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THE DEATH OF GENERAL FITZPATRICK.
BLEST as thou wert, Fitzpatrick, with a mind
By eloquence sublimed, by wit refined,
With all the gifts that science could impart,
With all the social virtues of the heart;
Colloquial elegance to charm the fair-
The table's boast, though Sheridan was there;
Well might we mourn for ever, ever gone
Such splendid qualities combined in one!
Yet, hating all the foppery of praise,
Thy Muse retiring shunn'd the public gaze :
The multitude's applauses are but low,
Compared with those the admiring few bestow.
If Fox,* companion of an honour'd few,
Souls of a higher class, to friendship true,
* Quin ubi se a vulgo et scenâ in secreta remôrant
Virtus Scipiada et mitis sapientia Læli.
Smiled on thy efforts, in those glorious nights
When Fancy soar'd above her usual flights;
Or when Philosophy display'd her charms,
To lure the patriot from her sister's arms,
His kind approval was thy best reward;
It warm'd the man, inspirited the bard.
And friendship, which a faint affection breeds,
Without regard of good, dies like ill-grounded seeds.
SPENSER'S Fairy Queen.
Ut matrona meretrici dispar erit, atque
Discolor, infido scurræ distabit amicus.-HORAT. Epist.
MILD was the air, serene the night,
The moon beam'd forth her tranquil light,
No stormy dæmon roused the blast,
As o'er the hills in haste I past,
To chill my frame or cramp my speed—
But oh! my heart was cold indeed.
The look of scorn, the shameless stare,
Had curdled e'en the life-blood there,
For friends had strangely gazed on me :
I marr'd, perchance, the social glee.
Yet once they bade my spirits glow-
My crime was then the same as now.
Too quickly summer's beauty dies!
The moral's plain-" In time be wise."
The winter's rage prepared to brave,
No shock we feel, though tempests rave;
But friendship I too fondly thought
Would last for ever, if unbought,
Life's constant sunshine; to the breast
An Eden, nay, a heaven of rest,
Where, when the world's vexations tire,
It might, to soothe its pangs, retire.
I was deceived: the bitter truth
Proves confidence is nought in youth.
Such change, alas! was not foreseen,
Yet oft before such change has been.
How the bright arch that spans the sky
In childhood caught my eager eye:
The beauteous curve appear'd to stand
Substantial on yon rising land.
How rich its hues! each hue alone
Betray'd a link of precious stone.
The glorious prize within my view
One luckless day I must pursue;
From hill to hill it quickly fled,
Through bush and brake my steps it led;
Then, as it mock'd my further stay,
It fainter gleam'd-it died away.
Home I return'd, ashamed, yet smiled,
In seeming scorn, on chase so wild.
Thus 'tis with friendship; many claim
A portion of her hallow'd flame,
Yet friendship scarce exists on earth,
Few seek, still fewer find, her worth.
The maid unseen, we love to chase
Some airy vision in her place.
But soon we mourn the shadow lost,
Youth will despair when hopes are crost;
Then bitterly we rue the time
When confidence appear'd no crime.
Will Wisdom soothe us? 'tis too late,
Love was abused-then welcome Hate.