249


PRINCETON UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
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12
20
CRELLI
I b
6 exquared to lates
Princeton University Library
Library of
English Poetry
" plotis:
8,32,
18
CAME
AYAT
2413157
104, 145,
158, 196
Sub Nnmine
Founded and maintained
by the
Class of 1875
Dri
Viget


M. A. Murray.
1809.


1
1


F


The
EL
ESSAY
THE
BY
THE
PRIN


M: A. Murray
POEMS,
MORAL,
ELEGANT AND PATHETIC:
VIZ.
ESSAY ON MAN, BY POPE; AN ELEGY IN A COUNTRY
THE MONK OF LA TRAPPE,
BY JERNINGHAM;
THE GRAVE, BY BLAIR;
CHURCHYARD, BY GRAY;
THE HERMIT OF WARK-
WORTH, BY PERCY;
AND
ORIGINAL SONNETS,
BY HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR E. NEWBERY, THE CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S
CHURCH-YARD; AND VERNOR AND HOOD,
BIRCHIN-LANE, CORNHILL.
1796.


ESS
The F
The G
The H
Sonnets
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$7
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سے گئے۔
ESSAY on I
CONTENTS.
Man
The Univerfal Prayer
The Dying Chriſtian to his Soul
The Funeral
The Grave
Elegy, written in a Country Church Yard
The Hermit of Warkworth
Sonnets from Paul and Virginia
I. To Love
II. To Difappointment
III. To Simplicity
IV. To the Strawberry
V. To the Curlew
VI. To the Torrid Zone
VII. To the Calbaffia Tree
VIII. To the White Bird of the Tropic
3598
72476
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PAGE
72
76
79
99
1
141
153
211
213
2:4
215
216
217
218
219
220
1
ין
体​感
​F
3





ESSAY ON MAN.





ESSAY ON MAN.
BY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ.
EPISTLE I.
AWAKE
WAKE, my ST. JOHN! leave all meaner things
To low ambition, and the pride of kings.
Let us (fince life can little more ſupply
Than juft to look about us and to die)
Expatiate free o'er all this ſcene of Man;
A mighty maze! but not without a plan;
A wild, where weeds and flow'rs promifcuous
fhoot;
Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit.
Together let us beat this ample field,
Try what the open, what the covert yield;
B 2


ESSAY ON MAN.
The latent tracts, the giddy heights, explore
Of all who blindly creep, or fightleſs foar ;
Eye Nature's walks, fhoot Folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they riſe;
Laugh where we muft, be candid where we can ;
But vindicate the ways of God to Man.
I. Say firft, of God above, or Man below,
What can we reaſon, but from what we know:
Of Man, what fee we but his ſtation here,
From which to reafon, or to which refer?
Thro' worlds unnumber'd tho' the God be known,
'Tis ours to trace him only in our own.
He, who thro' vaft immenfity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compofe one univerſe,
Obferve how fyftem into fyftem runs,
What other planets circle other funs,
What vary'd being peoples every ftar,
May tell why Heav'n has made us as we are.
But of this frame, the bearings, and the ties,
The ftrong connexions, nice dependencies,


ESSAY ON MAN.
5
Gradations juft, has thy pervading foul
Look'd through? or can a part contain the whole?
Is the great chain, that draws all to agree,
And drawn fupports, upheld by God, or thee?
II. Preſumptuous Man! the reaſon wouldft
thou find,
Why form'd fo weak, fo little, and fo blind?
Firft, if thou canft, the harder reafon gueſs,
Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no lefs.
Afk of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
Taller or ſtronger than the weeds they fhade?
Or afk of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's fatellites are leſs than Jove?
Of fyftems poffible, if 'tis confeft
That Wiſdom infinite muſt form the beſt,
Where all muft full or not coherent be,
And all that rifes, rife in due degree;
Then in the ſcale of reas'ning life, 'tis plain,
There must be, fomewhere, ſuch a rank as Man :
.
B 3


6
ESSAY ON MAN.
And all the queftion (wrangle e'er fo long)
Is only this, if God has plac'd him wrong?
Reſpecting Man, whatever wrong we call,
May, muſt be right, as relative to all.
In human works, tho' labour'd on with pain,
A thouſand movements ſcarce one purpoſe gain;
In God's, one fingle can its end produce;
Yet ferves to fecond too fome other uſe.
So Man, who here feems principal alone,
Perhaps acts fecond to ſome ſphere unknown,
Touches fome wheel, or verges to fome goal;
'Tis but a part we fee, and not a whole.
When the proud ſteed ſhall know why Man
reftrains
His fiery courſe, or drives him o'er the plains;
When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod,
Is now a victim, and now Ægypt's god :
Then fhall Man's pride and dulnefs comprehend
His actions', paffions', being's, ufe and end;


ESSAY ON MAN.
7
Lan
od,
nd
Why doing, fuff'ring, check'd, impell'd; and why
This hour a flave, the next a deity.
Then ſay not Man's imperfect, Heav'n in fault;
Say rather, Man's as perfect as he ought:
His knowledge meafur'd to his ftate and place;
His time a moment, and a point his ſpace.
If to be perfect in a certain ſphere,
What matter, foon or late, or here or there;
The bleft to day is as completely ſo,
As who began a thouſand years ago.
III. Heav'n from all creatures hides the book
of fate,
All but the page prefcrib'd, their prefent ſtate:
From brutes what men, from men what fpirits
know:
Or who could fuffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to day,
Had he thy reafon, would he fkip and play?
Pleas'd to the laft, he crops the flow'ry food,
And licks the hand juſt rais'd to ſhed his blood.
B 4


'8
ESSAY ON MAN.
Oh blindneſs to the future! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n:
Who fees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a ſparrow fall,
Atoms or ſyſtems into ruin hurl'd,
And now a bubble burft, and now a world.
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions foar;
Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.
What future blifs he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy bleffing now.
Hope fprings eternal in the human breaſt:
Man never Is, but always To be bleft:
The foul, uneafy and confin'd, from home,,
Refts and expatiates in a life to come.
Lo, the poor Indian whofe untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His foul, proud ſcience never taught to ftray
Far as the folar walk, or milky way;
1
Yet fimple nature to his hope has giv'n,
Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heav'n,


Designed & Engravid by H. Richterſ.
Lo the poor Indian whose untutord mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind :
Epifle L. 99.
Publish'd May 11796, hy Vernor & Hood.





ESSAY ON MAN.
9
Some fafer world in depth of woods embrac'd,
Some happier iſland in the watry waſte,
Where flaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Chriftians thirſt for gold.
To Be, contents his natural defire,
He aſks no angel's wing, no feraph's fire;
But thinks, admitted to that equal iky,
His faithful dog fhall bear him company.
IV. Go wiſer thou; and in thy ſcale of ſenſe,
Weigh thy opinion againſt Providence ;
Call imperfection what thou fancy'ft fuch,
Say, here he gives too little, there too much;
Deſtroy all creatures for thy ſport or guſt,
Yet cry, If Man's unhappy, God's unjuſt;
If Man alone ingrofs not Heav'n's high care,
Alone made perfect here, immortal there:
Snatch from his hand the balance and the rod,
Re-judge his juftice, be the god of God.
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their fphere, and ruſh into the fkies.


10
ESSAY ON MAN.
Pride ftill is aiming at the bleft abodes,
Men would be angels, angels would be Gods.
Afpiring to be Gods, if angels fell,
Afpiring to be angels, Men rebel:
And who but wiſhes to invert the laws
Of ORDER, fins againſt th' Eternal Cauſe.
V. Aſk for what end the heav'nly bodies fhine,
Earth for whofe ufe? Pride anſwers, ""Tis for
mine :
"For me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r,
"Suckles each herb, and ſpreads out ev'ry flow'r;
"Annual for me, the grape, the roſe renew
"The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew;
"For me, the mine a thouſand treaſures brings;
"For me, health gufhes from a thouſand ſprings,
"Seas roll to waft me, funs to light me riſe;
"My footftool earth, my canopy the fkies."
But errs not Nature from this gracious end,
From burning funs when livid deaths defcend,


ESSAY ON MAN.
11
e,
for
s;
gs;
When earthquakes fwallow, or when tempefts
ſweep
Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep;
"No, ('tis replied) the firſt Almighty Caufe
"Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;
"Th' exceptions few; fome change fince all began:
"And what created perfect ?"-Why then man?
If the great end be human happineſs,
Then nature deviates; and can man do lefs?
As much that end a conftant courſe requires
Of ſhow'rs and funſhine, as of Man's defires;
As much eternal fprings and cloudleſs ſkies,
As Men for ever temp'rate, calm, and wife,
If plagues or earthquakes break not Heav'n's defign,
Why then a Borgia, or a Catiline?
Who knows but he, whofe hand the lightning
forms,
Who heaves old Ocean, and who wings the ftorms;
Pours fierce ambition in a Cæfar's mind,
Or turns young Ammon looſe to ſcourge mankind?


12
ESSAY ON MAN.
From pride, from pride, our very reas'ning ſprings;
Account for moral, as for nat'ral things:
Why charge we Heav'n in thoſe, in theſe acquit?
In both, to reaſon right is to ſubmit.
Better for us, perhaps, it might appear,
Were there all harmony, all virtue here;
That never air or ocean felt the wind;
That never paffion difcompos'd the mind,
But ALL fubfifts by elemental ftrife;
And paffions are the elements of life.
The gen'ral ORDER, fince the whole began,
Is kept in nature, and is kept in Man.
VI. What would this Man! Now upward will
he foar,
And little leſs than angel, would be more?
Now looking downwards, juft as griev'd appears
To want the ſtrength of bulls, the fur of bears.
Made for his uſe, all creatures if he call,
Say what their ufe, had he the powr's of all?


ESSAY ON MAN.
13
Nature to thefe, without profufion, kind,
The proper organs, proper pow'rs affign'd;
Each ſeeming want compenfated of courſe;
Here with degrees of fwiftnefs, there of force;
All in exact proportion to the ſtate;
Nothing to add, and nothing to abate.
Each beaſt, each infect, happy in its own;
Is Heav'n unkind to Man, and Man alone;
Shall he alone, whom rational we call,
Be pleas'd with nothing, if not blefs'd with all?
The blifs of Man (could pride that bleffing find)
Is not to act or think beyond mankind;
No pow'rs of body or of foul to ſhare,
But what his nature and his ftate can bear.
Why has not Man a microſcopic eye?
For this plain reafon, Man is not a fly.
Say what the uſe, were finer optics giv'n,
T' infpect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n?
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er,
To fmart and agonize at ev'ry pore?


14
ESSAY ON MAN.
Or quick effluvia darting thro' the brain,.
Die of a rofe in aromatic pain?
If Nature thunder'd in his op'ning ears,
And ſtunn'd him with the mufic of the ſpheres,
How would he with that Heav'n had left him ftill
The whiſp'ring zephyr, and the purling rill?
Who finds not Providence all good and wife,
Alike in what it gives and what denies ?
VII. Far as Creation's ample range extends,
The ſcale of fenfual, mental pow'rs afcends :
Mark how it mounts, to Man's imperial race,
From the green myriads in the peopled grafs :
What modes of fight betwixt each wide extreme,
The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam:
Of fmell, the headlong lionefs between,
And hound fagacious on the tainted green :
Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood,
To that which warbles thro' the vernal wood?
The ſpider's touch, how exquifitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line:


ESSAY ON MAN.
15
In the nice bee, what fenſe ſo ſubtly true
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
How inftinct varies in the grov'ling fwine,
Compar'd, half-reas'ning elephant, with thine!
"Twixt that, and reafon, what a nice barrier?
For ever ſep'rate, yet for ever near!
Remembrance and reflexion, how ally'd ;
What thin partition ſenſe from thought divide?
And middle natures, how they long to join,
Yet never paſs th' infuperable line!
Without this juft gradation, could they be
Subjected, theſe to thoſe, or all to thee?
The pow'rs of all fubdu'd by thee alone,
Is not thy reafon all theſe pow'rs in one!
VIII. See, thro' this air, this ocean, and this
earth,
All matter quick, and bursting into birth.
Above, how high, progreffive life may go!
Around, how wide! how deep extend below!


16
ESSAY ON MAN.
A
Vaft chain of being! which from God began,
Nature ethereal, human, angel, man,
Beaft, bird, fish, inſect, what no eye can ſee,
No glafs can reach; from infinite to thee,
From thee to nothing -On fuperior pow'rs
Were we to prefs, inferior might on ours:
Or in the full creation leave a void,
Where, one ſtep broken, the great ſcale's deſtroy'd:
From Nature's chain whatever link you ftrike,
Tenth, or ten thouſandth, breaks the chain alike.
And, if each ſyſtem in gradation roll
Alike effential to th' amazing whole,
The leaft confufion but in one, not all
That fyftem only, but the whole muft fall.
Let earth unbalanc'd from her orbit fly,
Planets and funs run lawleſs thro' the ſky;
Let ruling angels from their ſpheres be hurl'd,
Being on being wreck'd, and world on world;
Heav'n's whole foundations to their centre nod,
And Nature trembles to the throne of God.


ESSAY ON MAN.
17
All this dread ORDER break-for whom? for thee!
Vile worm!-oh madnefs! pride! impiety!
IX. What if the foot, ordain'd the duſt to tread,
Or hand, to toil, afpir'd to be the head?
What if the head, the eye, or ear, repin'd
To ſerve mere engines to the ruling mind?
Juft as abfurd for any part to claim
To be another, in this gen'ral frame :
Juft as abfurd to mourn the taſks or pains
The great directing MIND OF ALL ordains.
All are but parts of one ftupendous whole,
Whofe body Nature is, and God the foul;
That, chang'd thro' all, and yet in all the fame;
Great in the earth, as in th' æthereal frame;
Warms in the fun, refreſhes in the breeze,
Glows in the ſtars, and bloffoms in the trees,
extends thro' all extent,
Lives thro' all life,
Spreads undivided, operates unſpent ;
Breathes in our foul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect in a hair as heart;
с


18
ESSAY ON MAN.
As full, as perfect, in vile Man that mourns,
As the rapt feraph that adores and burns :
To him no high, no low, no great, no ſmall;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
X. Ceaſe then, nor ORDER Imperfection name
Our proper blifs depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree
Of blindneſs, weakneſs, Heav'n beſtows on thee.
Submit. In this, or any other ſphere,
Secure to be as bleft as thou canft bear:
Safe in the hand of one difpofing Pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canft not fee;
All difcord, harmony not underſtood;
All partial evil, univerſal good:
And, fpite of pride, in erring reaſon's ſpite,
One truth is clear, WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.


ESSAY ON MAN.
19
EPISTLE II.
1. KNOW then thyſelf, prefume not God to ſcan,
The proper ftudy of mankind is Man.
Plac'd on this ifthmus of a middle ſtate,
A being darkly wife, and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the fceptic fide,
With too much weakneſs for the ftoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or reft;
In doubt to deem himſelf a god, or beaſt;
In doubt his mind or body to prefer ;
Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reafon fuch,
Whether he think too little, or too much;
Chaos of thought and paffion, all confus'd;
Still by himſelf abus'd, or difabus'd;
Created half to rife, and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
C 2


20
ESSAY ON MAN.
Sole judge of truth, in endleſs error hurl'd :
The glory, jeft, and riddle of the world!
Go, wondrous creature! mount where Science
guides,
Go, meaſure earth, weigh air, and ftate the tides;
Inftruct the planets in what orbs to run,
Correct old Time, and regulate the fun :
Go, foar with Plato, to th' empyreal ſphere,
To the first good, firſt perfect, and firſt fair;
Or tread the mazy round his follow'rs trod,
And quitting fenſe call imitating God;
As eaſtern prieſts in giddy circles run,
And turn their heads to imitate the fun.
Go, teach Eternal Wiſdom how to rule-
Then drop into thyſelf, and be a fool!
Superior beings, when of late they faw
A mortal Man unfold all Nature's law,
Admir'd fuch wiſdom in an earthly ſhape,
And fhew'd a NEWTON as we fhew an ape.


ESSAY ON MAN.
21
•
Could he, whoſe rules the rapid comet bind,
Defcribe or fix one movement of his mind?
Who faw its fires here rife, and there defcend,
Explain his own beginning, or his end?
Alas, what wonder! Man's fuperior part
Uncheck'd may riſe, and climb from art to art:
But when his own great work is but begun,
What Reaſon weaves, by Paffion is undone.
Trace Science then, with Modeſty thy guide;
Firft ftrip off all her equipage of pride;
Deduct what is but vanity, or drefs,
Or learning's luxury, or idleness;
Or tricks to thew the ſtretch of human brain,
Mere curious pleaſure, or ingenious pain;
Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrefcent parts
Of all our vices have created arts;
Then fee how little the remaining fum,
Which ferv'd the paſt, and muſt the times to come!
II. Two principles in human nature reign;
Self-love, to urge, and reafon, to reſtrain;
с 3


22
ESSAY ON MAN.
Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call,
Each works its end, to move or govern all :
And to their proper operation ftill,
Afcribe all Good, to their improper, Ill.
Self-love, the ſpring of motion, acts the foul;
Reaſon's comparing balance rules the whole.
Man, but for that, no action could attend,
And but for this, were active to no end:
Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar ſpot,
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot;
Or, meteor-like, flame lawleſs thro' the void,
Deftroying others, by himſelf deftroy'd.
Moft ftrength the moving principle requires;
Active its tafk, it prompts, impels, infpires;
Sedate and quiet, the comparing lies,
Form'd but to check, delib'rate, and adviſe.
Self-love ſtill ſtronger, as its objects nigh;
Reafon's at diftance, and in profpect lie:
That fees immediate good by prefent fenfe;
Reafon, the future and the confequence.
.


