Francis Garden

Anonymous, "Elegy on the Death of Lord Gardenstone" The Oracle, Public Advertiser (5 November 1795).

Where empty grandeur seeks a pompous grave,
And scutcheon'd pride adorns the trophied hearse,
In solemn order plumes are taught to wave,
And venal bards diffuse the hireling verse.

Far other rites, in Nature's rude array,
To thee, O letter'd GARDENSTONE, belong:
To thee a stranger tunes the sadd'ning lay,
While all KINCARDINE joins the mournful song.

PATRON of ARTS, of Industry the Friend,
The busy loom advanc'd at thy command;
Fair PEACE was bade her blessings to extend,
And smiling PLENTY deck'd this rescued land.

Where naked heaths in desert aspect frown'd,
Now with each vernal flow'r the garden glows:
While at thy call the peasants rang'd around,
And in gay form the new-built village rose.

What though, obedient to stern NATURE'S call,
Thy sinking frame obey'd the gen'ral doom!
Ne'er shall oblivion all thy works enthrall,
Such active virtues soar beyond the tomb.

Revolving years in Time's increase shall show
Thy gen'rous plans adorn'd with just success;
With grateful ardour future bards shall glow,
And rising swains their Patron's bounty bless.