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And forc'd to abandon what she bravely sought, Eradicate him, tear him from his hold
Upon th' endearments of domestic life
And social, nip his fruitfulness and use, Not often unsuccessful : pow'r usurp'd,
And doom him for perhaps a heedless word Is weakness when oppos'd ; conscious of wrong, To barrenness, and solitude, and tears, 'Tis pusillanimous and prone to flight.
Moves indignation, makes the name of king But slaves, that once conceive the glowing thought of king whom such prerogative can please) of freedom, in that hope itself possess
As dreadful as the Manichean god,
"Tis liberty alone, that gives the flow's The surest presage of the good they seek. of fleeting life its lustre and perfume ;
Then shame to manhood, and opprobrious more And we are weeds without it. All constraint, To France than all her losses and defeats,
Except what wisdom lays on evil men,
Is evil: hurts the faculties, impedes
Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit
With all thy loss of empire, and though squeez'd
Thee I account still happy, and the chief In forging chains for us, themselves were free. Among the nations, seeing thou art free, For he, who values Liberty, confines
My native nook of earth! Thy clime is rude, His zeal for her predominance within
Replete with vapors, and disposes much No narrow bounds; her cause engages him
All hearts to sadness, and none more than mine : Wherever pleaded. 'Tis the cause of man. , Thine unadulterate manners are less soft There dwell the most forlorn of human-kind, And plausible than social life requires, Immur'd, though unaccus'd, condemn'd untried, And thou hast need of discipline and art, Cruelly spar'd, and hopeless of escape.
To give thee what politer France receives There, like the visionary emblem seen
From nature's bounty--that humane address By him of Babylon, life stands a stump,
And sweetness, without which no pleasure is And, filleted about with hoops of brass,
In converse, either starv'd by cold reserve, Still lives, though all his pleasant boughs are gone. Or flush'd with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl. To count the hour-bell and expect no change ; Yet being free, I love thee: for the sake And ever, as the sullen sound is heard,
Of that one feature, can be well content,
Disgrac'd as thou hast been, poor as thou art,
But once enslav'd, farewell! I could endure
Chains nowhere patiently; and chains at home, To theatre, or jocund feast, or ball:
Where I am free by birthright, not at all. The wearied hireling finds it a release
Then what were left of roughness in the grain From labor; and the lover, who has chid
Of British natures, wanting its excuse Its long delay, feels ev'ry welcome stroke
That it belongs to freemen, would disgust Upon his heart-strings, trembling with delight And shock me. I should then with double pain To fly for refuge from distracting thought
Feel all the rigor of thy fickle clime; To such amusements, as ingenious woe
And, if I must bewail the blessing lost, Contrives, hard-shifting, and without her tools For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled, To read engraven on the mouldy walls,
I would at least bewail it under skies In stagg'ring types, his predecessor's tale,
Milder, among a people less austere; A sad memorial, and subjoin his own
In scenes, which having never known me free, To turn purveyor to an overgorg'd
Would not reproach me with the loss I felt. And bloated spider, till the pamper'd pest
Do I forbode impossible events, Is made familiar, watches his approach,
And tremble at vain dreams? Heav'n grant I may! Comes at his call, and serves him for a friend But th' age of virtuous politics is past, To wear out time in numb'ring to and fro
And we are deep in that of cold pretence. The studs, that thick emboss his iron door;
Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere, Then downward and then upward, then aslant, And we too wise to trust them. He that takes And then alternate; with a sickly hope
Deep in his soft credulity the stamp By dint of change to give his tasteless task
Design'd by loud declaimers on the part Some relish: till the sum, exactly found
Of liberty, themselves the slaves of lust, In all directions, he begins again.
Incurs derision for his easy faith, Oh comfortless existence! hemm'd around
And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough. With woes, which who that suffers would not kneel For when was public virtue to be found, And beg for exile, or the pangs of death ?
Where private was not? Can he love the whole, 'Chat man should thus encroach on fellow-man, Who loves no part? He be a nation's friend, Abridge him of his just and native rights,
Who is in truth the friend of no man there?
Can he be strenuous in his country's cause,
And confident assurance of the rest, Who slights the charities for whose dear sake Is liberty; a flight into his arms, That country, if at all, must be belov'd ?
Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way,
And full immunity from penal woe.
Stripes, and a dungeon; and his body serves
In silly dotage on created things,
And sordid gravitation of his pow'rs
Resistless from the centre he should seek,
Tend downward ; his ambition is to sink, Forbids their interference, looking on,
To reach a depth profounder still, and still Anticipate perforce some dire event;
Profounder, in the fathomless abyss And, seeing the old castle of the state,
Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death. That promis'd once more firmness, so assail'd, But ere he gain the comfortless repose That all its tempest-beaten turrets shake,
He seeks, and acquiescence of his soul Stand motionless expectants of its fall.
