Et variis et lubricis et implicatis difficillimum,
Cum dignitate sustinuit. Honores alios, et omnia, quæ sibi in lucrum cederent
munera,
Sedulo detectravit,
Ut rei totus inserviret publicæ ;
Justi rectique tenax,
Et fide in patriam incorruptâ notus.
Ubi omnibus, quæ virum civemque bonum decent,
officiis satisfecisset, Paulatim se à publicis consiliis in otium recipiens,
Inter literarum amoenitates,
Inter ante-actæ vitæ haud insuaves recordationes,
Inter amicorum convietus et amplexus,
Honorificè consenuit,
Et bonis omnibus, quibus charissimus vixit,
Desideratissimus obiit.
Hîc, juxta cineres avi, suos condi voluit, et curavit
Gulielmus Bunbury Bttus, nepos et hæres.
PARAPHRASE OF THE ABOVE EPITAPH,
BY DR. JOHNSON *.
Thou who survey'st these walls with curious eye,
Pause at his tomb where HANMER'S ashes lie;
His various worth through varied life attend,
And learn his virtues while thou mourn’st his end.
His force of genius burn'd in early youth,
With thirst of knowledge, and with love of truth ;
His learning, join'd with each endearing art,
Charm'd ev'ry ear, and gain’d on ev'ry heart.
Thus early wise, th’ endanger'd realm to aid,
His country call'd him from the studious shade;
In life's first bloom his publick toils began,
At once commenc'd the senator and man.
In business dext'rous, weighty in debate,
Thrice ten long years he labour'd for the State ;
In ev'ry speech persuasive wisdom flow'd,
In ev'ry act refulgent virtue glow'd:
Suspended faction ceas'd from rage and strife,
To hear his eloquence, and praise his life.
Resistless merit fix'd the Senate's choice,
Who hail'd him Speaker with united voice.
Illustrious age! how bright thy glories shone,
When Hanmer fill'd the chair-and Anne the throne!
Then when dark arts obscur'd each fierce debate, When mutual frauds perplex'd the maze of state, The moderator firmly mild appear'dBeheld with love with veneration heard.
This task perform'd-he sought no gainful post,
Nor wish'd to glitter at his country's cost ;
Strict on the right he fix'd his steadfast eye,
With temperate zeal and wise anxiety;
Nor e'er from Virtue's paths was lur'd aside,
To pluck the flow’rs of pleasure, or of pride.
Her gifts despis'd, Corruption blush'd and fled,
And Fame pursu'd him where Conviction led.
Age call’d, at length, his active mind to rest,
With honour sated, and with cares opprest;
To letter'd ease retir'd and honest mirth,
To rural grandeur and domestic worth :
Delighted still to please mankind, or mend,
The patriot's fire yet sparkled in the friend.
Calm Conscience, then, his former life survey'd, And recollected toils endear'd the shade, Till Nature call’d him to the gen'ral doom, And Virtue's sorrow dignified his tomb.
Bright Stella, form’d for universal reign,
Too well you know to keep the slaves you gain ;
When in your eyes resistless lightnings play,
Aw'd into love our conquer'd hearts obey,
And yield reluctant to despotic sway:
But when your music soothes the raging pain,
We bid propitious Heav'n prolong your reign,
We bless the tyrant, and we hug the chain.
When old Timotheus struck the vocal string,
Ambition's fury fir'd the Grecian king :
Unbounded projects lab'ring in his mind,
He pants for room in one poor world confin'd.
Thus wak'd to rage, by music's dreadful pow'r,
He bids the sword destroy, the flame devour.
Had Stella's gentle touches mov’d the lyre,
Soon had the monarch felt a nobler fire ;
No more delighted with destructive war,
Ambitious only now to please the fair ;
Resign'd his thirst of empire to her charms,
And found a thousand worlds in Stella's arms.
PARAPHRASE OF PROVERBS,
Chap. VI. Verses 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.
“ Go to the Ant, thou Sluggard*."
Turn on the prudent ant thy heedful eyes,
Observe her labours, sluggard, and be wise :
No stern command, no monitory voice,
Prescribes her duties, or directs her choice;
Yet, timely provident, she hastes away,
To snatch the blessings of the plenteous day;
When fruitful summer loads the teeming plain,
She
crops
The changing year's successive plan
Proclaims mortality to man;
Rough winter's blasts to spring give way,
Spring yields to summer's sov’reign ray;
Then summer sinks in autumn's reign,
And winter chills the world again;
Her losses soon the moon supplies,
But wretched man, when once he lies,
Where Priam and his sons are laid,
Is nought but ashes and a shade.
Who knows if Jove, who counts our score,
Will toss us in a morning more?
What with your friend you nobly share
At least you rescue from your heir.
Not you, Torquatus, boast of Rome,
When Minos once has fix'd
Or eloquence, or splendid birth,
Or virtue, shall restore to earth.
Hippolytus, unjustly slain,
Diana calls to life in vain;
Nor can the might of Theseus rend
The chains of Hell that hold his friend.
Nov. 1784.
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