Изображения страниц

One only pledge my weary foul detains,
This hapless infant, all that now remains ;

The mournful image of my once-lov'd wife,

And ties me to hated life.
Elfe this bold hand fhould liberty restore,
And my rapt fpirit feek a happier fhore.
Tho' devious paths with timid hafte we fly,
Where yon blue mountains meet the bending

Nor ferpents' haunts I dread, nor deferts drear,
The malter-favage, Man, alone I fear.


Since from our native realms compell'd to


Such pointedforrows have not touch'd my heart.
Infatiate plunderers! could it not fuffice
To rend, inhuman, all the focial ties ?
From guiltless joys that blefs'd our native foil,
Dragg'd to a life of mifery and toil;
Would you yet take the little God has given,
And intercept the gracious dews of Heaven?
Your rage for blood, wild as your thirft of gain,
Shall no refpects, not truths divine, restrain ?
Th' eternal fabric can a name undo?
Is rape and murder fan&tified in you?
And us, what laws, as impious as fevere,
Forbid the common rites of man to share?
Did'ft thou, creative Power! thy views confine?
For one proud race the fpacious earth defign?
For them alone does plenty deck the vale,
Blush in the fruit, and tinge the fcented gale?

For them the feafons all their sweets unfold?

Blooms the freth rofe,and fhines the waving gold?
O no! all bounteous is thy equal hand,
And thy fix'd laws irrevocable stand!
Hapless Zamboia! had it been thy fate
With me to fhare my more propitious state;
Thy foul had breath'd no impious wish to die,
Nor the big tear had trembled in thine eye.
Disjoin'd from thee, I too to slavery went;
But heaven a father, not a master, lent,
He seems as Virtue's felf in mortal guife;
Tho' wealthy, fimple; and tho' modeft, wife.
Bleft be the hand that life and freedom gave!
That pow'r can boaft, exerted but to fave!
Bleft the fage tongue that ftor'd the vacant mind,
The manners foften'd, and the heart refin'd!
That, ftill to Heaven's unerring dictates true,
Eternal truth unfolded to our view!

But, come! thy faint and weary limbs repofe.
Forgetful of thy fears, thy griefs compofe;
By morning's dawn with earneft foot I speed,
Nor fleep these eyes till I behold thee freed.
Some wealth I have! and, did I prize it more,
Well fpar'd for this I deem the facred store.

So talk'd thefe friends, and to the cottage hafte While fad Zamboia his purfuers

§ 126. A Defcription of a Parish Poor House. CRABBE.

THEIR is yon houfe that holds the parish poor,

Whofe walls of mud scarce bear the broken


There, where the putrid vapours flagging play, And the dull wheel hums doleful thro' the day: There children dwell, who know no parents' care, Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed, Parents,whoknow nochildren's love, dwell there: Forfaken wives, and mothers never wed; Dejected widows, with unheeded tears, Andcrippled age, with more than childhoodfears! The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they! The moping idiot, and the madman gay.

Here too the fick their final doom receive, Here brought, amid the scenes of grief, to grieve: Where the loud groans from fome fad chamber flow,

Mix'd with the clamours of the crowd below: Here, forrowing, they each kindred forrow (can, And the cold charities of man to man : Whose laws indeed for ruin'd age provide, And strong compulfion plucks the fcrap from pride;

But ftill that fcrap is bought with many a figh, And pride embitters what it can't deny.

Say ye, opprefs'd by fome fantaftic woes, Some jarring nerve that baffles your repofe; Who prefs the downy couch, while flavesadvance With timid eye, to read the diftant glance; Who with fad prayers the weary doctor teale To name the nameless ever-new difeafe; Whowithmock-patiencedire complaintsendure, Which real pain, and that alone, can cure; How would ye bear in real pain to lie, Defpis'd, neglected, left alone to die? How would ye bear to draw your latest breath, Where all that's wretched paves the way for death?

Such is that roomwhichone rude beamdivides, And naked rafters form the floping fides; Where thevilebands that bindthe thatcharefeen, And lath and mud are all that lie between; Save one dullpane, that,coarfely patch'd,givesway To the rude tempeft, yet excludes the day: Here, on a matted flock, with duft o'erspread, The drooping wretch reclines his languid head; For him no hand the cordial cup applies, Nor wipes the tear that ftagnates in his eyes; No friends with foft difcourfe his pain beguile, Nor promise hope till fickness wears a smile.

