Digitized by the Internet Arciiive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporatipn http://www.archive.org/details/cowperpoemsOOcowprich • •• ••••• • » • •••••• "•••' [UHIVEESITTj I 9 • • ' «• • • ^^ a-^' POEM S, ' * \ ^"^ h-^-^v ^ WILLIAM COWPERp, ESQ TOGETHER WITH HIS * POSTHUMOUS POETRY, A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE BY JOHN JOHNSOl^ LL. D, THREE VOLUMES IN ONE. NEW EDITION. BOSTGlSr: PHILLIPS, SAM^j^AND COMPANY. NEW Yoi^^^K. DERBY. 1 Jo :*<r' ^A \ (^ 'lA^¥^ m fR33iOM:iiSf.M'M'^ CONTENTS \ THE FIRST VOLUME. •Tl'able Talk, Progress of Errour, Truth, Expostulation, Hope, Qiarity, Conversation, Retirement, w <rhe Yearly Distress, or Tithing Time at Stock in Essex, - - - . Sonnet to Henry Cowper, Esq. Lines addressed to Dr. Darwin, •*»On Mrs. Montagu's Feather-Hangings, .^ ^■^rerses, supposed to be WKtteinTjy Alexander Selkirk during his abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez, - - - On the promotion of Edward Thurlow, Esq. to the Chancellorship of England, Ode to Peac^ ... \ ^ Human Frailty, ^' T|je Modern Patriot, On observing some names of little Note recorded in the Biographia Britannica, leport of an admdged Case, not to be found in any of the Books, On the Burning of Lord Mansfield's Library, On the Same, ... The Love of the Worlii^^Qved, 11' 32 49 65 85 106^ 124 149 7. J 71 174 175 176 . 178' - 180 - 181 182 - 183 - 184 u **l*^Oji the death of Lady, ••^"he Rose, -c-^Ihe Doves, V-' A Fable, orton's Bulfinch,if 4 CONTENTS. A. Comparison, Another, addfessed to a young Lady, The Poet's New Year's Gift, Ode to Apollo, - - Pairing Time anticipated, a Fable, The Dog and the Water Lily, - 'r *Thc Poet, tiff Oyster, and the Sensitivo Plant, The Shrubbery, - - - - The Wint* Nosegay, - - - Mutual Fof>earance nece^ary to the happiness of the ^Married State, - - - ^The Negro's Complaint, - - - r^\ ** Pity for p0or Africans, - • ^" The Morning Dream, :7 'J>»irtie Nightingale and Glow-worm, ^ ^ On a Goldfinch starved to death in his Cage, The Pine Apple and the Bee, Horace, Book IL Ode X. - A reflection on the foregoing Ode, The Lily and the Rose, - - - Idem, Latine Redditum, - - - ^-^^The Poplar Field, - - - - Idem, Latine Redditum, - - - Votum, - - Translations from Vincent Bourne, Cicindela, - - - - . - The Glow-worm, - . • - Cornicula, - - The Jackdaw, . - - Ad Grillum. Anacreonticum, - The Cricket, - - - * - Simile agit in simile, - - - The Parrot, - - - - Translation of Prior's Q^i^^fa^ Euphelia, 195 196 ibid. 4 197 204 205 ^f^SiX^e History of John^ pistle to an afflicted To the Rev. W. C. Unwin, Ch^^id E [ P^^l^nt I Lady \n France, PREFACE TO THE FIRST VOLUME. When an Author, by appearing in print, requesia an audience of the publick, and is upon the point of speaking for himself, whoever presumes to step before him with a preface, and to say, *' Nay, but hear me first," should have something worthy of attention to offer, or he will be justly deemed officious and imper tinent. The judicious reader has, probably upon other occasions, been beforehand with me in this reflection : and I am not very willing it should now be applied to me, however I may seem to expose myself to the dan ger of it. But the thought of having my own name perpetuate4 in connexion with the name in the title page, is so pleasing and flattering to the feelings of my heart, that I am content to risk something for the gratification. This Preface is not designed to commend the Poems to which it is prefixed. My testimony would be in- sufficient for those who are not qualified to judge pro- perly for themselves, and unnecessary to those who are. Besides, the reasons which render it improper and unseemly for a man to celebrate his own perform- ances, or those of his nearest relatives, will have some 1* 6 PREFACE influence in suppressing rvnch. of what he might otheN wise wish to say in favour of a friend, when that friend is indeed an alter idenij and excites almost the same emotions of sensibility and affection as he fee - for liimself. It is very probable that these Poems may come into the hands of some persons, in whom the sight of the author's name will awaken a recollection of incidents and scenes, which, through length of time, they had al- most forgotten. They will be reminded of one, who was once the companioTi of their chosen hours, and who set out with them in early life in the paths which lead to literary honours, to influence and affluence, with equal prospects of success. But he was suddenly and powerfully withdrawn from those pursuits, and he left them without regret ; yet not till he had sufficient opportunity of counting the cost and of knowing the value of what he gave up. If happiness could have been found in classical attainments, in an elegant taste, in the exertions of wit, fancy, and genius, and in the esteem and converse of such persons as in these re- spects were mo t congenial with himself, he would have been happy. But he was not — He wondeted (as thou- sands in a similar situation still do) that he should con-- tinue dissatisfied, with all the means apparently conducive to satisfaction within his reach. But in due time the cause of his disappointment was discovered to him ; he had lived without God in the world In a memorable hour the wisdom which is from above visit- ed his heart. Then he felt himself a Wanderer, and then he found a guide. Upon this change of views, a change of plan and conduct fallowed of course. When ho saw the buey and the gay world in its true light, ha PREFACE. 7 lefl it ifHtli as little reluctance as a prisoner, ^hen called lo liberty, kaves his dungeon. Not that he became a Cynick or an Ascetick — A heart filled with love to God will assuredly breathe benevolence to men. But the turn of his temper inclining him to rural life, he in- dulged it, and the Providence of God evidently prepar- ing his way and marking out liis retreat, he retired into the country. By these steps the good hand of God, unknown to me, was providing for me one of the principal blessings of my life ; a friend and a counsellor, in whose company for almost seven years, though we were seldom seven successive waking hours sepa- rated, I always found new pleasure. A friend who was not only a comfort to myself, but a blessing to the af- fectionate poor people, among whom I then lived. Some time after inclination had thus removed him from the hurry and bustle of life, he was still more se- cluded by a long indisposition, and my pleasure was succeeded by a proportionable degree of anxiety and concern. But a hope that the God whom he served W'ould support him under his affliction, and at length vouchsafe him a happy deliverance, never forsook me. The desirable crisis, I trust, is now nearly approaching. The dawn, the presage of returning day, is already ar- rived. He is again enabled to resume his pen, and some of the first fruits of his recovery are here pre- sented to the publick. In his principal subjects, the same acumen, which distinguished him in the early period of life, is happily employed in illustrating and enforcing the truths of which he received such deep, and unalterable impressions in his maturer years. His sa- tire, if it may be called so, is benevolent, (like the ope* rations of the skilful and humane surgeon, who wounds 8 PREFACE. only to heal,) dictated by a just regard for the honour of God| and indignant grief excited by the profligacy of the age, and a tender compassion for the souls of men. His favourite topicks are least insisted on in the piece entitled Table Talk ; which, therefore, with re- gard to the prevailing taste, and that those who are go- verned by it may not be discouraged at the very thresh- old from proceeding further, is placed first. In most of the large Poems which follow, his leading design is more explicitly avowed and pursued. He aims to com- municate his own perceptions of the truth, beauty, and influence of the religion of the Bible — A religion which however discredited by the misconduct of many who have not renounced the Christian name, proves itself, when rightly understood, and cordially embraced, to be the grand desideratum, which alone can relieve the mind of man from painful and xmavoidable anxieties, inspire it with stable peace and solid hope, and furnish those motives and prospects, which, in the present state of things, are absolutely necessary to produce a conduct worthy of a rational cieature, distinguished by a vastness of capacity which no assemblage of earthly good can satisfy, and by a principle and pre-intimation of immortality. At a time when hypothesis and conjecture in philo- sophy are so justly exploded, and little is considered as deserving the name of knowledge which will not stand the test of experiment, the very use of the term experimental, in religious concernments, is by too many unhappily rejected with disgust. But we well know, that they who affect to despise the inward teel- ings which religious persons speak of, and to treat PREFACE 9 them as enthusiasm and folly, have inward feelings of their own, which, though they would, they cannot sup^ j^iesB. We have been too long in the secret ourselves, to account the proud, the ambitious, or the voluptuous, happy. We must lose the remembrance of what we once were, before we can believe that a man is satis- fied with himself, merely because he endeavours to appear so. A smile upon the face is often but a mask worn occasionally and in company, to prevent, if possi ble, a suspicion of what at the. same time is passing in the heart. We know that there are people who seldom smile when they are alone ; who, therefore, are glad to hide themselves in a throng from the violence of their own reflections ; and who, while by their looks and language they wish to persuade us they are happy, would be glad to change their conditions with a dog. But in defiance of all their efforts, they continue to think, forebode, and tremble. This we know, for it has been our own state, and therefore we know how to commiserate it in others. From this state the Bible relieved us. When we were led to read it with atten- tion, we found ourselves described- We learned the causes of our inquietude — We were directed to a me- thod of relief — we tried, and we were not disappointed. DEUS NOBIS H^C OTIA FECIT. We are now certain, that the gospel of Christ is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth It has reconciled us to God, and to ourselves ; to our. duty, and our situation. It is the balm and cordial of the present life, and a sovereign antidote against the fears of death. Sed hactenus hiec. Some smaller pieces upon less 10 PREFACE. important subjects close the volume. Not one of them I believe was written with a view to publication, but I was unwilling they should be omitted. JOHN NEWTON. Charles Square, Hoxton, FcDruaiy 18, 1782. TABLE TALK. Si te forth me<B gravis uret sarcina charicbi Mjictto Hor. lib. i. Epist. 13. ^. You told me, I remember, glory, built On selfish principles, is shame and guilt ; The deeds that men admire as half divine, Stark naught, because corrupt in tkeir design. Strange doctrine this ! that without scruple tears 5 The laurel that the very lig:htning spares ; Brings down the warriors trophy to the dust, And eats into his bloody sword like rust. B. I grant, that men continuing what they are, Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war ; 10 And never meant the rule should be applied To him that fights with justice on his side. Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews, Reward his mem'ry, dear to ev'ry muse, "'"'^-' Who, with a courage of unshaken root, 15 In honour's field advancing his firm foot. Plants it upon the line that Justice draws, And will prevail, or perish in her cause. *Tis to the virtues of such men, man owes His portion in the good that Heav'n bestows. 20 And when recording History displays Feats of renown, though wrought in ancient dp.yS, Tells of a few stout hearts, that fought and died Where duty plac'd them — at their country's side ; The man, that is not mov'd with what he reads, 21 That takes not fire at their heroick deeds, Unworthy of the blessings of the brave, Is base in kind, and born to be a shv: 12 ' TABLE TALK. ^ V^ But let eternal infamy pursue The wretch to naught but his ambition true, 30 Who, for the sake of filling with one blast The post horns of all Europe, lays her waste Think yourself station'd on a tow'ring roci To see a people scatter'd like a flock, Some royal mastiff panting at their heels, 35 With all the savage thirst a tiger feels : Then vi3w him self-proclaim'd in a gazette Chief monster that has plagued the nations yet. The globe and sceptre in such hands misplac'd, Those ensigns of dominion, how disgraced ! 40 The glass that bids man mark the fleeting hour, And Death's ownsithe would better speak his pow'r. Then grace the bony phantom in their stead With the king's shoulderknot and gay cockade ; Clothe the twin brethren in each other's dress, 45 The same their occupation and success. A. 'Tis your belief the world was made for man ; Kings do but reason on the self-same plan : Maintaining yours, you cannot theirs condemn, Who thinlt, or seem to think, man made for them. 50 B. Seldom, alas ! the power of logick reigns, With much sufficiency in royal brains ; Such reas'ning falls hke an inverted cone. Wanting its proper base to stand upon. Man made for kings 1 those opticks are but dim, 55 That tell you so — say, rather, they for him. That were indeed a king-ennobling thought, Gould they, or would they, reason as they ought. The diadem with mighty projects lin'd, To catch renown by ruining mankind, 60 Is worth, with all its gold and glitt'ring store, Just what the toy will sell for, and no more. Qh ! bright occasions of dispensing good, How seldom used, how little understood ! To pour in Virtue's lap her just reward \ 65 Keep vice restrain'd behind a double guard j TABLE TALK. i. To quell the fiction that affronts the throne, By silent magnanimity alone ; To nurse with tender care the thriving arts ; Watch ev'ry beam Philosophy imparts ; ?0 To give Religion her unbridled scope, Nor judge by statute a believer's hope ; With close fidelity and love unfeign'd, To keep the matrimonial bond unstain'd ; Covetous only of a virtuous praise ; 75 His life a lesson to the land he sways ; To touch the sword with conscientious awe, Nor draw it but when duty bids him draw ; To sheath it in the peace-restoring close With joy beyond what victory bestaws ; 80 Blest country where these kingly glories shine ! Blest England, if this happiness be thine ! j1. Guard what you say ; the patriotick tribe Will sneer and charge you with a bribe. — B. A bribe ? The worth of his three kingdoms I defy, 85 To lure me to the baseness of a lie ; And, of all lies, (be that one poet's boast,) The lie that flatters I abhor the most. Those arts be theirs, who hate his gentle reign, But he that loves him has no need to fain. 90 j3. Your smooth eulogium to one crown f^ddress'd, Seems to imply a censure on the rest. B. Quevedo, as he teils his sober tale, Ask'd, when in Hell, to see the royal jail ; Approved their method in all other things ; 95 But where, good sir, do you confine your kings.'* There, said his guide — the group is full in view. Indeed ? — replied the Don — there are but few. His black interpreter the charge disdaln'd — Few, fellow ? — ^there are all that ever reign'd. lO'J Wit, undistinguishing, is apt to strike The guilty and not guilty, both alike. I grant the sarcasm is too severe, And we can readily refute it here } Vol. I. 3 14 TABLE TALK. While Alfred's name, the father of his age, 105 And the Sixth Edward's grace th' historick page. A. Kings then at last have but the lot of all : By their own conduct they must stand or fall B. True. While they live, the courtly laureat pays His quit -rent ode, his peppercorn of praise ; 110 And many a dunce, whose fingers itch to write, Adds, as he can, his tributary mite : A subject's faults a subject may proclaim, A monarch's errors are forbidden game ! Thus free from censure, overaw'd by fear, 115 And prais'd for virtues that they scorn to wear, The fleeting forms of majesty engage Respect, while stalking o'er life's narrow stage ; Then leave their crimes for history to scan. And ask with busy scorn, Was this the nrjan ^ 120 I pity kings, whom Worship waits upon. Obsequious from the cradle to the throne ; Before whose infant eyes the flatt'rer bows. And binds a wreath about their baby brows ; Whom Education stiffens into state, 125 And Death awakens from that dream too late. Oh ! if Servility with supple knees. Whose trade it is to smile, to crouch, to please ; If smooth Dissimulation, skill'd to grace A devil's purpose with an angel's face ; 130 If smiling peeresses, and simp 'ring peers. Encompassing his throne a few short years ; If the gilt carriage and the pamper'd steed. That wants no driving, and disdains the lead ; If guards, mechanically form'd in ranks, 135 Playing, at beat of drum, their martial pranks, Should'ring and standing as if stuck to stone, While condescending majesty looks on j If monarchy consist in such base things, Sighhig, I say again, I pity kings I 14C To be suspected, thwarted, and withstood, E'en when he labours for his country's good, TABLE TALK. 15 To see a band call'd patriot for no cause, But that they catch at popular applause, Careless of all the anxiety he feels, 145 Hook disappointment on the publick wheels j With all their flippant fluency of tongue. Most confident, when palpably most wrong ; If this be kingly, then farewell for me All kingship ; and may I be poor and free ! 15C To be the Table Talk of clubs up stairs, To which th' unwash'd artificer repairs, T' indulge his genius after long fatigue. By diving into cabinet intrigue ; (For what kings deem'd a toil, as well they may, 155 To him is relaxation and mere play,) To win no praise, when well-wrought plans prevail, But to be rudely censur'd when they fail ; To doubt the love his fav'rites may pretend. And in reality to find no friend ; 160 If he indulge a cultivated taste, His gall'ries with the works of art well grac'd. To hear it call'd extravagance and waste j If these attendants, and if such as these. Must follow royalty, then welcome ease : 165 However humble and confin'd the sphere, Happy the state that has not these to fear. A. Thus men, whose thoughts contemplative have dwelt On situations that they never felt, Start up sagacious, cover'd with the dust 170 Of dreaming study and pedantick rust. And prate and preach about what others prove. As if the world and they were hand and glove. Leave kingly backs to cope with kingly cares j They have their weight to carry, subjects theirs ; \1\> Poets, of all men, ever least regret Increasing taxes, and the nation's debt. Could you contrive the payment, and rehearse The mighty plan, oraculat in verse, 16 TABLE TALK. No bard, howe'er majestick, old or new, 180 Should claim my fix'd attention more than you. B. Not Brindley nor Bridge water would essay To turn the course of Helicon that way ; Nor would the Nine consent the sacred tide Should purl amidst the trafRck of Cheapside, 185 Or tinkle in Change Alley, to amuse The leathern ears of stockjobbers and Jews. ^. Vouchsafe, at least, to pitch the key of ihyme To themes more pertinent, if less sublime. When ministers and ministerial arts; 190 Patriots, who love good places at their hearts ; When admirals extoU'd for standing still, Or doing nothing with a deal of skill ; Gen'rals who will not conquer when they may, Firm friends to peace, to pleasure, and good pay ; 195 When Freedom, wounded almost to despair. Though Discontent alone can find out where ; When themes like these employ the poet's tongue, I hear as mute as if a syren sung. Or tell me, if you can, what pow'r maintains 200 A Briton's scorn of arbitrary chains ? That were a theme might animate the dead. And move the lips of poets cast in lead. B. The cause, tho' worth the search, may yet eludo Conjecture and remark, however shrewd. 2u5 They take perhaps a well-directed aim. Who seek it in his climate and his frame. Lib'ral in all things else, yet Nature here With stern severity deals out the year. Winter invades the spring, and often pours 210 A chilling flood on summer's drooping flow'rs , Unwelcome vapours quench autumnal beams, Ungenial blasts attending curl the streams ; The peasants urge their harvest, ply the fork With double toil, and shiver at their work ; • 215 Thus with a rigour, for his good design'd, She rears her ^av'rito man of all mankind. Hrt form robust, ana of elastick tone, Plajportion'd well, half muscle and half bone S»if plies with warm activity and force 220 A xnind well lodg'd, and mascuUne of course. Hence Liberty, sweet Liberty inspires, And keeps alive his fierce but nobl« fires. Patient of constitutional control, He bears it with meek manliness of soul ; 225 But, if Authority grow wanton, v/o To him that treads upon his free-born toe ; One step beyond the bound'ry of the laws Fires him at once in Freedom's glorious cause. Thus proud prerogative, not much rever'd, 230 Is seldom felt, though sometimes seen and heard ; And in his cage, like parrot fine and gay, Is kept to strut, look big, and talk away. Born in a climate softer far than ours, Not forra'd like us, with such Herculean powr's, 235 The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk. Is always happy, reign whoever may, And laughs the sense of mis'ry far away. He drinks his simple bev'rage with a gust ; 240 And, feasting on an onion and a crust, We never feel the alacrity and joy With which he shouts and carols Vive le Roi ! Fill'd with as much true merriment and glee, As if he heard his king say — ' Slave, be free !*• 245 Thus happiness depends, as Nature shows, Less on exteriour things than most suppose. Vigilant over all that he has made. Kind Providence attends with gracious aid ; Bids equity throughout his works prevail, 250 And weighs the nations in an even scale ; He can encourage slav'ry to a smile, And fill with discontent a British isle. Ji Freeman and slave, then, if the case be suclv Sland on a level ; and you prove too much : 255' 2« 18 TABLE TALK. If all men indiscriminately share His fost'ring power, and tutelary care, As wel! be yok'd by Despotism's hand, As dwell at large in Britain's charter'd land. B. No. Freedom has a thousand charms to show, 26C That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. The mind attains beneath her happy reign The growth, that Nature meant she should attain ', The varied fields of science, ever new, Op'ning, and wider op'ning, on her view, 2^ She ventures onward with a prosp'rous force, While no base fear impedes her in her course. Religion, richest favour of the skies, Stands most reveal'd before the freeman's eyes ; No shades of superstition blot the day, 870 Liberty chases all that gloom away ; The soul emancipated, unoppress'd. Free to prove all things, and hold fast the best, Learns much ; and to a thousand list'ning minds Communicates with joy the good she finds ; 275 Courage in arms, and ever prompt to show His manly forehead to the fiercest foe ; Glorious in war, but for the sake of peace, His spirits rising as his toils inciease. Guards well what arts and industry have Won, 290 And Freedom claims him for her first-born son. Slaves fight for what were better cast away — The chain that binds them, and a tyrant's sway ; But they that fight for freedom, undertake The noblest cause mankind can have at stake 285 Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call A blessmg — ^freedom is the pledge of all. O Liberty ! the pris'ners pleasing drearh, The poet's muse, his passion, and his theme ; Genius is thine, and thou art Fancy's nurse ; 290 Lost v/ithout thee th' ennobling pow'rs of verse ; Heroick song from thy free touch acquires Its clearest tone, the rapture it inspires. :^.. TABLE TALK. * 19 Place me wliere Winter breathes his keenest air, And I will sing, if Liberty be there ; 295 And I will sing at Liberty's dear feet, In Afric's torrid clime, or India's nercest heat. A. Sing where you please ; in such a cause I grant An English poet's privilege to rant ; But is not Freedom — at least, is not ours, 300 Too apt to play the wanton with her pow'rs. Grow freakish, and, o'erleaping every mound, Spread anarchy and terrour all around ? B. Agreed. But would you sell or slay your horse For bounding and curvetting in his course ? 305 Or if, when ridden with a careless rein. He break away, and seek the distant plain ? No. His high mettle, under good control. Gives him Olympick speed, and shoots hirn to the goal. Let Discipline employ her wholesome arts ; 31C Let magistrates alert perform their parts, Not skulk or put on a prudential mask, As if their duty were a desperate task ; Let active Laws apply the needful curb, To guard the Peace, that Riot would disturb ; 315 And Liberty, preserv'd from wild excess. Shall raise no feuds for armies to suppress. When Tumult lately burst his prison door, And set plebeian thousands in a roar ; When he usurp'd Authority's just place, 320 And dar'd to look his master in the face : When the rude rabble's watchword was — destroy, And blazing London seem'd a second Troy ; Liberty blush'd, and hung her drooping head, Beheld their progress with the deepest dread ; 325 Blush'd that effects like these she should produce^ Worse than the deeds of galley-slaves broke loose She loses in such storms her very name, And fierce Licentiousness should bear the blame. Incomparable gem ! thy worth untold ; 330 Cheap, the' blood-bought, and thrown away when sold , 20 * TABLE TALK. May no foes ravish thee, and no false friend Betray thee, while professing to defend ! Prize it, ye ministers ; ye monarchs, spare ; Ye patriots, guard it with a miser's care. 335 A, Patriots, alas ! the few that have been fodad Where nrost they flourish, upon English ground, The country's need have scantily supplied. And the last left the scene, when Chatham died. B, Not so — the virtue still adorns our age, 340 Though the chief actor died upon the stage. In him Demosthenes was heard again ; Liberty taught him her Athenian strain : She cloth'd him with authority and awe. Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law. 345 His speech, his form, his action, full of grace, And all his country beaming in his face, He stood,..as some inimitable hand Would strive to make a Paul or TuUy stand. No sycophant or slave, that dar'd oppose 350 Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose ; And ev'ry venal stickler for the yoke Felt himself crush'd at the first word he spoke. Such men are rais'd to station and command, When Providence means mercy to a land. 355 He speaks, and they appear : to him they owe Skill to direct, and strength to strike the blow ; To manage with address, to seize with pow'r The crisis of a dark decisive hour. . So Gideon earn'd a victory not his own ; 3GQ Subserviency his praise, and that alone. Poor England ! thou art a devoted deer, Beset with every ill but that of fear. Thee nations hunt } all mark thee for a prey ; They swarm around thee, and thou stand'st at ba^ 365 Undaunted still, though wearied and perplex'd, Once Chatham sav'd thee ; but who saves thee Df.y t .*' Alas ! the tide of pleasure sweeps along ! All, that should be the boa^ of British song. TABLE TALK. 21 'Tis not the wreath, that once adorn'd thy brow, 370 The prize of happier times, will serve thee now Our ancestry, a gallant, Christian race, Patterns of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace, Confes'd a God ; they kneel'd before they fought, And prais'd him in the victories he wrought. 375 Now from the dust of ancient days bring forth 1 heir sober zeal, integrity, and worth , Courage ungrac'd by these, affronts the skies, Is but the fire without the sacrifice. Tne stream, that feeds the well-spring of the heart, 380 Not more invigorates life's noblest part. Than Virtue quickens with a warmth divine The pow'rs that Sin has brought to a decline. A. Th' inestimable Estimate of Brown Rose like a paper kite, and charm'd the town ; 385 But measures, plann'd and executed well, Shifted the wind that raised it, and it fell. He trod the very self-same groiind you tread. And Victory refuted all he said. B. And yet his judgment was not fram*d amiss ; 390 Its errour, if it err'd, was merely this — He thought the dying hour already come, And a complete recov'ry struck him dumb. But that efieminacy, folly, lust. Enervate and enfeeble, and needs must ; 395 And that a nation shamefully debas'd Will be despis'd and trampled on at last, Unless sweet Penitence her pow'rs renew ; Is truth, if history itself be true. There is a time and Justice marks the date, 400 For long-forbearing clemency to wait ; That hour elaps'd th' incurable revolt Is punish'd, and down comes the thunderbolt. If mercy then put by the threat'ning blow, Must she perform the same kind office now f 405 May she ? and if offended Heav n be still Accessible, and pray'r prevail, she will 22 TABLE TALK. 'TIS not, however, insolence and noise, I'he tempest of tumultuary joys, Nor is it yet despondence and dismay 410 Will win her visits, or engage her stay ; Pray T only, and the penitential tear. Can call her smiUng down, and fix her here But when a country, (one that I could name,) In prostitution sinks the sense of shame ; 415 When infamous Venality, grown bold, Writes on his bosom, To be let or sold ; When Perjury, that Heav'n-defying vice, Sells oaths by tale, and at the lowest price, Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, 420 To turn a penny in the way of trade j When Av'rice starves, (and never hides his face,) Two or three millions of the human race. And not a tongue inquires, how, where, or when, Though conscience will have twinges now and then ; When profanation of the sacred cause, 426 In all its parts, times, ministry, and laws. Bespeaks a land, once Christian, fall'n and lost. In all, but wars against that title most j What follows next let cities of great name, 430 And regions long since desolate, proclaim. Nineveh, Babylon, and ancient Rome, Speak to the present times, and times to come ; They cry aloud in ev'ry careless ear, Stop while you may ; suspend your mad career j 435 O learn from our example and our fate, Learn wisdom and repentance ere too late. Not only Vice disposes and prepares The mind, that slimibers sweetly in her snares. To stoop to Tyranny's usurp'd command, 440 And bend her polish'd neck beneath his hand, (A dire effect, by one of Nature's laws, Orchangeabiy connected with its cause ;) But Providence himself will intervene. To throw his dark displeasure o*er the scene 445 TABLE TALK. 23 All are his instruments ; each form of war, What bums at home, or threatens from afar : Nature in arras, her elements at strife. The storms that overset the joys of life. Are but liis rods to scourge a gi-uty land, 450 And waste it at the bidding of his hand. He gives the word, and Mutiny soon roars In all her gates, and shakes her distant shores ; The standards of all nations are unfiirl'd ; She has one foe, and that one foe the world. 455 And, if he doom that people with a frown, And mark them with a seal of wrath press'd down, Obduracy takes place : callous and tough. The reprobated race grows judgment proof; Earth shakes beneath them, and Heav'n roars above; 460 But nothing scares them ftom the course they love. To the lascivious pipe and wanton song. That charm down fear, they frolick it along, With mad rapidity and unconcern, Down to the gulf, from which is no return. 465 They trust in navies, and their navies fail — God's curse can cast away ten thousand sail ! They trust in armies, and their courage dies ; In wisdom, wealth, in fortune, and in lif^s , But all they trust in, withers, as it must,' 470 When He commands, in whom they place no trust. Vengeance at last pours down upon their coast A long despis'd, but now victorious, host ; Tyranny sends the chain, that must abridge The noble sweep of all their privilege ; 475 Gives liberty the last, the mortal shock : Slips tho slave's collar on, and snaps the lock. A. Such lofty strains embellish what you teach. Mean you to prophesy, or but to preach ? B. I know the mind that feels indeed the fire 48(1 The muse imparts, and can command the lyre. Acts with a force and kindles with a zeal, Whato'er the theme, that others never feeL 24 TABLF TALK. If hum in woes her soft attention claim, A tender sympathy pervades the frame } 435 She pours a sensibility divine Along the nerves of every feeling line. But if a deed not tamely to be borne Fire indignation and a sense of scorn, The strings are swept with such a pow*r so loud, 490 The storm of musick shakes th' astonish'd crowd. So, when remote futurity is brought Before the keen inquiry of her thought, A terrible sagacity informs The poet's heart ; he looks to distant storms ; 495 He hears the thunder ere the tempest low'rs j And, arm'd with strength surpassing human pow'rS;^ Seizes events as yet unknown to man, And darts his soul into the dawning plan. Hence in a Roman mouth, the gracf Tul name 500 Of prophet and of poet was the same ; Hence, British poets, too, tho priesthood shar'd. And every hallow'd druid was a bard. But no prophetick fires to me belong ; I play with syllables, and sport in song. 505 j3. At Westminster, where little poets strive To set a distich upon six and five, Where Discipline helps th' op'ning buds of sense, And makes his pupils proud with silver pence, I was a poet too : but modern taste 510 Is so refin'd, and deUcate, and chaste, That verse, whatever fire the fancy warms. Without a creamy smoothness has no charms. Thus, all success depending on an ear, And thinking I might purchase it too dear, 515 If sentiment were sacrific'd to sound, And truth cut short to make a period round, I judg'd a man of sense could scarce do worse, Than caper in the morris-dance of verse. B. Thus reputation is a spur to wit, 520 And some wits flag through fear of losing it TABLE TALK 25 Oive me Iha line that ploughs its stately course Like a proud swan, conqu'ring the stream by force j That, like some cottage beauty, strikes the heaxt, Quite unindebted to the tricks of art. 525 When Labour and when Dulness club in hand, Like the two figures at St. Dunstan's, stand, Beating alternately in measur'd time, The clock-work tintinabulum of rhyme, Exact and regular the sounds will be j 530 But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me. From him who rears a poem lank and long, To him who strains his all into a song ; Perhaps some bonny Caledonian air, All birks and braes, though he was never there 5 536 Or, having whelp 'd a prologue with great pains. Feels himself spent, and fumbles for his brains ; A prologue interdash'd with many a stroke — An art contriv'd to advertise a joke. So that the jest is clearly to be seen, 540 Not in the words — ^but in the gap between : Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ To substitute for genius, sense, and wit. To dally much with subjects mean and low Proves that the mind is weak, or makes it so. 545 Neglected talents rust into decay, And ev'ry effort ends in pushpin play. The man that means success should soar above A soldier's feather, or a lady's glove ; Else, summoning the muse to such a theme, 560 The fruit of all her labour is whipp'd cream, As if an eagle flew alofl, and then — Sto'op'd from ita highest pitch to pcimce a wren As if the poet, purposing to wed. Should carve himself a wife in gingerbread. 555 Ages olaps'd ere Homer's lamp appear 'd. And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard. To carry Nature's lengths unknown before. To give a Milton birth, ask'd ages more. Vol. L 3 26 TABLE TALK. Thus Genius rose and set at order'd times, 660 And shot a day-spring into distant climes, Ennobling ev*ry region that he chose ; He sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose ; And, tedious years of Crothick darkness pass*d, Emerg'd all splendour in our isle at last. 565 Thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, Then show far off their shining plumes again. A. Is genius only found in epick lays ? Prove this, and forfeit all pretence to praise. Make their heroick pow'rs your own at once, 570 Or candidly confess yourself a dunce. B. These were the chief: each interval of night Was grac'd with many an undulating light. In less illustrious bards his beauty shone A meteor or a star ; in these the sun. 59*5 The nightingale may claim the topmost bough, While the poor grasshopper must chirp below. Like him unnotic'd I, and such as I, Spread little wings, and rather skip than fly ', Perch'd on the meagre produce of the land, 580 An ell or two of prospect we command ; But never peep beyond the thorny bound. Or oaken fence that hems the paddock round. In Eden, ere yet innocence of heart Had faded, poetry was not an art : 585 Language above all teaching, or, if taught, Only by gratitude and glowing thought, Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy, unmanacled by form. Not prompted, as in our degen'rate days, 590 By low ambition and the thirst of praise. Was natural as is the flowing stream. And yet magnificent — ^A God the theme ! That theme on Earth eidiausted, though above 'Tis found as everlasting as his love, 595 Man lavish'd all his thoughts on human things— The feals of heroes, and the wrath of Kings ; TABLE TALK. 27 But still, while virtue kindled his delight, The song was moral, and so far was right. Twas thus till Luxury seduc'd the mind 600 To joys less innocent, as It^ss refin'd ; Then Genius danc'd a bacchanal ; he crown'd The brimming goblet, seiz'd the thyrsus, bound His brows with ivy, rush'd into the field Ot wild imagination, and there reel'd, 605 The victim of his own lascivious fires, And, dizzy with delight, profan'd the sacred wires. Anacreon, Horace, play'd in Greece and Rome This bedlam part, and others nearer home. When Cromwell fought for pow'r, and while he reign'd The proud protector of the power he gain'd, 611 Religion harsh, intolerant, austere. Parent of manners like herself severe. Drew a rough copy of the Christian face, Without the smile, the sweetness, or the grace ; 615 The dark and sullen humour of the time Judg'd ev'ry efibrt of the muse a crime ; Verse, in the finest mould of fancy cast, Was lumber in an age so void of taste : But when the second Charles assum'd the sway, 630 And arts reviv'd beneath a softer day. Then like a bow long forc'd into a curve, The mind, releas'd from too constrain'd a nerve, Flew to its first position with a spring. That made the vaulted roofs of Pleasure ring. 625 His court, the dissolute and hateful school Of Wantonness, where vice was taught by rule, Swarm'd with a scribbling herd, as deep inlaid With brutal lust as ever Circe made. From these a long succession, in a rage 630 , Of rank obscenity debauch'd their age : Nor ceas'd till ever anxious to redress The abuses of her sacred charge, the pr'><^s, The muse instructed a well-nurtur'd train Of abler votaries to cleanse the stain, 635 28 TABLE TALK. And claim the palm for purity of song, That Lewdness had usurp 'd and worn so long. Then decent Pleasantry, and sterling Sense, Tliat neither gave nor would endure offence, Whipp'd out of sight, with satire just and keen, 640 The puppy pack, that had defil'd the scene. In front of these came Addison. In him Humour in holiday and sightly trim, Sublimity and attick taste combin'd, To polish, furnish, and delight the mind. 645 Then Pope, as harmony itself exact. In verse well disciplin'd, complete, compact, Gave virtue and morality a grace, That quite eclipsing Pleasure's painted face, Levied a tax of wonder and applause, 650 E'en on the fools that trampled on their laws. But he, (his musical finesse was such. So nice his ear, so delicate his touch,) Made poetry a mere mechanick art j And ev'ry warbler has his tune by heart. 655 Nature imparting her satirick gifl. Her serious mirth, to Arbuthnot and Swift, With droll sobriety they rais'd a smile At Folly's cost, themselves unmov'd the while. That constellation set, the world in vain 660 Must hope to look upon their like again. A. Are we then left — B. Not wholly in the dark ; Wit now and then, struck smar.tly, shows a spark. Sufficient to redeem the modern race From total night and absolute disgrace. 665 While servile trick and imitative knack Confine the million in the beaten track. Perhaps some courser, who disdains the road. Snuffs up the wind, and flings himself abroad. Contemporaries all surpass'd, see one ; 670 Short his career, indeed, but ably run ; Churchill, himself unconscious of his pow'rs, la penury coiiKuin'd his idle hours ; TABLE TALK. 89 And like a scatter'd seed at random sown, Was left to spring by vigour of his own. 67S Lifted at length, by dignity of thought And dint of genius to an affluent lot, He laid his head in Luxury's soft lap, And took, too often, there his easy nap. If brighter beams than all he threw not forth, 680 'Twas negligence in him, not want of worth. Surly, and slovenly, and bold, and coarse, Too proud for art, and trusting in mere force, Spendthrift alike of money and of wit. Always at speed, and never drawing bit, 685 He struck the lyre in such a careless mood. And so disdain'd the rules he understood. The laurel seem'd to wait on his command, He snatch'd it rudely from the muses' hand. Nature, exerting an unwearied pow'r, 690 Forms, opens, and gives scent to ev'ry flower ; Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads. She fills profuse ten thousand little throats With musick, modulating all their notes ; 695 And charms the woodland scenes, and wilds unknown. With artless airs and concerts of her own ; But seldom, (as if fearful of expense,) Vouchsafes to man a poet's just pretence — Fervency, freedom, fluency of thought, 700 Harmony, strength, words exquisitely sought ; Fancy, that from the bow that spans the sky. Brings colours dipp'd in Heav'n, that never die ; A soul exalted above earth, a mind Skill'd in the characters that form mankind ; | 705 And as the sun in rising beauty dress'd, Looks to the westward from the dappled east. And marks whatever clouds may interpose. Ere yet his race begins, its glorious close ; And eye like his to catch the distant goal , >J0 Or, ere the wheels of verse begin ro roll, 3* 30 TABi.E TALK. Lilte his to shed illuminating rays On ev'ry scene and subject it surveyg : Thus grac'd, the man asserts a poet's name, And the world cheerfully admits the claim. 715 Pity Religion has so seldom found A skilful guide into poetick ground ! The flow'rs would spring where'er she deign'd to stray And ev'ry muse attend her in her way. Virtue indeed, meets many a rhyming friend, 720 And many a compliment politely penn'd ', But, unattir'd in that becoming vest Roligion weaves for her. and half undress'd, Stands in the desert, slnvTing and forlorn, A wintry figure, like a wither'd thorn. 