And beaming rapture glisten'd on his brow,] Such charms hath Innocence! such virtues Pride! The garish pomp of Grandeur to deride, A day he flourish'd in the peaceful soil, Another saw him on the hostile strand, Guiding the thunders of the white-cliff'd isle, Ambition's wasteful rapine to withstand. To match his great progenitor in war, Elate with hope his generous bosom burns; But inauspicious twinkled every star, And heaven averted all his wishes spurns. Too high request in every sphere to shine, -290. 309 στ σ σ σ ELEGY III. WRITTEN AMONGST THE RUINS OF PONTEFRACT CASTLE. MDCCLVI. RIGHT sung the bard, that all-involving age, A pile stupendous, once of fair renown, This mould'ring mass of shapeless ruin rose, Where nodding heights of fractur'd columns frown, And birds obscene in ivy-bow'rs repose; Oft the pale matron from the threatning wall, Oft, as he views the meditated fall, Full swiftly steps the frighted peasant by. But more respectful views th' historic sage, He pensive oft reviews the mighty dead, That erst have trod this desolated ground; Reflects how here unhappy SAL'SBURY bled, When faction aim'd the death-dispensing wound._20 Rest, gentle RIVERS! and ill-fated GRAY! A flow'r or tear oft strews your humble grave, Ah! what avail'd th' alliance of a throne ? The pomp of titles what, or pow'r rever'd ? Happier! to these the humble life unknown, With virtue honor'd, and by peace endear'd. Had thus the sons of bleeding Britain thought, When hapless here inglorious RICHARD lay, Yet many a prince, whose blood full dearly bought The shameful triumph of the long-fought day : Yet many a hero, whose defeated hand In death resign'd the well contested field, 39 σ Ill could the Muse indignant grief forbear, Th' inglorious triumphs of the vary'd Rose! 40 While YORK, with conquest and revenge elate, Ah prince! unequal to the toils of war, To stem ambition, Faction's rage to quell ; Happier! from these had Fortune plac'd thee far, In some lone convent, or some peaceful cell. 50 For what avail'd.that thy victorious queen In vain fair Vict'ry beam'd the gladd'ning eye, Let Towton's field-but cease the dismal tale; The Patriot's exile, or the Hero's fall. | |