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Published by Isaiah Thomas 1793.
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Beauties of the Muses. OR, SELECT SENTIMENTAL POEMS AND ELEGIES, VIZ.
- I. THE HERMIT. By Dr. PARNELL.
- II. ELEGY IN A CHURCH YARD. By Mr. Gray.
- III. THE TRAVELLER. By Dr. GOLDSMITH.
- IV. DEATH. A POEM. By Dr. PORTEUS.
- V. DESERTED VILLAGE. By Dr. GOLDSMITH.
- VI. HERMIT OF THE DALE. By Ditto.
- VII. FUTURITY. Extract from Dr. DODD.
TO WAKE THE SOUL—
—TO MEND THE HEART.
Illustrated with beautiful Engravings.
Printed at Worcester, BY ISAIAH THOMAS. Sold at his Bookstore in WORCESTER; by said THOMAS, and ANDREWS, in BOSTON; and by said THOMAS, and CARLISLE, in WALPOLE, Newhampshire. MDCCXCIII.
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Preface.
THE sentiment and beauty, contained in the Poetry of this Collection, being so universally admired, that, at the request of a number of friends, the Editor has been induced to lay them before the publick, in one Volume.
The owner of this little work, will find it no disgraceful companion: And the merit of the authors of the several pieces contained in it, is such, as to claim a place in the best libraries.
Worcester, 1793.
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Contents.
- 1. THE Hermit. By Dr. Parnell. Page. 5
- 2. Elegy; written in a Country Church Yard. By Mr. Gray. Page. 35
- The Epitaph. Page. 47
- 3. The Traveller; or a Prospect of Society. By Dr. Goldsmith. Page. 51
- 4. Death. A Poem. By Dr. Porteus. Page. 93
- 5. The Deserted Village. By Dr. Goldsmith. Page. 127
- 6. Hermit of the Dale. A Ballad, from the Vicar of Wakefield. Page. 171
- 7. Futurity. By Dr. Dodd. Page. 185
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THE HERMIT. [By Dr. PARNELL.]
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THE HERMIT.
—I may assert eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to man.
MILTON.
FAR in a wild, unknown to publick view,
From youth to age a rev'rend Hermit grew;
The moss his bed—the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well.
[Page 6]Remote from man, with God he pass'd his days,
Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
A life so sacred, such serene repose,
Seem'd heav'n itself, till one suggestion rose;
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey;
This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway.
His hopes no more a certain prospect boast,
And all the tenor of his soul is lost.
So when a smooth expanse receives impress'd
Calm Nature's image on its wat'ry breast,
[Page 7]Down bend the banks, the trees impending grow,
And skies beneath with answering colours glow.
But if a stone the gentle sea divide,
Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry side;
And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun;
Banks, trees, and skies in thick disorder run.
To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight,
To find if books or swains report it right,
(For yet by swains alone the world he knew,
Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew)
[Page 8]He quits his cell; the pilgrim's staff he bore,
And fix'd the scallop in his hat before;
Then with the sun a rising journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.
The morn was wasted in the pathless grass,
And long and lonesome was the wild to pass:
But when the southern sun had warm'd the day,
A youth came posting o'er a crossing way;
His raiment decent, his complexion fair,
And soft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair.
[Page 9]Then near approaching, Father, hail! he cry'd;
And hail, my son! the rev'rend sire reply'd;
Words follow'd words, from question answer flow'd,
And talk of various kinds deceiv'd the road;
Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their age they differ, join in heart.
Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound,
Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around.—
But here the youth enjoin'd the eager sire,
Who into hidden truths did much inquire,
[Page 10]If he'd in silence each event behold,
He wou'd to him some wond'rous things unfold.
Now sunk the sun—closing hour of day
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey;
Nature in silence bid the world repose;
When near the road a stately palace rose:
There by the moon, thro' ranks of trees they pass,
Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass.
It chanc'd, the noble master of the dome
Still made his house the wand'ring stranger's home.
[Page 11]Yet still his kindness, from a thirst of praise,
Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease.
The pair arrive, the livery'd servants wait;
Their lord receives them at the pompous gate;
The table groans with costly piles of food,
And all is more than hospitably good.
Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown,
Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down.
At length 'tis morn▪ and at the dawn of day
Along the wide canals the zephyrs play;
[Page 12]Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep,
And shake the neighbouring wood to banish sleep.
Up rise the guests, obedient to the call;
An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall;
Rich, luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd,
Which the kind master forc'd his guests to taste:
Then pleas'd and thankful from the porch they go,
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe;
His cup was vanish'd; for in secret guise
The younger guest purloin'd the glittering prize.
[Page 13]Now on they pass—when far upon the road,
The wealthy spoil the wily partner shew'd.
As one who spies a serpent in his way
Glist'ning and basking in the summer ray,
Disorder'd stops, to shun the danger near,
Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear:
So seem'd the sire, he walk'd with trembling heart:
And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part:
*
Murm'ring, he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard,
That gen'rous actions meet a base reward.
[Page 14]While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds,
The changing skies hang out their sable clouds;
A sound in air presag'd approaching rain,
And beasts to coverts scud across the plain.
Warn'd by the signs, the wand'ring pair retreat,
To seek for shelter at a neighb'ring seat:
'Twas built with turrets on a rising ground,
And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around:
Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe,
Unkind and griping, caus'd a desart there.
[Page 15]As near the miser's heavy door they drew,
Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew;
The nimble lightning mix'd with show'rs began,
And o'er their heads loud rolling thunder ran.
Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain,
Driv'n by the wind, and batter'd by the rain.
At length some pity warm'd the master's breast:
('Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest.)
Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care,
And half he welcomes in the shiv'ring pair;
[Page 16]One frugal faggot lights the naked walls,
And Nature's fervour through their limbs recals:
Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine,
Each hardly granted, serv'd them both to dine;
And when the tempest first appear'd to cease,
A ready warning bid them part in peace.
With still remark the pondering Hermit view'd,
In one so rich, a life so poor and rude;
And, Why should such, within himself he cry'd,
Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside?
[Page 17]But what new marks of wonder soon took place
In every setting feature of his face!
When, from his vest, the young companion bore
That cup the generous landlord own'd before;
And paid profusely, with the precious bowl,
The stinted kindness of his churlish soul:
Just sunk to earth, the miser in surprise,
Receiv'd the glitt'ring gift with startled eyes;
But 'ere he could recover from his fright,
The generous guests had travelled from his sight.
[Page 18]Now the brisk clouds in airy tumults fly,
The sun emerging opes an azure sky;
A fresher green the fragrant leaves display,
And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the day,
While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought
With all the travail of uncertain thought;
His partner's acts without their
cause appear,
*
'Twas there a vice, but seem'd a madness here.
Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes,
Lost and confounded with the various shows.
[Page 19]Now Night's dim shades again involve the sky,
Again the wand'rers want a place to lie,
Again they search, and find a mansion nigh.
The soil improv'd around, the mansion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great:
It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind,
Content, and not for praise but virtue, kind.
Hither the walkers turn their weary feet,
Then bless the mansion, and the master greet;
Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise,
The courteous master hears, and thus replies:
[Page 20]Without a vain, without a grudging heart,
To him who gives us all, I yield a part:
From him you come, from him accept it here,
A frank and sober, more than costly cheer.
He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread,
Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed;
When the grave household round the hall repair,
Warn'd by a bell, and close the hour with prayer.
At length the world, renew'd by calm repose,
Was strong for toil, the dapple morn arose;
[Page 21]Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept
Near the clos'd cradle, where an infant slept,
And writh'd his neck; the landlord's little pride,
O strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and dy'd.
Horror of horrors! What! his only son?
How look'd our Hermit when the fact was done?
Not hell, tho' hell's black jaws in sunder part,
And breathe blue fire, could more assail his heart.
Confus'd and struck with silence at the deed,
He flies—but trembling, fails to fly with speed.
[Page 22]His steps the youth pursues; the country lay
Perplex'd with roads, a servant shew'd the way;
A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er
Was nice to find, the servant went before;
Long arms of oak an open bridge supply'd,
And deep the waves beneath them bending glide:
The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin.
Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in:
Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head,
Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.
[Page 23]Wild sparkling rage inflames the Hermit's eyes,
He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries,
Detested wretch!—But scarce his speech began
When the strange partner seem'd no longer man;
His youthful face grew more serenely sweet,
His robes turn'd white, and flow'd about his feet:
Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair;
Celestial odours breathe thro' purpled air;
And wings, whose colours glitter'd like the day,
Wide at his back the dazzling plumes display.