[blocks in formation]

BUT foon a loud and hafty fummons calls,
Shakes the thin
Anon a figure enters, quaintly neat,
All pride and bus'nefs, buftle and conceit;
With looks unalter'd by thefe fcenes of woe,
With fpeed that, entering, fpeaks his hafte to goj

The ruffian band arreft the hapless fwain,
And pray'rs, and tears, and promifes are vain:
Their vengeful fervour, no-not gifts abate;
But, bound in chains, they drag him to his fate.
♦ A higher reward is generally offered for the head of a fugitive negro than for bringing him alive;


He bids the gazing throng around him fly,
And carries fate and phyfic in his eye;
A potent quack, long vers'd in human ills,
Who firft infults the victim whom he kills;
Whofe murd'rous hand a drowsy bench protect,
And whose most tender mercy, is

Paid by the parish for attendance here,
He wears contempt upon his fapient fneer;
In hafte he seeks the bed where mifery lies,
Impatience mark'd in his averted eyes;
And, fome habitual queries hurried o'er,
Without reply, he rushes on the door;
His drooping patient, long inur'd to pain,
And long unheeded, knows remonftrance vain;
He ceales now the feeble help to crave
Of man, and mutely haftens to the grave.

128. Defcription of a Country Clergyman vifiting the Sick. CRABBE.

[ocr errors]


BUT, ere his death, fome pious doubts arife,
Some fimple fears which "bold bad
Fain would be ask the parish priest to prove
His title certain to the joys above;
Forthis he fends the murmuring nurfe, who calls
The holy ftranger to thefe difmal walls:
And doth not he, the pious man, appear,
He," paffing rich with forty pounds a year?"
Ah no! a fhepherd of a

And far unlike him, feeds this little flock;
A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's talk
As much as God or man can fairly afk;
The reft he gives to loves, and labours light,
To fields the morning, and to feafts the night;
None better skill'd the noify pack to guide,
To urge their chace, to cheer them, or to chide;
Sure in his fhot, his game he feldom mifs'd.
And feldom fail'd to win his game at whift;
Then, while such honoursbloomaround his head,
Shall he fit fadly by the fick man's bed,
To raise the hope he feels not, or with zeal
To combat fears that ev'n the pious feel?

$189. The Reason for defcribing the Vices


the Village, CRABBE. afk, thefe humble crimes relate, Why make the poor as guiity as the great? To fhew the great, thofe mightier fons of pride, How near in vice the loweit are allied: Such are their natures, and their paffions fuch, But thefe difguife too little, thofe too much: So fhall the man of pow'r and pleasure fee In his own flave as vile a wretch as he; In his luxuriant lord the fervant find His own low pleasures and degenerate mind: And each in all the kindred vices trace Of a poor, blind, bewilder'd, erring race; Who, a fhort time in varied fortune pait, Die, and are equal in the duft at last, And you, ye poor, who ftill lament your fate, Forbear to envy thofe you reckon great; And know, amid thofe bleffings they poffefs, They are, like you, the victims of distress;

While Sloth with many a pang torments herflave, Fearwaits on guilt, and Danger shakes the brave.

$130. Apology for Vagrants. ANON. FOR him, who, loft to ev'ry hope of life,

Has long with fortune held unequal strife, Known to no human love, no human care, The friendlefs, homeless object of defpair; For the poor vagrant feel, while he complains, Nor from fad freedom fend to fadder chains. Alike, if folly or misfortune brought Those last of woes his evil days have wrought; Relieve with focial mercy, and, with me, Folly's misfortune in the first degree.

Perhaps on fome inhospitable thore The houfelefs wretch a widow'd parent bore; Who, then no more by golden profpects led, Of the poor Indian begg'd a leafy bed. Cold, on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent mourn'd her foldier flain; Bent o'er her babe, her eye diffolv'd in dew, The big drops mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the fad prefage of his future years, The child of inifery, baptiz'd in tears!

