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God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then, that health and virtue, gifts That can alone make fweet the bitter draught That life holds out to all, should most abound, And leaft be threaten'd in the fields and groves? Poffefs ye therefore, ye who, borne about In chariots and fedans, know no fatigue But that of idleness, and tafte no scenes But fuch as art contrives, poffefs ye ftill Your element; there only ye can fhine; There only minds like yours can do harm. Our groves were planted to confole at noon The penfive wand'rer in their shades. The noon-beam, fliding foftly in between The fleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, Birds warbling all the mufic. We can spare The fplendor of your lamps, they but eclipfe Our fofter fatellite. Your fongs confound Our more harmonious notes. The thrush departs Scar'd, and th'offended nightingale is mute: There is a public mifchief in your mirth, It plagues your country. Folly fuch as yours, Grac'd with a word, and worthier of a fan, Has made, which enemies could ne'er have done, Our arch of empire, ftedfaft but for you, A mutilated structure foon to fall.
§ 147. The Want of Difcipline in the English Univerfities. COWPER.
IN colleges and halls in ancient days,
when learning, virtue, piety, and truth, Were precious and inculcated with care, There dwelt a fage call'd Difcipline Not yet by Time completely filver'd o'er, Bespoke him paft the bounds of freakish youth, But itong for fervice ftill, and unimpair'd. His eye was meek and gentle, and a mile Play'd on his lips, and in his fpeech was heard Paternal fweetnefs, dignity, and love. The occupation deareft to his heart Was to encourage goodnefs. He would stroke The head of modeft and ingenuous worth That bluth'd at its own praife, and prefs the youth [grew, Clofe to his fide that pleas'd him. Learning Beneath his care a thriving vigorous plant; The mind was well inform'd, the paitons held Subordinate, and diligence was choice. If e'er it chanc'd, as fometimes chance it muft, That one among fo many overleap'd The limits of controul, his gentle eye Grew ftern, and darted a fevere rebuke; His frown was full of terror, and his voice Shook the delinquent with fuch fits of awe, As left him not, till penitence had won Loft favour back again, and clos'd the breach. But Difcipline, a faithful fervant long, Declin'd at length into the vale of years: A palfy ftruck his arm, his fparkling eye Was quench'd in rheums of age, his voice un
Grew tremulous, and mov'd derision more
Their good old friend; and Difcipline at length,
The curbs invented for the muleifh mouth
Воок ІІ. But who with filial confidence inspir'd,
Of ignorance till then she overlook'd, Can lift to Heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, A ray of heav'nly light gilding all forms And finiling fay - My Father made them all : Terreftrial, in the vast and the minute, Are they not his by a peculiar right;
The unainbiguous footsteps of the God And by an einphalis of int'rest his,
Who gives its lusture to an insect's wing, Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. Whole heart with praise, and whose cxalted mind Much converfant with Heav'n fhe often holds With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love With those fair ministers of light to man, That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world, That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, So cloth’d with beauty, for rebellious man? Sweet conference; enquirci wliat strains were they Yes -- ye may fill your garners, ye that reap With which heav'n rang, when ev'ry star, in The loaded foil, and ye may waste much good To gratulate the new-crcated earth, (hafte In fenfelets riot; but ye will not find
Sent forth a voice, and all the tons of God In feast or in the chace, in fong or dance, Shouted for joy -" Tell me, ye shining hosts, A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd
“ That navigate a sea that knows no storms, Of ufurpation, and to no man's wrong,
“ Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud, Appropriates nature as his Father's work, “ If from your elevation, whence ye view And has a richer use of yours than you.
