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Rude earth-bred storms o'er meaner valleys blow, 375
And wandering mists roll, blackening, far below;
Dark, and debas'd, like them, is Envy's aim,
And clear, and eminent, like Truth, thy fame.
Thus I. From what dire cause can envy spring ?
Or why embofom we a viper's sting?
'Tis Envy stings our darling passion, pride.
Alas! (the man of mighty soul replied)
Why chuse we miseries ? Molt derive their birth
From one bad source-we dread superior worth ;
Prefer'd, it seems a fatire on our own;
Then heedless to excel we meanly moan:
Then we abstract our views, and Envy show,
Whence springs the misery, pride is doom'd to know.
Thus folly pain creates: By wisdom's power,
We fun the weight of many a restless hour 390
Lo! I meet wrong; perhaps the wrong I feel
Tends, by the scheme of things, to public weal.
I, of the whole, am part-the joy men see,
Mult circulate, and so revolve to me.
Why should I then of private lofs complain ? 39-5
Of loss, that proves, perchance, a brother's gain ?
The wind, that binds one bark within the bay,
May waft a richer freight its widi’d-for way.
If rains redundant flood the abject ground,
Mountains are but supplied, when vales are drown'd; 400
If, with soft moisture swell'd, the vale looks gay,
The verdure of the mountain fades away.
Shall clouds but at my welfare's call descend?
Shall gravity for ine her laws suspend ?
For me shall suns their noon-tide course forbear? 405
Or motion not fubfist to influence air ?
Let the means vary, he they frost, or flame,
Thy end, o Nature ! still remains the same!
Be this the motive of a wise man's care,-
To thun deserving ills, and learn to bear. 410
HILE thus a mind humane, and wise, he Mows,
All eloquent of truth his language flows. Youth, though depress'd, through all his form appears; Through all his sentiments the depth of years. Thus he-Yet farther Industry behold,
5 Which conscious waits new wonders to unfold. Enter my chapel next-Lo! here begin The hallow'd rites, that check the growth of sin. When first we met, how soon you seem’d to know My bosom, labouring with the throbs of woe !
10 Such racking throbs!-Soft! when I rouse those cares, On my chillid mind pale Recollection glares ! When moping Frenzy ítrove my thoughts to sway, Here prudent labours chac'd her power away. Full, and rough-rising from yon sculptur'd wall, 15 Bold prophets nations to repentance call!; Meek martyrs smile in flames! gor'd champions groan ! And muse-like cherubs tune their harps in stone!
Next shadow'd light a rounding force bestows,
Swells into life, and speaking action grows!
Here pleasing, melancholy subjects find,
To calm, amuse, exalt the pensive mind!
This figure tender grief, like mine, implies,
And semblant thoughts, that earthly ponip despise.
Such penitential Magdalene reveals;
Loose-veil'd, in negligence of charms she kneels.
Though dress, near-stor’d, its vanity supplies,
The vanity of dress unheeded lies.
The sinful world in sorrowing eye she keeps,
As o'er Jerusalem Messiah weeps.
One hand her bosom (mites; in one appears
The lifted lawn, that drinks her falling tears.
Since evil outweighs good, and fways mankind,
True fortitude assumes the patient mind :
Such prov'd Messiah's, though to suffering born, 35
To penury, repulse, reproach, and scorn.
Here, by the pencil, mark his flight design’d;
The weary'd virgin by a stream reclin'd,
Who feeds the child. Her looks a charm express,
A modest charm, that dignifies distress.
Boughs o'er their heads with blushing fruits depend,
Which angels to her busied confort bend.
Hence by the smiling infant seems discern’d,
Trifles, concerning Him, all heaven.concern'd.
Here the transfigur'd Son from earth retires: 45
See! the white form in a bright cloud aspires !
Full on his followers burits a flood of rays,
Prostrate they fall beneath th'o'erwhelming blaze !
Like noon-tide summer-funs the rays appear,
Unsufferable, magnificent, and near!
What scene of agony the garden brings;
The cup of gall; the suppliant King of kings !
The crown of thorns; the cross, that felt him die ;
These, languid in the sketch, unfinith'd lie.
There, from the dead, centurions see him rise, 55 See! but struck down with horrible surprize! As the firft glory seem'd a fun at noon, This cafts the silver fplendor of the moon.
Here peopled day, th' ascending God surveys ! The glory varies, as the myriads gaze !
бо Now foften'd, like a sun at distance feen, When through a cloud bright-glancing, yet ferenc ! Now fast-encreasing to the croud amaz'd, Like some vast meteor high in Bether rais’d!
My labour, yon high-vaulted altar stains
With dies, that emulate ätherial plains.
The convex glass, which in that opening glows,
Mid circling rays a pictur'd Saviour shows !
Bright it collects the beams, which, trembling all,
Back from the God, a showery radiance fall. 20
Lightening the scene beneath! a scene divine !
Where faints, clouds, seraphs, intermingled shine!
Here water-falls, that play melodious round,
Like a fweet organ, swell a lofty found !
The folemn notes bid earthly passions fly,
75 Lull all my cares, and lift my foul on high !
This monumental marble-this I rear
To one-Oh! ever mourn’d! Oh! ever dear!
He stopt-pathetic fighs the pause fupply,
And the prompt tear farts, quivering, on his eye! 80
I look'd-two columns near the wall were seen,
An imag'd beauty stretch'd at length between.
Near the wept fair, her harp Cecilia strung;
Leaning, from high, a listening angel hung!
Friendship, whose figure at the feet remains,
A phoenix, with irradiate.creít, luftains :
This grac’d one palm, while one extends t’impart
Two foreign hands, that clasp a burning heart.
A pendent veil two hovering feraphs raise,
Which opening heaven upon the roof displays ! 90
And two, benevolent, less-distant, hold
A vase, collective of perfumes uprol!'d !
These from the heart, by Friendship held, arise,
Odorous as incense gathering in the skies.
In the fond pelican is love exprest,
95 Who opens to her young her tender breast. Two mated turtles hovering hang in air, One by a faulcon struck !-in wild despair, The hermit cries--So death, alas ! destroys The tender confort of my cares and joys ! Again saft tears upon his eye-lid hung, Again check'd founds dy'd, Auttering, on his tongue. Too well his pining inmost thought I know! Too well ev'n silence tells the story'd woe! To his my fighs, to his my tears reply!
105 I stray o'er all the tomb a watery eye!
Next, on the wall, her scenes of life I gaz'd, The form back-leaning, by a globe half-rais'd!