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Nor refts fhe here her providence, but nips
With fubtle tooth the grain, left from her garner
In mifchievous fertility it steal,
And back to day-light vegetate its way.
Go to the Ant, thou fluggard, learn to live,
And by her wary ways reform thine own.
But if thy deaden'd fenfe, and liftlefs thought,
More glaring evidence demand; behold,
Where yon pellucid populous hive prefents
A yet uncopied model to the world!
There Machiavel in the reflecting glafs
May read himself a fool. The chemift there
May with aftonifhment invidious view
His toils outdone by each plebeian bee,
Who, at the royal mandate, on the wing,
From various herbs, and from difcordant flowers,
A perfect harmony of fweets compounds.
Avaunt, Conceit! Ambition, take thy flight
Back to the Prince of vanity and air!
O! 'tis a thought of energy moft piercing; [force
Form'd to make Pride grow humble; form'd to
Its weight on the reluctant mind, and give her
A true but irksome image of herself.
Woeful viciffitude! when man, fallen man,
Who first from Heav'n, from gracious God humfelf
Learn'd knowledge of the brutes, must know, by
Inftructed and reproach'd, the fcale of being;
By flow degrees from lowly fteps afcend,
And trace Omnifcience upwards to its fpring!
Yet murmur not, but praife-for tho' we stand
Of many a godlike privilege amerc'd
By Adam's dire tranfgreffion; tho' no more
Is Paradife our home, but o'er the portal
Hangs in terrific pomp the burning blade;
Still with ten thoufand beauties blooms the earth,
With pleasures populous, and with riches crown'd.
Still is there fcope for wonder and for love
Ev'n to their laft exertion-fhowers of bleffings
Far more than human virtue can deserve,
Or hope expect, or gratitude return.
Then, O ye people, O ye fons of men,
Whatever be the colour of your lives,
Whatever portion of itself his Wifdom
Shall deign t' allow, ftill patiently abide,
And praife him more and more; nor ceafe to chant
"All glory to th' Omnifcient, and praife,
"And pow'r, and domination in the height!
"And thou, cherubic Gratitude, whofe voice
"To pious ears founds filverly fo fweet,
"Come with thy precious incenfe, bring thy gifts.
"And with thy choiceft ftores the altar crown.'
'Tis thy terrific voice; all nature hears it,
Awaken'd and alarm'd; the feels its force;
In every spring the feels it, every wheel,
And every movement of her vaft machine.
Behold! quakes Apennine; behold! recoils
Athos; and all the hoary-headed Alps
Leap from their bafes at the god-like found.
But what is this, celeftial tho' the note,
And proclamation of the reign fupreme,
Compar'd with fuch as, for a mortal car
Too great, amaze the incorporeal worlds?
Should Ocean to his congregated waves
Call in each river, cataract, and lake,
And with the wat`ry world down a huge rock
Fall headlong in one horrible cascade,
Twere but the echo of the parting breeze,
When zephyr faints upon the lily's breast;
Twere but the ceafing of some instrument,
When the laft lingering undulation
Dies on the doubting ear, if nam'd with sounds
So mighty! fo ftupendous! fo divine!
But not alone in the aerial vault
Does He the dread theocracy maintain;
For oft, enrag'd with his inteftine thunders,
He harrows up the bowels of the earth,
And fhocks the central magnet-Cities then
Totter on their foundations, ftately columns,
Magnific walls, and heaven-affaulting fpires.
What tho' in haughty eminence erect
Stands the ftrong citadel, and frowns defiance
On adverfe hofts; tho' many a bastion jut
Forth from the rampart's elevated mound;
Vain the poor providence of human art,
And mortal ftrength how vain! while underneath
Triumphs his mining vengeance in th' uproar
Of thatter'd towers, riven rocks, and mountains,
With clamour inconceivable uptorn,
And hurl'd adown th' abyfs. Sulphureous pyrites
Bursting abrupt from darkness into day,
With din outrageous and deftructive ire,
Augment the hideous tumult, while it wounds
Th' afflictive car, and terrifies the eye,
And rends the heart in twain. Twice have we felt,
Within Augufta's walls twice have we felt,
Thy threaten'd indignation : but even Thou,
Incens'd Omnipotent, art gracious ever;
Thy goodnefs infinite but mildly warn'd us,
With mercy-blended wrath; O fpare us ftill,
Nor fend more dire conviction We confefs
That thou art He, th' Almighty: we believe.