ESSAY ON MAN.
23
Thicker than arguments, temptations throng,
At beft more watchful this, but that more ftrong;
The action of the ſtronger to fufpend
Reaſon ſtill uſe, to Reafon ftill attend.
Attention, habit and experience gains;
Each ſtrengthens Reaſon, and Self-love reſtrains.
Let fubtle ſchoolmen teach theſe friends to fight,
More ftudious to divide than to unite ;
And Grace and Virtue, Senfe and Reaſon ſplit,
With all the rafh dexterity of wit.
Wits juft like fools, at war about a name,
Have full as oft no meaning, or the fame.
Self-love and Reaſon to one end aſpire,
Pain their averfion, pleafure their defire;
But greedy That, its object would devour,
This tafte the honey, and not wound the flow'r :
Pleaſure, or wrong, or rightly underſtood,
Our greateft evil, or our greateſt good.
III. Modes of Self-love the paffions we may call:
'Tis real good, or feeming, moves them all :
C 4


24
ESSAY ON MAN.
But fince not ev'ry good we can divide,
And Reafon bids us for our own provide;
Paffions, tho' ſelfiſh, if their means be fair,
Lift under Reaſon, and deſerve her care;
Thoſe that imparted, court a nobler aim,
Exalt their kind, and take fome virtue's name.
In lazy apathy let ftoics boaſt
Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a froft;
Contracted all, retiring to the breaſt:
But ftrength of mind is exercife, not reft;
The rifing tempeſt puts in act the foul,
Parts it may ravage, but preſerves the whole..
On life's vaft ocean diverfely we fail,
Reaſon the card, but Paffion is the gale.
Nor God alone in the ftill calm we find,
He mounts the ſtorm, and walks upon the wind.
Paffions, like elements, tho' born to fight,
Yet, mix'd and foften'd in his work unite:
Thefe, 'tis enough to temper and employ ;
But what compoſes Man, can Man deſtroy?


ESSAY ON MAN.
25
Suffice that Reaſon keep to Nature's road,
Subject, compound them, follow her and God.
Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleafure's fimiling train,
Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain,
Theſe mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd,
Make and maintain the balance of the mind:
The lights and fhades, whoſe well accorded ftrife
Gives all the ſtrength and colour of our life.
Pleaſures are ever in our hands or eyes;
And when, in act, they ceaſe, in proſpect, rife:
Prefent to grafp, and future ftill to find,
The whole employ of body and of mind.
All ſpread their charms, but charm not all alike;
On diff'rent fenfes diff'rent objects ſtrike;
Hence diff'rent paffions more or leſs inflame,
As ftrong or weak the organs of the frame;
And hence one MASTER PASSION in the breaft,
Like Aaron's ferpent, fwallows up the reft.
As Man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
Receives the lurking principle of death;


26
ESSAY ON MAN.
The young diſeaſe, that muft fubdue at length,
Grows with his growth, and ftrengthens with his
ftrength:
So, caft and mingled with his very frame,
The mind's diſeaſe, its RULING PASSION came;
Each vital humour which fhould feed the whole,
Soon flows to this, in body and in foul:
Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head,
As the mind opens, and its functions ſpread,
Imagination plies her dang'rous art,
And pours it all upon the peccant part.
Nature its mother, Habit is its nurſe;
Wit, Spirit, Faculties, but make it worſe :
Reafon itſelf but gives it edge and pow'r;
As Heav'n's bleft beam turns vinegar more four.
We, wretched fubjects tho' to lawful fway,
In this weak queen, ſome fav'rite ftill obey:
Ah! if fhe lend not arms as well as rules,
What can fhe more than tell us we are fools?


ESSAY ON MAN.
27
Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend,
A fharp accufer, but a helplefs friend!
Or from a judge turn pleader, to perfuade
The choice we make, or juftify it made;
Proud of an eafy conqueft all along,
She but removes weak paffions from the ſtrong
So, when ſmall humours gather to a gout,
The doctor fancies he has driven them out.
Yes, Nature's road must ever be preferr'd:
Reaſon is here no guide but fill a guard;
"Tis her's to rectify, not overthrow,
And treat this paffion more as friend than foe
A mightier pow'r the ftrong direction fends,
And fev'ral Men impels to fev'ral ends:
Like varying winds, by other paffions tott,
This drives them conftant to a certain coaft.
Let pow'r or knowledge, gold or glory, pleaſe,
Or (oft more ftrong than all) the love of eaſe;
Thro' life 'tis follow'd, ev'n at life's expenſe;
The merchant's toil, the fage's indolence,


28
ESSAY ON MAN.
The monk's humility, the hero's pride,
All, all alike, find reafon on their fide.
Th' Eternal Art, educing good from ill,
Grafts on this paffion our beſt principle:
'Tis thus the mercury of Man is fix'd,
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd;
The drofs cements what elſe were too refin'd,
And in one int'reft body acts with mind.
As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care,
On favage ftocks inferted, learn to bear;
The fureft virtues thus from paffions ſhoot,
Wild nature's vigour working at the root.
What crops of wit and honefty appear
From fpleen, from obftinacy, hate, or fear!
See anger, zeal and fortitude ſupply;
Ev'n av'rice, prudence; floth, philofophy;
Luft, thro' fome certain ftrainers well refin'd,
Is gentle love, and charms all womankind;
Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a flave,
Is emulation in the learn'd or brave;


ESSAY ON MAN.
29
Nor virtue, male or female, can we name,
But what will grow on pride, or grow on fhame.
Thus Nature gives us (let it check our pride)
The virtue neareſt to our vice ally'd:
Reaſon the bias turns to good from ill,
And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will.
The fiery foul abhorr'd in Catiline,
In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine:
The fame ambition can deſtroy or fave,
And makes a patriot as it makes a knave.
This light and darkneſs in our chaos join'd,
What fhall divide? The God within the mind.
Extremes in nature equal ends produce,
In Man they join to fome myſterious uſe;
Tho' each by turns the other's bounds invade,
As, in fome well-wrought picture, light and fhade,
And oft fo mix, the diff'rence is too nice
Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice.
Fools! who from hence into the notion fall,
That vice or virtue there is none at all.


30
ESSAY ON MAN.
If white and black, foften, and unite
A thouſand ways, is there no black or white?
Afk your own heart, and nothing is ſo plain?
"Tis to miſtake them cofts the time and pain.
Vice is a monſter of fo frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be ſeen :
Yet feen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
But where th' extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed:
Aik where's the north? at York, 'tis on the Tweed;
In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there,
At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
No creature owns it in the firft degree,
But thinks his neighbour further gone than he;
Ev'n thoſe who dwell beneath its very zone,
Or never feel the rage, or never own;
What happier nature ſhrinks at with affright,
The hard inhabitant contends is right.
Virtuous and vicious ev'ry Man muſt be,
Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree:
4


ESSAY ON MAN.
31
The rogue and fool, by fits, is fair and wife;
And ev'n the beft, by fits, what they deſpiſe.
'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill;
For, vice or virtue, felf directs it ftill;
Each individual feeks a fev'ral goal;
But HEAV'N's great view is one, and that the whole.
That counter-works each folly and caprice;
That diſappoints th' effect of ev'ry vice;
That, happy frailties to all ranks apply'd;
Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride,
Fear to the ſtateſman, raſhneſs to the chief,
To kings prefumption, and to crowds belief:
That virtue's ends from vanity can raiſe,
Which feeks no int'reft, no reward but praiſe ;
And build on wants, and on defects of mind,
The joy, the peace, the glory of Mankind.
Heav'n forming each on other to depend,
A mafter, or a fervant, or a friend,
Bids each on other for affiſtance call,
'Till one Man's weakneſs grows the ftrength of all.


32
ESSAY ON MAN.
Wants, frailties, paffions, cloſer ſtill ally
The common int'reft or endear the tie.
To theſe we owe true friendſhip, love fincere,
Each home-felt joy that life inherits here;
Yet from the fame we learn, in its decline,
Thofe joys, thofe loves, thofe int'refts, to refign;
Taught half by reaſon, half by mere decay,
To welcome death, and calmly paſs away.
Whate'er the paffion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,
Not one will change his neighbour with himſelf.
The learn'd is happy nature to explore,
The fool is happy that he knows no more;
The rich is happy in the plenty giv'n,
The poor contents him with the care of Heav'n.
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple fing,
The fot a hero, lunatic a king;
The ſtarving chemiſt in his golden views
Supremely bleft, the poet in his muſe.
See fome ſtrange comfort ev'ry ſtate attend,
And pride beſtow'd on all, a common friend;


Designs & Engraved by H. Richter.
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing.
Epiftle
2 L.267.
Publifh'd May 11796, by Vernor & Hood.





ESSAY ON MAN.
33
See fome fit paffion ev'ry age ſupply,
Hope travels thro', not quits us when we die.
Behold the child, by nature's kindly law,
Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a ſtraw :
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite:
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuſe his riper ſtage,
And beads and pray'r-books are the toys of age:
Pleas'd with this bauble ftill, as that before,
'Till tir'd he fleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays
Thofe painted clouds that beautify our days:
Each want of happineſs by hope ſupply'd,
And each vacuity of fenfe by pride:
Theſe build as faft as knowledge can deſtroy
In folly's cup ftill laughs the bubble, joy;
One profpe& loft, another ſtill we gain;
And not a vanity is giv'n in vain;
Ev'n mean felf-love becomes, by force divine,
The ſcale to meaſure other wants by thine.
D


34
ESSAY ON MAN.
See! and confeſs one comfort ftill muſt riſe;
'Tis this, Tho' Man's a fool, yet, GOD IS WISE.
EPISTLE III.
HERE then we reft: "The Univerſal Caufe
"Acts to one end, but acts by various laws."
In all the madneſs of fuperfluous health,
The trim of pride, the impudence of wealth,
Let this great truth be preſent night and day,
But moſt be preſent, if we preach or pray.
Look round our world, behold the chain of love,
Combining all below and all above.
See plaſtic nature working to this end,
The fingle atoms each to other tend,
Attract, attracted to, the next in place
Form'd and impell'd its neighbour to embrace.


ESSAY ON MAN.
35
See matter next, with various life endu'd,
Prefs to one centre ftill, the gen'ral good.
See dying vegetables life ſuſtain,
See life diffolving vegetate again;
All forms that periſh other forms ſupply,
(By turns we catch the vital breath, and die)
Like bubbles on the fea of matter borne,
They rife, they break, and to that fea return.
Nothing is foreign; parts relate to whole;
One all-extending, all-preferving Soul
;
Connects each being, greateſt with the leaft
Made beaft in aid of Man, and Man of beaſt;
All ferv'd, all ferving: nothing ſtands alone!
The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown
Has God, thou fool! work'd folely for thy good,
Thy joy, thy paſtime, thy attire, thy food?
Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
For him as kindly fpread the flow'ry lawn.
Is it for thee the lark afcends and fings,
Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings?
D 2


36
ESSAY ON MAN.
Is it for thee the linnet pours
his throat,
Loves of his own and raptures fwell the note?
The bounding fteed you pompouſly beſtride,
Shares with his lord the pleaſure and the pride.
Is thine alone the feed that ftrews the plain?
The birds of heav'n fhall vindicate their grain.
Thine the full harveſt of the golden year?
Part pays, and juftly, the deſerving ſteer :
The hog, that ploughs not nor obeys thy call,
Lives on the labours of this lord of all.
Know, Nature's children fhall divide her care :
The fur that warms the monarch, warm'd a bear.
While Man exclaims, "See all things for my ufe!"
"See Man for mine !" replies a pamper'd goofe:
And just as fhort of reafon he muſt fall,
Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.
Grant that the pow'rful ſtill the weak controul :
Be Man the wit and tyrant of the whole:
Nature that tyrant checks: he only knows,
And helps, another creature's wants and woes,


ESSAY ON MAN.
37
Say, will the falcon, ftooping from above,
Smit with her varying plumage, fpare the dove?
Admires the jay the infect's gilded wings?
Or hears the hawk when Philomela fings?
Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods,
To beaſts his paftures, and to fiſh his floods;
For fome his int'reft prompts him to provide,
For more his pleaſure, yet for more his pride:
All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy
Th' extenfive bleffing of his luxury;
That very life his learned hunger craves,
He faves from famine, from the favage faves;
Nay, feafts the animal he dooms his feaft,
And, 'till he ends the being, makes it bleft;
Which fees no more the ftroke, or feels the pain,
Than favour'd Man by touch ethereal flain.
The creature had his feaft of life before ;
Thou too muft periſh, when thy feaft is o'er
To each unthinking being, Heav'n a friend,
Gives not the ufelefs knowledge of its end:
"
D 3


38
ESSAY ON MAN.
To Man imparts it; but with fuch a view
As, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too:
The hour conceal'd, and fo remote the fear,
Death ftill draws nearer, never ſeeming near.
Great ftanding miracle! that Heav'n affign'd
Its only thinking thing this turn of mind.
II. Whether with reaſon, or with inſtinct bleft,
Know, all enjoy that pow'r which ſuits them beſti
To blifs alike by that direction tend,
And find the means proportion'd to their end.
Say, where full inſtinct is th' unerring guide,
What pope or council can they need befide?
Reaſon, however able, cool at beſt,
Cares not for ſervice, or but ſerves when preft,
Stays 'till we call, and then not often near;
But honeft inftin&t comes a volunteer,
Sure never to o'erſhoot, but juſt to hit;
While ftill too wide or ſhort is human wit;
Sure by quick nature happineſs to gain,
Which heavier reafon labours at in vain.


ESSAY ON MAN.
39
This too ferves always, reaſon never long;
One must go right, the other may go wrong.
See then the acting and comparing pow'rs
One in their nature, which are two in ours!
And reafon raiſe o'er inftinct as you can,
In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis Man.
Who taught the nations of the field and wood
To fhun their poiſon, and to chooſe their food?
Preſcient, the tides or tempefts to withſtand,
Build on the wave, or arch beneath the fand?
Who made the ſpider parallels defign,
Sure as De-moivre, without rule or line?
Who bid the ftork, Columbus like, explore
Heav'ns not his own, and worlds unknown before?
Who calls the council, ftates the certain day,
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way?
III. God, in the nature of each being, founds
Its proper bliſs, and ſets it proper bounds:
But as he fram'd a whole, the whole to bleſs,
On mutual wants built mutual happineſs:
D 4


40
ESSAY ON MAN.
So from the firft, eternal ORDER ran,
And creature link'd to creature, man to man.
Whate'er of life all quick'ning æther keeps,
Or breathes thro' air, or ſhoots beneath the deeps,
Or
pours profufe on earth, one nature feeds
The vital flame, and fwells the genial feeds.
Not Man alone, but all that roam the wood,
Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood,
Each loves itſelf, but not itſelf alone,
Each fex defires alike, 'till two are one.
Nor ends the pleaſure with the fierce embraces
They love themſelves a third time in their race.
Thus beaft and bird their common charge attend,
The mothers nurſe it, and the fires defend;
The young diſmiſs'd to wander earth or air,
There ftops the inſtinct, and there ends the care:
The link diffolves, each feeks a freſh embrace,
Another love fucceeds, another race.
A longer care man's helpleſs kind demands;
That longer care contracts more laſting bands:


ESSAY ON MAN.
41
Reflection, reaſon, ftill the ties improve,
At once extend the int'reft, and the love;
With choice we fix, with fympathy we burn;
Each virtue in each paffion takes its turn:
And ſtill new needs, new helps, new habits rife,
That graft benevolence on charities.
Still as one brood, and as another rofe,
Thefe nat'ral love maintain'd, habitual thofe :
The laft, fcarce ripen'd into perfect Man,
Saw helpless him from whom their life began;
Mem'ry and forecaſt juſt returns engage,
That pointed back to youth, this on to age,
While pleaſure, gratitude, and hope, combin'd,
Still ſpread the int'reft, and preferv'd the kind.
IV. Nor think, in NATURE'S STATE they blindly
trod;
The ftate of nature was the reign of God:
Self-love and focial at her birth began,
Union the bond of all things, and of Man.


