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And ye, whofe bolder note is heard afar,
Who thake th'aftonish'd world, lift high to heav'n
Th'impetuous fong, and fay from whom you rage.
His praite, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I mufe along.
Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound;
Ye fofter floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou majestic main,
A fecret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound his ftupendous praife, whofe greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roaring fall.
So roll your incenfe, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him, whofe fun exalts,
Whofe breath perfumes you, and whofe pencil

Ye foreits bend, ye harvefts wave, to Him;
Breathe your ftill tong into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heav'n, as earth allcep
Unconscious lies, effufe your mildeft beams,
Ye conftellations, while your angels ftrike,
Amid the fpangled fky, the filver lyre.
Great fource of day! bleft image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On nature write with every beam his praise.
The thunder rolls: be hufh'd the proftrate world;
While cloud to cloud returns the folemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye moly rocks,
Retain the found: the broad refponfive low,
Ye valleys, raife; for the Great Shepherd reigns;
And his unfuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands, all awake: a boundless fung
Burft from the groves! and when the reftiefs day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world afleep,
Sweeteft of birds! fweet Philomela, charm

When even at laft the folemn hour fhall come,
And wing my myftic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rifing wonders fing: I cannot go
Where univerfal love not fmiles around,
Suftaining all yon orbs, and all their funs :
From feeming evil ftill educing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progreffion.-But I lofe
Myfelf in Him, in light ineffable!
Come then, expreffive filence, mufe his praife.

The liftening fhades, and teach the nighthis praife.
Ye chief for whom the whole creation fmiles;
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn In fwarming cities vaft,
Affembled men to the deep organ join
The long-refounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At folemn paufes, thro' the fwelling base;
And as each mingling flame increafes each,
In one united ardour rife to heav'n.
Or if you rather choose the rural shade,
And find a fanc in every facred grove;
There let the fhepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting feraph, and the poct's lyre,
Still fing the God of Scafons as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the bloffom blows; the Summer ray
Ruffets the plain; infpiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter lifes in the blackening caft;
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.

Should fate command me to the fartheft verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous clines,
Rivers unknown to fong; where first the fun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his fetting beam
Flames on th' Atlantic ifles; 'tis nought to me:
Since God is ever prefent, ever felt,
In the void wafte as in the city full;
And where He vital spreads, there must be joy.

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The fightless herd fequacious, who pursue
Dull Folly's path, and do as others do,
Who look with purblind prejudice and fcorn,
On different fects, in different nations born,
Let us, my Craufurd, with compassion view,
Pity their pride, but fhun their error too.
From Belvidere's fair groves, and mountains

Which Nature rais'd, rejoicing to be seen,
Let us, while raptur'd on her works we gaze,
And the heart riots on luxurious praise,
Th' expanded thought, the boundless wish retain,
And let not Nature moralize in vain.

WH HERE is the man, who, prodigal of mind,
In one wide with embraces human kind:
All pride of fects, all party zeal above,
Whofe Prieft is Reafon, and whofe God is Love;
Fair Nature's friend, a foe to fraud and art→→→→
Where is the man, fo welcome to my heart?

O facred Guide! preceptrefs more fublime Than fages boafting o'er the wrecks of time! See on cach page her beauteous volume bear The golden characters of good and fair. All human knowledge (bluth, collegiate pride!) Flows from her works, to none that reads denied. Shall the dull inmate of pedantic walls, On whofe old walk the funbeam feldom falls, Who knows of nature, and of man, no more Than fills fome page of antiquated lore Shall he, in words and terms profoundly wife, The better knowledge of the world despise, Think Wildom centred in a falfe degree, And fcorn the fcholar of Humanity?

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Gods! to what meanne fs may the fpirit fall! Powers that should spread in reafon's orient ray, How are they darken'd, and debarr'd the day!