In Heav'n-renouncing exile, he enduresAll has its date below; the fatal hour
What does he not, from lusts oppos'd in vain, Was register'd in Heav'n ere time hegan.
And self-reproaching conscience? He foresees We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works The fatal issue to his health, fame, peace, Die too: the deep foundations that we lay, Fortune, and dignity; the loss of all, Time plows them up, and not a trace remains. That can ennoble man, and make frail life, We build with what we deem eternal rock : Short as it is, supportable. Still worse, A distant age asks where the fabric stood;
Far worse than all the plagues with which his sins And in the dust, sisted and search'd in vain, Infect his happiest moments, he forebodes The undiscoverable secret sleeps.
Ages of hopeless mis'ry. Future death, But there is yet a liberty unsung
And death still future. Not a hasty stroke, By poets, and by senators unprais'd,
Like that which sends him to the dusty grare; Which monarchs cannot grant, nor all the pow'rs But unrepealable enduring death. Of Earth and Hell confed'rate take away :
Scripture is still a trumpet to his fears : A liberty, which persecution, fraud,
What none can prove a forg'ry may be true; Oppression, prisons, have no pow'r to bind; What none but bad men wish exploded must. Which whoso tastes can be enslav'd no more. That scruple checks him. Riot is not loud "Tis liberty of heart deriv'd from Heav'n,
Nor drunk enough to drown it. In the midst Bought with his blood, who gave it to mankind, or laughter, his compunctions are sincere; And seald with the same token. It is held
And he abhors the jest, by which he shines. By charter, and that charter sanction'd sure
Remorse begets reform. His master-lust By th' unimpeachable and awful oath
Falls first before his resolute rebuke, And promise of a God. His other gifts
And seems dethron'd and vanquish'd Peace ensues All bear the royal stamp, that speaks them his, But spurious and short-liv'd; the puny child And are august; but this transcends them all. of self-congratulating Pride, begot His other works, the visible display
On fancied Innocence. Again he falls,
And fights again; but finds his best essay
Its own dishonor by a worse relapse.
Till Nature, unavailing Nature, foil'd And made so sparkling what was dark before. So oft, and wearied in the vain attempt, But these are not his glory. Man, 'tis true,
Scoffs at her own performance. Reason now Smit with the beauty of so sair a scene,
Takes part with appetite, and pleads the cause Might well suppose th' artificer divine
Perversely, which of late she so condemn'd: Meant it eternal, had he not himself
With shallow shifts and old devices, worn Pronounc'd it transient, glorious as it is,
And tatter'd in the service of debauch, And, still designing a more glorious far,
Cov'ring his shame from his offended sight. Doom'd it as insufficient for his praise.
"Hath God, indeed, giv'n appetites to man, These, therefore, are occasional, and pass ; * And stor'd the Earth so plenteously with means Form'd for the confutation of the fool,
To gratify the hunger of his wish;
So frail a kind, and then enacting laws
Dishonors God, and makes a slave of man. Large prelibation oft to saints below.
Do they themselves, who undertake for hire of these the first in order, and the pledge, The teacher's office, and dispense at large
T'heir weekly dole of edifying strains,
And for a time insure, to his lov'd land Attend to their own music? have they faith The sweets of liberty and equal laws; In what with such solemnity of tone
But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, And gesture they propound to our belief?
And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed Nay-conduct hath the loudest tongue. The voice In confirmation of the noblest claim, Is but an instrument, on which the priest
Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, May play what tune he pleases. In the deed, To walk with God, to be divinely free, The unequivocal, authentic deed,
To soar, and to anticipate the skies. We find sound argument, we read the heart." Yet few remember them. They liv'd unknown,
Such reas'nings (if that name must needs belong Till Persecution dragg‘d them into fame, T'' excuses in which reason has no part)
And chas'd them up 10 Heav'n. Their ashes flew Serve to compose a spirit well-inclin'd
-No marble tells us whither. With their names To live on terms of amity with vice.
No bard embalms and sanctifies his song : And sin without disturbance. Often urg'd,
And History, so warm on meaner themes, (As often as libidinous discourse
Is cold on this. She execrates, indeed, Exhausted, he resorts to solemn themes
The tyranny that doom'd them to the fire, Of theological and grave import,)
But gives the glorious suff'rers little praise. They gain at last his unreserv'd assent;
He is the freeman, whom the truth makes free Till, harden'd his heart's temper in the forge And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain, of lust, and on the anvil of despair,
That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm, He slights the strokes of conscience. Nothing moves, Can wind around him, but he casts it off, Or nothing much, his constancy in ill;
With as much ease as Samson his green withes. Vain temp'ring has but foster'd his disease ; He looks abroad into the varied field 'Tis desp'rate, and he sleeps the sleep of death. Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compar'd Haste now, philosopher, and set him free.
