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Dt.THOMJS TARN ELL,
Late Arch.Deacon of Clogher:
Published by Mr. POPE.
Dignum laude Vintm Musa vet at mori. Hor.
the Temple Gates in Fleet.street, 1711.
Earl of OXFORD
U C H were the Notes, thy once-lov'd Poet fung,
Till Death untimely stop'd his tuneful Tongue. Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd, and mourn'd! With softest Manners, gentlest Arts, adorn'd!
A z Blest
Blest in each Science, blest in ev'ry Strain!
For him, thou oft hast bid the World attend,
Absent or dead, still let a Friend be dear, (A Sigh the Absent claims, the Dead a Tear) Recall those Nights that clos'd thy toilsom Days, Still hear thy Tarnell in his living Lays: Who careless, now, oflnt'rest, Fame, or Fate, Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was Great; Or deeming meanest what we greatest call, * Beholds thee glorious only in thy Fall.
And "* \ . . .
And sure if ought below the Scats Divine Can touch Immortals, *tis a Soul like thine: A Soul supreme, in each hard Instance try'd, Above all Pain, all Anger, and all Pride, The Rage of Pow'r, the Blast of publick Breath, The Lust of Lucre, and the Dread of Death.
In vain to Desarts thy Retreat is made 5 The Muse attends thee to the silent Shade: 'Tis hers, the brave Man's latest Steps to trace, Re-judge his Acts, and dignify Disgrace. When Int'rcst calls off all her sneaking Train, When all th' Oblig'd desert, and all the Vain; She waits, or to the Scaffold, or the Cell, When the last ling'ring Friend has bid farewel. Ev"n now she shades thy Evening Walk with Bays, (No Hireling she, no Prostitute to Praise)