For at thy righteous power whole fystems quake;
For at thy nod tremble ten thousand worlds.
Hark! on the winged whirlwind's rapid rage,
Which is and is not in a moment-hark!
Invincible, and oaks, and pines, and cedars,
On th' hurricane's tempeftuous fweep he rides
And forefts are no more. For, conflict dreadful!
The Weft encounters Eaft, and Notus meets
In his career the Hyperborean blaft.
The lordly lions fhuddering feek their dens,
And fly like timorous deer; the king of birds,
Who dar'd the folar ray, is weak of wing,
And faints, and falls, and dies;-while He fupreme
Stands ftedfaft in the centre of the ftorm.
Wherefore, ye objects terrible and great,
Ye thunders, earthquakes, and ye fire-fraught
Of fell volcanos, whirlwinds, hurricanes, [wombs
And boiling billows, hail! in chorus join
To celebrate and magnify your Maker,
Who yet in works of a minuter mould
Is not lefs manifeft, is not lefs mighty.
Survey the magnet's fympathetic love,
That woos the yielding needle; contemplate
Th' attractive amber's power, invisible
Ev'n to the mental eye; or when the blow
Sent from th' electric fphere affaults thy frame,
Shew me the hand that dealt it !-Baffled here
By his Omnipotence, Philosophy
Slowly her thoughts inadequate revolves,
And ftands, with all his circling wonders round her,
Like heavy Saturn in th' ethereal space
Begirt with an inexplicable ring.
If fuch the operations of his power,
Which at all feafons and in every place
(Rul'd by eftablith'd laws and current nature)
Arreft th' attention; who, oh who fhall tell
His acts miraculous? when his own decrees
Repeals he, or fufpends; when by the hand
Of Mofes or of Joshua, or the mouths
Of his prophetic feers, fuch deeds he wrought,
Before th' aftonith'd fun's all-feeing eye,
That faith was fcarce a virtue. Need I fing
The fate of Pharaoh and his numerous band
Loft in the reflux of the wat'ry walls,
That melted to their fluid ftate again?
Need I recount how Sampion's warlike arm
With more than mortal nerves was ftrung, t'o'er-
Idolatrous Philiftia? Shall I tell
How David triumph'd, and what Job fuftain'd
-But, O fupreme, unutterable mercy!
O love unequall'd, mystery immense,
Which angels long t'unfold 'tis man's redemption
That crowns thy glory, and thy power confirms;
Confirms the great, th' uncontroverted claim.
When from the Virgin's unpolluted womb
Shone forth the Sun of Righteoufnefs reveal'd,
And on benighted reafon pour'd the day;
"Let there be peace!" he said, and all was calm
Amongst the warring world-calm as the fea
When," O be still, ye boisterous winds !" he
And not a breath was blown, nor murmur heard.
His was a life of miracles and might,
And charity and love, ere yet he taste
The bitter draught of death, ere yet he rife
Victorious o'er the univerfal foe,
And death, and fin, and hell in triumph lead.
His by the right of conqueft is mankind,
And in sweet fervitude and golden bonds
Were tied to him for ever.-O how eafy
Is his ungalling yoke, and all his burdens
'Tis ecftafy to bear! Him, bleffed Shepherd!
His flocks fhall follow thro' the maze of life,
And fhades that tend to day-spring from on high;
And as the radiant rofes, after fading,
In fuller foliage and more fragrant breath
Revive in fmiling fpring, fo fhall it fare
With thofe that love him-for fweet is their fa-
And all Eternity fhall be their fpring. [vour,
Then fhall the gates and everlafting doors,
At which the King of Glory enters in, [fure
Be to the faints unbarr'd: and there, where plea-
Boafts an undying bloom, where dubious hope
Is certainty, and grief-attended love
Is freed from paflion-there we 'll celebrate,
With worthier numbers, Him who is, and was,
And, in immortal prowefs King of kings,
Shall be the monarch of all worlds for ever.
