Hail! blessed spirit! This rude cypher'd stone. On which a sister's pensive eye shall muse In sorrow, and another relative In sweet, though mournful, recollection, bend, Shall call a tear into the stranger's eye Whene'er he hears the tale, yet make him proud That Britain's hospitable land should yield All that you could accept, _an humble grave_. _Written in London, on the 19th of March, 1796._ A lov'd companion, chosen friend, Does at this hour depart, Whom the dear name of father binds Still closer to my heart. On him may joy-dispensing heav'n Each calm delight bestow, And eas'd of peace-destroying care His life serenely flow! Did I but know his bosom calm, And free from anxious fear, Around me in more cheerful hues Would every scene appear. And I will hope that he, who ne'er Repin'd at heav'n's decree, But ever patient and resign'd, Submissive bent the knee: Who, best of fathers, never sought For arbitrary sway, But free within each youthful mind, Bade Reason lead the way. Who taught us, 'stead of servile fear, A warm esteem to prove, And bade each act of duty spring, From gratitude and love. Yes, I must hope that generous mind With many cares opprest, Shall in the winter of his days With sweet repose be blest. * * * * * _A friend, a year or two ago, gave me_ Joseph's Reconciliation with his Brethren, _as a subject to write upon; but I was afraid of not treating it in such a manner as a sacred story deserved, and gave up the attempt, when I had written little more than the following lines, to account for their not knowing him, although he well remembered them; and am persuaded to let them appear here_. * * * * * FRAGMENT. * * * * * They, ere he left them, had attain'd their prime And were less alter'd by the hand of Time; But, the slim youth no longer met their view, Fair, as the fancy e'er a seraph drew. Who still, upborne by joy, in smiles was found, With step elate that scarcely press'd the ground. Before a grief had raz'd his youthful breast, Or care had robb'd his brilliant eyes of rest. When lofty visions swam before his sight, And dreams of empire wrapt his soul at night. Whose hair luxuriant flow'd in glossy pride, And, from his snowy forehead, wav'd aside; Which, vein'd with purest azure, rose serene, And threw complacence o'er a rapturous mien. The wandering light that sparkled in his eye, The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, The speaking form, by each emotion sway'd, The voice, that softest music had convey'd, Were now matur'd. No more the child they saw, But one, with majesty, inspiring awe; Whose silken locks no more in ringlets flow, But gold and purple bind his manly brow: No more the envied robe his limbs invest, In all the pomp of eastern monarchs drest. The sun of Egypt had embrown'd his face, And time had ripen'd every youthful grace.