To Mr. Hayley

Illustrious monarch of the laurell'd throng, Illustrious subject of each tuneful tongue; For thee, I fondly strike the sounding lyre, For thee, whose maxims taught me to aspire.

Cou'd my faint verse like courtly Waller's move, I'd justly draw the harmonious virgin's love, Who by their sacred inspiration warms, Who with such graceful elocution charms! Not sweeter sings the man belov'd of Heav'n, Enchanting Pope, to softest manners giv'n; In thee we see that lustrous beaming star, Extending Learning's bright domain afar, Like him, majestical thou flow'st along, Concisely clear, and prevalently strong. My streaming eyes spontaneously o'erflow With tender tears of sympathetic woe, When I contemplate on, sublimest bard, Thy filial piety and soft regard. But where thy pen so mournfully display'd, The murder'd votary of the lovely maid, Each pensive reader wounded, thrills with pain, So potent Sorrow's sadly-pleasing strain. Nor less our woe where thou, fond Bard, do'st mourn In tend'rest accent o'er thy THORNTON's urn; Struck at thy loss, disdainful of relief, Thou wail'st in manly majesty of grief.

Where'er Britannia may her power extend, Eternal praise will on thy name attend; So strong the frame thy mental labour wrought, So potent thy magnificence of thought.