And canft thou, stupid man, thofe forrows fee,
Nor fhare the anguifh which He bears for thee?
Thy fin, for which his facred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn;
Canft thou?-while nature finarts in ev'ry wound
And each pang cleaves the fympathetic ground!
Lo! the black fun, his chariot backward driv'n,
Blots out the day, and perishes from Heav'n :
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part,
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart.
The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign,
And the cold clay-clad dead start into life again.
And thou, O tomb, once more thall wide difplay
Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey.
Thou,groaning earth,fhalt heave,abforpt in flame,
As the laft pangs convulfe thy lab'ring frame;
When the fame God unshrouded thou shalt fee,
Wrapt in full blaze of pow'r and majesty,
Ride on the clouds; whilft, as his chariot flies,
The bright effufion ftreams thro' all the skies.
Then fhall the proud diffolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow:
The molten deluge round the globe shall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.
Then thall the fplendors of th'enliven❜d glass
Sink undistinguish'd in the burning mass.
And O! till earth, and feas, and heav'n decay,
Ne'er may that fair creation fade away! [fpare!
May winds and ftorms those beauteous colours
Still may they bloom, as permanent as fair!
All the vain rage of wafting time repel,
And his tribunal fee, whofe Crofs they paint fo
well!

269. Death. EMILY.

TH
HE feftive roar of laughter, the warm glow
Of brifk-ey'd joy, and friendship's genial bowl,
Wit's feafon'd converse, and the liberal flow

Of unfufpicious youth, profufe of foul,
Delight not ever; from the boisterous scene
Of riot far, and Comus' wild uproar,
From folly's crowd, whofe vacant brow ferene
Was never knit to wifdom's frowning lore,
Permit me, ye time-hallow'd domes, ye piles

Of rude magnificence, your folemn rest, Amid your fretted vaults and length'ning ifles, Lonely to wander; no unholy gueft That means to break, with facrilegious tread, The marble flumbers of your monumented dead. Permit me, with fad mufings, that inspire

Unlabour'd numbers apt, your filence drear Blameless to wake, and with the Orphean lyre, Fitly attemper'd, footh the merciless ear Of Hades, and ftern death, whofe iron fway Great nature owns thro' all her wide domain; All that with oary fin cleave their smooth way Thro' the green bofom of the fpawny main, And those that to the streaming æther spread,

In many a wheeling glide, their feathery fail; And thofe that creep; and thofe that statelier tread, That roam o'er foreft, hill, or browsy dale; The victims cach of ruthless fate muft fall, [all. 'en God's own image, man, high paramount of

And ye, the young, the giddy, and the gay,
That startle from the flcepful lid of light
The curtain'd reft, and with the diffonant bray
Of Bacchus, and loud jollity, affright
Yon radiant goddess, that now fhoots among
Thefe many-window'd ifles her glimmering beam,
Know, that or ere its starr'd career along

Thrice shall have roll'd her filver wheeled team,
Some parent breaft may heave the anfwering figh,
To the flow pauses of the funeral knoll;
E'en now black Atropos, with fcowling eye,
E'en now in rofy-crown'd pleafure's wreath
Roars in the laugh, and revels o'er the bowl;
Entwines in adder folds all unfufpected Death.
Know, on the stealing wing of time shall flee
Some few, fome fhort-liv'd years, and all is paft;
A future bard these awful domes may fee,

Mufe o'er the prefent age, as I the laft; Who mouldering in the grave, yet once like you The various maze of life were seen to tread ; Each bent their own peculiar to pursue,

As custom urg'd or wilful nature led; Mix'd with the various crowds inglorious clay, The nobler virtues undiftinguifh'd lie; No more to melt with beauty's heav'n-born ray, No more to wet compaffion's tearful eye, Catch from the poet raptures not their own, And feel the thrilling melody of sweet renown. Where is the master-hand, whofe femblant art Chiffel'd the marble into life, or taught From the well-pencil'd portraiture to start

The nerve that beat with foul, the brow that thought!

Cold are the fingers that in ftone-fix'd trance The mute attention rivetting, to the lyre Struck language: dimm'd the poet's quick-ey'd

glance,

All in wild raptures flashing heav'n's own fire. Shrunk is the finew'd energy, that ftrung [breaft The warrior arm: where fleeps the patriot Whilom that heav'd impaffion'd! Where the tongue

That lanc'd its lightning on the tow'ring creft Of fcepter'd infolence, and overthrew [crew! Giant Oppreffion, leagu’d with all her earth-born Thefe now are paft; long, long, ye fleeting years,

Purfue with glory wing'd, your fated way, Ere from the womb of time unwelcome peers

The dawn of that inevitable day, [friend When wrapt in fhrouded clay their warmest The widow'd virtues fhall again deplore, When o'er his urn in pious grief shall bend

His Britain, and bewail one patriot more; For foon must thou, too foon who spread' Thy beaming emanations unconfin'd, [abroad, Doom'd, like fome better angel fent of God

To fcatter bleffings over humankind. Thou too muft fall, O Pitt! to fhine no more, And tread thefe dreadful paths a Faulkland trod before.

