Puslapio vaizdai

Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp).
The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns.
The princely dome, the column and the arch,
The breathing marbles and the sculptur'd gold,
Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim,
His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the spring
Distils her dews, and from the filken gem
Its lucid leavés unfolds: for him, the hand
Of autumn tinges every fertile branch
With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn.
Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings;
And still new beauties meet his lonely walk,
And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes
The setting fun's effulgence, not a strain
From all the tenants of the warbling shade
Ascends, but whence his bofom can partake
Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd. Nor thence partakes
Fresh pleasure only : for th' attentive mind,
By this harmonious action on her pow'rs;
Becomes herself harmonious : wont so oft
In outward things to meditate the charm
Of sacred order, soon the seeks at home
To find a kindred order, to exert
Within herself this elegance of love,
This fair-inspir'd delight : her temper'd pow'rs
Refine at length, and every passion wears
A chaster, milder, more attractive mien.
But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze
On nature's form where, negligent of all
These lesser graces, the assumes the port
Of that eternal majesty that weigh'd
The world's foundations, if to these the mind
Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far
Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms
Of servile custom cramp her gen'rous pow'rs?
Would sordid policies, the barb'rous growth
Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down
To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear?
Lo! she appeals to nature, to the winds
And rowling waves, the sun's unwearied course,
The elements and seasons : all declare
For what th' eternal Maker has ordain'd
The pow'rs of man: we feel within ourselves



His energy divine: he tells the heart,
He meant, he made us to behold and love
What he beholds and loves, the general orb
Of life and being ; to be great like him,
Beneficent and active. Thus the men
Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself
Hold converse : grow familiar, day by day,
With his conceptions, act upon bis plan;
And form to his, the relish of their souls.


[A K Enside.]
AY, why was man fo eminently rais'd

Amid the vast creation; why ordain'd
Thro? life and death to d'art his piercing eye,
With thoughts beyond the limit

of his frame; But that th' Omnipotent might send him forth In fight of mortal and immortal pow'rs, As on a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice; to exalt His gen'rous aim to all diviner deeds To chafe each partial purpose from his breast ; And thro' the mifts of passion and of fense, And thro' the toffing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfalt'ring, while the voice Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent Of nature, calls him to his high reward, Th' applauding smile of heav'n? Elfe wherefore burns In mortal borom this unquenched hope, That breathes from day to day sublimer things, And mocks poffeffion? Wherefore darts the mind, With such reliftless ardour to embrace Majestic forms: impatient to be free, Spurning the gross controul of wilful mights. Proud of the strong contention of her toils; Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns To heav'n's broad fire his unconstrained view, Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame? Who that, from Alpine heights, his lab'ring eye. Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey Nilus or Ganges rowling his bright wave Thro' mountains, plains, thro' emp:res black with shade And continents of fand will turn his gaze


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To mark the windings of a scanty rill
That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul
Disdains to rest her heav'n-aspiring wing
Beneath its native quarry. Tird of earth
And this diurnal scene, the springs aloft
Thro' fields of air ; pursues the flying storm;
Rides on the volley'd light’ning thro' the heav'ns ;
Or yok'd with whirlwinds and the northern blast,
Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars

The blue profound, and hovering round the sun
Beholds him pouring the redundant stream
Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway
Bend the reluctant planets to absolve
The fated rounds of time. Thence far effus'd
She darts her swiftness up the long career
Of devious comets, thro’its burning signs
Exulting measures the perennial wheel
Of nature, and looks back on all the stars,
Whose blended light, as with a milky zone,
Invests the orient. Now amaz’d The views
Th' empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold,
Beyond this concave heav'n, their calm abode;
And fields of radiance, whose unfading light
Has travellid the profound fix thousand years,
Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things.
Ev'n on the barriers of the world untir'd
She meditates th' eternal depth below;
Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep
She plunges; soon o'erwhelm’d and swallow'd up
In that immenfe of being. There her hopes
Rest at the fated gaol. For from the birth
Of mortal man, the sovereign Maker said,
That not in humble nor in brief delight,
Not in the fading echoes of renown,
Pow'r's purple robes, nor pleasure's How'ry lap,
The soul should find enjoyment: but from these
Turning disdainful to an equal good,
Throail th’ascent of things enlarge her view,
Till every bound at length 1hould disappear,
And infinite perfection close the scene.


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[A KEN SIDE.] ALL now to mind what high capacious pow'rs

Of na

The praise of mortals, may th' eternal growth

to perfection half divine, Expand the blooming foul. What pity then Should floth's unkindly fogs depress to earth Her tender blossom; choak the streams of life, And blast her spring! Far otherwise defign'd Almighty wisdom; nature's happy cares Th’ obedient heart far otherwise incline. Witness the sprighly joy when aught unknown Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each_active pow's To brisker measures : witness the neglect Of all familiar prospects, tho' beheld With transport once; the fond attentive gaze Of young astonishment; the fober zeal Of age, commenting on prodigious things. For luch the bounteous providence of heav'n, In every breast implanting this defire Of objects new and strange, to urge us on With unremitted labour to pursue Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul, In truth's exhaustless bofom. What need words To paint its pow'r ? For this, the daring youth Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, In foreign climes to rove; the penfive fage Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untir'd The virgin follows, with enchanted step, The mazes of some wild and wond'rous tale, From morn to eve; unmindful of her form, Unmindful of the happy dress that stole The wishes of the youth, when every maid With envy pin’d. Hence finally by night The village-matron, round the blazing hearth, Suspends the infant-audience with her tales, Breathing astonishment of witching rhimes, And evil spirits ; of the death-bed call Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd The orphan's portion ; of unquiet souls

Ris'n from the grave to ease the heavy guilt
Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk
At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave
The torch of hell around the murd'rer's bed.
At ev'ry folemn pause the croud recoil
Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd
With thiv'ring fighs: till eager for th' event,
Around the beldame all erect they hang,
Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quellid.


The PAIN arising from VIRTUOUS EMOTIONS, attended with PLEASURE. (AKENSIDE.]

EHOLD the ways

Of heav'n's eternal destiny to man,
For ever just, benevolent and wise :
That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursu'd
By vexing fortune and intrusive Pain,
Should never be divided from her chaste,
Her fair attendant, PLEASURE: Need I urge
Thy tardy thought through all the various round
Of this existence, that thy soft'ning soul.
At length may learn what energy the hand
Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide
Of paffion swelling with distress and pain,
To mitigate the tharp with gracious drops
Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth,
While the cold urn of her whom long he lov'd
So often fills his arms; fo often draws
His lonely footsteps at the filent hour,

the mournful tribute of his tears ?
O ! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds
Should ne'er feduce his bosom to forego
That facred hour, when stealing from the noise
Of care and envy, sweet remembrance foothes
With virtue's kindeft looks his aching breast,
And turns his tears to rapture?-Alk the crowd
Which Aies impatient from the village-walk
To climb the neighb'ring cliffs, when far below
The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast
Some helpless bark; while sacred pity melts
The gen'ral eye, or terror's icy hand
Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair ;
While every mother closer to her breast


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