When late, where Tajo rolls his ancient tide, Reflecting clear the mountain's purple fide, Thy genius, Craufurd, Britain's legions led, And fear's chill cloud forfook each bright'ning



Say, did not human follies vex thy heart?
By nature brave, and generous as thou art,
Glow'd not thy breaft indignant, when you faw
The dome of murder confecrate by law?
Where fiends, commiffion'd with the legal rod,
pure devotion, burn the works of God.
O change me, powers of Nature, if ye can,
Transform me, make me any thing but man.
Yet why? This heart all human kind forgives,
While Gillman loves me, and while Craufurd
Is Nature, all benevolent, to blame, Llives.
That half her offspring are their mother's fhame?
Did the ordain o'er this fair feene of things
The cruelty of Priests, or pride of Kings?




Though worlds lie murder'd for their wealth or Poor rioters on Life's contracted stage!
Behold, and lofe your littleness of rage!
And yield to Truth the empire of the mind.
Throw Envy, Folly, Prejudice, behind!

Immorta! Truth! O from thy radiant shrine,
Where Light created firft effay'd to shine;
Where cluft'ring Stars eternal beams display,
And Gems ethereal drink the golden day;
To chafe this moral, clear this fenfual night,
O fhed one ray of thy celeftial light!
Teach us, while wandering through this vale

Is Nature, all benevolent, to blame?

"Yet furely once, my friend, the feem'd to err;
"For W-ch-t was"-He was not made by her.
Sure, form'd of clay that nature held in fcorn,
By fiends conftructed, and in darkness born,
Rofe the low wretch, who, despicably vile,
Would fell his Country for a Courtier's fimile;
Would give up all to truth and freedom dear,
To dine with or fome ideot peer,
Whose mean malevolence in dark disguise
The man that never injur'd him belies,
Whofe actions bad and good two motives guide,
The Serpent's malice, and the Coxcomb's pride.
"Is there a wretch fo mean, fo bale, fo low?"
I know there is-afk W-ch-t if he know.

O that the world were emptied of its flaves! That all the fools were gone, and all the knaves! Then might we, Craufurd, with delight embrace

In boundless love the rest of human race.
But let not knaves mifanthropy create,
Nor feed the gall of univerfal hate.
Wherever Genius, Truth, and Virtue dwell,
Polish'd in courts, or fimple in a cell,
All views of country, fects, and creeds apart,
Thefe, thefe I love, and hold them to my heart.

Vain of our beauteous ifle, and justly vain,
For freedom here, and health, and plenty reign,
We different lots contemptuously compare,
And boast, like children, of a fav'rite's fhare.

Yet though each vale a deeper verdure yields
Than Arno's banks, or Andalufia's fields,
Though many a tree-crown'd mountain teems
with ore,
Though flocks innumerous whiten every thore,
Why should we, thus with nature's wealth elate,
Behold her different families with hate?
Look on her works-on every page you'll find
Infcrib'd the doctrine of the focial mind.

See countless worlds of infect being share
Th' unenvied regions of the liberal air!
In the fame grove what mufic void of thrife!
Heirs of one ftream, what tribes of fcaly life!
Sec Earth, and Air, and Fire, and Flood combine,
Of general good to aid the great defign!

Where Ancon drags o'er Lincoln's lurid plain,
Like a flow inake, his dirty-winding train,
Where fogs eternal blot the face of day,
And the loft bittern moans his gloomy way;
As well we might, for unpropitious kics,
The blameless native with his clime defpife,
As him who fill the poorer lot partakes
Of Bifcay's mountains, or Batavia's lakes.

Yet look once more on Nature's various plan!
Behold, and love her nobleft creature man!
She, never partial, on each various zone
Beltow'd fome portion to the reft unknown,
By mutual intereft meaning thence to bind
In one vaft chain the commerce of mankind.

Behold, ye vain disturbers of an hour!
Ye Dupes of Faction! and ye Tools of Power

We know but little, that we little know.
One beam to mole-ey'd Prejudice convey,
Let Pride perceive one mortifying ray;
Thy glafs to Fools, to Infidels apply,
And all the dimnefs of the mental eye.