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Charm the deaf serpent wisely. Make him hear Calls the delightful scen'ry all his own. Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth
His are the mountains, and the valleys his, How lovely, and the moral sense how sure, And the resplendent rivers. His t'enjoy Consulted and obey'd, to guide his steps
With a propriety that none can feel, Directly to the FIRST AND ONLY FAIR.
| But who, with filial confidence inspir'd, Spare not in such a cause. Spend all the pow'rs Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye, Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise :
And smiling say—“My father made them all!" Be most sublimely good, verbosely grand,
Are they not his by a peculiar right, And with poetic trappings grace thy prose,
And by an emphasis of int'rest his, Till it outmantle all the pride of verse.
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Ah, tinkling cymbal, and high-sounding brass, Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind Smitten in vain! such music cannot charm
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love The eclipse, that intercepts truth's heav'nly beam, That plann'd, and built, and still upholds, a world And chills and darkens a wide-wand'ring soul. So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man? The stiLL SMALL VOICE is wanted. He must speak, Yes—ye may fill your garments, ye that reap Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect; | The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good Who calls for things that are not, and they come. In senseless riot; but ye will not find
Grace makes the slave a freeman. "Tis a change. In feast, or in the chase, in song or dance, That turns to ridicule the turgid speech
| A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd And stately tone of moralists, who boast,
Of usurpation, and io no man's wrong, As if, like him of fabulous renown.
Appropriates nature as his Father's work, They had, indeed, ability to smooth
And has a richer use of yours than you. The shag of savage nature, and were each
He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth An Orpheus, and omnipotent in song:
of no mean city; plann'd or ere the hills But transformation of a postate man
Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea From fool to wise, from earthly to divine,
With all his roaring multitude of waves. Is work for Him that made him. He alone,
His freedom is the same in ev'ry state; And he by means in philosophic eyes
And no condition of this changeful life, Trivial and worthy of disdain, achieves
So manifold in cares, whose ev'ry day The wonder; humanizing what is brute
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less : In the lost kind, extracting from the lips
For he has wings, that neither sickness, pain, of asps their venom, overpow'ring strength Nor penury, can cripple or confine. By weakness, and hostility by love.
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there Patriots have toild, and in their country's cause with ease, and is at large. Th'oppressor holds Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, His body bound; but knows not what a range Receive proud recompense. We give in charge | His spirit takes unconscious of a chain; Their names to the sweet lyre. Th' historic Muse, And that to bind him is a vain attempt, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. To latest times; and Sculpture, in her turn,
Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass
His works. Admitted once to his embrace, To guard them, and t' immortalize her trust : Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before. But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, Thine eye shall be instructed, and thine heart To those, who, posted at the shrine of Truth, Made pure shall relish with divine delight Have fallin in her defence. A patriot's blood, Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wroug! Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed, | Brutes graze the mountain-lop, with faces pror:
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb
In vain thy creatures testify of thee, It yields them; or, recumbent on its brow,
Till thou proclaim thyself. Theirs is indeed Ruminate heedless of the scene outspread
A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine, Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn, From inland regions to the distant main.
And with the boon gives talents for its use.
The uninform’d and heedless souls of men.
Then skilful most when most severely judg'd. Not for its own sake merely, but for his
But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'st : Much more, who fashion'd it, he gives it praise ; Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r Praise that from Earth resulting, as it ought, (If pow'r she be, that works but to confound) To Earth's acknowledg'd sovereign finds at once To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. Its only just proprietor in Him.
Yet thus we dote, refusing while we can The soul that sees him or receives sublim'd
Instruction, and inventing to ourselves New faculties, or learns at least t'employ
Gods such as guilt makes welcome; gods that sleep More worthily the pow'rs she own'd before, Or disregard our follies, or that sit Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaze Amus'd spectators of this bustling stage. of ignorance, till then she overlook'd,
Thee we reject, unable to abide A ray of heavenly light, gilding all forms
Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure, Terrestrial in the vast and the minute ;
Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause, The unambiguous footsteps of the God,
For which we shunnd and hated thee before. Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing,
Then we are free. Then liberty, like day, And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heav'n Much conversant with Heav'n, she often holds | Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. With those fair ministers of light to man,
A voice is heard, that mortal ears hear not, That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, Till thou hast touch'd them ; 'tis the voice of song Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were they A loud IIosanna sent from all thy works; With which Heav'n rang, when ev'ry star in haste Which he that hears it with a shout repeats, To gratulate the new-created Earth,
And adds his rapture to the gen'ral praise.