§ 131. Epifle to a young Gentleman, on bis leav ing Eton School. By Dr. ROBERTS. SINCE now a nobler scene awakes thy care, Sincemanhood dawning,

Where once in life's gay fpring I lov'd to roam,
Invites thy willing fteps; accept, dear youth,
This parting train; accept the fervent pray`r
Of him who loves thee with a paffion pure
As ever friendship dropp'd in human heart;
Theprayer, That hewho guides the hand of youth
Thro' all the puzzled and perplexed round
Of life's meand'ring path, upon thy head
May thower down every bleffing, every joy
Which health, which virtue, and which fame
can give!

Yet think not I will deign to flatter thee: Shall he, the guardian of thy faith and truth, The guide, the pilot of thy tender years, Teach thy young heart to feel a fpurious glow At undeferved praife? Perish the flave

venal breath in unpractis'd ear Pours poifon'd flattery, and corrupts the foul With vain conceit; whole bafe ungenerous art Fawns on the vice, which fome with honeft hand Have torn for ever from the bleeding breast!

Say, gentle youth, remember'ft thou the day When o'er thy tender shoulders first I hung The golden lyre, and taught thy trembling hand To touch th'accordant ftrings? From that bleft I've feen thee panting up the hill of fame; [hour Thy little heart beat high with honeft praise, Thy cheek was flush'd, and oft thy fparkling eye Shot flames of young ambition. Never quench That generous ardour in thy virtuous breaft. Sweet is the concord of harmonious founds, When the foft lute or pealing organ ftrikes The well-attemper'd ear; fweet is the breath: Of honest love, when nymph and gentle swain


Waft fighs alternate to each other's heart:
But not the concord of harmonious founds,
When the foft lute or pealing organ ftrikes
The well-attemper'd ear; nor the fweet breath
Of honeft love, when nymph and gentle fwain
Waft fighs alternate to each other's heart,
So charm with ravishment the raptur'd fenfe,
As does the voice of well-deferv'd report
Strike with sweet melody the confcious foul.
On ev'ry object thro' the giddy world
Which fashion to the dazzled eye prefents,
Fresh is the glofs of newnefs; look, dear youth,
O look, but not admire: 0 let not these
Rafe from thy noble heart the fair records
Which youth and education planted there:
Let not affection's full, impetuous tide,
Which riots in thy generous breaft, be check'd
By felfish cares; nor let the idle jeers

Of laughing fools make thee forget thyself.
When didst thou hear a tender tale of woe,
And feel thy heart at reft? Have I not feen
In thy fwoln eye the tear of fympathy,
The milk of human kindness? When didst thou,
With envy rankling, hear a rival prais'd?
When didst thou flight the wretched? when def-
The modeft humble fuit of poverty? [pife
Thefe virtues ftill be thine; nor ever learn
To look with cold eye on the charities
Of brother, or of parents; think on thofe
Whofeanxiouscarethro'childhood slipperypath
Suftain'd thy feeble steps; whose every with
Is wafted still to thee; remember thofe,
Even in thy heart, while memory holds her feat.
And oft as to thy mind thou fhalt recal
The fweet companions of thy earliest years,
Mates of thy fport, and rivals in the ftrife
Of every generous art, remember me.

132. Great Cities, and London in particular, allowed their due Praije. CowPER.


A lucid mirror, in which Nature fees
All her reflected features. Bacon there
Gives more than female beauty to a ftone,
And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips.
Nor does the chifel occupy alone
The pow'rs of fculpture, but the ftyle as much i
Each province of her art her equal care.
With nice incifion of her guided fteel
She ploughs a brazen field, and clothes a foil
So fterile with what charms foe'er. fhe will,
The richest fcenery, and the lovelieft forms.
Where finds Philofophy her eagle eye,
With which the gazes at yon burning dik
Undazzled, and detects and counts his fpots!
In London. Where her implements exact,
With which the calculates, computes, and scans
All distance, motion, magnitude; and now
Measures an atom, and now girds a world?
In London. Where has commerce fuch a mart,
So rich, fo throng'd, fo drain'd, and fo fupplied
As London, opulent, enlarg'd, and ftill
Increafing London? Babylon of old
Not more the glory of the earth, than the
A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now,

