
 
 E'en from the midnight fhew with raufic gay, 
 
 The foul of Beauty to thy tomb fliall flray, 130 
 
 In fweet didraflion deal from prefont mirth, 
 
 1 o figh unnotic’d o’er the hallow’d earth, 
 
 Which hides tiiofo lips, that glow’d with tender fire, 
 
 And fling her praifos to no common lyre : 
 
 But Friendfhip, wrapt in forrow’s deeped gloom, 135 
 Shall keep the longed vigils at thy tomb ; 
 tier wounded bread, difclainful of relief, 
 
 There claims a fond preeminence in grief : 
 
 C 
 
 She, 
 
C M ] 
 
 She, as the iealbns of the year return, 
 
 Shall place thy fav’rite plants around thy urn, 14© 
 
 Which, in the luxury of tender thought, 
 
 Her care fhall raiie, with plaintive emblems wrought. 
 Recalling ever, with remembrance fweet. 
 
 Thy kind attachment to her calm retreat. 
 
 Short was thy life, but ah ! its thread how fine ! 1 45 
 How pure the texture of the finilh’d line ! 
 
 What tho’ thy opening manhood could not gain 
 Thole late rewards, maturer toils attain ; 
 
 Hope’s firmeft promiles ’twas thine to raiie, 
 
 That merit’s brighteft meed would grace thy lengthen’d days 
 For thine were Judgment’s patient powers, to draw 151 
 Entangled juftice from the nets of law 5 
 Thine firm Integrity, whole language clear 
 Ne’er fwell’d with arrogance, or fliook with fear. 
 
 Reaion’s 
 
 Va« 
 
t *5 1 
 
 Reafons mild power, unvex’d by mental ftrife, 1 55 
 Sway’d the calm current of thy ufefiil life ; 
 
 Whole even courle was in no lealbn loft, 
 
 Nor rough with ftorms, nor ftagnated by froft. 
 
 In fcenes of public toil, or locial eafe, 
 
 s Twas thine by firm fincerity to plea le j 1 60 
 
 Sweet as the breath of Ipring thy converfe flow’d, 
 
 As lummer’s noon-tide warmth thy friendlhip glow’d. 
 
 O’er thy mild manners, by no art conftrain’d, 
 
 A penfive, pleafing melancholy reign’d. 
 
 Which won regard, and charm’d th’ attentive eye, 16 
 Like the loft luftre of an evening Iky : 
 
 Yet if perchance excited to defend 
 The injur’d merit of an ablent friend, 
 
 That gentle lpirit, rous’d to virtuous ire, 
 
 Indignant flalh’d relentment’s noble fire. 170 
 
 C « Thor 
 
[ ] 
 
 Tho’ juft obforvance in thy life may trace 
 A lovely model of each moral grace, 
 
 Thy laft of days the nobieft lefton taught : 
 
 Severe inftrudtion ! and too dearly bought ! 
 
 < , - . -v- ... ■ - * y 
 
 Whole force from memory never can depart, iycp 
 
 But while it mends, muft agonize the heart. 
 
 Tho’ thy Ihrunk nerves were deftin’d to luftain 
 Th’ increaling horrors of flow- wafting pain ; 
 
 Thole fpirit-quenching pangs, whole bale controul 
 Clouds the clear temper, and exhaufts the foul ; i So- 
 Yet in that hour, w r hen Death afterts his claim, 
 
 And his ftrong fummons fhakes the confcious frame; 
 When weaker minds, by frantic fear o’erthrown. 
 
 Shrink in wild horror from the dread Unknown, 
 
 Thy firmer foul, with Chriftian ftrength renew’d, 1 8 ^ 
 Nor loft in languor, nor by pain lubdued. 
 
 (While 
 
[ *7 ] 
 
 (While thy cold grafp the hand*of Friendfhip preft, 
 And her vain aid in fault’ ring accents hleft) 
 
 With awe, but not as Superftition’s (lave, 
 
 Survey’d the gathering fhadows of the grave ; 
 
 And to thy God, in death, devoutly paid 
 That calm obedience which thy life diiplay’d. 
 
 Thou friend 1 yet left me of the choicer few, 
 Whom grief’s fond eyes with growing love review; 
 O thou ! whom mutual (brrow will incline 
 To mix thy fympathetic fighs with, mine ; 
 
 Still be it ours to pay, with juft regret, 
 
 At Friendfhip’ s (acred fhrine our common debt 1 
 Tho’ doom’d (fo Heaven ordains) to fee no more 
 The gentle Being, whom we both deplore ; 
 Painting (hall dill, fvveet (oothing art 1 (iipply 
 A form fo precious in Affedlion’s eye. 
 
 IQO 
 
 J 95 
 
 200 
 
 Ah 1 
 
205 ‘ 
 
 [ *8 ] 
 
 Ah ! little thought we, in that happier hour, 
 When our gay Mufe rehears’d the Pencil’s power 
 To mourn that form in cold obftru£tion laid, 
 And lee him only by the pencil’s aid ! 
 
 Bleft be that pencil, every art be bleft, 
 
 That ftamps his image deeper on our breaft ! 
 
 Oft let us loiter on his favourite hill, 
 
 Whole fhades the fadly-pleanng thought inftili j 
 Recount his kindnels, as we fondly rove, 
 
 And meet his Ipirit in the lonely grove. 
 
 At evening’s penlive hour, or opening day, 
 
 He yet fhall feem the partner of our way. 
 
 Bleft Spirit ! ftill thro’ Fancy’s ear impart 
 The calm of virtue to the troubled heart ! 
 
 Corrett each fordid view, each vain delire, 
 
 And touch the mortal, with celeftial fire 1 
 6 
 
 210 
 
 215 
 
 So 
 
 V » 
 
% 
 
 # 
 
 [ '9 ] 
 
 So may we ftill, in this dark (ce-ne of earth, 
 Hold fweet communion with thy living worth 
 And, while our purer thoughts thy merit lean, 
 Revere the Angel, as we lov’d the Man. 
 
 w*