No sense have they of Ills to come,
No care beyond to-day.
Yet see how all around them wait,
The MINISTERS of human Fate,
And black MISFORTUNE'S baleful TRAIN!
Ah, show them where in ambush stand,
To seize their PREY, the murderous BAND!
Ah, tell them they are Men.
These shall the fury PASSIONS tear,
The Vultures of the Mind,
Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
And Shame that skulks behind;
Or pining Love shall waste their Youth;
Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And Envy wan, and faded Care,
Grim-visaged, comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.
AMBITION this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the Wretch from high,
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
And grinning Infamy.
The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
And hard Unkindness' altered eye,
That mocks the tear it forced to flow;
And keen Remorse with blood defiled,
And moody Madness laughing wild,
Amid severest Woe.
To each his sufferings. All are Men,
Condemned alike to groan,—
The tender, for another's pain;
The unfeeling, for his own.
Yet, ah! why should they know their Fate?
Since Sorrow never comes too late,
And Happiness too swiftly flies,
Thought would destroy their Paradise.
No more; where Ignorance is bliss
'Tis Folly to be wise.
Hence! Avaunt! 'tis holy ground!
COMUS and his midnight crew,
And IGNORANCE with looks profound,
And dreaming SLOTH of pallid hue,
Mad SEDITION's cry profane,
SERVITUDE that hugs her chain,
Nor in these consecrated Bowers
Let painted FLATTERY hide her Serpent Train in Flowers. Nor ENVY base, nor creeping GAIN,
Dare the MUSES' WALK to stain,
While bright-eyed SCIENCE watches round;
Hence! Away! 'Tis holy Ground!
From yonder Realms of empyrean Day
Bursts on my ear th' indignant Lay;
There sit the sainted SAGE, the BARD divine,
The FEW whom GENIUS gave to shine,
Through every unborn Age, and undiscovered Clime.
'Twas MILTON struck the deep-toned shell,
And as the choral warblings round him swell,
Meek NEWTON's self bends from his state sublime,
And nods his hoary head, and listens to the Rhyme.
ON THE MEMORY OF MRS. CATHARINE THOMSON.
When FAITH and Love, which parted from thee never,
Had ripened thy just Soul to dwell with GOD,
Meekly thou didst resign this Earthly load
Of Death, called Life; which us from Life doth sever.
Thy Works and Alms, and all thy good endeavour,
Stay'd not behind, nor in the Grave were trod;
But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod,
Followed thee up to Joy and Bliss for ever.
Love led them on, and Faith, who knew them best,
Thy Handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest,
And spake the Truth of thee in glorious Themes,
Before the Judge, who henceforth bade thee rest,
And drink thy fill of pure immortal Streams.
TRUE FAME-BY THE SAME.
FAME is the spur that the clear Spirit doth raise,
That last Infirmity of noble Mind,
To scorn Delights, and live laborious days:
But the fair Guerdon, when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,
And slits the thin-spun Life. "But not the praise,"
Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears;
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering Foil
Set off to the World; nor in broad Rumour lies,
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfect Witness of all-judging Jove;
As He pronounces lastly on each Deed,
Of so much Fame, in Heaven expect thy Meed.
TRUE PATRIOTIC WORTH.-CowPER.
Oh! bright occasions of dispensing Good,
How seldom used, how little understood!
To pour in VIRTUE's lap her just reward;
Keep VICE restrained behind a double guard;
To quell the Faction that affronts the throne,
By silent Magnanimity alone;
To nurse with tender care the thriving Arts;
Watch every beam Philosophy imparts;
To give Religion her unbridled scope,
Nor judge by Statute a Believer's hope;
With close Fidelity, and Love unfeigned,
To keep the Matrimonial bond unstained.
-To touch the sword with conscientious awe,
Nor draw it but when Duty bids him draw;
-To sheathe it in the Peace-restoring close;
With Joy beyond what Victory bestows;-
Blest Country, where these kingly glories shine!
Blest England, if this Happiness be thine!
RIVALRY.-THE SAME.
How bright soe'er the Prospect seems,
All thoughts of Friendship are but Dreams,
If ENVY chance to creep in;
An envious Man, if you succeed,
May prove a dangerous Foe indeed,
But not a Friend worth keeping.
As Envy pines at Good possest,
So Jealousy looks forth distrest
On Good that seems approaching;
And if success his steps attend,
Discerns a Rival in a Friend,
And hates him for encroaching.
Hence Authors of illustrious Name,
Unless belied by common Fame,
Are sadly prone to quarrel,-
To deem the Wit a Friend displays,
A Tax upon their own just Praise,
And pluck each other's Laurel.
APPEARANCES FALLACIOUS.-SHAKESPEARE.
THE WORLD is still deceived with Ornament.
In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being seasoned with a gracious Voice,
Obscures the show of Evil? In Religion,
What damned Error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a Text,
Hiding the grossness with fair Ornament?
There is no Vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of Virtue on its outward parts.
How many Cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk?
And these assume but Valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted.
HONOUR MUST BE ACTIVE-SHAKESPEARE.
TIME hath, my Lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts Alms for Oblivion:
A great-sized Monster of Ingratitudes :
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devoured
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: PERSEVERANCE, dear my Lord,
Keeps Honour bright; to have done, is to hang
Quite out of Fashion, as a rusty mail,
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
|