63

ELEGANT EXTRACTS,

Three days, the infernal empire to fubdue,
Me pafs'd triumphant through the coafts of woe;
With his own dart the tyrant Death he flew,
And led Hell captive through her realms below.
A mingled found from Calvary I hear,
And the loud tumult thickens on my ear,
The fhouts of murd'rers, that infult the flain,
The voice of torment, and the fhrieks of pain.
I caft my eyes with horror up
To the curft mountain's guilty top;
See there! whom hanging in the midst I view
Ah! how unlike the other two!
I fee him high above his foes,
And gently bending from the wood
His head in pity down to those
Whofe guilt confpires to fhed his blood.
His wide-extended arms I fee

!

Transfix'd with nails, and fasten'd to the tree:
Man, fenfeless man! canft thou look on,
Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own?
The
rage of all thy grief exert,

Rend thy garments and thy heart:
Beat thy breaft, and grovel low,
Beneath the burden of thy woe;

Bleed through thy bowels, tear thy hairs,
Breathe gales of fighs, and weep a flood of tears.
Behold thy King, with purple cover'd round;
Not in the Tyrian tinctures dyed,
Nor dipt in poifon of Sidonian pride;
But in his own rich blood that ftreams from
every wound.

Doft thou not fee the thorny circled red?
The guilty wreath that blushes round his head!
And with what rage the bloody fcourge applied
Curls round his limbs, and ploughs into his fide.
At fuch a fight let all thy anguifh rife;
Break up, break up the fountains of thy eyes.
Here bid thy tears in gushing torrents now,
Indulge thy grief, and give a loose to woe.
Weep from thy foul, till earth be drown'd;
Weep, till thy forrows drench the ground.
Canft thou, ungrateful man! his torments fee,
Nor drop a tear for him, who pours his blood

for thee?

§ 94. A Funeral Hymn. Mallet.
YE midnight fhades, o'er nature fpread!
Dumb filence of the dreary hour!
In honour of th' approaching dead,
Around your awful terrors pour.
Yes, pour around
On this pale ground

Through all this deep furrounding gloom,
The fober thought,
The tear untaught,
Those meetest mourners at a tomb.
Lo! as the furplic'd train drew near
To this laft manfion of mankind,
The flow fad bell, the fable bier,
In holy mufing wrapt the mind!
And while their beam,
With trembling fream,

Attending tapers faintly dart;
Each mould'ring bone,
Each fculptur'd ftone,

Boox 1

Strikes mute inftruction to the heart!
Now let the facred organ blow,
With folemn paufe, and founding flow;
Now let the voice due measure keep,

In ftrains that figh, and words that weep;
Till all the vocal current blended roll,
Not to deprefs, but lift the foaring foul:
To lift it in the Maker's praise,

Who first inform'd our frame with breat
And, after fome few stormy days,
Now, gracious, gives us o'er to death.
No King of Fears

In him appears,

Who fhuts the fcene of human woes.
Beneath his fhade

Securely laid,

The dead alone find true repose.

Then, while we mingle duft with duft,
To One, fupremely good and wife,
Raife hallelujahs! God is juft,

And man most happy when he dies!
His winter paft,
Fair Spring at laft

Receives him on her flow'ry fhore!
Where pleasure's rofe
Immortal blows,

And fin and forrow are no more!

§ 95. Veni Creator Spiritus, paraphrased.
Dryden,

The world's foundations firft were laid,
CREATOR Spirit, by whofe aid
Come vifit ev'ry pious mind;
From fin and forrow fet us free,
Come pour thy joys on human kind.
And make thy temples worthy thee.
O fource of uncreated light,
The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love infpire;
Come, and thy facred unction bring
To fanctify us, while we fing.

Plenteous of grace, defcend from high,
Rich in thy fevenfold energy!

Thou ftrength of his Almighty hand,
Whofe pow'r does heaven and earth comma
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,

Who doft the gift of tongues difpenfe,
And crown thy gift with eloquence!

Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice controul,
Submit the fenfes to the foul;

And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
Chafe from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow,
And, left our feet thould step aftray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

Left lurking Folly, with infidious art,
Regain my volatile inconftant heart!
Shall every high refolve Devotion frames
Be only lifelefs founds and fpecious names?
Oh rather, while thy hopes and fears controul,
In this still hour, each motion of my foul,
Secures its fafety by a fudden doom,
And be the foft retreat of fleep my tomb!
Calm let me flumber in that dark repose,
Till the last morn its orient beam disclose:
Then, when the great archangel's potent found
Shall echo thro' creation's ample round,
Wak'd from the fleep of death, with joy furvey
The opening splendours of eternal day,

§ 96. On True Notality. Dryden's Juvenal.

