Which opens with reflections suggested by the conclusion of the former. Peace among the nations recommended on the ground of their common fellowship in sorrow. Prodigies enumerated. Sicilian earthquakes. Man rendered obnoxious to these calamities by sin. God the agent in them. The philosophy that stops at secondary causes, reproved. Our own late miscarriages accounted for. Satirical notice taken of our trips to Fontainbleau. But the pulpit, not satire, the proper engine of reformation. The Reverend Advertiser of engraved sermons. Petit maitre parson. The good preacher. Picture of a theatrical clerical coxcomb. Story-tellers and jesters in the pulpit reproved. Apostrophe to popular applause. Retailers of ancient philosophy expostulated with. Sum of the whole matter. Effects of sacerdotal mismanagement on the laity. Their folly and extravagance. The mischiefs of profusion. Profusion itself, with all its consequent evils, ascribed, as to its principal cause, to the want of discipline in the Universities.




OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness 1,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war

Might never reach me more! My ear is pain'd,
My soul is sick with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill'd.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart,
It does not feel for man. The natural bond

Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax

That falls asunder at the touch of fire.

He finds his fellow guilty of a skin

Not colour'd like his own2, and having power
To inforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed,

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Oh that I had in the wilderness a lodging place, that I might leave my people and go from them.-Jeremiah, ix. 2.

* Not remembering that he is (as old Fuller says)" the image of God cut in ebony."

S. C.-9.


Make enemies of nations who had else
Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;
And worse than all, and most to be deplored
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat
With stripes, that mercy with a bleeding heart
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man? And what man seeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush
And hang his head, to think himself a man?
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's

Just estimation prized above all price,




I had much rather be myself the slave


And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.
We have no slaves at home.—Then why abroad?
And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave
That parts us, are emancipate and loosed.
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free,
They touch our country and their shackles fall.
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through every vein
Of all your empire! that where Britain's power
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. /\

Sure there is need of social intercourse,
Benevolence and peace and mutual aid



Between the nations, in a world that seems
To toll the death-bell of its own decease,
And by the voice of all its elements



To preach the general doom3. When were the winds
Let slip with such a warrant to destroy?
When did the waves so haughtily o'erleap
Their ancient barriers, deluging the dry?
Fire from beneath, and meteors from above
Portentous, unexampled, unexplained,

Have kindled beacons in the skies; and the old
And crazy earth has had her shaking fits
More frequent, and foregone her usual rest.
Is it a time to wrangle, when the props
And pillars of our planet seem to fail,
And Nature' with a dim and sickly eye
To wait the close of all? But grant her end
More distant, and that prophecy demands
A longer respite, unaccomplished yet;
Still they are frowning signals, and bespeak
Displeasure in his breast who smites the earth.
Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice.

3 Alluding to the late calamities at Jamaica. C.

* Cry havock, and let slip the dogs of war.

5 August 18, 1783. C.

Julius Cæsar, act iii.


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6 Is it a time to receive money, and to receive garments, &c.

2 Kings, v. 26.

Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth

Shakes, like a thing unfirm? Julius Cæsar. Act i.

7 Alluding to the fog that covered both Europe and Asia during the whole summer of 1783. C.

And 'tis but seemly, that where all deserve
And stand exposed by common peccancy

To what no few have felt, there should be peace,
And brethren in calamity should love.

Alas for Sicily! rude fragments now
Lie scatter'd where the shapely column stood.
Her palaces are dust. In all her streets
The voice of singing' and the sprightly chord
Are silent. Revelry and dance and show
Suffer a syncope and solemn pause,



While God performs upon the trembling stage
Of his own works, his dreadful part alone.

How does the earth receive him?-with what signs Of gratulation and delight, her king?


Pours she not all her choicest fruits abroad,
Her sweetest flowers, her aromatic gums,
Disclosing paradise where'er he treads?

She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb
Conceiving thunders, through a thousand deeps
And fiery caverns roars beneath his foot.

The hills move lightly 10 and the mountains smoke,

8 Where cattle pastured late, now scattered lies
With carcasses and arms, the ensanguined field
Par. Lost, xi. 659.

Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold.

Milton. Sonnet 18.


9 All the merry hearted do sigh. The mirth of tabrets ceaseth, the noise of them that rejoice endeth, the joy of the harp ceaseth. The city of confusion is broken down.

Isaiah, xxiv.

10 I beheld the mountains, and they trembled, and all the hills moved lightly.—Jeremiah, iv. 24.

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