The duke is author of two volumes of poems, of which we ſhall ſelect the following as a ſpecimen.
The Fear of Death.
Say, ſov’reign queen of awful night,
Dread tyrant ſay!
Why parting throes this lab’ring frame diſtend,
Why dire convulſions rend,
And teeming horrors wreck th’ aſtoniſh’d ſight?
Why ſhirks the trembling ſoul,
Why with amazement full
Pines at thy rule, and ſickens at thy ſway?
Why low’rs the thunder of thy brow,
Why livid angers glow,
Miſtaken phantom, ſay?
Far hence exert thy awful reign,
Where tutelary ſhrines and ſolemn bulls
Incloſe the hallow’d duſt:
Where feeble tapers ſhed a gloomy ray,
And ſtatues pity feign;
Where pale ey’d griefs their waſting vigils keep,
There brood with ſullen ſtate, and nod with downy ſleep.
Advance ye lurid miniſters of death!
And ſwell the annals of her reign:
Crack every nerve, ſluice every vein;
And choak the avenues of breath.
Freeze, freeze, ye purple tides!
Or ſcorch with ſeering flames,
Where nature flows in tepid ſtreams,
And life’s mæanders glide.
Let keen deſpair her icy progreſs make,
And ſlacken’d nerves their talk forſake;
Years damp the vital fire.
