XLIV.

ЕРІТАРН.

To Butler's venerable memory

By private gratitude for public worth

This monument is raised, here where twelve
Meekly the blameless Prelate exercised

years

His pastoral charge; and whither, though removed
A little while to Durham's wider See,

His mortal relics were conveyed to rest.
Born in dissent, and in the school of schism
Bred, he withstood the withering influence
Of that unwholesome nurture. To the Church,
In strength of mind mature and judgement clear,
A convert, in sincerity of heart

Seeking the truth, deliberately convinced,

And finding there the truth he sought, he came.
In honour must his high desert be held
While there is any virtue, any praise;
For he it was whose gifted intellect
First apprehended, and developed first
The analogy connate, which in its course
And constitution Nature manifests
To the Creator's word and will divine;
And in the depth of that great argument
Laying his firm foundation, built thereon

Proofs never to be shaken of the truths

Reveal'd from Heaven in mercy to mankind; Allying thus Philosophy with Faith,

And finding in things seen and known, the type And evidence of those within the veil.

XLV.

DEDICATION OF THE AUTHOR'S COLLOQUIES ON THE PROGRESS AND PROSPECTS OF SOCIETY.

ΤΟ

THE MEMORY OF THE REVEREND HERBERT HILL,

Formerly Student of Christ Church, Oxford: successively Chaplain to the British Factories at Porto and at Lisbon; and late Rector of Streatham; who was released from this life, Sept. 19. 1828, in the 80th year of his age.

NOT upon marble or sepulchral brass
Have I the record of thy worth inscribed,
Dear Uncle! nor from Chantrey's chisel ask'd
A monumental statue, which might wear
Through many an age thy venerable form.
Such tribute, were I rich in this world's wealth,
Should rightfully be rendered, in discharge
Of grateful duty, to the world evinced
When testifying so by outward sign
Its deep and inmost sense. But what I can
Is rendered piously, prefixing here
Thy perfect lineaments, two centuries
Before thy birth by Holbein's happy hand
Prefigured thus. It is the portraiture

Of More, the mild, the learned, and the good;
Traced in that better stage of human life,

When vain imaginations, troublous thoughts,

And hopes and fears have had their course, and left
The intellect composed, the heart at rest,
Nor yet decay hath touch'd our mortal frame.
Such was the man whom Henry, of desert
Appreciant alway, chose for highest trust;
Whom England in that eminence approved;
Whom Europe honoured, and Erasmus loved.
Such was he ere heart-hardening bigotry
Obscured his spirit, made him with himself
Discordant, and contracting then his brow,
With sour defeature marr'd his countenance.
What he was, in his best and happiest time,
Even such wert thou, dear Uncle! such thy look
Benign and thoughtful; such thy placid mien;
Thine eye serene, significant and strong,
Bright in its quietness, yet brightening oft
With quick emotion of benevolence,
Or flash of active fancy, and that mirth
Which aye with sober wisdom well accords.
Nor ever did true Nature, with more nice
Exactitude, fit to the inner man

The fleshly mould, than when she stampt on thine
Her best credentials, and bestow'd on thee
An aspect, to whose sure benignity

Beasts with instinctive confidence could trust,
Which at a glance obtain'd respect from men,
And won at once good will from all the good.

Such as in semblance, such in word and deed
Lisbon beheld him, when for many a year
The even tenour of his spotless life

Adorn'd the English Church,.. her minister
In that strong hold of Rome's Idolatry,
To God and man approved. What Englishman,
Who in those peaceful days of Portugal
Resorted thither, curious to observe

Her cities, and the works and ways of men,
But sought him, and from his abundant stores
Of knowledge profited? What stricken one,
Sent thither to protract a living death,
Forlorn perhaps, and friendless else, but found
A friend in him? What mourners, . . who had seen
The object of their agonizing hopes

In that sad cypress ground deposited
Wherein so many a flower of British growth,
Untimely faded and cut down, is laid,

In foreign earth compress'd, . . but bore away
A life-long sense of his compassionate care,
His Christian goodness? Faithful shepherd he,
And vigilant against the wolves, who there,
If entrance might be won, would straight beset
The dying stranger, and with merciless zeal
Bay the death-bed. In every family

Throughout his fold was he the welcome guest,
Alike to every generation dear,

The children's favourite, and the grandsire's friend;
Tried, trusted and beloved. So liberal too

In secret alms, even to his utmost means,

That they who served him, and who saw in part
The channels where his constant bounty ran,
Maugre their own uncharitable faith,

Believed him, for his works, secure of Heaven.