Thanks, Hayley, for this portrait of the bard, Whose sacred strain hath often charm'd mine ear; Thou need'st not wish a more sublime reward Than thy own labours have secur'd thee here. Posterity shall gratefully revere Thy efforts to increase the poet's fame; And, while they shed for him the tender tear, Shall yield thy services the meed they claim, And style thee Cowper's Friend, a proud and envied name.
Cowper! in virtue's ever sacred cause, Thy magic harp by power divine was strung, To vindicate those just, those righteous laws Once preach'd on earth by more than mortal tongue; And as thy hand across its cords was flung, As keen reproof or consolation flow'd, Vice own'd thy powers, by deep conviction stung; Reviving virtue lighter felt her load, With energy divine the christian's bosom glow'd.
But 'tis not in the Bard alone we trace That peerless merit which we all admire; Though ruthless time itself can ne'er efface The well earn'd triumphs of thy sacred lyre. Those modest charms which timidly retire, And shun the obtrusive glare of public day, That winning gentleness which must inspire With purest rapture friendship's hallow'd sway, Shed o'er thy private life a mild and sober ray.
Ill-fated Minstrel! though the feverish dream Of mental anarchy, with dreadful gloom, Obscur'd the light of hope's celestial beam, And scarcely left thee at the opening tomb. Yet let not finite arrogance presume To doubt the goodness of that gracious God, Whose wise decree pronounc'd thy early doom, And bade thee tread the melancholy road, Which leads through conflict dire to virtue's calm abode.
But while eternal Truth's resistless ray Extends its pure invigorating light So long as Hope with sweet, delusive sway, Can cheer the soul with prospects gay and bright; While Conversation's social charms invite To quit Retirement, and to join the throng, So long shalt thou with undisputed right Maintain those glorious honours which belong To Christian Bards alone, and Virtue's awful song.
Expostulation may in vain be given, Error's deceitful Progress clearly shown, Presumptuous science strive to scale that heaven Obtain'd by works of Charity alone; A parent's aching heart with anguish own The truths thy Tirocinium may display, Still shall the merits of thy verse be known, Still shall thy Task a pure delight convey, And Cowper's fame survive though ages pass away.