[Page 24]The form etherial bursts upon his sight,
And moves in all the majesty of light.
Tho' loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew;
Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do:
Surprise in secret chains his words suspends,
And in a calm his settling temper ends.
But silence here the beauteous angel broke,
The voice of musick ravish'd as he spoke.
Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown,
In sweet memorial rise before the throne;
[Page 25]These charms success in our bright region find,
And force an angel down to calm thy mind;
For this commission'd, I forsook the sky;
Nay, cease to kneel—thy fellow servant, I.
Then know the truth of government divine,
And let the scruples be no longer thine.
The master justly claims that world he made;
In this the right of Providence is laid;
[Page 26]Its sacred majesty through all depends,
On using second means
* to work his ends:
'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye,
The power exerts its attributes on high:
Your actions uses, nor controls your will,
And bids the doubting sons of men be still.
What strange events can strike with more surprise
Than those which lately struck thy wand'ring eyes?
[Page 27]Yet taught by these, confess th' Almighty just,
And, where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!
The great vain man, who far'd on costly food,
Whose life was too luxurious to be good:
Who made his iv'ry stands with goblets shine,
And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine,
Has with the cup, the graceless custom lost,
And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.
The mean suspicious wretch, whose bolted door
Ne'er mov'd in pity to the wand'ring poor;
[Page 28]With him I left the cup, to teach his mind
That heav'n can bless, if mortals will be kind;
Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl,
And feels compassion touch his grateful soul.
Thus artists melt the sullen oar of lead,
With heaping coals of fire upon its head;
In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow,
And loose from dross the silver runs below.
Long had our pious friend in virtue trod,
But now the child half wean'd his soul from God;
[Page 29]Child of his age
†, for him he liv'd in pain,
And measur'd back his steps to earth again.
To what excesses had his dotage run!
But God, to save the father, took the son.
To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go,
And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow.
The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust,
Now owns in tears the punishment was just.
But how had all his fortune felt a wreck,
Had the false servant sped in safety back?
[Page 30]This very night, by secret plot contriv'd,
Of life and wealth his master he'd depriv'd;
Had he in this conspiracy prevail'd,
What funds of charity would then have fail'd?
Thus heav'n instructs thy mind: this trial o'er,
Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more.
On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew,
The sage stood wond'ring as the seraph flew.
Thus look'd
Elisha, when to mount on high,
His master took the chariot of the sky:
[Page 31]The fiery pomp ascending, left the view;
The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too.
The bending Hermit here a prayer begun,
"Lord! as in heav'n, on earth thy will be done."
Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place,
And spent a life of piety and peace.
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AN ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD. [By Mr. GRAY.]
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[Page 35]
AN ELEGY. WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.
THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
[Page 36]Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that, from yonder ivy mantled tow'r,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as, wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Molest her ancient, solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
[Page 37]Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense breathing morn,
The swallow, twitt'ring from the straw built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
Nor children run to lisp their fire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
[Page 38]Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their teams a field!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
[Page 39]Await alike, th' inevitable hour;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where thro' the long drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or flatt'ry sooth the dull cold ear of death?
[Page 40]Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire:
Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or wak'd to ecstacy the living lyre.
But knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unrol;
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem, of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
[...]
[Page 42]
Their lot forbade: Nor circumscrib'd alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd;
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind:
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride
With incense kindled at the muses' flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
[Page 43]Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustick moralist to die.
[Page 44]
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires:
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries;
Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
[Page 45]If, chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate.
Haply some hoary headed swain may say,
"Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn,
Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantastick roots so high,
His listless length at noon tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.
[Page 46]
Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn,
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he.
The next, with dirges due, in sad array,
Slow thro' the church yard path we saw him borne:
Approach and read, for thou canst read the lay
Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."
[Page 47]
EPITAPH.
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth,
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown;
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
Heav'n did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Mis'ry all he had—a tear;
He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
[Page 48](There they alike in trembling hope repose)
The bosom of his father and his God.
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THE TRAVELLER: OR, A PROSPECT of SOCIETY. [By Dr. GOLDSMITH.]
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To Men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
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THE TRAVELLER: OR, A PROSPECT of SOCIETY.
REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wand'ring Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door;
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,
A weary waste expanding to the skies;
[Page 52]Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain,
And drags, at each remove, a lengthning chain.
Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian saints attend;
Blest be that spot where cheerful guests retire,
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Blest that abode where want and pain repair,
And ev'ry stranger finds a ready chair:
[Page 53]Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests, or pranks that never fail,
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale;
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good!
But me, not destin'd such delights to share,
My prime of life in wand'ring spent, and care:
Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue
Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet as I follow, flies;
[Page 54]My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own.
Ev'n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,
I sit me down a pensive hour to spend:
And plac'd on high, above the storm's career,
Look downward where an hundred realms appear;
Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide,
The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride.
When thus Creation's charms around combine,
Amidst the store should thankless pride repine?
[Page 55]Say, Should the philosophick mind disdain
That good which makes each humbler bosom vain?
Let school taught pride dissemble all it can▪
These little things are great to little man;
And wiser he, whose sympathetick mind
Exults in all the good of all mankind.
Ye glitt'ring towns, with wealth and splendour crown'd;
Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round;
Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale;
Ye bending swains, that dress the flow'ry vale,
[Page 56]For me your tributary stores combine:
Creation's heir! the world, the world is mine!
As some lone miser, visiting his store,
Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er;
Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill,
Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still:
Thus to my breast alternate passions rise,
Pleas'd with each good that heav'n to man supplies;
Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall
To see the hoard of human bliss so small;
And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find
Some spot to real happiness consign'd;
[Page 57]Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at rest,
May gather bliss to see my fellows blest.
But where to find that happiest spot below,
Who can direct, when all pretend to know?
The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone
Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own;
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,
And his long nights of revelry and ease:
The naked negro, panting at the line,
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine;
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
[Page 58]Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam;
His first, best country ever is at home.
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
And estimate the blessings which they share,
Tho' patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind;
As diff'rent good, by art or nature giv'n,
To diff'rent nations, makes their blessings even.
Nature, a mother kind alike to all,
Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call;
With food as well the peasant is suppli'd
On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side;
[Page 59]And tho' the rocky crested summits frown,
These rocks by custom turn to beds of down.
From art more various are the blessings sent;
Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content.
Yet these each other's power so strong contest,
That either seems destructive of the rest.
Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails;
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.
Hence ev'ry state, to one lov'd blessing prone,
Conforms and models life to that alone.
[Page 60]Each to the fav'rite happiness attends,
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends;
Till carried to excess in each domain,
This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain.
But let us try these truths with closer eyes,
And trace them thro' the prospect as it lies:
Here, for a while, my proper cares resign'd,
Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind;
Like you neglected shrub at random cast,
That shades the steep, and sighs at ev'ry blast.
Far to the right, where Appennine ascends,
Bright as the summer, Italy extends
[Page 61]Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side,
Woods over woods in gay theatrick pride;
While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between,
With venerable grandeur mark the scene.
Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast,
The sons of Italy were surely blest.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright succession decks the varied year;
[Page 62]Whatever sweets salute the northern sky
With vernal leaves, that blossom but to die—
These, here disporting, own the kindred soil,
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While sea born gales their gelid wings expand,
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
But small the bliss that sense alone bestows;
And sensual bliss is all the nation knows.
In florid beauty groves and fields appear,
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
[Page 63]Contrasted faults thro' all his manners reign:
Tho' poor, luxurious; tho' submissive, vain;
Tho' grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue;
And e'en in penance planning sins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed leaves behind;
For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date,
When commerce proudly flourish'd thro' the state:
At her command the palace learn'd to rise,
Again the long fall'n column sought the skies;
The canvas glow'd beyond e'en Nature warm;
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form;
[Page 64]Till, more unsteady than the southern gale,
Commerce on other shores display'd her sail;
While nought remain'd of all that riches gave,
But towns unmann'd, and lords without a slave:
And late the nation found, with fruitless skill,
Its former strength was but plethorick ill.
Yet still the loss of wealth is here suppli'd
By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride;
From these the feeble heart and long fall'n mind
An easy compensation seem to find.
[Page 65]Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd
The pasteboard triumph and the cavalcade;
Processions form'd for piety and love,
A mistress or a saint in ev'ry grove.
By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd;
The sports of children satisfy the child:
Each nobler aim, represt by long control,
Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul;
While low delights, succeeding fast behind,
In happier meanness occupy the mind:
As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway,
Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay,
There in the ruin, heedless of the dead,
[Page 66]The shelter seeking peasant builds his shed;
And, wondering man could want the larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
My soul, turn from them—turn we to survey
Where rougher climes a nobler race display;
Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread,
And force a churlish soil for scanty bread:
No product here the barren hills afford,
But man and steel, the soldier and his sword.