725 The shelves are full, all other themes are sped ; Hackney'd and worn to the last flimsy thread, Satire has long since done his best ; and curst And loathsome ribaldry has done his worst j Fancy has sported all her pow'rs away 730 In tales, in trifles, and in children's play ; And 'tis the sad complaint, and almost true, Whate'er we write, we bring forth nothing new. Twere new indeed to see a bard all fire, Touch'd with a coal from Heav'n, assume the lyre, 735 And tell the world, still kindling as he sung. With more than mortal musick on his tongue, That He, who died below, and reigns above, Inspires the song, and that his name is Love. For, after all, if merely to beguile, 740 By flowing numbers, and a flow'ry style. The tedium that the lazy rich endure, Which now and then sweet poetry may cure , Or, if to see the name of idle self, Stamp'd on the well-bound quarto, grace the shelf, 745 To float a bubble on the brsath of Fame, Prompt his endeavour and engage his aim, Debos'dto servile purposes or pride, How ar • the powVs of genius misapplied ! TABLE TALK. 3i The gift whose offiCij i:^ the Giver's praise, 750 To trace him in his word, his works, his ways ? Then spread the rich discov'ry, and invite Mankind to share in the divine delight, Distorted from its use and just design, To make the pitiful possessor shine, TSfr To purchase at the fool-frequented fair Of Vanity, a wreath for self to wear, Is profanation of the basest kind — Proof of a trifling and a worthless mind, 759 A. Hail, Stemhold, then ; and, Hopkins, hail ! — B, If flatt'ry, folly, lust, employ the pen ; [Amen. If acrimony, slander, and abuse. Give it a charge to blacken and traduce ; Though Butler's wit. Pope's numbers, Prior's ease, With all that fancy can invent to please, 765 Adorn the polish'd periods as they fall, One madrigal of theirs is worth them all. A, 'Twould thin the ranks of the poetick tribe, To dash the pen through all that you proscribe. B. No matter — ^we could shift when they were not % And should, no dcubt, if they were all forgota 771 THK PROGRESS OF ERROUR. Si quid loquar audiendum....Iifor. Lib. iv. Od, 2. SING, muse, (if such a Iheme, so dark, so long, May find a muse to grace it with a song,) By what unseen and unsuspected arts. The serpent Errour twines round human hearts ; Tell where she lurks, beneath what flow'ry shadefl, 5 That not a glimpse of genuine light pervades, The pois'nous, black, insinuating worm Successfully conceals her loathsome form. Take, if ye can, ye careless and supine. Counsel and caution from a voice like mine ! 10 Truths, that the theorist could never reach. And observation taught me, I would teach. Not all, whose eloquence the fancy fills, Musical as the chime of tinkling rills, Weak to perform, though mighty to pretend, 15 Can trace her mazy windings to their end ; Discern the fraud beneath the specious lure, Prevent the danger, or prescribe the cure. The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear, Falls soporifick on the listless ear ; 20 Like quicksilver, the rhet'rick they display Shines as it runs, but grasp'd at slips away. Plac'd for his trial on this bustling stage, From thoughtless youth to ruminating age, Free in his will to choose or to refuse, 25 Man may improve the crisis or abuse ; THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR 3-*. Zllso on the fatalist's unrighteous plan, Say to what bar amenable were man ? With nought in charge he could betray ho iivHii J And, if he fell, would fall because he must t 30 If Love reward him, or if Vengeance strike. His recompense is both uiijust alike. Divine authority within his breast -Brings ev'ry thought, word, action, to the test : Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains, 35 As Reason, or as Passion takes the reins. Heav'n from above, and Conscience from within, Cries in his startled ear — Abstain from sin ! The world around solicits his desire, And kindles in his soul a treach'rous fire ; 40 While, all his purposes and steps to guard, Peace follows Virtue as its sure reward ; And Pleasure brings as surely in her traiii Remorse, and Sorrow, and vindictive Pain. Man, thus endu'd with an elective voice, 45 Must be supplied with objects of his choice ; Where'er he turns, enjoyment and delight, Or present, or in prospect, meet his sight ; Those open on the spot their honey'd store : These call him loudly to pursuit of more. * ^ 50 His unexhausted mine the sordid vice Avarice dhows, and virtue is the price. Here various motives his ambition raise — Pow'r, pomp, £Lnd splendour, and the thirst of praise. There Beauty woos him with expanded arms ; S5 E'en Bacchanalian madness has its charms. Nor these alone whose pleasures, less refin'd. Might well alarm the most unguarded mind. Seek to supplant his inexperienc'd youth, Or lead him devious from the path of truth , 60 Hourly allurements on his passions press, Safe in themselves, but dang'rous in th' excess. Hark ! how it floats upon the dewy air * O, what a dying, dying close was there ! 34 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 'Tis harmony from yon sequester'd bow'r, 65 Sweet harmony, that soothes the midnight hour I Long ere the charioteer of day had run His morning course, th' enchantment was begun And he shall gild yon mountain's height again, Ere yet the pleasing toil becomes a pain. 70 Is this the rugged path, the steep ascent, 'That Virtue points to ? Can a life thus spent Lead to the bliss she promises the wise. Detach the soul from earth, and speed her to the skies f Ye devotees to your ador'd employ, 75 Enthusiasts, drunk with an imreal joy. Love makes the musick of the blest above, Heav'n*s harmony is universal love ; And earthly sounds, tho' sweet and well combin'd, And lenient as soft opiates to the mind, 80 Leave Vice and Folly unsubdu'd behind. Gray dawn appears ; the sportsman and his train Speckle the bosom of the distant plain ; *Tis he, the Nimrod of the neighb'ring lairs ; Save that his scent is less acute than theirs, 85 For persevering chase, and headlong leaps, True beagle as the stanchest hound he keeps. Charg-d with the folly of his life's mad scene, He takes offence, and wonders what you mean The joy the danger and the toil o'erpays — 90 *Tis exercise, and health, and length of days. Again impetuous to the field he flies ; Leaps ev'ry fence, but one, there falls and dies ; Like.^^Jain deer, the tumbrel bring&him home, IJnmiss'd but by his dogs and by his groom. 95 Ye clergy, while your orbit is your place, Lights of the world, and stars of human race ; But if eccentrick ye forsake your sphere, Prodigies ominous, and view'd with fear ; The comet's baneful influence is a dream ; 100 Yours real and pernicious in th' extreme. What then ! — are appetites and lusts laid down With the same ease that man puts on his* gown ? OF THE THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 3d Will Av'rico and Concupiscence give place, Charmed by the sounds — ^Your Rtf^'rence, or Your Grace ? 105 No. But his own engagement binds him fast ; Or, if it does not, brands him to the last. What atheists call him — a designing knave, A mere church-juggler, hypocrite, and slave. Oh, laugh, or mourn with me the rueful jest, 110 A cassock'd huntsman, and a fiddling priest • He from Italian songsters takes his cue : Set Paul to musick, he shall quote him too. He takes the field, the master of the pack Cries — Well done, saint ! and claps him on the back. 115 Is this the path of sanctity ? Is this To stand a way-mark in the road to bliss ? Himself a wanderer from the narrow way, His silly sheep what wonder if they stray ? Go, cast your orders at your Bishop's feet, 120 Send your dishonoured gown to Monmouth-street ! The sacred function in your hands is made- Sad sacrilege ! no function, but a trade ! Occiduus is a pastor of renown ; When he has pray'd and preach'd the sabbath down, With wire and catgut he concludes the day, 126 Quav'ring and semiquav'ring care away. The full concerto swells upon your ear ; All elbows shake. Look in, and you would swear The Babylonian tyrant with a nod, 190 Had summoned them to serve his golden god. So well that thought th' employment seems to suit, Psalt'ry and sackbut, dulcimer, and flute. O fie ! 'tis evangelical and pure : Observe each face, how sober and demure 136 Ecstasy sets her stamp on every mien ; Chins fall'n and not an eyeball to be seen. Still I insist, though musick heretofore Has charm'd me much, (not e'n Occiduus more,) Love, joy, and peace, make harmony more meet 140 36 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. For Sabbath ev'nings, and perhaps as sweet. Will not the sickliest ^shLB.Qp,^xx:iXfl?ck Resort to this example as a rock ; There stand, and justify the foul abuse Of sabbath hours with plausible excuse ? 141^ If apostolick gravity be free To play the fool on Sundays, why not we .'' If he the tinkling harpsichord regards As inoffensive, what offence in cards ? Strike up the fiddles, let us all be gay, 15f Laymen have leave to dance, if parsons play. Oh Italy !— Thy sabbaths will be soon Our sabbaths, clos'd with mumm'ry and buffoon. Preaching and pranks will share the motley scene, Ours parcell'd out, as thine have ever been, 155 God's worship and the mountebank between. What says the prophet ? Let that day be blest With holiness and consecrated rest. Pastime and business both it should exclude, And bar the door the moment they intrudo^^ 160 Nobly distinguish' d above all the six By deeds, in which the world must never mix. Hear hini again. He calls it a delight, A day of luxury observ'd aright. When the glad soul is made Heav'ns welcome guest, Sits banqueting, and God provides the feast. 166 Bnt triflers are engag'd and cannot come ; Their answer to the call is — JVot at home. O the dear pleasures of the velvet plain, The painted tablets, dealt and dealt again ! 171) Cards with what rapture, and the polish'd die, The yawning chasm of indolence supply ! Then to the dance, and make the sober moon Witness of joys that shun the sight of noon Blame, cynick, if you can, quadrille or ball, 175 The snug close party, or the splendid hall. Where night, down-stooping from her ebon throi^e Views constellations brighter than her own. THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 37 'Tifl innocent, and harmless, and refin*d, 'The balm of care, Elysium of the mmd. 180 Innocent ! Oh, if venerable Time Slain at the foot of pleasure be no crime, Then, with his silver beard and magick wand. Let Comus rise archbishop of the land ; LfBt him your rubrick and your feasts prescribe, !8S Grand metropolitan of all the tribe. Of manners rough, and coarse athletick cast, The rank debauch suits Clodio's filthy taste. Rusillus, exquisitely form'd by rule, Not of the moral, but the dancing school, 190 Wonders at Clodio's follies, in a tone As tragical, as others at his own. He cannot drink five bottles, bilk the score, Then kill a constable, and drink five more : But he can draw a pattern, make a tart, 195 And has the ladies' etiquette by heart. Go, fool ; and, arm in arm with Clodio, plead Your cause before a bar you little dread : But know, the law, that bids the drunkard die, Is far too just to pass the trifler by. 200 Both baby featur'd, and of infant size, View'd from a distance, and with heedless eye* Folly and Innocence are no alike. The difiPrence, though essential, fails to fltrike> Yet Folly ever has a vacant stare, 205 A simp'rmg count'nance, and a trifling air : But Innocence, sedate, serene, erect, Delights us, by engaging our respect. Man, Nature's guest by invitation sweet. Receives from her both appetite and treat ; 210 But if he play the glutton, and exceed, His benefactress blushes at the deed ', For Nature, nice, as lib'ral to dispense. Made nothing but a brute the slave of sense. Daniel ate pulse by choice- ^example rare ' 215 Heaven bless'd the youth, and made him fresh and fair. Vol. I. 4 38 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. Gorgonius sits, abdominous and wan, Like a fat squab upon a Chinese fan : He snuffs far off the anticipated joy ; Turtle and ven'son all his thoughts employ , 220 Prepares for meals as jockies take a sweat, Oh. nauseous ! — an emetick for a whet ! Will Providence o'erlook the wasted good ? Temperance were no virtue if he could. That pleasures, therefore, or what such we call, 225 Are hurtful, is a truth confess'd by all. And some, that seem'd to threaten virtue leM, Still hurtful in th' abuse, or by the excess. Is man then only for his torment plac'd The centre of delights he may not taste ? 230 Like fabled Tantalus condemn'd to hear The precious stream still purling in his ear, Lip deep in what he longs for, and yet curs'd With prohibition, and perpetual thirst ? No, wrangler, — destitute of shame and sense, 235 The precept, that enjoins him abstinence, Forbids him none but the licentious joy, Whose fruit, though fair, tempts only to destroy. Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid In every bosom where her nest is made, 240 Hatch'd by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast. No pleasure ? Are domestick comforts dead ? Are all the nameless sweets of friendship fled ? 244 Has time worn out, or fashion put to shame, [fame ? fiood sense, good health, good conscience, and good ^Ji these belong to virtue, and all prove, That virtue has a title to your love. Have you no touch of pity, that the poor Stand starv'd at your inhospitable door ? 250 Or if yourself, too scantily supplied, Need help, let honest industry provide. Earn, if you want ; if you abound, impart , These both are pleasures to the feeling heart THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 39 No pleasure ? Has some sickly eastern waste 265 Sent us a wind to parch us at a blast ? Can British Paradise no scenes afford To please her sated and indifferent lord ? Are sweet philosophy's enjoyments run Quite to the lees ? And has religion none ? 260 Brutes capable would tell you 'tis a lie, And judge you from the kennel and the sty. Delights like these, ye sensual and profane, Ye are bid, begg'd, besought to entertain ; Call'd to these crystal streams, do ye turn off 265 Obscene to swill and swallow at a trough ? Envy the beast then, on whom Heav'n bestowa Your pleasures, with no curses in the close. Pleasure admitted in undue degree Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free. 270 Tis not alone the grape's enticing juice, Unnerves the moral powers, and mars their use : Ambition, av'rice, and the lust of fame, And woman, lovely woman, does the same. The heart surrender'd to the ruling power 275 Of some ungovern'd passion every hour, Finds by degrees the truths, that once bore sway, And all their deep impressions, wear away ; So coin grows smooth, in traffick current pass'd, Till CaBsar's image is effac'd at last. 280 The breach, tho' small at first, soon opening wid« , In rushes folly with a fiill-moon tide. Then welcome errours of whatever size, To justify it by a thousand lies. As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone, 385 And hides the ruin that it feeds upon ; So sophistry cleaves close to and protects Sin's rotten trunk, concealing its defects. Mortals, whose pleasures are their only care, First wish to be impos'd on, and then are. 290 And, lest the fulsome artifice should fail, Themselves will hide its coarseness with a veiL 40 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. Not more industrious are the just and true, To give to Virtue what is Virtue's due — The praise of wisdom, comeliness, and worth, " S^ And call her charms to publick notice forth — Than Vice's mean and disingenuous race, To hide the shocking features of her face. Her form with dress and lotion they repair ; Then kiss their idol, and pronounce her fair. 300 The sacred implement I now employ Might prove a mischief, or at best a toy ; A trifle, if it move but to amuse ; But, if to wrong the judgment and abuse, Worse than a poniard in the basest hand, 306 It stabs at once the morals of a land. Ye writers of what none with safety reads ; Footing it in the dance that Fancy leads; Ye novelists, who mar what ye would mend, Sniveling and driv'hng folly without end ; 310 Whose corresponding misses fill the ream With sentimental frippery and dream. Caught in a delicate soft silken net By some lewd earl, or rakehell baronet ; Ye pimps, who under virtue's fair pretence, 315 Steal to the closet of young innocence, And teach her, unexperienc'd yet and green, To scribble as you scribbled at fifteen j Who, kindling a combustion of desire. With some cold moral think to quench the fire , 320 Though all your engineering proves in vain, Th9 dribbling stream ne'er puts it out again. O that a verse had pow'r, and could command Far, far away these flesh-flies of the land j Who fasten without mercy on the fair, 326 And suck, and leave a craving maggot there ! Howe'er disguis'd, th' inflammatory tale. And cover'd with a fine-spun specious veil; Such writers, and such readers, owe the gust And relish of their pleasure all to lust. 330 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 41 But the mus©, eagle pinion'd, has in view A quarry more important still than you ; Down, down the wind she swims, and sails away, Now stoops upon it, and now grasps the prey. Petronius ! all the muses weep for thee ; 335 But ev'ry tear shall scald thy memory ; The graces too, while Virtue at their shrine, Lay bleeding under that soft hand of thine, Felt each a mortal stab in her own breast, Abhorr'd the sacrifice, and curs'd the priest. 340 Thou polish'd and high finish'd foe to truth, Graybeard corrupter of our list'ning youth. To purgre and skim away the filth of vice. That so refin'd it might the more entice. Then pour it on the morals of thy son ; 345 To taint his heart, was worthy of thine own ! Now, while the poison a^ high life pervades, Write, if thou canst, one letter from the shades. One, and one only, charg'd with deep regret, That thy worst part, thy principles, live yet ; 350 One sad epistle thence may cure mankind Of the plague spread by bundles left behind. •Tis granted, and no plainer truth appears, Our most important are our earliest years ; The Mind, impressible and soft, with ease 355 Imbibes and copies what she hears and sees. And through life's labyrinth holds fast the clew, That Education gives her, false or true, Plants rais'd with tenderness are seldom strong ; Man's coltish disposition asks the thong ; 360 And, without discipline, the fav'rite child, Like a neglected forester, runs wild. But we, as if good qualities would grow Spontaneous, take but little pains to sow ; We give some Latin, and a smatch of Greek ; 961 Teach him to fence, and figure twice a week : And having done, we think the best wo can, Praise his proficiency, and dub him oxaa. 42 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. From school to Cam or Isis, and thence home ; And thence with all convenient speed to Rome, 370 With rev'rend tutor clad in habit lay, To tease for cash, and quarrel with all day ; With memorandum book for ev'ry town. And ev'ry post, and where the chaise broke down., ^ His stock, a few French phrases got by heart, 3QV With much to learn, but nothing to impart : The youth, obedient to his sire's commands, Sets off a wanderer into foreign lands. Surpris'd at all they meet, the gosling pair, With awkward gait, stretch'd neck, am silly stare, Discover huge cathedrals built with stone, 381 And steeples tow'ring high much like our own ; But show peculiar light by many a grin At popish practices observ'd within. Ere long some bowing, smirking, smart abb6 385 Remarks two loit'rers, that have lost their way j And being always prim'd with politesse For men of their appearance and address, With much compassion undertakes the task, To tell them more than they have wit to ask ; 390 Points to inscriptions wheresoe'er they tread, Such as, when legible, were never read, But, being canker'd now and half worn out, Craze antiquarian brains with endless doubt ; Some headless hero, or some Caesar shows — 395 Defective only in his Roman nose ; Exhibits elevations, drawings, plans. Models of Herculanean pots and pans ; And sells them medals, which, if neither rare > Nor ancient, will be so, preserv'd with care. 400 Strange the recital ! from whatever cause His great improvement and new light he draws, The squire, once bashful, is shamefac'd no more, But teems with pow'rs he never felt before : Whether incrcas'd momentum, and th« force 405 With which from clime to clime he sped his course, J THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 43 As axles sometimes kindle as they go,) Chaf 'd him, and brought dull nature to a glow ; Or whether clearer skies and softer air, Tliat make Italian flow'rs so sweet and fair, 410 Fresh'ning his lazy spirits as he ran, Unfolded genially and spread the man : Returning he proclaims by many a grace. By shrugs and strange contortionsof his face, How much a dunce, that has been sent to roam, 415 Excels a dunce, that has been kept at home. Accomplishments have taken virtue's place. And wisdom falls before exteriour grace : Wg slight the precious kernel of the stone. And toil to polish its rough coat alone. 420 A just deportment, manners grac'd with ease. Elegant phrase, and figure form'd to please. Are qualities that seem to comprehend Whatever parents, guardians, schools, intend ; Hence an unfurnish'd and a listless mind, 425 Though busy, trifling ; empty, though refin'd ; Hence all that interferes, and dares to clash With indolence and luxury, is trash : While learning, once the man's exclusive pride, Seems verging fast towards the female side. 430 Learning itself, receiv'd into a mind By nature weak, or viciously inclin'd. Serves but to lead philosophers astray, Where children would with ease discern the way. And of all arts sagacious dupes invent, 435 To cheat themselves and gain the world's assent, The worst is — Scripture warp'd from its intent The carriage bowls along, and all are pleas'd If Tom be sober, and the wheels well greas'd ; But if the rogue have gone a cup too far, 440 Left out his linchpin or forgot his tar. It suffers interruption and delay. And meets with hind'rance in the Bmoothest way When some hypothesis absurd and vain 44 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. Has fill'd with all its fumes a critick's brain, 445 The text, that sorts not with liis darling whim, Though plain to others, is obscure to him. The will made subject to a lawless force. All is irregular and out of course ; And judgment drunk, and brib'd to lose his way, 450 Winks hard, and talks of darkness at noonday. A critick on the sacred book should bo Candid and learn'd, dispassionate and freo ; Free from the wayward bias bigots feel. From fancy's influence, and intemperate zeal ; 455 But above all, (or let the wretch refrain, Nor touch the page he cannot but profane,) Free from the domineering power of lust ; A lewd interpreter is never just. How shall I speak thee, or thy power address, 460 Thou god of our idolatry, the press ? By thee, reUgion, liberty, and laws. Exert their influence, and advance their cause ; By thee worse plagues than Pharaoh's land befell, Diffus'd, make earth the vestibule of Hell ; 465 Thou fountain, at which drink the good and wise j Thou ever-bubbling spring of endless lies ; Like Eden's dread probationary tree, Knowledge of good and evil is from thee. No wild enthusiast ever yet could rest, 470 Till half mankind were like himself possess'd. Philosophers, who darken and put out Eternal truth by everlasting doubt ; Cliurch quacks, with passions under no command. Who fill the world with doctrines contraband, 475 Discov'rers of they know not what, confin'd Within no bounds — the blind that lead the blind ; To streams of popular opinion drawn. Deposit in those shallows all their spawn. The wriggling fry soon fill the creeks around, 480 Pois'ning the v/aters where their swarms abound Scorn'd by the nobler tenants of the flood, THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 45 Minnows and gudgeons gorge the unwholesome food. The propagated myriads spread so fast, E'en Lewenhoeck himself would stand aghast, 485 Employ *d to calculate th* enormous sum. And own his crab-computing powers o'ercomd. Is this hyperbole ? The world well known, Your sober thoughts will hardly find it one. Fresh confidence the speculatist takes « 490 From every hair-brain'd proselyte he makes : And therefore prints. Himself but half deceiv'd, Till others have the soothing tale belie v*d. Hence comment after comment, spun as fine As^lggi,ted spiders draw the flimsy line. 495 Hence the same word, that bids our lusts obey, Is misapplied to sanctify their sway. If stubborn Greek refuse to be his friend, Hebrew or Syriack shall be forc'd to bend. _ If languages and copies all cry. No — 500 Somebody prov'd it centuries ago. Like trout pursued, the eritick in despair Darts to the mud, and finds his safety there. Women, whom custom has forbid to fly The scholar's pitch, (the scholar best knows why,) 505 With all the simple and unletter'd poor, Admire his learning, and almost adore. Whoever errs, the priest can ne'er be wrong, With such fine words familiar to his tongue. Ye ladies ! (for indifi*'rent in your cause, 510 I should deserve to forfeit all applause,) Whatever shocks or gives the least ofience To virtue, delicacy, truth, or sense (Try the criterion, 'tis a faithful guide,) Nor has, nor can have. Scripture on its side. 515 Nono but an author knows an author's cares, Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears. Committed once into the publick arms. The baby seems to smile with added charms. Like something precious ventur'd far from shoro, 590 46 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 'Tis valued for the danger's sake the more. He views it with complacency supremo, Solicits kind attention to his dream ; And daily more enamour'd of the cheat Kneels, and asks Heav'n to bless the dear deceit. 525 So one, whose story serves at least to show Men lov'd their own productions long ago, Woo'd an unfeeling statue for his wife. Nor rested till the gods had giv'n it life. If some mere driv'Uer suck the sugar'd fib, 530 One that still needs his leading string and bib, And praise his genius, he is soon repaid In praise applied to the same part — his head • For 'tis a rule, that holds for ever true, Grant me discernment, and I grant it you. 535 Patient of contradiction as a child, Affable, humble, diffident, and mild ; Such was Sir Isaac, and such Boyle and Locke : Your blund'rer is as sturdy as a rock The creature is so sure to kick and bite, 540 A muleteer's the man to set him right. First Appetite enlists him Truth's sworn foe, Then obstinate Self-will confirms him so. Tell him he wanders ; that his errour leads To fatal ills ; that, tho' the path he treads 545 Be flow'ry, and he see no cause of fear. Death and the pains of Hell attend !iim there ; In vain : the slave of arrogance and pride, He has no hearing on the prudent side. His still-refuted quirks he still repeats ; 650 New-rais'd objections with nev/ quibbles meets ; Till, sinking in the quicksand he defends, He dies disputing, and the contest ends — But not the mischiefs ; they, still left behind, Like thistle seeds, are sown by every wind. 555 Thus men go wrong with an ingenious skill ; Bend the straight rule to their own crooked will ; And with a clear and shining lamp supphed. THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 47 First put it out, then take it for a guide. Halting on crutches of unequal size, 560 One leg by truth supported, one by lies ; They sidle to the goal with awkward pacoi Secure of nothing — ^but to lose the race. Faults in the life breed errours in the brain^ And these reciprocally those again. 565 The mind and conduct mutually imprint And stamp theit imago in each other*s mint ; Each sire, and dam, of an infernal race, Begetting and conceiving all that's base. None sends his arrow to the mark in view, 670 Whose hand is feeble, or his aim untrue. For tho', ere yet the shaft is on the wing, Or when it first forsakes th' elastick string. It err but little from th' intended line. It falls at last far wide of his design ; 575 So he, who seeks a mansion in the sky. Must watch his purpose with a steadfast eye . That prize belongs to none but the sincere, The least obliquity is fatal here. With caution taste the sweet Circean cup : 580 He that sips often at last drinks it up. Habits are soon assum'd ; but when we strive To strip them off, 'tis being flay'd alive. Call'd to the temple of impure delight, Ho that abstains, and he alone, does right. 585 If a wish wander that way, call it home ; ^ ' He cannot long be safe whose wishes roam.'''^^3 r"»H4 But, if you pass the threshold, you are caught ; Die then, if pow'r Almighty save you not. There hard'iiing by degrees, till double steel'd, 590 Take leave of Nature's God, and God reveal'd; Then laugh at all you trembled at before ; And, joining the free thinkers' brutal roar, Swallow the two grand nostrums they dispense- That Scripture lies, and blasphemy is sense. 595 48 THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. If clemency revolted by abuse Be damnable, then danm'd without excuse. Some dream that they can silence when they will, The storm of passion, and say, " Peace^ he still ;'* But, " Thus far and no farther " when address'd 600 To the wild wave, or wilder human breast, Implies authority th?Lt never can, That never ought to be the lot of man. But, muse, forbear ; long flights forebode a fall ; Strike on the deep-ton'd chord the sum of all. 605 Hear the just law — the judgment of the skies ! He that hates truth shall be the diipe of lies : And he that will be cheated to the last, Delusions strong as Hell shall bind him fast. But if the wand'rer his mistake discern, 610 Judge his own ways and sigh for a return, Be wilder 'd once, must he bewail his loss Tor ever and for ever ? No — the cross ! There, and there only, (though the deist rave, And atheist, if earth bear so base a slave ;) " 615 There, and there only, is the power to save. There no delusive hope invites despair ; No mock'ry meets you, no deception there. The spells and charms, that blinded you before, All vanish there, and fascinate no more. 620 I am no preacher, let this hint suffice — The cross once seen is death to ev'ry Vice ; Else he that hung there, suffer'd all his pain, Bled, groaned, and agoniz'd, and died in vain. TRUTH. Pensantur triutin^— -Hor. Lib. II. Epist. I MAN, on the dubious waves of errour toss'd, His ship half founder'd, and his compass lost, Sees far as human opticks may command, A sleeping fog, and fancies it dry land ! Spreads all his canvass, ev'ry sinew plies j 5 Pants fbr't, aims at it, enters it, and dies ' Then farewell all self-satisfying schemes, His well-buire'systems, philosophick dreams Deceitful views of future bliss, farewell ! He reads his sentence at the flames of Hell. 10 Hard lot of man — to toil for the revard Of virtue, and yet lose it ! Wherefore hard ? — He that would win the race must guide his horse Obedient to the customs of the course ; Else, tho' unequall'd to the goal he flies, 15 A meaner than himself shall gain the prize. Grace leads the right way ; if you choose the wrong, Take it and perish ; but restrain your tongue ; Charge not with light sufficient, and left free, Your wilful suicide on God's decree. 20 Oh how unlike the complex works of man, HeavVs easy, artless, unencumber'd plan ! No meretricious graces to beguile. No clustering ornaments to clog the pile ; From ostentation as from weakness free, 25 It stands like the cerulean arch we see, Majestick in its own sirnphcity. Vol. I. 5 50 TRUTH. Inscrib'd above the portal, from afar Conspicuous as the brightness of a star, Legible only by the light tliey give, 30 Stand the soul-quick'ning words — believe and live. Too many, shock'd at what should charm them most, Despise the plain direction, and are lost. Heav'n on such terms ! (they cry with proud disdain,) Incredible, impossible, and vain ! — 35 Rebel, because 'tis easy to obey : And scorn, for its own sake, the gracious way. These are the sober, in whose cooler brains Some thought of immortality remains; The rest too busy or too gay to wait 40 On the sad theme, their everlasting state, Sport for a day, and perish in a night, The foam upon the waters not so light. Who judg'd the pharisee ? What odious cause Exposed him to the vengeance of the laws ? 4t Had he seduc'd a virgin, wrong 'd a friend, Or stabb'd a man to serve some private end ? Was blasphemy his sin ? Or did he stray From the strict duties of the sacred day ? Sit long and late at the carousing board ? ^ (Such were the sins with which he charged his Lord.) No — the man's morals were exact, what then ? 'Twas his ambition to be seen of men ; His virtues were his pride ; and that one vice Made all his virtues gewgaws of no price j 5i» He wore them as fine trappings for a show, A praying, synagogue-frequenting beau. The self-applauding bird, the peacock, see Mark what a sumptuous pharisee is he ! Meridian sunbeams tempt him to unfold (^ His radiant glories, azure, green, and gold ; He treads as if some solemn musick near, His measur'd step were govern'd by his ear j And seems to say — ^Ye meaner fowl, give place, I am all splendour, dignity, and grace ! 65 TRUTH. 61 Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes, Though he too has a glory in his plumes, He, christian-like, retreats with modest mion To the close copse, or far sequester'd green, \ And shines without desiring to be seen. j 70 The plea of works, as arrogant and vain, I Heav'n turns from with abhorrence and disdain ; • Not more affronted by avow'd neglect. Than by the mere dissembler's feign'd respect. What is all righteousness that men devise ? 75 What — ^but a sordid bargain for the skies ? But Christ as soon would abdicate his own. As stoop from Heav'n to sell the proud a throne- His dwelling a recess in some rude rock, Book, beads, and maple dish, liis meagre stock . 80 In shirt of hair and weeds of canvass dress'd, Girt with a bell rope that the pope has bless'd ; Adust with stripes told out for ev'ry crime, And sore tormented long before his time ; His pray'r preferr'd to saints that cannot aid ; 85 His praise postpon'd, and never to be paid ', See the sage hermit, by mankind admir'd, With all that bigotry adopts inspir'd. Wearing out life in his religious whim, Till his religious whimsy wears out him. 90 His works, his abstinence, his zeal allow'd, You think him humble — God accounts him proud ; High in demand, though lowly in pretence, Of all his conduct this the genuine sense — My penitential stripes, my streaming blood, 95 Have purchas'd Heav'n, and prov'd my title good. Turn eastward now, and Fancy shall apply To your weak sight her telescopick eye. The bramin kindles on his own bare head The sacred fire, self- torturing his trade ; 100 His voluntary pains, severe and long. Would give a barb'rous air to British song ; No grand inquisitor oould worse invent, 52 TRUTS ' Than h© cohtrivcis to suiFer, well content. Which is the saintlier worthy of the two ? 105 Past all dispute, yon anchorite, say you. Your sentence and mine differ. What s a name ^ 1 say the bramin has the fairer claim. If suff 'rings. Scripture no where recommends, Devi /d by self to answer selfish ends, 110 Give saintship, then all Europe must agree Ten starving hermits suffer less than he. The truth, is, (if the truth may suit your eat And prejudice have left a passage clear,) Pride has attain'd its most luxuriant growth, 115 And poison 'd ev'ry virtue in them both. Pride may be pamper'd while the flesh grows lean ; Humility may clothe an English dean ; That grace was Cowper's — his, confess'd by all — Though plac'd in golden Durham's second stall. 120 Not all the plenty of a bishop's board, His palace, and his lacqueys, and " My lord," More nourish pride, that condescending vice, Than abstinence, and beggary, and lice ; It thrives in mis'ry, and abundant grows ; 125 In mis'ry fools upon themselves impose. But why before us protestants produce An Indian mystick, or a French recluse ? Their sin is plain ; but what have we to fear, Reform'd and well instructed ? You shall hear. 130 Yon ancient prude, whose wither 'd features show She might be young some forty years ago, Her elbows pinion'd close upon her liips. Her head erect, her fan upon her lips. Her eye-brows arch*d, her eyes both gone astray 135 To watch yon am'rous couple in their play, With bony and unkerchierd neck defies The rude inclemency of wintry skies, And sails with lappet head and mincing airs. Duly at clink of bell to morning pray'rs. 140 To thrift and parsimony much inclin'd, TRUTH. 53 She yet allows herself that boy behind ; The shiv'ring urchin, bending as he goes, With slipshod heels, and dewdrop at his nose ; His predecessor's coat advanced to wear, 145 Which future pages yet are doom'd to share, Carries her Bible tuck'd beneath his arm, And hides his hands to keep his fingers warm. She half an angel in her own account, Doubts not hereafter with the saints to mount. 150 Though not a grace appears on strictest search, But that she fasts, and, eiem, goes to church. Conscious of age she recollects her youth. And tells, not always, with an eye to truth. Who spann'd her waist, and who, where'er he caire, Scrawl'd upon glass Miss Bridget's lovely name ; 156 Who stole her slipper, fill'd it with tokay, And drank the little bumper ev'ry day. Of temper as envenom'd as an asp, Censorious, and her ev'ry word a wasp ; 160 In faithful mem'ry she records the crimes, Or real or fictitious of the times ; Laughs at the reputations she has torn, And holds them dangling at arm's length in scora. Such are the fruits of sanctimonious pride, 165 Of malice fed while flesh is mortified : ^ Take, Madam, the reward of all your pray*rs, Where hermits and where bramins meet with theurs , Your portion is with them. — Nay, never frown, But if you please, some fathoms lower down. 170 Artist, attend — ^your brushes and your paint — Produce them — take a chair — ^now draw a saint. Oh sorrowful and sad ! the streaming tears Channel her cheeks — a Niobe appears ! Is this a saint f Throw tints and all away — 175 True Piety is cheerful as the day. Will weep indeed and heave a pitying groan For others' woes, but smiles upon her own. What purpose has the King of saints in view ? 5* 64 TRUTH. Why falls the Gospel like a gracious dew ? 180 To call up plenty from the teeming earth, Or curse the desert with a tenfold dearth ? Is it that Adam's offspring may be sav'd From servile fear, or be the more enslav'd ? To loose the links that gall'd mankind before, 185 Or bind them faster on, and add still more ? The freeborn Christian has no chains to prove, Or, if a chain, the golden one of love ; No fear attends to quench liis glowing fires, Wliat fear he feels his gratitude inspires. 190 Shall he for such deliv'rance freely wrought, Recompense ill ? He trembles at the thought. His master's interest and his own combin'd, Prompt ev'ry movement of his heart and mind ; Thought, word, and deed, his liberty evince, 195 His freedom is the freedom of a prince. Man's obligations infinite, of course His life should prove that he perceives their force ; His utmost he can render is but small — The principle and motive all in all. 206 You have two servants — Tom, an arch, sly rogue, From top to toe the Geta now in vogue, Genteel in figure, easy in address, Moves without noise, and swift as an express. Reports a niessage with a pleasing grace, 205 Expert in all the duties of his place ; Say, on what hinge does his obedience move ^ Has he a world of gratitude and love ? No, not a spark — 'tis all mere sharper's piay He likes your house, your housemaid, and your pay ; Reduce his wages, or get rid of her, 211 Tom quits you, with — ^Your most obedient. Sir. The dinner serv'd, Charles takes his usual stand, Watches your eye, anticipates command ; Sighs, if perhaps your appetite should fail , 215 And, if he but suspects a frown, turns pale ; Consults all day your int'rest and your ease, TRUTH. tt Richly rewarded if he can but please ; And, proud to make his firm attachment known, To save your life, would nobly risk his own. 220 Now which stands highest in your serious thought ? Charles, without doubt, say you — and so he ought ; One act^ that from a thankful heart proceeds, Excels ten thousand mercenary deeds. Thus Heav'n approves as honest and sincere, 225 The work of generous love, and filial fear ; But with averted eyes th' omniscient Judg6 Scorns the base hireling, and the slavish drudge. Where dwell these matchless saints ? — old Curio cries : Ev'n at your side, Sir, and before your eyes, 230 The favour 'd few — th' enthusiasts you despise. And pleas'd at heart, because on holy ground Sometimes a canting hypocrite is found, Reproach a people with a single fall. And cast his filthy garment at them all. 235 Attend ! — an apt similitude shall show "Whence springs the conduct that offends you so. See where it smokes along the sounding pl^un, Blown all aslant, a driving, dashing rain, Peal upon peal redoubling all around, 240 Shakes it again and faster to the ground : Now flashing wide, now glancing as in play. Swift beyond thought the lightnings dart away. Ere yet it came the trav'Uer urg'd his steed. And hurried, but with unsuccessfiil speed ; 245 Now drench'd throughout, and hopeless of his case. He drops the rein, and leaves him to his pace. Suppose, unlook*d for in a scene so rude. Long hid by interposing hill or wood, Some mansion, neat and elegantly dress'd, 250 By some kind hospitable heart possess'd, Offer him warmth, security, and rest ; Think with what pleasure, safe, and at his ease He hears the tempest howling in the trees ; What glowing thanks his lips and heart employ 255 66 TRUTH. Wliile danger past is turn'd to present joy. So fares it with the sinner, when he feels A growing dread of vengeance at his heels; .^ His conscience, like a glassy lalte before, i Lash'd into foaming v/aves begins to roar ; 260 I The law grown clamorous, though silent long. Arraigns him, — charges him with ev'ry wrong- Asserts the rights of his offended Lord, And death or restitution is the word ; The last impossible — he fears the first, 265 And, having well deserv'd, expects the worst. Then welcome refuge, and a peaceful home ; Oh for a shelter from the wrath to come ! { Crush me, ye rocks; ye falling mountains, hide I Or bury me in ocean's angry tide — 270 I The scrutiny of those all-seeing eyes I dare not — And you need not, God replies : The remedy you want I freely give ; Tiie book shall teach you — read, beheve, and live. 'Tis done — the raging storm is heard no more, 275 Mercy receives him on her peaceful shore ; And justice, guardian of the dread command, Drops the red vengeance from his willing hand. A soul redeem'd demands a life of praise ; Hence the complexion of his future days, 280 Hence a demeanour holy and unspeck'd, And the world's hatred, as its sure effect. Some lead a life unblamable and just, Their own dear virtue their unshaken trust : They never sin — or if, (as all offend,) 285 Some trivial slips their daily walk attend. The poor are near at hand, the charge is small, A slight gratuity atones for all. For though the pope has lost his int'rest here, And pardons are not sold as once they were, 290 No papist more desirous to compoimd, Than some grave siimers upon English ground, That plea refuted, other quirks they seek — TRUTS. 57 Mercy is infinite, and man is weak ; The future shall obliterate the past, 295 And Heav'n no doubt shall be their home at last. Come then — a still small whisper in your ear — He has no hope who never had a fear ; And he that never doubted of his state. He may perpaps — ^perhaps he may — too late. 300 The path to bliss abounds with many a snare ; Learning is one, and wit, however rare. The Frenchman, first in literary fame, (Mention him if you please. Voltaire ?-^l!h.e same,) With spirit, genius, eloquence, supplied, 305 Liv'd long, wrote much, laugh'd heartily, and died ; The Scripture was his jest book, whence he drew Bon mots to gall the Christian and the Jew ; An infidel in health, but what when sick ? Oh — ^then a text would touch him at the quick : 310 View him at Paris in his last career. Surrounding throngs the demigod revere, Exalted on his pedestal of pride. And fiim'd with frankincense on ev'ry side. He begs their flattery with his latest breath, 315 And sraother'd in't at last, is prais'd to death. Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door, Pillow and bobbins all her little store ; Content, though mean, and cheerful if not gay Shuffling her threads about the livelong day, 330 Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light ; She, for her humble sphere by nat le fit, Has little understanding, and no wit. Receives no praise ; but though hor lot be such, 325 (Toilsome and indigent,) she renders much : Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true — A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew ; And in that charter reads with sparkling eyes Her title to a treasure in the skies. 330 O happy peasant ! Oh unhappy bard ! 