Faft to the driving winds the marshall'd clouds Sweep difcontinuous o'er th'ethereal plain; Another ftill upon another crowds;

All hast'ning downward to their native main. Tha

Thus paffes o'er thro' varied life's career, Man's fleeting age, the Scafons as they fly Snatch from us in their courfe, year after year, Some fwest connection, fome endearing tic. The parent, ever-honour'd, ever-dear,

Claims from the filial breaft the pious figh; A brother's urn demands the kindred tear, And gentle forrows gufh from friendship's eye. To-day we frolic in the rofy bloom [tomb. Of jocund youth-the morrow knalls us to the Who knows how foon in this fepulchral spot Shall Heav'n to me the drear abode allign! How foon the past irrevocable lot

Of thefe, that reft beneath me, fhall be mine. Haply, when Zephyr to thy native bourn [wave, Shall waft thee o'er the ftorm'd Hibernian Thy gentle breaft, my Tavistock, shall mourn To find me fleeping in the fenfelefs grave. No more the focial leifure to divide,

In the fweet intercourse of foul and foul, Blithe, or of graver brow; no more to chide The ling'ring years impatient as they roll, Till all thy cultur'd virtues fhall difplay, [day. Full bloffom'd, their bright honours to the gazing Ah, dearest youth! thefe vows perhaps unheard, The rude wind featters o'er the billowy main; Thefe prayers,at friendship's holy fhrine preferr'd, May rife to grafp their father's knees in vain. Soon, foon may nod the fad funereal plume

With folemn horror o'er thy timeless hearfe, And I furvive to grave upon thy tomb

The mournful tribute of memorial verfe. That leave to Heav'n's decifion-Be it thine, Higher than yet a parent's wishes flew, To foar in bright pre-eminence, and thine

Better employ'd in honour's bright career
The leaft divifion on the dial's round,
Than thrice to compafs Saturn's live-long year,
Grown old in floth, the burthen of the ground;
Than tug with fweating toil the lavith oar
Of unredeem'd affliction, and fufiain
The fev'rous rage of fierce difcafes fore.

Unnumber'd, that in fympathetic chain
Hang ever thro' the thick circumfluous air,fphere.
All from the drizzly verge of yonder far-girt
Thick in the many beaten road of life

A thoufand maladies are pofted round, With wretched man to wage eternal trife Unfeen, like ambuth'd Indians, till they wound There the fwoln hydrop ftands,the wat'ry rheum, The northern fcurvy, blotch with lep'rous And moping ever in the cloifter'd gloom [icale; Of learned floth, and bookish aithina pale: And the hunn'd hag unfightly, that ordain'd On Europe's fons to wreak the faithlefs foord Of Cortez, with the blood of millions ftam'd, O'er dog-ey'd luft the tort'ring fcourge ab[ber flight Shakes threat'ning; fince the while the wing'd From Amazon's broad wave, and Andes' fnowclad height.

horr'd,

Where the wan daughter of the yellow year,

The chatt'ring ague chill, the writhing stone, And he of ghattly feature, on whofe ear [moan, Unheeded croaks the death-bird's warning Marafinus; knotty gout; and the dead life

Of nervelefs palfy; there on purpose fell Dark brooding, whets his interdicted knife Grim fuicide, the damed fiend of hell. There too is the ftunn'd apoplexy pight **, The bloated child of gorg'd intemp'rance foul; Self-wafting melancholy, black as night,

Lowering, and foaming fierce with hideous The dog hydrophoby, and near ally'd [howl; Scar'd madness, with her moon-ftruck eye;

balls ftaring wide.

there

The meagre famine there, and drunk with blood
Stern war, and the loath'd monfter whom of
The flimy Naiad of the Memphian flood [yore
Engend'ring, to the bright-hair'd Phoebus bore,
Foul peftilence, that on the wide-ftretch'd wings
Of commerce, fpecds from Cairo's fwarthy bay
His weftering flight, and thro' the fick air flings
Spotted contagion; at his heels difinay
And defolation urge their fire-wheel'd yoke
Terrible; as long of old, when from the height
Of Paran came unwreath'd the mightieft, fhook
Earth's firm fixt bafe tottering; thro' the black
night
→ [abroad
Glanc'd the flash'd lightnings: heaven's rent roof
Thunder'd, and univerfal nature felt its God.
Who on that scene of terror, on that hour

Of roufed indignation, fhall withstand Th'Almighty, when he meditates to shower The bursting vengeance o'er a guilty land! Canft thou, fecure in reason's vaunted pride, Tongue-doughty mifcreant, who but now didft

I

Have I not been defended still
From dangers, and from death?
Been fafe preferv'd from ev'ry ill
E'er fince thou gave me breath?
live once more, to fee the day
That brought me first to light;
teach my willing heart the way
To take thy mercies right.
Tho' dazzling fplendor, pomp, and show,
My fortune has deny'd;

O!

Yet (more than grandeur can bestow)
Content hath well supply'd.