Ifrael's fweet Pfalmift, who alone couldft wake
Th' inanimate to motion; who alone
The joyful hillocks, the applauding rocks,
And floods, with mufical perfuafion drew;
Thou, who to hailand fnow gav ft voice and found,
And mad'ft the mute melodious !—greater yet
Was thy divineft fkill, and rul'd o'er more
Than art and nature; for thy tuneful touch
Drove trembling Satan from the heart of Saul,
And quell'd the evil Angel :-in this breast
Some portion of thy genuine fpirit breathe,
And lift me from myfelf; each thought impure
Banish; each low idea raife, refine,
Enlarge, and fanctify;-fo fhall the Mufe
Above the stars afpire, and aim to praise
Her God on earth as he is prais'd in heaven.
Immenfe Creator! whofe all-powerful hand
Fram'd univerfal being, and whofe eye
Saw, like thy felf, that all things form'd were good;
Where fhall the timorous Bard thy praife begin,
Where end the pureft facrifice of fong,
And juft thanksgiving-The thought-kindling
Thy prime production, darts upon my mind
Its vivifying beams, my heart illumines,
And fills my foul with gratitude and Thee.
Hail to the cheerful rays of ruddy morn,
That paint the freaky Eaft, and blithsome roufe
The birds, the cattle, and mankind from rest!
Hail to the freshnefs of the early breeze,
And Iris dancing on the new-fall'n dew!
Without the aid of yonder golden globe,
Loft were the garnet's luftre, loft the lily,
The tulip and auricula's fpotted pride;
Loft were the peacock's plumage, to the fight
So pleafing in its pomp and gloffy glow.
O thrice-illuftrious! were it not for Thee,
Thofe panfies, that reclining from the bark
View thro' th' immaculate pellucid ftream
Their portraiture in the inverted heaven,
Might as well change their triple boast, the white,
The purple, and the gold, that far outvie
The Eastern monarch's garb, ev'n with the dock,
Ev'n with the baleful hemlock's irkfome reen.
Without thy aid, without thy gladfome beams,
The tribes of woodland warblers would remain
* See this conjecture strongly supported by Delany, in his Life of David.
Mute on the bending branches, nor recite
The praife of Him, who, ere he form'd their lord,
Their voices tun'd to transport, wing'd their
More than the plenteoufnefs fo fam'd to flow
| By fabling bards from Amalthea's horn
Is thine; thine therefore be a portion due [crown
Of thanks and praife: come with thy brilliant
And veft of fur; and from thy fragrant lap
Pomegranates and the rich ananas pour.
But chiefly thou, Europa, feat of Grace
And Chriftian excellence, his Goodness own,
Forth from ten thoufand temples pour his praife,
Clad in the armour of the living God,
Approach, unsheath the Spirit's flaming fword;
Faith's fhield, falvation's glory-compais'd helm
With fortitude affume, and o'er your heart
Fair Truth's invulnerable breaft-plate spread;
| Then join the general chorus of all worlds,
And let the tong of Charity begin
In ftrains feraphic, and melodious prayer:
"O all-fufficient, all-beneficent,
"Thou God of Goodness and of Glory, hear!
Thou, who to loweft minds doft condescend,
"Affuming paffions to enforce thy laws,
"Adopting jealousy to prove thy love :
"Thou, who refign'd humility uphold'st,
"Ev'n as the fiorift props the drooping rofe,
"But quell'it tyrannic pride with peerless power,
"Ev'n as the tempest rives the stubborn oak :
"O all-fufficient, all-beneficent,
"Thou God of Goodness and of Glory, hear!
"Blefs all mankind; and bring them in the end
"To heav'n, to inmortality, and Thee !"
And bade them call for nurture, and receive:
And lo! they call; the blackbird and the thrush,
The woodlark and the redbrcaft, jointly call;
He hears, and feeds their feather'd families;
He feeds his fweet musicians,-nor neglects
Th' invoking ravens in the greenwood wide;
And tho' their throats coarfe rattling hurt the ear,
They mean it all for mufic, thanks and praife
They mean, and leave ingratitude to mau :--
But not to all-for, hark! the organs blow
Their fwelling notes round the cathedral's dome,
And grace the harmonious choir, celeftial feaft
To pious ears, and med'cine of the mind!
The thrilling trebles and the manly base
Join in accordance meet, and with one voice
All to the facred fubject fuit their fong.