42
ESSAY ON MAN.
Pride then was not; nor arts, that pride to aid;
Man walk'd with beaſt, joint tenant of the ſhade;
The fame his table, and the fame his bed;
No murder cloth'd him, and no murder fed.
In the fame temple, the refounding wood,
All vocal beings hymn'd their equal God:
The fhrine with gore unftain'd, with gold undreſt,
Unbrib'd, unbloody, ftood the blameleſs prieſt:
Heav'n's attribute was univerſal care,
And man's prerogative to rule, but ſpare.
Ah! how unlike the man of times to come!
Of half that live the butcher and the tomb;
Who, foe to nature, hears the gen'ral groan,
Murders their fpecies, and betrays his own.
But juſt diſeaſe to luxury fucceeds,
And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds;
The fury-paffions from that blood began,
And turn'd on Man a fiercer favage Man.
See him from nature rifing flow to art!
To copy instinct then was reafon's part;


ESSAY ON MAN.
43
66
Thus then to Man the voice of Nature fpake-
"Go, from the creatures thy inſtructions take :
"Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield;
"Learn from the beafts the phyſic of the field;
Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
"Learn of the mole to plow, the worm to weave;
"Learn of the little Nautilus to ſail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
"Here too all forms of focial union find,
"And hence let Reaſon, late, inſtruct Mankind :
"Here fubterranean works and cities fee:
"There towns aërial on the waving tree.
"Learn each finall people's genius, policies,
"The ants' republic, and the realm of bees;
"How thofe in common all their wealth beſtow,
"And anarchy without confufion know;
"And theſe for ever, tho' a monarch reign,
"Their fep'rate cells and properties maintain.
"Mark what unvary'd laws preſerve each ſtate,
"Laws wife as nature, and as fix'd as fate.
<6


44
ESSAY ON MAN.
"In vain thy reaſon finer webs fhall draw,
v;
Entangle juftice in her net of law
"Ant right, too rigid, harden into wrong;
"Still for the ftrong too weak, the weak too ftrong.
"Yet go! and thus o'er all the creatures ſway,
"Thus let the wiſer make the reft obey;
"And for thoſe arts mere inſtinct could afford,
"Be crown'd as monarchs, or as gods ador'd."
V. Great Nature ſpoke; obfervant Men obey'd;
Cities were built, focieties were made:
Here rofe one little ſtate; another near
Grew by like means, and join'd, thro' love or fear.
Did here the trees with ruddier burdens bend,
And there the ſtreams in purer rills defcend?
What war could raviſh, commerce could beſtow,
And he return'd a friend, who came a foe.
Converfe and love mankind might ftrongly draw,
When love was liberty, and nature law.
Thus ftates were form'd; the name of king unknown,
'Till common int'reft plac'd the fway in one:
<<


ESSAY ON MAN.
45
"Twas VIRTUE ONLY (or in arts or arms,
Diffufing bleffings, or averting harms),
The fame which in a fire the fons obey'd,
A prince the father of a people made.
VI. 'Till then, by nature crown'd, each patri-
arch fate
King, prieſt, and parent, of his growing ſtate;
On him their fecond providence they hung,
Their law his eye, their oracle his tongue.
He from the wond'ring furrow call'd the food,
Taught to command the fire, controul the flood,
Draw forth the monfters of th' abyfs profound,
Or fetch th' aërial eagle to the ground.
"Till, drooping, fick'ning, dying, they began
Whom they rever'd as God to mourn as Man:
Then, looking up from fire to fire, explor'd
One great firſt Father, and that firft ador'd.
Or plain tradition that this All begun,
Convey'd unbroken faith from fire to fon;


46
ESSAY ON MAN.
The worker from the work diftin&t was known,
And fimple reaſon never fought but one:
Ere wit oblique had broke that ſteady light,
Man, like his Maker, faw that all was right;
To virtue, in the paths of pleaſure, trod,
And own'd a Father when he own'd a God.
Love all the faith, and all th' allegiance then;
For nature knew no right divine in Men,
No ill could fear in God; and underſtood
A fov'reign being but a fov'reign good.
True faith, true policy, united ran,
That was but love of God, and this of Man.
Who first taught fouls enflav'd, and realms undone,
Th' enormous faith of many made for one;
That proud exception to all nature's laws,
T'invert the world, and counterwork its Caufe?
Force first made conqueft, and that conqueft, law:
'Till Superftition taught the tyrant awe,
Then thar'd the tyranny, then lent it aid,
And gods of conqu'rors, flaves of fubjects made:
7


ESSAY ON MAN.
47
She 'midft the lightning's blaze, and thunder's found,
When rock'd the mountains, and when groan'd the
ground,
She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray,
To pow'r unfeen, and mightier far than they :
She, from the rending earth and bursting skies,
Saw gods defcend, and fiends infernal rife:
Here fix'd the dreadful, there the bleft abodes ;
Fear made her devils, and weak Hope her gods;
Gods partial, changeful, paffionate, unjuſt,
Whofe attributes were rage, revenge, or luft;
Such as the fouls of cowards might conceive,
And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe.
Zeal then, not charity, became the guide;
And hell was built on ſpite, and heav'n on pride.
Then facred feem'd th' ethereal vault no more!
Altars grew marble then, and reek'd with gore:
Then firft the Flamen tafted living food;
Next his grim idol fmear'd with human blood;


48
ESSAY ON MAN.
With heav'n's own thunders thook the world below,
And play'd the god an engine on his foe.
So drives Self-love, thro' juft, and thro' unjuſt,
To one Man's pow'r, ambition, lucre, luft:
The fame Self-love, in all, becomes the cauſe
Of what reſtrains him, government and laws,
For, what one likes if others like as well,
What ferves one will, when many wills rebel?
How ſhall he keep what, fleeping or awake,
A weaker may furpriſe, a ftronger take?
His fafety muft his liberty reftrain:
All join to guard what each defires to gain.
Forc'd into virtue thus by felf-defence,
Ev'n kings learnt juftice and benevolence:
Self-love forfook the path it firft purfu'd,
And found the private in the public good.
"Twas then, the ftudious head or gen'rous mind,
Follow'r of God, or friend of human-kind,
Poet or patriot, rofe but to reſtore
The faith and moral, Nature gave before;
If
Ta
T
T
1
8


ESSAY ON MAN.
49
Relum'd her ancient light, not kindled new;
If not God's image, yet his fhadow drew:
Taught pow'r's due ufe to people and to kings;
Taught nor to flack, nor ſtrain its tender ftrings;
The lefs, or greater, fet fo juftly true,
That touching one muſt ſtrike the other too;
Till jarring int'refts, of themſelves create
Th' according mufic of a well-mix'd ſtate.
Such is the word's great harmony, that fprings
From order, union, full confent of things;
Where ſmall and great, where weak and mighty,
made
To ſerve, not fuffer, ftrengthen, not invade;
More pow'rful each as needful to the reſt,
And, in proportion as it bleffes, bleft;
Draw to one point, and to one centre bring
Beaft, man, or angel, fervant, lord, or king.
For forms of government let fools conteft;
Whate'er is beſt adminiſter'd is beſt;
E


50
ESSAY ON MAN.
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
His can't be wrong whofe life is in the right:
In faith and hope the world will diſagree,
But all mankind's concern is charity;
All muſt be falfe that thwart this one great end,
And all of God, that bleſs mankind or mend.
Man, like the gen'rous vine, ſupported lives;
The ftrength he gains is from th' embrace he gives.
On their own axis as the planets run,
Yet make at once their circle round the fun;
So two confiftent motions act the foul;
And one regards itſelf, and one the whole.
Thus God and nature link'd the gen'ral frame,
And bade felf-love and focial be the fame.


ESSAY ON MAN.
51
EPISTLE IV.
OH HAPPINESS! our being's end and aim!
Good, pleaſure, eafe, content! whate'er thy name:
That fomething ftill which prompts th' eternal figh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die,
Which ſtill ſo near us, yet beyond us lies
O'erlook'd, feen double, by the fool and wife.
Plant of celeſtial feed; if dropt below,
Say, in what mortal foil thou deign'ſt to grow;
Fair op'ning to fome court's propitious fhine,
Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine?
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnaffian laurels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harveſts of the field?
Where grows
where grows it not? If vain our
toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the foil:
E 2


52
ESSAY ON MAN,
Fix'd to no fpot is happineſs fincere,
'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where:
'Tis never to be bought, but always free,
And fled from monarchs, St. John! dwells with thee.
Afk of the learn'd the way? The learn'd are blind;
This bid to ferve, and that to fhun mankind;
Some place the blifs in action, fome in eaſe,
Thofe call it pleaſure, and contentment thefe;
Some funk to beafts, find pleaſure end in pain
Some fwell'd to gods, confefs ev'n virtue vain;
Or indolent, to each extreme they fall,
To truft in ev'ry thing, or doubt of all.
Who thus define it, fay they more or leſs
Than this, that happineſs is happineſs?
Take nature's path, and mad opinions leave ;
All ftates can reach it, and all heads conceive;
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;
And mourn our various portions as we pleaſe,
Equal is common fenfe, and common eaſe.
;


ESSAY ON MAN.
53
Remember, Man, "the Univerſal Cauſe
Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;"
And makes what happineſs we juftly call
Subfift not in the good of one, but all.
There's not a bleffing individuals find,
But fome way leans and hearkens to the kind.
No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride,
No cavern'd hermit, refts felf-fatisfy'd;
Who moft to fhun or hate Mankind pretend,
Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend:
Abftra&t what others feel, what others think,
All pleaſures ficken, and all glories fink:
Each has his thare; and who would more obtain,
Shall find, the pleafure pays not half the pain.
ORDER is Heav'n's first law; and this confeft,
Some are, and must be, greater than the reft,
More rich, more wife; but who infers from hence
That fuch are happier, fhocks all common fenfe.
Heav'n to Mankind impartial we confess,
If all are equal in their happineſs;
E 3


54
ESSAY ON MAN.
But mutual wants this happineſs increaſe;
All Nature's diff'rence keeps all Nature's peace.
Condition, circumftance, is not the thing;
Bliſs is the fame in ſubject or in king,
In who obtain defence, or who defend,
In him who is, or him who finds a friend:
Heav'n breathes thro' ev'ry member of the whole
One common bleffing, as one common foul.
But fortune's gifts if each alike poffeft,
And each were equal, muft not all conteſt?
If then to all Men happineſs was meant,
God in externals could not place content.
Fortune her gifts may varioufly difpofe,
And theſe be happy call'd, unhappy thofe ;
But Heav'n's juft balance equal will appear,
While thoſe are plac'd in hope, and theſe in fear:
Not prefent good or ill, the joy or curſe,
But future views of better, or of worſe.
Oh fons of earth! attempt ye ftill to riſe,
By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies?


ESSAY ON MAN.
55
Heav'n ftill with laughter the vain toil furveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raiſe.
Know, all the good that individuals find
Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind,
Reafon's whole pleaſure, all the joys of ſenſe,
Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence.
But health confifts with temperance alone;
And peace, oh Virtue! peace is all thy own.
The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain;
But theſe leſs tafte them, as they worfe obtain.
Say, in purfuit of profit or delight,
Who rifk the moft, that take wrong means or right?
Of vice or virtue, whether bleft or curſt,
Which meets contempt, or which compaffion firſt?
Count all th' advantage proſp'rous vice attains,
'Tis but what virtue flies from and difdains:
And grant the bad what happineſs they wou'd,
One they muſt want, which is to pafs for good.
Oh blind to truth, and God's whole ſcheme below,
Who fancy blifs to vice, to virtue woe!
E 4


56
ESSAY ON MAN.
Who fees and follows that great ſcheme the beſt,
Beſt knows the bleffing, and will moſt be bleſt.
But fools the good alone unhappy call,
For ills or accidents that chance to all.
See FALKLAND dies, the virtuous and the juft!
See god-like TURENNE proftrate on the duft!
See SIDNEY bleed amid the martial ftrife!
Was this their virtue or contempt of life?
Say, was it virtue, more tho' Hea'v'n ne'er gave,
Lamented DIGBY! funk thee to the grave?
Tell me, if virtue made the fon expire,
Why, full of days and honour, lives the fire?
Why drew Marſeilles' good bishop purer breath,
When Nature ficken'd, and each gale was death;
Or why fo long (in life if long can be)
Lent Heav'n a parent to the poor and me?
What makes all phyfical or moral ill ?
There deviates nature, and here wanders will.
God fends not ill; if rightly underſtood,
Or partial ill is univerfal good,


ESSAY ON MAN.
57
Or change admits, or Nature lets it fall;
Short and but rare, 'till Man improv'd it all.
We just as wifely might of Heav'n complain
That righteous Abel was deſtroy'd by Cain,
As that the virtuous fon is ill at eafe
When his lewd father gave the dire diſeaſe.
Think we, like fome weak prince, th' Eternal Cauſe,
Prone for his fav'rites to reverſe his laws?
Shall burning Etna, if a fage requires,
Forget to thunder, and recall her fires?
On air or fea new motions be impreft,
'Oh blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breaſt?
When the loofe mountain trembles from on high,
Shall gravitation ceafe, if you go by?
Or fome old temple, nodding to its fall,
For Chartres' head reſerve the hanging wall?
But ftill this world (fo fitted for the knave)
Contents us not. A better fhall we have?
A kingdom of the juſt then let it be :
But first confider how thoſe juſt agree.


58
ESSAY ON MAN.
The good muft merit God's peculiar care;
But who, but God, can tell us who they are?
One thinks on Calvin Heav'n's own fpirit fell;
Another deems him inftrument of hell:
If Calvin feel Heav'n's bleffing, or its rod,
This cries, there is, and that, there is no God.
What ſhocks one part will edify the reft,
Nor with one fyftem can they all be bleft.
The very beft will variouſly incline,
And what rewards your virtue, punish mine.
WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.—This world, 'tis true,
Was made for Cæfar, but for Titus too:
And which more bleft? who chain'd his country, fay,
Or he whoſe virtue figh'd to lofe a day?
"But fometimes virtue ſtarves, while vice is fed.”
What then? Is the reward of virtue bread?
That vice may merit, 'tis the price of toil;
The knave deferves it, when he tills the foil,
The knave deferves it, when he tempts the main,
Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain.


ESSAY ON MAN.
59
The good man may be weak, be indolent;
Nor is his claim to plenty, but content.
But grant him riches, your demand is o'er ?
"No-fhall the good want health, the good want
pow'r ?"
66
Add health, and pow'r, and ev'ry earthly thing,
Why bounded pow'r? why private? why no king?
"Nay, why external for internal giv'n?
"Why is not man a God, and earth a Heav'n ?"
Who afk and reafon thus, will fcarce conceive
God gives enough, while he has more to give:
Immenfe the pow'r, immenfe were the demand;
Say, at what part of nature will they ftand?
What nothing earthly gives, or can deflroy,
The foul's calm funfhine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is virtue's prize: a better would you fix,
Then give humility a coach and fix,
Juftice a conqu'ror's fword, or truth a gown,
Or public ſpirit its great cure, a crown,


ESSAY ON MAN.
60
Weak, foolish Man! will Heav'n reward us there
With the fame traſh mad mortals with for here?
The Boy and Man an individual makes,
Yet figh'ft thou now for apples and for cakes?
Go, like the Indian, in another life
Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife:
As well as dream ſuch trifles are affign'd,
As toys and empires, for a god-like mind.
Rewards, that either would to virtue bring
No joy, or be deftru&tive of the thing:
How oft by theſe at fixty are undone
The virtues of a faint at twenty-one!
To whom can riches give repute or truſt;
Content or pleaſure, but the good and juſt?
Judges and fenates have been bought for gold,
Efteem and love were never to be fold.
Oh fool! to think God hates the worthy mind,
The lover and the love of human kind,
Whofe life is healthful, and whofe confcience clear,
Becauſe he wants a thouſand pounds a year.


ESSAY ON MAN.
61
Honour and fhame from no condition riſe,
Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
Fortune in Men has ſome ſmall diff'rence made,
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;
The cobler apron'd, and the parfon gown'd,
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
"What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?"
I'll tell you, friend; a wife man and a fool.
You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
Or, cobler-like, the parfon will be drunk,
Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow;
The reft is all but leather or prunella.
Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round with ftrings,
That thou may't be by kings, or whores of kings;
Boaft the pure blood of an illuftrious race,
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece :
But by your father's worth, if yours you rate,
Count me thofe only who were good and great.
Go; if your ancient, but ignoble blood
Has crept thro' fcoundrels ever fince the flood,


62
ESSAY ON MAN.
Go! and pretend your family is young;
Nor own, your fathers have been fools fo long.
What can ennoble fots, or flaves, or cowards?
Alas! not all the blood of all the HowARDS.
Look next on greatneſs; ſay where greatneſs lies,
"Where but among the heroes and the wife ?"
Heroes are much the fame, the point's agreed,
From Macedonia's madman to the Swede;
The whole ftrange purpoſe of their lives, to find
Or make, an enemy of all mankind.,
Not one looks backward, onward ftill he goes,
Yet ne'er looks forward further than his nofe.
No lefs alike the politic and wife;
All fly flow things, with circumfpective eyes;
Men in their looſe unguarded hours they take,
Not that themſelves are wife, but others weak.
But grant that thofe can conquer, theſe can cheat;
Tis phrafe abfurd to call a villain great:
Who wickedly is wife, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.