No ftrife has e'er disturb'd my peace;
No mis'ries have I known;
And, that I'm blefs'd with health and cafe,
With humble thanks I own.

I envy no one's birth or fame,
Their titles, train, or drefs;
Nor has my pride e'er stretch'd its aim
Beyond what I poffefs.

I ask and wish not to appear

More beauteous, rich, or gay; Lord, make me wifer ev'ry year, And better ev'ry day.

8271. A Moral Reflection. Written on the firs
Day of the Year 1782.
SEVENTEEN Hundred Eighty-one
Is now for ever past;
Seventeen Hundred Eighty-two

But whether life's uncertain scene
Will fly away as fast.

Or whether death fhall come between,
Shall hold an equal pace ;

And end my mortal race;

Or whether sickness, pain, or health,
My future lot shall be;
Or whether poverty or wealth,
Is all unknown to me.
One thing I know, that needful 'tis
To watch with careful eye;
Since ev'ry feafon spent amifs

Is regifter'd on high.

Too well I know what precious hours
My wayward paffions wafte;
And oh I find my mortal pow'rs

To duft and dark nefs hafte.
Earth rolls her rapid seasons round,
To meet her final fire;

But virtue is with glory crown'd,
Tho' funs and stars expire.
What awful thoughts! what truth sublime i
What ufeful leffon this!
O! let me well improve my time!

Oh! let me die in peace!

§ 272. The Welcome Meenger.
LORD, when we fee a faint of thine
Lie gafping out his breath,
With longing eyes, and looks divine,
Smiling and pleas'd in death,

WATTS

How

How we could c'en contend to lay
Our limbs upon that bed !
We ask thine envoy to convey
Our fpirits in his stead.
Our fouls arifing on the wing,
To venture in his place;

For when grim death has loft his fting.
He has an angel's face.

Jefus, then purge my crimes away,
'Tis guilt creates my fears;
'Tis guilt gives death its fierce array,
And all the arms it bears.

Oh! if my threat'ning fins were gone,
And death had loft his fting,
1 could invite the angel on,
And chide his lazy wing.
Away thefe interpofing days,
And let the lovers meet;
The angel has a cold embrace,

But kind, and loft, and fweet,

I'd leap at once my feventy years,
I'd ruth into his arms,

And lofe my breath and all my cares,
Amidit thole heav'nly charins.

Joyful I'd lay this body down,
And leave the lifelcis clay,
Without a figh without a groan,
And stretch and foar away.

EARTH has detain❜d me pris'ner long,

And I'm grown weary now:
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
There's nothing here for you.

Tir'd in my thoughts, I ftretch me down,
And upwards glance my eyes;
Upward, my Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.

There the dear Man, my Saviour, fits,
The God how bright he fhines!
And fcatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.

Seraphs with elevated strains,

Circle the throne around,

And move and charm the starry plains
With an immortal found.

Jefus, the Lord, their harps employs;
Jefus, my love, they fing:
Jefus, the name of both our joys,
Sounds fweet from ev'ry ftring.
Hark, how, beyond the narrow bounds
Of time and space they run,
And speak, in moft majestic founds,
The Godhead of the Son!
How on the Father's breast he lay,
The darling of his foul,
Infinite years before the day
Or heavens began to roll.

And now they fink the lofty tone,
And gentler notes they play,
And bring th'eternal Godhead down
To dwell in humble clay.

O facred beauties of the Man!
(The God refides within)
His flesh all pure without a stain;
His foul without a fin,

Then how he look'd and how he smil'd!
What wond'rous things he said !
Sweet cherubs, stay, dwell here a while,
And tell what Jefus did!

At his command the blind awake,
And feel the gladsome rays;
He bids the dumb attempt to fpeak;
They try their tongues in praife.
He shed a thousand bleffings round
Where'er he turn'd his eye:
He fpoke, and, at the fov'reign found,
The hellish leigons fly.

Thus, while, with unambitious ftrife,
Th'ethereal minstrels rove
Through all the labours of his life,

And wonders of his love,

In the full choir a broken string
Groans with a strange furprize;
The reft in filence mourn their King
That bleeds, and loves, and dies.
Seraph and faint with drooping wings
Ceafe their harmonious breath:
No blooming trees nor bubbling fprings
While Jefus fleeps in death.

Then all at once to living strains

They fummon ev'ry chord;
Break up the tomb, and burst his chains,
And fhew their rifing Lord.
Around the flaming army throngs,
To guard him to the fkies,
With loud hofannas on their tongues,
And triumph in their eyes.

In awful state the conqu'ring God
Afcends his fhining throne,
While tuneful angels found abroad
The vict'ries he has won.

Now let me rife and join their fong,
And be an angel too:

My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you!

I would begin the mufic here,
And fo my foul should rife.
Oh for fome heav'nly notes, to bear
My fpirit to the skies!

There, ye that love my Saviour, fit
There I would fain have place
Among your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might fee his face.

I am confin'd to earth no more,
But mount in haste above,
To blefs the God that I adore,
And fing the Man I love.
Ma