Plac'd on this fhore of Time's far-ftretching

With leave to look at Nature and return;
While wave on wave impels the human tide,
And ages fink, forgotten as they glide;
Can Life's fhort duties better be discharg'd,
Than when we leave it with a mind enlarg'd?
Judg'd not the old Philofopher aright,
When thus he preach'd, his pupils in his fight?
Your little walk of tranfient life may lic;
"It matters not, my friends, how low or high,
And warring paffions militate no more:
Soon will the reign of Hope and Fear be o'er,
And trust me, he who, having once furvey'd
The good and fair which Nature's wifdom made,
The fooneft to his former state retires,
And feels the peace of fatisfied defires,
(Let others deem more wifely if they can)
I look on him to be the happicft man."

Because I feel his fentiments are juft.
So thought the facred Sage, in whom I trust,
'Twas not in Luftrums of long counted years
That fwell'd th'alternate reign of hopes and fears;
Not in the fplendid fcenes of pain and strife,
That Wifdom plac'd the dignity of life;
To ftudy Nature was the task defign'd,
And learn from her th'enlargement of the mind,
Learn from her works whatever Truth admires,
And fleep in Death with fatisfied defires.

$33. EPISTLE II. To William Langhorne, M. A. 1760.

LIGHT heard his voice, and, eager to obey,

From all her orient fountains burft away.
At Nature's birth, O! had the power divine
Commanded thus the moral fun to thine,
Beam'd on the mind all reafon's influence bright,
Then the free foul, on Truth's ftrong pinion borne,
And the full day of intellectual light,
Had never languish'd in this fhade forlorn.

Yet thus imperfect form'd, thus blind and vain,
Doom'd by long toil a glimple of truth to gain;
Beyond its sphere fhall human wifdom go,
And boldly cenfure what it cannot know ?
'Tis ours to cherifh what Heav'n deign'd to give,
And thankful for the gift of being live.


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Progreffive powers, and faculties that rife From earth's low vale, to grafp the golden fkies, Though distant far from perfect, good, or fair, Claim the due thought, and afk the grateful


There from thofe ills a fafe retreat behold, Which young might vanquish, or afflict him


Come, then, thou partner of my life and name, From one dear fource, whom Nature form'd the fame,

Ally'd more nearly in cach nobler part,
And more the friend, than brother of my heart!
Let us, unlike the lucid twins that rife
At different times, and fhine in diftant fkies,
With mutual eye this mental world furvey,
Mark the flow rife of intellectual day,
View reafon's fource, if man the fource may find,
And trace each Science that exalts the mind.

“Thou self-appointed lord of all below! Ambitious man, how little doft thou know? For once let Fancy's towering thoughts fubfide;

Look on thy birth, and mortify thy pride!
A plaintive wretch, fo blind, to helpless born,
The brute fagacious might beheld with fcorn.
How foon, when Nature gives him to the day,
In ftrength exulting, does he bound away!
By inftinet led, the foftering teat he finds,
Sports in the ray, and shuns the fearching winds.
No grief he knows, he feels no groundle's fear,
Feeds without cries, and fleeps without a tear.
Did he but know to reafon and compare,
See here the vaffal, and the inafter there,
What strange reflections must the scene afford,
That fhew'd the weakness of his puling Lord!"

Thus fophiftry unfolds her fpecious plan,
Form'd not to humble, but depreciate man.
Unjuft the cenfure, if unjuft to rate
His pow'rs and merits from his infant-state.
For, grant the children of the flow'ry vale
By inftinct wifer, and of limbs more hale,
With equal eye their perfect ftate explore,
And all the vain comparifon's no more.
"But why should life, fo fhort by Heav'n

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"That, in proportion as each being stays In perfect life, it rifes and decaysIs Nature's law-to forms alone confin'd, The laws of matter act not on the Mind. Too feebly, fure, its faculties muft grow, And Reafon brings her borrow'd light too flow." O! ftill cenforious? art thou then poffeft Of Reafon's power, and does the rule thy breast? Say what the ufe-had Providence affign'd To infant years maturity of mind? That thy pert offspring, as their father wife, Might fcorn thy precepts, and thy pow'r defpife >

Or mourn, with ill-match'd faculties at ftrife,
O'er limbs unequal to the task of life?
To feel more fenfibly the woes that wait
On every period, as on every state;
And flight, fad convicts of each painful truth,
The happier trifles of unthinking youth?

