Address to the Tomb of Charles Fox

A N Address TO THE Tomb OF C HARLES F OX, BURIED IN W
ESTMINSTER A BBEY O CT . 10, 1806; — WRITTEN ON THE D AY OF
HIS F UNERAL .

A ND is this all of that accomplish'd mind?
His Country's pride, and friend of human-kind?
This mournful pageant that surrounds the bier? —
Phantoms of grief that rise and disappear?
Shall Death involve in his unfathom'd gloom
The virtues that aspire beyond the tomb?
Though in this Gothic pile's illustrious shade
With Kings and Heroes Death his bed has made,
Are sculptur'd honours all that Fox may claim?
Shall urns and busts alone transmit his name?
Can monuments from Time's oblivion save?
These are the glowworm's lustre on the grave!
Genius! in whom the dead repose their trust,
The Sainted Guardian of the sleeping dust,
Thine be the task, for thine 's the Muse's fire,
To guide the chisel, or to wake the lyre!
Thine to illumine the Historian's page,
And bid thy Heroes live through every age!
Here shall the Muse her glowing wreath sustain,
For him that spurn'd Ambition's venal chain,
Won from the Rival Senator applause,
And charm'd the listening world in Freedom's cause!
Enlighten'd Statesman, of exalted mind!
Philanthropist, embracing all mankind!
Guide of the weak, and friend of the oppress'd!
The advocate of Peace, by honour bless'd!
Let such bright annals, wing'd by hallow'd Fame,
Bear to remotest worlds this honour'd name!
And, when memorials of a texture frail,
With all the sentinels of Time, shall fail,
Though Time himself upon the watch could sleep,
Eternity the sacred charge will keep.
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