She has her praife. Now mark a spot or two
That fo much beauty would do well to purge;
And fhew this queen of cities, that fo fair,
May yet be foul, fo witty, yet not wife.
It is not feemly, nor of good report,
That she is flack in difcipline; more prompt
T' avenge than to prevent the breach of law.
That the is rigid in denouncing death
On petty robbers, and indulges life
And liberty, and oft-times honour too.
To peculators of the public gold.
That thieves at home muft hang; but he that puts
Into his overgorg'd and bloated purse
The wealth of Indian provinces, efcapes.
Nor is it well, nor can it come to good,
That, through profane and infidel contempt
Of holy writ, fhe has prefum'd t'annul
The total ordinance and will of God;
And abrogate, as roundly as the may,
And centing all authority in modes
Advancing fashion to the poft of truth,
And cuftoms of her own, till Sabbath rites
Have dwindled into unrefpected forms,
And knees and haflocks are well-nigh divorc'd

tho' true worth and virtue in the mild And genial foil of cultivated life Thrive moft, and may perhaps thrive only there, Yet not in cities oft; in proud, and gay, And gain-devoted cities. Thither flow, As to a common and most noisome fewer, The dregs and feculence of ev'ry land. In cities, foul example on moft minds God made the country, and man made the town. Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts In grofs and pamper'd cities floth and luft, That can alone make sweet the bitter draught And wantonness, and gluttonous excefs. That life holds out to all, fhould moft abound, In cities, vice is hidden with most eafe, And leaft be threaten'd, in the fields and groves? Or feen with leaft reproach; and virtue, taught Poffefs ye therefore, ye who, borne about By frequent lapfe, can hope no triumph there In chariots and fedans, know no fatigue. Beyond th' achievement of fuccefsful flight. But that of idlenefs, and tafte no fcenes I do confess them nurs'ries of the arts, But fuch as art contrives, poffefs ye ftill In which they flourish moft; where, in the beams Your element; there only ye can fhine,, Of warm encouragement, and in th' eye There only minds like yours can do no harm. Of public note, they reach their perfect fize. Such London is, by tafte and wealth proclaim'd The penfive wand'rer in their shades. At eve Our groves were planted to confole at noon The fairest capital of all the world, The moon-beam, fliding foftly in between By riot and incontinence the worst. [comes The fleeping leaves, is all the fight they with; There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank be-Birds warbling, all the mufic. We can spare


The fplendour of your lamps; they but eclipfe
Our fofter fatellite. Your fongs confound
Dur more harmonious notes. The thrush departs
Scar'd, and th' offended nightingale is imute.
I here is a public mifchief in your mirth;
It plagues your country. Folly fuch as yours,
Grac'd with a fword, and worthier of a fan,
Has made,which enemies could ne'er have done,
Our arch of empire, steadfast but for you,
A mutilated ftructure, foon to fall.

Till gowns at length are found mere mafquerade;
The tallel'd cap and the fpruce band a jeft,
A mock'ry of the world. What need of thefe
For gamefter's, jockies, brothellers impure,
Spendthrifts, and booted fportfmen, oft'ner feen
With belted waift, and pointers at their heels,
Than in the bounds of duty? What was learn'd,
If aught was learn'd in childhood, is forgot;
And fuch expence as pinches parents blue,
And mortifies the lib'ral hand of love,
Is fquander'd in purfuit of idle fports

$133. The Want of Difcipline in the English And vicious pleafures; buys the boy a name

Univerfities. COWPER.

N colleges and halls, in ancient days,

Were precious, and inculcated with care,
There dwelt a fage, call'd Difcipline. His head,
Not yet by time completely filver'd o'er,
Bespoke him paft the bounds of freakish youth,
But ftrong for fervice ftill, and unimpair'd.
His eye was meek and gentle, and a mile
Play'd on his lips, and in his fpeech was heard
Paternal fweetness, dignity, and love.
The occupation deareft to his heart
Was to encourage goodness. He would ftroke
The head of modeft and ingenuous worth
That blush'd at its own praife,and prefs the youth
Clofe to his fide that pleas'd him. Learning grew,
Beneath his care, a thriving vigorous plant;
The mind was well inform d, the pallions held
Subordinate, and diligence was choice,