“ Distinctly scenes invisible to man, He is indeerli a freeman; free by birth
“ And systeins of whose birth no tidings yet Of no meau city, plann'd or cre the hills “ Have reach'd this nether world, ye spy a race Were built, thc fountains open'd, or the sea “ Favour'd as ours, transgressors from the womb, With all his roaring multitude of waves. " And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise, His freedom is the fame in ev'ry state,
“ And to poffefs a brighter heav'n than yours? And no condition of this changeful life, “ As one who, long detain’d on foreign shores So inanifold in cares, whose ev'ry day
“ Pants to return, and when he sees afar (rocks Brings its own evil with it, makes it'less : “ His country's weather-bleach'd and batter'd For he has wings that neither fickness, pain, “ From the green wave emerging, darts an eye Nor penury, can cripple or confine;
“ Radiant with joy towards the happy land; No nook fo narrow but he spreads them there “ So I with aniinated hopes behold, With ease, and is at large. Th'oppreffor holds" And many an aching wish, your beamy fires, His body bound, but knows nint what a range
“ That thew like beacons in the blue abyss, His fpirit takes, unconscious of a chain; “ Ordain'd to guide th'embodied spirit home And that to bind him is a vain artempe, - From toilfome life to never-ending reft. Whom God delights in, and in whoin hedwells. “Love kindles as I gaze. I fecl desires Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst tatte “ That give assurance of their own success, His works. Admitted once to his embrace, And that infus’d from hcav'n must thither Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind beforc;
“ tend." Thine eye shall be instructed, and thine heart, So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth Made pure, Thall relish with divine delight, Illuminates ; thy lamp, mysterious word ! Till then unfeh, what hands divine have wrought. Which whoso sees no longer wanders loft, Brutes graze the mountain-top with faces prone, With intellects bemaz’d, in endless doubt, Avd eyes intent upon the scanty herb
But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built, It yields them, or, recumbent on its brow, With means that were not till by thee employ'd, Ruininate hecdless of the scene outsprcad Worlds that had never been, hadft thou in strength Beneath, heyond, and stretching far away Been less, or less benevolent than strong. From ivland regions to the distant main. They are thy witneses, who speak thy pow's Man views it and admires, but reits content And goodness intinite, but speak in cars With what he views. The landscape has liis That hear not, or receive not their report. praife;
In vain thy crcatures tcftify of thee But noi its Author! Unconcern'd who form'd Till thou proclaim thyself. Theirs is indeed The paradise he sees, he finds it such,
A tcaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine, And tuch well pleas'd to find it, asks no more. That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn, Not fo themind that hasbeentouch'd from Heav'n, And svith the boon gives talents for its use. And in the school of sacred wisdom taught Till thou art hcard, imaginations vain To read his wonders, in whose thought the Poffefs the heart, and fables false as hell, Fair as it is, existed ere it was; (world, Yct dcem'd oracular, lure down to death Not for its own fake merely, but for his The uninform’d and hecdless fons of men. Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praise; We give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as Praise that, froin carth resulting as it ought,
blind, Toearth's acknowledgʻd Sovereign, finds at once The glory of thy work, which yet appears Its only just proprietor in Him.
Perfect and unimpeachable of blame, The foul that sees him, or rcccires sublim'd Challenging human fcrutiny, and prov'd New faculties, or learns at Icast, t'employ Then skilful most when most severely judg'd. More worthily the pow'rs the own'd before, But chance is not; or is not where thou reign't: Difcerns in all things, what with ttupid gaze Thy providence forbids that ficklc pow's
If pow'r fhe be that works but to confound)
He calls for famine,-and the meagre fiend
Till thou haft touch'd them :-'tis the voice of And did he not of old employ his means
A loud Hofanna fent from all thy works,
149. That Philofophy which stops at Secondary
HAPPY the man who fees a God employ'd
In all the good and ill that chequer life!
To drown it? What is his creation lefs
And learn, tho' late, the genuine cause of all.
§ 150. Rural Sounds as well as Sights delightful. COWPER.
NOR rural fights alone, but rural founds
Exhilarate the fpirit, and reftore
The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds,
Denies the pow'r that wields it. God proclaims § 151. The Wearifomeness of what is commonly
His hot difpleafure against foolish men
That live an atheift life; involves the heav'n
And putrify the breath of blooming health,
called a Life of Pleafure, CowPER.
HE fpleen is feldom felt where Flora reigns;
For such immeasurable woe appears ;
And let that pass-'twas but a trick of state. These Flora banishes, and gives the fair [own. A brave man knows no malice, but at once Swect finiles and bloom, leis transient than her Forgcts, in peace, the injuries of war, It is the constant revolution, ftale
And gives his direft foe a friend's embrace. And tastelels of the fame repeated joys,
And, tham'd as we have been, to the very beard That palls and fatiares, and makes languid life Trav'd and dety'd, and in our own sea prov'd A pedlar's pack, that bows the bearer down. Too weak for those decisive blows, that once Health lutfers, and the fpirits ebb; the heart Insur'd us inaft'ry there, we yet retain Recoils froin its own choice at the fuil feast Some small pre-eininence; we justly boast Is familli'd-inds no music in the song, At least fuperior jockeyship, and claim No Imartness in the jeft, and wonders why. The honors of the rurf as all our own. Yet thousands till detire to journey on, Go then, well worthy of the praise ve seek, Though halt and weary of the path they tread. And thew the lhame ye might conceal at home, The paralytic, who can hold her cards, In foreign eyes!—be grooms, and win the plate, But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand Where once your nobler fathers won a crown: To deal and thufile, to divide and sort Her mingled suits and fequences, and sits Speltatrets both and spectacle, a fad
§ 153. The Pulpit the Engine of Reformation. And silent cypher, while her proxy plays.
COWPER. Others are dragg'd into the crowded room Between Tupporters; and once fcated, fit, The pulpit therefore (and I name it, fillid Through downright inability to rise,
With folemn awe, that bids me well bcware Till the stout bearers lift the corple again.
With what intent I touch the holy thing) These speak a loud inciento. Yet even these
The pulpit (when the sat'rift has at last, Themselves love life, and cling to it, as he
Strutting and vap'ring in an empty school, That overhangs a torrent to a twig.
Spent all his force and made no profelyte) They love it, and yet loatii it; fear to die,
I lay the pulpit (in the sober ute
Of its legitimate peculiar pow'rs) stand, Yet icorn the purposes for which they live. Then wherefore not renounce thein Northe Must stand acknowledg’d, rwhile the world thali dread,
The most important and cffcctual guard, The Navish dread of solitude that breeds
Support, and ornament, of virtue's caule. Reflection and remorse, the fear of Thame,
There stands the messenger of truth; there stands And their invet'rate habits all forbid.