Conclude we then the progrefs of the mind
Ordain'd by wisdom infinitely kind:
No innate knowledge on the foul impreft,
No birthright instinct acting in the breast,
No natal light, no beam from Heav'n difplay'd,
Dart through the darkness of the mental fhade.
Perceptive powers we hold from Heav'n's decree,
Alike to knowledge as to virtue free,
In both a liberal agency we hear,
The moral here, the intellectual there;
And hence in both an equal joy is known,
The confcious pleafure of an act our own.

When first the trembling eye receives the day, External forms on young perception play; External forms affect the mind alone, Their diff'rent pow'rs and properties unknown. See the pleas'd infant court the flaming brand, Eager to grafp the glory in its hand! The cryftal wave as cager to pervade Stretch its fond arins to meet the finiling fhade! When Memory's call the mimic words obey, And wing the thought that falters on its way; When wife Experience her flow verdict draws, The fure effect exploring in the Caule, In Nature's rude, but not unfruitful wild, Reflection fprings, and Reafon is her child: On her fair flock the blooming fcyon grows, And brighter through revolving feafons blows. All beauteous flow'r! immortal fhalt thou fhine,

When dim with age yon golden orbs decline,
Thy orient bloom, unconfcious of decay,
Shall fpread, and flourish in eternal day.

O! with what art, my friend, what early care,
Should wisdom cultivate a plant fo fair!
How should her eye the rip'ning mind revife,
And blaft the buds of folly as they rife!
How fhould her hand with industry restrain,
The thriving growth of paflion's fruitful train,
Afpiring weeds, whofe lofty arms would tow'r
With fatal fhade o'er reafon's tender flow'r


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Lives in thofe powers of harmony that bind Congenial hearts, and stretch from mind to mind: Glow'd in that warmth, that social kindness gave, Which once-the reft is filence and the grave.

O tears, that warm from wounded friendship flow !

O thoughts, that wake to monuments of woe!
Reflection keen, that points the painful dart;
Mem'ry, that fpeeds its paffage to the heart;
Sad monitors, your cruel power fufpend,
And hide, for ever hide, the buried friend :
-In vain-confeft I fee my Craufurd ftand,
And the pen falls-falls from my trembling hand;
E'en Death's dim fhadow feeks to hide, in vain,
That lib'ral afpect, and that smile humane;
Een Death's din fhadow wears a languid light,
And his eye beams through everlafting night.

Till the last figh of Genius fhall expire,
His keen eye faded, and extinct his fire,
Till time, in league with Envy and with Death,
Blast the kill'd hand, and stop the tuneful breath,

My Craufurd still shall claim the mournful fong So long remember'd, and bewail'd so long.

§ 34. The Univerfal Prayer. POPE. Deo Opt. Max.

FATHER of all! in ev'ry age, In ev'ry clime, ador'd,

By Saint, by Savage, and by Sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Thou Great First Cause, least understood,
Who all my fenfe confin'd
To know but this, that Thou art good,
Yet gave me, in this dark eftate,
And that myself am blind:

To fee the good from ill;
And, binding nature faft in fate,
Left free the human will.
What confcience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,

This teach me more than hell to fhun,
That more than heav'n purfue.

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If I am right, thy grace impart
Still in the right to ftay;

If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious difcontent,
At aught thy wisdom has deny'd,
Or aught thy goodnefs lent.
Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I fee;
That mercy I to others fhow,

That mercy fhow to me.
Mean tho' I am, not wholly fo,

Since quicken'd by thy breath; O lead me wherefoe'er I go,


Thro' this day's life or death. This day, be bread and peace my All elfe beneath the fun, Thou know'ft if beft bestow'd or not, And let thy will be done.

To Thee, whofe temple is all space,
Whofe altar, earth, fea, fkics!
One chorus let all Being raife!
All nature's incenfè rife!

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