If e'er it chanc'd, as fometimes chance it must,
That one, among fo many, overleap'd
The limits of controul, his gentle eye
Grew ftern, and darted a fevere rebuke,
His frown was full of terror, and his voice
Shook the delinquent with fuch fits of awe
As left him not, till penitence had won
Loft favour back again, and clos'd the breach.
But Difcipline, a faithful fervant long,
Declin'd at length into the vale of years:
A palfy ftruck his arm; his fparkling eye
Was quench'd in rheums of age; his voice

Grew tremulous, and mov'd derifion more
Than rev'rence in perverfe rebellious youth.
So colleges and halls neglected much
Their good old friend; and Difcipline at length,
O'erlook'd and unemploy'd, fell fick, and died.
Then Study languish 'd, Emulation flept,
And Virtue fled. The schools became a fcene
Of tolemn farce, where Ignorance in stilts,
His cap well lin'd with logic not his own,
With parrot tongue perform'd the scholar's part,
Proceeding foon a graduated Dunce.
Then Compromite had place, and Scrutiny
Became ftone blind, Precedence went in truck,
And he was competent whofe purse was so.
A diffolution of all bonds enfued:
The curbs invented for the mulish mouth
Of headstrong youth were broken; bars and bolts
Grew rufty by difufe; and mafly gates
Forgot their office, op'ning with a touch;

That fits a ftigma on his father's house,
And cleaves through life infeparably clofe
To him that wears it. What can after-games
Of riper joys, and commerce with the world,
The lewd vain world that muft receive him foon,
Add to fuch erudition thus acquir'd,
Where fcience and where virtue are profefs'd?
They may confirm his habits, rivet fast
His folly; but to spoil him is a task
That bids defiance to th' united pow'rs
of fashion, diffipation, taverns, stews.
Now, blane we moft the nurflings or the nurfe
The children, crook'd, and twiffed,and deform'd
Through want of care, or her, whofe winking eye
And lumb'ring ofcitancy mars the brood?
The nurse, no doubt. Regardless of her charge,
She needs herself correction; needs to learn,
That it is dang'ous fporting with the world,
With things to facred as a nation's truft,
The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge.

§ 134. Happy the Freedom of the Man whom Grace makes free-His relish of the Works of God-Address to the Creator. COWPER.

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,

And all are flaves befide. There's not a chain
I hat hellish foes confed'rate for his harm
Can wind around him, but he cafts it off
With as much eafe as Samfon his green withes.
He looks abroad into the varied field

of Nature; and tho' poor, perhaps, compar'd
With thofe whofe manfions glitter in his fight,
Calls the delightful fcen'ry all his own.
His are the mountains, and the yalleys his,
And the refplendent rivers; his t' enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence inspir'd,
Can lift to Heaven an unprefumptuous eye,
And fmiling fay--My Father made them all;
Are they not his by a veculiar right?
And by an emphafis of int'reft his,
Whofe eye they fill with tears of holy joy,
Whofe heart with praife,and whofe exalted mind
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love
That plann`d,and built,and still upholds a world,
So cloath'd with beauty, for rebellious man?
Yes-ye may fill your garners; ye that reap
The loaded foil, and ye may waite much good
In fenfelefs riot; but ye will not find
In feaft or in the chace, in fong or dance,
A liberty like his, who, uniinpeach'd


"Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud,
"If from your elevation, whence ye view
Diftinctly scenes invisible to man,
"And fyftems, of whose birth no tidings yet
"Have reach'd this nether world, ye fpy a race
"Favour'd as ours, tranfgreffors from the womb,
"And hafting to a grave, yet doom'd to rile,
"And to poffefs a brighter heaven than yours!
"As one who, long detain'd on foreign hores,
"Pants to return, and when he fees afar [rocks
"His country's weather-bleach'd and batter'd
"From the green wave emerging, darts an eye
Radiant with joy towards the happy land;
"So I with animated hopes behold,
" And many an aching with, your beamy fires,
"That fhew like beacons in the blue abys,
"Ordain'd to guide th' embodied fpirit home
"From toilfome life to never-ending reft.