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May;
[Page 67]No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
Yet still, e'en here Content can spread a charm,
Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.
Tho' poor the peasant's hut, his feast tho' small,
He sees his little lot the lot of all;
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head,
To shame the meanness of his humble shed;
No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal,
To make him lothe his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
[Page 68]Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes;
With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
Or drives his vent'rous ploughshare to the steep;
Or seeks the den where snow tracks mark the way,
And drags the struggling savage into day,
At night returning, ev'ry labour sped,
He sits him down the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard,
Displays her cleanly platter on the board:
[Page 69]And haply too some pilgrim thither led,
With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
Thus ev'ry good his native wilds impart,
Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;
And e'en those ills that round his mansion rise,
Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies.
Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;
And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,
Clings close and closer to the mother's breast,
[Page 70]So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.
Such are the charms to barren states assign'd;
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Yet let them only share the praises due;
If few their wants, their pleasures are but few:
For ev'ry want that stimulates the breast,
Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest.
When from such lands each pleasing science flies,
That first excites desire, and then supplies;
[Page 71]Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy,
To fill the languid pause with finer joy;
Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,
Catch ev'ry nerve, and vibrate thro' the frame.
Their level life is but a mould'ring sire,
Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by strong desire;
Unfit for raptures; or, if raptures cheer
On some high festival of once a year,
In wild excess the vulgar breast takes sire,
Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.
But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow;
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low:
[Page 72]For, as refinement stops, from sire to son,
Unalter'd, unimprov'd, the manners run;
And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart
Falls blunted from each indurated heart.
Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
May sit, like falcons cowering on the nest;
But all the gentler morals, such as play
Thro' life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the way,
These far dispers'd, on timorous pinions fly,
To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.
To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,
I turn —and France displays her bright domain.
[Page 73]Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease,
Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please,
How often have I led thy sportive choir
With tuneless pipe, beside the murm'ring Loire!
Where shading elms along the margin grew,
And, freshen'd from the wave, the zephyr flew;
And haply, tho' my harsh touch, falt'ring still,
But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill,
Yet would the village praise my wond'rous power,
And dance, forgetful of the noon tide hour!
[Page 74]Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days
Have led their children through the mirthful maze;
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestick lore,
Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
So blest a life these thoughtless realms display,
Thus idly busy rolls their world away:
Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear;
For honour forms the social temper here.
Honour, that praise which real merit gains,
Or e'en imaginary worth obtains,
Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,
It shifts in splendid traffick round the land:
[Page 75]From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,
And all are taught an avarice of praise:
They please, are pleas'd, they give to get esteem,
Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.
But while this softer art their bliss supplies,
It gives their follies also room to rise,
For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought,
Enfeebles all internal strength of thought;
And the weak soul, within itself unblest,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
[Page 76]Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart:
Here vanity assumes her pert grimace,
And trims her robes of frize with copper lace;
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer.
To boast one splendid banquet once a year;
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
Nor weighs the solid worth of self applause.
To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
[Page 77]Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land;
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward methinks, and diligently slow,
The firm connected bulwark seems to grow;
Spreads its long arms amidst the wat'ry roar,
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore,
While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale,
The willow tufted bank, the gliding sail,
[Page 78]The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation, rescued from his reign.
Thus, while around the wave subjected soil
Impels the native to repeated toil,
Industrious habits in each bosom reign,
And industry begets a love of gain.
Hence all the good from opulence that springs,
With all those ills superfluous treasure brings,
Are here display'd. Their much lov'd wealth imparts
Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts;
But view them closer, craft and fraud appear;
E'en Liberty itself is barter'd here;
[Page 79]At gold's superiour charms all freedom flies;
The needy sell it, and the rich man buys;
A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves!
Here wretches seek dishonourable graves,
And calmly bent, to servitude conform;
Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm.
Heavens! how unlike their Belgick sires of old!
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold;
War in each breast, and freedom on each brow;
How much unlike the sons of Britain now!
Fir'd at the sound, my Genius spreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western spring;
[Page 80]Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,
And brighter streams than fam'd Hydaspes glide:
There all around the gentlest breezes stray;
There gentle musick melts on ev'ry spray;
Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd;
Extremes are only in the master's mind!
Stern o'er each bosom Reason holds her state,
With daring aims irregularly great:
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of human kind pass by;
Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band,
By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand;
[Page 81]Fierce in their native hardiness of soul,
True to imagin'd right, above control,
While e'en the peasant boasts these RIGHTS to scan,
And learns to venerate himself as MAN.
Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur'd here;
Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear;
Too blest indeed were such without alloy,
But foster'd e'en by Freedom ills annoy:
That independence Britons prize too high,
Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie;
The self dependent lordlings stand alone:
All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown;
[Page 82]Here, by the bonds of Nature feebly held,
Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd.
Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar,
Repress'd Ambition struggles round her shore,
Till, over wrought, the general system feels
Its motions stop, or phrensy fire the wheels.
Nor this the worst. As Nature's ties decay,
As duty, love, and honour fail to sway,
Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law,
Still gather strength and force unwilling awe.
[Page 83]Hence all obedience bows to these alone,
And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown;
Till time may come, when, stript of all her charms,
The land of scholars and the nurse of arms,
Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame,
Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrote for fame,
One sink of level avarice shall lie,
And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die.
Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state,
I mean to flatter kings, or court the great;
[Page 84]Ye pow'rs of truth, that bid my soul aspire,
Far from my bosom drive the low desire!
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel
The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel;
Thou transitory flower, alike undone
By proud Contempt, or Favour's fost'ring sun,
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure,
I only would repress them to secure:
For just experience tells, in ev'ry soil,
That those who think must govern those who toil;
And all that Freedom's highest aims can reach,
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each.
[Page 85]Hence, should one order disproportion'd grow,
Its double weight must ruin all below.
O then, how blind to all that truth requires,
Who think it freedom when a part aspires!
Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,
Except when fast approaching danger warms:
But when contending chiefs blockade the throne,
Contracting regal power to stretch their own;
When I behold a factious band agree
To call it freedom when themselves are free;
[Page 86]Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw,
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law;
The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam,
Pillag'd from slaves, to purchase slaves at home;
Fear, pity, justice, indignation start,
Tear off reserve, and bear my swelling heart;
Till, half a patriot, half a coward grown,
I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.
Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour,
When first Ambition struck at regal power;
And, thus polluting honour in its source,
Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force.
[Page 87]Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore,
Her useful sons exchang'd for useless ore?
Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste,
Like flaring tapers, bright'ning as they waste;
Seen Opulence, her grandeur to maintain,
Lead stern Depopulation in her train,
And over fields, where scatter'd hamlets rose,
In barren, solitary pomp repose?
Have we not seen, at Pleasure's lordly call,
The smiling long frequented village fall?
Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay'd,
The modest matron, and the blushing maid,
[Page 88]Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train,
To traverse climes beyond the western main;
Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around,
And Niagara stuns with thund'ring sound!
E'en now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays
Thro' tangled forests, and thro' dang'rous ways;
Where beasts with man divided empire claim,
And the brown Indian marks with murd'rous aim;
There, while above the giddy tempest flies,
And all around distressful yells arise,
[Page 89]The pensive exile, bending with his woe,
To stop too fearful, and too faint to go,
Casts a long look where England's glories shine,
And bids his bosom sympathize with mine.
Vain, very vain▪ my weary search, to find
That bliss which only centres in the mind!
Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose,
To seek a good each government bestows?
In ev'ry government tho' terrors reign,
Tho' tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain,
[Page 90]How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
Still to ourselves in ev'ry place consign'd,
Our own felicity we make or find:
With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestick joy.
The lifted ax, the agonizing wheel,
Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel,
To men remote from power but rarely known,
Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own.
[Page]
DEATH. A POEM. [By Dr. PORTEUS, Bishop of London.]
[Page]
[Page 93]
DEATH. A POEM.
FRIEND to the wretch whom every friend forsakes,
I woo thee, Death! In fancy's fairy paths
Let the gay songster rove, and gently trill
The strain of empty joy. Life and its joys
I leave to those that prize them. At this hour,
[Page 94]This solemn hour, when silence rules the world,
And wearied nature makes a gen'ral pause!