58 TRUTH. His the mere tinsel, hers the rich reward ; He prais'd perhaps for ages yet to come, She never heard of half a mile from homo : He, lost in errours, his vain heart prefers, 335 She, safe in the simplicity of hers. Not many wise, rich, noble, or profound In science, win one inch of heavenly ground. And is it not a mortifying thought Tiie poor should gain it, and the rich should rot. 340 No, — the voluptuaries, who ne'er forget One pleasure lost, lose Heav'n without regret ; Regret would rouse them, and give birth to pray'r, Pray'r would add faith, and faith would fix them there. Not that the Former of us all, in this, 345 Or ought he does, is govern'd by caprice ; The supposition is replete with sin, And bears the brand of blasphemy burn'd in. Not so — the silver trumpet's heav'nly call Sounds for the poor, but sounds alike for all : 350 Kings are invited, and would kings obey, No slaves on earth more welcome were than they ; But royalty, nobility, and state, Are such a dead preponderating weight, That endless bliss, (how strange soe'er it seem,) 355 In counterpoise, flies up and kicks the beam. 'Tis open, and ye cannot enter, — why ? Because ye will not, Conyers would reply — And he says much that many may dispute And cavil at with ease, but none refute. 360 O bless'd effbct of penury and want, The seed sown there, how vig'rous is the plant ! No soil like poverty for growth divine. As leanest land supplies the richest wine. Earth gives too little, giving only bread, "365 To nourish pride, or turn the weakest head : To them the sounding jargon of the schools Seems what it is — a cap and bells for fools : The light they walk by, kindled from above, TRUTH. 59 Shows them llie slvartest way to life and love ; 370 They, strangers to the controversial field, Where deists, always foil'd, yet scorn to yield, And never check'd by what impedes the wise, Believe, rush forward, and possess the prize. Envy, yo great, the dull unletter'd small : 375 Ye have much cause for envy — ^but not all. We boast some rich ones whom the Gospel sways, And one who wears a coronet, and prays ', Like gleanings of an olive tree they show Here and there one upon the topmost bough. 380 How readily upon the Gospel plan, That question has its answer — What is man ? Sinful' and weak, in ev'ry sense a wretch ; An instrument, whose chords, upon the stretch. And strain'd to the last screw that he can bear, 385 Yield only discord in his Maker's ear : Once the bless'd residence of truth divine, Glorious as Solyma's interiour shrine, "Where, in his own oracular abode. Dwelt visibly the light-creating God : 390 But made long since like Babylon of old, A den of mischiefs never to be told ; And she, once mistress of the realms around. Now scattered wide, and no where to be found, As soon shall rise and reascend the throne, 395 By native pow'r and energy her own, As Nature at her own peculiar cost, Restore to man the glories he has lost. Go — ^bid the winter cease to chill the year, Replace the wand'ring comet in his sphere, 400 Then boast, (but wait for that unhop'd-for hour,) The self-restoring arm of human pow'r. But what is man in his own proud esteem ? Hear him — himself the poet and the theme : A monarch cloth'd with majesty and awe, 405 His Mind, his kingdom, and his will, his law * ' Grace in his mien, and glory in his eyes, 60 TRUTH. Supreme on earth, and worthy of the skies. Strength in his heart, dominion in his nod, And thunderbolts excepted, quite a god ! 4 -0 So sings he, charm'd with his own mind and form, The song magnificent — the them^ a worm ! Himself so much the source of his delight, His Maker has no beauty in his sight. See where he sits, contemplative and fix'd, 415 Pleasure and wonder in his features mix'd ; His passions tam'd, and all at his control, How perfect the composure of his soul I Complacency has breath'd a gentle gale O'er all his thoughts, and swell'd his easy sail : 420 His books well trimm'd and in the gayest style Like regimented coxcombs rank and file, Adorn his intellects as well as shelves, And teach him notions splendid as themselves : The Bible only stands neglected there, 425 Though that of all most worthy of his care ; And like an infant, troublesome awake, Is left to sleep for peace and quiet sake. What shall the man deserve of human kind, Whose happy skill and industry combined 430 Shall prove, (what argument could never yet,) The Bible an imposture and a cheat ? The praises of the libertine profess'd. The worst of men, and curses of the best. Where should the living, weeping o'er his woes ; 435 The dying, trembling at the awful close ; Where the betray'd, forsaken, and oppressed, The thousands whom the world forbids to rest. Where snoiild they find, (those comforts at an end The Scripture yields,) or hope to find a friend ? 440 Sorrow might muse herself to madness then, And seeking exile ^ from the signtof men, Bury herself in solitude profound, Grov/^frantick with her pangs, and bite the ground. Thus often Unbelief, grown sick of life, 445 TRUTH. 61 Flies to the tempting pool, or felon knife. The jury meet, the coroner is short, And lunacy the verdict of the court j Reverse the sentence, let the truth be known, Such lunacy is ignorance alone ; 450 They knew not, what some bishops may not know» That Scripture is the only cure of wo ; That field of prpmise, how it flings abroad Its odour o'er the Christian's thorny rpad! The sou, reposing on assur'd relief, 455 Feels herself happy amidst all her grief. Forgets her labour as she toils along, Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song. But the same word, that, like the polish'd share, Ploughs up the roots of a behever's care, 460 Kills, too, the flow*ry weeds, where'er they grow. That bind the sinner's BacchanaUan brow. Oh that unwelcome voice of heavenly love, Sad messenger of mercy from above ! How does it grate upon his thankless ear, 465 Crippling his pleasures with the cramp of fear ! His will and judgment at continual strife. That civil war imbitters all his life : In vain he points his pow'rs against the skies. In vain he closes or averts his eyes, 470 Truth will intrude — she bids him yet beware ; And shakes the sceptick in the scomer's chair. Though various foes against the truth combine. Pride above all opposes her design *, Pride, of a growth superiour to the rest, 475 The subtlest serpent with the loftiest crest. Swells at the thought, and, kindling into rage, Would hiss the cherub Mercy from the stage. And is the soul indeed so lost ? — she cries, Fall'n from her glory, and too weak to rise ? 480 Torpid and dull beneath a frozen zone. Has she no spark that may be deem'd her own ? Grant her indebted to what zealots call Vol. I. 6 62 TRUTH. Grace undeserv'd, yet surely not for all — Some beams of rectitude she yet displays, 485 Some love of virtue, and some pow'r to praise; Can lift herself above corporeal things. And, soaring on her own unborrow'd wings, Possess herself of all that's good or true, Assert the skies, and vindicate her due. 490 Past indiscretion is a venial crime. And if the youth, unmellow'd yet by time, Bore on his branch, luxuriant then and rude, Fruits of a blighted size, austere and crude, Maturer years shall happier stores produce, 495 And meliorate the well-concocted juice. Then, conscious of her meritorious zeal. To Justice she may make her bold appeal, And leave to Mercy, with a tranquil mind. The worthless and unfruitful of mankind. 500 Hear, then, how Mercy, slighted and defied. Retorts the affront against the crown of Pride. Perish the virtue as it ought, abhorr'd. And the fool with it who insults his Lord. The atonement a Redeemer's love has wrought, 505 Is not for you — the righteous need it not Seest thou yon harlot wooing all she meets. The worn-out nuisance of the publick streets. Herself from morn to night, from night to morn. Her own abhorrence, and as much your scorn ! 510 The gracious show'r, unlimited and free. Shall fall on her, when Heav n denies it thee. Of all that wisdom dictates, this the drift. That man is dead in sin, and life a gift. Is virtue, then, unless of Christian growth, 515 Mere fallacy, or foolishness, or both .'* Ten thousand sages lost in endless wo. For ignorance of what they could not know ? That speech betrays at once a bigot's tongue — Charge not a God with such outrageous wrong. 520 Truly not I — the oartial light men have. TRUTH. eS My creed persuades me, well-employ 'd, may save ; While he th^f^ scorns the noonday beam, perverse, Shall find the blessing unimprov'd, a curse. Let heathen worthies, whose exalted mind 525 Left sensuality and dross behind. Possess for me their undisputed lot, And take, unenvied, the reward they sought. But still in virtue of a Saviour's plea, Not blind by choice, but destin'd not to see. 530 Their fortitude and wisdom were a flame Celestial, though they knew not whence it came, Deriv'd from the same source of light and grace, That guides the Christian in his swifter race ; Their judge was conscience, and her rule their law ; That rule, pursued with reverence and with awe, 536 Led them however falt'ring, faint, and slow, From what they knew, to what they wish'd to kiujw. But let not him, that shares a brighter day, | Traduce the splendour of a noontide ray, ! 540 Prefer the twilight of a darker time , ^ And deem his base stupidity no crime ; The wretch, who slights the bounties of the skies, And sinks, while favour'd with the means to rise. Shall find them rated at their full amount, 545 The good he scorn'd all carried to account. Marshalling all his terrours as he came, Thunder, and earthquake, and devouring flame. From Sinai's top Jehovah gave the law, Life for obedience, death for ev'ry flaw. 650 When the great sov'ieign would his will express, He gives a perfect rule , what can he less ? And guards it with a sanction as severe As vengeance can inflict, or sinners fear ; Else his own glorious rights he would disclaim, 55& And man might safely trifle with his name. He bids him glow with unremitting love To all on earth, and to himself above ; Condemns th' injurious deed, the sland'rous tongue, 64 TRUTH. The thought that meditates a brother's wr6% : 560 Brings not alone the more conspicuous part, His conduct, to the test, but tries his heart. Hark ! universal nature shook and groan'd, *Twas the last trumpet— see the Judge enthron'd I Rouse all your courage at your utmost need, 565 Now summon ev'ry virtue^stand and plead. What ! silent ? is your boasting heard no more ? That self-renouncing wisdom learn'd before, Had shed immortal glories on your brow. That all your virtues cannot purchase now. 670 All joy to the believer ! He can speak— Trembling, yet happy ; confident, yet meek. Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot, And cut up all my follies by the root, I never trusted in an arm but thine, 575 Nor hopM, but in thy righteousness divine : My pray'rs and alms, imperfect and defil'd, Were but the feeble efforts of a child ; Howe'er perform'd, it was their brightest part That they proceeded from a grateful heart ; 580 Cleans'd in thine own all-purifying blood, Forgive their evil, and accept their good ; I cast them at thy feet — my only plea Is what it was, dependence upon thee ; While struggling in the vale of tears below, 585 That never fail'd, nor shall it fail me now. Angelick gratulations rend the skies, Pride falls unpitied, never more to rise. Humility is crowned, and Faith receives the prize. EXPOSTULATION. Tantane, tarn patiens^ nulla certamine tolli Dona sines ? ViRO, WHY weeps the muse for England ? What appears In England's case, to move the muse to tears ? From side to side of her delightful isle Is she not cloth'd with a perpetual smile ? Can Nature add a charm, or Art confer 5 A new-found luxury not seen in her ? Where under Heav'n is pleasure more pursued, Or where does cold reflection less intrude ? Her fields a rich expanse of wavy corn, Pour'd out from Plenty's overflowing horn ; 10 Ambrosial gardens, in which art supplies The fervour and the force of Indian skies ; Her peaceful shores, where busy Commerce waits To pour his golden tide through all her gates ; Whom fiery suns, that scorch the russet spice 15 Of eastern groves, and oceans floor'd with ice, Forbid in vain to push his daring way To darker climes, or climes of brighter day ; Whom the winds waft where'er the billows roll. From the world's girdle to the frozen polo ; **^U T]>e chariots bounding in her wheel-worn streets, Her vaults below, where ev'ry vintage meets; Her theatres, her revels, and her sports ; The ^enes to which not youth alone resorts. 6* 6G EXPOSTULATION. But age, in spite of weakness and of pain, 25 Still haunts, in hope to dream of youth again ; All speak her happy : let the muse look round From east to west, no sorrow can be fomid ; Or only what, in cottages confin'd. Sighs unregarded to the passing wind. 30 Then wherefore weep for England ? What appears In England's case, to move the muse to tears f The prophet wept for Israel : wish'd his eyes Were fountains fed with infinite supplies : For Israel dwelt in robbery and wrong ; 35 There were the scorner's and the sland'rer's tongue ; Oaths, used as playthings or convenient tools, As interest bias'd knaves, or fashion fools j Adult'ry, neighing at his neighbour's door ; Oppression, lab'ring hard to grind the poor : 40 The partial balance, and deceitful weight ; The treach'rous smile, a mask for secret hate ; Hypocrisy, formalit/ in pray'r. And the dull service of the lip were there. Her women, insolent and self-caress'd, 45 By Vanity's unwearied finger dress'd, Forgot the blush, that virgin fears impart To modest cheeks, and borrowed one from art . Were just such trifles, without worth or use, As silly pride and idleness produce : 50 Curl'd, scented, furbelow'd, and flounced around^ With feet too delicate to touch the ground. They stretch 'd the neck, and roU'd the wanton ey«, And sigh'd for every fool that flutter'd by. He saw his people slaves to ev'ry lust, 55 Lewd, avaricious, arrogant, unjus*. : He heard the wheels of an avenging God Groan heavily along the distant ^road ; Saw Babylon set wide her two-Ieav'd brass To let the military deluge pass ; 60 Jerusalem a prey, her glory soil'd, Her princes captive, and her treasure spoil'd ; EXPOSlt^LATION. , ,, 67 — ro brrj5 soul : Wept till all Israel heard his bitter cry^ r-ruin i<r - Stamped with his foot, and smote upon his thigh ; But wept, and stamp 'd, and smote his thigh ill Yaini 65 Pleasure is deaf when told of future pain, , And sounds prophetick are too rough to suit Ears long accustom'd to the pleasing lute : They scorn'dhis inspiration and his theme, Pronounced him frantick, and his fears a dream S^ r li'^ With self indulgence wing'd the fleeting houra^ ; Till the foe found them, and down fell their tow*rf Long time Assyria bound them in her chain, 'Till penitence had purg'd the publick stain, And Cyrus, with relenting pity mov'd, 75 Return'd them happy to the land they lov'd ; There, proof against prosperity, a while They stood the test of her ensnaring smile. And had the grace in scenes of peace to show The virtues they had learn'd in scenes of wo. 80 But man is frail, and can but ill sustain A long immunity from grief and pain ; And after all the joys that Plenty leads, With tiptoe step, Vice silently succeeds. When he that rul'd them with a shepherd's rod 85 In form a man, in dignity a God, Came, not expected in that humble guise, To sift and search them with unerring eyes ; He found conceal'd beneath a fair outside. The filth of rottenness, and worm of pride ; 90 Their piety a system of deceit, Scripture employ 'd to sanctify the cheat ; The pharisee the dupe of his own art. Self idoliz'd, and yet a knave at heart. When nations are to perish in their sins, 06 'Tis in the church the leprosy begins ; The priest, whose office is with zeal sincere To watch the fountain and preserve it clear, Carelessly nods and sleeps upon the brink, While ot\iers poison what the flock must drink ; 100 70 EXPOSTULATION. A cloud to measure out their march by day, By night a fire to cheer the gloomy way : That moving signal summoning, when best Their host to move, and when it stay'd, to rest. 180 For them the rocks dissolv'd into a flood, The dews condens'd into angelick food, Their very garments sacred — old, yet new. And Time forbid to touch them as he flew ; Str(^ams, swell'd above the bank, enjoin'd to stand, 185 While they pass'd through to their appointed land ; Their leader arm'd with meekness, zeal, and love, And grac'd with clear credentials from above Themselves secur'd beneath the Almighty wing ; Their God their captain,* lawgiver, and king ; 190 Crown'd with a thousand vict'ries, and at iast Lords of the conquer'd soil, there rooted fast. In peace possessing what they won by war. Their name far pubhshed, and rever'd as far : Where will you find a race like theirs, endow'd 195 With all that man e'er wish'd, or Heav'n bestow'd ? They, and they only, amongst all mankind Receiv'd the transcript of the eternal mind ; Were trusted with his own engraven laws, And constituted guardians of his cause ; 200 Theirs were the prophets, theirs the priestly call, And theirs, by birth, the Saviour of us all. In vain the nations that had seen them rise With fierce and envious, yet admiring eyes. Had sought to crush them, guarded as they were 205 By pow'r divine, and skill that could not err. Had they maintain'd allegiance firm and sure. And kept the faith immaculate and pure, Then the proud eagles of all-conquering Rome Had found one city not to be o'ercome j 210 And the twelve standards of the tribes imfurl'd. Had bid defiance to the warring world. * Vide Joshua, v. 14. EXPOSTULATION. 71 But grace abus'd brings forth the foulest deeds, As richest soil the most luxuriant weeds. Cur'd of the golden calves, their fathers' sin, 215 They set up self, that idol god, within ; 'J- View'd a deliverer with disdain and hate, Who left them still a tributary state ; Seiz'd fast his hand, held out to set them free From a worse yoke, and nail'd it to the tree : 220 There was the consummation and the cro\vn, The flow'r of Israel's infamy fidl blown ; Thence date their sad declension and their fall, Their woes not yet rcpeal'd, thence date them all. Thus fell the best instructed in her day, 225 And the most favour'd land, look where we may. Philosophy, indeed, on Grecian eyes Had pour'd the day, and clear'd the Roman skies ; In other climes perhaps creative Art, With pow'r surpassing theirs, perform'd her part ; 230 Might give more life to marble, or might fill The glowing tablets with a juster skill ; Might shine in fable, and grace idle themes With all the embroid'ry of poetick dreams ; 'Twas theirs alone to dive into the plan, 235 That Truth and Mercy had reveal'd to man ; ' '^; And, while the world beside, that plan unknown, -^^ Deified useless wood or senseless stone. They breath'd in faith their well-directed pray'rs, And the true God, the God of truth, was theirs. 240 Their glory faded, and their race dispcrs'd. The last of nations now, though once the first ; They warn and teach the proudest, would they Icftfxi. Keep wisdom, or meet vengeance in your turn : If we escap'd not, if Heav'n spar'd not us, 245 Peel'd, scatter'd, and exterminated thus ! If Vice receiv'd her retribution due, When we were visited, what hope for you ? When God arises with an awful frown To punish lust, or pluck presumption down ; 250 72 EXPOSTULATION. When gifts perverted, or not duly piiz'd, PlcEisureo'ervalued, and his grace despised, Provoke the vengeance of his righteous hand ; To pour down wrath upon a thankless land ; He will be found impartially severe, 256 Too just to wink, or speak the guilty cleaE . . Oh Israel, of all nations most undone ! Thy diadem displac'd, thy sceptre gone : ,Thy temple, once thy glory, fall'n and raz'd, And thou a worshipper e'en where thou may'st ; 260 The services, once only without spot, ,.^r^^ Mere shadows now, their ancient pomp forgot ; Thy Levites, once a consecrated host, No longer Levites, and their lineage lost, And tho^ thyself o'er ev'ry country sown, 265 With none en earth that thou canst call thine own ; Cry aloud, thou, that sittest in the dust, Cry to the proud, the cruel, and unjust ; Knock at the gates of nations, rouse their fears ; Say wrath is coming, and the storm appears, 270 But raise the shrillest cry in British ears. What ails thee, restless as the waves that roar, And fling their ibam against thy chalky shore ; Mistress, at least while Providence shall please And trident-bearing queen of the wide seas — 275 Why, having kept good faith, and often shown Friendship and truth to others, ilnd'st thou none ? Thou that hast set the persecuted free, None interposes now to succour thee. Countries indebted to thy pow'r, that shine 280 With light deriv'd from thee, would smother thine > Thy very children watch for thy disgrace— ,^ ^^^^ ^^ A lawless brood, and curse thee to thy face. ^ qQSj{ Thy rulers load thy credit year by year, r With sums Peruvian mines could never clear ; 285 As if, like arches built with skilful hand, The more 'twere press'd the firmer it would stand. EXPOSTULATION 73 The cry in all thy ships is still the same, Speed us away to battle and to fame. Thy mariners explore the wild expanse, 290 Impatient to descry the flags of France : But though they fight as thine have ever fought. Return asham'd without the wreaths they sought Thy senate is a scene of civil jar, Chaos of contrarieties at war ; 205 Where sharp and solid, phlegmatick and light, Discordant atoms meet, ferment, and fight ', Where Obstinacy takes his sturdy stand, To disconcert what Policy has plann'd ; Where Policy is busied all night long 300 In setting right what Faction has set wrong ; Where flails of oratory tliresh the floor, That yields them chaff and dust, and nothing more. Thy rack'd inhabitants repine, complain, Tax'd till the brow of Labour sweats in vain ; 306 War lays a burden on the reeling state, And peace does nothing to relieve the weight ; Successive loads suQceeding broils impose, And sighing millions prophesy the close. Is adverse Providence, when ponder'd well, 310 So dimly writ, or difficult to spell. Thou canst not read with readiness and ease Providence adverse in events like these ? Know, then, that heavenly wisdom on this ball Creates, gives birth to, guides, consummates all ; 316 That while laborious and quick-thoughte J man Snuffs up the praise of what he seems to plan, He first conceives, then perfects his design, As a mere instrument in hands divine : Blind to the working of that secret pow'r, 320 That balances the wings of ev'ry hour, The busy trifler dreams himself alone. Frames many a purpose, and God works his own. States thrive or wither as r oons wax and wane. E'en as his will and his decrees ordain ; 225 Vol. L 7 72 EXPOSTULATION. ; When gifts perverted, or not duly piiz'd, Pleasure o'ervalued, and his grace despis'd, Provoke the vengeance of his righteous hand j -To pour down wrath upon a thankless land ; He will be found impartially severe, 256 Too just to wink, or speak the guilty cleat . j^ --^ Oh Israel, of all nations most undone ! j^^^, ^^^i^j Thy diadem displac'd, thy sceptre gone : ^., jThy temple, once thy glory, fall'n and raz'd, And thou a worshipper e'en where thou may'^t; . ^360 The services, once only without spot, ^^^ j, .^^.jr|% Mere shadows now, their ancient pomp forgot ; Thy Levites, once a consecrated host. No longer Levites, and their lineage lost, And tho^ thyself o'er ev'ry country sown, 265 With none en earth that thou canst call thine own ; Cry aloud, thou, that sittest in the dust, Cry to the proud, the cruel, and unjust j Knock at the gates of nations, rouse their fears ; Say wrath is coming, and the storm appears, 270 But raise the shrillest cry in British ears. What ails thee, restless as the waves that roar, And ffing their ibam against thy chalky shoro ; Mistress, at least while Providence shall please And trident-bearing queen of the wide seas — . 275 Why, having kept good faith, and often shown ,^^ Friendship and truth to others, iind'st thou none ? Thou that hast set the persecuted free, None interposes now to succour tliee. Countries indebted to thy pow'r, that shine 280 With light deriv'd from thee, would smother thine >^ Thy very children watch for thy disgrace— A lawless brood, and curse thee to thy face. Thy rulers load thy credit year by year, With sums Peruvian mines could never clear ; 285 As if, like arches built with skilful hand. The more 'twere press'd the firmer it would stand. EXPOSTULATION 73 The cry in all thy ships is still the same, Speed us away to battle and to fame. Thy mariners explore the wild expanse, 290 Impatient to descry the flags of France : But though they fight as tliine have ever fought^ Return ashara'd without the wreaths they sought Thy senate is a scene of civil jar, Chaos of contrarieties at war j 2D5 Where sharp and solid, phlegmatick and light, Discordant atoms meet, ferment, and fight ; Where Obstinacy takes his sturdy stand, To disconcert what PoUcy has plann'd ; Where Policy is busied all night long 300 In setting right what Faction has set wrong ; Where flails of oratory tliresh the floor, That yields them chaff and dust, and nothing more. Thy rack'd inhabitants repine, complain, Tax'd till the brow of Labour sweats in vain ; 306 War lays a burden on the reeling state, And peace does nothing to relieve the weight ; Successive loads suQceeding broils impose, And sighing millions prophesy the close. Is adverse Providence, when ponder'd well, 310 So dimly writ, or difficult to spell. Thou canst not read with readiness and ease Providence adverse in events like these ? Know, then, that heavenJy wisdom on this ball Creates, gives birth to, guides, consummates all ; 315 That while laborious and quick-thoughteJ man Snuffs up the praise of what he seems to plan, He first conceives, then perfects his design, As a mere instrument in hands divine : Blind to the working of that secret pow'r, 320 That balances the wings of ev'ry hour, The busy trifler dreams himself alone, Frames many a purpose, and God works his own. States thrive or wither as r oons wax and wane. E'en as his will and his decrees ordain ; 225 Vol. L 7 74 EXPOSTULATION. While honour, virtue, piety, bear sway, They flourish ; and as these decline, decay : In just PBsentraent of his injur'd laws. He pours contempt on them, and on their cause *. Strikes the rough thread of errour right athwart 330 The web of ev'ry scheme they have at heart j Bids rottenness invade and bring to dust The pillars of support, in which they trust, And do his errand of disgrace and shame On the chief strength and glory of the frame. 335 None ever yet impeded what he wrought. None bars him out from his most secret thought j Darkness itself before his eye is light, And Hell's close mischief naked in his sight. Stand now and judge thyself— Hast thou incurr'd His anger, who can waste thee with a word ; 341 Who poises and proportions sea and land. Weighing them in the hollow of his hand : And in whose awful sight all nations seem As grasshoppers, as dust, a drop, a dream .'' 345 Hast thou, (a sacrilege his soul abhors,) Claim'dall the glory of thy prosperous wars ? Proud of thy fleets and armies, stol'n the gem Of his just praise, to lavish it on them ? Hast thou not learn'd, what thou art often told, 350 A truth still sacred, and believ'd of old. That no success depends on spears and swords Unblest, and that the battle is the Lord's ? That courage" is his creature, and dismay The post that at his bidding speeds away, 355 Ghastly in feature, and his stamm'ring tongue With doleful rumour and sad presage hung, To quell the valour of the stoutest heart, And teach the combatant a woman's part ? That he bids thousands fly where none pursue, 360 Saves as he will by many or by few, And claims for ever as his royal right, Th' event and sure decision of the fight ? EXPOSTDLArioN. 75 Hast thou, tho' suckled at fair Freedom's breast, Exported Slav'ry to the conquered East ? 365 Pull'd down the tyrants India serv'd with dread, And rais'd thyself, a greater in their stead ? Gone thither arm'd and hungry, return'd full, Fed from the richest veins of the Mogul, A despot big with pow'r obtain'd by wealth, 370 And that obtain'd by rapine and by stealth ? With Asiatick vices stor'd thy mind, But left their virtues and thine own behind ? And having truck'd thy soul, brought home the fee. To tempt the poor to sell himself to thee ? 375 Hast thou by statute shov'd from its design The Saviour's feast, his own bless'd bread and wine, And made the symbols of atoning grace An office-key, a picklock to a place, That infidels may prove their title good 380 By an oath dipp'd in sacramental blood ? A blot, that will be still a blot, in spite Of all that grave apologists may write ; And though a bishop toil to cleanse the stain, He wipes and scours the silver cup in vain. 385 And hast thou sworn on ev'ry slight pretence, Till perjuries are common as bad pence, While thousands, careless of the damning sin, Kiss the book's outside, who ne'er look'd within ? Hast thou, when Heav'n has cloth'd thee witli dis- grace, 390 And long provok'd, repaid thee to thy face, (For thou hast known eclipses, and endur'd, Dimness and anguish, all thy beams obscur'd, When sin has shed dishonour on thy brow ; And never of a sabler hue than now,) 396 Hast thou with heart perverse and conscience sear'd, Despising all rebuke, still perse ver'd. And having chosen evil, scorn'd the voice That cried. Repent ! — and gloried in thy chf ice ^ 76 EXPOSTULATION. Thy fastings, when calamity at last 400 Suggests th' expedient of a yearly fast, What mean they ? Canst thou dream there is a pow*r In lighter diet at a later hour, To charm to sleep the threat'ning of the skies, And hide past folly from all-seeing eyes ? 405 The fast that wins deliverance, and suspends The stroke that a vindictive God intends, Is to renounce hypocrisy ; to draw Thy life upon the pattern of the law ; To war with pleasure, idoliz'd before ; 410 To vanquish lust, and wear its yoke no more. All fasting else, whatever be the pretence, Is wooing mercy by renew'd offence. Hast thou within thee sin, that in old time Brought fire from Heav'n, the sex-abusing crime, 415 Whose horrid perpetration stamps disgrace, Baboons are free from, upon human race ? Think on the fruitful and well-water'd spot That fed the flocks and herds of wealthy Lot. Where Paradise seem'd still vouchsaTd on earth, 420 Burning and scorch'd into perpetual dearth ; Or in his words who damn'd the base desire, Suff'ring the vengeance of eternal fire ; Then Nature injur'd, scandaliz'd, defil'd, Unveil'd her blushing cheek, look'd on, and smil'd j 425 Beheld with joy the lovely scene defac'd, And prais'd the wrath that laid her beauties waste. Far be the thought from any verse of mine, And farther still the form'd and fix'd design, To thrust the charge of deeds, that I detest, 430 Against an innocent unconscious breast ; The man that dares traduce, because he can With safety to himself, is not a man : An individual is a sacred mark Not to be pierc'd in play, or in the dark ; 135 But publick censure speaks a publick foe, Unless a zeal for virtue guide the blow. EXPOSTULATION. T* The priestly brotherhood, devout, smcere, From mean self-mt'rest and ambition clear, Their hope in Heav'n, servility their scorn, 440 Prompt to persuade, expostulate, and warn. Their wisdom pure, and giv'n them from above, Their usefulness ensur'd by zeal and love, As meek as the man Moses, and withal As bold as, in Agrippa*s presence, Paul, 445 Should fly the world's contaminating touch, Holy and unpolluted ; — are thine such ? Except a few with Eli's spirit bless'd, Hophni and Phineas may describe the rest. Where shall a teacher look, in days like these, 450 For ears and hearts that he can hope to please ^ Look to the poor — the simple and the plain Will hear perhaps thy salutary strain ; Humility is gentle, apt to learn, Speeik but the word, will listen and return, 455 Alas, not so ! — the poorest of the flock Are proud, and set their faces as a rock ; Denied that earthly opulence they choose, God's better gift they scofl* at and refuse. The rich, the produce of a nobler stem, 460 Are more intelligent at least — ^try them. Oh, vain inquiry ! they, without remorse, Are altogether gone a devious course ; Where beck'ning Pleasure leads them, wildly stray, Have burst the bands, and cast the yoke away. 465 Now borne upon the wings of truth sublime, Review thy dim original and prime. This island, spot of unreclaim'd rude earth, The cradle that receiv'd thee at thy birth. Was rock'd by many a rough Norwegian blast, 470 And Danish bowlings scar'd thee as they passed ; For thou wast bom amid the din of arms. And suck'd a breast that panted with alarms. While yet thou wast a grov'ling puling chit. Thy bones not fashion'd, and thy joints not knit, 475 7* 78 • EXPOSTULATION. • The Roman taught thy stubborn knee to bow, Though twice a CcBsar could not bend thee now . His victory was of that orient light, When the sun's shafts disperse the gloom of night. Thy language at this distant moment shows 4M How much the country to the conqueror owes ; Expressive, energetick, and refin'd, It ^arkles with the gems he left behind : He brought thy land a blessing when he came ; He found thee savage, and he left thee tame ; 485 Taught thee to clothe thy pink'd and painted hide, And grace thy figure with a soldier's pride ; He sow'd the seeds of order where he went, Improv'd thee far beyond his own intent, And, while he rul'd thee by the sword alone, 490 Made thee at last a warriour like his own. Religion, if in heavenly truths attir'd. Needs only to be seen to be admir'd ; But thine, as dark as witch'ries of the night. Was form'd to harden hearts and shock the sight ; 495 Thy Druids struck the well-hung harps they bore With fingers deeply dyed in human gore ; And while the victim slowly bled to death. Upon the rolling chords rung out his dying breath. Who brought the lamp, that with awaking beams Dispell'd thy gloom, and broke away thy drieams, 501 Tradition, now decrepit and worn out. Babbler of ancient fables, leaves a doubt But still light reach'd thee ; and those gods of thine, Woden and Thor, each tottering in his shrine, 505 Fell, broken and defac'd at his own door, As Dagon in Philistia long before. But Rome with sorceries and magick wand Soon rais'd a cloud, that darken'd ev'ry land ; And thine was smother 'd in the stench and fog 51C Of Tiber's marshes and the papal bog. Then priests with bulls, and briefs, and shaven crown^ And griping fists, and unrelenting frowns, ^--^1 EXPOSTULATION. 79 Legates and delegates with pow'rs from Hell, Though heavenly in pretension, fleec'd thee well ; 515 And to this hour, to keep it fresh in mind. Some twigs of that old scourge are left behind* Thy soldiery, the pope's well-manag'd pack, Were train'd beneath his lash, and knew the smack, And when he laid them on the scent of blood, 520 Would hunt a Saracen through fire and flood. Lavish of life, to win an empty tomb. That prov'd a mint of wealth, a mine to Rome, They left their bones beneath unfriendly skies. His worthless absolution all the prize. 525 Thou wast the veriest slave in days of yore. That ever dragg'd a chain or tugg'd an oar ; Thy monarchs arbitrary, fierce, unjust, Themselves the slaves of bigotry or lust, Disdain'd thy counsels, only in distress 530 Found thee a goodly spunge for Power to press. Thy chiefs, the lords of many a petty fee, Provok'd and harass'd, in return plagu'd thee ; Call'd thee away from peaceable employ, Domestick happiness and rural joy, 535 To waste thy life in arms, or lay it down In causeless feuds and bick'rings of their own. Thy parliaments ador'd on bended knees Tlie sov'reignty they were conven'd to please ; Whate'er was ask'd, too timid to resist, 540 Complied with, and were graciously dismissed ; And if some Spartan soul a doubt express'd. And blushing at the tameness of the rest, Dar'd to suppose the subject had a choice. He was a traitor by the general voice. 645 O slave ! with powers thou didst not dare exert, Verse cannot stoop so low as thy desert ; It shakes the sides of splenetick Disdain, Thou self-entitled ruler of the main. To trace thee to the date when yon fair sea, 550 That clips thy shores, had no such charms for thee ; * Which may be found at Doctors' Commons. 80 EXPOSTULATION. When other nations flew from coast to coast. And thou hadst neither fleet nor flag to boast. Kneel now, and lay thy forehead in the dust ; Blush if thou canst; not petrified, thou must j 555 Act but an honest and a faithful part ; Compare what then thou wast with what thou ait j And God's disposing providence confess'd, Obduracy itself must yield the rest — Then thou art bound to serve him, and to prove, 560 Hour after hour, thy gratitude and love. Has he not hid thee, and thy favour'd land, For ages safe beneath his shelt'ring hand : Giv'n thee his blessing on the clearest proof, Bid nations leagu'd against thee stand aloof, 565 And charg'd Hostility and Hate to roar, Where else they would, but not upon thy shore ? His power secur'd thee when presumptuous Spain Baptiz'd her fleet invincible in vain ; Her gloomy monarch, doubtful and resign'd 570 To ev'ry pang that racks an anxious mind, Ask'd of the waves that broke upon liis coast, What tidings ? and the surge replied — All lost ! And when the Stuart, leaning on the Scot, Then too much fear'd and now too much forgot, 575 Pierc'd to the very centre of the realm, And hop'd to seize his abdicated helm, *Twas but to prove how quickly with a frown. He that had rais'd thee could have pluck'd thee down. Peculiar is the grace by thee possess'd, 580 Thy foes implacable, thy land at rest ; Thy thunders travel over earth and seas, And all at home is pleasure, wealth, and ease. 'Tis thus, extending his tempestuous arm, Thy Maker fills the nations with alarm, 585 While his own Heav'n surveys the troubled scene, And feels no change, unshaken and serene. Freedom, in other lands scarce known to shine, Pours out a flood of splendour upon thine j EXPOSTULATION. 81 Thou hast as bright an int'rest in her rays, 590 As ever Roman had in Rome's best days. True freedom is where no restraint is known, That Scripture, justice, and good sense disown ; Where only vice and injury are tied. And all from shore to shore is free beside. 595 Such freedom is — and Windsor's hoary tow*rs Stood trembling at the boldness of thy pow'rs, That won a nymph on that immortal plain, Like Iier the fabled Phoebus woo'd in vain ; He found the laurel only — happier you, 600 Th' unfading laurel and the virgin too !* Now think, (if pleasure have a thought to spare , If God himself be not beneath her care ; Tf business, constant as the wheels of time. Can pause an hour to read a serious rhyme ; 605 If the new mail thy merchants now receive, Or expectation of the next give leave,) O think, if chargeable with deep arrears For such indulgence gilding all thy years, How much, though long neglected, shining yet, 610 The beams of heavenly truth have swell'd the debt. When persecuting zeal made royal sport With tortur'd innocence in Mary's court, And Bonner, blithe as shepherd at a wake, Enjoy'd the show, and danc'd about the stake ; 615 The sacred book, its value understood, Receiv'd the seal of martyrdom in blood. Those holy men, so full of truth and grace, Seem to reflection of a different race ; Meek, modest, venerable, wise, sincere, G20 In such a cause they could not dare to fear j They could not purchase earth with such a prize. Or spare a hfe too short to reach the skies. * Alluding to the grant of Magna Charta, which was ex- torted from King John by the barons at Riannymede, near Windsor. B2 EXPOSTULATION. From them to thee convey 'd along the tide, Their streaming hearts pour'd freely, when they died ; Those truths, which neither use nor years impair, 02fi Invite thee, woo thee, to the bliss the}'- share. What dotage will not vanity maintain ? What web too weak to catch a modern brain ? The moles and bats in full assembly find 630 On special search, the keen-ey'd eagle blind. And did they dream, and art thou wiser now ? Prove it — if better, I submit and bow. Wisdom and goodness are twin-born, one heart Must hold both msters, never seen apart. 635 So then — as darkness overspread the deep, Ere Nature rose from her eternal sleep. And this delightful earth, and that fair sky, Leap'd out of nothing, call'd by the Most High ; By such a change thy darlmess is made light, 640 Thy chaos order, and thy weakness might ; And He whose pow'r mere nullity obeys, Who found thee nothing, form'd thee for his praise. To praise him is to serve him, and fulfil, Doing and sufTring, his unquestion'd will ; 645 'Tis to beUeve what men inspir'd of old, Faithful, and faithfully inform'd, unfold ; Candid and just, v/itli no false aim in view, To take for truth what cannot but be true ; To learn in God's own school the Christian part, 650 And bind the task assign'd thee to thine heart : Happy the man there seeking and there found, Happy the nation where such men abound. How shall a verse impress thee ? by wliat nams Shall I adjure thee not to court thy shame ? 655 Jly theirs, whose bright example unimpeach'd. Directs thee to that eminence they reach'd, Heroes and worthies of days past, thy sires .'' Or his, who touch'd their hearts with hallow'd firop Their names, alas ! in vairi reproach an age, Whom all the vanities they scorn'd engage * EXPOSTULATION. 83 And His, that seraph's trembled at, is hung Disgracefully on ev'ry trifler's tongue, Or serves the champion in forensick war To flourish and parade with at the bar. 665 Pleasure herself perhaps suggests a plea, If interest move thee, to persuade e'en thee ; By ev'ry charm, that smiles upon her face, Pty joys possess'd, and joys still held in chase, If dear society bo worth a thought, 670 And if the feast of freedom cloy thee not, Reflect that these, and all that seem thine own, Held by the tenure of his will alone, Like angels in the service of their Lord, Remain with thee, or leave thee at his word , 675 That gratitude and temperance in our use Of what he gives, unsparing, and profuse Secure the favour, and enhance the joy, That thankless waste and wild abuse destroy. But, above all, reflect, how cheap soe'er 680 Those rights that millions envy thee appear. And though resolv'd to risk them, and swim down The tide of pleasure, heedless of his frown. That blessings truly sacred, and when giv'n, Mark'd with the signature and stamp of Heav'n, 685 The word of prophecy, those truths divine. Which make that Heav'n, if thou desire it, thine. Awful alternative ! believ'd, belov'd, (Thy glory, and thy shame if unimprov'd,) Are never long vouchsaTd, if push'd aside 690 With cold disgust, or philosophick pride ; And that judicially withdrawn, disgrace^ Ex-rour, and darkness, occupy their place. A world is up in arms, and thou, a spot Not quickly found if negligently sought, 695 Thy soul as ample as thy boimds are small, Endur'st the brunt, and dar'st defy them aU And wilt thou join to this bold enterprise, A bolder still, a contest with the skies ? 84 EXPOSTULATION. Remember, if He guard thee and secure, 700 Whoe'er assails thee, thy success is sure ; But if He leave thee, though the skill and pow*r Of nations sworn to spoil thee and devour, Were all collected in thy single arm, And thou could'st laugh away the fear of harm, 705 That strength would fail, oppos'd against the pjish And feeble onset of a pigmy rush. Say not, (and if the thought of such defence Should spring within thy bosom, drive it thence,) What nation amongst all my foes is free 710 From crimes as base as any charg'd on me ? Their measure fiU'd, they too shall pay the debt. Which God, though long forborne, will not forget. But know that wrath divine, when most severe. Makes justice still the guide of his career, 715 And will not punish, in one mingled crowd, Them without light, and thee without a cloud. Muse, hang this iKirp upon yon aged beech. Still murm'ring with the solemn truths I teach ; And while at intervals a cold blast sings 720 Through the dry leaves and pants upon the strings, My soul shall sigh in secret, and lament A nation scourg'd, yet tardy to repent. I know the warning song is sung in vain ; That few will hear, and fewer heed the strain ; 725 But if a sweeter voice, and one design'd A blessing to my country and mankind, Reclaim the wand'ring thousands, and bring home A flock so scatter'd and so wont to roam. Then place it once again between my knees ; 730 The sound of truth will then be sure to please : And truth alone, where'er my life be cast, In scenes of plenty, or the pining waste. Shall be mj chosen theme, my glory to the last. HQPE. doceas iter, et sacra ostea pandas. ViRG. En, 6. ASK what is human life — ^the sage replies, With disappointment low'ring in his eyes, A painful passage o'er a restless flood ; A vain pursuit of fugitive false good 5 A scene of fancied bliss and heart-felt care, 5 Closing at last in darkness and despair. The poor, inur'd to drudg'ry and distress, Act without aim, think little, and feel less, And no where, but in feign'd Arcadian scenes. Taste happiness, or know what pleasure means. 