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It comes: It fil's my labouring breast, I feel my beating heart oppreft. Oh! hear that lonely widow's wail! See her dim eye! her afpect pale! To heavea fe turns in deep deipair, Her infants wonder at her prayer, And, mingling tears they know not why, Lift up their little hands, and cry. O God! their moving forrows fee! Support them, fweet Humanity!
Life, fill'd with grief's diftrefsful train, For ever afks tile tear humane. Beboid in von unconcious grove The victims of Il-fated love! Heard you that agonizing three? Sure this is not romantic woe! The golden day of joy is o'er; And now they part-to meet no more. Aifft them, hearts from anguith free! Ant them, fweet Humanity!
Parent of virtue, if thine ear
Attend not now to Sorrow's cry; If now the pity-Areaming tear
Should haply on thy cheek be dry, Indige my votive strain, O fweet Humanity!
The fightless herd fequacious, who puriue
Which Nature rais'd, rejoicing to be seen,
WHERE is the man, who, prodigal of mind,
O facred Guide! preceptrefs more fublime Than fages boafling o'er the wrecks of time! See on each page her beauteous volume bear The golden characters of good and fair. All human knowledge (bluth, collegiate pride!) Flows from her works, to none that reads denied.
Shall the dull inmate of pedantic walls, On whofe old walk the funbeam feldom falls, Who knows of nature, and of man, no more Than fills fome page of antiquated loreShall he, in words and terms profoundly wife, The better knowledge of the world defpife, Think Wifdom centered in a falje degree, And fcorn the fcholar of Humanity?
Something of men thefe fapient drones may Of men that liv'd two thousand years ago: [know, Such human monfters if the world e'er knew, As ancient verfe, and ancient story drew!
If to one object, fyftem, fcene confin'd, The fure effect is narrowness of mind.
'Twas thus St. Robert, in his lonely wood, Forfook each focial duty-to be good. Thus Hobbes on one dear fyftem fix'd his eyes, And prov'd his nature wretched--to be wife. Each zealot thus, elate with ghoftly pride, Adores his God, and hates the world befide. Though form'd with powers to grasp this various ball,
Gods! to what meannefs may the fpirit fall! Powers that should spread in reafon's orient ray, How are they darken'd, and debarr'd the day i
When late, where Tajo rolls his ancient tide, Reflecting clear the mountain's purple fide, Thy genius, Craufurd, Britain's legions led, And fear's chill cloud forfook each bright'ning head,
By nature brave, and generous as thou art,
O change me, powers of Nature, if ye can, Transform me, make me any thing but man. Yet why! This heart all human kind forgives, While Gillman loves me, and while Craufurd Is nature, all benevolent, to blame, [lives. That half her offspring are their mother's fhame? Did the ordain o'er this fair fcene of things The cruelty of Priefts, or pride of Kings?
Though worlds lie murder'd for their wealth or Poor rioters on Life's contracted stage!
Is Nature, all benevolent, to blame?
"Yet furely once, my friend, the feem'd to err; "For W--ch--t was"-He was not made by her. Sure, form'd of clay that nature held in fcorn, By fiends constructed, and in darkness born, Rofe the low wretch, who, defpicably vile, Would fell his Country for a Courtier's fmile; Would give up all to truth and freedom dear, To dine with *** or fome ideot peer, Whofe mean malevolence, in dark difguife The man that never injur'd him belies, Whofe actions bad and good two motives guide, The Serpent's malice, and the Coxcomb's pride. "Is there a wretch fo mean, fo bafe, fo low?" I know there is-afk W--ch--t if he know.
O that the world were emptied of its flaves! That all the fools were gone, and all the knaves! Then might we, Craufurd, with delight embrace
In boundless love the reft of human race.
Though flocks innumerous whiten every thore,
See countlets worlds of infect being thare
Where Ancon drags o'er Lincoln's lurid plain, Like a flow fnake, his dirty-winding train, Where fogs eternal blot the face of day, And the loft bittern moans his gloomy way; As well we might, for unpropitious fkies, The blamclefs native with his clime defpife, As him who ftill the poorer lot partakes Of Bilcay's mountains, or Batavia's lakes. Yet look once more on Nature's various plan! Behold and love her nobleít creature Man! She, never partial, on each various zone Beftow'd fome portion to the rest unknown, By mutual interest meaning thence to bind In one vast chain the commerce of mankind. Behold, ye vain difturhers of an hour! Ye Dupes of Faction! and ye Tools of Power!
Behold, and lofe your littleness of rage!
We know but little, that we little know.
Plac'd ou this fhore of Time's far-stretching bourn,
With leave to look at Nature and return;
Judg'd not the old Philofopher aright,
So thought the facred Sage, in whom I truf Because I feel his fentiments are juít. 'Twas not in Luftrums of long counted years That fwell'd th'alternate reign of hopes and fear Not in the fplendid fcenes of pain and strife, That Wisdom plac'd the dignity of life; To ftudy Nature was the task design'd, And learn from her th' enlargement of the min Learn from her works whatever Truth admir And fleep in Death with fatisfied defires.
$33. EPISTLE II.
To William Langborne, M. A. 1760. LIGHT heard his voice, and, eager to obey From all her orient fountains burst away.
At Nature's birth, O! had the power divin Commanded thus the moral fun to fhine, Beam'd on the mind all reafon's influence brig And the full day of intellectual light, Then the free foul,on Truth'strong pinionbor Had never languith'd in this fhade forlorn.
