Nor wish'd to glitter at his country's cost;
Strict on the right he fix'd his steadfast eye,
With temperate zeal and wise anxiety; 30
Nor e'er from Virtue's paths was lured aside,
To pluck the flowers of pleasure, or of pride;
Her gifts despised, Corruption blush'd and fled,
And Fame pursued him where Conviction led.

Age call'd, at length, his active mind to rest,
With honour sated, and with cares oppress'd:
To letter'd ease retired, and honest mirth.
To rural grandeur, and domestic worth:
Delighted still to please mankind, or mend,
The patriot's fire yet sparkled in the friend. 40

Calm Conscience then his former life survey'd,
And recollected toils endear'd the shade,
Till Nature call'd him to her general doom,
And Virtue's sorrow dignified his tomb.

* * * * *


ON THE DEATH OF STEPHEN GREY, F.R.S.,

THE ELECTRICIAN.

Long hast thou borne the burden of the day;
Thy task is ended, venerable Grey!
No more shall Art thy dexterous hand require,