10 Riches are pass'd away from hand to hand, As fortune, vice, or folly may command ; As in a dance, the pair that take the lead Turn downward, and the lowest pair succeed, So shifting and so various is the plan, 15 By which Hcav'n rules the mix'd affairs of man ; Vicissitude wheels round the motley crowd, TJio rich grow poor, the poor become purse-proud ; Business is labour, and man's weakness such. Pleasure is labour too, arid tires as much. 20 The very sense of it foregoes its use. By repetition pall'd, by age obtuse, f outh lost in dissipation, we deplore. Through life's sad remnant, what no sighs restore : Vol.. I. 8 86 HOPE. T ur years a fruitless race without a prize, 25 Poo many, yet too few to make us wise. Dangling his cane about, and taking snuff, Lothario cries, What philosophick stuff- O querulous and weak ! — ^whose useless brain Once thought of nothing, and now thinks in vain j 30 Whose eye reverted weeps o'er all the past, Whose prospect shows thee a disheart'ning waste : Would age in thee resign his wintry reign, And youth invigorate that frame again, Renew'd desire would grace with other speech 35 Joys always priz'd, when plac'd within our reach. For, lift thy palsied head, shake off the gloom That overhangs the borders of thy tomb. See Nature gay as when she first began, With smiles alluring her admirer man ; 40 She spreads the morning over eastern hills, Earth glitters with the drops the night distils ; The sun, obedient at her call, appears. To fling his glories o'er the robe she wears ; Banks cloth'd with flow'rs, groves fill'd with sprightly sounds, 45 The yellow tilth, green meads, rocks, rising grounds, Streams edg'd with osiers, fatt'ning ev'ry field. Where'er they flow, now seen, and now conceal'd ; From the blue rim, where skies and mountains meet, Down to the very turf beneath thy feet, 50 Ten thousand charms, that only fools despise, Or Pride can look at with indiff'rent eyes. All speak one language, all with one sweet voice Cry to her universal realm. Rejoice ! Man feels the spur of passions and desires ; 55 And she gives largely more than he requires ; Not that his hours devoted all to Care, HoUow-ey'd Abstinence, and lean Despair, The wretch may pine, while to his smeR, taste, sight. She holds a paradise of rich delight ; 60 HOPE. 87 But gently to rebuke his awkward fear, To prove that what she gives, she gives sincere. To banish hesitation, and proclaim His happiness, her dear, her only aim. 'Tis grave philosophy's absurdest dream, 65 That Heav'n's intentions are not what they seem That only shadows are dispens'd below, And earth has no reality but wo. Thus things terrestrial wear a different hue, As youth or age persuades ; and neither true. 70 So Flora's wreath through colour'd crystal seen, The rose or lily appears blue or green, But still th' imputed tints are those alone The medium represents, and not their own. To rise at noon, sit slipshod and undress'd, 75 To read the news or fiddle as seems best, Till half the world comes rattling at his door, To fill the dull vacuity till four ; And, just when ev'ning turns the blue vault gray, To spend two hours in dressing for the day : 80 To make the Sun a bauble without use, Save for the fruits his heav'nly beams produce : Quite to forget, or deem it worth no thought. Who bids him shine, or if he shine or not ; Through mere necessity to close his eyes 85 Just when the larks and when the shepherds rise • Is such a life, so tediously the same, So void of all utility or aim, That poor Jonquil, with almost ev'ry breath, Sighs for his exit, vulgarly calPd death : 90 For he, with all his follies, has a mind Not yet so blank, or fashionably blind, ^^ ^ But now and then perhaps a feeble ray Of distant wisdom shoots across his way ; By which he reads, that life without a plan, As useless as the moment it began, Serves merely as a soil for discontent To thrive in ; an incumbrance ere half spent. 88 HOPE. O weariness beyond what asses feel, That tread the circuit of the cistern wheel ; 100 A dull rotation, never at a stay, Yesterday's face twin image of to-day ; While conversation, an exhausted stock, Grows drowsy as the clicking of a clock. No need he cries^ of gravity stuft^d out X05 With academick dignity devout, To read wise lectures, vanity the text ; Proclaim the remedy, ye learned, next ; For truth self-evident, with pomp impress'd, Is vanity surpassing all the rest. 110 That remedy, not hid in deeps profound, Yet seldom sought where only to be found, While passion turns aside from its due scope Th' inquirer's aim, that remedy is hope. Life is his gift, from whom whate'er life needs, 115 With ev'ry good and perfect gift proceeds ; Bestow'd on man, like all that we partake, Royally, freely, for his bounty's sake ; Transient indeed, as is the fleeting hour, And yet the seed of an immortal flow'r ; 130 Design'd in honour of his endless love, To fill with fragance his abode above ; No trifle, howsoever short it seem, And howsoever shadowy, no dream ; Its value what no thought can ascertain, 125 Nor all an angel's eloquence explain. Men deal with life as children v/ith their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away ; Live to no sober purpose, and contend That their Creator had no serious end. 130 When God and man stand opposite in view, Man's disappointment must of course ensue. The just Creator condescends to write. In beams of inextinguishable light, His names of wisdom, goodness, pow'r, and love, 135 On all that blooms below, or shines above ; HOPE. 89 To catch the wand'ring notice of mankind, And teach the world, if not perversely Llind, His gracious attributes, and prove the share His offspring hold in his paternal care. 140 If, led from earthly things to things divine, His creature thwart not his august design. Then praise is heard instead of reas'ning pride, And captious cavil and complaint subside. Nature employ'd in her allotted place, 1 45 Is handmaid to the purposes of Grace ; By good vouchsard makes known superiour good, And bliss not seen by blessings understood : That bliss, reveal'd in Scripture, with a glow Bright as the covenant- ensuring bow, 150 Fires all his feelings with a noble scorn Of sensual evil, and thus hope is born. Hope sets the stamp of vanity on all That men have deem'd substantial since the fall ; Yet has the wondrous virtue to educe 155 From emptiness itself a real use ; And while she takes, as at a father's hand, What health and sober appetite demand, From fading good derives, with chemick art, That lasting happiness, a thankful heart. 160 Hope with uplifted foot, set free from earth. Pants for the place of her ethereal birth, On steady wings sails through the immense abyss, Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss. And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here 165 With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear. Hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast The Christian vessel, and defies the blast. Hope ! nothing else can nourish and secure His new-born virtues, and preserve him pure. 170 Hope ! let the wretch, once conscious of the joy, Whom now despairing agonies destroy, Speak, for he can, and none so well as he, WJiat treasures centre, what dehghts in thee 8* 90 HOPE. Had he the gems, the spices, and the land, 175 That boasts the treasure, all at his command ; The fragrant ^Tove, th' inestimable mine, Were light, when weigh'd against one smile of Ihino. Though clasp 'd and cradled in his nurse's arms. He shines with all a cherub's artless charms- IQO Man is the genuine offspring of revolt, Stubborn and sturdy as a wild ass' colt ; His passions, like the wat'ry stores that sleep Beneath the smiling surface of the deep. Wait but the lashes of a wintry storm, 185 To frown, and roar, and shake his feeble form. From mfancy through childhood's giddy maze Fro ward at school, and fretful in his plays. The puny tyrant burns to subjugate The free republick of the w^hipgig state. 190 If one, his equal in athletick frame, Or, more provoking still, of nobler name, Dare step across his arbitrary views. An Iliad, only not in verse, ensues ; The little Greeks look trembling at the scales, 195 Till the best tongue, or heaviest hand prevails. Now see him launch'd into the world at large ; If priest, supinely droning o'er his charge. Their fleece his pillow, and his weekly drawl, Though short, too long, the price he pays for alL 200 If lawyer, loud whatever cause he plead. But proudest of the worst, if that succeed. Perhaps a grave physician, gath'ring fees. Punctually paid for length'ning out disease; No Cotton, whose humanity sheds rays 205 That make superiour skill his second praise. If arms engage him, he devotes to sport His date of life, so likely to be short ; A soldier may be any thing, if brave, So may a tradesman, if not quite a knave. 210 Such stuff the Avorld is made of: and mankind To passion, int'rost, plrasure, whim, resign'd, HOPE. Insist on, as if each "were his own pop^^ii Forgiveness, and the privilege of hope. .: But Conscience, in some awful, silent hout, When captivating lusts have lost their pow'r, Perhaps when sickness, or some fearful dream, Reminds him of religion, hated theme ! Starts from the down, on which she lately slept, And tells of laws despis'd, at least not kept : 220 Shows with a pointing finger, but no noise, A pale procession of past sinful joys, All witnesses of blessings foully scorn 'd, And life abus'd, and not to be suborn'd. Mark these, she says ; these summon'd from afftf* 225 Begin their march to meet thee at the bar ; There find a judge inexorably just. And perish there, as all presumption must. Peace be to those, (such peace as earth can give>) Who Uve in pleasure, dead e'en while they live j 230 Born, capable, indeed, of heav'nly truth ; But down to latest age, from earliest youth, Their mind a wilderness through want of care, The plough of wisdom never ent'ring there. Peace, (if insensibility may claim • '' 235 A right to the meek honours of her name,) To men of pedigree, their noble race, Emulous always of the nearest place To any throne, except the throne of Grace. Let cottagers and unenlighten'd swains 240 Revere the laws they dream'd that Heav'n ordains ; Resort on Sundays to the house of pray'r. And ask, and fancy they find blessings there. ^ Themselves, perhaps, when weary they retreat T' enjoy cool nature in a country seat, 245 T' exchange the centre of a thousand trades, For clumps, and lawns, and temples, arid cascades, May now and then their velvet cushions take , And seem to pray, for good example sake ; 92 HOPE. Judging, in charity, no doubt, the town 250 Pious enough, and having need of none. Kind souls ! to teach their tenantry to prize What they themselves, without remorse despise : Nor hope have they, nor fear of aught to come, , As well for them had prophecy been dumb ; 255 They could have held the conduct they pursue, Had Paul of Tarsus liv'd and died a Jew ; And truth, propos'd to reas'ners wise as they, Is a pearl cast — completely cast away. They die — Death lends them, pleas'd, and as in sport, 260 All the grim honours of his ghastly court. Far other paintings grace the chamber now. Where late we saw the mimick landscape glow : The busy heralds rang the sable scene With mournful scutcheons, and dim lamps between ; Proclaim their titles to the crowd around, 266 But they that wore them move not at the sound ; The coronet plac'd highly at their head. Adds nothing now to the degraded dead ; And e'en the star, that glitters on the bier, 270 Can only say — Nobility lies here. Peace to all such — 'twere pity to oiFend, By useless censure, whom we cannot mend ; Life without hope can close but in despair, 'Twas there we found them, and must leave them there. 275 As when two pilgrims in a forest stray. Both may be lost, yet each in his own way ; So fg-res it with the multitudes beguil'd In vain Opinion's waste and dang 'reus wild ; Ten thousand rove the brakes and thorns among, 280 Some eastward, and some westward, and all wrong. But here, alas ! the fatal difPrence lies. Each man's belief is right in his own eyes ; And he that blames what they have blindly chose. Incurs resentment for the love he shows. 285 HOPE. 93 Say, botanist, within whose province fall The cedar and the hyssop on the wall, Of all that deck the lanes, the fields, the bow'rs , What parts the kindred tribes of weeds and flow'rs ? Sweet scent, or lovely form, or both combin'd, 290 Distinguish ev'ry cultivated kind ; The want of both denotes a meaner breed, And Chloe from her garland picks the weed. Thus hopes of ev'ry sort, whatever sect Esteem them, sow them, rear them, and protect 295 If wild in nature, and not duly found, Gethsemane ! in thy dear hallow'd ground, That cannot bear the blaze of Scripture light, Nor cheer the spirit, nor refresh the sight. Nor animate the soul to Christian deeds, 300 (Oh cast them from thee !) are weeds, arrant weeds. Ethelred's house, the centre of six ways, Diverging each from each, like equal rays, Himself as bountiful as April rains, Lord paramount of the surrounding plains, 30& Would give rehef of bed and board to none, But guests that sought it in th' appointed One ; And they might enter at his open door. E'en till his spacious hall would hold no more. He sent a servant forth, by ev'ry road, 310 To sound his horn, and publish it abroad. That all might mark — knight, menial, high, and low, An ord'nance it concern'd them much to know. If after all some headstrong hardy lout Would disobey, tliDUgh sure to be shut out, 315 Could he with reason murmur at his case, Himself sole author of his own dipgrace ? No ! the decree was just and without flaw ; And he that made, had right to make the law ; His sov'reign power, and pleasure unrestrain'd, 320 The wrong was his who wrongfully complain'd. Yet half mankind maintains a churlish strife With Him, the Donor of eternal hfe, 94 HOPE. Because the deed, by which his love confirms The largess h3 bestows, prescribes the terms. S25 Compliance with his will your lot ensuies, Accept it only, and the boon is yours. And sure it is as kind to smile and give, As with a frown to say. Do this, and live. Love is not pedler's trump'ry, bought and sold • 330 He will give freely, or he will withhold ; His soul abhors a mercenary thought, And him as deeply who abhors it not ; He stipulates, indeed, but merely this, ^ ^ That man will freely take an unbought bliss, 335 Will trust him for a faithful gen'rous part, Nor set a price upon a willing heart. Of all the wL/s that seem to promise fair, To place you where his saints his presence share. This only can ; for this plain cause, express'd 340 In terms as plam— Himself has shut the rest. But oh the strife, the bick'ring, and debate, The tidings of unpurchas'd Heav'n create I The flirted fan, the bridle, and the toss, All speakers, yet all language at a loss. From stucco'd walls smart arguments rebound ; And beaux, adepts in ev'ry thing profound. Die of disdain, or whistle off the sound. Such is the clamour of rooks, daws, and kites, Th' explosion of the levell'd tube excites. Where mould'ring abbey walls o'erhang the glade, And oaks coeval spread a mournful shade, The screaming nations, hov'ring in mid air. Loudly resent the stranger's freedom there. And seem to warn him never to repeat 355 His bold intrusion on their dark retreat. Adieu, Vinosa cries, ere yet he sips The purple bumper trembling at his lips — Adieu to all morahty ! if Grace Make works a vain ingredient in the case. 360 345 350 HOPE. 95 The Christian hope is — Waiter, draw the coik— If I mistake not — Blockhead ! with a fork ! Without good works, whatever some may boast, Mere folly and delusion — Sir, your toast. My firm persuasion is, at least sometimes, 3(J5 That Heav'n will weigh man's virtues and his crimes With nice attention, in a righteous scale, And save or damn as these or those prevail. I plant my foot upon this groimd of trust, And silence ev'ry fear with — God is just. 370 But if, perchance, on some dull, drizzling day, A thought intrude, that says, or seems to say, If thus th' important cause is to be tried, Suppose the beam should dip on the wrong side } I soon recover from these needless frights, 375 And God is merciful — sets all to rights. Thus between justice, as my prime support. And mercy, fled to as the last resort, I glide and steal along with Heav'n in view. And— pardon me, the bottle stands with you. 380 I never will believe, the colonel cries, The sanguinary schemes that some devise, Who make the good Creator on their plan, A being of less equity than man. If appetite, or what divines call lust, 385 Which men comply with, e'en because th^y must, Be punish'd with perdition, who is pure ? Then theirs, no doubt, as well as mine, is sure. If sentence of eternal pain belong To ev'ry sudden slip and transient wrong, 390 Then Heav'n enjoins the fallible and frail A hopeless task, and damns them if they fail. My creed, (whatever some creed-makers mean By Athanasian nonsense, or Nicene,) My creed is, he is safe, that does his best, 395 And death's a doom sufficient for the rest. Right, says an ensign ; and for aught I see Tour faith and mine substantially agree ; 0C HOPE. Tho best of ev'ry man's performance here Is to discharge the duties of his sphere. 400 A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair, Honesty sliines with great advantage there. Fasting and pray'r sit well upon a priest, A decent caution and reserve at least. A soldier's best is courage in the field, 405 With nothing here that wants to be conceal'd. Manly doportment, gallant, easy, gay ; A hand as lib'ral as the light of day. The soldier thus endow'd who never shrinks, Nor closets up his thoughts, whate'er he thinks 410 Who scorns to do an injury by stealthy Must go to Heav'n — and I must drink his healtk Sir Smug, he cries, (for lowest at the board, Just made fifth chaplain of his patron lord, His shoulders witnessing by many a shrug 415 How much his feelings suffer'd, sat Sir Smug,^ Your office is to winnow false from true ; Come, Prophet, drink, and tell us, What think j - «i ? Sighing and smiling as he takes his glass, Which they that woo preferment rarely pass, 420 Fallible man, the church-bred youth replies, Is still found fallible, however wise ; And diff*'ring judgments serve but to declare. That truth Ijes somewhere, if we knew but where Of all it ever was my lot to read, 125 Of criticks now alive, or long since dead, The book of all the world that charm 'd me most Was — ^well-a-day — ^the title page was lost ; The writer well remarks, a heart that knows To take with gratitude what Heav'n bestows, ^30 With prudence always ready at our call. To guide our use of it, is all in all. Doubtless it is — To which, of my own store, I superadd a few essentials more ; But these, excuse the liberty I take, 435 [ wave just how, for conversation's sake. — zJj HOPE. 97 Spoke like an oraclci they all exclaim, And add Right Rev'rend to Smug's honoured name. And yet our lot is giv'n us in a land, Where busy arts are never at a stand ; 440 Where Science points her telescopick eye, Familiar with the wonders of the sky ; Where bold inquiry, diving out of sight, Brings many a precious pearl of truth to If^ht ; Where naught eludes the persevering quest, 445 That fashion, taste, or luxury, suggest. But above all, in her own Ught array'd, See Mercy*s grand apocalypse display'd ! The sacred book no longer suffers wrong. Bound in the fetters of an unltnown toncue ; 450 But speaks with plainness, art could never mend, What simplest minds can soonest comprehend. God gives the word, the preachers throng around, Live from liis lips, and spread the glorious sound ; That sound bespeaks Salvation on her way, 455 The trumpet of a life-restoring day ; 'Tis heard where England's eastern glory shines, And in the gulfs of her Cornubian mines. And still it spreads. See Germany send forth Her sons* to pour it on the farthest north : 460 Fir'd with a zeal peculiar, they defy The rage and rigour of a polar sky. And plant successfully sweet Sharon's rose On icy plains, and in eternal snows. O bless'd within th' enclosure of your rocks, 465 Nor herds have ye to boast, nor bleating flocks ; No fertilizing streams your fields divide, That show revers'd the villas on their side ; No groves have ye ; no cheerful sound of bird, Or voice of turtle in your land is heard ; 4i'0 Nor grateful eglantine regales the smell Of those that walk at ev'ning where ye dwell ; •^The Moravian Missionaries in Greenland. See Krants Vol. I. 9 98 HOPE. But winter, arm'd with terrours here unknown, Sits absolute on his unshaken throne ; Piles up his stores amidst the frozen waste, 475 And bids the mountains he has built stand fast : Beckons the legions of his storms away From happier scenes, to make your land a prey ; Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won, And scorns to share it with the distant Sun. 480 — Yet truth is yours, remote, unenvied isle ! And Peace, the genuine offspring of her smile ; The pride of letter'd Ignorance that binds In chains of errour our accomplish'd minds, That decks with all the splendour of the true, 485 A false religion is unknown to you. Nature, indeed, vouchsafes for our delight The sweet vicissitudes of day and night : Soft airs and genial moisture feed and cheer Field, fruit, and flow'r, and ev'ry creature here ; 490 But brighter beams than his who fires the skies, Have ris'n at length on your admiring eyes. That shoot into your darkest caves the day. From which our nicer opticks turn away. Here see the encouragement Grace gives to vice, The dire effect of mercy without price ! 496 What were they ? what some fools are made by art, They were by nature, atheists head and heart. The jp;ross idolatry blind heathens teach. Was too refin'd for them, beyond their reach. 500 Not e'en the glorious Sun, though men revere The monarch most, that seldom will appear. And tho' liis beams, that quicken where they shine, May claim some right to be esteem'd divine. Not e'en the Sun, desirable as rare, 505 Could bend one knee, engage one votary there ; They were, what base Credulity believes True Christians are, dissemblers, drunkards, thieves : The fuU-gorg'd savage, at his nauseous feast Spent half the darkness, and snor*d out the rest, 510 HOPE. 99 Was one, whom Justice, on an equal plan Denouncing death upon the sins of man, Might almost have indulged with an escape, Chargeable only with a human shape. What are they now ? — Morality may spare 515 Her grave concern, her kind suspicions there : The wretch, -who once sang wildly, danc*d, and lahgh'd. And suck'd in dizzy madness with kis draught, Has wept a silent flood, revers'd his ways, Is sober, meek, benevolent, and prays, 520 Feeds sparingly, communicates his store. Abhors the craft he boasted of before. And he that stole has learn'd to steal no more. Well spake the prophet — Let the desert sing, Where sprang the thorn, the spiry fir shall spring, 525 And where unsightly and rank thistles grew, Shall grow the myrtle and luxuriant yew. Go now, and with important tone demand On what foimdation virtue is to stand. If self-exalting claims be turn'd adrift, 530 And grace be grace indeed, and life a gift ; The poor reclaim'd inhabitant, his eyes Glist'ning at once with pity and surprise, Amaz'd that shadows should obscure the sight Of one, whose birth was in a land of light, 535 Shall answer, Hope, sweet Hope, has set me free, And made all pleasures else mere dross to me. These amidst scenes as waste as if denied The common care that waits on all beside. Wild as if Nature there, void of all good, 540 Play'd only gambols in a frantick mood (Yet charge not heavenly skill with having plann d A play thing world, unworthy of his hand ;) Can see his love, though secret evil lurks In all we touch, stamp 'd plainly on his works j 545 Deem life a blessing with its num'rous woes, Nor spurn away a gift a G« d bestows. 100 HOPE. Hard task indeed o'er arctick seas to roam ! Is hope exotick ? grows it not at home ? Yes, but an object, bright as orient morn, f i50 May press the eye too closely to be borne ; A distant viftue we can all confess. It hurts our pride, and moves our envy less. Leuconomus, (beneath well-sounding Greek, I shir a name, a poet must not speak,) 555 Stood pilloried on Infamy's high stage, And bore the pelting scorn of half an age : The very butt of Slander, and the blot For ev'ry dart that Malice ever shot. The man that mention'd him at once dismiss'd 560 All mercy from his lips, and sneer'd and hiss'd ; His crimes were such as Sodom never knew, And Perjury stood up to swear all true ; His aim was mischief, and his zeal pretence. His speech rebellion against common sense ; 565 A knave, when tried on honesty's plain rule ; And when by that of reason, a mere fool ; The World's best comfort was, his doom was pass d Die when he might, he must be damn'd at last. Now, Truth, perform thine office ; waft aside 570 The curtain drawn by Prejudice and Pride, Reveal, (the man is dead) to wond'ring eyes, This more than monster in his proper guise. He lov'd the world that hated him ; the tear That dropp'd upon his Bible was sincere : 475 Assail'd by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer w?5 a blameless hfe ; And he that forg'd, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's int'rest in his heart. Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbrib'd, 480 Were copied close in him, and well transcrib'd. He follow'd Paul ; his zeal a kindred flame, His apostolick charity the same. Like him, cross'd cheerfully tempestuous seas, Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease ', 585 HOPE. 101 Like him he labour'd, and like him content To bear it, suffer'd shame where'er he went. Blush Calumny ! and write upon his tomb, If honest Eulogy can spare thee room, Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies, 590 Which, aim'd at him, have pierc'd th' offended skies ! And say, Blot out my sin, confess'd, deplor'd, Against thine image, in thy saint, O Lord ' * No blinder bigot, I maintain it still, Than he who must have pleasure, come what will : He laughs, whatever weapon Truth may draw, 596 And deems her sharp artillery mere straw. Scripture indeed is plain ; but God and he On Scripture ground are sure to disagree ; Some wiser rule must teach him how to live, 600 Than this his Maker has seen fit to give ; Supple and flexible as Indian cane, To take the bend his appetites ordain ; Contriv'd to suit frail Nature's crazy case, And reconcile his lust with saving grace. 605 By this, with nice precision of design, He draws upon life's map a zigzag hne, That shows how far 'tis safe to follow sin. And where his danger and God's wrath begin. By this he forms, as pleas'd he sports along, 610 His well-pois'd estimate of right and wrong ; And finds the modish manners of the day, Though loose, as harmless as an infant's play. Build by whatever plan Caprice decrees, With what materials, on what ground you please ; 615 YDur hope shall stand unblara'd, perhaps admir'd. If not that hope the Scripture has requir'd. The strange conceits, vain projects, and wild dreams, With which hypocrisy for ever teems, (Though other follies strike the publick eye, 620 And raise a laugh,) pass unmolested by ; But if, unblamable in word or thought, A man arise, a man whom God has taught 9* f02 HOPE. With all Elijah*s dimity of tone, And all the love of the beloved John, 625 To storm the citadels they build in air. And smite the untemper'd wall ; 'tis death to spare To sweep away all refuges of lies, And place, instead of quirks themselves devise, Lama sahactkani before their eyes ; 630 To prove, that without Christ all gain is loss. All hope despair, that stands not on his cross ; Except the few his God may have impress'd, A tenfold frenzy seizes all the rest. Throughout mankind, the Christian kind at lea&t. There dwells a consciousness in ev'ry breast, 636 That folly ends where genuine hope begins. And he that finds his Heav'n must lose his sins. Nature opposes with her utmost force This riving stroke, this ultimate divorce } 640 And, while religion seems to be her view, Hates with a deep sincerity the true : For this, of all that ever influenc'd man, Since Abel worshipp'd, or the world began, This only spares no lust, admits no plea, 645 But makes him, if at all, completely free ; Sounds forth the signal, as she mounts her car, Of an eternal, universal war ; Rejects all treaty, penetrates all wiles, 649 Scorns with the same indiff'rence frowns and smiles i Drives through the realms of Sin, where Riot reels, And grinds his crown beneath her burning wheels ! Hence all that is in man, pride, passion, art, Pow'rs of the mind, and feelings of the heart, Insensible of Truth's almighty charms, 655 Starts at her first approach, and sounds to arms ! While Bigotry, with well-dlssemblod fears. His eyes shut fast, his fingers in his ears. Mighty to parry and push by God's word Witli senseless noise, his argument the sword, 660 HOPE. io:> Pretends a zeal for godliness and grace, And spits abhorrence in the Christian's face. Parent of Hope, immortal Truth ! make known Thy deathless wreaths and triumphs all thine own : The silent progress of thy pow'r is such, 6G5 Thy means so feeble, and despis'd so much, That few believe the wonders thou hast wrought, And none can teach them, but whom thou hast taught. O see me sworn to serve thee, and command A painter's skill into a poet's hand. 670 That while I trembling trace a work divine, Fancy may stand aloof from the design. And light, and shade, and ev'ry stroke be thine. If ever thou hast felt another's pain : If ever when he sigh'd, hast sigh'd again ; 675 If ever on thy eyelid stood the tear Tliat pity had engender'd, droo one here. This man was happy — ^had the World's gibd word. And with it ev'ry joy it can afford ; Friendship and love seem'd tenderly at strife, 680 Which most should sweeten his untroubled life ; Politely learn'd, and of a gentle race. Good breeding and good sense gave all a grace, And whether at the toilette of the fair He laugh'd and trifled, made him welcome there 5 685 Or if in masculine debate he shar'd, Ensur'd him mute attention and regard. * Alas, how chang'd ! Expressive of his mind, His eyes are sunk, arms folded, head reclin'd ; Those awful syllables. Hell, death, and sin, 690 Though whisper'd plainly, tell what works within , That Conscience there performs her proper part, And writes a doomsday sentence on his heart ; Forsaking, and forsaken of all friends. He now perceives where earthly pleasure enda 695 Hard task ! for one who lately knew no care, And harder still as learn'd beneath despair 104 HOPE. His hours no longer pass unmark'd away, A dark importance saddens ev'ry day ; He hears the notice of the clock perplex'd, 700 And cries, Perhaps eternity strikes next } Sweet musick is no longer musick here, And laughter sounds like madness in his ear ; His grief the world of all her pow'r disarms, "Wine has no taste, and beauty has no charms; 705 * God's holy word, once trivial in his view. Now by the voice of his experience true, Seems, as it is, the fountain whence alone Must spring that hope he pants to make his own Now let the bright reverse be known abroad ; 710 Say man's a worm, and pow'r belongs to God. As when a felon, whom liis country's laws Have justly doom'd for some atrocious cause, Expects in darkness and heart chilling fears, The shameful close of all his mispent years ; 715 If chance, on heavy pinions slowly borne, A tempest usher in the dreaded morn. Upon his dungeon walls the lightnings play. The thunder seems to summon him away. The warder at the door his key applies, 720 Shoots back the bolt, and all his courage dies If then, just then, all thoughts of mercy lost, When hope, long ling 'ring, at last yields the ghost. The sound of pardon pierce his startled ear, He drops at once his fetters and his fear ; 725 A transport glows in all he looks and speaks. And the first thankful tears bedev/ his cheeks. Joy, far superiour joy, that much outweighs The comfort of a few poor added days. Invades, possesses, and o'erwhelms the soul 730 Of him, whom Hope has with a touch made whole. 'Tis Heav'n, all Heav'n descending on the wings Of the glad legions of the King of kings ; 'Tis more — 'tis God diffus'd through ev'ry part, Tis God himself triumphant in his heart 735 HOPE. 105 O welcome now the Sun's once hated light His noonday beams were never half so bright. Not kindred minds alone are call'd t' employ Their hours, their days, in hst'ning to his joy ; Unconscious nature all that he surveys, 740 RockS; groves, and streams, must join him in hli praise. These are thy glorious works, eternal Truth, The scoff of wither'd age and beardless youth ; These move the censure and illib'ral gria Of fools that hate thee and delight in sin : 745 But these shall last when night has quenched th« pole, And Heav'n is all departed as a scroll. And when, as Justice has long since decreed, This earth shall blaze, and a new world succeed, Then these thy glorious works, and they who share That hope, which can alone exclude despair, 751 Shall live exempt from weakness and decay. The brightest wonders of an endless day. Happy the bard, (if that fair name belong To him that blends no fable with his song,) 755 Whose lines uniting, by an honest art, The faithful monitor's, and poet's part. Seek to delight, that they may mend mankind, And while they captivate, inform the mind : Still happier, if he till a thankful soil, 760 And fruit reward his honourable toil : ^ But happier far, who comfort those that wait To hear plain truth at Judah's hallow'd gate : Their language simple, as their manners meek ; No shining ornaments have they to seek ; 765 Nor labour they, nor time, nor talents waste. In sorting flow'rs to suit a fickle taste ; But while they speak the wisdom of the skies, Which art can only darken and disguise, Th' abundant harvest, recompense divine, 770 Repays their work — the gleaning only mine. CHARITY. Q^o nViil majus meliusve ieirit Fata doTiavere, bonique divi ; Nee dabuiit, quamvis redeant in aurum Tempora priscum. HoR.lib.iv.Od. 2. FAIREST and foremost of the train, that wait On man's most dignified and happiest state, Whether we name thee Charity or Love, Chief grace below, and all in all above. Prosper, (I press thee with a pow'rful plea,) 5 A task I venture on, impell'd by thee : O never seen but in thy bless'd effects. Or felt but in the soul that Heav'n selects ; Who seeks to praise thee, and to make thee known To other hearts, must have thee in his own. 10 Come, prompt me with benevolent desires, Teach me to kindle at thy gentle fires, And though disgrac'd and slighted, to redeem A poet's name, by making thee the theme. God, working ever on a social plan, lb liy various ties attaches man to man : He riiade at first, though free and unconfin'd, One man the common father of the kind ; That ev'ry tribe, though plac'd as he sees best, Where seas or deserts part them from the rest, 20 CHARITY. 107 Diflfring in language, manners, or in face, Might feel themselves allied to all the race. When Cook — lamented, and with tears as just As ever mingled with heroick dust, Steer'd Britain's oak into a world unknown, 25 And in his country's glory sought his own, Wherever he found man, to nature true. The rights of man were sacred in his view ; He sooth'd with gifts, and greeted with a smile, The simple native of the new-found isle ; 90 He spurn'd the wretch that slighted or withstood T The tender argument of kindred blood, Nor would endure that any should control His freeborn brethren of the southern pole. But though some nobler minds a law respect, 35 That none shall with impunity neglect, In baser souls unnumber'd evils meet. To thwart its influence and its end defeat. While Cook is lov'd for savage lives he sav'd, See Cortez odious for a world enslav'd ! 40 Where wast thou then, sweet Charity ! where then Thou tutelary friend of helpless men ; Wast thou in monkish cells and nunn'ries found, Or building hospitals on English ground ? No. — Mammon makes the world his legatee 45 Through fear, not love : and Heav'n abhors the fee • Wherever found, (and all men need thy care,) Nor age nor infancy could find thee there. The hand that slew till it could slay no more. Was glued to the sword hilt with Indian gore. 50 Their prince, as justly seated on his tlirone. As vain imperial Philip on his own, Trick'd out of all his royalty by art. That stripp'd him bare, and broke his honest heart, Died by the sentence of a shaven priest, 55 For scorning what they taught him^to detest. How dark the veil that intercepts the blaze Of Heav'n's mysterious purposes and ways ; 108 CHARITY. God stood not, though he seem'd to stand, aloof; And at this hour the conqu'ror feels the proof; 60 The wreath he won drew down an instant curse, The fretting plague is in the publick purse, The canker'd spoil corrodes the pining state, Starv'd by that indolence their mines create. O could their ancient Incas rise again, 65 How would they take up Israel's taunting strain ! Art thou too fall'n, Iberia ? Do we see The robber and the murderer weak as we ? Tliou, that hast wasted earth, and dar'd despise Alike the wrath and mercy of the skies, 70 Thy pomp is in the grave, thy glory laid Low in the pits thine avarice has made. We come with joy from our eternal rest. To see th' oppressor in his turn oppressed. Art thou the god, the thunder of whose hand 75 Roird over £l11 our desolated land. Shook principalities and kingdoms down, And made the mountains tremble at his frown ? The sword shall light upon thy boasted pow'rs, And waste them, as thy sword has wasted ours. 80 Tis thus Omnipotence his law fulfils, A.nd Vengeance executes what Justice wills. Again — the band of commerce was design'd T' associate all the branches of mankind ; And if a boundless plenty be the robe, 85 Trade is the golden girdle of the globe. Wise to promote whatever end he means, God opens fruitful nature's various scenes . Each climate needs what other cUmes produce, And offers something to the gen'ral use ; 90 No land but listens to the common call, And in return receives supply from all. This genial intercourse, and mutual aid. Cheers what were else a universal shade. Calls nature from her ivy-mantled den, 95 And softens human rock- work into men. CHARITY. m Ingenious Art, with her expressive face, Steps forth to fashion and refine the race ; Not only fills necessity's demand, But overcharges her capacious hand : 100 Capricious taste itself can crave no more Than she supplies from her abounding store . She strikes out all that luxury can aak, And gains new vigour at her endless task. Her's is the spacious arch, the shapely spire, 105 The painter's pencil, and the poet's lyre ; From her the canvass borrows light and shade, And verse, more Izisting, hues that never fade. She guides the finger o'er the dancing keys. Gives difiiculty all the grace of ease, XIO And pours a torrent of sweet notes around, Fiast as the thirsting ear can drink the sound. These are the gifts of Art, and Art thrives most Where Commerce has enrich'd the busy coast. ,^ j He catches all improvements in his flight, jljjlfi Spreads foreign wonders in his country's siglMft^^j^ -ri Imports what others have invented well, .^^ q And stirs his own to match them, or excel* ^ j^f^ jiO 'Tis thus reciprocating, each with each,,. . . -j-iffto if A Alternately the nations learn and teach; W^ While Providence enjoins to ev'ry soul A union with the vast terraqueous whole. Heav'n speed the canvass, gallantly unfurl'd To furnish and accommodate a world, To give the pole the produce of the sun, 125 And knit th' unsocial climates into one. — Soft airs and gentle heavings of the wave Impel the fleet, whose errand is to save, To succour wasted regions, and replace The smile of Opulence in Sorrow's face. — 130 Let nothing adverse, nothing unforeseen, Impede the bark, that ploughs the deep serene. Charg'd with a freight, transcending in its worth The gems of India, Nature's rarest birth. Vol. I. 10 no CHARITY That flies, like Gabriel on his Lord's commands, 135 A herald of God's love to pagan lands. But ah ! what wish can prosper, or what pray'r, For merchants rich in cargoes of despair, Who drive a loathsome traffick, gauge, and span, And buy the muscles and the bones of man ? 140 The tender ties of father, husband, friend. All bonds of nature in that moment end ; And each endures, while yet he draws his breath, A stroke as fatal as the scythe of death. The sable warriour, frantick with regret 145 Of her he loves, and never can forget, Loses in tears the far-receding shore. But not the thought, that they must meet no more ; Depriv'd of her and freedom at a blow, What has he left, that he can yet forego ? 150 Yes, to deep sadness sullenly resign'd, He feels his body's bondage in his mind ; Puts off his gen'rous nature ; and, to suit His manners with his fate, puts on the brute. O most degrading of all ills, that wait 155 On man, a mourner in his best estate ! All other sorrows Virtue may endure. And find submission more than half a cure , Grief is itself a med'cine, and bestow'd T' improve the fortitude that bears the load, 16y To teach the wand'rer, as his woes increase. The path of Wisdom, all whose paths are peace ; But slav'ry ! — Virtue dreads it as her grave : Patience itself is meanness in a slave ; Or if the will and sov'reignty of God 165 Bid suffer it awhile, and kiss the rod. Wait for the dawning of a brighter day, And snap the chain the moment when you may. Nature imprints upon whate'er we see. That has a heart and life in it, Be free : 170 The beasts are charter'd — neither age nor force Can quell the love of freedom in a horse * CHARITY. Ul He breaks the cord, that held hhn at the rack , And conscious of an unencumber'd back, Snuffs up the morning air, forgets the rein ; 175 Loose fly his forelock and his ample mane ; Responsive to the distant neigh he neighs ; Nor stops till, overleaping all delays. He finds the pasture where his fellows graze. Canst thou, and honour'd with a Christian name, Buy what is woman born, and feel no shame j 181 Trade in the blood of innocence, and plead Expedience as a warrant for the deed ? So may the wolf, whom famine has made bold To quit the forest and invade the fold : 185 So may the ruffian, xmo with ghostly glide, Dagger m hand, steals close to your bedside , Not he, but his emergence, forc'd the door, He found it inconvenient to be poor. Has God then giv'n its sweetness to the cane, 190 Unless his laws be trampled on — in vain ? Built a orave world, which cannot yet subsist, Unless his right to rule it be dismiss'd ? Impudent blasphemy ! So Folly pleads. And Av'rice being judge, with ease succeeds. 