ESSAY ON MAN.
63
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or failing, fmiles in exile or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates, that Man is great indeed.
What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath,
A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death.
Juft what you hear, you have, and what's unknown
The fame (my lord) if Tully's or your own.
All that we feel of it begins and ends
In the fmall circle of our foes or friends;
To all befide as much an empty fhade
An Eugene living, as a Cæfar dead;
Alike or when, or where, they fhone, or fhine,
Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.
A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;
An honeft Man's the noble work of God.
Fame but from death a villain's name can fave,
As Juftice tears his body from the grave;
When what t' oblivion better were refign'd,
Is hung on high to poiſon half mankind.
8


64
ESSAY ON MAN.
All fame is foreign, but of true deſert ;
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:
One felf-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of ſtupid ftarers, and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæfar with a fenate at his heels.
In parts fuperior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wife?
"Tis but to know how little can be known:
To fee all others' faults and feel our own:
Condemn'd in bus'nefs or in arts to drudge,
Without a fecond, or without a judge.
Truths would you teach, or ſave a finking land?:
All fear, none aid you, and few underſtand.
Painful pre-eminence! yourſelf to view
Above life's weakneſs, and its comforts too.
Bring then theſe bleffings to a ftrict account;
Make fair deductions; fee to what they 'mount::
How much of other each is fure to coft;
How each for other oft is wholly loft;


ESSAY ON MAN.
65
How inconfiftent greater goods with thefe;
How fometimes life is rifqu'd, and always eaſe:
Think, and if ftill the things thy envy call,
Say, would'ft thou be the man to whom they fall?
To figh for ribbands if thou art ſo filly,
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.
Is yellow dirt the paffion of thy life?
Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife.
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon fhin'd,
The wifeft, brighteſt, meanest of mankind:
Or raviſh'd with the whiſtling of a name,
See Cromwell damn'd to everlaſting fame!
If all, united, thy ambition call,
From ancient ſtory learn to fcorn them all.
There, in the rich, the honour'd, fam'd and great,
See the falfe fcale of happineſs complete!
In hearts of kings, or arms of queens who lay,
How happy thofe to ruin, theſe betray !
Mark by what wretched ſteps their glory grows,
From dirt and fea-weed as proud Venice rofe.
F


66
ESSAY ON MAN.
In each how guilt and greatnefs equal ran,
And all that rais'd the hero, funk the man.
Now Europe's laurels on ther brows behold,
But ftain'd with blood, or ill exchang'd for gold:
Then fee them broke with toils, or funk in eaſe,
Or infamous for plunder'd provinces.
Oh wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame
E'er taught to fhine, or fanctify'd from ſhame!
What greater bliſs attends their cloſe of life?
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife,
The trophy'd arches, ftory'd halls invade,
And haunt their flumbers in the pompous fhade.
Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray,
Compute the morn and ev'ning to the day;
The whole amount of that enormous fame,
A tale, that blends their glory with their fhame!
Know then this truth (enough for man to know)
"Virtue alone is happineſs below."
The only point where human bliſs ſtands ſtill,
And taſtes that good without the fall to ill;
7


ESSAY ON MAN.
67
Where only merit conftant pay receives,
Is bleft in what it takes, and what it gives;
The joy unequall'd, if its end it gain,
And if it loſe, attended with no pain:
Without fatiety, tho' e'er fo bleft,
And but more reliſh'd as the more diftrefs'd;
The broadeft mirth unfeeling folly wears,
Lefs pleafing far than virtue's very tears:
Good, from each object, from each place acquir'd,
For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd;
Never elated, while one man's opprefs'd;
Never dejected, while another's bleſs'd:
And where no wants, no wiſhes can remain,
Since but to with more virtue is to gain.
See the fole bliſs Heav'n could on all beſtow!
Which who but feels can taſte, but think can know :
Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
The bad muft mifs; the good, untaught, will find;
Slave to no fect, who takes no private road,
But looks thro' Nature, up to Nature's God;
F 2


69
ESSAY ON MAN.
Purſues that chain which links th' immenſe deſign,
Joins heav'n and earth, and mortal and divine;
Sees, that no being any bliſs can know,
;
But touches fome above, and ſome below
Learns from this union of the riſing whole,
The firft, laft purpoſe of the human foul;
And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,
All end, in LOVE OF GOD, and LOVE OF MAN.
For him alone, hope leads from goal to goal,
And opens ftill, and opens on his foul;
Till lengthen'd on to FAITH, and unconfin'd,
It
pours the blifs that fills up all the mind.
He fees why Nature plants in Man alone
Hope of known bliſs, and faith in bliſs unknown:
(Nature, whofe dictates to no other kind
Are given in vain, but what they ſeek they find)
Wife is her prefent; fhe connects in this
His greateſt virtue with his greateſt bliſs;
At once his own bright profpect to be bleft,
And ſtrongeſt motive to affiſt the reſt.


ESSAY ON MAN.
69.
Self-love thus pufh'd to focial, to divine,
Gives thee to make thy neighbour's bleffing thine.
Is this too little for the boundleſs heart?
Extend it, let thy enemies have part :
Grafp the whole worlds of reaſon, life, and fenfe
In one clofe fyftem of benevolence:
Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,
And height of bliſs but height of charity.
God loves from whole to parts: but human foul
Muft rife from individual to the whole.
Self-love but ferves the virtuous mind to wake,
As the fmall pebble ftirs the peaceful lake;
The centre mov'd, a circle ſtrait fucceeds,
Another ftill, and ftill another ſpreads;
Friend, parent, neighbour, firſt it will embrace;
His country next; and next all human race:
Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind
Take ev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind;
Earth fmiles around, with boundleſs bounty bleft,
And Heav'n beholds its image in his breaſt.
F 3


70
ESSAY ON MAN.
Come then, my friend! my genius! come along!
Oh mafter of the poet and the fong!
And while the Muſe now ftoops, or now aſcends,
To man's low paffions, or their glorious ends,
Teach me, like thee, in various nature wife,
To fall with dignity, with temper riſe;
Form'd by thy converfe, happily to fteer
From grave to gay, from lively to fevere;
Correct with ſpirit, eloquent with eaſe,
Intent to reafon, or polite to pleaſe.
Oh! while along the ftream of time thy name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame;
Say fhall my little bark attendant fail,
Purſue the triumph, and partake the gale?
When ſtateſmen, heroes, kings in duſt repoſe,
Whoſe fons fhall bluſh their fathers were thy foes
Shall then this verſe to future age pretend
Thou wert my guide, philofopher, and friend?
That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art
From founds to things, from fancy to the heart;


ESSAY ON MAN.
71
For Wit's falfe mirror held up Nature's light;
Shew'd erring Pride, WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT;
That REASON, PASSION, anfwer one great aim;
That true SELF-LOVE and SOCIAL are the fame;
That VIRTUE Only makes our bliſs below;
And all our knowledge is OURSELVES TO KNOW.
F 4


( 72 )
THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER
DEO OPT. MAX.
FATHER of all! in ev'ry age,
In ev'ry clime ador'd,
By faint, by favage, and by fage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.
Thou Great Firſt Cauſe, leaſt underſtood:
Who all my fenſe confin'd
To know but this, that Thou art Good,
And that myſelf am blind;
Yet gave me, in this dark eftate,
To fee the good from ill;
And binding nature faſt in fate,
Left free the human will.


UNIVERSAL PRAYER.
73
What Conſcience dictates to be be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than hell to fhun,
That, more than heav'n purſue.
What bleffings thy free bounty gives,
Let me not caft away;
For God is paid when Man receives,
T' enjoy is to obey.
Yet not to earth's contracted fpare
Thy goodneſs let me bound,.
Or think Thee Lord alone of Man,
When thouſand worlds are round:
Let not this weak unknowing hand
Prefume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land
On each I judge thy foe.


74
PRAYER.
UNIVERSAL
If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to ſtay;
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way.
Save me alike from fooliſh pride,
Or impious diſcontent,
At aught thy wiſdom has deny'd,
Or aught thy goodneſs lent.
Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I fee;
That mercy I to others ſhow,
That mercy fhow to me.
Mean tho' I am, not wholly fo,
Since quick'ned by thy breath;
Oh lead me wherefo'er I go,
Thro' this day's life or death.
T


UNIVERSAL PRAYER.
75
P
lot:
This day, be bread and peace my
All elfe beneath the fun,
Thou know'ft if beft beftow'd or not,
And let thy will be done.
To thee, whofe temple is all ſpace,
Whofe altar, earth, fea, fkies!
One chorus let all being raiſe!
All nature's incenfe rife!


( 76 )
THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.'
ODE.
VITAL fpark of heav'nly flame,
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the blifs of dying!
Ceaſe, fond Nature, ceaſe thy ftrife,
And let me languiſh into life.
Hark! they whifper; angels ſay,
Sifter Spirit, come away.
What is this abſorbs me quite,
Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight,
Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my foul, can this be death?


THE DYING CHRISTIAN.
77
172
The world recedes; it diſappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With founds feraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy fting?


1


THE FUNERAL OF ARABERT,
MONK OF LA TRAPPE.


1
<
ADVERTISEMENT.
ARABERT, a young ecclefiaftic, retired to the convent of La
Trappe, in obedience to a vow he had taken during a fit of
illness: LEONORA, with whom he had lived in the ſtrictest
intimacy, followed her lover, and by the means of a diſguiſe
obtained admiſſion into the monaſtery, where a few days after
the affifted at her lover's Funeral.


THE FUNERAL.
BY MR. JERNINGHAM.
FAIR LEONORA, by affliction led,
Sought the dread dome where fleep the hallow d
dead.
The folemn edifice was wrapt around
In midnight darkneſs, and in peace profound:
A folitary lamp, with languid light,
Serv'd not to chaſe, but to diſcloſe the night;
Serv'd to difclofe (the fource of all her pains)
The tomb that gap'd for ARABERT's remains.
To this fhe fent the deep, the frequent figh,
And ſpoke the warm tear rufhing from her eye.
Ꮐ


82
THE FUNERAL.
• Doom'd to receive all that my foul holds dear,
"Give him that reft his heart refus'd him here:
'Oh fcreen him from the pain the tender know,
The train of forrows that from paffion flow !
And to his happier envied ftate adjoin
(Or all is vain) an ignorance of mine.'
As thus the mourn'd, an aged priest drew near,
(Whofe pure life glided as the riv'let clear)
The virtuous ANSELM.-Tho' in cloiſters bred,
Still bright-ey'd Wiſdom to his cell he led:
From paths of fophiftry he lov'd to ftray,
To tread the walk where Nature led the way.
The Prior's rank he long had held approv'd,
Efteem'd, rever'd, and as a parent lov'd:
Unfkilful in the jargon of the ſchools,
He knew humanity's diviner rules:
To others gentle, to himſelf ſevere,
On forrow's wound he dropt the healing tear.
In all the negligence of grief he found
The fair extended on the naked ground.


THE FUNERAL.
83
Touch'd at her woe the facred father faid,
'Well may'ft thou droop if happineſs be fled :
Sure, if at holy ARABERT's deceaſe
'Impetuous forrows ruſh upon thy peace,
'Some much lov'd friend in him you muſt deplore,
Or, dearer ftill, a brother is no more:
'Yet, as through life our weary fteps we bend,
'Let us not fink when beating ſtorms deſcend :
'Still let Religion hold unrivall'd ſway,
• And Patience walk companion of our way.
'Ah, loſe not fight of that delightful ſhore,
Whofe blissful bowers fhall friends to friends
reſtore !
'Tho' here misfortune comes to blaft our will,
"The Heav'ns are juſt, and God a Father ſtill.'
'Bleft be the voice,' the rifing mourner faid,
That bids affliction raife her drooping head:
That bids me hope (beyond ev'n Death's domain)
" Thefe eyes fhall banquet on my love again.
G 2


84
J
THE FUNERAL.
'Ah, ſtart not, ANSELM-for to truth ally'd,
Impiety now throws her maſk afide:
No holy monk, by contemplation led,
'To theſe fequefter'd manfions of the dead;
'No youth, devoted to religion's pow'r,
Implores thy pity at this awful hour.
<
"
'The guilty fecret-I'll at length unfold-
—(forgive) a woman you behold.
In me-
Ah fly me not, let mercy now prevail,
And deign to mark my fad diſaſt'rous tale.
'Known to misfortune from my tender years,
'My parents' afhes drank my early tears:
A barb'rous uncle, to each vice ally'd,
The office of a parent ill ſupplied :
<
Of my entire inheritance poffefs'd,
"
By lucre prompted, and by fortune bleft,
He pafs'd the ocean never to return,
And left me weeping o'er my parents' urn:
Then ARABERT, the gen'rous ftranger, came
To foothe my forrows, and relieve my fhame


THE FUNERAL.
85
Beneath his tender care my woes decreas'd,
• More than religion's, he was pity's prieſt :
To reach his bounty my affection ſtrove,
'Till gratitude was heighten'd into love:
'Nor he at length refus'd the lover's part,
The pity that adorn'd, betray'd his heart.
How ardently he with'd the nuptial rite,
'In holy wedlock, might our hands unite :
But ftern Religion at our vows exclaim'd,'
And tore the bands that Love and Nature fram'd:
"
·
"
'For then, devoted to her hallow'd fhrine,
'His country's laws forbade him to be mine.
"Tho' from my mind each flatt'ring thought retir'd›
And in my bofom hope and peace expir'd;
Yet on their ruins, love triumphant role:
Enough-fhame o'er the reft a mantle throws.
At length remorfe effac'd the guilty ſcene,
And to his breaft apply'd her dagger keen;
Reftrain'd in full career the erring youth,
And led him back to innocence and truth.
G 3


66
THE FUNERAL.
''Twas then he fled from pleaſure's rofy bow'rs,
To woo religion in theſe gloomy tow'rs:
'Yet ere he fled my blifs he fondly plann'd,
And ſcatter'd riches with a lavish hand.
Ah, what to me avail'd the golden ſtore ?
'The giver gone, the gift could charm no more.
'While in the gloom his tedious abſence caſt,
'My former life in fancy I repafs'd,
·
"
Repentance gain'd admiffion to my breaſt,
Nor did it enter an unwelcome guest:
For ne'er to pleaſure I difmifs'd the rein
Free and unconſcious of reflection's pain;
'If hapless LEONORA lov'd too well,
'Content, fair Virtue's friend, with Virtue fell :
* But not my ſtubborn foul could pray'r fubdue,
Ev'n grafted on remorfe my paffion grew;
Too fatal paffion-by its impulſe led,
In man's attire to this retreat I fled :
Yet then, ev'n then to baſhful fear allied,
Still o'er my love did modeſty prefide.
6


THE FUNERAL.
87
< In thoſe ſweet moments that precede the night,
• When peaceful nature wears a ſoften'd light,
I met the youth within the folemn grove,
6 (His frequent walk) abſorb'd in heav'nly love:
'By warm occafion eagerly impell'd,
"
A fudden fear my ready fteps withheld :
While God and he employ the trembling feene,
"Twere facrilege, I cried, to rush between :
Still from that hour my wishes I reſtrain'd,
And in my breaft th' unwilling fecret chain'd,
< Unknown to him, yet half-content I grew,
So that his form might daily charm my view.
But new affliction, with relentless hand,
""
O'erthrew the project that my heart had plann'd:
'Amid the horrors of the loneſome night,
* A ghaftly ſpectre rush'd upon my fight,
And pour'd theſe accents on my trembling ear,
‹ Think not impiety ſhall triumph here :
Thy hopes are blafted-Death's tremendous bell
Shall found, ere many hours, thy lover's knell.
T4


'88
THE FUNERAL.
"I ftarted from my couch, with fright impreſs'd,
'Flew to the fane to calm my anxious breaſt;
6
By love then prompted-yet by love diſmay'd,
،
The peopled choir I tremblingly furvey'd ;
Still mid th' innumerous monaftic train
'Theſe eyes folicited his form in vain.
• Nor in the field or penfive grove retir'd
'Could I diſcover whom my heart requir'd:
< Then fure (I cried) at this unhappy hour
'Does anguish o'er its cell diffuſe its pow'r :
• Shall LEONORA not relieve his pain,
' And with theſe arms his drooping head ſuſtain ?
Say, at the couch, when death is ftalking round,
Shall not the ſpouſe of his fond heart be found!
'Ah no-th' affection that fubdues me ftill,
At that dread moment check'd my ardent will,
'Left rushing on his fight I ſhould controul
The holy thoughts that hover'd o'er his foul.
This low'ring morn difclos'd the fatal truth:
Oh early loft-oh lov'd-oh hapless youth-
"


THE FUNERAL.
89
.6
6
Fix'd to the column of the hallow'd porch-
"Twas fcarcely light-fome Fury lent her torch-
'I read-
The pious ARABERT's no more,
The peace the dead require, for him implore.
Let peace, let joy (I ſaid), his ſpirit join,
'Nor joy, nor peace, muſt e'er encircle mine.
Lamented youth! too tenderly allied,
In vain you fled me, and in vain you died;
'Still to your image, which this breaſt inurns,
"
My conftant heart a lamp perpetual burns.
'But thou, to whom as friend he did impart
Each latent with, and foible of the heart;
For well I know, where forrow drops a tear,
Or mifery complains, thou ftill art near;
Ah fay, by love did my known image dreſt
'Come to his mind thus welcome, thus careft?
'Or on his foul come rufhing undefir'd,
The fatal fair, by female arts infpir'd,


go
THE FUNERAL.
Who dimm'd the luftre of his radiant name,
And from his temples tore the flow'r of fame:
< Who thro' the labyrinth of Pleaſure's bow'r
< Allur'd (for beauty fuch as mine had pow'r)
'Ev'n to the dang'rous fteep-and caft him down
'From high repute to grov'ling diſrenown.
Wretch that I am, to my diftreſsful ſtate
There wanted not th' addition of his hate:
+6
4
"
'6
4
For him I plung'd my artleſs youth in ſhame,
Unlock'd referve, and facrific'd my fame.
Still, ftill I fear (unable to confide),
Before my ARABERT, the lover died:
This thought (to thee I'll own) fufpends my grief,
While cold indifference comes to my relief.
"
Say, virtuous ANSELM, if this thought be vain,
And give, oh give me all my grief again!,
To her replied the pity-breathing feer,
* Mark well my words, and loſe thy idle fear:
When on the couch of death the victim lay,
• Not in that moment was his friend away.