NOBILITY of blood

Is but a glittering and fallacious good.
The Nobleman is he, whofe noble mind [kind.
Is filled with inbred worth, unborrow'd from his
Virtue alone is true nobility:

Let your own acts immortalize your name,

'Tis poor relying on another's fame :

For take the pillars but away, and all

The fupertructure mult in ruins fall;
As a vine droops, when by divorce remov'd
From the embraces of the elm the lov’d.

97. A Night Piece. Mifs Carter.
WELLE night in folemn fhade invefts the pole,
And can reflection fooths the penfive foul,
While reafon undisturb'd afferts her fway,
And life's deceitful colours fade away;
To thee! all-conscious Prefence! I devote
This peaceful interval of fober thought:
Here all my better faculties confine;
And be this hour of facred filence thine!

If, by the day's illufive fcenes mifled,
My erring foul from virtue's path has ftray'd;
Saar'd by example, or by paffion warm'd,
Some faife delight my giddy fenfe has charm'd;
Mycalmerthoughtsthe wretched choice reprove,
And my best hopes are center'd in thy love.
Deprived of this can life one joy afford?
Its utmost boat a vain unmeaning word,
But, ah! how oft my lawless paffions rove,
And break thofe awful precepts I approve!
Purtue the fatal impulfe I abhor,

And violate the virtue I adore !
Oft when thy better Spirit's guardian care
Wara'd myfond foul tofhun the tempting fnare,
My tubborn will his gentle aid reprefs'd,
And check'd the rifing goodness in my breaft;
Mad with rain hopes, or urg'd by false defires,
Sti'd his foft voice, and quench'd hisfacredfires.
With grief opprefs'd,and proftrate in the duft,
Shouldft thou condemn, I own thy fentence just.
But, oh! thy fofter titles let me claim,
And picad my caufe by Mercy's gentle name.
Mercy that wipes the penitential tear,
And dipates the horrors of despair;
From righteous juftice steals the vengeful hour,
Softens the dreadful attribute of pow'r,
Difarms the wrath of an offended God,
And feals my pardon in a Saviour's blood!
All powerful Grace, exert thy gentle fway,
And teach my rebel paffions to obey;

$98. Ode to Melancholy. Carter.
COME, Melancholy! filent pow'r,
Companion of my lonely hour,

To fober thought confin'd !
Thou fweetly fad ideal guest,
In all thy foothing charms confeft,
Indulge my penfive mind.

No longer wildly hurried through
The tides of mirth, that ebb and flow
In folly's noify stream,
I from the bufy crowd retire,
To court the objects that inspire
Thy philofophic dream."

Thro' yon dark grove of mournful yewo
With folitary fteps I mufe,
By thy direction led:

Here, cold to pleasures tempting forms
Confociate with my fifter worms,
ye midnight horrors, awful gloom!
And mingle with the dead.
Ye filent regions of the tomb,
Here fhall my weary eyes be clos'd,
My future peaceful bed;
And ev'ry forrow lie repos'd

In death's refreshing shade.
Ye pale inhabitants of night,
Before my intellectual fight

In folemn pomp ascend:
O tell how trifling now appears
The train of idle hopes and fears,
That varying life attend!
Ye faithlefs idols of our sense,
Here own how vain the fond pretence,

Ye empty names of joy!
Your tranfient forms like thadows pafs,
Frail offspring of the magic glass,

Before the mental eye.

The dazzling colours, falfely bright,
Attract the gazing vulgar fight
With fuperficial state:
How ftripp'd of all its pomp, how rude
Thro' reafon's clearer optics view'd,
Appears the painted cheat!
Can wild ambition's tyrant pow'r,
Or ill got wealth's fuperfluous ftore
The dread of death controul?
F 3

Caa

§ 99. Written at Midnight in a Thunder
Storm. Carter.

LET Coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,
To fhelt'ring caverns fly,
And justly dread the vengeful fate

That thunders through the sky.
Protected by that hand, whofe law
The threat'ning storms obey,
Intrepid virtue fmiles fecure,
As in the blaze of day.

In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom,
The lightning's lurid glare,
It views the fame all-gracious Pow'r
That breathes the vernal air.
Thro' Nature's ever-varying scene,
By different ways purfued,
The one eternal end of Heav'n
Is univerfal good:

With like beneficent effect

O'er flaming æther glows,
As when it tunes the linnet's voice,
Or blushes in the rofe.

By reafon taught to fcorn thofe fears
That vulgar minds molest.
Let no fantaftic terrors break
My dear Narcissa's reft.

Yet fill one gen'ral cry the skies affails,
And gun and grandeur load the tainted gales;
Few know the toiling fateiman's fear or care,
Ta' infidious rival and the gaping heir.

