TO THE MEMORY OF MY LAMENTED FATHER,WHO DIED IN THE SERVICE OF THE EMPRESS OF RUSSIA,DECEMBER 5, 1786.
TO THE MEMORY OF MY LAMENTED FATHER,WHO DIED IN THE SERVICE OF THE EMPRESS OF RUSSIA,DECEMBER 5, 1786.
Oh, sire, rever'd! ador'd!Was it the ruthless tongue of DEATHThat whisp'ring to my pensive ear,Pronounc'd the fatal wordThat bath'd my cheek with many a tear,And stopp'd awhile my gasping breath?"He lives no more!Far on a foreign shore,His honour'd dust a laurell'd grave receives,While his immortal soul in realms celestial lives!"Oh! my lov'd sire, farewell!Though we are doom'd on earth to meet no more,Still memory lives, and still I must adore!And long this throbbing heart shall mourn,Though thou to these sad eyes wilt ne'er return!Yet shall remembrance dwellOn all thy sorrows through life's stormy sea,When fate's resistless whirlwinds shedUnnumber'd tempests round thy head,The varying ills of human destiny!Yet, with a soul sublimely brave,Didst thou endure the dashing wave;Still buffeting the billows rude,By all the shafts of woe, undaunted, unsubdued!Through a long life of rugged care,'Twas thine to steer a steady course!'Twas thine misfortune's frowns to bear,And stem the wayward torrent's force!And as thy persevering mindThe toilsome path of fame pursued,'Twas thine, amidst its flow'rs to findThe wily snake—Ingratitude!Yet vainly did th' insidious reptile striveOn thee its poisons dire to fling;Above its reach, thy laurel still shall thrive,Unconscious of the treach'rous sting!'Twas thine to toil through length'ning years,Where low'ring night absorbs the spheres!O'er icy seas to bend thy way,Where frozen Greenland rears its head,Where dusky vapours shroud the day,And wastes of flaky snow the stagnate ocean spread,'Twas thine, amidst the smoke of war,To view, unmov'd, grim-fronted Death;Where Fate, enthron'd in sulphur'd car,Shrunk the pale legions with her scorching breath!While all around her, bath'd in blood,Iberia's haughty sons plung'd lifeless 'midst the flood.Now on the wings of meditation borne,Let fond remembrance turn, and turn to mourn;Slowly, and sad, her pinions sweepO'er the rough bosom of the boist'rous deepTo that disastrous, fatal coastWhere, on the foaming billows tost,Imperial Catherine's navies rode;And war's inviting banners wideWav'd hostile o'er the glitt'ring tide,That with exulting conquest glow'd!For there—oh, sorrow, check the tear!—There, round departed valour's bier,The sacred drops of kindred virtue[56] shone!Proud monuments of worth! whose baseFame on her starry hill shall place;There to endure, admir'd, sublime!E'en when the mould'ring wing of timeShall scatter to the winds huge pyramids of stone!Oh! gallant soul! farewell!Though doom'd this transient orb to leave,Thy daughter's heart, whose grief no words can tell,Shall, in its throbbing centre, bid thee live!While from its crimson fount shall flowThe silent tear of ling'ring grief;The gem sublime! that scorns relief,Nor vaunting shines, with ostentatious woe!Though thou art vanish'd from these eyes,Still from thy sacred dust shall riseA wreath that mocks the polish'd graceOf sculptur'd bust, or tuneful praise;While Fame shall weeping point the placeWhere Valour's dauntless son decays!Unseen to cherish mem'ry's source divine,Oh I parent of my life, shall still be mine!And thou shalt, from thy blissful state,Awhile avert thy raptur'd gaze,To own, that 'midst this wild'ring maze,The flame of filial love defies the blast of fate!
Note 44: Dumouriez.
Note 45: An attachment took place between Mrs. Robinson and Colonel Tarleton shortly after the return of the latter from America, which subsisted during sixteen years. On the circumstances which occasioned its dissolution it is neither necessary nor would it be proper to dwell. The exertions of Mrs. Robinson in the service of Colonel Tarleton, when pressed by pecuniary embarrassment, led to that unfortunate journey, the consequences of which proved so fatal to her health. The colonel accompanied her to the Continent, and, by his affectionate attentions, sought to alleviate those sufferings of which he had been the involuntary occasion.
Note 46: Son of the celebrated Edmund Burke.
Note 47: The Right Honourable Edmund Burke, at that time conductor of theAnnual Register.
Note 48: Mr. Merry had been a member of the "Scuola della Crusca," at Florence.
Note 49: Mrs. Robinson's "Poems," vol. ii. p. 27.
Note 50: The date on which the Paris prisons were broken open and twelve hundred royalist prisoners slain.—Ed.
Note 51: Boaden, in his Life of Kemble, says: "I remember the warmth with which Mrs. Robinson chanted the kindness of Mrs. Jordan in accepting the principal character: and I cannot forget the way, when the storm began, in which the actress, frightened out of her senses, 'died and made no sign.'"—Ed.
Note 52: The Morning Post.
Note 53: Miss Robinson and a friend.
Note 54: Those who have read Gifford's "Baviad" and "Maeviad" will understand this allusion.—Ed.
Note 55: Second Baron Rodney, son of the admiral, then a captain in the Guards.
Note 56: Captain Darby commanded, at the time of his death, a ship of war in the Russian service, and was buried with military honours, universally lamented.