Wrapt in Night's sable robe, thro' cloysters drear,
And charnels pale, tenanted by a throng
Of meagre phantoms shooting cross my path
With silent glance, I seek the shadowy vale
Of Death. Deep in a murky cave's recess,
Lav'd by Oblivion's listless stream, and fenc'd
By shelving rocks, and intermingled horrors
Of yew and cypress shade, from all intrusion
[Page 95]Of busy noontide beam, the Monarch sits
In unsubstantial majesty enthorn'd.
At his right hand, nearest himself in place
And frightfulness of form, his parent Sin,
With fatal industry and cruel care,
Busies herself in pointing all his stings,
And tipping every shaft with venom drawn
From her infernal store: around him, rang'd
In terrible array, and mixture strange
Of uncouth shapes, stand his dread ministers.
Foremost Old Age, his natural ally
And firmest friend: next him diseases thick,
A motly train; Fever, with cheek of fire;
[Page 96]Consumption wan; Palsy, half warm with life,
And half a clay clod lump; joint tort'ring Gout,
And ever gnawing Rheum; Convulsion wild;
Swoln Dropsy; panting Asthma; Appoplex
Full gorg'd. There too the Pestilence that walks
In darkness, and the Sickness that destroys
At broad noonday. These, and a thousand more,
Horrid to tell, attentive wait; and when,
By Heaven's command, Death waves his ebon wand,
Sudden rush forth to execute his purpose,
And scatter desolation o'er the earth.
[Page 97]Ill fated man, for whom such various forms
Of mis'ry wait, and mark their future prey!
Ah! why, allrighteous Father, didst thou make
This creature Man? Why wake th' inconscious dust
To life and wretchedness? O better far
Still had he slept in uncreated night,
If this the lot of being! Was it for this
Thy breath divine kindled within his breast
The vital flame? For this was thy fair image
Stampt on his soul in godlike lineaments?
For this dominion giv'n him absolute
O'er all thy works, only that he might reign
[Page 98]Supreme in woe? From the blest source of Good
Could Pain and Death proceed? Could such foul ills
Fall from fair Mercy's hands? Far be the thought,
The impious thought! God never made a creature
But what was good. He made a
living Soul;
The wretched Mortal was the work of Man.
Forth from his Maker's hands he sprung to life,
Fresh with immortal bloom; no pain he knew,
No fear of change, no check to his desires,
Save one command: that one command, which stood
[Page 99]'Twixt him and Death, the test of his obedience,
Urg'd on by wanton curiosity,
He broke. There in one moment was undone
The fairest of God's works. The same rash hand,
That pluck'd in evil hour the fatal fruit,
Unbarr'd the gates of Hell, and let loose Sin
And Death, and all the family of Pain,
To prey upon mankind. Young Nature saw
The monstrous crew, and shook thro' all her frame.
Then fled her newborn lustre, then began
Heaven's cheerful face to low'r; then vapours chok'd
[Page 100]The troubled air, and form'd a veil of clouds
To hide the willing Sun. The earth, convuls'd
With painful throes, threw forth a bristly crop
Of thorns and briars! and insect, bird, and beast,
That wont before with admiration fond
To gaze at Man, and fearless crowd around him,
Now fled before his face, shunning in in haste
Th' infection of his misery. He alone,
Who justly might, th' offended Lord of Man,
Turn'd not away his face; he, full of pity,
Forsook not in this uttermost distress
His best lov'd work. That comfort still remain'd,
[Page 101]That best, that greatest comfort in affliction,
The countenance of God; and thro' the gloom
Shot forth some kindly gleams, to cheer and warm
Th' offender's sinking soul. Hope, sent from Heav'n,
Uprais'd his drooping head, and shew'd afar
A happier scene of things; the promis'd Seed
Trampling upon the Serpent's humbled crest,
Death of his sting disarm'd; and the dark grave,
Made pervious to the realms of endless day,
No more the limit but the gate of life.
[Page 102]Cheer'd with the view, Man went to till the ground,
From whence he rose; sentenc'd indeed to toil
As to a punishment, yet, even in wrath,
So merciful is Heav'n, this toil became
The solace of his woes, the sweet employ
Of many a livelong hour, and surest guard
Against Disease and Death. Death tho' denounc'd,
Was yet a distant ill, by feeble arm
Of Age, his sole support, led slowly on.
Not then, as since, the short liv'd son's of men
Flock'd to his realms in countless multitudes;
Scarce in the course of twice five hundred years
[Page 103]One solitary ghost went shiv'ring down
To his unpeopled shore. In sober state,
Through the sequester'd vale of rural life,
The venerable Patriarch guileless held
The tenor of his way; Labour prepar'd
His simple fare, and Temp'rance rul'd his board.
Tir'd with his daily toil, at early eve
He sunk to sudden rest; gentle and pure
As breath of evening zephyr, and as sweet,
Were all his slumbers; with the Sun he rose,
Alert and vigorous as he, to run
His destin'd course.—Thus nerv'd with giant strength,
[Page 104]He stemm'd the tide of time, and stood the shock
Of ages rolling harmless o'er his head.
At life's meridian point arriv'd, he stood,
And, looking round, saw all the valley fill'd
With nations from his loins; full well content
To leave his race thus scatter'd o'er the earth,
Along the gentle slope of life's decline
He bent his gradual way, till full of years,
He dropp'd like mellow fruit into his grave.
Such in the infancy of time was Man;
So calm was life, so impotent was Death!
[Page 105]O had he but preserv'd these few remains,
The shatter'd fragments of lost happiness,
Snatch'd by the hand of Heav'n from the sad wreck
Of innocence primeval, still had he liv'd
In ruin great; though fall'n, yet not forlorn;
Though mortal, yet not every where beset
With Death in every shape! But he, impatient
To be completely wretched, hastes to fill up
The measure of his woes.—'Twas Man himself
Brought Death into the world; and Man himself
[Page 106]Gave keenness to his darts, quicken'd his pace,
And multiplied destruction on mankind.
First Envy, eldest born of Hell, embrued
Her hands in blood, and taught the Sons of Men
To make a death which Nature never made,
And God abhorr'd; with violence rude to break
The thread of life ere half its length was run,
And rob a wretched brother of his being.
With joy Ambition saw, and soon improv'd
[Page 107]The execrable deed. 'Twas not enough
By subtle fraud to snatch a single life:
Puny impiety! whole kingdoms fell
To sate the lust of power: More horrid still,
The foulest stain and scandal of our nature
Became its boast.
One Murder made a Villain,
Millions a Hero. Princes were priviledg'd
To kill; and numbers sanctified the crime.
Ah! Why will Kings forget that they are Men?
And Men that they are brethren? Why delight
In human sacrifice? Why burst the ties
[Page 108]Of Nature, that should knit their souls together
In one soft bond of amity and love?
Yet still they breathe destruction, still go on
In humanly ingenious to find out
New pains for life, new terrors for the grave,
Artificers of Death! Still Monarchs dream
Of universal empire growing up
From universal ruin. Blast the design,
Great God of Hosts, nor let thy creatures fall
Unpitied victims at Ambition's shrine!
Yet say, should Tyrants learn at last to feel,
And the loud din of battle cease to bray;
[Page 109]Should dove eyed Peace o'er all the earth extend
Her olive branch, and give the world repose,
Would Death be foil'd? Would health, and strength, and youth,
Defy his power? Has he no arts in store,
No other shafts, save those of war? Alas!
Ev'n in the smile of Peace, that smile which sheds
A heav'nly sunshine o'er the soul, there basks
That serpent Luxury. War its thousands slays,
Peace its ten thousands. In th' embattled plain
Tho' Death exults, and claps his raven wings,
[Page 110]Yet reigns he not ev'n there so absolute,
So merciless, as in yon frantick scenes
Of midnight revel and tumultuous mirth;
Where in th' intoxicating draught conceal'd,
Or couch'd beneath the glance of lawless Love,
He snares the simple youth, who, nought suspecting,
Means to be blest—but finds himself undone.
Down the smooth stream of life the stripling darts,
Gay as the morn; bright glows the vernal sky,
Hope swells his sails, and passion steers his course.
Safe glides his little bark along the shore
[Page 111]Where Virtue takes her stand; but if too far
He launches forth beyond Discretion's mark,
Sudden the tempest scowls, the surges roar,
Blot his fair day, and plunge him in the deep.
O sad but sure mischance! O happier far
To lie like gallant Howe 'midst Indian wilds
A breathless corse, cut off by savage hands
In earliest prime, a generous sacrifice
To Freedom's holy cause, than so to fall,
Torn immature from life's meridian joys,
A prey to Vice, Intemp'rance, and Disease.