While in each breaft fweet melancholy reigns
Angelically penfive, till the joy
Improves and purifies; the folemn fcene
The Sun thro' ftoried panes furveys with awe,
And bathfully withholds each bolder beam.
Here, as her home, from morn to eve frequents
The cherub Gratitude; behold her eyes!
With love and gladnefs weepingly they thed
Ecftatic fmiles; the incenfc, that her hands
Uprear, is fweeter than the breath of May
Caught from the nectarine's bloffom, and her voice
Is more than voice can tell; to Him the fings,
To Him who feeds, who clothes, and who adorns,
Who made, and who preferves, whatever dwells
In air, in ftedfaft earth, or fickle fea.
O He is good, He is immenfely good! [man;
Who all things form'd, and form'd them all for
Who mark'd the climates, varied every zone,
Difpenfing all his bleffings for the best,
In order and in beauty-rife, attend,
Atteft, and praife, ye quarters of the world!
Bow down, ye elephants, fubmiffive bow
To Him who made the mite! Tho', Afia's pride,
Ye carry armies on your tower-crown'd backs,
And grace the turban'd tyrants, bow to Him
Who is as great, as perfect, and as good
In his lefs ftriking wonders, till at length
The cye 's at fault, and fecks th' affifting glafs.
Approach, and bring from Araby the Blett
The fragrant caffia, frankincenfe, and myrrh,
And, meekly kneeling at the altar's foot,
Lay all the tributary incenfe down.
Stoop, feeble Africa, with reverence ftoop,
And from thy brow take off the painted plume;
With golden ingots all thy camels load
T' adorn his temples; haften with thy fpear
Reverted, and thy trufty bow unftrung,
While unpurfued thy lions roam and roar,
And ruin'd towers, rude rocks, and caverns wide
Re-murmur to the glorious, furly found.
And thou, fair Indian, whofe immenfe domain
To counterpoife the hemifphere extends, [ers,
Hafte from the Weft, and with thy fruits and flow-To fhun the fruitlefs with of fools,
46. Ode to Wisdom. Mifs CARTER. THE folitary bird of night
Thy mines and med'cines, wealthy maid, attend.
Thro' the pale fhades now wings his flight,
And quits the time-fhook tow'r,
Where, fhelter'd from the blaze of day,
In philofophic gloom he lay,
Beneath his ivy bow'r.
With joy I hear the folemn found,
Which midnight echoes waft around,
And fighing gales repeat:
Fav'rite of Pallas! I attend,
And, faithful to thy fummons, bend
At Wifdom's awful feat.
She loves the cool, the filent eve,
Where no falfe fhows of life deceive,
Beneath the lunar ray:
Here Folly drops each vain difguife,
Nor fports her gaily-colour'd dyes,
As in the glare of day.
O Pallas! queen of ev'ry art
"That glads the fenfe or mends the heart,"
Bleft fource of purer joys;
In ev'ry form of beauty bright,
That captivates the mental fight
With pleasure and furprize;
To thy unspotted fhrine I bow,
Affift thy modeft fuppliant's vow,
That breathes no wild defires:
But, taught by thy unerring rules
To nobler views afpires,
Not Fortune's gem, Ambition's plume,
Nor Cytherea's fading bloom,
Be objects of my pray'r;
Let av'rice, vanity, and pride,
Thefe glitt'ring envied toys divide,
The dull rewards of care.
To me thy better gifts impart,
Each moral beauty of the heart,
By ftudious thought refin'd:
For wealth, the fmiles of glad content;
For pow'r, its ampleft, best extent,
An empire o'er my mind.
When Fortune drops her gay parade,
When pleafure's tranfient roles fade,
And wither in the tomb,
Lachang'd is thy immortal prize,
Thy ever-verdant laurels rife
In undecaying bloom.
By thee protected, I defy
The coxcomb's fneer, the ftupid lye
Of ignorance and spite;
Alike contemn the leaden fool,
And all the pointed ridicule
Of undifcerning wit.
From envy, hurry, noife, and ftrife,
The dull impertinence of life,
In thy retreat I reft;
Purfue thee to thy peaceful groves,
Where Plato's facred fpirit roves,
In all thy graces dreit.