195 But grant the plea, and let it stand for just, That man makes man his prey, because he mtist ; Still there is room for pity to abate And sooth the sorrows of so sad a state. A Briton knows, or if he knows it not, 200 The scripture plac'd within his reach, he ought, That souls have no discriminating hue, Alike important in their Maker's view j That none are free from blemish since the fall, And Love divine has paid one price for all. 205 The wretch that works and weeps without relief. Has one that notices his silent grief. He, from whose hands alone all pow'r proceeds, Ranks its abuse among the foulest deeds, 119 CHARITY. Considers all injustice with a frown ; 210 But marks the man, that treads his fellow down Begone — the whip and bell in that hard hand Are hateful ensigns of usurp'd command. Not Mexico could purchase kings a claim To scourge him, weariness his only blame 216 Remember, Heav'n has an avenging rod ; To smite the poor is treason against God. Ti«)uble is grudgingly, and hardly brook'd, While life's sublimest joys are overlooked : We wander o'er a sun-burnt thirsty soil, 220 Murm'ring and weary of our daily toil, Forget t* enjoy the palm-tree's offer'd shade, Or taste the fountain in the neighbouring glade : Else who would lose that had the pow'r to improvo . The occasion of transmuting fear to love .' 225 0 'tis a godlike privilege to save, And he that scorns it is himself a slave. Inform his mind ; one flash of heavenly day Would heal his heart, and melt his chains away. " Beauty for ashes" is a gift indeed, 230 And slaves, by tnith enlarg'd, are doubly freed. Then would he say, submissive at thy feet. While gratitude and love made service sweet, My dear deliv'rer out of hopeless night, Whose bounty bought me but to give me light, 235 1 was a bondman on my native plain. Sin forg'd, and Ignorance made fast the chain , Thy lips have shed instruction as the dew. Taught me what path to shun, and what pursue ; Farewell my former joys ! I sigh no more 240 For Africa's once lov'd, benighted shore ; Serving a benefactor I am free ; At nty best home, if not exiPd from thee. Some men make gain a fountain, whence proceeds A stream of lib'ral and heroick deeds ; 245 The swell of pity, not to be confin'd Within the scanty limits of the mind, CHARITY. 118 Disdains the bank, and throws the golden sands, A rich deposit on the bord'ring lands : These have an ear for his paternal call, 250 Who makes some rich for the supply of all ; God's gift with pleasure in his praise employ ; And Thornton is familiar with the joy. O could I worship aught beneath the skies, That earth has seen, or fancy can devise, 255 Thine altar, sacred Liberty, should stand. Built by no mercenary vulgar hand, With fragrant turf, and flow'rs as wild and fair As ever dress'd a bank, or scented summer air. Duly as ever on the mountain's height 260 The peep of morning shed a dawning light ; Again when Ev'ning in her sober vest Drew the gray curtain of the fading west. My soul should yield thee willing thanks and praise, For the chief blessings of my fairest days : 265 But that were sacrilege — ^praise is not thine. But his who gave thee, and preserves thee mine * Else I would say, and as I spake bid fly A captive bird into the boundless sky. This triple realm adores thee — ^thoa art come 270 From Sparta hither, and art here at home. Wo feel thy force still active, at this hour Enjoy immunity from priestly pow'r. While Conscience, happier than in ancient years, Owns no superiour but the God she fears. 276 Propitious spirit ! yet expunge a wrong Thy rights have suffer'd and our land, too long. Teach mercy to ten thousand hearts, that share The fears and hopes of a commercial care. Prisons expect the wicked, and were built 280 To bind the lawless, and to punish guilt ; But shipwreck, earthquake, battle, fire, and flood, Are mighty mischiefs, not to be withstood ; And honest Merit stands on slipp'ry groimd Whore covert griile and artifice abound 285 10* 114 CHARITY. Let just Restraint, for publick peace designed, Chain up the wolves and tigers of mankind ; The foe of virtue has no claim to thee, But let insolvent Innocence go free. Patron of else the most despis'd of men, 296 Accept the tribute of a stranger's pen ; Verse, like the laurel, its immortal meed. Should be the guerdon of a noble deed ; I may alarm thee, but I fear the shame, (Charity chosen as mj theme and aim,) 295 I must incur, forgetting Howard's name. Bless'd with all wealth can give thee, to resign Joys doubly sweet to feelings quick as thine. To quit the bliss thy rural scenes bestow, To seek a nobler amidst scenes of wo, 300 To traverse seas, range kingdoms, and bring home. Not the proud monuments of Greece or Rome, But knowledge such as only dungeons teach, And only sympathy like thine could reach ; That grief, sequester'd from the publick stage, 305 Might smooth her feathers, and enjoy her cage ; Speaks a divine ambition, and a zeal. The boldest patriot might be proud to feel. O that the voice of clamour and debate. That pleads for peace till it disturbs the state, 310 Were hush'd in favour of thy gen'rous plea, The poor thy clients, and Heav'n's smile thy fee ! Philosophy, that does not dream or stray. Walks arm in arm with Nature all his way : Compasses earth, dives into it, ascends 315 Whatever step Inquiry recommends. Sees planetary wonders smoothly roll Round other systems under her control, Drinks wisdom at the milky stream of light That cheers the silent journey of the night, 320 And brings at his return a bosom charg'd With rich instruction, and a soul enlarg*d CHAEITY. 115 The treasur'd sweets of the capacious plan. That Heav'n spreads wide before the view of mail, All prompt his pleas'd pursuit, and to pursue 325 Still prompt him with a pleasure always new j He too has a connecting pow'r, and draw Man to the centre of the common cause. Aiding a dubious and deficient sight With a new medium and a purer light. 330 All truth is precious, if not all divine ; And what dilates the pow'rs must needs refine. He reads the skies, and, watching ev'ry change, Provides the faculties an ample range ; And wins mankind, as his attempts prevail, " 335 A prouder station on the gen'ral scale. But Reason still, unless divinely taught, Whate'er she learns, learns nothing as she ought , The lamp of revelation only shows. What human wisdom cannot but oppose, 340 That man, in nature's richest mantle clad, And grac'd, with all philosophy can add. Though fair without, and luminous within, Is still the progeny and heir of sin. Thus taught, down falls the plumage of his pride, 345 He feels his need of an unerring guide, And knows that falling he shall rise no more, Unless the pow'r that bade him stand, restore. This is indeed philosophy ; this known Makes wisdom, worthy of the name, his own ; 350 And without this, whatever he discuss, Whether the space between the.stars and us. Whether he measure earth, compute the sea. Weigh sunbeams, carve a fly, or split a flea ; The solemn trifler with his boasted skill 355 Toils much, and is a solemn trifler still : Blind was he born, and his misguided eyes Grown dim in trifling studies, blind he dies. Self-knowledge truly learn'd, of course impliep The rich possession of a nobler prize ; 360 116 CHARITY For self to self, and God to man reveal'd, (Two themes to Nature's eye for ever seal'd,) Are taught by rays, that fly with equal pace From the same centre of enlight'ning grace. Here stay thy foot, how copious, and how clear, 365 Th' o'erflowing well of Charity springs here ! Hark ! 'tis the musick of a thousand rills. Some through the groves, some down the sloping hills, Winding a secret or an open course. And all supphed from an eternal source. 370 The ties of nature do but feebly bind, And Commerce partially reclaims mankind ; Philosophy, without his heavenly guide. May blow up self-conceit, and nourish pride, 'i' But, while liis province is the reas'ning part, 375 Has still a veil of midnight on his heart ; "Tis truth divine, exhibited on earth. Gives Charity her being and her birth. Suppose, (when thought is warm and fancy flows, What will not argument sometimes suppose ?) 380 An isle possess'd by creatures of our kind. Endued with reason, yet by nature blind. Let supposition lend her aid once more, And land some grave optician on the shore : He claps his lens, if haply they may see, 385 Close to the part where vision ought to be ; But finds, that though his tubes assist the sight, They cannot give it, or make darkness light. He reads wise lectures, and describes aloud A sense they know not, to the wond'ring crowd 390 He talks of light, and the prismatick hues, ks men of depth in erudition use ; But all he gains for his harangue is — ^Well, — ^hat monstrous lies some travellers will tell ! The soul, whose sight all-quick ning grace renews. Takes the resemblance of the good she views, 396 \s diamonds stripp'd of their opaque disguise, Reflect the noonday glory of the skies. CHARITY. 117 She speaks of him, her author, guardian, fnend, Whose love knew no beginning, knows no end, 400 In language warm as all that love inspires, And in the glow of her intense desires, Pants to communicate he: noble fires. She sees a world stark blind to what employs Her eager thought, and feeds her flowing joys ; 405 Though wisdom hail thein, heedless of her call, Flies to save some, and feels a pang for all : Herself as weak as her support is strong, She feels that frailty she denied so Jong ; And, from a knowledge of her own disease, 419 Learns to compassionate the sick she sees. Here see, acquitted of all vain pretence, The reign of genuine Charity commence. Though scorn repay her sympathetick tears. She still is kind and still she perseveres ; 415 The truth she loves a sightless world blaspheme, 'Tis childish dotage, a delirious dream. The danger they discern not, they deny ; Laugh at their only remedy, and die. But still a soul thus touch'd can never cease, 420 Whoever threatens war, to speak of peace. Pore in her aim, and in her temper mild. Her wisdom seems the weakness of a child : She makes excuses where she might condemn, Revil'd by those that hate her, prays for them j 425 Suspicion lurks not in her artless breast. The worst suggested, she believes the best ; Not soon provok'd, however stung and teaz'd, And, if perhaps made angry, soon appeas'd ; She rather waves than will dispute her right, 430 And injur'd, makes forgiveness her delight. Such was the portrait an apostle drew. The bright original was one he knew ; Heav'n held his hand, the likeness must be true. When one, that holds communion with the skies, Has fill'd his urn where these pure waters rise, 43tf 118 CHARITY. And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings ; Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, That tells us whence his treasures are supplied. 440 So when a ship, well freighted with the stores The Sun matures on India's spicy shores. Has dropp'd her anchor, and her canvass furl'd, In some safe haven of our western world, 'Twere vain inquiry to what port she went, 445 The gale informe us, laden with the scent. Some seek, when, queasy conscience has its qualms, To lull the painful malady with alms ; But charity not feign'd, intends alone Another's good — theirs' centres in their own ; 450 And too short-liv'd to reach the realms of peace, Must cease for ever when the poor shall cease. Flavia, most tender of her own good name, Is rather careless of her sister's fame : Her superfluity the poor supplies, 455 But, if she touch a character, it dies. The seeming virtue weigh'd against the vice. She deems all safe, for she has paid the price : No charity but alms ought values she, Except in porcelain on her mantle-tree. 460 How many deeds, with which the world has rung, From Pride, in league with Ignorance, have sprung ! But God o'errules all human follies still. And bends the tough materials to his will. A conflagration or a wintry flood, 465 Has left some hundreds without home or food ; Extravagance and Av'rice shall subscribe. While fame and self-complacence are the bril>e. The brief proclaim'd, it visits ev'ry pew, But first the squire's a compliment but due j 470 With slow deliberation he unties His glitt'ring purse, that envy of all eyes, And, while the clerk just puzzles out the psalm, Slides guinea behind guinea in his palm ', CHARITY. 119 Till finding, what he might have found before, 475 A smaller piece amidst the precious store, Pinch'd close between his finger and his thumb, He half exhibits and then drops the sum. Gold to be sure ! — Throughout the town 'tis told How the good squire gives never less than gold. 480 From motives such as his, though not the best, Springs in due time supply for the distress'd ; Not less eflfectual than what love bestows, Except that office clips it as it goes. But lest I seem to sin against a friend, 485 And wound the grace I mean to recommend, (Though vice derided with a just design Implies no trespass against love divine,) Once more I would adopt the graver style, A teacher should be sparing of his smile, 490 Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame ; He hides behind a magisterial air His own offences, and strips others' bare : Affects indeed a most humane concern, 495 That men, if gently tutor'd, will not learn ;*^ ^ Jiiaq u J The mulish Folly, not to be reclaim 'd (not f>Fod ' By softer methods, must be made asham'd ; But, (I might instance in St. Patrick's dean,) Too oflen rails to gratify his spleen. 500 Most sat'rists are indeed a publick scourge : Their mildest physick is a farrier's purge ; Their acid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd. The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, 505 By lean despair upon an empty purse, The wild assassins start into the street, Prepar'd to poniard whomsoe'er they meet. No skill in swordmanship, however just. Can be secure, against a madman's thrust ; 510 And even Virtue, so unfairly match'd, Althoug/i inmiorta], may be prick'd or scratch'd 120 CHARITY. When Scandal has new-minted an cild lie, Or tax'd invention for a fresh supply, 'Tis call'd a satire, and the world appears 615 Gath'ring around it with erected ears: A thousand names are toss'd into the crowd ; Some whisper'd softly,. and some twang'd aloud; Just as the sapience of an author's brain Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain — 520 Strange ? how the frequent interjected dash - Quickens a market, and helps off the trash ; Th' important letters that include the rest, Serve as a key to those that are suppress'd ; Conjecture gripes the victims in his paw, 52S The world is charm'd, and Scrib escapes the law. So, when the cold damp shades of night prevail, Worms may be caught by either head or tail ; Forcibly drawn from many a close/recess, They meet with little pity, no redress ; 530 Plung'd in the stream, they lodge upon thtj^inudy Tood for the famish 'd rovers of the flood. ; All zeal for a reform, that gives offence To peace and charity, is mere pretence ; A bold remark, but wliich if well appUed, 535 Would humble many a tow*ring poet's pride. Perhaps the man was in a sportive fit, And had no other play place for his wit ; Perhaps enchanted with the love of fame, He sought the jewel in his neighbour's fehamo ; 540 Perhaps — whatever end he might pursue, The cause of virtue could not be his view. At ev'ry stroke wit flashes in our eyes ; The turns are quick, the polish'd points surprise, But shine with cruel and tremendous charms, 545 That, while they please, possess us with alarms j So have I seen, (and hasten'd to the sight On all the wings of holiday delight,) Where stands that monument of ancient pow*r, Nara'd with emphatick dignity, the Tow'r, 550 CHARITY. 121 Guns, halberts, swords, and pistols, great and smaU, . In starry forms dispos'd upon the wall ; We wonder, as wo gazing stand below, That brass and steel should make so fine a shOw ; But though we praise th' exatJt designer's skill, 55S Account them implements of mischief still. No works shall find acceptance in that day, When all disguises shall be rent away, That square not truly with the Scripture plan, Nor spring from love to God, or love to man. 560 As he ordains things sordid in their birth To be resolv'd into their parent earth j And though the soul shall seek superiour orbs, Whate'er this world produces it absorbs; So self starts nothing, but what tends apace 565 Home to the goal, where it began the race. Such as our motive is, our aim must be ; If this be servile, that can ne'er be free : If self employ us, whatsoe'er is wrought, We glorify that self, not him we ought ; 570 Such virtues had need prove their own reward, The judge of all men owes thera no regard. True Charity, a plant divinely nurs'd. Fed by the love from which it rose at first. Thrives against hope, and in the rudest scene, 575 Storms but enliven its unfading green , Exub'rant is the shadow it supplies. Its fruit on earth, its growth above the skies. To look at him who form'd us and redeemed, So glorious now, though once so disesteem'd, 580 To see a God stretch forth his human hand, T* uphold the boundless scenes of his command ', To recollect that in a form like ours, He bruis'd beneath his feet th' infernal pow'rs, Captivity led captive, rose to claim 585 The wreath he won so dearly in our name ; That, thron'd above all height, he condescends To call the few that trust in him his friends ; Vol. I. 11 122 CHARITY. That in the heav'n of heav'ns, that space ho deems Too scanty for th' exertion of his beams, 590 And shines as if impatient to bestow Life and a kingdom upon worms below ; That sight imparts a never-dying flame, Though feeble in degree, in kind the same. Like him the soul thus kindled from above 595 Spreads wide her arms of universal love : And, still enlarg'd as she receives the grace, Includes creation in her close embrace. Behold a christian ! — and without the fires The founder of that name alone inspires, 600 Though all accomplishment, all knowledge meet To make the shining prodigy complete. Whoever boasts that name — behold a cheat ! Were love, in these the world's last doting years As frequent as the want of it appears, 605 The churches warm'd, they would no longer hold Such frozen figures, stiff as they are cold ; Relenting forms would lose their pow'r, or cease j And e'en the dipp'd and sprinkled live in peace : Each heart would quit its prison in the breast, 610 And flow in free communion with the rest. The statesman, skill'd in projects dark and deep, Might burn his useless Machiavel, and sleep ; His budget often fill'd, yet always poor. Might swing at ease behind his study door, 615 No longer prey upon our annual rents. Or scare the nation with its big contents . Disbanded legions freely might depart. And slaying man would cease to be an art. No learned disputants would take the field, 620 Sure not to conquer, and sure not to yield j Both sides deceived, if rightly understood, Pelting each other for the publick good. Did charity prevail, the press would prove A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love ; 685 CHARITY. 123 And 1 might spare myself the pains to show What few can learn, and all suppose they know. Thus have I sought to grace a serious lay With many a wild, indeed, but flow'ry spray, In hopes to gain what else I must have lost, 630 Th' attention pleasure has so much engross'd. But if unhappily deceiv'd I dream, And prove too weak for so divine a theme, Let Charity forgive me a mistake, That zeal, not vanity, has chanc'd to make, 636 And spare the poet for his subject's sike. CONVERSATION. Nam neqiu me tantum venientis sibihis austri. Nee percussajuvantjlitctu tarn litoraj luc qu(B Saxosas inter decuirant Jlumina inlles. _ , ^ ViRG. Eel. 6. THOUGH nature weigh our talents, and dispense Co ev'ry man his modicum of sense, A.nd Conversation in its better part May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art, Yet much depends, as in the tiller's toil, 6 On culture and the sowing of the soil. Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse, But talking is not always to converse ; Not m»re distinct from harmony divine. The constant creaking of a country sign. 10 As Alphabets in ivory employ, Hour after hour, the yet unlettered boy. Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee Those seeds of science, callod his A B C ; So language in the mouths of the adult, 15 Witness its insignificant result. Too often proves an implement of play, A toy to sport with, and pass time away. Collect at evening what the day brought forth, Compress the sum into its solid worth, 20 CONVERSATION. 125 And if it weigh the importance of a fly, The scales are false, or algebra a lie, Sacred interpreter of human thought, How few respect or use thee as they ought ! But all shall give account of ev'ry wrong, 25 Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue ; Who prostitute it in the caus6 of vice. Or sell their glory at the market price ; Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon, The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon. 30 There is a prurience in the speech of some. Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb His wise forbearance has their end in view, They fill their measure, and receive their due. The heathen lawgivers of ancient days, 35 Names almost worthy of a Christian's praise, Would drive them forth from the resort of men, And shut up ev'ry satyr in his den. O come not ye near innocence and truth, Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth ; 40 Infectious as impure, your blighting pow'r Taints in its rudiments the promis'd flow*r; Its odour perish'd, and its charming hue, Thenceforth 'tis hateful, for it smells of you. Not e'en the vigorous and headlong rage 45 Of adolescence, or a firmer age, Affords a plea allowable or just, For making speech the pampercr of lust ; But when the breath of age commits the fault, *Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault. 50 So wither'd stumps disgrace the sylvan scene, No longer fruitful, and no longer green ; The sapless wood, divested of the bark, Grows fungous, and takes fire at every spark. Oaths terminate, as Paul observes, all strife— 55 Some men have surely then a peaceful life : Whatever subject occupy discourse, The feats of Vestris, or the naval force, 11 ♦ 126 ^CONVERSATION. Asseveration blustering in your face Makes contradiction such a hopeless xsase : ^60 In ev'ry tale they tell, or false, or true, Well known, or such as no man ever knew, They fix attention, heedless of your pain, With oaths like rivets forc'd into the brain ; And e'en when sober truth prevails throughout, 65 They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt. A Persian, humble servant of the sun, Who, though devout, yet bigotry had none, Hearing a lawyer, grave in his address, With adjurations ev'ry word impress, 70 Suppos'd the man a bishop, or at least, God's name so much upon his lips, a priest ! Bow'd at the close with all his graceful airs, And begg'd an interest in his frequent pray'rs. Go quit the rank to which ye stood preferr'd, 75 Henceforth associate in one common herd ; Religion, virtue, reason, common sense. Pronounce your human form a false pretence ; A mere disguise, in which a devil lurks. Who yet betrays his secret by his works. 80 Ye pow'rs who rule the tongue, if such there are, And make colloquial happiness your care. Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate, A duel in the form of a debate, The clash of arguments and jar of words, 85 Worse than the mortal brunt of rival swords. Decide no question with their tedious length, (For opposition gives opinion strength) Divert the champions prodigal of breath. And put the peaceably dispos'd to death. 90 0 thwart me not. Sir Soph, at ev'ry turn. Nor carp at ev'ry flaw you may discern ; Though syllogisms hang not on my tongue, 1 am not surely always in the wrong : 'Tis hard if all is false that I advance, 95 A fool must now and then be right by chance. CONVERSATION. Ifi7 Not all that freedom of dissent 1 blame j No — there I grant the privilege I claim. A disputable point, is no man's ground ; Rove where you please, 'tis common all around. 100 Discourse may want an animated — No, To brush the surface, and to make it flow ; But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease, The mark at which my juster aim I take, 105 Is contradiction for its own dear sake. Set your opinion at whatever pitch, Knots and impediments make something hitch , Adopt his own, tis equally in vain, Your thread of argument is snapp'd again ; 110 The wrangler, rather than accord with you, Will judge himself deceiv'd, and prove it too. Vociferated logick kills me quite, A noisy man is always in the right — I twirl my thumbs, fall back into my chair, 115 Fix on the wainscoat a distressful stare, And when I hope his blimders are all out, , Reply discreetly — To be sure — no doubt ! Dubious is such a scrupulous good man — Yes — ^you may catch him tripping, if you can. 120 He would not with a peremptory tone, Assert the nose upon his face his own ; With hesitation admirably slow, He humbly hopes — presumes — it may be so. His evidence, if he were call'd by law 125 To swear to some enormity he saw. For want of prominence and just relief, Would hang an honest man, and save a thief. Through constant dread of giving truth offence, He ties up all his hearers in suspense ; 13(? Knows what he knows, as if he knew it not ; Wliat he remembers, seems to have forgot *. His sole opinion, whatsoe'er befall, Centering at last in having none at all 128 CONVERSATION. Yet, though ho tease and balk your list'ning ear, 135 He makes one useful point exceeding clear ; Howe'er ingenious on his darling theme A sceptick in philosophy may seem, Reduc'd to practice, his beloved rule Would only prove him a consummate fool : 140 Useless in him alike both brain and speech, Fate having plac'd all truth above liis reach, His ambiguities his total sum, He might as well be blind, and deaf, and dumb. Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, 145 The positive pronounce without dismay ; Their want of light and intellect supplied By sparks absurdity strikes out of pride. Without the means of knowing right from wrong, They always are decisive, clear, and strong; 150 Where others toil with philosophick force. Their nimble nonsense takes a shorter course ; Flings at your head conviction in the lump. And gains remote conclusions at a jump : Their own defect invisible to them, 155 Seen in another, they at once condemn ; And, though self-idolized in ev'ry case, Hate their own likeness in a brother's face. The cause is plain, and not to be denied, The proud are always most provok'd by pride, 160 Few competitions but engender spite ; And those the most, where neither has a right. TJie point of honour has been deem'd of use, To teach good manners and to curb abuse ; Admit it true, the consequence is clear, 165 Our polish'd manners are a mask we wear, And, at the bottom barb'rous still and rude, We are restrain'd, indeed, but not subdu'd. The very remedy, however sure, Springs from the mischief it intends to cure, 170 And savage in its principle appears, Tried as it should be, by the fruit it bears CONVERSATION. 129 *Ti3 hard, indeed if nothing will defend Mankind from quarrels but their fatal end ; That now and then a hero must decease, 175 That the surviving world may live in peace. Perhaps at last close scrutiny may show The practice dastardly, and mean, and low ; That men engage in it compelPd by forcOj And fear, not courage, is its proper source, 180 The fear of tyrant custom, and the fear Lest fops should censure us, and fools should sneer. At least to trample on our Maker's laws, And hazard life for any or no cause, To rush into a fix'd eternal state 185 Out of the very flames of rage and hate. Or send another shiv'ring to the bar With all the guilt of such unnatural war, Whatever Use may urge, or Honour plead. On Reason's verdict is a madman's deed. J 90 Am I to set my life upon a throw, Because a bear is rude, and surly ? No — A moral, sensible, and well-bred man Will not aflfront mo ; and no other can. Were I empowered to regulate the lists, 195 They should encounter with well-loaded fists I A Trojan combat would be somethmg r..ew. Let Dares beat Entellus black ana biue ; Then each might show, to his admirmg friendS; In honourable bumps his rich amends, 200 And carry in contusions of his skull, A satisfactory receipt in full A story, in which native humour telgne. Is often useful, always entertains : A graver fact, enlisted on your side, -205 May furnish illustration, well applied ; But sedentary weavers of long tales Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails. *Tis the most asinine employ on earth, To hear them tell of parentage and birth, 210 130 CONVERSATION. And echo conversations, dull and dry, Embellished with — He said, and So said /. At ev'ry interview their route the same, The repetition makes attention lame : We bustle up with unsuccessful speed, 215 And in the saddest part cry — Droll indeed The path of narrative with care pursue, Still making probabiUty your clew ; On all the vestiges of truth attend. And let them guide you to a decent end. 220 Of all ambitions man may entertain, The worst, that can invade a sickly brain, Is that, which angles hourly for surprise. And baits its hook with prodigies and lies. Credulous infancy, or age as weak, 225 Are fittest auditors for such to seek. Who to please others will themselves disgrace, Yet please not, but affront you to your face. A great retailer of this curious ware Having unloaded and made many stare, 230 Can this be true ? — an arch observer cries. Yes, (rather mov'd) I saw it with these eyes ; Sir ! I believe it on that ground alone ; I could not, had I seen it with my own. A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct ; 235 The language plain, and incidents well link'd , Tell not as new what ev'ry body knows, And, new or old, still hasten to a close ; There, cent'ring in a focus round and neat, Let all your rays of information meet. 240 What neither yields us profit nor delight Is like a nurse's lullaby at night ; Guy, Earl of Warwick and fair Eleanor, Or giant-killing Jack, would please me more. The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, 245 Makes half a sentence at a time enough ; The dozing sages drop the drowsy strain. Then pause, and puff— and speak, and pause again. CONVERSATION. I^i' <Such often, like the tube they so admire, Impoftant triflers .' have more smoke than fire. 250 Pernicious weed ! whose scent the fair annoys ; Unfriendly to society's chief joys, Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex, whose presence civilizes ours : Thou art indeed the drug a gard'ner wants, 255 To poison vermin that infest his plants ; But are we so to wit and beauty blind, As to despise the glory of our kind, And show the softest minds and fairest forms As little mercy, as ho grubs and worms ? 260 They dare not wait the riotous abuse, Thy thirst-creating steams at length produce. When wine has giv*n indecent language birth, And forc'd the floodgates of licentious mirth ; For sea-born Venus her attachment shows 265 Still to that element from which she rose. And with a quiet, which no fumes disturb, Sips meek infusions of a milder herb. Th' emphatick speaker dearly loves t' oppose, In contact inconvenient, nose to nose, 870 As if the gnomon on his neighbour's phiz, Touch'd with a magnet had attracted his. His whisper'd theme, dilated and at large, Proves after all a wind-gun's airy charge, An extract of his diary — ^no more, 275 A tasteless journal of the day before. Ho walk'd abroad, o'ertaken in the rain, Call'd on a friend, drank tea, stepp'd home again, Resum'd his purpose, had a world of talk With one he stumbled on, and lost his walk. 280 I interrupt him with a sudden bow. Adieu, dear Sir, lest you should lose it now. I cannot talk with civet in the room, A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume ; The sight's enotigh — no need to smell a beau — 285 Who thrusts hii; nose into a raree show ? 132 CONVERSATION. His odoriferous attempts to please Perhaps might prosper with a swarm of bees ; * But we that make no honey, though we sting, Poets are sometimes apt to maul the thing, 290 'Tis wrong to bring into a mix'd resort, What make some sick, and others d. la mort. An argument of cogence, we may say, Why such a one should keep himself away. A graver coxcomb we may sometimes see, 295 Quite as absurd, though not so light as he.; A shallow brain behind a serious mask^ An oracle within an empty cask, The solemn fop ; significant and budge j A fool with judges,. amongst fools a judge ', 300 He says but little, and that little said Owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead. His wit invites you by his looks to come. But when you knock it never is at home ; 'Tis like a parcel sent you by the stage, 305 Some handsome present, as your hopes presage ; 'Tis heavy, bulky, and bids fair to prove An absent friend's fidelity and love ; * But when unpack'd your disappointment groans To find it stulTd with brickbats, earth, and stones. 310 Some men employ their health, an ugly trick, In making known how oft they have been sick, And give us in recitals of disease A doctor's trouble, but without the fees ; Relate how many weeks they kept their bed ; 315 1 How an emetick or cathartick sped ; Nothing is slightly touch'd, much less forgot, Nose, ears, and eyes, seem present on the spot. Now the distemper, spite of draught or pill, Victorious seem'd, and now the doctor's skill ; "^0 And now — alas, for lonforeseen mishaps ' They put on a dsjup nightcap and relapse ; They thought thoy must have died, they were; so bad; Their peevish hearers almost wish they had. CONVERSATION. 133 Some fretful tempers wince at ev'ry touchy 325 You always do too little or too much ; You speak with life, in hopes to entertain, Your elevated voice goes through the brain ; You fall at once into a lower key, That's worse — the dronepipe of an humblebee. 330 The southern sash admits too strong a light, You rise and drop the curtain — now 'tis night. He shakes with cold — ^you stiJ: the fire and striire To make a blaze — ^that's roastmg him alive. Serve him with venison, and he chooses fish ; 335 With seal — that's just the sort he would not wish. He takes what he at first profess'd to loathe, And in due time feeds heartily on both ; Yet still o'erclouded with a constant frown, He does not swallow, but he gulps it down. 340 Your hope to please him vain on ev*ry plan. Himself should work that wonder, if he can — Alas ! his efforts double his distress, He likes yours little, and his own still less. Thus always teazing others, always teaz'd, 345 His only pleasure is — to be displeas'd. I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn, and undeperv'd disdain, And bear the marks, upon a blushing faCe, Of needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace. 350 Our sensibilities are so acute. The fear of being silent makes us mute. We sometimes think we could a speech produce Much to the purpose, if our tongues were loose ; But being tried, it dies upon the lip, 35ft Faint as a chicken's note that has the pip : Our wasted oil unprofitably burns. Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns, Few Frenchmen of this evil have complain'd ; It seems as if we Britons were ordain 'd, 360 By way of wholesome curb upon our pride, To fear each other, fearing none beside. Vol. I. 12 134 CONVERSATION. The cause perhaps inquiry may descry, Self-searching with an introverted eye, Conceal'd within an unsuspected part, 365 The vainest corner of our own vain heart : For ever aiming at the world s esteem, Our self-importance ruins its own scheme ; In other eyes our talents rarely shown, Become at length so splendid in our own, 370 We dare not risk them into publick view. Lest they miscarry of what seems their due. True modesty is a discerning grace, And only blushes in the proper place ; But counterfeit is blind, and skulks through fear, 375 Where 'tis a shame to be asham'd t' appear ; Humility the parent of the first, The last by vanity produc'd and nurs'd. The circle form'd, we sit in silent state, Like figures drawn upon a dial plate ; 380 Yes, ma'am, and No, ma'am, utter'd softly, show Ev'ry five minutes how the minutes go ; Each individual, sufTring a constraint. Poetry may, but colours cannot paint ; As if in close committee on the sky, 385 Reports it hot or cold, or wot or dry ; And finds a changing clime a happy source Of wise reflection, and well-tim'd discourse. We next inquire, but softly and by stealth, Like conservators of the publick health, 390 Of epidemick throats, if such there are. And coughs, and rheums, and phthisicks, and catarrh That theme exhausted, a wide chasm ensues, Fill'd up at last with interesting news, Who danc'd with whom, and who are like to wed, 395 And who is hang'd, and who is brought to bed ; But fear to call a more important cause, As if 'twere treason against English laws. The visit paid, with ecstasy we come. As from a seven years' transportation home, 400 CONVERSATION. 135 And there resume an unembarrass'd brow, Recov'ring what we lost we know not how, The faculties, that seem'd reduc'd to nought, Expression and the privilege of thought. The reeking, roaring hero of the chase, 405 1 give him over as a desp'rate case. Physicians write in hopes to work a cure. Never, if honest ones, when death is sure ; And though the fox he follows may be tam'd, A mere fox follower never is reclaim'd. 410 Some farrier should prescribe his proper course, Whose only fit companion is his horse ; Or if deserving of a better doom. The noble beast judge otherwise, his groom. Yet e'^ the rogue that serves him, tho' he stand 415 To take his honour's orders, cap in hand, Prefers his fellow grooms with much good sense. Their skill a truth, his master's a pretence. If neither horse nor groom affect the squire, Where can at last liis jockey ship retire ? 420 Oh to the club, the scene of savage joys, The school of coarse good fellowship and noise ; There in the sweet society of those Whose friendship from his boyish'years he ohose, Let him improve his talent if he can, 425 Till none but beasts acknowledge him a man. Man's heart had been impenetrably seal'd. Like theirs that cleave the flood or graze the field, Had not his Maker's all-bestowing hand Giv'n him a soul, and bade him imderstand ; 430 The reas'ning pow'r vouchsard of course inferr'd The pow'r to clothe that reason with his word ; For all is perfect that God works on earth. And he that gives conception, aids the birth. If this be plain, 'tis plainly understood, 435 What uses of his boon the giver would. The mind despatch'd upon her busy toil, Should range where Providence has bless'd the soil ; 136 CONVERSATION. Visiting ev'ry flow'r with labour meet, And gath'ring all her treasures sweet by sweet j 440 She should imbue the tongue with what she sips, And shed the balmy blessing on the lips, That good difFus'd may more abundant grow, And speech may praise the pow'r that bids it flow. Will the sweet warbler of the livelong night, 445 That fills the list'ning lover with delight, Forget his harmony, with rapture heard. To learn the twitt'ring of a meaner bird ? Or make the parrot's mimickry his choice, That odious libel on a human voice ? 450 No — Nature, unsophisticate by man. Starts not aside from her Creator's plan ; The melody, that was at first design'd ^ To cheer the rude forefathers of mankind, Is note for note deliver'd in our ears, 455 In the last scene of her six thousand years. Yet Fashion, leader of a chatt'ring train, Whom man for his own hurt permits to reign. Who shifts and changes all things but his shape, And would degrade her votary to an ape, 460 The fruitful parent of abuse and wrong, Holds a usttrp'd dominion o'er his tongue ; There sits and prompts him with his own disgrace, Prescribes the theme, the tone, and the grimace. And, when accomplish'd in her wayward school, 465 Calls gentleman whom she has made a fool. *Tis an unalterable fix'd decree, That none could frame or ratify but she, That Heav'n and Hell, and righteousness and sin Snares in his path, and foes that lurk witliin, 470 God and his attributes, (a field of day Where 'tis an angel's happiness to stray,) Fruits of his love and wonders of his might, Be never nam'd in ears esteem'd polite. That he who dares, when she forbids, be grave, 475 Shall stand proscrib'd, a madman, or a knave, CONVERSATION. 137 A close designer not to be believ'd, Or, if excus'd that charge, at least deceiv'd. Oh folly worthy of the nurse's lap, Give it the breast, or stop its mouth with pap t 480 Is it incredible, or can it seem A dream to any, except those that dream, That man should love his Maker, and that fire, Warming his heart, should at his lips transpire : Know then, and modestly let fall your eyes, 485 And veil your daring crest that braves the skieh , That air of insolence affronts your God, You need his pardon, and provoke his rod : Now, in a posture that becomes you more Than that heroick strut assum'd before, 490 Know your arrears with ev'ry hour accrue For mercy shown, while wrath is justly due. The time is short, and there are souls on earth, Though future pain may serve for present mirth, Acquainted with the woes, that fear or shame, 495 By Fashion taught, forbade them once to name, And having felt the pangs you deem a jest, Have prov'd them truths too big to be express 'd. Go seek on revelation's hallow'd ground. Sure to succeed, the remedy they found ; 500 Touch'd by that pow'r that you have dar'd to mock, That makes seas stable, and dissolves the rock, Your heart shall yield a hfe-renewing stream. That fools, as you have done, shall call a dream. It happen'd on a solemn eventide, J>05 Soon after He that was our Surety died. Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd, The scene of all those sorrows left behind, Sought their own village, busied as they went In musings worthy of the great event : 510 They spake of him they lov'd, of Iiim whose life, Though blameless, had incurr'd perpetual strife. Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, A deeo memorial graven on their hearts. 12 » 138 CONVERSATION. The recollection, like a vein of ore 5L& The farther trac'd, enrich'd them still the more , They thought him, and they justly thought him, one Sent to do more than he appear'd t' have done ; T' exalt a people, and to place them high Above all else, and wonder'd he sliould die. 520 Ere yet they brought their journey to an end, A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend, And ask'd them, with a kind engaging air, What their affliction was, and begg'd a share. Inform 'd, he gather 'd up the broken thread, 525 And truth and wisdom gracing aH he said, Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so well The tender theme on which they chose to dwell, That reaching home, the night, they said, is near, We must not now be parted, sojourn here. 530 The new acquaintance soon became a guest, And, made so welcome at their simple feast, He bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word, And left them both exclaiming, 'Twas the Lord !" Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say — 535 Did they not burn within us by the way ? Now theirs was converse, such as it behoves Man to maintain, and such as God approves ; Their view, indeed were indistinct and dim, But yet successful being aim'd at him. 540 Christ and liis character their only scope. Their object, and their subject, and their hope. They felt what it became them much to feel. And wanting him to loose the sacred seal, Found him as prompt, as their desire was true, 545 To spread the new-born glories in their view. Well — what are ages and the lapse of time Match'd against truths as lasting as sublime ^ Can length of years on God himself exact ? Or make that fiction, which was once a fact ? 650 No— marble and recording brass decay. And like the graver's mem'ry pass away ; CONVERSATION. 139 The works of man inherit, as is just, Their author's frailty, and return to dust ; But truth divine for ever stands secure, 555 Its head is guarded as its base is sure ; Fix'd in the rolling flood of endless years, The pillar of th' eternal plan appears, The raving storm and dashing waves defies, Built by that architect who built the skies. 