THE FUNERAL.
91
5
•
"
"
As at his fide I took my mournful ſtand,
< With feeble graſp he ſeiz'd my offer'd hand,
And thus began :-" The fatal dart is ſped,
Soon, foon fhall ARABERT increaſe the dead.
''Tis well-for what can added life beftow,
'But days returning ftill with added woe.
Say, have I not fecluded from my fight
The lovely object of my paſt delight?
" Ah, had I too dethron'd her from my mind,
" When here the holy brotherhood I join'd,
'Remorfe would not, increafing my diſeaſe,
Prey on my foul, and rob it of its cafe:
And yet I ftrove, unequal to the part,
Weak to perform the facrifice of heart;
'And now, ev'n now, too feeble to controul,
་
I feel her clinging to my parting foul."
'He ſpoke (my fympathetic bofom bled)
And to the realms of death his ſpirit fled.'
The fair rejoin'd: Milled by foul diſtruſt,
To him, whofe heart was mine, am I unjuft?
·


g2
THE FUNERAL.
·
Ah, ARABERT, th' unwilling fault forgive,
Dead to th' alluring world, in thee I live:
'My thoughts, my deep regret, my forrows own,
"
No view, no object ftill, but thee alone:
At all the vengeance burſting from above,
Alarm'd, I weep, I fhudder, yet I love.'
As thus the fpoke, the death-bell ſmote her ear,
While to the porch the fun'ral train drew near.
Ah, LEONORE, in that tremendous hour,
Didft thou not feel all Heav'n's avenging pow'r,
When, moving thro' the aisle, the choral band,
And vefted prieſts, with torches in their hand,
Gave to thy view, unfortunately dear,
Thy lover fleeping on th' untimely bier?
Collecting now at length her ſcatter'd force,
With trembling footſteps fhe approach'd the corſe,
And while the check'd the conflict in her breaſt,
The wide encircling throng the thus addreſs'd :
• Well may ye mark me with aſtoniſh'd eyes,
• Audacious hypocrite in man's diſguiſe;
6


THE FUNERAL.
03
"
'Who, urg'd by paffion, dar'd with ſteps profane
Approach the hallow'd doom of virtue's train.
• Lead me, ah lead me, to the dungeon's gloom,
The rack prepare-I yield me to your doom:
'Yet ftill fhould pity in your breaſt abide,
And pity fure to virtue is allied,
To
my
diftrefs benign attention lend,
'Your acts of rigour for a while fuſpend,
'Till o'er this bier ('tis nature's kind relief)
'I've pour'd my plaints, and paid the rites of grief.
<
Ah, he was dearer to this bleeding heart,
Far dearer than expreffion can impart.
'Thou who didit place us in this vale of tears,
'Where forrow blafts the plant that pleaſure rears:
፡
If, as the tenets of our creed require,
s
'Thy waken'd juſtice breathe immortal ire;
If love, from whence ev'n here misfortunes flow,
'Beyond the grave you curſe with endleſs woe;
'Ah not on ARABERT thy vengeance pour!
On me, on me thy ftorm of anger ſhow'r!


94
THE FUNERAL.
· For I allur'd him far from virtue's way,
And led his youthful innocence aftray:
•
Ah, not in puniſhment our fate conjoin;
'He thar'd the rapture, but the guilt was mine.'
With trembling hand ſhe now the veil withdrew,
When lo the well-known features ftruck her view.
Abforpt in grief the caft a fond furvey--
At length her thoughts in murmurs broke away:
That eye-which ſhed on mine voluptuous light,
Alas, how funk in everlaſting night!
'See from thoſe lips the living colour fled,
'Where love refided, and where pleaſure fed!
And where bright eloquence had pour'd her ſtore
Dumb horror fits-and wifdom is no more.
Yet ere the worm (fince this is doom'd its prey)
• Shall ſteal the ling'ring likeneſs quite away,
On that cold lip fure LEONORE may dwell,
'And, free from guilt, imprint the long farewell."
She added not-but, bending low her head,
Three times the mourner kifs'd th' unconſcious dead.


THE FUNERAL..
95
B
Now holy ANSELM urg'd her to reſtrain
Her boundleſs grief, in rev'rence of the fane.
She anſwer'd, ſtarting from the fable bier,
"Can I forget that ARABERT was dear!
Can I, cold monitor, from hence remove,
His worth unrivall'd, and his lasting love!
"Can I forget, as deſtitute I lay,
To fickness, grief, and penury, a prey,
How eagerly he flew at pity's call,
Put forth his hand, and rais'd me from my
All unfolicited he gave me wealth,
'He gave me folace, and he gave me health;
And, dearer than the blifs thofe gifts impart,
'He ſtrain'd me to his breaſt, and gave his heart.
And fhall theſe hallow'd walls and awful fane
fall!
• Reproach the voice that pours the praiſeful ſtrain?
·
Say, at the friend's, the guardian's, lover's tomb,
• Can forrow fleep, and gratitude be dumb?
• But I fubmit-and bend thus meekly low,
To kifs th' avenging hand that dealt the blow:


96
THE FUNERAL.
"
Refign'd I quit the lofing path I trod,
Fall'n is my idol-and I worſhip God.'
She ceas'd-the choir intones the fun'ral ſong,
Which holy echoes plaintively prolong;
And now the folemn organ, tun'd to woe,
Pour'd the clear notes pathetically flow.
Theſe rites perform'd-along th' extending fane
She now attends the flow proceeding train;
Who o'er the mournful cypreſs-ſhaded way,
To the expecting tomb, the dead convey.
See now the prieſts the cloſing act prepare,
And to the darkfome vault commit their care.
At this dread fcene, too feelingly diſtreſs'd,
She pour'd the laft effufions of her breaſt:
'Come, guardian ſeraph, from thy throne above,
And watch the tomb of my departed love.'
•
She paus'd then (o'er the yawning tomb reclin'd)
In all the tenderneſs of grief rejoin'd:
'Oh beauty's flow'r-oh pleaſure ever new-
<
Oh friendſhip, love, and conftancy, adieu !
1


THE FUNERAL.
97
Methinks a voice ev'n animates the clay,
"And in low accents fummons me away:
Hafte, LEONORE-thy other felf rejoin,
And let thy glowing afhes mix with mine.
Ah, truſt me, ARABERT! to ſhare thy doom,
Prepar'd, refolv'd, I'll meet thee in the tomb.
Forbear, oh Heav'n, in pity to theſe tears,
" To curfe my forrow with a length of years.
·"
• Ye virtues that adorn'd th' unhappy youth,
Affection, pity, confidence, and truth,
The gen'rous thoughts that with the feeling dwell,
And fympathy of heart-farewell, farewell!
Not all of ARABERT this tomb contains,
< All is not here while LEONORE remains.
.
"
"
"And when this drooping form fhall prefs the bier
Say, virtuous ANSELM, wilt thou not be near?
"The friendly requiem for my foul to crave,
And lay theſe limbs in this lamented grave?
Then, when this tortur'd heart fhall ceaſe to burn,
"Our blended duft ſhall warm the faithful urn:
H


98
THE FUNERAL.
Nor diftant far is that releafing hour,
For Nature, now opprefs'd beyond her pow'r,
'Refigns at length my troubled foul to reſt,
And grief's laft anguifh rufhes thro' my breaſt.
<
Behold her now extended on the ground,
And ſee the facred brethren kuceling round:
Them fhe addreffes in a fault'ring tone,
Say, cannot death my daring crime atone?
Ah, let compaffion now your hearts inſpire,
Amid your pray'rs, I unalarm'd expire.
‹ Thou who art ev'n in this dread moment dear,
6
Oh, fhade of ARABERT, ftill hover near.
'I come.'-
-And now emerging from her woes
('Twas love's laſt effort) from the earth fhe rofe;
And, ftrange to tell, with ftrong affection fraught,
She headlong plung'd into the gloomy vault:
And there, what her impaffion'd with requir'd,
On the lov'd breaſt of ARABERT expir'd.


THE GRAVE.
H 2


1 g, 4 vertigo, a


3
THE GRAVE.
BY ROBERT BLAIR.
WHILE fome affect the fun, and fome the fhade,
Some feek the city fome the hermitage;
Their aims as various as the roads they take
In journeying thro' life; the talk be mine
To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb;
Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all
Thefe trav'llers meet. Thy fuccours I implore,
Eternal King! whofe potent arm ſuſtains
The keys of death and hell. The Grave, dread thing!
Men fhiver when thou'rt nam'd: Nature appall'd;
Shakes off her wonted firmneſs. Ah! how dark
H 3


102
THE GRAVE.
Thy long-extended realms, and rueful waftes!
Where nought but filence reigns, and night, dark
night,
Dark as was chaos, ere the infant fun
Was roll'd together, or had try'd its beams
Athwart the gloom profound! The fickly taper,
By glimmering thro' thy low-brow'd mifty vaults,
(Furr'd round with mouldy damps, and ropy flime,)
Lets fall a fupernumerary horror,
And only ferves to make thy night more irkſome.
Well do I know thee, by thy truſty yew,
Cheerleſs, unſocial plant! that loves to dwell
Midft fculls and coffins, epitaphs and worms:
Where light-heel'd ghoſts, and viſionary ſhades,
Beneath the wan cold moon (as fame reports)
Embody'd thick, perform their myftic rounds.
No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.
See yonder hallow'd fane! the pious work
Of names once fam'd, now dubious, or forgot,
And buried 'midft the wreck of things which were:


THE GRAVE.
103
There lie interr'd the more illuftrious dead.
The wind is up: hark! how it howls! methinks,
Till now, I never heard a found fo dread!
Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird,
Rook'd in the ſpire, fcreams loud! the gloomy aiſles,
Black plaifter'd, and hung round with fhreds of
'fcutcheons
And tatter'd coats of arms, ſend back the found,
Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults,
The manfions of the dead. Rouz'd from their
flumbers,
In grim array the grizly fpectres rife,
Grin horrible, and obftinately fullen
Pafs and repafs, hufh'd as the foot of night.
Again the fcreech owl fhrieks! ungracious found!
I'll hear no more-it makes my blood run chill!
Quite round the pile, a row of rev'rend elms,
Coeval near with that, all ragged fhew,
Long lash'd by the rude winds: fome rift half down
Their branchlefs trunks; others fo thin at top,
•
H 4


104
THE GRAVE.
That fcarce two crows could lodge in the fame tree.
Strange things the neighbours fay have happen'd
here:
Wild fhrieks have iffued from the hollow tombs,
Dead men have come again, and walk'd about,
And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouch'd.
(Such tales their cheer, at wake or goffiping,
When it draws near to witching time of night.).
Oft in the lone church yard at night I've ſeen,
By glimpſe of moonfhine checq'ring thro' the trees,
The fchool boy, with his fatchel in his hand,
Whiſtling aloud to bear his courage up,
And lightly tripping o'er the long flat ftones,
(With nettles fkirted, and mofs o'ergrown)
That tell in homely phraſe who lie below:
Sudden he ſtarts, and hears-or thinks he hears—
The found of fomething purring at his heels:
Full faft he flies, and dares not look behind,
Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows,
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale


tree.
Sen'd
bs,
d.
-)
en,
ces,


Designed & Engraved by H. Richter.
busy meddling memory,
In barbarous succession musters up
The past endearments of their softer hours,
Tenacious of its theme.
Page 105.
Published Sept. 28.1796. by Vernor & Hood.


THE GRAVE.
105
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghaſtly,
That walks at dead of night, or takes his ftand
O'er fome new open'd Grave—and, ftrange to tell!
He vanishes at crowing of the cock.
The new made widow, too, I've fometimes fpy'd-
Sad fight flow moving o'er the proftrate dead:
Liftlefs, the crawls along in doleful black,
While burfts of forrow gufh from either eye,
Faft falling down her now untafted cheek.
Prone on the lowly Grave of the dear man
She drops; whilft bufy meddling memory,
In barbarous fucceflion mufters up
The paft endearments of their ſofter hours,
Tenacious of its theme. Still, ftill fhe thinks
She fees him, and, indulging the fond thought,
Clings yet more cloſely to the fenfeleſs turf,
Nor heeds the paffenger who looks that way.
Invidious Grave! how doft thou rend in funder
Whom love has knit, and fympathy made one;
A tie more ftubborn far than nature's band!
8


106
THE GRAVE.
Friendſhip! myſterious cement of the ſoul,
Sweet'ner of life, and folder of fociety!
I owe thee much. Thou haft deferv'd from me
Far, far beyond what I can ever pay.
Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love,
And the warm efforts of the gentle heart
Anxious to pleafe. Oh! when my friend and I,
In fome thick wood, have wander'd heedlefs on,
Hid from the vulgar eye, and fat us down
Upon the floping cowflip-cover'd bank,
Where the pure limpid ftream has flid along,
In graceful murmurs thro' the under-wood,
Sweet murmuring! methought the ſhrill-tongu'd
thruth
Mended his fong of love; the footy blackbird
Mellow'd his pipe, and ſoften'd ev'ry note;
The eglantine fmell'd ſweeter; and the rofe
Affum'd a dye more deep; whilſt ev'ry flow'r
Vy'd with its fellow plant in luxury
Of drefs. Oh! then the longeſt ſummer's day


THE GRAVE.
107
Seem'd too, too much in hafte: ftill the full heart
Had not impared half: 'twas happineſs
Too exquifite to laft. Of joys departed
Not to return, how painful the remembrance!
Dull Grave! thou ſpoil'ft the dance of youthful
blood,
Strik'ft out the dimple from the cheek of mirth,
And ev'ry fmirking feature from the face;
Branding our laughter with the name of madneſs.
Where are the jeſters now ? the men of health,
Complexionally pleaſant? where the droll
Whofe ev'ry look and gefture was a joke
To clapping theatres, and gaping crowds,
And made e'en thick-lip'd mufing melancholy
To gather up her face into a ſmile
Before ſhe was aware? Ah! fullen now,
And dumb as the green turf that covers them!
Where are the mighty thunder-bolts of war?
The Roman Cæfars, and the Grecian chiefs,
The boast of ftory? Where the hot-brain'd youth,


108
THE GRAVE.
Who the tiara at his pleaſure tore
From kings of all the then difcover'd globe,
And cry'd forfooth becauſe his arm was hamper'd,
And had not room enough to do its work!
Alas! how flim, difhonourably flim!
And cramm'd into a ſpace we bluſh to name.
Proud royalty! how alter'd are thy looks!
How blank thy features! and how wan thy hue!
Son of the morning! whither art thou gone?
Where haft thou hid thy many fpangled head,
And the majeftic menace of thine eyes,
Felt from afar? Pliant and powerleſs now,
Like new-born infant wound up in his fwathes,
Or victim tumbled flat upon its back,
That throbs beneath the facrificer's knife:
Mute must thou bear the ftrife of little tongues,
And coward inſults of the baſe-born crowd,
That grudge a privilege thou never hadſt,
But only hop'd for in the peaceful Grave,
Of being unmoleſted and alone.
1


THE GRAVE,
109
Arabia's gums and odoriferous drugs,
And honours by the heralds duly paid
In mode and form ev'n to a very fcruple-
O cruel irony!-thefe come too late,
And only mock whom they were meant to honour.
Surely there's not a dungeon flave that's bury'd
In the highway, unfhrouded and uncoffin'd,
But lies as foft, and fleeps as found as he!
Sorry pre-eminence of high defcent,
Above the vulgar born, to rot in ſtate!
But feel the well-plum'd hearfe comes nodding on,
Stately and flow, and properly attended
By the whole fable tribe, who painful watch
The fick man's door, and live upon the dead,
By letting out their perfons by the hour
To mimic forrow, when the heart's not fad.
How rich the trappings, now they're all unfurl'd,
And glitt'ring in the fun! Triumphant entries.
Of conquerors, and coronation pomps,
In glory fcarce exceed. Great gluts of people


110
THE GRAVE.
Retard th' unwieldy ſhow; while from the caſements
And houſes tops, ranks behind ranks cloſe wedg'd
Hang bellying o'er. But tell us, why this wafte?
Why this ado in earthing-up a carcaſe
That's fall'n into difgrace, and to the ſenſe
Smells horrible? Ye undertakers, tell us,
'Midft all the gorgeous figures ye exhibit,
Why is the principal conceal'd, for which
Ye make fuch mighty ftir? 'Tis wifely done:
What would offend the eye in a good picture
The painter cafts diſcreetly into fhades.
Proud lineage! now how little thou appear'ſt
Below the envy of the private man !
Honour, that meddlefome officious ill,
Purſues thee ev'n to death; nor ſtops there ſhort-
Strange perfecution! when the Grave itſelf
Is no protection from rude fufferance.
Abfurd! to think to over-reach the Grave,
And from the wreck of names to reſcue ours!
The beſt concerted ſchemes men lay for fame


THE GRAVE.
111
Die faft away;-only themſelves die faſter.
The far-fam'd ſculptor, and the laurell'd bard,
Thoſe bold inſurancers of deathleſs fame,
Supply their little feeble aids in vain.
The tap'ring pyramid, th' Egyptian's pride,
And wonder of the world, whofe fpiky top
Has wounded the thick cloud, and long outliv'd
The angry thaking of the winter's ftorm;
Yet ſpent at laft by th' injuries of heav'n,
Shatter'd with age, and furrow'd o'er with years,
The myftic cone, with hieroglyphics crufted
Give way.
O lamentable fight! at once
The labour of whole ages lumbers down,
A hideous and miſhapen length of ruins.
Sepulchral columns wreſtle but in vain
With all-fubduing time: his cank'ring hand
With calm delib'rate malice waftes them all :
Worn on the edge of days, the braſs conſumes,
The bufto moulders, and the deep-cut marble,
Unſteady to the fteel, gives up its charge:


