The Dream, by Mr. J. Talbot. Occasioned by the Death of Lady Seymour

If righteous souls in their blest mansions know Or what we do or suffer here below, And any leisure from their joys can find, To visit those whom they have left behind, To view our endless griefs, our groundless fears, Our hopeless sorrows, and our fruitless tears; With pity, sure, they see the kind mistake, Which weeping friends at their departure make: They wonder why at their release we grieve, And mourn their death, who then begin to live.

Tir'd with the care and sorrow of the day, In silent night the sad Maecenas lay, His mind still labouring with the deadly weight Of his dear parent's much-lamented fate: Till weary Nature, with its load opprest, Compos'd the tempest of his troubled breast, And borrow'd from his grief some time for rest: When sleep (death's image) to his fancy brought The hourly object of his waking thought; And lo! his mother's awful shade appears, Not pale and ghastly, as the sullen fears Of brain-sick minds their dismal phantoms paint, But bright and joyful as a new-made saint. A crown of glories shone around her head; She smil'd, and thus the happy spirit said:

" Hail, noble son, whom powerful Fates design To fill the glories of thy mighty line, In whom the good is mingled with the great, As generous light unites with active heat! For thee I thought life pleasant, and for thee I after death endur'd this world to see, And leave a while the dwellings of the blest, Where heavenly minds enjoy eternal rest; Where having reach'd the universal shore, I fear the winds and billows now no more; No more in anguish draw a painful breath, Nor wrestle with that mighty tyrant Death, Who cannot boast he gave the fatal blow; I conquer'd sin, from whence his power did flow: The proud insulter threaten'd me in vain, For Heaven increas'd my patience with my pain, Till my unfetter'd soul at last took wing, The grave its conquest lost, and death its sting.

No longer then these pious sorrows shed, Nor vainly think thy happy parent dead; Whose deathless mind, from its weak prison free, Enjoys in Heaven its native liberty: I soon distinguish'd in that blissful place Thy god-like ancestors, a numerous race; There, plac'd among the stars, in them I see A glorious destiny reserv'd for thee.

Then weep no more: ev'n here I still survive; In thee and in thy virtuous fair I live; I saw her happy mother shine on high, A brighter spirit ne'er adorn'd the sky; With joy she met me at the crystal gate, And much inquir'd her beauteous daughter's state, She wish'd her there: but Heaven ordains it late, And long defers her joys, that she may be A mighty blessing to this world and thee. Long shall she live, and ages yet to come Shall bless the happy burden of her womb: Still shall her off-spring with her years increase; With both, her virtues and thy happiness. In all thy race the wondering world shall find The noble image of each parent's mind. Thus bless'd in her and hers, thou shalt receive The richest bounties Heaven and Earth can give. Nor shall my care be wanting to your aid, My faithful spirit shall hover o'er thy head, And round thy lovely fair a large protection spread: Till, crown'd with years and honours here below, And every gift kind Nature can bestow, You both retire to everlasting rest, And late increase the joys and number of the blest."

She spake, her fellow-angels all around With joyful smiles the happy omen own'd; All bless'd the noble pair, and took their flight To the bright regions of unfading light.