[Page 112]Yet die ev'n thus, thus rather perish still,
Ye Sons of Pleasure, by th' Almighty strick'n,
Than ever dare, though oft, alas! ye dare,
To lift against yourselves the murd'rous steel,
To wrest from God's own hand the sword of Justice,
And be your own avengers! Hold, rash man,
Though with anticipating speed thou'st rang'd
Through every region of delight, nor left
One joy to gild the evening of thy days;
Though life seem one uncomfortable void,
[Page 113]Guilt at thy heels, before thy face Despair;
Yet gay this scene, and light this load of woe,
Compar'd with thy hereafter. Think, O think,
And ere thou plunge into the vast abyss,
Pause on the verge a while, look down and see
Thy future mansion. Why that start of horror?
From thy slack hand why drops th' uplifted steel?
Didst thou not think such vengeance must await
The wretch, that, with his crimes all fresh about him,
Rushes irreverent, unprepar'd, uncall'd,
Into his Maker's presence, throwing back
[Page 114]With insolent disdain his choicest gift?
Live then, while Heav'n in pity lends thee life,
And think it all too short to wash away,
By penitential tears and deep contrition,
The scarlet of thy crimes. So shalt thou find
Rest to thy soul; so unappall'd shall meet
Death when he comes; not wantonly invite
His ling'ring stroke. Be it thy sole concern
With innocence to live, with patience wait
Th' appointed hour; too soon that hour will come,
Tho' Nature run her course. But Nature's God,
[Page 115]If need require, by thousand various ways,
Without thy aid, can shorten that short span,
And quench the lamp of life. Oh, when he comes,
Rous'd by the cry of wickedness extreme
To Heav'n ascending from some guilty land,
Now ripe for vengeance; when he comes array'd
In all the terrors of almighty wrath,
Forth from his bosom plucks his ling'ring arm,
And on the miscreants pours destruction down,
Who can abide his coming? Who can bear
His whole displeasure? In no common form
[Page 116]Death then appears, but starting into size
Enormous, measures with gigantick stride
Th' astonish'd earth, and from his looks throws round
Unutterable horror and dismay.
All Nature lends her aid. Each element
Arms in his cause. Ope fly the doors of heav'n;
The fountains of the deep their barriers break;
Above, below, the rival torrents pour,
And drown creation; or in floods of fire
Descends a livid cataract, and consumes
An impious race. Sometimes, when all seems peace,
Wakes the grim whirlwind, and with rude embrace▪
[Page 117]Sweeps nations to their grave, or in the deep
Whelms the proud wooden world; full many a youth
Floats on his wat'ry bier, or lies unwept
On some sad desert shore! At dead of night,
In sullen silence stalks forth Pestilence:
Contagion, close behind, taints all her steps
With pois'nous dew; no smiting hand is seen,
No sound is heard▪ but soon her secret path
Is mark'd with desolation; heaps on heaps
Promiscuous drop. No friend, no refuge, near;
All, all is false and treacherous around;
All that they touch, or taste, or breathe, is Death.
[Page 118]But ah! what means that ruinous roar? Why fail
These tott'ring feet? Earth to its center feels
The Godhead's power, and trembling at his touch
Through all its pillars, and in ev'ry pore,
Hurls to the ground, with one convulsive heave,
Precipitating domes, and towns, and tow'rs,
The work of ages. Crush'd beneath the weight
Of gen'ral devastation, millions find
One common grave; not ev'n a widow left
To wail her sons: the house, that should protect,
Entombs its master; and the faithless plain,
[Page 119]If there he flies for help, with sudden yawn
Starts from beneath him. Shield me, gracious Heav'n,
O snatch me from destruction! If this globe,
This solid globe, which thine own hand hath made
So firm and sure, if this my steps betray;
If my own mother Earth, from whence I sprung,
Rise up with rage unnatural to devour
Her wretched offspring, Whither shall I fly?
Where look for succour? Where, but up to thee,
Almighty Father? Save, O save, thy suppliant
From horrors such as these! At thy good time
[Page 120]Let Death approach; I reck not.—
Let him but come
In genuine form, not with thy vengeance arm'd,
Too much for man to bear! O rather lend
Thy kindly aid to mitigate his stroke;
And at that hour, when all aghast I stand
A trembling candidate for thy compassion,
On this world's brink, and look into the next;
When my soul, starting from the dark unknown,
Casts back a wishful look, and fondly clings
To her frail prop, unwilling to be wrench'd
From this fair scene, from all her custom'd joys,
[Page 121]And all the lovely relatives of life;
Then shed thy comforts o'er me, then put on
The gentlest of thy looks. Let no dark crimes,
In all their hideous forms then starting up,
Plant themselves round my couch in grim array,
And stab my bleeding heart with two-edg'd torture,
Sense of past guilt, and dread of future woe.
Far be the ghastly crew! And in their stead
Let cheerful Memory, from her purest cells,
Lead forth a goodly train of Virtues fair,
Cherish'd in earliest youth, now paying back
[Page 122]With tenfold usury the pious care,
And pouring o'er my wounds the heav'nly balm
Of conscious innocence. But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft eyed Pity once led down from Heav'n
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die;
Disdain not Thou to smooth the restless bed
Of sickness and of pain. Forgive the tear
That feeble Nature drops, calm all her fears,
Wake all her hopes, and animate her faith,
Till my rapt soul, anticipating Heav'n,
[Page 123]Bursts from the thraldom of incumb'ring clay,
And on the wing of ecstasy upborne,
Springs into Liberty, and Light, and Life.
[Page]
THE DESERTED VILLAGE. [By Dr. GOLDSMITH.]
[Page]
Publlished by Isaiah Thomas 1793
[Page 127]
THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
SWEET Auburn! lovliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer's ling'ring blooms delay'd;
Dear lovely bow'rs of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when ev'ry sport could please,
[Page 128]How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,
Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!
How often have I paus'd on ev'ry charm,
The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,
The never failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church, that topp'd the neighbouring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whisp'ring lovers made!
How often have I bless'd the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play.
And all the village train from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree,
[Page 129]While many a pastime circle in the shade,
The young contending as the old survey'd;
And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground,
And sleights of art and seats of strength went round!
And still as each repeated pleasure tir'd,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd;
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,
By holding out to tire each other down;
The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,
While secret laughter titter'd round the place;
[Page 130]The bashful virgin's side long looks of love,
The matron's glance that would those looks reprove—
These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these,
With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;
These round thy bow'rs their cheerful influence shed;
These were thy charms—But all these charms are fled.
Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn;
Amidst thy bow'rs the tyrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green:
[Page 131]One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain:
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day.
But, chok'd with sedges, works its weedy way;
Along thy glades, a solitary guest,
The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing slies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Sunk are thy bow'rs in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'rtops the mouldring wall;
[Page 132]And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
Far, far away thy children leave the land.
Ill fares the land, to hast'ning ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates and men decay:
Princes and Lords may flourish, or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made:
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroy'd, can never be supply'd.
A time there was, ere England's griefs began,
When every rood of ground maintain'd its man;
[Page 133]For him light labour spread her wholesome store;
Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more:
His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
But times are alter'd: trade's unfeeling train
Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain;
Along the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose,
Unwieldy wealth and cumb'rous pomp repose;
And ev'ry want to luxury alli'd,
And ev'ry pang that folly pays to pride.
[Page 134]Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom,
Those calm desires that ask'd but little room,
Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene,
Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green;
These far departing, seek a kinder shore;
And rural mirth and manners are no more.
Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,
Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's pow'r.
Here, as I take my solitary rounds,
Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds,
[Page 135]And many a year elaps'd, return to view
Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
In all my wand'rings round this world of care,
In all my griefs—and God has giv'n my share—
I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bow'rs to lay me down;
To husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose:
[Page 136]I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
Amidst the swains to shew my book learn'd skill;
Around my fire an ev'ning group to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
Here to return—and die at home at last.
O blest retirement, friend to life's decline,
Retreat from care, that never must be mine,
[Page 137]How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,
A youth of labour with an age of ease!
Who quits a world where strong temptations try,
And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
For him no wretches, born to work and weep,
Explore the mine, or tempt the dang'rous deep!
No surly porter stands in guilty state,
To spurn imploring famine from the gate;
But on he moves to meet his latter end,
Angels around befriending virtue's friend;
Sinks to the grave with unperceiv'd decay,
While resignation gently slopes the way;
[Page 138]And, all his prospects bright'ning to the last,
His heav'n commences ere the world be past!