112
THE GRAVE.
"
Ambition, half convicted of her folly,
Hangs down her head, and reddens at the tale.
Here all the mighty troublers of the earth,
Who fwam to fov'reign rule thro' ſeas of blood;
Th' oppreffive ſturdy, man-deftroying villains,
Who ravag'd kingdoms, and laid empires wafte,
And in a cruel wantonnefs of pow'r
Thinn'd fiates of half their people, and gave up
The reft to want-now, like a ftorm that's ſpent,
Lie huſh'd, and meanly ſneak behind thy covert.
Vain thought! to hide them from the gen'ral ſcorn
That haunts and dogs them like an injur'd ghoft
Implacable. Here, the petty tyrant,
Who fix'd his iron talons on the poor,
And grip'd them like fome lordly beaft of prey-
Deaf to the forceful cries of gnawing hunger,
And piteous plaintive voice of mifery-
(As if a flave was not a ſhred of nature,
Of the fame common feelings with his lord)
Now, tame and humble, like a child that's whipp'd ·
1


THE GRAVE.
113
Shakes hands with duft, and calls the worm his
kinſman ;
Nor pleads his rank and birthright. Under ground
Precedency's a jeft; vaffal and lord,
Grofsly familiar, fide by fide confume.
When felf-eſteem, or other's adulation,
Would cunningly perfuade us we are ſomething
Above the common level of our kind,
The Grave gainfays the fmooth complexion'd
flatt'ry,
And with blunt truth acquaints us what we are.
Beauty! thou pretty plaything, dear deceit!
That ſteals fo foftly o'er the ftripling's heart,
And gives it a new pulfe, unknown before,
The Grave difcredits thee: thy charms expung'd,
Thy rofes faded, and thy lilies foil'd,
What haft thou more to boaſt of? Will thy lovers
Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage?
Methinks I fee thee with thy head laid low;
Whilft, furfeited upon thy damatk cheek,
I


114
THE GRAVE.
The high-fed worm, in lazy volumes roll'd,
For this was all thy caution?
Riots unfcar'd.
For this thy painful labours at the glaſs,
T'improve thoſe charms, and keep them in repair?
For which the ſpoiler thanks thee not. Foul feeder!
Coarse fare and carrion pleaſe thee full as well,
And leave as keen a reliſh on the ſenſe.
Look, how the fair one weeps! the conſcious tears
Stand thick as dew drops on the bells of flow'rs,
Honeft effufion! the fwoln heart in vain
Labours to put a glofs on its diftrefs.
Strength, too! thou furly and leſs gentle boaft
Of thoſe that laugh loud at the village ring;
A fit of common ſickneſs pulls thee down,
With greater eaſe than e'er thou didst the ſtripling,
That rafhly dar'd thee to th' unequal fight.
What groan was that I heard? Deep groan indeed!
With anguish beavy laden;-let me trace it;
From yonder bed it comes, where the ſtrong man,
By ftronger arm o'erpower'd, gafps for breath


THE GRAVE.
1415
16
Like a hard-hunted beaſt. How his great heart
Beats thick! his roomy cheft by far too fcant
To give the lungs full play! What now avail
The ftrong-built finewy limbs, and well-form'd
fhoulders?
See! how he tugs for life, and lays about him,
Mad with his pain! Eager he catches hold
Of what comes next to hand, and grafps it hard,
Juft like a creature drowning-Hideous fight!
Oh! how his eyes ftand out, and ftare full ghaftly!
While the distemper's rank and deadly venom
Shoots like a burning arrow croſs his bowels,
And drinks his marrow up.-Heard you that groan?
It was his laft. See how the great Goliah,
Just like a child that brawl'd itſelf to reſt,
Lies ftill.-What mean'ft thou then, O mighty
boafter,
Tovaunt of nerves like thine? What means the bull,
Unconscious of his ftrength, to play the coward,
And flee before a feeble thing like man;
I 2


16
THE GRAVE. •
That, knowing well the flackneſs of his arm,
Trufts only in the well-invented knife?
With ftudy pale, and midnight vigils ſpent,
The ſtar-furveying fage cloſe to his eye
Applies the fight-invigorating tube;
And, trav'lling thro' the boundleſs length of ſpace,
Marks well the courſes of the far-feen orbs,
That roll with regular confufion there,
In ecftafy of thought.-But, ah! proud man!
Great heights are hazardous to the weak head:
Soon, very foon, thy firmeft footing fails,
And down thou drop'ft into that dark fome place
Where nor device nor knowledge ever came.
Here the tongue-warrior lies, diſabled now,
Difarm'd, diſhonour'd, like a wretch that's gagg'd,
And cannot tell his ail to paffers by.
Great man of language, whence this mighty change,
This dumb deſpair, and drooping of the head?
Tho' ftrong perfuafion hung upon thy lip,
And fly infinuation's fofter arts
7


THE GRAVE.
117
In ambuſh lay about thy flowing tongue,
Alas! how chop-fall'n now! thick mifts and filence
Reft like a weary cloud upon thy breaſt
Unceafing. Ah! where now's the lifted arm,
The ftrength of action, and the flow of words,
The well turn'd period, and harmonious voice,
With all the leffer ornaments of phraſe?
Ah! fled for ever, as they ne'er had been!
Raz'd from the book of fame! or, what is worſe,
Perhaps fome hackney hunger-bitten fcribbler
Infults thy memory, and blots thy tomb
With long flat narrative, or duller rhimes,
That drawl with heavy-halting pace along,
Enough to rouze a dead man into rage,
And warm with red refentment the wan cheek.
Here the great mafters of the healing art,
Theſe mighty mock-defrauders of the tomb,
Spite of their juleps and catholicons,
Refign to fate. Proud ESCULAPIUS' fon,
Where are the boaſted implements of art,
1 3


118
THE GRAVE.
And all thy well cramm'd magazines of health?
Nor hill, nor vale, as far as ſhip could go,
Nor margin of the gravel-bottom'd brook,
Efcap'd thy rifling hand: from ſtubborn ſhrubs
Thou wrung'ft their ſhy retiring virtues out,
And vex'd them in the fire; nor fly, nor inſect,
Nor writhy fnake, efcap'd thy deep reſearch.
But why this apparatus? why this coft?
Tell us, thou doughty keeper from the Grave,
Where are thy recipes and cordials now,
With the long liſt of vouchers for thy cures?
Alas! thou ſpeakeft not. The bold impofter
Looks not more filly when his cheat's found out.
Here the lank-fided miſer-worft of felons,
Who meanly ſtole (difcreditable ſhift!)
From back and belly too their proper cheer,
Eas'd of a tax it irk'd the wretch to pay
To his own carcafe, now lies cheaply lodg'd,
By clam'rous appetites no longer teaz'd,
Nor tedious bills of charges and repairs.


THE GRAVE.
119
But ah! where are his rents, his comings in?
Now thou haft made the rich man poor indeed!
Robb'd of his gods, what has he left behind?
O curfed luft of gold! how oft for thee
The fool throws up his int'reft in both worlds,
Firſt ſtarv'd in this, then damn'd in that to come!
O death! how fhocking muſt thy fummons be
To him who is at eafe in his poffeffion;
Who, counting on long years of pleaſure here,
Is quite unfurniſh'd for the world to come!
In that dread moment, how the frantic foul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement,
Runs to each avenue, and ſhrieks for help,
But fhrieks in vain! How withfully the looks
On all ſhe's leaving-now no longer hers!
A little longer,-yet a little ſpace!
O might the ſtay to wash away her ftains,
And fit her for her paffage !-Mournful fight!
Her very eyes weep blood; and every groan
She heaves is big with horror: but the foe,
I 4


120
THE GRAVE.
Like a ftaunch murd'rer fteady to his purpoſe,
Purfues her cloſe thro' ev'ry lane of life,
Nor miffes once the track; but preffes on,
Till, forc'd at laft to the tremendous verge,
At once the finks in everlaſting ruin.
Sure 'tis a ferious thing, my foul, to die!
What ftrange moment muſt it be, when near
Thy journey's end thou haft the gulf in view! •
That awful gulf no mortal e'er repafs'd,
To tell what's doing on the further fide.
Nature turns back, and ſhudders at the fight,
And ev'ry life-ſtring bleeds at thought of parting;
For part they muſt: body and ſoul muſt part :
And couple, link'd more cloſe than wedded pair!
This wings its way to its almighty fource,
The witnefs of its actions, now its judge;
That drops into the dark and noifome Grave,
Like a difabled pitcher of no uſe.
If death was nothing, and nought after death,—
If when men dy'd, at once they ceas'd to be,


THE GRAVE.
121
Returning to the barren womb of nothing
Whence firft they fprung,-then might the de-
bauchee
Untrembling mouth the heav'ns: then might the
drunkard
Reel over his full bowl, and when 'tis drain'd
Fill up another to the brim, and laugh
At the poor bug-bear death: then might the wretch
That's weary of the world, and tir'd of life,
At once give each inquietude the flip,
By ſtealing out of being when he pleas'd,
And by what way,-whether by hemp or fteel:
Death's thouſand doors ftand open. Who could force
The ill-pleas'd gueft to fit out his full time,
Or blame him if he goes? Sure he does well
That helps himſelf as timely as he can,
When in his pow'r. But if there's an hereafter,
And that there is, confcience, uninfluenc'd,
And fuffer'd to ſpeak out, tells ev'ry man ;
Then muſt it be an awful thing-to die:


122
THE GRAVE.
More horrid yet, to die by one's own hand.
Self-murder! name it not-our iſland's fhame,
That makes her the reproach of neighb'ring ftates.
Shall Nature, fwerving from her earlieſt dictate,
Self-prefervation, fall by her own act?
Forbid it, Heaven! let not, upon diſguſt,.
The ſhameleſs hand be foully crimſon'd o'er
With blood of his own lord. Dreadful attempt
Juft reeking from felf-flaughter, in a rage
To rush into the prefence of our Judge!
As if we challeng'd him to do his worſt,
And matter'd not his wrath. Unheard-of tortures
Muſt be referv'd for fuch: theſe herd together;
The common damn'd ſhun their ſociety,
And look upon themſelves as fiends lefs foul.
Our time is fix'd, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how fhort we know not: this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the fummons,
Nor dare to ftir 'till Heaven fhall give permiffion:
Like fentries that muſt keep their deftin'd ftand,
1
:


THE GRAVE.
123
And wait th' appointed hour, till they're reliev'd.
Thoſe only are the brave, who keep their ground,
And keep it to the laft. To run away
Is but a coward's trick: to run away
From this world's ills, that at the very worft
Will foon blow o'er, thinking to mend ourſelves
By boldly vent'ring on a world unknown,
And plunging headlong in the dark;-'tis mad:
No frenzy half ſo deſperate as this.
Tell us, ye dead! will none of you, in pity
To thofe you left behind, diſcloſe the ſecret?
O that fome courteous ghoft would blab it out,
What 'tis ye are, and we muſt ſhortly be!
I've heard, that fouls departed have fometimes
Forewarn❜d men of their death :-'twas kindly done
To knock and give the alarm. But what means
This ftinted charity? 'Tis but lame kindneſs
That does its work by halves. Why might you not
Tell us what 'tis to die? Do the ftrict laws
Of your fociety forbid your ſpeaking


124
THE GRAVE.
Upon a point fo nice?-I'll afk no more:
Sullen, like lamps in fepulchres, ye ſhine,
Enlight'ning but yourſelves.-Well-'tis no matter;
A
very little time will clear up all,
And make us learn'd as you are, and as cloſe.
Death's fhafts fly thick. Here falls the village
fwain,
And there his pamper'd lord. The cup goes round;
And who ſo artful as to put it by?
"Tis long fince death had the majority;
Yet ftrange! the living lay it not to heart.
See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The fexton hoary-headed chronicle,
*
Of hard unmeaning face, down which ne'er ftole
A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand
He digs thro' rows of kindred and acquaintance,
By far his juniors; fcarce a fcull's caft
up,
But well he knew its owner, and can tell
Some paffage of his life. Thus hand in hand
The fot has walk'd with death twice twenty years,
•


THE GRAVE.
125
And yet no youngſter on the green laughs louder,
Or tells a fmuttier tale. When drunkards meet,
None fings a merrier catch, nor lends a hand
More willing to his cup. Poor wretch! he minds not
That foon fome trufty brother of the trade
Shall do for him, what he has done for thouſands.
On this fide, and on that, men fee their friends
Drop off, like leaves in autumn; yet launch out
Into fantaſtic ſchemes, which the long livers
In the world's hale and undegen'rate days,
Could fcarce have leifure for. Fools that we are,
Never to think of death, and of ourſelves
At the fame time! as if to learn to die
Were no concern of ours! Oh! more than fottiſh!
For creatures of a day in gameſome mood
To frolic on eternity's dread brink,
Unapprehenfive;-when, for aught we know,
The very firſt ſwoln furge ſhall ſweep us in.
Think we, or think we not, time hurries on
With a refiftlefs unremitting ftream,


126
THE GRAVE.
Yet treads more ſoft than e'er did midnight thief,
That flides his hand under the mifer's pillow,
And carries off his prize. What is this world?
What but a ſpacious burial field, unwall'd,
Strew'd with death's ſpoils, the ſpoils of animals
Savage and tame, and full of dead men's bones?
The very turf on which we tread, once liv'd;
And we that live muft lend our carcafes
To cover our own offspring: in their turns
They too muft cover theirs. 'Tis here all meet:
The fhiv'ring Icelander, and fun-burnt Moor,
Men of all climes, that never met before,
And of all creeds—the Chriſtian, Turk, and Jew.
Here the proud prince, and favourite yet prouder,
His fov'reign's keeper, and the people's fcourge,
Are huddled out of fight. Here lie abaſh'd
The great negociators of the earth,
And celebrated mafters of the balance,
Deep read in ftratagems, and wiles of courts:
Now vain their treaty-fkill; death ſcorns to treat.


THE GRAVE.
127
.
Here the o'erloaded flave flings down his burthen
From his gall'd ſhoulders; and when the cruel ty-
rant,
With all his guards and tools of pow'r about him,
Is meditating fome unheard-of miſchief,
Mocks his fhort arm, and, quick as thought, efcapes
Where tyrants vex not, and the weary reft.
Here the warm lover, leaving the cool fhade,
The tell-tale echo, and the bubbling ftream,
(Time out of mind the fav'rite feats of love)
Faft by his gentle miſtreſs lays him down,
Unblafted by foul tongue. Here friends and foes
Lie cloſe, unmindful of their former feuds.
The lawn-rob'd prelate, and plain preſbyter,
Erewhile that ſtood aloof, as ſhy to meet,
Familiar mingle here, like fifter-ſtreams
That fome rude interpofing rock had ſplit.
Here is the large-limb'd peaſant-here the child
Of a ſpan long, that never ſaw the fun,
Nor prefs'd the nipple, ftrangled in life's porch :


128
THE GRAVE.
Here is the mother, with her fons and daughters;
The barren wife; and long-demurring maid,
Whofe lonely unappropriated fweets
Smil'd like yon knot of cowflips on the cliff,
Not to be come at by the willing hand.
Here are the prude fevere, the gay coquette,
And fober widow ;-and the young green virgin,
Cropp'd like a rofe, before 'tis fully blown,
Or half its worth difclos'd. Strange medley here!
Here garrulous old age winds up his tale;
And jovial youth, of lightſome vacant heart,
Whofe ev'ry day was made of melody,
Hears not the voice of mirth: the fhrill-tongued
fhrew,
Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding.
Here are the wife, the generous, and brave,
The juft, the good, the worthleſs, and profane;
The downright clown, the well-bred gentleman,
The fool, the churl, the liar, and the knave,
The fupple ftateſman, and the patriot fiern;


THE GRAVE.
129
The wrecks of nations, and the ſpoils of time,
With all the lumber of fix thouſand years.
Poor man! how happy once in thy firſt ſtate !
When, yet but warm from thy great Maker's hand,
He ſtamp'd thee with his image, and, well pleas'd,
Smil'd on his laft fair work. Then all was well;—
Sound was the body, and the foul ferene;
Like two ſweet inftruments ne'er out of tune,
That play their feveral parts. Nor head nor heart
Offer'd to ach: nor was there cauſe they ſhould;
For all was pure within: no fell remorſe,
Nor anxious caftings up of what might be,
Alarm'd his peaceful bofom: fummer feas
Shew not more ſmooth, when kifs'd by fouthern
winds
Juft ready to expire. Scarce importun'd,
The gen'rous foil with a luxuriant hand
Offer'd the various produce of the year,
And ev'ry thing moft perfect in its kind.
Bleffed, thrice bleffed days! But, ah! how fhort!
K


130
THE GRAVE.
Blefs'd as the pleaſing dreams of holy men;
But fugitive like thoſe, and quickly gone.
Oh, flipp'ry ſtate of things! What fudden turns,
What ſtrange viciffitudes, in the firſt leaf
Of man's fad hiftory! To-day moſt happy,
And ere to-morrow's fun has fet moſt abject!
How ſcant the ſpace between theſe vaſt extremes'
Thus far'd it with our fire: nor long he enjoy'd
His paradife. Scarce had the happy tenant
Of the fair ſpot due time to prove its ſweets,
Or fum them up; when ftraight he muſt be gone,
Ne'er to return again. And muſt he go?
Can nought compound for the firſt dire offence
Of erring man? Like one that is condemn'd,
Fain would he trifle time with idle talk,
And parley with his fate. But 'tis in vain.
Not all the laviſh odours of the place,
Offer'd in incenfe, can procure his pardon,
Or mitigate his doom. A mighty angel,
With flaming (word, forbids his longer ſtay,