In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide
The author of her beauties, who, retir'd
Behind his own creation, works unseen If from your elevation, whence ye view
By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied. Distinctly scenes invisible to man,
Thou art the source and centre of all minds, And systems, of whose birth no tidings yet
Their only point of rest, eternal Word!
From thee is all, that soothes the life of man,
But 0 thou bounteous giver of all good,
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON.
Argument. And that, infus'd from Heav'n, must thither tend.” Bells at a distance. Their effect. A fine noon in
So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth winter. A sheltered walk. Meditation better Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious Word!
than books. Our familiarity with the course of Which whoso sees no longer wanders lost,
nature makes it appear less wonderful than it is. With intellects bemaz'd in endless doubt,
The transformation that Spring effects in a shrubBut runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built bery described. A mistake concerning the course With means, that were not till by thee employ'd, of nature corrected. God maintains it by an Worlds, that had never been hadst thou in strength unremitted act. The amusements fashionable at Been less, or less benevolent than strong.
this hour of the day reproved. Animals happy. They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow'r
a delightful sight. Origin of cruelty to animals And goodness infinite, but speak in ears
That it is a great crime, proved from Scripture That hear not, or receive not their report.
That proof illustrated by a tale. A line drawn between the lawful and unlawful destruction of And where the woods fence off the northern blast them. Their good and useful properties insisted The season smiles, resigning all its rage, on. Apology for the encomiums bestowed by the And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue author on animals. Instances of man's extrava- Without a cloud, and white without a speck gant praise of man. The groans of the creation The dazzling splendor of the scene below. shall have an end. A view taken of the restora- Again the harmony comes o'er the vale ; tion of all things. An invocation, and an invita- And through the trees I view th' embattled tow'r, tion of Him who shall bring it to pass. The Whence all the music. I again perceive retired man vindicated from the charge of use- The soothing influence of the wafted strains, lessness. Conclusion.
And settle in soft musings as I tread
The walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms, THERE is in souls a sympathy with sounds, Whose outspread branches over-arch the glade. And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleas'd The roof, though movable through all its length With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave; As the wind sways it, has yet well suffic'd, Some chord in unison with what we hear
And, intercepting in their silent fall Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. How soft the music of those village bells,
No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. Falling at intervals upon the ear
The red-breast warbles still, but is content In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Pleas'd with his solitude, and flitting light Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes With easy force it opens all the cells
From many a twig the pendent drops of ice,
Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft,
Charms more than silence. Meditation here Such comprehensive views the spirit takes, May think down hours to moments. Here the hear, That in a few short moments I retrace
May give a useful lesson to the head, As in a map the voyager his course)
And Learning wiser grow without his books. The windings of my way through many years. Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being one, Short as in retrospect the journey seems,
Have oft-times no connexion. Knowledge dwells It seem'd not always short; the rugged path, In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn,
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Mov'd many a sigh at its disheart'ning length. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, Yet feeling present evils, while the past
The mere materials with which Wisdom builds, Faintly impress the mind, or not at all,
Till smooth'd, and squard, and fitted to its place How readily we wish time spent revok'd,
Does but encumber whom it seems t'enrich.
Holds an unthinking multitude enthrall’d.
Surrender judgment hoodwink'd. Some the sty
Of error leads them, by a tune entranc'd. But had a blessing in its darkest frown,
While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear Threat'ning at once and nourishing the plant. The insupportable fatigue of thought; We lov’d, but not enough, the gentle hand, And swallowing therefore without pause or choice That rear'd us. At a thoughiless age, allur'd The total grist unsifted, husks and all. By ev'ry gilded folly, we renounc'd
But trees and rivulets, whose rapid course His shelt'ring side, and wilfully forewent
Defies the check of Winter, haunts of deer, That converse, which we now in vain regret, And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs, How gladly would the man recall to life
And lanes, in which the primrose ere her time The boy's neglected sire! a mother too,
Peeps through the moss, that clothes the hawthorn roo That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still, Deceive no student. Wisdom there, and truth, Might he demand them at the gates of death. Not shy, as in the world, and to be won Sorrow has, since they went, subdu'd and tam'd By slow solicitation, seize at once The playful humor; he could now i'ndure,
The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. (Himself grown sober in the vale of tear-,)
What prodigies can pow'r divine perform And feel a parent's presence no restraint.
More grand than it produces year by year,
And all in sight of inattentive man?
And in the constancy of nature's course,
And regular return of genial months,
And renovation of a faded world,
As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race
| An agency divine, to make him know