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His retirement was ennobled by many private acts of beneficence, and his exemplary virtue was such, that the opulent sometimes delighted to make him their almoner. In his sequestered life at Olney, he ministered abundantly to the wants of the poor, from a fund with which he was supplied by that model of extensive and unostentatious philanthropy, the late John Thornton, Esqr. whose name he has immortalized in his Poem on Charity, still honouring his memory by an additional tribute to his virtues, in the following unpublished Poem, written immediately on his decease, in the year 1790.

Poets attempt the noblest task they can,
Praising the Author of all Good in Man;
And next commemorating worthies lost,
The dead, in whom that good abounded most.

Thee therefore of commercial fame, but more

Fam'd for thy probity, from shore to shore,
Thee, Thornton, worthy in some page to shine
As honest, and more eloquent than mine,

I mourn; or, since thrice happy thou must be,
The world, no longer thy abode, not thee;
Thee to deplore were grief mis-spent indeed;
It were to weep, that goodness has its meed,

That there is bliss prepared in yonder sky,
And glory for the virtuous, when they die.

What pleasure can the miser's fondled hoard

thee means

Or spendthrift's prodigal excess afford,
Sweet, as the privilege of healing woe
Suffer'd by virtue, combating below;
That privilege was thine; Heaven gave
To illumine with delight the saddest scenes,
Till thy appearance chas'd the gloom, forlorn
As midnight, and despairing of a morn.
Thou had'st an industry in doing good,

Restless as his, who toils and sweats for food.

Av'rice in thee was the desire of wealth

By rust unperishable, or by stealth.

And if the genuine worth of gold depend

On application to its noblest end,

Thine had a value in the scales of Heaven,
Surpassing all, that mine, or mint, have given :
And tho' God made thee of a nature prone
To distribution, boundless, of thy own;

And still, by motives of religious force,
Impell'd thee more to that heroic course;
Yet was thy liberality discreet;

Nice in its choice, and of a temp'rate heat;
And, though in act unwearied, secret still,
As, in some solitude, the summer rill

Refreshes, where it winds, the faded green,

And chears the drooping flowers, unheard, unseen.

Such was thy Charity; no sudden start,

After long sleep of passion in the heart,
But steadfast principle, and in its kind
Of close alliance with th' eternal mind;
Trac'd easily to its true source above,
To Him, whose works bespeak his nature, love.
Thy bounties all were Christian, and I make
This record of thee for the Gospel's sake;
That the incredulous themselves may see

Its use and power, exemplified in thee.

This simple and sublime eulogy was perfectly merited; and among the happiest actions of this truly liberal man, we may reckon his furnishing to a character so reserved, and so retired, as Cowper, the means of his enjoying the gratification of active and costly beneficence; a gratification, in which the sequestered poet had nobly indulged himself, before his acquaintance with Mr. Newton afforded him an opportunity of being concerned in distributing the private, yet extensive, bounty of an opulent and exemplary merchant.

Cowper, before he quitted St. Alban's, assumed the charge of a necessitous child, to extricate him from the perils of being educated by very profligate parents; he put him to school at Huntingdon, re

moved him on his own removal, to Olney, and finally settled him as an apprentice at Oundle in Northamptonshire.

The warm, benevolent, and chearful enthusiasm of Mr. Newton, induced his friend Cowper to participate so abundantly in his devout occupation, that the poet's time, and thoughts, were more and more engrossed by religious pursuits. He wrote many hymns, and occasionally directed the prayers of the poor. Where the nerves are tender, and the imagination tremblingly alive, any fervid excess in the exercise of the purest piety, may be attended with such perils to corporeal, and mental, health, as men, of a more firm and hardy fibre, would be far from apprehending. Perhaps the life that Cowper led, on his settling in Olney, had a tendency to encrease the morbid propensity of his frame, though it was a life of admirable sanctity.

Absorbed as he was in devotion, he forgot not his distant friends, and particularly his amiable relation, and correspondent, of the Park-house, near Hartford. The following Letter to that lady has no date, but it was probably written soon after his establishment at Olney: The remarkable memento in the Postscript, was undoubtedly introduced to counteract

an idle rumour, arising from the circumstance of his having settled himself under the roof of a female friend, whose age, and whose virtues, he considered as sufficient securities to ensure her reputation.

LETTER XXIX.

To Mrs. COWPER.

MY DEAR COUSIN,

I have not been behind hand

in reproaching myself with neglect, but desire to take shame to myself for my unprofitableness in this, as well as in all other respects. I take the next immediate opportunity however of thanking you for yours, and of assuring you, that instead of being surprized at your silence, I rather wonder that you, or any of my friends, have any room left for so careless and negligent a correspondent in your memories. I am obliged to you for the intelligence you send me of my kindred, and rejoice to hear of their welfare. He who settles the bounds of our habitations, has at length cast our lot at a great distance from each other, but I do not therefore forget their former kindness to me, or cease to be interested in their well being. You live in the centre of a world I know you do not delight in. Happy are you, my dear friend, in being

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