THE GRAVE.
131
And drives the loiterer forth; nor muſt he take
One laft and farewell round. At once he loft
His glory, and his God. If mortal now,
And forely maim'd, no wonder! Man has finn'd.
Sick of his blifs, and bent on new adventures,
Evil he needs would try: nor try'd in vain.
(Dreadful experiment! deftructive meaſure!
Where the worst thing could happen was fuccefs)
Alas! too well he fped: the good he fcorn'd
Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-us'd ghoft,
Not to return; or, if it did, its vifits,
Like thofe of angels, fhort, and far between:
Whilft the black dæmon, with his hell-fcap'd train,
Admitted once into its better room,
Grew loud and mutinous, nor would be gone;
Lording it o'er the man, who now too late
Saw the the raſh error which he could not mend;
An error fatal not to him alone,
But to his future fons, his fortune's heirs.
Inglorious bondage! human nature groans
K 2


132
THE GRAVE.
Beneath a vaffalage ſo vile and cruel,
And its vaft body bleeds at ev'ry pore.
What havoc haft thou made, foul monſter, fin!
Greateſt and firſt of ills! the fruitful parent
Of woes of all dimenfions! But for thee
Sorrow had never been. All noxious things,
Of vileft nature, other forts of ills,
Are kindly circumfcrib'd, and have their bounds.
• The fierce volcano, from its burning entrails
That belches molten ftone and glebes of fire,
Involv'd in pitchy clouds of fmoke and ſtench,
Mars the adjacent fields for fome leagues round,
And there it ſtops. The big-fwoln inundation,
Of mischief more diffufive, raving loud,
Buries whole tracts of country, threat'ning more;
But that too has a fhore it cannot pafs.
More dreadful far than theſe, fin has laid waſte,
Not here and there a country, but a world:
Diſpatching at a wide-extended blow
Entire mankind; and for their fakes defacing


THE GRAVE.
133
A whole creation's beauty with rude hands;
Blafting the foodful grain, the loaded branches,
And marking all along its way with ruin.
Accurfed thing! oh, where fhall fancy find
A proper name to call thee by, expreffive
Of all thy horrors? Pregnant womb of ills!
Of temper fo tranfcendently malign,
That toads and ferpents of the moſt deadly kind,
Compar'd to thee, are harmleſs. Sickneffes
Of ev'ry fize and fymptom, racking pains,
And blueft plagues, are thine. See how the fiend
Profufely ſcatters the contagion round!
Whilft deep-mouth'd flaughter, bellowing at her
heels,
Wades deep in blood new fpilt; yet for to-morrow
Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring,
And inly pines till the dread blow is ftruck.
But hold-I've gone too far; too much diſclos'd
My father's nakednefs, and nature's fhame.
Here let me pauſe, and drop an honeſt tear,
K 3


134
THE GRAVE.
One burst of filial duty and condolence,
O'er all the ample defarts death hath ſpread!
This chaos of mankind. O great man-eater
Whofe ev'ry day is carnival, not fated yet!
Unheard of epicure! without a fellow!
The verieft gluttons do not always cram ;
Some intervals of abftinence are fought
To edge the appetite: thou ſeekeſt none.
Methinks the countleſs ſwarms thou haft devour'd,
And thoufands that each hour thou gobbleft up,
This, lefs than this, might gorge thee to the full :
But, ah! rapacious ftill, thou gap'ft for more;
Like one whole days defrauded of his meals,
On whom lank hunger lays his fkinny hand,
And whets to keeneſt eagerneſs his cravings,
(As if diſeaſes, maffacres, and poiſon,
Famine and war, were not thy caterers !)
But know, that thou muſt render up thy dead,
And with high int'reft too! They are not thine,
But only in thy keeping for a ſeaſon,


THE GRAVE.
135
Till the great promis'd day of reftitution!
When loud diffufive founds from brazen trump
Of ftrong-lung'd cherubs fhall alarm thy captives,
And roufe the long, long fleepers into life.
Then muſt thy gates fly open, and reveal
The mines that long lay forming underground,
In their dark cells immur'd; but now full ripe,
And pure as filver from the crucible,
That twice has ſtood the torture of the fire
And inquifition of the forge. We know
Th' illuftrious deliv'rer of mankind,
The Son of GOD, once vanquish'd thee. His pow'r
Thou could'ft not ftand: ſelf-vigorous he roſe,
And, fhaking off thy fetters, foon retook
Thoſe ſpoils his voluntary yielding lent.
(Sure pledge of our releaſement from thy thrall;)
Twice twenty days he fojourn d here on earth,
And thew'd himfelf alive to chofen witneffes,
By proofs fo ftrong, that the moſt flow affenting
Had not a fcruple left. This having done,
K 4


136
THE GRAVE.
He mounted up to heav'n. Methinks I fee him
Climb the aërial heights, and glide along
Acroſs the fevering clouds: but the faint eye,
Thrown backwards in the chafe, foon drops its hold,
Diſabled quite, and jaded with purſuing.
Heaven's portals wide expand to let him in ;
Nor are his friends fhut out: as fome great prince
Not for himſelf alone procures admiffion,
But for his train; it was his royal will,
That where HE is, there fhould his followers be.
Death only lies between ;-a gloomy path!
Made yet more gloomy by our coward fears!
But not untrod, nor tedious: the fatigue
Will foon go off. Befides, there's no by-road
To blifs. Then why, like ill-condition'd children,
Start we at tranfient hardſhips, in the way
That leads to purer air and fofter ikies,
And a ne'er-fetting fun? Fools that we are!
We wish to be where fweets unfading bloom;
But ftraight our wifh revoke, and will not go.


THE GRAVE.
137
So have I feen upon a fummer's eve,
Cloſe by the riv'let's brink, a youngſter play:
How wishfully he looks to ſtem the tide,
This moment refolute, next unrefolv'd:
At laft he dips his foot; but, as he dips,
His fears redouble, and he runs away
From th' inoffenfive ftream, unmindful now
Of all the flow'rs that paint the further bank,
And fmil'd fo fweet of late. Thrice welcome death!
That after many a painful bleeding ſtep
Conducts us to our home, and lands us fafe
On the long with'd-for fhore. Prodigious change!
Our bane turn'd to a bleffing! Death difarm'd
Lofes his fellneſs quite. All thanks to HIM
Who fcourg'd the venom out. Sure the last end
Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit !
The night-dews fall not gentlier to the ground,
Nor weary worn out winds expire ſo ſoft.
Behold him in the ev'ning-tide of life,-
A life well ſpent, whofe early care it was
-


138
THE GRAVE.
His riper years ſhould not upbraid his youth :
By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away;
Yet like the fun feems larger at his ſetting!
High in his faith and hopes, look how he ſtrives
To gain the prize in view! and, like a bird
That's hamper'd, ftruggles hard to get away!
Whilft the glad gates of fight are wide expanded
To let new glories in, the firſt fair fruits
Of the firſt coming harveſt. Then ; oh then!
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or diſappears,
Shrunk to a thing of nought. Oh! how he longs
To have his paffport fign'd, and be diſmiſs'd!
'Tis done-and now he's happy :-the glad foul
Has not a with uncrown'd. Ev'n the lag fleſh
Refts too in hope of meeting once again
Its better half, never to funder more.
Nor fhall it hope in vain: the time draws on
When not a fingle fpot of burial earth,
Whether on land, or in the fpacious fea,
But muft give back its long committed duft


THE GRAVE.
139
Inviolate and faithfully fhall theſe
Make up the full account: not the leaſt atom
Embezzled, or miflaid, of the whole tale;
Each foul fhall have a body ready finiſh'd,
And each fhall have his own. Hence, ye profane,
Afk not, how this can be? Sure the fame Pow'r
That rear'd the piece at firft, and took it down,
Can reaffemble the looſe ſcatter'd parts,
And put them as they were. Almighty GoD
Has done much more; nor is his arm impair'd
Thro' length of days, and what he CAN,
he WILL:
His faithfulneſs ſtands bound to ſee it done.
When the dread trumpet founds, the flumb'ring duft,
Not inattentive to the call, fhall wake;
And ev'ry joint poffefs its proper place
With a new elegance of form, unknown
To its firft ftate. Nor fhall the conſcious foul
Miſtake its partner; but, amidſt the crowd
Singling its other half, into its arms
Shall rush, with all th' impatience of a man


140
THE GRAVE.
That's new come home,who,having long been abfent,
With hafte runs over ev'ry different room,
In pain to ſee the whole. Thrice happy meeting!
Nor time, nor death, fhall ever part them more.
'Tis but a night, a long and moonleſs night,
We make the grave our bed, and then are gone,
Thus, at the ſhut of eve, the weary bird
Leaves the wide air, and in ſome lonely brake
Cow'rs down, and dozes till the dawn of day,
Then claps his well-fledg'd wings, and bears away.


ELEGY,
WRITTEN
IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.


1
1


ELEGY,
WRITTEN
IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.
BY MR. GRAY.
THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds flowly o'er the lea;
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkneſs and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landſcape on the fight,
And all the air a folemn ſtillneſs holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowſy tinklings lull the diftant folds;


144
ELEGY.
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of fuch as, wand'ring near her fecret bower,
Moleft her ancient, folitary reign.
Beneath thoſe rugged elms, that yew-tree's fhade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep.
The breezy call of incenſe-breathing morn,
The ſwallow twitt'ring from the ſtraw-built ſhed,
The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more ſhall rouſe them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth ſhall burn,
Or bufy houſewife ply her ev'ning care;
No children run to lifp their fire's return,
Or climb his knees, the envied kifs to fhare.
7
1


ELEGY.
145
Oft did the harveſt to their fickle yield;
Their furrow oft the ftubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive the teams a-field!
How bow'd the woods beneath their ſturdy ſtroke 1.
Let not ambition mock their uſeful toil,
Their homely joys, and deftiny obſcure;
Nor grandeur hear, with a difdainful fmile,
The ſhort and fimple annals of the poor.
The beaft of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th' inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to theſe the fault,
If mem❜ry o'er their tomb no trophies raiſe,
Where, thro' the long-drawn aiſle and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem fwells the note of praiſe.
L


146
ELEGY.
Can ftoried urn, or animated buft,
Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provoke the filent duſt ?
Or flatt'ry footh the dull, cold ear of death?
Perhaps in this neglected ſpot is laid
Some heart, once pregnant with celeſtial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have fway'd,
Or wak'd to eeftafy the living lyre.
But knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the ſpoils of time, did ne'er unrol;
Chill penury repreſs'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the ſoul.
Full many a gem of pureft ray ferene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to bluſh unſeen,
And wafte its ſweetnefs on the defert air.


ELEGY.
147
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breaſt
The little tyrant of his fields withſtood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may reft,
Some Cromwell guiltleſs of his country's blood,
Th' applauſe of lift'ning fenates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to deſpiſe,
To ſcatter plenty o'er a finiling land,
And read their hift'ry in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbade-nor circumfcrib'd alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd;
Forbad to wade through flaughter to a throne,
And ſhut the gates of mercy on mankind;
The ftruggling pangs of conſcious truth to hide,
To quench the bluſhes of ingenuous fhame,
Or heap the fhrine of luxury and pride,
With incenfe kindled at the mufes' flame.
L 2


148
ELEGY.!
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble ftrife,
Their fober wiſhes never learn'd to ftray;
Along the cool fequefter'd vale of life
They kept the noiſeleſs tenor of their way.
Yet e'en theſe bones, from infult to protect,
Some frail memorial ſtill erected nigh,
With uncouth rhimes and fhapeleſs ſculpture deck'd,
Implores the paffing tribute of a figh.
Their name, their years, ſpelt by th' unletter'd mufe,
Their place of fame and elegy ſupply;
And many a holy text around the ftrews,
That teach the ruſtic moralift to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulneſs a prey,
This pleafing anxious being e'er refign'd;
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor caft one longing ling'ring look behind?
}





Designed & Engraved by H. Richter.
There, at the foot of yonder nodding beach,
That wreaths its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch
And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.
Published Sept. 28, 1796, by Vernor & Hood.
1
•


ELEGY.
149
On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the clofing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our afhes live their wonted fires.
For thee who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Doft in theſe lines their artleſs tales relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit ſhould inquire thy fate:
Haply fome hoary-headed fwain may ſay,
"Oft have we ſeen him, at the peep of dawn,
"Bruſhing with hafty ſteps the dews away,
"To meet the fun upon the upland lawn.
"There, at the foot of yonder nodding beach,
"That wreathes its old fantaſtic roots fo high,
"His liftlef's length at noon-tide would he ſtretch,
"And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.
L 3


150
ELEGY.
"Hard by yon wood, now ſmiling as in fcorn,
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;
"Now drooping woful wan, like one forlorn,
"Or craz'd with care, or crofs'd in hopeleſs love.
""
"One morn I miſs'd him on the 'cuftom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:
"Another came; nor yet befide the rill,
"Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
""
"The next, with dirges due, in fad array,
"Slow thro' the churchway path we ſaw him borne.
"Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
"Grav'd on the ftone beneath yon aged thorn."
THE EPITAPH.
HERE refts his head upon the lap of earth,
A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown;
Fair ſcience frown'd not on his humble birth,
And melancholy mark'd him for her own.
9
8


ELEGY.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
1
Heaven did a recompenfe as largely ſend ;
He gave to mifery all he had, a tear;
He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wifh'd) a friend.
No further feek his merits to diſcloſe,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repoſe)
The bofom of his Father and his God.
151
L 4


P
"}


THE HERMIT
OF WARKWORTH.


I


THE
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH,
BY THE REV. DR. PERCY.
PART 1.
DARK
was the night, and wild the ſtorm,
And loud the torrent's roar ;
And loud the fea was heard to daſh
Againſt the diftant ſhore.
Mufing on man's weak haplefs ftate
The lonely Hermit lay;
When, lo! he heard a female voice
Lament in fore diſmay.


156
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
With hofpitable hafte he rofe,
And, wak'd his fleeping fire;
And, fnatching up a lighted brand,
Forth hied the reverend fire.
All fad beneath a neighbouring tree
A beauteous maid he found,
Who beat her breaft, and with her tears
Bedew'd the moffy ground.
O weep not, lady, weep not fo,
Nor let vain fears alarm;
My little cell ſhall ſhelter thee,
And keep thee ſafe from harm.
It is not for myſelf I weep,
Nor for myſelf I fear;
But for my dear and only friend,
Who lately left me here :
?


Designed & Engraved by H. Richter.
All sad beneath a neighbouring Tree,
A beauteous Maid he found,
Who beat her breast & with her tears.
Bedew'd the mossy ground :
Publish'd Aug:6.1796, by Vernor & Hood.


1
#


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
157
And while ſome ſheltering bower he fought
Within this lonely wood,
Ah! fore I fear his wandering feet
Have flipt in yonder flood.
O truft in Heav'n, the Hermit faid,
And to my cell repair;
Doubt not but I shall find thy friend,
And eaſe thee of thy care.
Then, climbing up his rocky ſtairs,
He ſcales the cliff fo high;
And calls aloud, and waves his light,
To guide the ſtranger's eye.
Among the thickets long he winds,
With careful ſteps and flow :
At length a voice return'd his call,
Quick anſwering from below.
}


158
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
O tell me, father, tell me true,
If you have chanc'd to ſee
A gentle maid, I lately left
Beneath fome neighbouring trec.
But either I have loft the place,
Or the hath gone aftray :
And much I fear this fatal ftream
Hath fnatch'd her hence away.
Praiſe Heaven, my fon, the Hermit faid,
The lady's fafe and well :
And foon he join'd the wand'ring youth,
And brought him to his cell.
Then well was feen theſe gentle friends
They lov'd each other dear:
The youth he prefs'd her to his heart;
The maid let fall a tear.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
159
Ah! feldom had their hoft, I ween,
Beheld fo fweet a pair:
The youth was tall, with manly bloom;
She flender, foft, and fair.
The youth was clad in foreſt green,
With bugle horn ſo bright;
She in a filken robe and ſcarf,
Snatch'd up in hafty flight.
Sit down, my children, fays the fage;
Sweet reft your limbs require :
Then heaps freſh fewel on the hearth,
And mends his little fire.
Partake, he ſaid, my fimple ſtore,
Dried fruits, and milk, and curds;
And, fpreading all upon the board,
Invites with kindly words.
}


160
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Thanks, father, for thy bounteous fare,
The youthful couple ſay:
Then freely ate, and made good cheer,
And talk'd their cares away.
Now fay, my children (for perchance
My counſel may avail)
What ftrange adventure brought you here
Within this lonely dale?
Firft tell me, father, faid the youth,
(Nor blame mine eager tongue)
What town is here? what lands are theſe?
And to what lord belong?
Alas! my fon, the Hermit faid,
Why do I live to ſay,
The rightful lord of theſe domains
Is baniſh'd far away!
1
1


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
161
#
Ten winters now have fhed their ſnows
On this my lowly hall,
Since valiant HOTSPUR (fo the North
Our youthful lord did call)
Against Fourth HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Led up his northern powers,
And ftoutly fighting loft his life
Near proud Salopia's towers.
One fon he left, a lovely boy,
His country's hope and heir;
And oh! to fave him from his foes,
It was his grandfire's care.
In Scotland fafe he plac'd the child,
Beyond the reach of ftrife,
Nor long before the brave old Earl
At Bramham loft his life.
M