He bid Ilyus' tuneful ftream
Convey the philofophic theme
Of perfect, fair, and good:
Attentive Athens caught the found,
And all her lift'ning fons around
In awful filence food.
Reclaim'd, her wild licentious youth
Confefs'd the potent voice of truth,
And felt its juft controul:
The paffions ceas'd their loud alarms,
And virtue's foft perfuafive charms
O'er all their fenfes ftole.
Thy breath infpires the poet's fong,
The patriot's free unbiats'd tongue,
The hero's gen'rous strife:
Thine are retirement's filent joys,
And all the sweet endearing ties
Of ftill, domeftic life.
No more to fabled names confin'd,
To thee, fupreme, all-perfect mind,
My thoughts direct their flight:
Wifdom's thy gift, and all her force
From thee deriv'd, unchanging source
Of intellectual light!
Ofend her fure, her fteady ray
To regulate my doubtful way,
Thro' life's perplexing road;
The mists of error to controul;
And thro' its gloom direct my faul
To happiness and good!
Beneath her clear difcerning eye The vifionary fhadows fly
Of folly's painted show: She fees, thro' ev'ry fair disguise, That all but Virtue's folid joys Is vanity and woe.
§ 47. On buman Life.
BY Time's flow-heaving tide, the works of man Are whelm'd; how finks beneath his wasteful fway
The pride of empire! Glittering for a while,
The gilded veffels fport along the ftream,
Fann'd with propitious gales: the fides are firm,
The hull capacious, and the fwelling fails
Float to the breeze of fummer. Ah! how foon,
Torn by the tempeft's wildly-rushing wing,
And foundering on the deep it lies deform'd,
A fhatter'd wreck! Nor lefs on life defcends
The form impetuous; let thy filver hairs,
Time-hallow'd age, be witnefs! the dim eye,
The tottering tread, the furrow'd cheek, the hand
Yet trembling from the blaft. Tell, ye who tend
The bed of death, how o'er the helpless race
Of human victims ftrides the harpy foot
Of Mifery triumphant! while the veins
Shrink to the Fever's fcorching breath, or feel,
Starting, the fiery dart of racking Pain,
That writhes to agony; or loofen'd fhake
Before Confumption; when her baleful spunge
Drops its green poifon on the fprings of life.
Nor thefe alone purfue the race of man.
Far other ills await; far other woes
Like vultures revel on his canker'd heart.
O ye who nightly languish o'er the tomb, Where fleeps thy duft, Eugenio! Ye whofe hearts O'er Virtue bleed, when, reeking from the fcourge Of dire Oppreffion, in forme lonely cave
She pines all defolate-Ye powers that haunt The vale where Genius breathes her plaint alone, Wild to the whiftling wind; her voice unheard, As airs that warble o'er the murmuring dale Remote, to Solitude's inchanting ear!
O tell, why wrapt in Grandeur's floating robe Vice mounts her throne! while, treinbling at the
Were feen innumerable fhapes, whofe wings
Wav'd on the wind, or o'er the glittering field
Who trod in filence. Care with lowering brow
Slow ftalk'd; and Slander, fpeckled as the fnake
That ftings th' unwary traveller, along
The tainted earth trail'd loofe, or borne on wings
Blue as the brimftone's gleam, in fecret fhot
Her poifon'd arrows. Pining Envy gnaw'd
A blafted laurel, from the locks of Fame
Snatch'd, as the goddefs to her lips applied
Her mighty trump, and swell'd a folemn note
To Homer's venerable name.-Not far
Stood Discord foaming. Riot double-tongu'd,
And gleaming Frenzy, and thy yellow wing,
Revenge, fell fiend! fhook plagues, and thro' the
Infus'd their venom to the inmoft foul. [breaft
O'er all, Disease her beauty-withering wand
Wav'd high; and, heaving on the heavy air
Her raven pinions, bloated as the fail'd
The face of Nature. Shapelefs was her form,
And void; the owl's ill-omen'd eyes high-rais'd
Speckled her front; her noftrils breath'd a cloud;
Pale Famine's fallow hand had scoop'd her cheek;
And a green viper form'd her forky tongue.