Once more, Deinocritus, arile on earth,
With cheerful witdom and inftructive mirth,
See motley life in modern trappings dreit,
And feed with varied fools th' eternal jeft :
Thou who could't laugh where want enchain'd
caprice,

Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows,
His fmile alone fecurity beltows:

Still to new heights his reftlefs withes tow'r;
Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow't;
Till conqueft unrefifted ceas'd to pleafe,
And rights fubmitted left him none to seize.
At length his fovereign frowns-the train of itate
Mark the keen glance, and watch the fign to hate.
Where'er he turns he meets a stranger's eye,
His fuppliants fcorn him, and his followers fly:
Now drops at once the pride of awful itate,
The golden canopy, the glitt ring plate,
The liv'ried army, and the menial lord.
The regal palace, the luxurious board,
He feeks the refuge of monaftic reft.
With age, with cares, with maladies oppreft,
Grief aids difeafe, remember'd folly stings,
And his laft fighs reproach the faith of kings.
Speak thou, whofe thoughts at humble peace
repine,

Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece;
Where wealth anlov'd without a mourner died;
And icarce a tycophant was fed by pride;
Where ne er was known the form of mock debate,
Or feen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state;
Where change of fav'ritesmade nochangeoflaws,
And fenates heard before they judg'd a caufe;
How wouldst thou fhake at Britain's modifh tribe,
Dart the quick taunt and edge the piercing gibe?
Attentive, truth and nature to delcry,
And pierce each scene with philofophic eye,
To thee were folemn toys or empty fhow,
The robes of pleature and the veils of woe:
All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain,
Whote jays are caulelefs, or whofe griefs are vain.
Such was the fcorn that fill'd the fage's mind,
Renew'd at every glance on human kind;
How just that com ere yet thy voice declare,
Search every fate, and canvaís ev'ry pray'r.
↑ Unnumber'd fuppliants crowd Preferment's

Shall Wolfey's wealthwith Wolfey's end be thine?
Or liv'st thou now, with fafer pride content,
The wisest justice on the banks of Trent!
For why did Wolfey, near the fteeps of fate,
On weak foundations raife th' enormous weight?
Why but to fink, beneath misfortune's blow,
With louder ruin to the gulphs below?

What gave great Villiers to th' aflaffin's knife,
And fix'd difeafe on Harley's closing life?
What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd

gate,

A thirst for wealth, and burning to be great;
Delufive Fortune hears th' inceffant call,
They mount, they thine, evaporate, and fall.
On ev'ry itage the foes of peace attend,
Hate dogs their fight, and infult mocks their end.
Love ends with hope,the finking ftatefman's door
Pours in the morning worshipper no more;
For growing names the weekly fcribbler lies,
To growing wealth the dedicator flies;
From ev'ry room defcends the painted face,.
That hung the bright palladium of the place,
And imok'd in kitchens, or in auctions fold,
To better features yields the frame of gold;
For now no more we trace in ev'ry line
Heroic worth, benevolence divine:
The form diforted juftifies the fall,
And detection rids th' indignant wall.
But will not Britain hear the last appeal,
Sign her foes doom, or guard her fav rites zeal?
Thro Freedomsions no more remonftrance rings,
Degrading nobles and controuling kings;
Our fupple tribes reprefs their patriot throats,
And a no queftions but the price of votes,
With weekly libels and feptennial ale,
Their with is full to riot and to rail.

If bloom dignity, fee Wolfey ftand,
Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand:
To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs con-
Thro has the rays of regal bounty thine; [fign,

Hyde,

By kings protected, and to king's ally'd?
What but their with indulg'd in courts to shine,
And pow'r too great to keep, or to resign?

When firft the college rolls receive his name,
The young enthufiaft quits his ease for fame;
Refiftlefs burns the fever of renown,
Caught from the strong contagion of the gown:
O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread,
And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head.
Are thefe thy views? proceed, illuftrious youth,
And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth!
Yet fhould thy foul indulge the gen'rous heat,
Till captive Science yields her last retreat;
Should Reafon guide thee with her brightest ray,
And pour on mifty Doubt resistless day:
Should no false kindness lure to loose delight,
Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright;
Should
cell refrain,
And Sloth effufe her opiate fumes in vain;
Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart,
Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart;
Should no Difeafe thy torpid veins invade,
Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy fhade;
Yet hope not life from grief or danger free,
Nor think the doom of man revers`d for thee :
Deign on the paffing world to turn thine eyes,
And paufe a while from learning, to be wife:
There mark what ills the fcholar's life affail,
Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail."

Ver. 114-132.

Ver. 23-27.

+ Ver. 28-55. ↑ Ver. 56--107. § Ver. 108-113.

There is a tradition, that the study of friar Bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when Aman greater than Bacon shall pass under it.