560 Hearts may be found that harbour, at this hour. That love of Christ and all its quick'ning pow'r ; And lips, unstain'd by folly or by strife, Whose wisdom drawn from the deep well of life. Tastes of its healthful origin, and flows 565 A Jordan for th* ablution of our woes. O days of Heav'n, and nights of equal pr^iise, Serene and peaceful as those heavenly days, When souls drawn upwards in communion sweety Enjoy the stillness of some close retreat, 670 Discourse, as if releas'd and safe at home, Of dangers pass'd, and wonders yet to come^ And spread the sacred treasures of the breast Upon the lap of covenanted rest. What, always dreaming over heavenly things, 575 Like angel heads in stone with pigeon wings r Canting and whining out all day the word. And half the night ? fanatick and absurd ! Mine be the friend less frequent in his pray'rs. Who makes no bustle with his soul's affairs, 580 Whose wit can brighten up a wintry day. And chase the splenetick dull hours away ; Content on earth in earthly things to shdne. Who waits for Heav'n ere he becomes divine, Leaves saints t' enjoy those altitudes they teach, 585 And plucks the fruit plac'd more within his reach. Well spoken. Advocate of sin and shame, Known by thy bleating. Ignorance thy name. Is sparkling wit the world's exclusive right. The fix'd fee simple of the vain and light ? 690 140 CONVERSATION. Can hopes of Heav'n, bright prospects of an hour. That come to waft us out of sorrow's pow'r, Obscure or quench a faculty that finds Its happiest soil in the serenest minds ? Religion curbs indeed its wanton play, 595 And brings the trifler under rig'rous sway, But gives it usefulness unknown before, And, purifying, makes it shine the more. A Christian's wit is inoffensive light, A beam that aids, but never grieves the sight ; 600 Vig'rous in age as in the flush of youth, 'Tis always active on the side of truth : Temp'rance and peace insure its healthful state, And make it brightest at its latest date. Oh I have seen, (nor hope perhaps in vain, 605 Ere life go down, to see such sights again,) A vet'ran warriour in the Christian field, Who never saw the sword he could not wield j Grave, without dulness, learned without pride, Exact, yet not precise ; though meek, keen-ey'd ; 610 A man that would have foil'd at their own play A dozen would-be 's of the modern day ; Who, Jivhen occasion justified its use, Had wit as bright as ready to produce ; Could fetch from records of an earlier age, 615 Or from philosophy's enlighten'd page. His rich materials, and regale your ear With strains it was a privilege to hear : Yet aboie all, his luxury supreme, And his chief glory, was the Gospel theme ; 620 There he was copious as old Greece or Rome, His happy eloquence seem'd there at home. Ambitious not to shine or to excel. But to treat justly what he lov'd so well. It moves me more perhaps than folly ought, 625 When some green heads, as void of wit as thought, Suppose themselves monopolists of sense, And wiser men's ability pretence. CONVERSATION. 141 Though time still wear us, and we must grow old, Such men are not forgot as soon as cold, 630 Their fragrant memory will outlast their tomb^ Embalm'd for ever in its own perfume. And to say truth, though in its early prime, And when unstain'd with any grosser crime^ Youth has a sprightliness and fire to boast, G2^ That in the valley of decline are lost, And Virtue with peculiar charms appears, Crown'd with the garland of life's blooming years ; Yet age, by long experience well inform'd, Well read, well temper'd, with religion warm'd, 640 That fire abated, which impels rash youth, Proud of his speed to overshoot the truth, As time improves the grape's authentick juice, Mellows and makes the speech more fit for use, And claims a rev'rence in its short 'ning day, 645 That 'tis an honour and a joy to pay. The fruits of age less fair, are yet more sound. Than those a brighter season pours around ; And like the stores autumnal suns mature, Through wintry rigours unimpair'd endure 650 What is fanatick phrcnzy, scorn'd so much, And dreaded more than a contagious touch ? I grant it dajig'rous, and approve your fear. That fire is catching if you draw too near ; But sage observers oft mistake the flame, 665 And give true piety that odious name. To tremble, (as the creature of an hour Ought at the view of an almighty pow'r,) Before his presence, at whose awful throne All tremble in all worlds, except our own, 660 To supplicate his mercy, love his ways. And prize them above pleasure, wealth, os praiae, Though common sense, allow'd a casting voice, And free from bias, must approve the choice, Convicts a man fanatick in th' extreme, 665 And wild as madness in the world's esteem. 142 CONVERSATION. But that disease, when soberly defin'd, Is the false fire of an o'erheated mind: It views the truth with a distorted eye, And either warps or lays it useless by ; 670 'Tis narrow, selfish, arrogant, and draws Its sordid nourishment from man's applause , And while at heart sin unrelinquish'd lies, Presumes itself chief fav'rite of the skies. 'Tis such a light as putrefaction breeds 675 In fly-blown flesh, whereon the maggot feeds, Shines in the dark, but usher'd into day, The stench remains, the lustre dies away. True bliss, if man may reach it, is compos*d Of hearts in union mutually disclosed : 680 And, farewell else all hope of pure delight. Those hearts should be reclaim'd, renew'd, upright* Bad men, profaning friendship's hallow'd name, Form, in its stead, a covenant of shame : A dark confederacy against the laws 685 Of virtue and religion's glorious cause : They build each other up with dreadful skill, As bastions set point blank against God's will ; Enlarge and fortify the dread redoubt. Deeply resolv'd to shut a Saviour out ; 690 Call legions up from Hell to back the deed, And, curs'd with conquest, finally succeed. But souls that carry on a bless'd exchange Of joys they meet with in their heav'nly range, And with a fearless confidence make known 695 The sorrows sympathy esteems its own, Daily derive increasing light and force From such communion in their pleasant cotirse, Feel less the journey's roughness ana its length, - Meet their opposers with united strength, 700 And, one in heart, in int'rest, and design, Gird up each other to the race divine. But Conversation, choose what theme we may. And chiefly when religion leads the way. CONVERSATION. 143 Should flow like waters after summer showers, 705 Not as if rais'd by mere mechanick pow'rs. The Christian, in whose soul, though now distress'd, Lives the dear thought of joys he once possess'd, When all his glowing language issu'd forth With God's deep stamp upon its current worth, 710 Will speak without disguise, and must impart, Sad as it is, his imdissembling heart, Abhors constraint, and dares not feign a zeal, Or seem to boast a fire he does not feel. The song of Sion is a tasteless thing, 715 Unless, when rising on a joyful wing, The soul can mix with the celestial bands, And give the strain the compass it demands. Strange tidings these to tell a world who treat AH but their own experience as deceit ! 720 Will they believe, though credulous enough To swallow much upon much weaker proof, That there are bless'd inliabitants on earth, Partakers of a new ethereal birth, Their hopes, desires, and purposes estrang'd 725 From things terrestrial and divinely chang'd, Their very language of a kind that speaks The soul's sure int'rest in the good she seeks ; Who deal with Scripture, its importance felt As Tully with philosophy once dealt, 730 And in the silent watches of the night, And through the scenes of toil-renewing light, The social walk, or soUtary ride. Keep still the dear companion at their side ? No — shame upon a self-disgracing age, 735 God's work may serve an ape upon a stage With such a jest, as fiU'd with helUsh glee Certain invisibles as shrewd as he ; But veneration or respect finds none. Save from the subject of that work alone. 740 The world grown old, her deep discernment shows, Claps spectacles on her sagacious nose, 144 CONVERSATION. Peruses closely the true Christian's facej^'if wo% hlooi^ And finds it a mere mask of sly grimace ; ' -' — - ' Usurps God's office, lays his bosom bare, 745 And finds hypocrisy close lurking there. And serving God herself througli mere constraint| Concludes his unfeign'd love of him a feint. And yet God knows, look human nature through, (And in due time the world shall know it too,) 760 That since the flow'rs of Eden felt the blast, That after man's defection laid all waste, JSincerity tow'rds the heart-searching God Has made the new-born creature her abode. Nor shall be found in unregen'rate souls, 755 Till the last fire burn all between the poles. Sincerity ! why 'tis his only pride, Weak and imperfect in all grace beside j He knows that God demands his heart entire, And gives him all liis just demands require. 760 Without it his pretensions were as vain, As, having it, he deems the world's disdain ; That great defect would cost him not alone Man's favourable judgment, but his own ; His birthright shaken, and no longer clear 765 Than while his conduct proves his heart sincere. Retort the charge, and let the world be told She boasts a confidence she does not hold ; That, conscious of her crimes, she feels instead A cold misgiving, and a killing dread : 770 That while in health the ground of her support Is madly to forget that life is short ; That sick she trembles, knowing she must die. Her hope presumption, and her faith a lie ; That while she dotes, and dreams that she believes, She mocks her Maker, and herself deceives ; 776 Her utmost reach historical absent, The doctrines warp'd to what they never meant ; That truth itself is in her head as dull And useless as a candle in a skull ; , 780 CONVERSATION. 145 And all her love of God a groundless claim, A trick upon the canvass, painted flame. Tell her again, the sneer upon her face, And all her censures of the work of grace, A re insincere, meant only to conceal 785 A dread she would not, yet is forc'd to feel ; That in her heart the Christian she reveres, And while she seems to scorn him, only fears. A poet does not work by square or line, As smiths and joiners perfect a design ; 790 At least we moderns, our attention less. Beyond the example of our sires digress. And claim a right to scamper and run wide, Wherever chance, caprice, or fancy guide. The world and 1 fortuitously met ; 795 1 ow'd a trifle, and have paid the debt ; She did me wrong, I recompens'd the deed, And having struck the balance, now proceed. Perhaps, however, as some years have pass*d Since she and I convers'd together last, 800 And I have liv'd recluse in rural shades, Which seldom a distinct report pervades, Great changes and new manners have occt$rr*d. And bless'd reforms, that I have never heard, And she may now be as discreet and wise 805 As once absurd in all discerning eyes. Sobriety, perhaps, may now be found Where once intoxication press'd the ground : The subtle and injurious may be just, And he grown chaste that was the slave of luist ; 810 Arts once esteem'd may be with shame dismiss'd ; Charity may relax the miser's fist ; The gamester may have cast his cards away, Forgot to curse and only kneel to pray. It has indeed been told me, (with what weight, 815 How credibly, 'tis hard for me to state,) That fables old, that seem'd for ever mute. Revived are hast'ning into fresh repute, Vol. I. 13 146 CONVERSATION. And gods and goddesses, discarded long Like useless lumber, or a stroller's song, 820 Are bringing into vogue their heathen train, And Jupiter bids fair to rule again ; That certain feasts are instituted now, Where Venus hears the lovers' tender vow ; That all Olympus through the country roves, 825 To consecrate our few remaining groves ; And Echo learns politely to repeat The praise of names for ages obsolete ; That having prov'd the weakness, it should seem Of revelation's ineffectual beam, 830 To bring the passions under sober sway, And give the moral springs their proper play, They mean to try what may at last be done, By stout substantial gods of wood and stone, And whether Roman rites may not produce 835 The virtues of old Rome for English use. May such success attend the pious plan^ May Mercury once more embellish man, Grace him again with long forgotten arts. Reclaim his taste, and brighten up his parts, 840 Make him athletick as in days of old, Learn'd at the bar, in the peloBstra bold, Divest the rougher sex of female airs. And teach the softer not to copy theirs : The change shall please, nor shall it matter aught Who works the wonder, if it be but wrought. 846 'Tis time, however, if the case stand'thus. For us plain folks, and all who side with us. To build our altar, confident and bold. And say as stern Elijah said of old, 850 The strife now stands upon a fair award, If Israel's Lord be God, then serve the Lord If he be silent, faith is all a whim, Then Baal is the God, and worship him. Digression is so much in modern use, 855 Thought is so rare, and fancy so profuse, CONVERSATION. 147 Some never seem so wide of their intent, As when returning to the theme they meant ; As mendicants, whose business is to roam, Make every parish but their own their home. 860 Though such continual zigzags in a book, Such drunken reelings have an awkward look, And I had rather creep to what is true, Than rove and stagger with no mark in view ; Yet to consult a little seem'd no crime, 865 The freakish humour of the present time : But now to gather up what seems dispers'd^ And tpuch the subject I design'd at first, May prove, though much beside the rules of art Best for the publick, and my wisest part. 870 And first, let no man charge me, that I mean To clothe in sable ev'ry social scene. And give good company a face severe. As if they met around a father's bier ; For tell some men, that pleasure all their bent, 875 And laughter all their work, is life mispent ; Their wisdom bursts into this sage reply, Then mirth is sin, and we should always cfy. To find the medium asks some share of wit, And therefore 'tis a mark fools never hit. 880 But though life's valley be a vale of tears, A brighter scene beyond that vale appears, Whose glory with a light that never fades, Shoots between scatter'd rocks and opening shadei. And while it shows the land the soul desires, 885 The language of the land she seeks inspires. Thus touch'd, the tongue receives a sacred cure Of all that was absurd, profane, impure ; Held within modest bounds, the tide of speech Pursues the course that truth and nature teach ; 890 No longer labours merely to produce The pomp of sound or tinkle without use ; Where'er it winds, the salutary stream. Sprightly and fresh, enriches every thome, 148 CONVERSATION. While all the happy man possess'd before, 896 The gift of nature or the classick store, Is made subservient to the grand design For which Heav'n form'd the faculty divine. So, should an idiot, virhile at large he strays, Find the sweet lyre on which an artist plays, 900 "With rash and awkward force the chords he shakes, And grins with wonder at the jar he makes ; But let the wise and well-instructed hand Once take the shell beneath his just command, In gentle sounds it seem'd as it complain'd 906 Of the rude injuries it late sustain'd, Vill tun'd at length to some immortal song. It lounds Jehovah's name, and pours his praise alo^g. RETIREMENT. studiisjlorens ignobilis ott, ViRG. Georg. Lib. 4. HACKNET'D in business, wearied at that oar Which thousands, once fast chained to, quit no more But which, when life at ebb runs weak and low, All wish, or seem to wish, they could forego ; The statesman, lawyer, merchant, man of trade, 5 Pants for the refuge of some rural shade, Where, all his long anxieties forgot Amid the charms of a sequester'd spot, Or recollected only to gild o'er. And add a smile to what was sweet before, 10 He may possess the joys he thinks he sees, Lay his old age upon the lap of ease. Improve the remnant of his wasted span. And, having liv'd a trifler, die a man. Thus Conscience pleads her cause within the breast, Though long rebell'd against, not yet suppress'd, 16 And calls a creature form'd for God alone. For Heav'n's high purposes, and not his own, Calls him away from selfish ends and aims. From what debilitates and what inflames, 20 From cities humming with a restless crowd, Sordid as active, ignorant as loud, 13* 150 KETIREMENT. Whose highest praise is that they live in yaixii The dupes of pleasure, or the slaves of gain. Whore works of man are cluster'd close aroundt 85 And works of God are hardly to be found, To regions where in spite of sin and wo, Traces of Eden are still seen below, Where mountain, river, forest, field, and grove, Remind him of liis Maker's power and love. 30 *Tis well if, look'd for at so late a day, In the last scene of such a senseless play, True wisdom will attend his feeble call, And grace his action ere the curtain fall. Souls that have long despis'd their heavenly birth, 35 Their wishes all impregnated with earth. For threescore years employ'd with ceaseless care In catching smoke and feeding upon air. Conversant only with the ways of men, Rarely redeem the short remaining ten. 40 Invet'rate habits, choke th' unfruitful heart. Their fibres penetrate its tend'rest part, And draining its nutritious pow'rs to feed Their noxious growth, starve ev'ry better seed. Happy, if full of days — ^but happier far, 45 If, ere we yet discern life's evening star. Sick of the service of a world that feeds Its patient drudges with dry chaff and weeds, We can escape from custom's idiot sway, To serve the Sov'reign we were born t' obey. 50 Then sweet to muse upon his skill displayed, (Infinite skill,) in all that he has made ! To trace in nature's most minute design The signature and stamp of pow'r divine, Contrivance intricate, express'd with ease, 55 Where unassisted sight no beauty sees, The shapely limb and lubricated joint, Within the small dimensions of a point, Muscle and nerve miraculously spun, His mighty work, who speaks and it is done, 60 RETIREMENT. 151 Th* invisible in things scarce seen roveal'd, To whom an atom is an ample field ; To wonder at a thousand insect forms, These hatch'd and those resuscitated worms, New life ordain'd and brighter scenes to share, 65 Once prone on earth, now buoyant upon air. Whose shape would make them, had they bulk and size. More hideous foes than fancy can devise ; With helmet heads, and dragon scales adorn'd. The mighty, myriads, now securely scorn'd, 70 Would mock the majesty of man's high birth, Despise his bulwarks, and unpeople earth • Then with a glance of fancy to survey. Far as the faculty can stretch away. Ten thousand rivers pour'd at his command 75 From urns that never fail, through ev'ry land ; This like a deluge with impetuous force. Those winding modestly a silent course } The cloud-surmounting Alps, the fruitful vales ; Seas, on which ev'ry nation spreads her sails ; 80 The sun, a world whence other worlds drink light, The crescent moon, the diadem of night ; Stars countless, each in his appointed place Fast anchor'd in the deep abyss of space — At such a sight to catch the poet's flame, 85 And with a rapture like his own exclaim. These are thy glorious works, thou source of good, How dimly seen, how faintly understood ! Thine, and upheld by thy paternal care. This universal frame, thus wondrous fair : JO Thy pow'r divine, and bounty beyond thought, Ador'd and prais'd in all that thou hast wrought Absorb 'd in that immensity I see, I shrink abas'd, and yet aspire to thee ; Instruct me, guide me to that heavenly day, 95 Thy words more clearly than thy works display fr- i52 RETIREMENT That, while thy truths my grosser thoughts refine, I may resemble thee, and call thee mine. Oh blest proficiency ! supassing all That men erroneously their glory call, 100 The recompense that arts or arms can yield, The bar, the senate, or the tented field. Compar'd with this sublimest life below, Ye kings and rulers, what have courts to ghow *' Thus studied, ns'd, and consecrated thus, 105 On earth, what is, seems fiirm'd indeed fi^r us . Not as the plaything of a fro ward child, Fretful unless diverted and beguil'd, Much less to feed and fan the fatal fires Of pride, ambition, or impure desires ; 110 But as a scale, by which the soul ascends From mighty means to more important ends, Securely, though by steps but rarely trod, Mounts from inferiour beings up to God, And sees, by no fallacious light or dim, 115 Earth made for man, and man himself for him. Not that I mean t' approve, or would enforce^ A superstitious and monastick course : Truth is not local, God alike pervades- And fills the world of traffick, and the shades, 120 And may be fear'd amidst the busiest scenes, Or scorn'd where business never intervenes. But 'tis not easy with a mind like ours, Conscious of weakness in its noblest pow'rs. And in a world where other ills apart, 125 The roving eye misleads the careless heart. To limit Thought, by nature prone to stray Wherever freaiish Fancy points the way ; To bid the pleadings of self-love be still. Resign our own, and seek our Maker's will ; 130 To spread the page of Scripture, and compare Our conduct with the laws engraven there ; To measure all that passes in the breast, Faithfully, fairly, by that sacred test RETIREMENT. 153 To dive into the secret deeps within, 135 To spare no passion and no fav'rite sin, And sear en the themes important above all, Ourselves and our recov'ry from our fall. But leisure, silence, and a mind releas'd From anxious thoughts how wealth may be increase, How to secure, in some propitious hour, 41 The point of int'rest or the post of pow'r, A soul serene, and equally retired, From objects too much dreaded or desir'd, Safe from the clamours of perverse dispute, 145 At least are friendly to the great pursuit. Op'ning the map of God's extensive plan, We find a little isle, this life of man ; Eternity's unknown expanse appears Circling around and limiting his years. 150 The busy race examine and explore Each creek and cavern of the dang'rous shore, With care collect what in their eyes excels. Some shining peobles, and some weeds and shells ; Thus laden, dream that they are rich and great, 155 And happiest he that groans beneath his weight : The waves o'ertake them in their serious play, And ev'ry hour sweep multitudes away ; They shrink and sink, survivors start and weep, Pursue their sport, and follow to the deep. 160 A few forsake the throng ; with lifted eyes Ask wealth of Heav'n, and gain a real prize — Truth, wisdom, grace, and peace like that above, Seal'd with his signet, whom they serve and love, Scorn'd by the rest, with patient hope they wait 165 A kind release from their imperfect state, And unregretted are soon snatch'd away From scenes of sorrow into glorious day. Now these alone prefer a life recluse, Who seek retirement for its proper use ; 170 The love of change, that lives in ev'ry breast, Genius and temper, and desire of rest, 54 RETIREMENT. Discordant motives in one centre moet,^ And each inclines its votary to retreat. , Some minds by nature are averse to noise, ITS And hate the tumult half the world enjoys, The lure of av'rice, or the pompous prize, That courts display before ambitious eyes , The fruits that hang on pleasure's flow'ry stem, ■Whate'er enchants them, are no snares to them. 180 To them the deep recess of d\i£ky groves, Or forest, where the deer securely roves. The fall of waters, and the song of birds, And hills that echo to the distant herds, Are luxuries excelling all the glare 185 The world can boast, and her chief fav'rites share With eager step and carelessly array'd, For such a cause the poet seeks the shade ; From all he sees he catches new delight, Plcas'd Fancy claps her pinions at the sight ; 190 The rising or the setting orb of day, The clouds that flit, or slowly float away. Nature in all the various shapes she wears. Frowning in storms, or breathing gentle airs, The snowy robe her wintry state assumes, 195 Her summer heats, her fruits, and her perfumes, All, all alike transport the glowing bard. Success in rhyme his glory and reward. O Nature ! whose Elysian scenes disclose His bright perfections, at whose word they rose, 200 Next to that pow'r who form'd thee and sustains, Be thou the great inspirer of my strains. Still as I touch the lyre, do thou expand Thy genuine charms, and guide an artless hand, That I may catch a fire but rarely known, 205 Give useful light, though I should miss renown ; And poring on thy page, whose ev'ry line Bears proof of an intelligence divine. May feel a heart enrich'd by what it pays, That builds its glory on its Maker's praise 210 RETIREMENT. 155 Wo to the man, whose wit disclaims its uso, Glitt'ring in vain, or only to seduce, Who studies nature with a wanton eye, Admires the work, but slips the lesson by ; His hours of leisure and recess employs 215 [n drawing pictures of forbidden joys, Retires to blazon his own worthless name, Or shoot the careless with a surer aim. The lover, too, shuns business and alarms, Tender idolater of absent charms. 220 Saints offer nothing in their warmest pray*rs. That he devotes not with a zeal like theirs ; *Tis consecration of his heart, soul, time, And ev'ry thought that wanders is a crime. In sighs he worships his supremely fair, 225 And weeps a sad Hbation in despair ; Adores a creature, and, devout in vain. Wins in return an answer of disdain. As woodbine weds the plant within her reach, Rough elm, or smooth-grain'd ash, or glossy beech. In spiral rings ascends the trunk, and lays 231 Her golden tassels on the leafy sprays, But does a mischief while she lends a grace. Strait 'ning its growth by such a strict embrace ; So love, that clings around the noblest minds, 235 Forbids th' advancement of the soul he binds ; The suitor's air, indeed, he soon improves. And forms it to the taste of her he loves. Teaches his eyes a language, and no less Refines his speech, and fashions his address ! 240 But farewell promises of happier fruits ; Manly designs, and learning's grave pursuits ; Girt with a chain he cannot wish to break. His only bliss is sorrow for her sake , Who will may pant for glory and excel, 24S Her smile his aim, all higher aims farewell ! Thyrsis, Alexis, or whatever name May least offend against so pure a flame, 156 RETIREMENT. Though sage advice of friends the most sincere Sounds harshly in sid delicate an ear, 250 And lovers, of all creatures, tame or wild, Can least brook management, however mild, Yet let a poet, (poetry disarms The fiercest animals with magick charms,) Risk an intrusion on thy pensive mood, 255 And woo and win thee to thy proper good* Pastoral images and still retreats, Umbrageous walks and solitary seats, Sweet birds in concert with harmonious streams. Soft airs, nocturnal vigils, and day dreams, 260 Are all enchantments in a case like thine, Conspire against thy peace with one design ; Sooth thee to make thee but a surer prey. And feed the fire that wastes thy pow'rs away : Up — God has form'd thee with a wiser view, 265 Not to be led in chains, but to subdue ; Calls thee to cope with enemies, and first Points out a conflict with thyself, the worst. Woman, indeed, a gift he would bestow When he design'd a Paradise below, 270 The richest earthly boon his hands afford. Deserves to be belov'd, but not ador'd. Post away swiftly to more active scenes. Collect the scatter'd truths that study gleans, Mix with the world, but with its wiser part, 275 No longer give an image all thine heart ; Its empire is not hers, nor is it thine, *Tis God's just claim, prerogative divine. Virtuous and faithful HeberdeUy whose skill Attempts no task it cannot well fulfil, 280 Gives melancholy up to Nature's care, And send the patient into purer air. Look where he comes — in this embower'd alcove Stand close conceai'd, and see a statue move : Lips busy, and eyes fix'd, foot falling slow, 285 Arms hanging idly down, hands clasp'd below, ^^SP7 or THi; RETIREMENT. Interpret to the marking eye distress, SucI^ as its symptoms can alone express. That tongtie is silent now ; that silent tongud, Could argue once, could jest or join the song, 290 Could give advice, could censure or commend, Or xjharm the soi^rows of a drooping friend. Renounc'd alike its office, and its sport. Its brisker and its graver strains fall short ; Both fail beneath a fever's secret sway, 295 And like a summer brook are pass'd away. This is a sight for pity to peruse. Till she resemble faintly what she views. Till Sympathy contract a kindred pain, Pierc*d with the woes that she laments in vain. 300 This, of all maladies that man infest. Claims most compassion, and receives the least : Job felt it when he groan'd beneath the rod And the barb'd arrows of a frowning God ; And such emollients as his friends Could spare, 305 Friends such as his for modern Jobs prepare. Bless'd, rather curs'd, with hearts that never feel, Kept snug in caskets of close-hammer'd steel, With mouths made only to grin wide and eat. And minds that deem derided pain a treat, 310 With limbs of British oak, and nerves of wire. And wit that puppet-prompters might inspire. Their sovereign nostrum is a clumsy joke, On pangs enforc'd with God's severest stroke. But Mtiih a soul, that ever felt the stin^ 315 Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing : Not to molest, or irritate, or raise A laugh at his expense, is slender praise : He that has not usurp'd the name of man, Does all, and deems too little all, he can, 320 T' assuage the throbbings of the festered part, And stanch the bleedings of a broken heart, 'Tis not as heads that never ache suppose, Forgery of fantiy, and a dream of woes Vol. I. I'l i58 RETIREMENT. Man is a harp, whose chords elude the sight, 325 Each yielding harmony dispos'd aright > The screws revers'd, (a task which if he please God in a moment executes with ease,) Ten thousand thousand springs at once go loose. Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use. 330 Then neither heathy wilds, nor scenes as fair As ever recompens'd the peasant's care, Nor soft declivities with tufted hills, Nor view of waters turning busy mills, Parks in which Art preceptress Nature weds, 335 Nor gardens interspers'd with flowery beds. Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming groves, And waft it to the mourner as he roves, Can call up life into his faded eye. That passes all he sees unheeded by ; 340 No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals. And thou, sad sufF'rer under nameless ill. That yields not to the touch of human skill. Improve the kind occasion, understand 345 A Father's frown, and kiss his chast'ning hand. To thee the day-spring and the blaze of noon. The purple ev'ning and resplendent moon, The stars that, sprinkled o'er the vault of night. Seem drops descending in a show'r of light, 350 Shine not, or undesir'd and hated shine. Seen through the medium of a cloud like thine ; .. Yet seek him, in liis favour life is found, ^ ,:^ All bliss beside a shadow or a sound ; Then Heav'n eclips'd so long, and this dull earth, 355 Shall seem to start into a second birth ; Nature, assuming a more lovely face, Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace, Shall be despis'd and overlook'd no more. Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before, 360 Impart to things inanimate a voice, And bids her mountains and her hills rejoice * RETIREMENT. 159 The sound shall run along the winding vales, And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails. Ye groves, (the statesman at his desk ezclaimsi 365 Sick of a thousand disappointed aims,) My patrimonial treasure and my pride, Beneath your shades your gray possessor hide, Receive me languishing for that repose, The servant of the publick never knows. 370 Ye saw me once, (ah those regretted days. When boyish innocence was all my praise !) Hour after hour delightfully allot To studies then familiar, since forgot, And cultivate a taste for ancient song, 375 Catching its ardour as I mus'd along ; Nor seldom, as propitious Heav'n might send. What once I valu'd and could boast, a friend, Were witnesses how cordially I press'd His undissembling virtue to my breast j 380 Receive me now, not uncorrupt as then, Nor guiltless of corrupting other men. But vers'd in arts, that while they seem to stay A falling empire, hasten its decay, To the fair haven of my native home, 385 The wreck of what I was, fatigued I come ; For once I can approve the patriot's voice. And make the course he recommends my choice : SVe meet at last in one sincere desire. His wish and mine both prompt me to retire. 390 Tis done — he steps into the welcome chaise. Lolls at his ease behind four handsome bays, That whirl away from business and debate The disencumber'd Atlas of the state. Ask not the boy, who, when the breeze of mom 395 First shakes the glitt'ring drops from ev'ry thorn. Unfolds his flock, then under bank or bush Sits linking cherry stones, or platting rush. How fair is freedom ! — he was always free • To carve his rustick name upon a tree, 400 160 RETIREMENT To snare the mole, or with ill-fashion'd hooK To draw the incautious minnow from the brook, Are life's prime pleasures in his simple view, His flock the chief concern he ever knew; She shines but little in his heedless eyes, 405 The good we never miss we rarely prize : But ask the noble drudge in state aflairs, Escap'd from office and its constant cares, What charms he sees in Freedom's smile expressed, In Freedom lost so long, now repossess'd ; 410 The tongue, whose strains were cogent as commands, Rever'd at home, and felt in foreign lands, Shall own itself a stamm'rer in that cause. Or plead its silence as its best applause. He knows, indeed, that, whether dress'd or rude, 415 Wild without art, or artfully subdu'd, Nature in ev'ry form inspires delight, But never mark'd her with so just a sight. Her hedge-row shrubs, a variegated store, With woodbine, and wild roses mantled o*er, . 420 Green balks and furrow'd lands, the stream, that spreads Its cooling vapour o'er the dewy meads, Downs, that almost escape th' inquiring eye, That melt and fade into the distant sky, Beauties he lately slighted as he pass'd, 425 Seem all created since he travell'd last. Master of all th' enjojrments he designed, No rough annoyance rankling in his mind. What early philosophick hours he keeps, How regular his meals, liow sound he sleeps ! 430 Not sounder he, that on the mammast head, While morning kindles with a windy red, Begms a ong look-out for distant land, Nor quits till evening watch his giddy stand. Then, swift descending with a seaman's haste, 435 Slips to his hammock, and forgets the blast RETIREMENT. 161 He chooses company, but not the squire's, Whoso wit is rudeness, whose good breeding tires ; Nor yet the parson's, who would gladly come. Obsequious when abroad, though proud at home ; 440 Nor can he much affect the neighb'ring peer, Whose toe of emulation treads too near j But wisely seeks a more convenient friend With whom, dismissing forms, he may unbend - A man, whom marks of condescending grace 445 Teach, while they flatter him, his proper place , Who comes when call'd, and at a word withdraws, Speaks with reserve, and listens with applause ; Some plain mechanick, who, without pretence To birth or wit, nor gives nor takes offence ; 450 On whom he rests well pleas'd his weary powers, And talks and laughs away his vacant hours. The tide of life, swifl always in its course, May run in cities with a brisker force, But no where with a current so serene, 455 Or half so clear, as in the rural scene. Yet how fallacious is all earthly bliss, What obvious truths the wisest heads may miss Some pleasures live a month, and some a year, But short the date of all we gather here ; 460 No happiness is felt, except the true. That does not charm the more for being new. This observation, as it chanc'd, not made, Or, if the thought occurr'd not duly weigh'd. He sighs — for, after all, by slow degrees 465 The spot he lov'd has lost the pow'r to please To cross his ambling pony day by day, Seems at the best but dreaming life away ; The prospect, such as might enchant despair, He views it not, or sees no beauty there ; 470 With aching heart, and discontented looks, Returns at noon to billiards or to books. But feels, while grasping at his faded joys, A secret tliirst of his renounc'd employs 14 • IG2 RETIREMENT. He chides the tardiness of ev'ry post, 475 Pants to be told of battles won or lost, Blames his own indolence, observes, though late, 'Tis criminal to leave a sinking state. Flies to the levee, and, receiv'd with grace, Kneels, kisses hands, and shines again in place. 480 Suburban villas, highway side retreats. That dread th' encroachment of our growing streets. Tight boxes neatly sash*d, and in a blaze With all a July sun's collected rays. Delight the citizen, who, gasping there, 485 Breathes clouds of dust, and calls it country air. O sweet retirement, who would balk the thought That could afford retirement, or could not ? 'Tis such an easy walk, so smooth and straight, The second milestone fronts the garden gate ; 490 A step if fair J and if a sliow'r approach. You find safe shelter in the next stage coach. There prison'd in a parlour snug and small, Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall. The man of business and his friends compressed, 495 Forget their labours, and yet find no rest ; But still 'tis rural — trees are to be seen From ev'ry window, and the fields are green s Ducks paddle in the pond before the door, And what could a remoter scene show more ? 500 A sense of elegance we rarely find The portion of a mean or vulgar mind, And ignorance of better things makes man, Who cannot much, rejoice in what he can ; And he that deems liis leisure well bestowed 505 In contemplation of a turnpike road. Is occupied as well, employs his hours As wisely, and as much improves his pow'rs, As he that slumbers in pavilions grac'd With all the charms of an accomplish'd taste. 610 Yet hence, alas ! insolvencies ; and hence The unpitied victim of ill-judg'd expense, RETIREMENT. 163 From all his wearisome engagements freed, Shakes hands with business, and retires indeed. Your prudent grandmammas, ye modern belle», 515 Content with Bristol, Bath, and Tunbridge wells, When health requir'd it would consent to roam. Else more attach'd to pleasures found at home. But now alike, gay widow, virgin, wife, Ingenious to diversify dull life, 620 In coaches, chaises, caravans, and hoys, Fly to the coast for daily, nightly joys, And all, impatient of dry land, agree With one consent to rush into the sea — Ocean exhibits, fathomless and broad, 625 Much of the pow'r and majesty of God. He sv/athcs about the swelling of the deep, That shines and rests as infants smile and sleep ; Vast as it is, it answers as it flows The breathings of the lightest air that blows ; 530 Curling and whit'ning over all the waste. The rising waves obey th' increasing blast. Abrupt and horrid as the tempest roars. Thunder and flash upon the steadfast shores. Till he that rides the whirlwind, checks the rein, 535 Then all the world of waters sleep again. — Nereids or Dryads, as the fashion leads, Now in the floods, now panting in the meads, Vot'ries of pleasure still, where'er she dwells. Near barren rocks, in palaces, or cells, 540 O grant a poet leave to recommend, (A poet fond of Nature, and your friend,) Her slighted works to your admiring view ; Her works must needs excel, who fashion'd you. Would ye, when rambling in your morning ride, 545 With some unmeaning coxcomb at your side. Condemn the prattler for his idle pains. To waste unheard the musick of his strains. And, deaf to all th* impertinence of tongue, That, while il courts, affronts and does you wrong, 550 164 RETIREMENT. Mark well the finish'd plan without a fault, The seas globose and huge, th' o'erarching vaulti Earth's millions daily fed, a world employed, In gath'ring plenty yet to be enjoy'd. Till gratitude grew vocal in the praise 555 Of God beneficent in all his ways ; Grac'd with such wisdom, how would beauty shiae ? Ye want but that to seem indeed divine. Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid, Force many a shining youth into the shade, 560 Not to redeem his time, but his estate, And play the fool, but at a cheaper rate. There, hid in loth'd obscurity, remov'd From pleasures left, but never more belov'd. He just endures, and with a sickly spleen 565 Sighs o'er the beauties of the charming scene ; Nature indeed looks prettily in rhyme ; Streams tinkle sweetly in poetick chime.; The warblings of the blackbird, clear and strong, Are musical enough in Thomson's song ; 570 And Cobham's groves, and Windsor's green retreats, When Pope describes them, have a thousand sweets ; He likes the country, but in truth must own. Most likes it, when he studies it in town. Poor Jack — no matter who — for when I blame, 575 I pity, and must therefore sink the name, Liv'd in his saddle, lov'd the chace, the course. And always, ere he mounted, kiss'd his horse. The estate his sires had own'd in ancient years, Was quickly distanc'd, match'd against a peer's. 580 Jack vanish'd, was regretted and forgot ; *Tis wild good nature's never-failing lot. At length, when all had long suppos'd him dead, By cold submersion, razor, rope, or lead. My lord, alighting at his usual place, 585 The Crown, took notice of an ostler's face. Jack knew his friend, but hop'd in that disguise He might escape the most observmg eyes ; RETIREMENT. 165 And whistling, as if unconcern'd and gay, Curried his nag, and look'd another way. 590 Convinc'd at last, upon a nearer view, 'Twas he, the same, the very Jack he knew, O'erwhelm'd at once with wonder, grief, and joy, He press'd him much to quit his base employ ; Bis countenance, his purse, his heart, his hand, 595 Influence and pow'r, were all at his command : Peers are not always gen'rous as well-bred, But Granby was, meant truly what he said. Jack bow'd, and was oblig'd — confess'd 'twas strange, That so retir'd he should not wish a change, 600 But knew no medium between guzzling beer. And his old stint — three thousand pounds a year. Thus some retire to nourish hopeless wo ; . Some seeking happiness not found below j Some to comply with humour, and a mind 605 To social scenes by nature disinclin'd ; Some sway'd by fashion, some by deep disgust ; Some self-impoverish'd, and because they must ; But few, that court Retirement, are aware Of half the toils they must encounter there. 610 Lucrative offices are seldom lost For want of pow'rs proportion'd to the post : Give e'en a dunce th* employment he desires. And he soon finds the talents it requires ; A business with an income at its heels 615 Furnishes always oil for its own wheels. But in his arduous enterprise to close His active years with indolent repose, He finds the labours of that state exceed His utmost faculties, severe indeed. 620 *Tis easy to resign a toilsome place. But not to manage leisure with a grace ; Absence of occupation is not rest, A mind quite vacant is a mind distress'd. The vet'ran steed, excus'd his task at length, 625 In kind compassion of his failing strength, j6G RETIREMENT. And turn'd into the park or mead to graze, Exempt from future service all his days, Theie feels a pleasure perfect in its kind, Ranges at liberty, and snuffs the wind : 630 But when his lord would quit the busy road, To taste a joy like that he had bestow 'd. He proves, less happy than his favour'd brute, A life of ease a difficult pursuit. Thought, to the man that never thinks, may seom 635 As natural as when asleep to dream ; But reveries, (for human minds will act,) Specious in show, impossible in fact, Those flimsy webs, that break as soon as wrought, Attain not to the dignity of thought : 640 Nor yet the swarms that occupy the brain, Where dreams of dress, intrigue, and pleasure reign ; . Nor such as useless conversation breeds. Or lust engenders, and indulgence feeds. Whence, and what are we ? to what end ordain*d ? 645 What means the drama by the world sustain'd ? Business or vain amusement, care or mirth, Divide the frail inhabitants of earth. Is duty a mere sport, or an employ ? Life an intrusted talent, or a toy ? 