The Banks of Wye | Page 4

parents, brother, and sister, on the 11th of September, 1804, in the sixteenth year of his age.
GOD'S WILL BE DONE,
"Who, in his mercy, hath granted consolation to the parents of the dear departed, in the reflection, that he possessed truth, innocence, filial piety, and fraternal affection, in the highest degree. That, but a few moments before he was called to a better life, he had (with a never to be forgotten piety) joined his family in joyful thanks to his Maker, for the restoration of his mother's health. His parents, in justice to his amiable virtue, and excellent disposition, declare, that he was void of offence towards them. With humbled hearts they bow to the Almighty's dispensation; trusting, through the mediation of his blessed Son, he will mercifully receive their child he so suddenly took to himself.
"This monument is here erected to warn parents and others how they trust the deceitful stream; and particularly to exhort them to learn and observe the directions of the Humane Society, for the recovery of persons apparently drowned. Alas! it is with the extremest sorrow here commemorated, what anguish is felt from a want of this knowledge. The lamented swam very well; was endowed with great bodily strength and activity; and possibly, had proper application been used, might have been saved from his untimely fate. He was born at Oporto, in the kingdom of Portugal, on the 14th of February, 1789; third son of James Warre, of London, and of the county of Somerset, merchant, and Elinor, daughter of Thomas Gregg, of Belfast, Esq.
"Passenger, whoever thou art, spare this tomb! It is erected for the benefit of the surviving, being but a poor record of the grief of those who witnessed the sad occasion of it. God preserve you and yours from such calamity! May you not require their assistance; but if you should, the apparatus, with directions for the application by the Humane Society, for the saving of persons apparently drowned, are lodged at the church of Coldwell."
On the opposite side is inscribed?"It is with gratitude acknowledged by the parents of the deceased, that permission was gratuitously, and most obligingly, granted for the erection of this monument, by William Vaughan, Esq. of Courtfield."]
Nothing could damp th'awaken'd joy,?Not e'en thy fate, ingenuous boy;?The great, the grand of Nature strove,?To lift our hearts to life and love.?HAIL! COLDWELL ROCKS; frown, frown away;?Thrust from your woods your shafts of gray:?Fall not, to crush our mortal pride,?Or stop the stream on which we glide.?Our lives are short, our joys are few;?But, giants, what is time to you??Ye who erect, in many a mass,?Rise from the scarcely dimpled glass,?That with distinct and mellow glow,?Reflect your monstrous forms below;?Or in clear shoals, in breeze or sun,?Shake all your shadows into one;?Boast ye o'er man in proud disdain,?An everlasting silent reign??Bear ye your heads so high in scorn?Of names that puny man hath borne??Would that the Cambrian bards had here?Their names carv'd deep, so deep, so clear,?That such as gaily wind along,?Might shout and cheer them with a song;?Might rush on wings of bliss away,?Through Fancy's boundless blaze of day!
Not nameless quite ye lift your brows,?For each the navigator knows;?Not by King Arthur, or his knights,?Bard faim'd in lays, or chief in fights:?But former tourists, just us free,?(Tho' surely not so blest as we,)?Mark'd towering BEARCROFT'S ivy crown,?And grey VANSITTART'S waving gown:?And who's that giant by his side??"SERGEANT ADAIR," the boatman cried.?Strange may it seem, however true,?That here, where law has nought to do,?Where rules and bonds are set aside,?By wood, by rock, by stream defy'd;?That here, where nature seems at strife?With all that tells of busy life,?Man should by names be carried still,?To Babylon against his will.
But how shall memory rehearse,?Or dictate the untoward verse?That truth demands? Could he refuse?Thy unsought honours, darling Muse,?He who in idle, happy trim,?Rode just where friends would carry him??Truth, I obey.--The generous band,?That spread his board and grasp'd his hand,?In native mirth, as here they came,?Gave a bluff rock his humble name:?A yew-tree clasps its rugged base;?The boatman knows its reverend face;?And with his memory_ and his _fee,?Rests the result that time shall see.?Yet e'en if time shall sweep away?The fragile whimsies of a day;?Or travellers rest the dashing oar,?To hear the mingled echoes roar;?A stranger's triumph--he will feel?A joy that death alone can steal.?And should he cold indifference feign,?And treat such honours with disdain,?Pretending pride shall not deceive him,?Good people all, pray don't believe him;?In such a spot to leave a name,?At least is no opprobrious fame;?This rock perhaps uprear'd his brow,?Ere human blood began to flow.
And let not wandering strangers fear?That WYE is ended there or here;?Though foliage close, though hills may seem?To bar all access to a stream,?Some airy height he climbs amain,?And finds the silver eel again.?No fears we