Yet thus imperfect form'd,thus blind and va Doom'd by long toil a glimpfe of truth to gai Beyond its fphere fhall human wildom go, And boldly cenfure what it cannot know? 'Tis ours to cherish what Heav'n deign'd to g And thankful for the gift of being live. Progref
e powers, and faculties that rife
ow vale, to gratp the golden fkies, ant far from perfect, good, or fair, umte due thought, and ask the grateful
Sitten thou partner of my life and name, 7 moed fource, whom Nature form'd the
Amarterly in each nobler part, nanaramend, than brother of my heart! the lucid twins that rife
There from thofe ills a fafe retreat behold,
"That, in proportion as each being stays
berts, and thine in ditant skies,Say memeye this mental world furvey,
write of intelle&ual day, answorce, if man the fource may find, science that exalts the mind. Tat-appointed lord of all below! Aman, how little doft thou know? et Fancy's towering thoughts fubbirth, and mortify thy pride! wretch, t, blind, to helpless born, cious might behold with fcorn. za Nature gives him to the day, Laspruting, does he bound away!
4, the foltering teat he finds, ry, and thuns the fearching winds. Crows, be feels no groundlefs fear, tches, and fleeps without a tear. throw to reafon and compare, - ti al, and the mafter there, elections muft the fcene afford, the weakness of his puling Lord!" y unfolds her fpecious plan, mble, but depreciate man. re, if unjust to rate ents from his infant-ftate. dren of the flow'ry vale and of limbs more hale, ve their perfect state explore,
* comparison 's no more. A», hould Me, fo fhort by Heav'n
htthoughtless infancy restrain'd—
sintancy, or vainly fage,
tal watch the blooming flow'r!
ence and reflection clear
Or mourn, with ill-match'd faculties at ftrife,
Conclude we then the progrefs of the mind
When first the trembling eye receives the day,
When dim with age yon golden orbs decline;
O with what art, my friend, what early care,
From low purfuits the ductile mind to fave,
Diftinguit'd far her lofty temple stands,
See favour'd firt, and nearest to the throne
There (but at diftance never meant to vie),
See Attic ease in Sculpture's graceful air,
Simplicity, their beauteous handmaid, dreft
O Arts divine! O magic Powers that move The fprings of truth, enlarging truth and love! Loft in their charms each mean attachment ends, And Taite and Knowledge thus are Virtue's
Thus nature deigns to fympathize with art,
Lives in thofe powers of harmony that bind
My Craufurd still shall claim the mourntul song,
34. The Univerfal Prayer. Pope.
FATHER of All! in every age,
Thou Great First Caufe, leaft understood,
To know but this, that Thou art good,
To fee the good from ill;
What confcience dictates to be done,
This teach me more than hell to shun,
For God is paid when man receives,
When thousand worlds are round.
That mercy thow to me.
Since quicken'd by thy breath,
O thoughts, that wake to monuments of woe!
day, be bread and peace my lot:
White altar, earth, fea, ikies!
All Nature's incenfe ri.!
§ 35. Meshab, a Sacred Eclogue. POPE. YE Nymphs of Solyma! begin the fong; To heavenly themes fublimer trains belong. The molly fountains and the fylvan fhades, The dreams of Pindus and the Aonian maids, Delight no more.-0 Thou my voice infpire, Who touch'd Ifaiah's hallowed lips with fire!
Rapt into future times, the bard begun : A Virgin fhall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son! From Jetle's root behold a branch arise, Whofe facred flow'r with fragrance fills thefkies; The ethereal fpirit o'er its leaves fhall move; And on its top defcends the mystic Dove. Ye heav'ns! from high the dewy nectar pour, And in soft silence thed the kindly thow'r! The fick and weak the healing plant thall aid, From forms a theiter, and from heat a fhade. All crimes fhall cease, and antient fraud fhall fail, Returning Justice lift aloft her fcale, Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, And white rob'd Innocencefrom heav'n defcend. Swift fy the years, and rife th`expected morn! Oh fpring to light aufpicious Babe, be born! See Nature hates her earliett wreaths to bring, With all the incenfe of the breathing fpring: See lofty Lebanon his head advance, See nodding forefts on the mountains dance; See ipicy clouds from lowly Saron rite, And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the fkies! Hark! a glad voice the lonely defert cheers; Prepare the way! a God, a God appears! A God, a God! the vocal hilis reply: The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. Lo, earth receives him from the bending kies! Sink down, ye mountains, and, ye vallies, rife! With heads declin'd, ye cedars, homage pay; Be fimooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way! The Saviour comes by antient bards foretold, Hear him, ye deaf and, all ye blind behold! He from thick films thall purge the visual ray, And on the fightlefs eye-ball pour the day: "Tis he th'obtructed paths of found fhall clear, And bid new mufic charm th' unfolding ear; The dumb thail fing, the lame his crutch forego, And lea exuking like the bounding roe. No figh, no murmur, the wide would thall hear: From ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear. In adamantine chains thall death be bound, And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. As the good thepherd tends his fleecy care, Seeks fresheft pafture, and th pureft air, Explores the loft, the ward'ring fheep directs, By by o'erfees them, and by night protects; The tender lambs he raises in his arms, Feeds from his hand, and in his bofom warms; Thull mankind his guardian care engage, The prais'd Father of the future age. No more ball nation against nation rite, Nor andet warriors meet with hateful eyes, Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er, The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more; But useless lances into fcythes fhall bend, And the broad faulchion in a plough-fhare end.
Then palaces fhall rife: the joyful fon
To leaflets thrub, the flow'ring palms fucceed
36. The Prize of Virtue. Pope.
WHAT nothing earthly gives or can deftrcy, The foul's calm funfhine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is Virtue's prize: a better would you fix?