650 Is there, as reason, conscience. Scripture say. Cause to provide for a great future day. When earth's assign'd duration at an end, Man shall be summon'd and the dead attend ? The trumpet— will it sound ? the curtain rise ? 655 And show the august tribunal of the skies. Where no prevarication shall avail, Where eloquence and artifice shall fail. The pride of arrogant distinctions fall. And conscience and our conduct judge us all ? 660 Pardon me, ye that give the midnight oil To learned cares of philosophick toil, Though I revere your honourable names, Your useful labours and important aims, RETIREMENT. K? And hold the world indebted to your aid, 665 Enrich'd with the discov'ries ye have made ; Yet let me stand excus'd, if I esteem A mind employ'd on so sublime a theme, Pushing her bold inquiry to the date And outline of the present transient state, 670 And after poising her advent 'rous wings, Settling at last upon eternal things, Far more intelligent, and better taught The strenuous use of profitable thought, Than ye, when happiest, and enlighten'd most, 675 And highest in renown, can justly boast. A mind unnerv'd, or indispos'd to bear The weight of subjects worthiest of her care. Whatever hopes a change of scene inspires. Must change her nature, or in vaitf tetires. 880 An idler is a watch that wants both hands ; As useless if it goes, as when it stands. Books, therefore, not the scandal of the shelves. In which lewd sensualists print out themselves ; Nor those in which the stage gives vice a blow, 685 With what success let modern manners show ; Nor his, who, for the bane of thousands born. Built God a church, and laugh'd his word to scorn, Skilful alike to seem devout and just. And stab religion with a. sly side-thrust ; 690 Nor those of learned pliilologists, who chase A panting syllable through time and space, Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark. To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's ark ; But such as learning without false pretence, 695 The friend of truth, th' associate of good sense. And such as, in the zeal of good design. Strong judgment lab'ring in the Scripture mine, All such as manfy and great souls produce, Worthy to live, and of eternal use ; 700 Behold in these what leisure hours demand, Amusement and true knowledge hand in hand. 1^ RETIREMENT. Luxury gives the mind a childish cast, And, while she polishes, perverts the taste ; Habits of close attention, thinking heads, 705 Become more rare as dissipation spreads, Till authors hear at length one gen'ral cry, Tickle and entertain us, or we die. The loud demand, from year to year the same, Beggars Invention, and malies Fancy lame ; 710 Till farce itself most mournfully jejune. Calls for the kind assistance of a tune ; And novels, (witness ev'ry month's review,) Belie their name, and offer nothing new. The mind, relaxing into needful sport, 715 Should turn to writers of an abler sort. Whose wit well manag'd, and whose classick style, Give truth a lustre,^and make wisdom smile. Friends, (for I cannot stint, as some have done, Too rigid in my view, that name to one ; 720 Though one, I grant it, in the gen'rous breast Will stand advanc'd a step above the rest ; Flow'rs by that name promiscuously we call. But oue, the rose, the regent of them all,) — Friends, not adopted with a schoolboy's haste, 725 But chosen with a nice discerning taste, Well born, well disciplin'd, who, plac'd apart From vulgar minds, have honour much at heart. And though the world may think the ingredients odd. The love of virtue, and the fear of God ! 730 Such friends prevent what else would soon saccecd, A temper rustick as the life we lead. And keep the polish of the manners clean. As theirs who bustle in the busiest scene ; For solitude, however some may rave, 735 Seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave, A sepulchre, in which the living lie, • Whore all good qurilities grow sick and die. RETIREMENT. 169 i praise tho Frenchman,* his remark was shrewd^-^ How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude ! ^40 But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whiter — solitude is sweet. Yet neither these d^irghls, nor aught beside, T^hat appetite can ask, oir wealth provide, Can save us always from a tedious day, t-fc Or shine the dulnoss of still life away ; Divine communion, carefully enjoy'd, Or sought with energy, must fill the void. O sacred art, to which alone life owes Its happiest seasons, and a peaceful close ; 750 Scom'd in a world, indebted to that scorn For evils daily felt and hardly borne. Not knowing thee, we reap with bleeding nands Flow'rs of rank odour upon thorny lands. And while Experience cautions us in vain, 755 Grasp seeming happiness, and find it pain. Despondence, self-deserted in her grief. Lost by abandoning her own relief, Murmuring and ungrateful discontent, That scorns afflictions mercifully meant, 760 Those humours tart as wine upon the fret. Which idleness and weariness beget ; These, and a thousand plagues, that haunt the breast, *Fond of the phantom of an earthly rest. Divine communion chases, as the day 765 Drives to their dens th* obedient beasts of prey. See Judah's promis'd king, berefl of all, Driv'n out an exile from the face of Saul ; To distant caves the lonely wand'rer flies. To seek that peace a tyrant's frown denies. '!*70 Hear the sweet accents of his tuneful voice, Hear him, o'erwhelm'd -with sorrow, yet rejoice ; No womanish or wailing grief has part, No, not a moment, in his royal heart ; * Bruyere. Vol. I. 15 170 RETIREMENT. 'Tis manly musick, such as martyrs make, 775 SufF'ring with gladness for a Saviour's sake ; His soul exults, hope animates his lays, The sense of mercy kindles into praise, And wilds, familiar with a liori'^roar, Ring with ecstatick sounds unheard before ; 780 Tis love like his, that can alone defeat ^ The foes of man, or make a desert sweet. Religion does not censure or exclude Unnumber'd pleasures harmlessly pursued j To study culture, and with artful toil 785 To meliorate and tame the stubborn soil ; To give dissimilar, yet fruitful lands, The grain, or herb, or plant, that each demands ; To cherish virtue in an humble state. And share tlie joys your bounty may create ; 790 To mark the matchless workings of the pow'r. That shuts within its seed the future flow'r. Bid these m elegance of form excel. In colour these, and those delight the smell , Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies, 795 To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes , To teach the canvass innocent deceit. Or lay the landscape on the snowy sheet — These, these are arts pursu'd without a crmie, That leave no stain upon the wing of Time. 800 Me poetry, (or rather notes that aim Feebly and vainly at poetick fame,) Employs, shut out from more important views, Fast bv the banks of the slow- winding Ouse ; Content if thus sequester'd I may raise 805 A monitor's though not a poet's praise, And while I teach an art too little known, To close life wisely, may not waste my own THE YEARLY DISTRESS, OB, TITHING TIME AT STOCK, IN ESSEX. Verses addressed to a country clerg3rman, complaining of .the disagreeableness of the day annually appoint- ed for receiving the dues at the parsonage. COME, ponder well, for *tis no jest, T o laugh it would be wrong, The troubles of a worthy priest. The burden of my song. The priest he merry is and blithe, Three quarters of the year. But, oh ! it cuts him like a sithe, When tithing time draws neai. He then is full of frights and fearfli» As one at point to die, And long before the day appears, He heaves up many a sigh. For then the farmers come, jog, jog, Along the miry road, Each heart as heavy as a log, To make their payments good. 172 THE \ EARLY DISTRESS. In sooth, the sorrow of such days Is not to be express'd, When he that takes, and he that payg, Arc both alike distress'd. Now all unwelcome at his gates The clumsy swains alight, With rueful faces and bald pates- He trembles at the sight. And well he may, for well he knows Each bumpkin of the cian. Instead of paying what he owes. Will cheat him if he can. ^o in they come — each makes J43 leg^ And flings his head before, And looks as if he came to beg. And not to quit a score. " And how does miss and madam do, « The little boy, and all ?" ,.-{^;-j. " All tight and well. And how do yiw « Good Mr. What-d'ye-call ?" The dinner comes, and down they sit Wore e'er such hungry folk ? There's little talking, and no wit ; It is no time to joke. One wipes his nose upon his sleeyOi One spits upon the floor. Yet not to give offence or grieve, Holds up the cloth before. The punch goes round, and they are dull And lumpish still as ever ; Like barrels with their bellies full. They only weigh the heavier. '■''•'II THE YEARLY DISTRESS. 173 At length the husy time begins, " Come, neighbours, we must wag — ** The money chinks, down drop their chinBy Each lugging out his bag. One talks of mildew and of frost, \ And one of storms of hail, ] And one of pigs, that he has lost By maggots at the tail. Quoth one, " A rarer man than you " In pulpit none shall hear : " But yet, methinks, to tell you true, " You sell it plaguy dear." O why are farmers made so coarse Or clergy made so fine ? A kick that scarce would move a hoTMi May kill a sound divine. ' Then let the boobies stay at home ; *Twould cost him, I dare say, Less trouble taking twice the sum Without the clowns that pay. (174) SONNET ADDRESSED TO HENKY C0W?^|^^^ On his emphaticaJ and interesting delivery of the defence of Warren Hastings, Esq. in the House of Lords. COWPER, whose silver voice, task'd sometimes hard Legends prolix delivers in the ears, (Attentive when thou read'st,) of England's peers. Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward. Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard. Expending late on all that length of plea Thy gen'rous pow'rs, but silence honoured thee, Mute as e'er gaz'd on orator or bard. Thou art not voice alone, but hast beside * Both heart and head ; and couldst with musick sweet Of Attick phrase and senatorial tone, Like thy renown'd forefathers, far and wide Tliy fame diffuse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet Of others* speech, but ma.gick of thy own. LINES, ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWIN, Authoi of " The Botanick Garden " TWO Poets » (poets by report. Not oft so well agree,) Sweet harmonists of Flora's coutf Conspire to honour Thee. They best can judge a poet's worlkh o f Who oft themselves have knq^MKp ^^ The pangs of a ppetick birth By labours of their own. We therefore pleas'd extol thy song Though various yet complete, Rich in embellishment as strong And learned as 'tis sweet. :I]A No envy mingles with our praise. Though, could our hearts repine At any poet's happier lays, They would — ^they must at thine. Bnt we in mutual bondage kni^ Of friendship's closest tie, Can gaze on even Darwin's wit With an unjaundic'd eye ; And deem the Bard, whoo'.pi'.JI^Q- he, And howsoever kno,wn> Who would not twine a wxeath for TkbOp Un^irorthy of his own. Alluding to the poem by Mr, Hayley, tokieh $ompanted these lintt (176) MRS. MONTAGU'S FEATHER HANG^ , .INGS. THE Birds put off their ev'ry hue, To dress a room for Montagu. '^^^ v". T The Peacock sends his heavenly dyes, His rainbows and his starry eyes ; The Pheasant plumes, which round infold His mantling neck with downy gold ; The Cock his arch'd tail's azure show ; And, river-blanch'd, the Swan his snow ^, All tribes beside of Indian name, ', That glossy shine, or vivid flame, Where rises and where sets the day, Whate'er they boast of rich and gay, Contribute to the gorgeous plan. Proud to advance it all they can. This plumage neither dashing show*r, Nor blasts that shake the dripping bow*r. Shall drench again or discompose. But, screened from every storm that blow*,' It boasts a splendour ever new, Safe with protecting Montagu. To this same patroness resort. Secure of favour at her court. Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought Forms rise, to quick perfection wrought, Which, though new-born, with vigour move, >fe. Like Pallas springing arm'd from Jove — -^ ON MRS. MONTAGU'S HANGINGS. 177 Imagination scattering round Wild roses over furrow'd ground, Which Labour of his frown beguile, And teach Philosophy a smile- Wit flashing on Religion's side, Whose fires to sacred Truth applied^ The gem, though luminous before, Obtrudes on human notice more, Like sunbeams on the golden heigut Of some tall temple playing bright — • Well-tutor'd Learning, from his books Dismiss'd with grave, not haughty, Io<^ Their order on his shelves exact, - ' mwm MA I Not more harmonious or compact ' ■- '^ Than that to which he keeps conim'd The various treasures of his mind- All these to Montagu's repair. Ambitious of a shelter there : There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit, Their ruffled plumage calm refit, (For stormy troubles loudest roar Around their flight who highest mwi And in her eye, and by her aid. Shine safe without a fear to fade She thus maintains divided sway With yon bright regent of the day The plume and poet both, we knoWi Their lustre to his influence owe ; And she the works of Phoebus aidii:^. Both poet saves and plume from fading. .:>mpvtf ^,,g) VERSES Supposed to be written by Alexarider Selkirkj during his solitary abode on the island of Juan Fernandez. I. I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms. Than reign in this horrible place. 11. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone. Never hear the sweet musick of speech, I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain> My form with indifference see ; They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me. m. Society, friendship, and love. Divinely bestow'd upon man, O had I the wings of a dove. How soon would I taste you again » My sorrows I then might assuage In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth VERSES BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 179 IV. Religion ! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word I More precious than silver and gold. Or all that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard. Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell. Or smil'd when a sabbath appeared. V. Ye winds that have made me your sport) Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land 1 shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. VI. How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compar d with the speed of its flight. The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift- winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But, alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. VII. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair ; Even here is a season of rest, And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place, ^ And mercy, encouraging thought I Gives even affliction a grace. And reconciles man to his lot. (180) It oil THE PROMOTIOIC OP EDWARD THURLOW, ESa To the Lord High Chancellorship of England. I. ROUND Thurlow's head, in early youth, And in his sportive days, Fair Science pour*d the light of truth And Genius shed his rays II See ! mtn united wonder, cried Th* experienc'd and the sage, Ambition in a boy supplied With all the skill of age ! III. Discernment, eloquence, and grace. Proclaim him bom to sway The balance in the highest place, And bear the palm away. IV. The praise bcstow'd was just and wise , He sprang impetuous forth, Secure of conquest, where the prize Attends superiour worth. V So the best courser on the plain Ere yet he starts is known. And does but at the goal obtain What all had deem'd his own. (181) ODE TO PEACE- I. COME, peace of mind, delightful guest I Ref ^m and make thy downy nest Once more in this sad heart : Nor riches I nor pow'r pursue, Nor hold forbidden joys in view ; "We therefore need not part. n. Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me, From av'rice and ambition free, And pleasure's fatal wiles ? i For whom, alas ! dost thou prepare -i^^i The sweets that I was wont to share^ ^i The banquet of thy smiles ? m. siwi wT The great, the gay, shall they partdcs.^T The Heav'n that thou alone canst makfl»^/- And wilt thou quit the stream That murmurs through the dewy mead^ * The grove and the sequester'd shed To be a guest with them ? IV. For thee I panted, thee I prixM, For thee I gladly sacrific'd Whatever I lov'd before ; ^|Md shall I see thee start away, And helpless, hopeless, hear thee i Farewell ! we meet no more ? Vol. I 16 (182) HUMAN FRAILTY. 1. WEAK and irresolute is man ; The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away. II. The bow well bent, and smart the spring, Vice seems already slain ; But Passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again. ni. Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part ; Virtue engages his assent, But Pleasure wins his heart. IV. Tis here the folly of the wise Through all his heart we view ; And, while his tongue the charge denies^j/t His conscience owns it true. V. Bound on a voyage of awful length And dangers little known, A stranger to superiour strength, Man vainly trusts his own. VI. But oars alone can ne'er prevail, To reach the distant coast ; ^ The breath of Heav'n must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost. ( iB3 ) THE MODERN PATRIOT. I. REBELLION is my theme all day : I only wish 'twould come, (As who knows but perhaps it may ?) A little nearer home. II. Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight On t'other side th' Atlantick, I always held them in the right, But most so when most frantick. III. When lawless mobs insult the court, That man shall be my toast, If breaking windows be the sporty Who bravely breaks the most. But, O ! for him my fancy culls The choicest flow'rs she bears, Who constitutionally pulls Tour house about your ears. V. Such civil broils are my delight. Though some folks can't endure them. Who say the mob are mad outright, . And that a rope must cure them. VI. A rope ! I wish we patriots had '^ r! JvV ^ Such strings for all who need 'em — What ! hang a man for going mad ! Then farewell British freedom. C184) On observing some Names of Utile note recorded in the Biographia Britannica. OH, fond attempt to give a deathless lot To names ignoble, born to be forgot! In vain, recorded in historick page, They court the notice of a future age • Those twinkling tiny lustres of the land Drop one by one from Fame's neglecting hand Lethaean gulfs receive them as they fall. And dark oblivion soon absorbs them all. So when a child, as playful children use, Has burnt to tinder a stale last year's news, The flame extinct, he views the roving fire- There goes my lady, and there goes the squire, There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark ! And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk * REPORT Of an adjudged Case, not to he found in any of !|« I. BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose The spectacles set them unhappily wrong ; ^ The point in dispute was, as all the world knows. To which the said spectacles ought to belong. REPORT OF A LAW CASE. 185 II. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning, While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, So fam'd for his talent in nicely discerning. m. Inbehalf of the Nose it will quickly appear, And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear. Which amounts to possession time out of mind. IV. Then holding the spectacles up to the court. Your lordship observes they are made with t straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short, Design'd to sit close to it, just like a saddle. V. Again, would your lordship a moment suppose, ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again,} That the visage or countenance had not a Nose, Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then f VI. On the whole it appears, and my argument shows. With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose And the Nose was as plainly intended for them. VIL Then shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows now, He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes . But what were his arguments few people know. For the court did not think they were equally wise VIII. So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tore, Decisive and clear, without one if or but — That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on. By daylight or candle-light — ^Eyes should be shut 16* (186) 09 THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY, TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS. By the Mob, in the month of June, 1781^ L So then— the Vandals of our isle, Sworn foes to sense and law, Have burnt to dust a nobler pile Than ever Roman saw ! II. And Murray sighs o*er Pope and Swift, And many a treasure more, The well-judged purchase and the gift| That graced his lettered store. IIL Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn, The loss was his alone ; But ages yet to come shall mourn The burning oihis own (187) ON THE SAME. L WHEN Wit and Genius meet their doom In all-devouring flame, They tell us of the fate of Rome, And bid us fear the same. II. 0*er Murray*s loss the muses wept, They felt the rude alarm, Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept His sacred head from harm. m. There mem*ry, like the bee, that's fed From Flora's balmy store. The quintessence of all he road Had treasur'd up beforof IV. The lawless herd, with fury blind, Have done him cruel wrong ; The flow'rs are gone — ^but still we find The honey on his tongue. (188) TBB LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.* THUS says the prophet of the Turk: Good musselman, abstain from pork ; There is a part in every swine No friend or follower of mine May taste, whate'er his inclination, Upon pain of excommimication. Such Mahomet's mysterious charge, And thus he left the point at large. Had he the sinful part express'd, They might with safety eat the rest ; But for one piece they thought it hard From the whole hog to be debarr'd ; And set their wit at work to find What joint the prophet had in mind. Much controversy straight arose. These choose the back, the belly those ; By some 'tis confidently said He meant not to forbid the head ; While others at that doctrine rjul. And piously prefer the tail. Thus conscience freed from ev'ry clog, Mahometans eat up the hog. • It may be proper to inform the reader, that this piece has already appeared in print, having found its way, thougK with some unnecessary additions by an unknown hand, into the Leeds Journal, without the author's privity. HYPOCRISY DETECTED. You laugh — 'tis well — The tale applied, May make you laugh on t'other side, Renounce the world — ^the preacher cries ; "We do — a multitude replies. While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards ; And one, whatever you may say, Can see no evil in a play ; Some love a concert or a race ; And others shooting, and the chace, Revil'd and lov'd, renounc'd and follow'dly Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd ; Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, Yet likes a sUce as well as he : With sophistry their sauce they sweeteni Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten. OK THE DEATH OP MRS. (vow LADt) THROCKMOBTOir's BULFINCH. YE njonphs I if e'er your eyes were red With tears o'er hapless favorites shed O share Maria's grief ! Her fav'rite, even in his cage, (What will not hunger's cruel rage ?) Assassin'd by a thief. 190 LADY THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH, Where Rlienus strays his vines among, The egg was laid from which he sprung ; And, though by nature mute, Or only with a whistle blest, Well taught he all the sounds expressed Of flagelet or flute. The honours of his ebon poll Were brighter than the sleekest mole, His bosom of the hue With which Aurora decks the skies When piping winds shall soon arise To sweep away the dew Above, below, in all the house, Dire foe alike of bird and mouse^ No cat had leave to dwell ; And Bully's cage supported stood On props of smooth-shaven wood, Large built and lattic'd well. Well lattic'd — ^but the grate, alas ! Not rough with wire of steel or brass, For Bully's plumage sake, But smooth with wands from Ouse's side, With which, when neatly peal'd and driedi The swains their baskets make. Night veil'd the pole ; all seem'd secure , When led by instinct, sharp and sure. Subsistence to provide, A beast forth sallied on the scout, Long-back'd, long-tail'd, with whislierM snonty Andbadger-colour'd hide He, entering at the study door Its ample area 'gan explore } And somethmg in the wind THE ROSE 191 Gonjectur'd; fliiiffin^ round and round, Better than all the books he found, Food chiefly for the mind. Just then, by adverse fate impressed, A dream disturb 'd poor Bully's rest} In sleep he seem'd to view A rat fast clinging to the cage, , ,.,, ,, And screaming at the sad presage, . , | Awoke and found it true. For aided both by ear and scent, Bight to his mark the monster went— Ah muse ! forbear to speak Minute the horrors that ensu*d ; His teeth were strong, the cage was wood — He left poor Bully's beak. O had he made that too his prey ; That beak, whence issu'd many a lay Of such mellifluous tone, Might have repaid him well I wote, For silencing so sweet u throat, Fast stuck within his own. Maria weeps — the muses mourn — So when by Bacchanalians torn, On Thracean Hebrus' side. The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell. His head alone remained to tell The cruel death he died. THE ROSE. The Rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r Which Mary to Anna convey'd, The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flow*r And weigh'd down its beautiful head. 1^ THE DOVES. The cup wa# all SlVd, and the leaves were all wet, And it seem'd to a fandful view, To weep for the buds it had left with regret, On the flourishing bush where it grew. I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas ! I snapp'd it — ^it fell to the ground. And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part Some act by the delicate mind. Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart Already to sorrow resign'd. This elegant rose, had I shaken it less, Might have bloom'd with its owner a while ; And the tear that is wip'd with a little address, May be followed perhaps by a smilo THE DOVES. I. REAS'NING at evVy step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way. While meaner things, whom instinct leadi. Are rarely known to stray. II. One silent eve I wattder'd late. And heard the voice of love : The turtle thus address'd her mate, And scoth'd the list'ning dove • THE DOVfeS. 19^ m. Our mutual bond of faith and truth, ^.^ ^ No time shall disengage, .' ,'* . Those blessings of our early youth . Shall cheer our latest age : IV. While innocence wiUiout disguise. And constancy sincere, S^iall fill the circles of those eyes. And mine can read them there. 'v. Those ills that wait on all below, Shall ne^er be felt by me, Or gently felt, and only so. As being shar'd with thee. VI. When lightnings flash among the treeSf Or kites are hov'ring near, I fear lest thee alone they seize, And know no other fear. VII. Tis then I feel myself a wife, And press thy wedded side. Resolved a union form'd for 1^; . .. j . . Death never shall divide. ''^ ''^^^'^ ^'^^ ^^'^} . ;j^ VIIL But oh ! if fickle and unchaste, (Forgive a transient thought,) Thou could become unkind at last, And scorn thy present lot, IX. No need of lightnings from on high. Or kites with cruel beak ; Denied th* endearments of thine eye, This widow'd heart would break Vol. I. 17 194 A FABLE. I X. I Thus sang the sweet sequestered bird, { Soft as the passing wind, And I recorded what I heard, A lesson for mankind. A FABLE. A RAVEN, while with glossy breast Her new-laid eggs she fondly press'd, And, on her wicker work high mounted Her chickens prematurely coimted, (A fault philosophers might blame If quite exempted from the same,) Enjoy'd at ease the genial day ; 'Twas April, as the bumpkins say. The legislature call'd it May. I But suddenly a wind as high \ As ever swept a winter sky, I Shook the young leaves about her ears, And fiU'd her with a thousand fears, ,. v Lest the rude blast should snap the bough t And spread her golden hopes below. But just at eve the blowing weather. And all her fears were hush'd together : And now, quoth poor unthinking Ralph, *Tis over, and the brood is safe ; (For ravens, though as birds of omen They teach both conj'rers and old women, To tell us what is to befall. Can't prophesy themselves at all ;) The morning came, when neighbour Hodge Who long had mark'd her airy lodge. A COMPARISON. 95 *' And destined all the treasure there A gift to his expecting fair, CIimb*d like a squirrel to his dray, And bore the worthless prize away* MORAL. *Ti8 Providence alone secures In ey*ry change both mine and jotmi Safety consists not in escape From dangers of a frightful shape > An earthquake may be bid to spare The man that's strangled by a hair. Fate steals along with silent tread, Found ofl'nest in what least we dread, Frowns in the storm with angry brow. But in the sunshine strikes the blow. A COMPARISON. THE lapse of time and rivers is the same, Both speed their journey with a restless stream The silent pace with which they steal away, No wealth can bribe, no pray'rs persuade to stay Alike irrevocable both when past, And a wide ocean swallows both at last. Though each resemble each in ev'ry part, A diflfience strikes at length the musing heart ; . 96 THE POET»S NEW YEAR'S GIFT. Streams never flow in vain ; where streama abound, How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd ' But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected leaves a dreary waste behind. ANOTHER, ADDRESSED TO A YOUNCf LAH*. * . **' : . » V"J V» ril SWEET stream, that winds through yooder gbtae. Apt emblem of a virtuous maid — Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng; With gentie, yet prevailing force, Intent upon her destin'd course-; Graceful and useful all she does, Blessing and bless'd where'er she goes, Pure-bosom'd as that wat'ry glass, And Heav'n reflected in her face. cas^^i Niw^EAR'S GIFT. TO MRS. (NOW lady) THROCKMORTOW. MARIA ! I have ev'ry good For thee wish'd many a time, Both sad and in a cheerful mood, But never yet in rhyme. ODE TO APOLLO. 197 To wish thee fairer is no need, More prudent, or more sprightly, Of more ingenious, or more freed From temper flaws unsightly. What-favour then not yet possess'd Can I for thee require, In wedded love already blest. To thy whole heart's desire ? None here is happy but in part . Full bliss is bliss divine : There dwells some wish in ev*ry hearty And doubtless one in thine. That wish on some &ir future day, Which Fate shall brightly gild, ('Tifl blameless, be it what it may,} I wish it all fulflll'd. ODE TO APOLLO. On an Inkglass almost dried in the « PATRON of all those luckless brains. That, to the wrong side leaning. Indite much metre with much pains, And little or no meaning. fl And why, since oceans, rivers, streams, That water all the nations, Pay tribute to thy glorious beams, In constant exhalations } 17* 198 PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED Why, stooping from the noon of day, Too covetous of drink, Apollo, hast thou stol'n away A poet's drop of ink ? Upborne into the viewless air, It floats a vapour now, Impell'd through regions dense and rare, By all the winds that blow. Ordain'd, perhaps, ere summer fliesj Combin'd with millions more, ^ To form an Iris in the skies, Though black and foul before. Illustrious drop ! and happy then Beyond the happiest lot, Of all that ever passed my pen, So soon to be forgot. Phoebus, if such be thy design, To place it in thy bow. Give wit, that what is left may shine With equal grace below. .ojLicHA OT aao PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED, A FABLE. I SHALL not ask Jean Jaques Rosseaui^ If birds confabulate or no ; • It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philoso* pher, that all fables, which ascribe reason and speech to ani- mals, shonld be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses ? PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED 199 Tifl clear that they were always able To hold discourse — at least in fable ; And e'en the child who knows no better. Than to interpret by the letter, A story of a cock and bull, Must have a most uncommon skull. It chanc'd then on a winter's day, But warm, and bright, and calm as May, The birds, conceiving a design To forestall sweet St. Valentine, In many an orchard, copse, and grove, Assembed on affairs of love. And with much twitter and much chatter, Began to agitate the matter. . -^ At length a Bulfinch, who could boast -^ More years and wisdom than the most, Entreated, op'ning wide his beak, A moment's liberty to speak ; And, silence publickly enjoin'd, Deliver'd briefly thus his mind : My friends ! be cautious how ye treat The subject upon which we meet ; I fear we shall have winter yet. A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, With golden wing, and satin poll, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried What marriage means, thus pert replied : Methinks the gentleman, quoth she. Opposite in the apple tree. By his good will would keep us single Till yonder Heav'n and earth shall mingle Or, (which is likelier to befall,) Till death exterminate us all. I marry without more ado. My dear Diqk Redcap, what say you .'* Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling. Turning short round, strutting, a»d sideling. 800 PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. Attested, glad, his approbatioa Of an immediate conjugation. Their sentiments, so well express'd, Inflnenc'd mightily the rest, All pair 'd, and each pair built a nest. But though the birds were thus in hastOi The leaves came on not quite so fast, And destiny, that sometimes bears An aspect stern on man's affairs, Not altogether smil'd on theirs. The wind of late breath'd gently forth, Now shifted east, and east by north ; Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, Coujd shelter them from rain or snow. Stepping into their nests, they paddled, Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled , Soon ev'ry father bird and mother Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, Parted without the least regret, Except that they had never met ; And learn'd, in future, to be wiser Than to neglect a good adviser. MORAL. Misses ! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry — Choose not alone a proper mate, But proper time, to marry. (201) THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. KO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft oitB Swept Ouse's silent tide, When, scap'd from literary careS) I wander'd on his side. My spaniel, prettiest of his raco, And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs* adorned with ev'ry grace That spaniel found for me.) Now wantoned lost in flags and reods, Now starting into sight, Pursu'd the swallow o'er the meada A« oT With scarce a slower flight. .T It was the time when Ouse displayed His lilies newly blown ; Their beauties I intent surveyed, And one I wish'd my own. With cane extended far I sought To steer it close to land ; But still the prize, though nearly caught, Escap'd my eager hand. * Sir Robert Gunniiig*s daughters 202 THE POET, OYSTER, &c. Beau mark*d my unsuccessful pains With fix'd considerate face, And puzzling set his puppy brains To comprehend the case. But with a cherup clear and strong, Dispersing all his dream, I thence withdrew, and foUow'd long The windings of the stream. My ramble ended, I return'd ; Beau trotting far before, The floating wreath again discem'd. And plunging left the shore. I saw him with that lily cropp'd, Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd The treasure at my feet. Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried, Shall hear of this thy deed : My dog shall mortify the pride Of man's superiour breed : But chief myself 1 will enjoin, Awake at duty's call, To show a love as prompt as thine, To him who gives me alL THE POET, THE OYSTER AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN Oyster, cast upon the shore. Was heard, though never heard before, THE f bfet, OYSTER, «&c. 203 Complaining in a speech well worded. And worthy thus to be recorded — Ah, hapless wretch ! condemned to dwell For ever in my native shell ; Ordain'd to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease • But toss'd, and bu^ettcd about, Now in the water, and now out. *Twere better to bo borne a stone, Of ruder shape and feeling none, Than with a tenderness like mine, And sensibilities so fine ! I envy that unfeeling shrub, Fast rooted against ev'ry rub. The plant he meant grew not far oflf*, And felt the sneer with scorn enough ; Was hurt, disgusted, mortified, And with asperity replied. When, cry the botanists, and stare. Did plants call'd sensitive grow there ? No matter when — ^a poet's muse is. To make them grow just where she chooees You shapeless nothing in a dish. You that are but almost a fish, ' ' ' \ i /'''■* I scorn your coarse insinuatipft,/*^^^*^^'-^^ ^^^^ And have most plentiful occasion, ' To wish myself the rock I view. Or such another dolt as you : For many a grave and learned clerk, A many a gay unletter'd spark, With curious touch examines me, If I can feel as well as he ; And when I bend, retire, and shrink, Says — ^Well, 'tis more than one would think ! Thus life is spent, (oh fie upon't !) O In being touch'd, and crying — ^Don't ! A poet in his ev'ning walk, Overheard, and check'd this idle talk 204 THE SHRUBBERY. And your fine sense, he said, and yours, Whatever evil it endures, Deserves not, if so soon offended, Much to be pitied or commended. Disputes though short, are far too lon^i Where both alike are in the wrong ; Yoiu: feelings in their full amoimt, Are all upon your own account. You, in your grotto work enclosed, Complain of being thus expos'd ; Yet nothing feel in that rough coat, ; .., ^j.-^-p Save when the knife is at your throol^. . u^^ Where'er driv*n by wind or tide, ,^ j Exempt from ev*ry ill beside. g^-^ And as for you, my Lady Squeamiah| ..j^i Who reckon ev*ry touch a blemish, If all the plants that can be found, Embellishing the scene around, Should drop and wither where they grow, You wouM not feel at all — not you. The noblest minds their virtue prove ^ ^-/f By pity, sympathy, and love : ...t These, these are feelings truly fine, And prove their owner half divine. His censure reach 'd them as he dealt itj And each by shrinking showed he felt it. oT THE SHRUBBERY. WRITTEN Xlf A TIME OP AFFLICTiO».' I. -v^l OH happy shades — ^to me unblest ! Friendly to peace, but not to me ! How ill the scene, that offers rest, And heart that cannot rest, agree * mA «K THE WINTER NOSEO^T^^ n. ■" •"•". ;. ^ This glassy stream, that spreadmg piho Those alders quivering to the breeze, Might sooth a soul less hurt than minei ; ^ And please, if any thing could please. | III. But fix*d, unalterable Care Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness ev*ry wherp. And slights the season and the scene. IV. For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn, While peace possessed these silent bow*Ifly Her animating smile withdrawn, Has lost its beauties and its pow'js V. The saint or moralist should tread This moss-grown alley, musing, slow; They seek like me the secret shade, But not ji^ jng tq.npij^i^j^ jfp I Me iruitiul scenes and prospects waste. Alike admonish not to roam 3 These tell me of enjoyments past. And those of sorrows vet to come. 206 /!.* *? JAIITUM THE WlN'TilR NOSEGAt^'' WHAT Nature, alas! has den^dr^ j\rr|3rp To the delicate growth of our isle. Art has in a me*asure supplied, And winter is deck'd with a smile Vol. I ''^ 18 206 MUTUAL FORBEARANCE. See, Mary, what beauties I bring From the shelter of that sunny shed, Where the flow'rs have the charms of the springi i Though abroad they are frozen and dead, * n. *Tis a bow'r of Arcadian sweets, Where Flora is still in her prime, A fortress to which she retreats From the cruel assaults of the clime i While earth wears a mantle of snow, ! These pinks are as fresh and as gay \ As the fairest and sweetest, that blow ■ On the beautiful bosom of May ni. See how they have safely surviv'd The frowns of a sky so severe ; Such Mary's true love, that has liv'd Through many a turbulent year. The charms of the late blowing rose Seem'd grac'd with a livelier hue, And the winter of sorrow best shows, Tho truth of a friend such as you. MUTUAL FORBEARANCE »ECXSSAKY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATE. THE Lady thus address'd her spouse — What a mere dungeon is this house ! By no means large enough ; and was it, Tot this dull room, and that dark closet MUTUAL FORBEARANCE. 207 Those hangings with their worn out graces, Long beards; long noses, and pale faces, Are such an antiquated scene, They overwhelm me with the spleen. Sir Humphrey, shooting in the dark, Makes answer quite beside the mark : No doubt, my dear ; I bade him come, Engaged myself to be at home, And shall expect him at the door, Precisely when the clock strikes four. j You are so deaf, the lady cried, (And rais'd her voice, and frown'd beside,) You are so sadly deaf, my dear, What shall I do to make you hear ? Dismiss poor Harry ! he replies ; Some people are more nice than wise. For one slight trespass all this stir ? What if he did ride whip and spur, 'Twas but a mile — ^your fav'rite horse Will never look one hair the worse. Well, I protest 'tis past all bearing — Child ! I am rather hard of hearing — Yes, truly — one must scream and bawl I tell you, you can't hear at all ! Then with a voice exceeding low. No matter if you hear or no. Alas ! and is domestick stife. That sorest ill of human life, A plague so little to be fear'd. As to be wantonly incurr'd, To gratify a fretful passion. On ev'ry trivial provocation ? ^ The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear ; And something ev'ry day they live, To pity, and, perhaps, forgive. But if infirmities, that fall In common to the lot of all, I THE NEGitO'S COMPLAINT. A blemish or a sense impair 'd, Ate crimes so little to be spar'd, Then farewell all, that must create The comfort of the wedded state ; Instead of harmony, 'tis jar, And tumult, and intestine war. The love that cheers life's latest stage, Proof against sickness and old age. Preserved by virtue from declension, Becomes not weary of attention ; But lives, when that exteriour grace, Which first inspir'd the flame, decays. 'Tis gentle, delicate, and kind, To faults compassionate or blind, And will with sympathy endure Those evils, it would gladly cure : But angry, coarse, and harsh expression Shows love to be a mere profession ; Proves that the heart is none of his« Or soon expels him if it is. THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT FORC'D from home and all its pleasures Afric's coast I left forlorn ; To increase a stranger's treasures, O'er the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me, Paid my price in paltry gold ; But though slave they have enroU'd me, Minds are never to be sold THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. 209 Still in thought as free as ever, What are England's rights I ask| Me from my delights to sever, Me to torture, me to task ? Fleecy locks and black complexion. Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; Skins may differ, but affection fj Dwells in white and black the same Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil- Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords. Is there, as ye sometimes tell us. Is there one, who reigns on high ? Has he bid you buy and sell us. Speaking from his throne, the sky ? Ask him, if your knotted scourges. Matches, blood-extorting screws, Are the means that duty urges Agents of his will to use ? Hark ! he answers — ^wild tornadoes, Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, Are the voice with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations Afric's sons should undergo, Fix'd their tyrants' habitations Where his whirlwinds answer — ^No. By our blood in Afric wasted, ^ Ere our necks receiv'd the chain ; By the mis'ries that we tasted. Crossing in your barks the main , 18* Si 6 PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS. By our sufTrings since ye brought us To the man-degrading mart : All-sustain'd by patience, taught us Only by a broken heart ; Deem our nation brutes no longer, Till some reason ye shall find Worthier of regard, and stronger Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings Tarnish all your boasted pow'rs, Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours ! \ " PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS. Video meliora proboque, Deteriora sequor I OWN I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves, And fear those who buy them and sell them are knaves ; What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and groans, Is almost enough to draw pity from stones. I pity them greatly — but I must bo mum — For how could we do without sugar and rum ? Especially sugar, so needful we see .^ What, give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea ! Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch and Danes, Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains : If we do not buy tne poor creatures, they will, And tortures and groans will be multiplied still. PITY FOR AI'RICANS. 211 If foreigners likewise would give up the trade, Mucn more in behalf of your wish might be said ; But, while they get riches by purchasing blackg, Pray tell me why we may not also go snacks ? Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind A story so pat, you may think it is coin'd On purpose to answer you out of my mint : But I can assure you I saw it in print : A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest, Had once his integrity put to the test ; His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob. And ask'd him to go and assist in the job. He was shock'd, sir, like you, and answer'd— " Oh no ! What ! rob our good neighbour ! I pray you don't go ; Besides, the man's poor, his orchard's his bread, Then think of his children, for they must be fed '* " You speak very fine, and you look very grave^ , ^ But apples we want, and apples we'll have ; . -jy[ If you will go with us, you shall have a share, If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear." They spoke, and Tom ponder'd — " I see they will go ; Poor man ! what a pity to injure him so ! Poor man ! I would save him his fruit if I could But staying behind will do him no good. " If the matter depended alone upon me. His apples might hang till they dropped from the tree ; But since they will take them, I think I'll go to, He will lose none by me, though I get a few." His scruples thus silenc*d, Tom felt more at eaie, And went with his comrades the apples to seize ; He blam'd and protested, but join 'd in the plan : He shar'd in the plunder, but pitied the man. (212) TBB MORNING DREAM. 'TWAS in the glad season of spring, Asleep at the dawn of the day, I dream'd what I cannot but sing, So pleasant it seem'd as I lay. I dream'd, that on ocean afloat. Far hence to the westward I sail'd, While the billows high Ufted tlie boat, And the fresh-blowing breeze never fkird In the steerage a woman I saw, Such at least was the form that she wore^ Whose beauty impress'd me with awe, Ne'er taught me by woman before. She sat, and a shield at her side Shed light like a sun on the waves, And smiling divinely, she cried — " I go to make freemen of slaves." — Then raising her voice to a strain The sweetest that ear ever heard. She sung of the slave's broken chain. Wherever her glory appear'd. Some clouds, which had over us hung Fled, chas'd by her melody clear. And methought while she liberty smi|r, 'Twas liberty only to hear. Thus swiftly dividing the flood. To a slave-cultur'd island we came, Where a demon her enemy stood — Oppression his terrible name. THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOWw6Rk. 213 In his hand, as the sign of his sway, A scourge hung with lashes he bore, And stood looking out for his prey From Africa's sorrowful shore. But soon as approaching the land, That goddess-like woman he view'd, The scourge he let fall from liis hand, With blood of liis subjects imbru*d. I saw him both sicken and die, And the moment the monster expired, Heard shouts that ascended the sky, From thousands with rapture inspired. Awaking, how could I but muse At what such a dream should betide : But soon my ear caught the glad news. Which serv'd my weak thought for a guide<— That Britannia, renown'd o'er the^ waves For the hatred she ever has shown To the black-scepter'd rulers of slares, Resolves to have none of her own.. NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM ' A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long Had cheer'd the village with his songf. Nor yet at eve his note suspended. Nor yet when eventide was endeli, • Began to fee>, as well he mighty The keen demands of appetite j^ 214 THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM When looking eagerly around, He spied far off upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the glow-worm by his spark • So stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm aware of his intent, Harangu'd him thus right eloquent. Did you admire my lamp, quoth ho. As much as I your minstrelsy, You would abhor to do me wrong, As much as I to spoil your song ; For 'twas the self-same pow'r divine Taught you to sing, and me to shine ; That you with musick, I with light, Might beautify and cheer the night The songster heard his short oration. And warbling out his approbation^ Releas'd him as my story tells. And found a supper somewhere else. Hence jarring sectaries may learn Their real int'rest to discern ; That brother should not war with brotheTy And worry and devour each other ; But sing and shine by sweet consent. Till life's poor transient night is spent. Respecting in each other's case The gifts of nature and of grace. Those Christians best deserve the Dame, Who studiously make peace their aim , Peace both the duty and the prize Of him that creeps, and him that flies C215) ON A GOLDFINCH, tTARYSD TO DEATH IK HIS OAGS 1- 1 TIME was when I was free as air, I The thistle's downy seed my fare, I My drmk the mornmg dew ; I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray, My form genteel, my plumage gay, My strains for ever new. II. But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain. And form genteel, were all in vain, And of a transient date ', For caught, and cag'd, and starv*d to death, In dying sighs my little breath Soon pass'd the wiry grate. III. Thanks gentle swun, for all my woet, And thanks for this effectual close And cure of ev'ry ill ! More cruelty could none express ; And I, if you had shown me less, Had been your pris'ner stilL (216) THE PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE. THE pine-apples in triple row, Were basking hot, and all in blow ; A bee of most discerning taste Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pass'd, On eager wing the spoiler came, An^ searched for crannies in the frame, Vrg'h his attempt on ev'ry side, t/rif To ev'ry pane his trunk applied 5 ,,jr£^ But still in vain, the frame was tight, . ^; And only pervious to the light ; Thus having wasted half the day, He trimm'd his flight another way. Methuiks, I said, in thee I find The sin and madness of mankind. . To joys forbidden man aspires, . i^^^^ Consumes his soul with vain desires ; Folly the spring of his pursuit, - And disappointment all the fruit. While Cynthio ogles, as she passes, ^g' * The nymph between two chariot glasses, She is the pine-apple, and he „^ The silly unsuccessful bee. . . / The maid, who views with pensive air '^'' The show-glass fraught with glittering waife^ Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets^ But sighs at thought of empty pockets ; Like thine, her appetite is keen, But ah the cruel glass between. Our dear delights are often such, Expos'd to view but not to touch ', Hat. HORACE, BOOK H. ODE X. 21 The sight our foolish heart inflames, We long for pine-apples in frames ; With hopeless wish one looks and lingers ; One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers ; But they whom truth and wisdom lead, Can gather honey from a weed. HORACE, BOOK II. ODE X. I. RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teich, So shalt thou live beyond the reach Of adverse Fortune's pow'r ; Not always tempt the distant deep, Nor always timorously creep Along the treach'rous shore. II, He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great. Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues, that haunt the rich man's door, Imbltt'ring all his state. III. The tallest pine feels most the pow'r Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tower Comes heaviest to the ground ; The bolts that spare the mountain's sidey His cloud-capt eminence divide. And spread the ruin round. Vol. I. 19 218" A REFLECTION, &c. IV. The well-inform'd philosopher Rejoices with a wholesome fear, And hopes in spite of pain ; ''<^* If winter bellow from the north, -^i^fi Soon tfie sweet spring comes dancing fortl^ ' And nature laughs again. V. What if thine Heav*nbe overcast, The dark appearance will not laat j Expect a brighter sky. / The God that strings the silver bow, / Awakes sometimes the muses too And lays his arrows by. VI. If hindrances obstruct thy way, Thy magnanimity display, And let thy strength be seen ; But oh ! if Fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious galo, Take half thy canvass in. A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOIJNTG ODE. AND is this all ? Can reason do no more, Than bid mo shun the deep, and dread the shore. Sweet moralist ? afloat on life's rough sea. Tlie Christian has an art unknown to theo. He holds no parley with unmanly fears ; Where duty bids, he confidently steers. Faces a thousand dangers at her call, And, trusting in his God, surmounts them «&. (219) THE LILY AND THE ROSE. I. THE Nymph must lose her female friend. If more admir'd than she — But where will fierce contention end. If flow'rs can disagree ? II. Within the garden's peaceful scene Appear'd two lovely foes, Aspiring to the rank of queen, The Lily and the Rose. III. . The Rose soon redden'd into rage. And swelling with disdain, Appeal'd to many a poet's page. To prove her right to reign. IV. The Lily's height bespoke command, A fair imperial flow'r ; She seem'd design'd for Flora's handy The sceptre of her pow'r. V. This civil bick'ring and debate The goddess chanc'd to hear. And flew to save, ere yet too late, The pride of the parterre ; VL Yours is, she said, the nobler hue, And yours the stateliei mien : And till a third surpasses you. Let each be de^m'd a queen 220 LILIUM ET ROSA. VII. Thus, sooth'd and reconcird, each seek* The fairest British fair, The seat of empire is her cheeks Th^ reign united there. IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. I. HEU inimicitias quoties parit »mula forma, Quam raro pulchroB pulchra placere potest > Sod fines ultra solitos discordia tendit, Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent. 11. Hortus ubi dulces praebet tacitosque recussus, Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas ; Hie sibi regales Amaryllis Candida cultus, Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa. III. Ira Rosam et meritis quaesita superbia tangunt, Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinu, Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina yatnniy Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat. IV. Altior emicat ilia, et celso vertice nutat, Ceu flores inter non habitura parem, Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usus Imperii, sceptnun. Flora quod ipsa gerat. V. Nee Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixas, Cui curse est pictas pandere ruris opes. Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tneri, Dum licet et locus est, ut tueatur, adest. THE POPLAR FIELD. 221 VI. Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit ; Et tibi, p'rincipibus qui solet esse, color ; Et donee vincat quaedam formosior ambas, Et tibi reginas nomen, et esto tibi. VII. His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham, Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit ; Hanc penes imperium est, nihil optant amplius, hujitf Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis. THE POPLAR FIELD THE poplars are fell'd, farewell to the shade, And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade ; The winds play no longer and sing in the leavea. Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. Twelve years have elaps'd since I last took a view Of my fav'rite field, and the bank where they grew. And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade. The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene, where his melody charm'd me before. Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. My fugitive years are all hasting away, And I must ere long lie as lowly as thoy. With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head^ Gre another such grove shall arise in its stead Tis a sight to engage me, if any thing can, To muse on the perishing pleasures of man , 19* 222 IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I seOi Have a being less durable even than he.* IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. POPULEiE cecidit gratissima copia silvesy Conticuere susurri, omnisque evanuit umbra. NuUsB jam levibus se miscent frondibus aursB| Et nulla in fluvio ramorum ludit imago. Hei mihi ! bis senos dum luctu torqueor annos. His cogor silvis suetoque carere recessu Cum sero rediens ; stratasque in gramine cemens, Insedi arboribus, sub queis orrare solebam. Ah ubi nunc merulae cantus ? Felicior ilium Silva tegit, dures nondum permissa bipenni ; Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit. Sed qui succisas doleo succidar et ipse, Et prius huic parillis quam creverit altera silva Flebor, et, exequiis parvis donatus, habebo Defixum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum. Tam subito periisse videns tam digna manere, Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata — Sit licet ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbrsB Est homini brevior citiusque obitura voluptas. * Mr Cowper afterwards altered tliis last stanza in tht following manner : ^^^ The change both my heart and my fancy employs I reflect on the frailty of man, and his joys; Short-livM as we are, yet our pleasures, we see, Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we. (2»3) VOTUM- O MATUTINl rores, aurseque salubres, O nemora, et Isetse rivis felicibus herboe, Graminei colles, et amaenaB in valUbuB umbras ! Fata modo dederint quas olim in rure patemo Delicias, procul arte procul formidine novi, Quam vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper avebat, Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senectam, Turn demum, exactis non infeliciter annis, Sortiri taciturn lapidem, aut sub cespide condi ! CICINDELA. BT VINCENT BOURNE. Sub sepe exiguum est, nee rare in margine ripsB, Reptile, quod lucet nocte, dieque latet. Vermis habet speciem, sed habet de lumine nomen; At prisca a fama non liquet, unde micet. Plerique a cauda credunt procedere lumen ; Nee desunt, credunt qui rutilare caput. Nam superas stellas quse nox accendit, et illi Parcam eadem lucem dat, moduloque parem. Forsitan hoc prudens voluit Natura caveri, No pede quis duro reptile contereret. Exigiiam, in tenebris ne gressum offenderet uUus, FroBtendi voluit forsitan ilia facem. Sive usum hunc Natura parens, seu maluit ilium, Haud frustra accensa est lux, radiique dati. Pcmite vos fastus, humiles nee spernite, magni ; Quando habet et minimum reptile, quod niteat. (224) I THE GLOW-WORM. TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING. I. BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream A worm is known to stray, That shows by night a lucid beam, "Which disappears by day. II. Disputes have been, and still prevail, From whence his rays proceed ; Some give that honour to his tail, And others to his head. III. But this is sure — the hand of might, That kindles up the skies. Gives him a modicum of light Proportion'd to his size. IV. Perhaps indulgent Nature meant, By such a lamp bestow'd, To bid the traveller, as he went, Be careful where he trod ; / V. Nor crush a worm, whose useful light Might serve, however small, So show a stumbling stone by night, And save him from a fall. VI. Whate'er she meant, this truth divine Is legible and plain, *Tis pow'r almighty bids him shine, Nor bids him shine in vain. CORNICULA. 225 VII Te proud and wealthy, let this theme Teach humbler thoughts to you, Smce such a reptile has its gem, And boasts its splendour too. | CORNICULA. BY VINCENT BOURNE, NIGRAS inter aves avis esrt, quae plunma turrefl Antiquas aedes, celsaque Fana colit. Nil tam sublime est, quod non audace volatu, Aeriis spernens inferiora, petit. Quo nemo ascendat, cui non vertigo cerebrum Corripiat, certe hunc seligit ilia locum. Quo vix a terra tu ^uspicis absque tremore, Ilia metu expers incolumisque sedet. Lamina delubri supra fastigia, ventus Qua coBli spiret de regione, docet ; Hanc ea prae reliquis mavult, sceuri poricli, Nee curat, nedum cogitat, undo cadet. Res inde humanus, sed summa per otia, spectat^ Et nihil ad sese, quas videt, esse videt. Concursus spectat, plateaque negotia in omni, Omnia pro nugis at sapienter habet. Clam ores, quas infra audit, si forsitan audit. Pro rebus nihiU negligit, et crocitat. Ille tibi invideat, felix Cornicula, pennae, Qui sic humanis rebusse velit (226) II. THE JACKDAW. TRANSLATION OF THE FORXGOINO. I. THERE is a bird who by his coat, Aud by the hoarseness of his note. Might be suppos'd a crow ; A great frequenter of the churchy Where bishop-like he finds a perch, And dormitory too. n. Above the steeple shines a plate, That turns and turns to indicate From what point blows the weather ; Look up — ^your brains begin to swim, 'Tis in the clouds — that pleases him, He chooses it the rather. m. Fond of the speculative height, Thither he wings his airy flight, And thence securely sees The bustle of the raree show. That occupy mankind below. Secure and at his ease. IV. Tou think, no doubt, he sits and mofes On future broken bones and bruisei. If he should chance to fall. No : not a single thought like thai Employs his philosophick pate. Or trouVles it at all AD GRILLUM. 227 V. He sees, that this greut roundabout, The world, with all its motley rout, Church, army, physick, law, Its customs, and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his. And says — ^what says he ? — Caw. VI. Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men; And, sick of having seen *em. Would cheerfully these limbs resiga For such a pair of wings as thine. And such a head between 'em. AD GRILLUM ANACREOMTICUH. BY TINCSKT BOVRHB*^ O QUI me® culin® Argutulus choraulefl, £t hospes es canorus, Quacimquo commorena Felicitatis omen ; Jucundiore cantu Siquando me salutes, £t ipse te rependam, £t ipse, qua valebo, Remunerabo musa. (229) HL THE CRICKET. TRASBJULTIOV OF TBE VOBEOOIIKO^ ^ L kJTTLE inmate, full of mirth, Chirping on my kitchen hearth, Wheresoe'er be thine abode, Always harbinger of good, Pay me for thy warm retreat With a song more soil and sweet In return thou shalt receive Such a strun as I can give. n. Thus thy praise shall be ezpress'd, Inoffensive, welcome guest ! While the rat is on the scout, And the mouse with curious snooti With what vermin else infest £v*ry dish, and spoil the best ; Frisking thus before the fire. Thou hast all thme heart's desire. in. Though in voice and shape they hm Form'd as if akin to thee, Thou surpassest, happier far, Happiest grasshoppers that are ; Theirs is but a summer's song-, Th'iie endures the winter \on<r. Unimpair'd, and slirill and clrtar, Melody throughout tlie year. ao 230 SIMILE AGIT IN SIMILE. IV. Neither night, nor dawn of day, Puts a period to thy play ; Sing then — and extend thy span Far beyond the date of man. Wretched man whose years are spent In repining discontent, Lives not, aged though he be, Haifa span compared with thee. SIMILE AGIT IN SIMILE By Yli^CENT BoijRinfi. CRISTATUS, pictisque ad Thaida Psittacus alli, Missus ab Eoo munus amante venit. Ancillis mandat primam formare loquelam, Archididascaliae dat sibi Thais opus. Psittace, ait Thais, fingitque sonantia molle Basia, quaB docilis molle refingit avis. Jam captat, jam dimidiat tyrunculis ; et jam Integrat auditos articulatque sonos. Psittace mi pulcher pulchelle, hera dicit alumno ; Psittace mi pulcher, reddit alumnus hersB. Jamque canit, ridet, deciesque sBgrotat in hora, Et vocat ancillas nomine quamque suo. Multaque scurratur mendax, et multa jocatur, Et lepido populum detinet augurio. Nunc tremulum illudet fratrem, qui suspicit, et Pol . Garnalis, quisquis te docet, in quit, homo est ; Argutae nunc stridet anus argutulus instar ; Respicit, et nebulo es, quisquis es, inquit anus. Quando fuit melior tyro, meliofve magistra ! Quando duo ingeniJs tarn eoicro pares ' Ardua discenti nulla est, res nulla docenti Ardua ; cum dcceat fcEmina, discat avis. (231) ly. THE PARROT. TEAI^SLaYiON of the F0RE601ir«. I. IN painted plumes superbly dressM, A native of the gorgeous east, By many a billow toss'd ; Poll gains at length the British shorOy Part of the captain's precious store, A present to his toast. II. Belinda*s maids are soon preferr'd To teach him now and then a word. As Poll can master it ; But 'tis her own important charge, To quaUfy him more at large, And make liim quite a wit. m. Sweet Poll ! his doating mistress crieiy Sweet Poll ! the mimick bird repliei ; And calls aloud for sack. She next instructs him in the kiss ; 'Tis now a little one, like Miss And now a hearty smack. IV. At first he aims at what he hears ; And list'ning close with both his ears, Just catches at the sound ; B\it soon articulates aloud, Much to the amusement of the crowd. And stuns the neighbours round. 232 TRANSLAli'ON, &c. V. A querulous old woman's voice His hum'rous talent next employs, He scolds, and gives the lie. And now he sings, and now is sick, Here, Sally, Susan, come, cojfte ^uick. Poor Poll is like to die ! VI Belinda and her bird ! 'tis rare To meet with such a well-match'd pair> The language and the tone, Each character in ev'ry part Sustaia'd with so much gracd and arty And both in unison. VII. When children first begin to spell, And stammer out a syllable, We think them tedious creatures ; But difficulties soon abate, When birds are to be taught to prate, And women are the teachers. TRANSLATION OF PRIOR'S CHLOE AND EUPHELIA I. MERCATOR, yigiles oculos ut fallere posnt, Nomine sub ficto trans mare mittit opei ; Lene sonat liquidumque meis Euphelia chordi% Sed solam exoptant te, mea vota, Chloe. HISTORY OF JOHN GH^PIN. 233 n. Ad speculum omabat nitidos Buphelia crines, Cum dixit mea lux, heus, cane, sume lyram. ' Namque lyram juxta positam cum carmine vidit Suave quidem carmen dulcisonamque lyram m. Fila lyrsB vocemque paro, suspiria surgunt^ Et miscent nimieris murmura maesta meis Dumquo tujB meraoro laudes, Euphelia, f»irm8B, Tota anima interea pendet ab ore Chloea IV. Subrubet ilia pudore, et contrahit altera frontem Me torquet mea mens conscia, psallo, tremo ; Atque Cupidinea, dixit Dea cincta corona, Heu ! fallendi artem quam didicere parum. THE DIVERTING HISTORY JOHN GILPIN; Showing hoto he went further than he intended^ and eame safe home again. JQ&t GILPIN was a: citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke was he Of famous London town. John Gilpm^s spouse said to her deary Though wedded we have been Tnese twice ten tedious years, yet wo No holy-day have seen. 20* 234 HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN To-morrow is our wedding-day, And we will then repair Unto the bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair. My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three. Will fill the chaise ; so you must ridt On horseback after we. He soon replied, I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest deary Therefore it shall be done. I am a linen-draper bold. As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go. Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, that's well saidy And for that wine is dear, We will be furnish'd with our own, Which is both bright and clear. John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife ; O'erjoy'd was he to find. That though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind. The morning came, the chaise was brought^ But yet was not allow'd To drive up to the door, lest all Should say that she was proud. So three doors off the chaise was eUj% Where they did all get in ; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. 235 Smack went the whip, round went the wheelf, Were never folk so glad ; The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad. John Gilpin at his horse's side Seiz'd fast the flowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride, But soon came down again ; For saddle-tree scarce reach'd hid hOi His journey to begin, When turning round his head, he iaw Three customers come in. So down he came , for loss of time Although it griev'd him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, * Would trouble him much more. *Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down staufi « The wme is left behmd !" Good lack ! quoth he — ^yet bring it nuBi My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword. When I do exercise. Now mistress Gilpin, (careful sonl !) Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she lov'd, And keep it safe and sound. Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt ho drew, And hung a bottle on each side. To make his balance true. 236 HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. - Then over all, that he might be Equipped from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat H-e manfully did throw. Now see him mounted once agaia Upon his nimble steed. Full slowly pacing o'er the stonefy With caution and good heed. : :; -\ But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well shod feet, The snorting beast began to troty Which gaird him in his seat. So fair and softly, John he criedy But John he cried in vain, That trot became a gallop soon. In spite of curb and rein. ^ So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, He grasp'd the mane with both his .liaiMl% And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before. What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more. Away went Gilpin» neck or naught ; Away went hat and wig ; He little dreamt when he set out. Of running such a rig. .^j- :i rc^j. Lui, The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, ' Like streamer long and gay. Tin, loop and button failing both, At last it flew away. HISTORY OB^ JOHN GILPIN. 237 Then might ^11 people well discern The bottles he had slung ; A bottle swinging at each side, As hath been said or sung. The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all ; And ev'ry soul cried out, well done ! As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin — ^who but he? His fame soon spread aroimd, Ho carries weight ! he rides a race ! *Tis for a thousand pound ! And still, as fast as he drew near, *Twas wonderful to view, How in a trice the turnpike men ^ Their gates wide open threw. i And now as he went bowing down . His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back Were shatter'd at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road. Most piteous to be seen. Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he seem'd to carry weighty With leathern girdle brac'd ; For all might see the bottle-neckfl Still dangling at his waist. Thns all throug \ merry Islington These merry gambols he did pky. Until he came unto the Wash Of Edmonton so gay ; 238 HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. And there he threw the wash about On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play. At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wond'ring mnch To see how he did ride. Stop, stop, John Gilpin— Here's the house— They all at once did cry ; The dinner waits, and we are tir'd ; Said Gilpin — So am I ! But yet his horse was not a whit Inclin'd to tarry there ; I For why ? — his owner had a house l Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me' to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will. Till at his friend the calendei His horse at last stood still. The calender, amaz'd to see His neighbour ih such trim. Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate. And thus accosted him : • ^v^n^o iiil8 What news ? what news ? your tidings tell ? Tell me you must and shall — Say why bareheaded you arc como, Or why ycu como at all ? HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. 239 Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And lov'd a timely joke ; And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke ; ;, , I came because your horse would come {-^.ry/ And, if I well forbode, My hat and wig will soon be here. They are upon the road. The calender right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Return'd him not a single wordy But to the house went in : Whence straight he came with hat and wig A wig that flow'd behind, A hat not much the worse for wear;. Each comely in its kind. He held them up, and in his turn Thus show'd his ready wit. My head is twice as big as yours, ^ p, j They therefore needs must fit. ^ j^ But let me scrape the dirt away dissoi oiiT That hangs upon your face ; ., ^. , . , . .-. ,- And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case. Said John, it is my wedding dayj -<>,^ ♦^^j j,,fr And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmontoni And I should dine at Ware. So turning to his horse, he saidi I am in haste to dine ; *Twas for your pleasure you came hero. You shall go back for mine 240 HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast » For which he paid full dear ; For, while he spake, a Braying asf Did sing most loud and clear. Whereat his horse did snort, as h© Had heard a lion roar, And gallop'd off with all his might, As he had done before. .IT Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig ; ' He lost them sooner than at firrty ^^ For why — they were too big. Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, Slje puUM out half a crown ; And thus unto the youth she said, That drove them to the Bell, This shall be yours, when you bring twek My husband safe and well. The youth did ride, and soon did meet, John coming back amain : Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein ; But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, ''^ And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels. The postboy's horse right glad to The lurab'ring of the wheels. inSTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. 241 Six gentlemen upon the road. Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy ic«iiiip^jfiHgiinj<liiB rear, They rais'd the hue and cry : — Stop thief! stop thief! — a highwajrman* Not one of them was mute ; AiibKFaU ilni eich tliil^i^s^d that Wiftjr Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short»: :Space ; The toll-men thinking as before, That Gilpui. xodei a xace. And 80 ho <U4f a^d won it too. For he got first to town ; Nor stopp'd tiil where he did get up He did aga^l get 4oy(r|ij, ,,^^ , , , ^ Now let us sing, lon^ Ifvii i&e ISiig, And Gilpin long Ktre he ; And when he next doth ride abroad, May Ibe there to see! >o ibfq^;^ Vol. I nq hiofiv/ AN EPISTLE AN AFFUCTED PROTESTANT LADY IN FRANCE. Madaniy -.r.n vin A STRANGER'S purpose in these li^""^^^ Is to congratulate, and not to praise. To give the creature the Creator's due Were sin in me, and an offence to you. From man to man, or e'en to woman paid Praise is the medium of a knavish trade, A coin by Craft for Folly's use design'd, Spurious, and only current with the blind. The path of sorrow, and that path aloms Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown * No trav'ller ever reach'd that blest abode^ Who found not thorns and briers in the road. The World may dance along the flow'ry plain, Cheer'd as they go by many a sprightly strain, Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread. With unshod feet they yet securely tread ; Admonish'd, scorn the caution and the friend, Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end. But he, who knew what human hearts would proT»| How slow to learn the dictates of his love, That, hard by nature and of stubborn will, A life of ease would make them harder stilly AN EPISTLE TO A LADY. 243 In pity to the souls his grace design*d To rescue from the ruins of mankind, Call'd for a cloud to darken all their years, And said, " Go, spend them in the vale of teaPB.** O balmy gales of soul-reviving air ! O salutary streams that murmur there ! These flowing from t'he fount of grace above, Those breath 'd from lips of everlasting love. The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys ; Chill blasts of trouble nip their springing joys; An envious world will interpose its frowou To mar delights superiour to its o^^ And many a pang, oxperienc'd still within Remind tliem of their hated inmate, sin ; But ills of ev*ry shade and ev'ry name, Transformed to blessings, miss their cruel aim; And ev'ry moment's calm, that soothes the breasty Isgiv'n in earnest of eternal rest Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast Far from the flock, and in a boundless waste ! No shepherds' tents within thy view appear. But the chief Shepherd even there is near ; Thy tender sorrows, and thy plaintive strain Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain ; Thy tears aU issue from a source divine, And ovVy drop bespeaks a Saviour thine — So once in Gideon's fleece the dews were fbnnd, And drongH on all the drooping herbs aronnd. (244) ■ ty filial TO THE ;.,^. .f ' '^' *• ' :.;? l/iif. t REV; W. CAWTHORNE UNWDl u/ I. UNWIN, I should but ill repay The kindness of a friend, Whose worth deserves as warm a lay As ever friendship penn*d, Thy name omitted in a page That would reclaim a vicious ag©. ^_""; '; ^.■■' II.' A uiuon form*d, as mine with the«| Not rashly, nor in sport, May be as fervent in degree, And faithful in its sort, And may as rich m comfort prove, As that of Itij^e fraternal ioye. The bud mserted in the rind,; .1.1 « m ^^r.ii The bud of peach or rose, ^ ila eiisai jii'V Adorns, though differing in its kMi ...ifi 7-1 vj> hnA The stock whereon it grows, u-..>hiO ai aami ^-i With.flaw*r as sweet, or fri^t as fair,, . Hjiifoib f ^ As if produc 'd by Nature there. IV. Not rich, I render what I may, I seize thy name in haste, And place it in this first essay, Lest this should prove the last. 'Tis where it should be — in a plan, That holds in view the good of man. TO THE REV. W. C. UNWIN. 245 V. The poet's lyre, to fix his fame.. Should be the poet's heart ', Afibction lights a brighter flame Than ever blaz*d by art. No muses on these lines attend> I sink the poet in the friend. END OF VOL. I. POEMS, ^ BT WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. TOOETHEH WITH HIS POSTHUMOUS POETRY, Ain> A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE BY JOHN JOHNSON, LL. D. THREE VOLUMES IN ONE. NEW EDITION. BOSTON: PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY. NEW YORK : J. C. DERBY. 1855. ^ ,^. MaOl paa Ha^Y/oii mau Yii'V^i^'] 3U0M' ADVERTISEMENT. The history of the following production, is briefly tJiiy A lady, fond of blank voreo, demanded a poem of that kind from the author, and gave him the Sofa for a subject. He obeyed ; and, having much leisure, connected another subject with it ; and pursuing the train of thought to which his situation and turn of mind led him, brought forth, at length, instead of the trifle which he at first intended, a serious aflfair — a Volume ' In the poem on the suoject of Education, ho would be very sorry to stand suspected of having aimed his censure at any particular schoo). His objections are such as naturally apply themselves to schools in ge- neral. If there were not, as for the most part there is, wilful neglect in those who manage them, and an omission even of such discinline as they are suscepti- ADVERTISEMENT. bie of, the objects are yet too numerous for minute attention : and the aching hearts of ten thousand pa- rents, mourning under th« bitterest of all disappoint- ments, attest the truth of the allegation. His quarrel, therefore, is with the mischief at large, and not witk any particular instance of it. -Ci^t- CONTENTS. C;i;> Thb Task, in Six bQok». - - .1 loi ornQiWIb -Bool/l^Thft Sofe, - * ' ^^- '^ ^^^- ''%^. 7 I O^The Time-piece, ->^4; l-^JLon - 29 oTB ':hie Garden, ^ - - - - 52 fh^ Winter Eveningr, - - • ^76 le Winter Morning Walk/-/:? ^ "IIT ^^ he Winter Walk at noon, -3^7- ^"*^/l23 >seph Hill, Esq. - - - . 155 Tirocinium : or, a Review of Schools, - - ib. ^ To the Reverend Mr. Newton, - - . 180 \/ >n the Receipt of my Mother's Picture but (if ^,*..<.,,,,^ No/folk, ^SE^ Friendship, - • 185 The Moralizer corrected, ... 191 Catharina, • 193 The Faitliful Bird, 195 l^he Needless Alarm, - - - - 196 Boadipea, . . . « 200 Heroism, - - - - 202 On a mischievous Bull, which the Owner of him spld at the Author's instance, - - 205 Annus Memorablis, 1789. Written in comme- moration of his majesty's happy's reco- very, 206 Hymn for the use of the Sunday School at 01* ney, . - . - - 208 i^ CONTENTS. Pag* Stanis««/ subjoined to a Bill of Mortality for the yearl78r^ • - -209 The same for 1788, - 'U^/'OC) • - 211 The same for 1789, . - . . . 213 The same for 1790, 214 The same for 1792, - . . - - 216 The same for 1793, - - . - - - 21S Inscription for the tomb of Mr. Hamilton, • 220. » * Epitaph on a Hare - , - - - - ^5^ \/ Epitaphium Alteram, 222 Accountof the Authc!j*ft^5Ba|m^t of Hares, - 221 W ^rrifnoM ir> THE TASK* THE SOFA. ARGUMENT OP THE FIRST BOOK. Historical deduction of seats^ from the Stool to the Sofa — A Schoolboy's ramble — A walk in the country — The scene described — Rural sounds as well as sights delightful — AnoTher walk- Mistake concerning the charms of solitude corrected — Colonnades commended — Alcove, and the view from it — The wilderness- The grove — The thresher — The necessity and benefit of exercise —The works of nature superiour to, and'in some instances inimi- table by, art — The wearisomeness of what is commonly called a life of pleasure — Change of scene sometimes expedient— A com- mon described, and the character of crazy Kate introduced — Gipsies — The blessings of civilized life — That state most favour- able to virtue — The South Sea islanders compassionated, but chiefly Omai — His present state of mind supposed — Civilized life friendly to virtue, but not great cities — Great cities, and Lon- don in particular, allowed their due praise, but censured — F^te champ^tre — The book concludes with a reflection on the fatal effects of dissipation and effeminacy upon our public measures. I SING the Sofa. I, who lately sang Truth, Hope, and Charity,* and touch'd with awe The solemn chords, and, with a trembling hemd, Escap'd with pain from that advent'rous flight, Now seek repose upon an humbler theme ; 6 The theme, though humble, yet august and proud Th' occasion — for the fair commands the song. Time was, when clothing, sumptuous or for use, Save their own painted skins, our sires had none As yet black breeches were not ; satin smooth, 10 Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile : The hardy chief, upon the rugged rock Wash'd by the sea, or on the gr«avelly bank * See Foems, Voi-. I- ^ THE TASK. Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud, Fearless of wrong, repos'd his weary strength. 15 Those barb'rous ages past, succeeded next The birthday of Invention ; weak at first, Dull in design, and clumsy to perform. Joint-stools were then created ; on three legs Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm 20 A massy b!ab, in fashion square or round. On such a stool immortal Alfred sat, And sway'd the sceptre of his infant realms : And such in ancient halls and mansions drear May still be seen ; but perforated sore, 25 And drill'd in holes, the solid oak is found. By worms voracious eating through and through. At length a generation more refin'd Improv'd the simple plan ; made three legs four, Gave them a twisted form vermicular, 30 And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stu^Td, jnduc'd a splendid cover, green and blue. Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought And woven close, or needlework sublime. There might ye see the piony spread wide, 35 The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass, Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes. And parrots with twin cherries in their beak. Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright, With nature's varnish ; sever'd into stripes, 4# That interlac'd each other, these supplied Of texture firm a lattice-work, that brac'd The new machine, and it became a chair. But restless was the chair ; th6 back erect Distress'd the weary loins, that felt no ease ; 45 The slipp'ry seat betrayed the sliding part That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling down, Anx:ious in vain to find the distant floor. These for the rich ; the rest, whom Fate had plac'd in modest mediocrity, content 50 With base materials, sat on well-tann'd hides, THE SOFA. 9 Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth, With here and there a tuft of crimson yarn, Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fix'd, If cushion might be call'd, what harder seem'd 55 Than the firm oak, of which the frame was formed. No want of timber then was felt or fear'd In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stood Pond'rous and fix'd by its own massy weight. But elbo\ys still were wanting ; these, some say, 60 An alderman of Cripplegate contrived ; And some ascribe th' invention to a priest Burly, and big, and studious of his ease. But rude at first, and not with easy slope Receding wide, they press'd against the ribs, 65 And bruis'd the side ; and, elevated high. Taught the rais'd shoulders to invade the ears. Long time elaps'd or e'er our rugged sires Complain'd, though incommodiously pent m, And ill at ease behind. The ladies first 70 Gan murmur, as became the softer sex.^ Ingenious Fancy, never better pleas'd Than when employ'd t' accommodate the fair, Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devis'd The soft settee ; one elbow at each end, 76 And in the midst an elbow it receiv'd. United, yet divided, twain at once. So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne ; And so two citizens, who take the air. Close pack'd, and smiling, in a chaise and one. 80 But relaxation of the languid frame. By soft recumbency of outstretch'd limbs. Was bliss reserv'd for happier days. So slow The growth of what is excellent ; so hard T' attain perfection in this nether world. 85 Thus first Necessity invented stools. Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, And Luxury th' accomplish'd Sofa last. 10 THE TASK. The nurse sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch the sick Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he, 90 Who quits the coach-box at a midnight hour, To sleep within the carriage more secure, His legs depending at the open door. Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk, The tedious rector drawling o'er his head ; 95 And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead ; Nor his, who quits the box at midnight hour To slumber in the carriage more secure ; Nor sleep enjoy 'd by curate in his desk ; 100 Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are sweet, Compar'd with the