Verses
To the memory of Denzil Ibbetson, fourth son of sir Henry Ibbetson, bart., who unfortunately lost his life by an accidental discharge of his gun when shooting at Cocken, near Durham, the seat of his aunt, lady Mary Carr, sister of Henry earl of Darlington—1774.
1.
Thy fate, lamented Ibbetson, we were.
With an unfeign’d and sympathetic tear;
Thy virtues, on our mem’ries graven deep,
Recall the painful thought of what was dear.
2.
Yet ’tis not for thy sufferings, but our own,
That heaves the heartfelt melancholy sigh,
That death, which haply cost thee not a groan,
Leaves us to mourn with what we ne’er can vie.
3.
That life, good humour, and that manly sense,
Those ever-pleasing ties, that friendly heart,
Which but unwittingly could give offence,
Disarm’d ev’n Death’s grim tyrant of his dart.
4.
Without one pang or agonizing groan,
Thy soul reliev’d forsook its vile abode,
For joys more worthy of the good alone—
“The bosom of thy Father and thy God.”