Sweet was the sound, when oft, at ev'ning's close,
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose;
There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came soften'd from below;
The swain responsive as the milk maid sung,
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young;
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
[Page 139]The watch dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind;
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
But now the sounds of population fail,
No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,
No busy steps the grass grown footway tread,
But all the bloomy flush of life is fled!
All but yon widow'd solitary thing,
That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
She, wretched matron, forc'd, in age, for bread,
To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,
[Page 140]To pick her wint'ry faggot from the thorn,
To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn;
She only left, of all the harmless train,
The sad historian of the pensive plain.
Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild,
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich, with forty pounds a year!
[Page 141]Remote from towns, he ran his godly race,
Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place;
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize;
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train;
He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain.
The long remember'd beggar was his guest,
Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast;
[Page 142]The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd;
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away;
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were won.
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,
And quite forget their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their faults to scan;
His pity gave ere charity began.
Thus to relieve the wrethched was his pride,
And ev'n his failings lean'd to Virtue's side;
[Page 143]But in his duty prompt, at ev'ry call,
He watch'd and wept—he pray'd— and felt for all.
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt her new fledg'd offspring to the skies,
He try'd each art, reprov'd each dull delay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Beside the bed, where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd,
The rev'rend champion stood. At his control
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
[Page 144]Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise.
At church, with meek, and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustick ran;
Ev'n children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.
[Page 145]His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd;
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were giv'n;
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
As some tall cliff that lists its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Beside yon straggling sence that skirts the way,
With blossom furze unprofitably gay,
[Page 146]There in his noisy mansion skill'd to to rule,
The village master taught his little school:
A man severe he was, and stern to view;
I knew him well, and ev'ry truant knew;
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes; for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd;
[Page 147]Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault.
The village all declar'd how much he knew;
'Twas certain he could write and cypher too;
Lands he could measure, times and tides presage,
And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge:
In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill;
For ev'n tho' vanquish'd, he could argue still;
While words of learned length, and thund'ring sound,
Amaz'd the gazing rusticks rang'd around.
[Page 148]And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame. The very spot,
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot.
Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high,
Where once the signpost caught the passing eye,
Low lies that house where nut brown draughts inspir'd,
Where grey beard mirth and smiling toil retir'd;
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound;
And news much older than their ale went round;
[Page 149]Imagination fondly stoops to trace
The parlour splendours of that festive place;
The white wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor;
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest, contriv'd a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of draw'rs by day;
The pictures plac'd for ornament and use;
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;
The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day,
With aspen bows, and flowers, and sennel gay;
[Page 150]While broken tea cups wisely kept for show,
Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row.
Vain transitory splendour! Could not all
Reprieve the tott'ring mansion from its fall?
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart;
Thither no more the peasant shall repair
To sweet oblivion of his daily care;
To more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,
Relax his pond'rous strength, and lean to hear;
[Page 151]The host himself no longer shall be found
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;
Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,
Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.
Yes: let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
These simple blessings of the lowly train:
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art;
Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play,
The soul adopts, and owns their firstborn sway;
[Page 152]Lightly they frolick o'er the vacant mind,
Unenvied, unmolested, unconfin'd:
But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,
With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd,
In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain;
And, ev'n while fashion's brightest arts decoy.
The heart, distrusting▪ asks if this be joy.
Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay,
'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand
Between a splendid and a happy land.
[Page 153]Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore,
And shouting folly hails them from her shore;
Hoards, ev'n beyond the miser's wish, abound;
And rich men flock from all the world around.
Yet count our gains: this wealth is but a name
That leaves our useful product still the same.
Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride
Takes up a space that many poor supply'd;
Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds;
Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds:
[Page 154]The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth,
Has robb'd the neighb'ring fields of half their growth;
His seat, where solitary sports are seen,
Indignant spurns the cottage from the green;
Around the world each needful product flies,
For all the luxuries the world supplies.
While thus the land, adorn'd for pleasure all,
In barren splendour feebly waits the fall.
As some fair female, unadorn'd and plain,
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign,
[Page 155]Slights ev'ry borrow'd charm that dress supplies,
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes;
But when those charms are past, for charms are frail,
When time advances, and when lovers fail,
She then shines forth, solicitous to bless,
In all the glaring impotence of dress.
Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd,
In nature's simplest charms at first array'd,
But verging to decline, its splendours rise,
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise;
While, scourg'd by famine from the smiling land,
The mournful peasant leads his humble band;
[Page 156]And while he sinks, without one arm to save,
The country blooms—a garden and a grave.
Where then, ah! where shall poverty reside,
To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride!
If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd.
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,
Those senceless
[...] the sons of wealth divide,
And ev'n the bare worn common is deny'd.
If to the city sped—What waits him there?
To see profusion that he must not share;
[Page 157]To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;
To see each joy the sons of pleasure know,
Extorted from his fellow creature's woe.
Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade,
There the pale artist plies the sickly trade;
Here, while the proud their long drawn pomps display,
There the black gibbet glooms beside the way.
The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign,
Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train;
Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square,
The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.
[Page 158]Sure, scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy!
Sure, these denote one universal joy!
Are these thy serious thoughts?—Ah, turn thine eyes
Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies!
She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,
Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn;
Now lost to all; her friends, her virtue fled,
Near her betrayer's doors she lays her head,
And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the show'r,
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
[Page 159]When idly first, ambitious of the town,
She left her wheel and robes of country brown!
Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train,
Do thy fair tribes participate her pain?
Ev'n now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led,
At proud men's doors they ask a little bread!
Ah, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene,
Where half the convex world intrudes between,
Thro' torrid tracts with fainting steps they go,
Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.
[Page 160]Far diff'rent there from all that charm'd before,
The various terrors of that horrid shore;
Those blazing suns, that dart a downward ray,
And fiercely shed intolerable day;
Those matted woods where birds forget to sing,
But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling;
Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance crown'd,
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around;
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,
And savage men, more murd'rous still than they;
[Page 161]While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,
Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies.
Far diff'rent these from ev'ry former scene,
The cooling brook, the grassy vested green,
The breezy covert of the warbling grove,
That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love.
Good Heav'n! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day,
That call'd them from their native walks away;
When the poor exiles, ev'ry pleasure past,
Hung round the bow'rs, and fondly look'd their last!
[Page 162]And took a long farewel, and wish'd in vain
For seats like these beyond the western main,
And shudd'ring still to face the distant deep,
Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep!
The good old fire the first prepar'd to go
To new found worlds, and wept for others woe,
But for himself, in conscious virtue brave,
He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,
The fond companion of his hapless years,
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,
And left a lover's for her father's arms.
[Page 163]With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And bless'd the cot where ev'ry pleasure rose;
And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clasp'd them close in sorrow doubly dear;
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief,
In all the silent manliness of grief.
O Luxury! thou curst by Heav'n's decree,
How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee!
How do thy potions, with insidious joy,
Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!
Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown,
Boast of a florid vigour not their own.
[Page 164]At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow,
A bloated mass of rank unweildy woe;
Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part unsound,
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.
Ev'n now the devastation is begun,
And half the bus'ness of destruction done;
Ev'n now, methinks, as pond'ring here I stand,
I see the rural virtues leave the land.
Down where yon anch'ring vessel spreads the sail
That idly waiting flaps with ev'ry gale,
Downward they move, a melancholy band,
Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.
[Page 165]Contented toil, and hospitable care,
And kind connubial tenderness are there;
And piety, with wishes plac'd above,
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou sweet Poetry, thou lovliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade;
Unfit in these degen'rate times of shame
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decry'd,
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride;
Thou, source of all my bliss, and all my woe,
Thou found it me poor at first, and keep'st me so;
[Page 166]Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou source of ev'ry virtue, fare thee well;
Farewel, and O! where'er thy voice be try'd,
On Torrio's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoxial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of th' inclement clime;
Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain;
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that states of native strength possest,
Tho' very poor, may still be very blest;
[Page 167]That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away;
While self dependent pow'r can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.
[Page]
HERMIT OF THE DALE. A BALLAD. [From the VICAR of WAKEFIELD.]
[Page]
HERMIT OF THE DALE.
A BLLLAD.
"TURN, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
To where yon taper cheers the vale,
With hospitable ray.
For here forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow;
Where wilds immeasurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go."
"Forbear, my son," the hermit cries,
"To tempt the dangerous gloom;
[Page 172]For yonder phantom only flies
To lure thee to thy doom.
Here to the houseless child of want,
My door is open still;
And tho' my portion is but scant,
I give it with good will.
Then turn to night, and freely share
Whate'er my cell bestows;
My rushy couch and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.
No flocks that range the valley free,
To slaughter I condemn:
Taught by that power that pities me,
I learn to pity them.