[ocr errors]

Of ufurpation, and to no man's wrong,
Appropriates nature as his Father's work,
And has a richer ufe of yours than you.
He is indeed a freeman; free by birth
Of no mean city, plann'd or ere the hills
Were built, the fountains open'd, or the fea,
With all his roaring multitude of waves.
His freedom is the fame in ev'ry state;
And no condition of this changeful life,
So manifold in cares, whofe ev'ry day
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less:
For he has wings that neither fickness, pain,
Nor penury can cripple or confine;
No nook fo narrow but he spreads them there
With eafe, and is at large. Th' oppreffor holds
His body bound, but knows not what a range
His fpirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt,
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells." Love kindles as I gaze. I feel defires
Acquaint thy felf with God,if thou wouldst tafte" That give affurance of their own fuccefs,
His works. Admitted once to his embrace,
Thou fhalt perceive that thou wast blind before:
Thine eye fhall be inftructed; and thine heart,
Made pure, fhall relish with divine delight,
Tillthenunfelt,what hands divine have wrought.
Brutes graze the mountain-top with faces prone,
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb

"Andthatinfus'd from heav'nmuftthither tend

It yields them; or, recumbent on its brow,
Ruminate, heedlefs of the fcene outspread
Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away
From inland regions to the diftant main.
Man views it and admires, but refts content
With what he views. Thelandscapehashispraife, In vain thy creatures teftify of thee
But not its Author. Unconcern'd who form'd
The paradife he fees, he finds it fuch;
And, fuch well-pleas'd to find it, afks no more.
Not fo the mind that has beentouch'dfrom Heav'n,
And in the fchool of facred wisdom taught
To read his wonders,in whofe thought the world,
Fair as it is, exifted ere it was:

Not for its own fake merely, but for his
Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praife;
Praise that, from earth refulting, as it ought,
To earth's acknowledg'dSovereign, finds at once
Its only juft proprietor in Him.

The foul that fees him, or receives fublim'd
New faculties, or learns at least t' employ
More worthily the pow'rs the own'd before,
Descerns in all things, what, with ftupid gaze
Of ignorance, till then the overlook'd,
A ray of heavenly light gilding all forms
Terrestrial, in the vast and the minute,
The unambiguous footsteps of the God
Who gives its luftre to an infect's wing,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.
Much converfant with Heaven, the often holds
With those fair minifters of light to man,
That fill the skies nightly with filent pomp,
Sweet conference! enquires what strains werethey
With which heaven rang, when ev'ry ftar, in hafte
To gratulate the new created earth,

Sent forth a voice, and all the fons of God
Shouted for joy-"Tell me ye fhining hosts,
That navigate a fea that knows no ftorms,

So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth
Illuminates; thy lamp, myfterious Word!
Which whofo fees no longer wanders loft,
With intellects bemaz'd, in endless doubt,
But runs the road of wisdom. Thou haft bu,
With means that were not, till by thee employ
Worlds that had never been,haditthouinftrengta
Been lefs, or lefs benevolent than strong.
They are thy witneffes, who fpeak thy pow'r
And goodness infinite, but fpeak in cars
That hear not, or receive not their report.
Till thou proclaim thy felf. Theirs is indeed
A teaching voice; but 'tis the praife of thine,
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn,
And with the boon gives talents for its use.
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain
Poffefs the heart, and fables falfe as hell,
Yet deem'd oracular, lure down to death
The uninform'd and heedlefs fons of men.
Wegivetochance, blind chance,ourfelvesasbling,
The glory of thy work, which yet appears
Perfect and unimpeachable of blame,
Challenging human fcrutiny, and prov'd
Then fkilful moft when moft feverely judg'd.
But chance is not, or is not where thou reign't
Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r
(If pow'r the be that works but to confound)
To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws.
Yet thus we dote, refufing, while we can,
Inftruction, and inventing to ourfelves
Godsfuchasguiltmakes welcome, Godsthatfleep,
Or difregard our follies, or that fit
Amus'd fpectators of this bustling stage.
Thee we reject, unable to abide
Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure,
Made fuch by thee, we love thee for that cause
For which we fhunn'd and hated thee before.
Then we are free: then liberty, like day,
Breaks on the foul, and by a flash from Heaven
Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.
A voice is heard, that mortal ears hear not
Till thou hast touch'd them; 'tis the voiceofiong,

A loud

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »