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Sweeps the long tract of day. | Then high she soars
The blue profound, and hovering round the sun,
Beholds himn pouring the redundant stream
Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway
Bend the reluctant planets to absolve
The fated rounds of time. | Thence far effused
She darts her swiftness up the long career
Of devious comets :/ thro' its burning signs
Exulting | measures the perennial wheel
Of Nature, i and looks back on all the stars, I
Whose blended light, as with a milky zone,
Invests the orient. I
Now amazed she views
The empyreal waste, / where happy spirits hold, 1
Beyond this concave heaven, I their calm abode; /
And fields of radiance, whose unfading light
Has travellid the profound six thousand years,
Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things.
E’en on the barriers of the world untired |
She meditates the eternal depth below,
Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep
She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallowed
up In that immense of being. |
There her hopes Rest at the fatal goal : 1 for, from the birth Of mortal man, the sovereign Maker said, / That not in humble nor in brief delight, I Not in the fading echoes of renown, | Power's purple robes, I nor Pleasure's flowery lap, I The soul should find enjoyment; but, from these Turning disdainful to an equal good, Thro' all the ascent of things enlarge her view, Till every bound at length should disappear, And infinite persection close the scene. /
(A CONVERSATIONAL PLEASANTRY.)
Some wit of old - such wits of old there were, I
Whose hints show'd meaning, / whose allusions care,
By one brave stroke, / to mark all human kind, 1
Callid clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind ; |
Where, still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, I
Fair Virtue put a seal, or Vice, a blot. I
The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; /
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. I
I can you pardon my presumption ?), \ I,
No wit, no genius, yet, for once, will try. I
Various the paper, various wants produce ; |
The wants of fashion | elegance, I and use. I
Men are as various; and if right I scan, I
Each sort of paper represents some man. |
Pray note the fop, i half powder and half lace; |
Nice, as a band-box were his dwelling place; 1
He's the gill-paper, which apart you store,
And lock from vulgar hands in the scrutoire."
Mechanics, farmers, servants, and so forth,
Are copy-paper, of inferior worth ; 1
Less priz'd, i more useful, for your desk decreed ;
Free to all pens, and prompt at ev'ry need. I
The wretch, whom avarice bids to pinch and spare
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,
Is coarse brown paper, such as pedlars choose |
To wrap up wares, / which better men will use.'
Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys |
Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys;
Scrutoire, a case of drawers for writings.
Will any paper match him? | Yes, throughout ; 1
He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt.
The retail politician's anxious thought |
Deems this side always right, and that stark noughe;
He foams with censure ; / with applause he raves ; i
A dupe to rumors, , and a tool of knaves ; |
He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim,
While such a thing as foolscap has a name. I
The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high,
Who picks a quarrel if you step awry, I
Who can't a jest, a hint, or look, endure; 1
What is he? | What? Touch-paper to be sure.
What are our poets, I take them as they fall,
Good, bad, I rich, poor, much read, not read at all!
Them and their works in the same class you 'll find : 1
They are the mere waste-paper of mankind. I
Observe the maiden, I innocently sweet ; |
She's fair white paper, i an unsullied sheet ; !
On which the happy man whom fate ordains,
May write his name, I and take her for his pains.
One instance more, and only one, I'll bring:
'T is the great man who scorns a little thing ; 1
Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his
Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone:
True, genuine, royal-paper is his breast ; 1
Of all the kinds most precious, purest, I best.
MOSES SMITING THE ROCK.
(w. A. VAN VRANKEN.)
On the parch'd plains the tribes of Israel lay,!
Fatigued and sad, to raging thirst a prey :
In that lone region, I in that desert drear, 1
No streamlet's murmur stole upon the ear;/
No brook pellucid glanc'd its light along, i
To cheer the vision of that fainting throng. I
Nought met the eye save Horeb's rock that frown'd,
In gloomy grandeur, on the scene around.
At its broad base, I behold the patriarch stand,
And with his rod, al the Divine command, /
Smile its dark front : lo'erawed by Power Supreme, I
Its riven breast expellid a copious stream;
The new-born waters pour'd their torrents wide,
And foam'd, and thunder'd, down its craggy side. 1
At the glad sound each Hebrew mother there
Her infant clasp'd, and look'd to Heaven a prayer: 1
Joy thrill'd all hearts; for lo! the sunbeams play,
In radiant glory, on the flashing spray
That dash'd its crystals o'er the rocky pile, I
A beauteous emblem of Jehovah's smile.
(w. A. VAN VRANKEN.)
My silent and mysterious flight |
Reveals each morn the glorious light |
That gilds the passing year;
I never stop to rest my wing: 1
Triumphant on the blast I spring - 1
My plumage, dark and sere.
Onward I speed my flight sublime ; |
Before me withers manhood's prime, I
While pillar, dome, and tower, 1
And massy piles, and temples grand,
Lie crush'd beneath my iron hand - 1
Resistless is my power.
Remorseless boaster, hold !, thy wings
May sweep aside earth's mightiest things,'
Mere creatures of an hour:
Thou canst not reach the Heavenly bloom, 1
Celestial tints, and rich perfume, 1
of virtue's lovely flower.
(DRAKE AND HALLECK.) When freedom from her mountain heigill
Unfurl'd her standard to the air, 1 She tore the azure robe of night, I
And set the stars of glory there!| She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white, I With streakings from the morning light! Then, from his mansion in the sun, 1 She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand | The symbol of her chosen land! | Majestic monarch of the cloud ! |
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest trumping loud,
And see the lightning lances driven, When strides the warrior of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven!! Child of the sun !|to thee 't is given
To guard the banner of the free - 1
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, !
The harbinger of victory! |
Flag of the brave! | thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high!,
When speaks the signal-trumpet's tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on;!
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and well
Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet - !
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn,
To where thy meteor glories burn,