But from the mountain's grassy side,
A guiltless feast I bring;
[Page 173]A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd,
And water from the spring.
Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
For earth born cares are wrong:
Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long."
Soft as the dew from heav'n descends,
His gentle accents fell;
The grateful stranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.
Far shelter'd in a glade obscure
The modest mansion lay;
A refuge to the neighbouring poor,
And strangers led astray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care;
[Page 174]The door just opening with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.
And now when worldly crowds retire
To revels or to rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest:
And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily prest, and smil'd;
And skill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguil'd.
Around in sympathetick mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries,
The cricket chirrups in the hearth;
The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart
To soothe the stranger's woe;
[Page 175]For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the hermit spy'd,
With answering care opprest:
"And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd,
"The sorrows of thy breast?
From better habitations spurn'd,
Reluctant dost thou rove:
Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,
Or unregarded love?
Alas! the joys that fortune brings,
Are trifling and decay;
And those who prize the paltry things,
More trifling still than they.
And what is friendship—but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep;
[Page 176]A shade that follows wealth and fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep?
And love is still an emptier sound,
The haughty fair one's jest:
On earth unseen, or only found
To warm the turtle's nest.
For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,
And spurn the sex," he said:
But while he spoke, a rising blush
The bashful guest betray'd.
He sees unnumber'd beauties rise,
Expanding to the view;
Like clouds that deck the morning skies,
As bright, as transient too.
[Page 177]Her looks, her lips, her panting breast,
Alternate spread alarms:
The lovely stranger stands confest
A maid in all her charms.
And, "Ah! forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn," she cry'd;
"Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude
Where heav'n and you reside.
But let a maid thy pity snare,
Whom love has taught to stray;
Who seeks for rest, but finds despair
Companion of her way.
My father liv'd beside the Tyne,
A wealthy lord was he;
And all his wealth was mark'd as mine
He had but only me.
[Page 178]
To win me, from his tender arms,
Unnumber'd suitors came;
Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
And felt, or feign'd a flame.
Each morn the gay fantastick crowd
With richest proffers strove:
Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
But never talk'd of love.
In humble, simplest habit clad,
No wealth nor power had he;
A constant heart was all he had,
But that was all to me.
The blossom opening to the day;
The dews of heav'n refin'd,
Could nought of purity display
To emulate his mind.
[Page 179]
The dew, the blossom on the tree,
With charms inconstant shine;
Their charms were his, but woe to me,
Their constancy was mine.
For still I try'd each fickle art,
Importunate and vain;
And, while his passion touch'd my heart,
I triumph'd in his pain.
'Till quite dejected with my scorn,
He left me to my pride;
And sought a solitude forlorn,
In secret, where he dy'd.
But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay;
I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay.
[Page 180]
And, there forlorn despairing hid,
I'll lay me down and die:
'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
And so for him will I."
"Thou shalt not thus," the hermit cry'd,
And clasp'd her to his breast:
The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide;
'Twas Edwin's self that prest.
"Turn Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see
Thy own, thy long lost Edwin here,
Restor'd to love and thee.
Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And ev'ry care resign:
And shall we never, never part,
O thou—my all that's mine.
[Page 181]
No, never, from this hour to part,
We'll live and love so true;
The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
Shall break thy Edwin's too."
[Page]
Published by Isaiah Thomas 1793.
[Page]
FUTURITY. EXTRACTED FROM THE CELEBRATED DODD's THOUGHTS IN PRISON.
[Page 185]
FUTURITY.
[Mr. Dodd was an eminent Minister of the Gospel in England, but not taking that care of his worldly affairs which was necessary, he involved himself in debt, and to extricate himself therefrom, he committed a forgery, for which he was executed in June 1777. 30,000 persons signed a petition to the King, to save his life; but it was ineffectual.
—DREAD GOD
Of justice and of mercy! Wilt
Thou too,
In fearful Indignation on my soul,
My anguish'd soul, the door of pity close,
And shut me from Thee ever?—Lo! in dust,
Humiliant, prostrate, weeping 'fore thy throne—
[Page 186]Before thy cross, Oh dying friend of man,
Friend of repentant sinners, I confess,
And mourn my deep transgressions; as the sand
Innumerous, as the glowing crimson red:
With every aggravation, every guilt
Accumulate and burden'd! Against light,
'Gainst love and clearest knowledge perpetrate!
Stamp'd with
Ingratitude's most odious stain;
Ingratitude to THEE; whose favouring love
Had bless'd me, had distinguish'd me with grace,
With goodness far beyond my wish or worth!
[Page 187]Ingratitude to
man; whose partial ear
Attended to my doctrine with delight;
And from my zeal conspicuous justly claim'd
Conspicuous example!—Lord, I sink
O'erwhelm'd with self conviction, with dismay,
With anguish and confusion past compare!
And could I weep whole seas of briny tears
In painful penitence; could I deplore
From my heart's aching fountain, drop by drop,
My crimes and follies; my deep grief and shame,
For vile dishonour on thy gospel brought;
For vile discredit to my order done;
[Page 188]For deep offence against my country's laws;
For deep offence to piety and man;
A patriarchal age would be too short
To speak my sorrows, and lament my sins;
Chief, as I am, of sinners! Guiltier far
Than
he, who, falling, at the cock's shrill call
Rose, and repented weeping: Guiltier far—
I dare not say, than
Judas; for my heart
Hath ever lov'd—could never have betray'd.
Oh never, never,
Thee, dear Lord! to death;
Though cruelly, unkindly and unwise,
That heart hath sacrific'd its truth and peace,
[Page 189]—For what a shameful, what a paltry price!—
To sin, detested sin; and done thee wrong,
Oh blessed source of all its good, its hope!
For, though thus sunk, thus sinful, sorrowing thus,
It dare not, cannot
Judas' crime commit,
Last crime—and of thy mercy, Lord,
despair!
But, conscious of its guilt; contrite and plung'd
In lowest selfabjection, in the depths
Of sad compunction, of repentance due
And undissembled, to thy cross it cleaves,
[Page 190]And cries for—ardent cries for mercy, Lord!
Mercy, its only refuge! Mercy, CHRIST!
By the red drops that in the garden gush'd
'Midst thy soul's anguish from Thee! By the drops
That down thy precious temples, from the crown
Of agony distill'd! By those that flow'd
From thy pierc'd hands, and blessed feet so free;
By all thy blood, thy sufferings and thy death,
Mercy, Oh mercy, JESUS! Mercy, Thou.
Who erst on
David, with a clement eye.
When mourning at thy footstool, deign'dst to look!
[Page 191]Thou, who th' adulterous
Magdalen forgav'st
When in the winning garb of penitence
Contrite she knelt, and with her flowing tears
Wash'd lowly thy lov'd feet! Nor thou the
thief,
Ev'n in the last, the bitterest hour of pain,
Refusedst, gracious! Nor wilt thou refuse
My humble supplication! nor reject
My broken, bleeding heart, thus offer'd up
On true contrition's altar; while through Thee,
Only through Thee acceptance do I hope,
Thou bleeding love! consummate advocate,
[Page 192]Prevailing intercessor, great high priest,
Almighty sufferer! Oh look pitying down!
On thy sufficient merits I depend;
From thy unbounded mercies I implore
The look of pardon, and the voice of
grace—
Grace, grace!—Victorious conqueror over sin,
O'er death, o'er hell, for me, for all mankind;
For grace I plead: Repentant at thy feet
I throw myself, unworthy, lost, undone;
Trusting my soul, and all its dear concerns,
With filial resignation, to thy will:
Grace—still on grace my whole reliance built!
[Page 193]Glory to grace triumphant!—And to THEE,
Dispenser bounteous of that sovereign grace!
JESUS, thou king of glory! at thy call
I come obedient: Lo, the future world
Expands its views transporting! Lord, I come;
And in that world eternal trust to 'plaud,
With all redemption's sons, thy glorious grace!
Then farewel, Oh my friends! light o'er my grave
The green sod lay, and dew it with the tear
Of memory affectionate! And
you
—The curtain dropt decisive—Oh my foes,
[Page 194]Your rancour drop; and, candid, as I am,
Speak of me, hapless! Then you'll speak of one,
Whose bosom beat at pity's gentlest touch
From earliest infancy: Whose boyish mind
In acts humane and tender ever joy'd;
And who—that temper by his inmost sense
Approv'd and cultivate with constant care—
Melted thro' life at sorrow's plaintive tale;
And urg'd, compassionate with pleasure ran
To soothe the sufferer, and relieve the woe—
Of
one, who, though to humble fortune bred,
[Page 195]With splendid generosity's bright form
Too ardently enamour'd, turn'd his sight
Deluded, from frugality's just care,
And parsimony needful!—ONE, who scorn'd
Mean love of gold, yet to that power—his scorn
Retorting vengeful—a mark'd victim fell!—
Of
one, who, unsuspecting, and ill form'd
For the world's subtleties, his bare breast bore
Unguarded, open; and, ingenuous, thought
All men ingenuous, frank and open too!—
Of
one, who, warm with human passions, soft
[Page 196]To tenderest impressions, frequent rush'd
Precipitate into the tangling maze
Of errour;—instant to each fault alive,
Who, in his little journey through the world—
Misled, deluded oft, mistook his way;
Met with bad roads and robbers, for his steps
Insidious lurking: And, by cunning craft
Of fellow travellers sometimes deceiv'd,
Severely felt of cruelty and scorn,
Of envy, malice, and of ill report,
The heavy hand oppressive—
One, who brought
—From ignorance, from indiscretion blind—
Ills numerous on his head; but never aim'd,
[Page 197]Nor wish'd an ill or injury to man!
Injur'd, with cheerful readiness forgave;
Nor for a moment in his happy heart
Harbour'd of malice or revenge a thought:
Still glad and blest to avenge his foes' despite
By deeds of love benevolent!—Of
one—
Oh painful contradiction! Who in GOD,
In duty, plac'd the summit of his joy;
Yet left that GOD, that blissful duty left,
Preposterous, vile deserter! and receiv'd
A just return—"desertion from his GOD,
[Page 198]And consequential plunge into the depth
Of all his present—of all human woe!"
Then hear his sufferings! Hear, if found too faint
His feeble
song to win attention, hear,
And heed his
dying counsel! Cautious, shun
The rocks on which he split. Cleave close to God,
Your father, sure protector, and defence:
Forsake not his lov'd service; and your cause
Be sure He'll ne'er forsake. Initiated once,
Happy and prosperous, in
Religion's course,
[Page 199]Oh persevere unfainting! Nor to vice
Or tempting folly slightest parley give:
Their black tents never enter: On the watch
Continue unremitting, nor e'er slack
The necessary guard. Trivial neglects,
Smallest beginnings, to the wakeful foe
Open the door of danger;—and down sinks,
Through the minutest leak once sprung, the ship
In gayest and most gallant tackle trim.
By small neglects
he fell!—
Oh could
ye rise,
Blest Ministers of peace, by his sad fall;
Gather increase of caution and of zeal;
And, seeing on what slippery edge ye stand,
[Page 200]Of foul and fatal lapse take the more heed;—
With deeper thankfulness he'd bow the knee,
While thus his fate productive prov'd of good
To you, of truth blest heralds! whom he views
With heart felt anguish scandaliz'd, impugn'd
By his atrocious follies: But for that
Not honour'd less, or honourable, if rous'd,
Ev'n by his errours, wisely you maintain
Your high profession's dignity; and look
With single eye intent on the great work
Thrice holy, of your calling; happiest work
[Page 201]Of mortals here, "Salvation of men's souls."
Oh envied pastor, who thus occupied
Looks down on low preferment's distant views
Contemptible; nor e'er his plotting mind
To little, mean servilities enslaves;
Forgetting duty's exercise sublime,
And his attachments heavenly! Who nor joins
In frivolous converse on the rise of this,
Nor prospects flattering of that
worldly clerk;
Strange inconsistency! marching aloft
With step superiour and ambition's paw
To dignity's wish'd summit!—Nor allows
[Page 202]Envious, or spreads malicious the low tales
Diminishing of
brethren, who by zeal,
Or eminence of merit in the cause,
The common cause of
Christ, distinguish'd shine:
Of futile politicks and party rage,
Who, heedless, ever for the powers that be
In meek sincerity implores; and lives
Only to spread around the good, the peace,
The truth, the happiness, his open heart
Innocuous possesses, as the gift
Of him, the GOD of peace he serves and loves!
Much envied pastor! Ah, ye men of GOD,
[Page 203]Who crowd the levee, theatre, or court;
Foremost in each amusement's idle walk,
Of vice and vanity the sportive scorn,
The vaunted pillars;—ah, that ye were all
Such happy, envied
pastors! How mankind
With eyes of reverence would devoutly look,
How would yourselves with eyes of pleasure look,
On characters so uniform! while now,
What view is found less pleasing to the sight!
Nor wonderful, my aged friends! For none
Can inward look complacent, where a void
[Page 204]Presents its desolations drear and dark.
Hence 'tis you turn, incapable to bear
Reflection's just resentment, your lull'd minds
To infantine amusements; and employ
The hours—short hours, indulgent heaven affords
For purposes most solemn—in the toil
Of busy trifling; of diversions poor,
Which irritate as often as amuse,
Passions most low and sordid! With due shame,
With sorrow I regret—Oh pardon me
This mighty wrong;—that frequent by your side
Silent I've sat, and with a pitying eye
Your follies mark'd, and unadmonish'd left,
Tho' tenderly lamenting! Yet, at last,
[Page 205]—If haply not too late my friendly call
Strike on dead ears, Oh profit by that call!
And, to the grave approaching, its alarms
Weigh with me all considerate! Brief
Time
Advances quick in tread; few hours and dark
Remain: Those hours in frivolous employ
Waste not impertinent; they ne'er return!
Nor deem it dulness to stand still and pause,
When dread eternity hath claim so high.
Oh be those claims fulfill'd!
[Page 206]Nor, my Young Friends,
Whom life's gay sunshine warms with laughing joy,
Pass you those claims unheeding!—In the bud
Of earliest rose oft have I sorrowing seen
The canker worm lurk blighting; oft, ere noon,
The tulip have beheld drop its proud head,
In eminent beauty open'd to the morn!
In Youth, in beauty, in life's outward charms
Boast not self flattering; virtue has a grace,
Religion has a power, which will preserve
Immortal your true excellence! Oh give
[Page 207]Early and happy your young hearts to GOD!
And GOD will smile in countless blessings on you!
Nor, captivate by fashion's idle glare,
And the world's shews delusive, dance the maze,
The same dull round, fatiguing and fatigu'd;
Till, discontented, down in folly's seat,
And disappointment's, worthless, toil'd, you sink,
Despising and despis'd! your gentle hearts
To kind impressions yet susceptible,
Will amiably hear a
friend's advice;
And if, perchance, amidst the giddy whirl
Of circling folly,
his unheeded tongue
[Page 208]Hath whisper'd vanity, or not announc'd
Truth's salutary dictates to your ears—
Forgive the injury, my friends belov'd;
And see me now, solicitous t' atone
That, and each fault, each error; with full eyes
Entreating you, by all your hopes and fears,
By all your dear anxieties, by all
You hold in life most precious, to attend,
To listen to his lore! to seek for bliss
In GOD, in piety! in hearts devote
To duty and to heav'n! And seeking thus,
The treasure is your own.
Angels on earth,
Thus pure and good, soon will ye mount, and live
[Page 209]Eternal angels with your Father GOD!
Of admonition due, just self contempt,
And frank expostulation's honest charge,
The needful debt thus paid; haste thou, my song,
As hastes my life—brief shadow—to its close!
Then farewel, Oh my friends, most valued! Bound
By consanguinity's endearing tie,
Or friendship's noble service, manly love,
And generous obligations! See, in all
—And spare the tear of pity—heaven's high will
Ordaining wise and good.
I see,
I own
His dispensation, howsoever harsh,
[Page 210]To my hard heart, to my rebellious soul
Needful and salutary! His dread rod
Paternal, lo▪ I kiss! And to the stroke
Severe, submissive, thankfully resign!
It weans me from the world; it proves how vain,
How poor the life of erring man!— hath taught,
Experimentally hath taught, to look
With scorn, with triumph upon death; —to wish
The moment come!—Oh were that moment come,
When, launch'd from all that's sinful here below,
Securely I shall sail along the tide
Of glorious eternity! My friends,
Belov'd and honour'd, Oh that we were launch'd,
[Page 211]And sailing happy there, where shortly all
Must one day sail! Oh that in peaceful port
We all were landed! all together safe
In everlasting amity and love,
With GOD, our GOD; our pilot thro' the storms
Of this life's sea!—But, why the frivolous wish?
Set a few suns—a few more days decline;
And I shall meet you—oh the gladsome hour!
Meet you in glory—nor with flowing tears
Afflicted drop my pen, and sigh—
Adieu!
FINIS