Along the troubled air; and from a bag
(Wrought deep by Envy in her midnight den)
Scatter'd the feeds of death. The fparkling bowl
Receiv'd them now and now the enfeebled corfe,
Lank, open, spent, at each unfolding pore
Suck'd in the poifon, as it rofe decay'd,
Livid, and weak, from Pleafure's loofe embrace.
Soon o'er each withering check the baleful
Had fpread unfeen her life-confuming ftain;
Nor knew th' exulting youth, who quaft'd clate
The draught delicious, that untimely frost
Lurk'd by the fprings of life; and fecret chill'd
The florid blood, and mark'd him for the tomb.
At laft with weak ftep came the trembling Sage,
Haggard, and fhrinking from the breeze; his voice
Was deep, and hollow; and the loofe nerves fhook
His filver-fprinkled head. He thus began:
"O yet, while Heav'n fufpends your doom, be
My fons! O cease to listen to the lore [wife,
Of Pleafure! Death attends her forward step,
And Peril lays the fure, tho' fecret fnare.
Hear, then, the words of age. Yet Fate beftows
One hour; yet Virtue, with indulgent voice,
By me invites to fhun the devious maze
of Error:-Yet to crown with length of days,
With joy, with happiness, your bold carcer
She hopes! O fnatch the proffer'd boon! be rous'd;
Ere her strong arm tremendous at your heads
Shall launch th' avenging thunder; ere difmay'd,
Perplex'd, bewilder'd, wild, you feck the haunt
Of Peace, when darkness veils her lowly cot;
And mourn her gentle finile for ever gone."
§ 49. Wishes obtained often make Men miferable.
Of high-brow'd Opulence! Intemperance,
The fruitful parent of Disease, behind
Reels loofe, and filent plants th' entangling fnare.
Oft when, to vengeance rous'd, th' Eternal dooms
Some wretch to mifery extreme; he grants
The fervent with; he gives th' infatiate eye
To rove tranfported o'er its golden store;
The heart to fwell like Xerxes', when he view'd
His hofts that wrapt th' immcafurable plain,
And triumph'd in his pow'r. Thus fares the
As, whirl'd by Paffion, thro' life's dufty field
He burfis exulting. On the drooping head
Of Merit, fhy to cenfure, and repreft
By decent Pride from murmuring; his rude hand
Arrefts the palm. He gains it; and ador'd
By Folly's wondering train, prefumptuous shapes
His courfe; till like a canker at the root,
That fecret riots on the vital stream,
Slow, but fure-wafting Fate in filence takes
Th' inevitable aim; and fpares the hand
Of hoary Time his filver and his fcythe.
O weak thro' Paffion's erring glafs to view What cooler thought condemns! Think'ft thou the man
By birth exalted, by the lavish hand
Of Fortune crown'd with honour, whofe gay hours
Dance to the melting lute's melodious lay,
Is happy-Know, thy waitdering fearch mistakes
The fhade for fubftance. Could thy thought ex-
The mind within; what real ills excite [plore
The mental tumult; to the trembling gaze
Of Fear what phantoms of imagin'd woes
Swim thro' the dark night's folemn noon, when
Shakes not her poppies o'er his longing eyes,
That rol in vain, what inward-eating care
Preys on his pamper'd blood; what withes wild;
What dread of future mifery; what dreams
Of horror gleam athwart the fable fcroll [scene
Where Memory prints her records: would the
Wake thee to envy? Would thy wishing soul
Pant for the boon that glitters to the eye,
But ftings the heart and poisons all its joy?
I read thy fecret doubt :-"'Tis Guilt that
The brow of Grandeur; 'tis the folemn peal
Of Confcience thundering in the mental ear,
That wakes to quick fenfation. To the dream
Of harmless Innocence, no Demon shakes
His front terrific: All is calm within,
And tuned to perfect harmony.-Yet Peace
May dwell with Opulence; one happy mind
May eye rejoicing its extended power
To work for man; exulting as it views
A fmiling tribe around, fnatch'd from the grafp
Of ruthless want, and basking in the beam
Of joy, to tranfport kindling, and to love."
'Tis juft.-The noble mind by Fortune rais'd,
And warm'd by strong benevolence to spread
Its happiness to all, difplays to man
His Maker's image. To a godlike few
YET warn'd, behold what danger marks the Heav'n gives at once the virtue and the power:
Yet plants not Opulence for these a snare,