The legate of the skies : his theme divine,
His office sacred, his credentials clear.
Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet That dries his feathers, laturate with dew,
As angels ufe, the golpci w hispers peace. Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beanis
He stablishes the strong, restores the weak,
Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart, Of day-spring over shoot his humble neti.
And, arm'd himtelf in panoply complete
Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms
Bright as his own, and trains by ev'ry rule Whose head-achs nail them to a noon-day bed;
Of holy discipline, to glorious war,
The sacramental host of God's cleét.
§ 754. The Petit-Maitre Clergyman. Cowper. The mouth with blafphemy, the heart with woc.
Whofe hands are pure, whofe doctrinc and
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof [whole life § 152. Satirical Review of our Trips to France. That he is honcst in the sacred caufe.
To such I render more than mere respect,
Whost actions say that they refpect theinfelves. NOW hoift the fail, and let the
Arcamers Agat But loose in inorals, and in inanners vain,
Frequent in park, with lady at his side,
But rare at home, and never at his books That winds and waters, lull'd by magic sounds, Or with his pen, fave when he scrawls a card; May bear us smoothly to the Gallic thore. Constant at routs, familiar with a round Truc, we have lost an empire-Ict it pass. Of lady ships, a stranger to the poor; True, we may thank the perfidy of France, Ambitious of preferment for its gold, That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown, And well prepar'd by ignorance and cloth, With all the cunning of an envious ihrew. By infidelity and love o'th'world,
To make God's work a finecure: a slave Hearts pair'd in Hcaven, not meanly fold,
Still tread where virtue marks the way;
Whole fouls no thought, whose hands have $ 295. Verses written upon a Pedestal beneath a No decd which honour might not own; (known
Row of Elms in a Meadow near Richmond Who, torn with pain, or liung with care,
And, in life's brightest hour, can share
Each pang that wrings another heart!
To guard from harm these favour'd boughs; Sweet peace be theirs, and welcome free! Ye blue-cy'd Naiads of the stream,
Clear be the sky from clouds or thowers! That soothe the warm poetic dream;
Green be the curf, and fresh the flowers ! Ye elves and sprights, that thronging round, And that the youth, whose pious care When midnight darkens all the ground, Lays on your shrine this honest prayer, In antic measures uncontroul'd,
May, with the reft, admittance gain, Your fairy sports and revels hold,
And visit oft this pleasant scene, And up and down, where'er ve pass,
Let all who love the Muse attend : With many a ringlet print the grass;
Who loves the Muse is Virtue's friend! If e'er the bard hath haild your pow'r
Such then alonc may venture here, At morn's grey dawn, or evening hour;
Who, free from guilt, are free from fcar; If e'er by moon-light on the plain
Whole wide affctions can embrace Your ears have caught ch'enraptur'd strain ; The whole extent of human race; From every flow'ret's velvet head,
Whom Virtue and her friends approve; Froin reverend Thames's oozy bed,
Whom Cambridge and the Muses love. From these mols'd elms, where, prison'd deep, Conceal'd from human eyes, ye llecp, If these your haunts be worth your care, $ 156. The Recantation. An Ode. By the fame. Awakc, arise, and hear my prayer ! banish from this peaceful plain
BY Love too long depriv’d of rest
(Fell tyrant of the human breast!) The perjur'd nymph, the faithless Twain, His vassal long, and worn with pain, The Itubborn heart, that fcorns to bow,
Indignant late I spurn'd the chain ; And harsh rejects the honeft vow :
In verse, in prose, I sung and swore,
No charins ihould e'er enslave 'me more,
Again should force onc tender sigh.
As, taught by Heaven's inforining power, The light coquct, with various art, Who casts her net for ev'ry heart,
From ev'ry fruit and ev'ry flower,
That nature opens to the view,
The bee extracts the nectar-dew;
A vagrant thus, and free to change,
From fair to fair I vow'd to range,
And part from each without regret
As pleas'd and happy as I met.
Then freedom's praise infpir'd my tongue, Who hear unmov'd the orphan's cry,
With freedom's praise the vallies rung,
And every night, and every day
My cares are gone, my forroivs cease,
My breast regains its wonted peace, At others bliss whose check ne'er glows, “ And joy and hope returning prove, Whole breast ne'er throbs with others wocs, “ That Reason is too strong for Love." Whole hoarded sum of private joys
Such was my boaft—but ah! how vain! His private care alone destroys;
How short was Realon's vaunted reign! Ye fairies, cast your spells around,
The firm resolve I form'd erc-while, And guard froin such this hallow'd ground!
How weak, oppos'd to Clara's smile! But welcome all, who figh with truth, Chang'd is the strain-The vallies round Each contant maid and faithful youth,
With Freedom's praise no more resound; Whom mutual love alone bath join'd,
But ev'ry night and ev'ry day Sweet union of the willing mind!
My full heart pour'd the alter'd lay.