EX MUSEO
ARBUTEANO

W. S. LEWIS

Rich. Bull of Ongar in Essex &c.

TO THE MEMORY

OF

WILLIAM

FIFTH DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE.

Go! Noble Heir of an illustrious race—
Go! Midst thy Patriot Fathers take thy place:
Thy last; thy hallowed Place.—How long, how deep
Shall be our sorrows, who for DEVON weep!
For His, the heart that felt for human kind :
His, the unalterably gentle mind,
Whose temper, formed in nature's happiest hour,
Wrath could not ruffle, nor afflict sour.
His, the high soul, from its exalted seat,
That viewed with calm disdain the meanly great;
That saw, unmoved, the storm of party rage;
But to his bosom clasped the Patriot sage.
Deceit or guile, that bosom never knew :
True to himself; to all men He was true:
And in his lightest a. his gravest hour,
His every word proclaimed truth's sovereign power,
His, was the ray of judgment, clear and bright :
Error and Falschool sunk before its light.

Offspring of feeling, His was genuine Taste :
His, the quick flash of Wit, refined and chaste :
And free from Learning's pride, His native powers
Were decked with Classic learning's fairest flowers.

Vast his domain : yet no man wished it less.
Wealth was to Him, but ampler power to bless :
The tribute of his fields, His bounteous hand :
Returned like Dew from Heaven, to glad the land :
While all who lived beneath His gentle sway :
Seemed to prevent his wishes, not obey.

By all his Friends admired, and fondly loved ;
By the whole Nation, honoured and approved :
With Private Sorrow, Public Feeling vied,
And every Heart was sad, when DEVON died.

H. C. E. 1819.

1867, 25678