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XIII.

DESCRIPTION

O F A CATARACT.

HUS, up the mount, in airy vifion rapt,

THUS

Iftray, regardless whither; till the found

Of a near fall of water, every fenfe

Wakes from the charm of thought. Swift-shrinking back,
I check my steps, and view the broken scene.
SMOOTH, to the fhelving brink, a copious flood
Rolls fair and placid; where, collected all,
In one impetuous torrent, down the steep"

It thundering fhoots, and shakes the country round.
At first, an azure fheet, it rushes broad

;

Then, whit'ning by degrees, as prone it falls,
And, from the loud-refounding rocks below,
Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it fends aloft
A hoary mift, and forms a ceaseless shower.
Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose:
But, raging ftill amid the fhaggy rocks,
Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments; now,
Aflant the hollow'd channel, rapid, darts;
And, falling faft from gradual flope to flope,
With wild infracted courfe, and leffen'd roar,
It gains a fafer bed; and fteals, at laft,
Along the mazes of the quiet vale.

XIV.

THE COUNTRY

CLERGY MAN.

EAR yonder copfe, where, once, the garden fmil'd,

NE

And, ftill, where many a garden flower grows wild; There, where a few torn fhrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modeft manfion rofe.

A man he was, to all the country dear,
And paffing rich-with forty pounds a-year.
Remote from towns, he ran his godly race;

Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place:
Unpractis'd he, to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More fkill'd to raise the wretched, than to rife.
His houfe was known to all the vagrant train :
He chid their wand'rings; but reliev'd their pain,
The long remember'd beggar was his gueft,

Whofe beard, defcending, fwept his aged breast:
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claim allow'd :
The broken foldier, kindly bade to ftay,
Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away;

Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of forrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and fhew'd how fields were won.
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,
-And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their faults to fcan,

His pity gave, ere charity began.

THUS, to relieve the wretched was his pride; And ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's fide:

But,

But, in his duty prompt at every call,

He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all.
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt its 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 forrow, guilt, and pain, by turns difmay'd,
The reverend champion ftood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the ftruggling foul;
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise ;
And his laft falt'ring accents, whisper'd praise.

Ar church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double fway,
And fools, who came to fcoff, remain'd to pray.
The fervice paft, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honeft ruftic ran;
Even children follow'd, with endearing wile,

And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's fmile
His ready fmile a parent's warmth exprefs'd;
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares diftrefs'd.
To them, his heart, his love, his griefs were given;
But all his ferious thoughts had rest in heaven:
As fome tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and, mid-way, leaves the storm, Tho' round its breaft the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal funshine fettles on its head.

XV.

WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.

HE blifs of man (could pride that bleffing find)

THE

Is, not to act, or think, beyond mankind
No pow'rs of body, or of foul, to share,

But what his nature, and his state, can bear.
Why has not man a mircroscopic eye ?
For this plain reason, man is not a fly.
Say what th' ufe, were finer optics giv'n,
T' infpect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n?
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er,
To fmart and agonize at ev'ry pore?
Or quick effluvia darting thro' the brain,
Die of a rofe in aromatic pain?

If nature thunder'd in his op'ning ears,

And stunn'd him with the music of the fpheres,

How would he wish that Heav'n had left him ftill

The whifp'ring zephyr, and the purling rill?
Who finds not Providence all good and wife,
Alike, in what it gives, and what denies ?

FAR as creation's ample range extends,
The scale of fenfual, mental powers afcends.
Mark how it mounts, to man's imperial race,
From the green myriads in the peopled grass!
What modes of fight, betwixt each wide extreme,
The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam!
Of fmeil, the headlong lionefs between,
And hound fagacious on the tainted green !
Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood,
To that which warbles thro' the vernal wood!

The

The fpider's touch, how exquifitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
In the nice bee, what sense, so subtly true!
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew.:
How inftinct varies in the grov'ling swine,
Compar'd, half-reas'ning elephant, with thine!
"Twixt that and reason, what a nice barrier!
For ever fep'rate, yet for ever near.
Remembrance, and reflection, how ally'd!
What thin partitions fenfe from thought divide
And middle natures, how they long to join,
Yet never pass th' infuperable line!
Without this juft gradation, could they be
Subjected, these to thofe, or all to thee?
The pow'rs of all, fubdu'd by thee alone,
Is not thy reafon all these pow'rs in one?
WHAT, if the foot, ordain'd the duft to tread,
Or hand, to toil, afpir'd to be the head?
What, if the head, the eye, or ear, repin'd
To ferve mere engines to the ruling mind?
Juft as abfurd for any part to claim
To be another, in this gen'ral frame;
Juft as abfurd, to mourn the tasks or pains,
The
great directing mind of all ordains.

CEASE, then, nor order imperfection name;
Our proper blifs depends on what we blame.
Submit. In this, or any other sphere,

Secure to be as blefs'd as thou canft bear:
Safe in the hand of one difpofing pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.

ALL nature, is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not fee;

All

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