162
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
And now the PERCY name, fo long
Our northern pride and boaſt,
Lies hid, alas! beneath a cloud,
Their honours reft and loft.
No chieftain of that noble house
Now leads our youth to arms;
The bordering Scots defpoil our fields,
And ravage all our farms.
Their halls and caftles, once fo fair,
Now moulder in decay;
Proud ftrangers now ufurp their lands,
And bear their wealth away.
Nor far from hence, where yon full ftream
Runs winding down the lea,
Fair Warkworth lifts her lofty tow'rs,
And overlooks the fea.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
163
Thoſe towers, alas! now ftand forlorn,
With noifome weeds o'erfpread,
Where feafted lords and courtly dames,
And where the poor were fed.
Meantime far off, mid Scottiſh hills,
The PERCY lives unknown:
On ftrangers' bounty he depends,
And may not claim his own.
O might I with theſe aged eyes
But live to fee him here,
Then fhould my foul depart in bliſs!
He ſaid, and dropt a tear.
And is the PERCY ftill fo lov'd,
Of all his friends and thee?
Then, blefs me, father, faid the youth,
For thy gueft am He.
M 2


1.64
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Silent he gaz'd, then turn'd aſide
To wipe the tears he ſhed;
Then, lifting up his hands and eyes,
Pour'd bleffings on his head :
Welcome, our dear and much-lov'd lord,
Thy country's hope and care:
But who may this young lady be
That is fo wondrous fair?
Now, father, liften to my tale,
And thou shalt know the truth;
And let thy fage advice direct
My unexperienc'd youth.
In Scotland I've been nobly bred
Beneath the regent's hand,
In feats of arms, and every lore
To fit me for command.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
165
With fond impatience long I burn'd
My native land to fee:
At length I won my guardian friend
To yield that boon to me.
Then
up and down in hunter's garb
I wander'd as in chaſe,
Till in the noble NEVILLE's houſe
I gain'd a hunter's place.
Some time with him I liv'd unknown,
Till I'd the hap fo rare
To pleaſe this young and gentle dame,
That baron's daughter fair.
Now, PERCY, faid the bluſhing maid,
The truth I muſt reveal:
Souls great and generous, like to thine,
Their noble deeds conceal.
M 3


166
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
It happen'd on a fummer's day,
Led by the fragrant breeze,
I wander'd forth to take the air,
Among the green-wood trees:
Sudden a band of rugged Scots,
That near in ambuſh lay,
Mofs-troopers from the border-fide,
There feiz'd me for their prey.
My fhrieks had all been ſpent in vain,
But Heaven, that ſaw my grief,
Brought this brave youth within my call,
Who flew to my relief.
With nothing but his hunting fpear,
And dagger in his hand,
He fprung like lightning on my foes,
And caus'd them foon to ſtand.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
167
He fought till more affiftance came;
The Scots were overthrown:
Thus freed me, captive, from their bands,
To make me more his own.
O happy day! the youth replied:
Bleft were the wounds I bare!
From that fond hour fhe deign'd to ſmile,
And listen to my prayer.
And when the knew my name and birth,
She vow'd to be my bride;
But oh! we fear'd (alas, the while!)
Her princely mother's pride:
Sifter of haughty BOLINGBROKE,
Our houfe's ancient foe,
To me I thought, a banifh'd wight,
Could ne'er fuch favour fhew.
M 4


168
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Deſpairing then to gain confent,
At length to fly with me,
I won this lovely timorous maid;
To Scotland bound are we.
This evening, as the night drew on,
Fearing we were purfu'd,
We turn'd adown the right-hand path,
And gain'd this lonely wood.
Then lighting from our weary ſteeds,
To fhun the pelting ſhower,
We met thy kind conducting hand,
And reach'd this friendly bower.
Now reft ye both, the Hermit faid;
Awhile your cares forego :
Nor, lady, fcorn my humble bed :
-We'll pafs the night below.
T


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
169
PART II.
LOVELY fmil'd the bluſhing morn,
And every ftorm was fled,
But lovelier far, with ſweeter ſmile,
Fair ELEANOR left her bed.
She found her HENRY all alone,
And cheer'd him with her fight;
The youth, confulting with his friend,
Had watch'd the livelong night.
What ſweet furprife o'erpower'd her breaſt!
Her cheek what bluſhes dy'd,
When fondly he befought her there
To yield to be his bride.


170
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Within this lonely hermitage
There is a chapel meet:
Then grant, dear maid, my fond requeft,
And make my blifs complete.
O HENRY, when thou deign'ft to fue,
Can I thy fuit withſtand?
When thou, lov'd youth, haft won my heart,
Can I refuſe my hand?
For thee I left a father's fmiles,
And mother's tender care;
And, whether weal or woe betide,
Thy lot I mean to ſhare.
And wilt thou then, O generous maid,
Such matchless favour ſhew,
To fhare with me, a baniſh'd wight,
My peril, pain, or woe?
8


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
171
Now Heaven, I truft, hath joys in flore
To crown thy conftant breaſt:
For know, fond hope affures my heart
That we fhall foon be bleft.
Not far from hence ftands Coquet Ifle,
Surrounded by the fea;
There dwells a holy friar, well known
To all thy friends and thee:
'Tis father Bernard, ſo revered
For every worthy deed;
To Raby caftle he thall go,
And for us kindly plead.
To fetch this good and holy man
Our reverend hoft is gone;
And foon, I truft, his pious hands
Will join us both in one.


172
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Thus they in ſweet and tender talk
The lingering hours beguile :
At length they ſee the hoary fage
Come from the neighbouring ifle.
With pious joy and wonder mix'd,
He greets the holy pair,
And glad confents to join their hands,
With
many a fervent prayer.
Then ſtraight to Raby's diftant walls
He kindly wends his
way;
Meantime in love and dalliance fweet
They spend the livelong day.
And now, attended by their hoſt,
The hermitage they view'd,
Deep hewn within a craggy cliff,
And overhung with wood.
•


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
173
And near a flight of ſhapely ſteps,
All cut with niceſt ſkill,
And piercing thro' a ftony arch,
Ran winding up the hill.
There, deck'd with many a flower and herb,
His little garden ſtands;
With fruitful trees in fhady rows,
All planted by his hands.
Then, fcoop'd within the folid rock,
Three facred vaults he fhows;
The chief a chapel, neatly arch'd,
On branching columns roſe.
Each proper ornament was there,
That ſhould a chapel grace:
The lattice for confeffion fram'd,
And holy-water vafe.
I


174
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
O'er either door a facred text
Invites to godly fear;
And in a little 'fcutcheon hung
The cross, the crown, and fpear.
Up to the altar's ample breadth
Two eaſy ſteps afcend;
And near a glimmering folemn light
Two well-wrought windows lend.
Befide the altar rofe a tomb
All in the living ſtone;
On which a young and beauteous maid
In goodly fculpture fhone.
A kneeling angel fairly carv'd
Lean'd hovering o'er her breaſt;
A weeping warrior at her feet;
And near to thefe her creft.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
175
The cliff, the vault, but chief the tomb,
Attract the wond'ring pair;
Eager they ask what hapless dame
Lies fculptured here fo fair.
The Hermit figh'd, the Hermit wept,
For forrow ſcarce could ſpeak:
At length he wip'd the trickling tears
That all bedew'd his cheek;
Alas! my children, human life
Is but a vale of woe;
And very mournful is the tale
Which ye fo fain would know.


176
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
THE HERMIT'S TALE.
YOUNG lord, thy grandfire had a friend.
In days of youthful fame;
Yon diftant hills were his domains;
Sir BERTRAM was his name.
Where'er the noble PERCY fought
His friend was at his fide;
And many a fkirmiſh with the Scots
Their early valour try'd.
Young BERTRAM lov'd a beauteous maid,
As fair as fair might be;
The dew-drop on the lily's cheek,
Was not fo fair as the.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
177
Fair WIDDRINGTON the maiden's name;
Yon tower's her dwelling place;
Her fire an old Northumbrian chief,
Devoted to thy race.
Many a lord, and many a knight,
To this fair damfel came;
But BERTRAM was her only choice;
For him the felt a flame.
Lord PERCY pleaded for his friend,
Her father foon confents;
None but the beauteous maid herſelf
His wiſhes now prevents.
But ſhe with ftudied fond delays
Defers the bliſsful hour;
And loves to try his conftancy,
And prove her maiden power.
N


178
HERMIT OF WARKWOKTH.
That heart, ſhe ſaid, is lightly priz'd,
Which is too lightly won;
And long fhall rue that eaſy maid
Who yields her love too foon.
Lord PERCY made a folemn feaft
In Alnwick's princely hall;
And there came lords, and there came knights,
His chiefs and barons all.
With waffel mirth and revelry
The caftle rung around;
Lord PERCY call'd for fong and harp,
And pipes of martial found.
The minstrels of thy noble houfe,
All clad in robes of blue,
With filver creſcents on their arms,
Attend in order due.
•


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
179
The great achievements of thy race
They fung: their high command:
How valiant Mainfred o'er the feas
Firſt led his northern band.
< Brave Gilfred next to Normandy
'With venturous Rollo came;
✓
V
And from his Norman caftles won
'Affum'd the PERCY name.'
They fung how in the Conqueror's fleet
'Lord William ſhipp'd his powers,
And gain'd a fair young Saxon bride
"With all her lands and towers:
6
Then, journeying to the holy land,
There bravely fought and dy'd;
• But firſt the filver creſcent won,
• Some Paynim Soldan's pride.'
N 2


180
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
They fung 'how Agnus, beauteous heir,
'The queen's own brother wed,
Lord Jofceline, ſprung from Charlemagne,
'In princely Brabant bred.
How he the PERCY name reviv'd,
· And how his noble line,
• Still foremoſt in their country's cauſe,
'With godlike ardour ſhine.'
With loud acclaims the liftening crowd
Applaud the maſters' ſong,
And deeds of arms and war became
The theme of every tongue.
Now high heroic acts they tell,
Their perils paft recall :
When, lo! a damfel young and fair
Stepp'd forward thro' the hall.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
181
She BERTRAM Courteouſly addrefs'd;
And kneeling on her knee ;-
Sir knight, the lady of thy love
Hath fent this gift to thee.
Then forth the drew a glittering helme
Well plated many a fold:
The cafque was wrought of tempered ſteel,
The creft of burniſh'd gold.
Sir knight, thy lady fends thee this,
And yields to be thy bride,
When thou haft prov'd this maiden gift
Where ſharpeft blows are try'd.
Young BERTRAM took the fhining helme,
And thrice he kiſs'd the fame;
Truft me, I'll prove this precious cafque
With deeds of nobleft fame.
N 3


182
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Lord PERCY and his barons bold
Then fix'd upon a day
To fcour the marches, late oppreſs'd,
And Scottish wrongs repay.
The knights affembled on the hills
A thouſand horſe and more;
Brave WIDDRINGTON, tho' funk in years,
The PERCY-ftandard bore.
Tweed's limpid current foon they paſs,
And range the borders round;
Down the green flopes of Tiviotdale
Their bugle horns refound.
As when a lion in his den
Hath heard the hunters' cries,
And rushes forth to meet his foes,
So did the DOUGLAS rife.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
183
Attendant on their chief's command
A thouſand warriors wait;
And now the fatal hour drew on
Of cruel keen debate.
A chofen troop of Scottiſh youths
Advance before the reft;
Lord PERCY mark'd their gallant mien,
And thus his friend addrefs'd:-
Now, BERTRAM, prove thy lady's helme,
Attack yon forward band;
Dead or alive, I'll refcue thee,
Or perish by their hand.
Young BERTRAM bow'd with glad affent,
And fpurr'd his eager fteed,
And, calling on his lady's name,
Rush'd forth with whirlwind ſpeed.
N 4


184
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
As when a grove of fapling oaks
The livid lightning rends,
So fiercely, 'mid the oppofing ranks,
Sir BERTRAM's fword defcends.
This way and that he drives the ſteel,
And keenly pierces through;
And many a tall and comely knight
With furious force he flew.
Now, clofing faſt on every fide,
They hem Sir BERTRAM round:
But dauntless he repels their rage,
And deals forth many a wound.
The vigour of his fingle arm
Had well nigh won the field;
When ponderous fell a Scottiſh axe,
And clove his lifted fhield.
}


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
185
Another blow his temples took,
And reft his helme in twain;
That beauteous helme his lady's gift!
His blood bedew'd the plain.
Lord PERCY faw his champion fall
Amid the unequal fight;
And now, my noble friends, he ſaid,
Let's fave this gallant knight.
Then rushing in, with ftretch'd-out ſhield
He o'er the warrior hung;
As fome fierce eagle ſpreads her wing
To guard her callow young.
Three times they ſtrove to ſeize their prey,
Three times they quick retire:
What force could ftand his furious ſtrokes,
Or meet his martial fire?


186
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Now, gathering round on every part,
The battle rag'd amain;
And many a lady wept her lord
That hour untimely flain.
PERCY and DOUGLAS, great in arms,
There all their courage fhow'd;
And all the field was ftrew'd with dead,
And all with crimſon flow'd.
At length the glory of the day
The Scots reluctant yield,
And after wondrous valour ſhown,
They flowly quit the field.
All pale, extended on their fhields,
And weltering in his gore,
Lord PERCY's knights their bleeding friend
To Wark's fair caftle bore.
8


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
187
Well haft thou earn'd my daughter's love,
Her father kindly faid;
And the herſelf ſhall dreſs thy wounds,
And tend thee in thy bed.
A meffage went, no daughter came;
Fair ISABEL ne'er appears:
Befhrew me, faid the aged chief,
Young maidens have their fears.
Cheer up, my fon, thou fhalt her fee
So foon as thou canst ride;
And the ſhall nurſe thee in her bower,
And ſhe ſhall be thy bride.
Sir BERTRAM at her name reviv'd,
He blefs'd the foothing found;
Fond hope fupplied the nurfe's care,
And heal'd his ghastly wound.


188
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
PART III.
ONE early morn, while dewy drops.
Hung trembling on the tree,
Sir BERTRAM from his fick bed rofe,
His bride he would go fee.
A brother he had in prime of youth,
Of courage firm and keen,
And he would tend him on the
way,
Becaufe his wounds were green.
All day o'er mofs and moor they rode
By many a lonely tower;
And 'twas the dew-fall of the night
Ere they drew near her bower.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
189
Moſt drear and dark the caſtle ſeem'd,
That wont to ſhine ſo bright;
And long and loud Sir BERTRAM call'd
Ere he beheld a light.
At length her aged nurſe aroſe
With voice fo fhrill and clear:
What wight is this, that calls fo loud,
And knocks fo boldly here?
'Tis BERTRAM calls thy lady's love,
Come from his bed of care:
All day I've ridden o'er moor and mofs
To fee thy lady fair.
Now out, alas! (fhe loudly fhriek'd)
Alas! how may this be?
For fix long days are gone and paſt
Since the fet out to thee.


190
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Sad terror feiz'd Sir BERTRAM's heart,
And ready was he to fall;
When now the drawbridge was let down,
And gates were open'd all.
Six days, young knight, are paſt and gone
Since he fet out to thee;
And fure, if no ſad harm had hap'd,
Long fince thou would'ſt her fee.
For when the heard thy grievous chance
She tore her hair, and cried,
Alas! I've flain the comelieſt knight
All thro' my folly and pride!
And now, to atone for my fad fault,
And his dear health regain,
I'll go myſelf and nurſe my love,
And footh his bed of pain.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
191
Then mounted fhe her milk-white fteed
One morn at break of day;
And two tall yeomen went with her
To guard her on the way.
Sad terror fmote Sir BERTRAM's heart,
And grief o'erwhelm'd his mind;
Truft me, faid he, I ne'er will reft
Till I thy lady find.
That night he ſpent in forrow and care,
And with fad boding heart,
Or ere the dawning of the day
His brother and he depart.
Now, brother, we'll our ways divide,
O'er Scottiſh hills to range:
Do thou go north, and I'll go weſt ;
And all our dress we'll change.


192
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Some Scottiſh carle hath feiz'd my love,
And borne her to his den;
And ne'er will I tread English ground
Till fhe is reſtored agen.
The brothers ftraight their paths divide
O'er Scottiſh hills to range,
And hide themſelves in quaint diſguiſe,
And oft their drefs they change.
Sir BERTRAM, clad in gown of
Moſt like a palmer poor,
To halls and caſtles wanders round,
And begs from door to door.
gray,
Sometimes a minstrel's garb he wears,
With pipes fo fweet and fhrill;
And wends to every tower and town,
O'er every dale and hill.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
193
One day, as he fat under a thorn,
All funk in deep deſpair,
An aged pilgrim paſs'd him by,
Who mark'd his face of care.
All minstrels yet that e'er I ſaw
Are full of game and glee,
But thou art fad and woe-begone!
I marvel whence it be !
Father, I ferve an aged Lord,
Whofe grief afflicts my mind;
His only child is ſtol'n away,
And fain I would her find.
Cheer up, my fon; perchance, he ſaid,
Some tidings I may bear :
For oft when human hopes have fail'd,
Then heavenly comfort's near.


194
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH,
Behind yon hills fo fteep and high,
Down in a lowly glen,
There ftands a caftle fair and ftrong,
Far from th' abode of men.
As late I chanc'd to crave an alms
About this evening hour,
Methought I heard a lady's voice
Lamenting in the tower.
And when I afk'd, what harm had hap'd,
What lady fick there lay?
They rudely drove me from the gate,
And bade me wend away.
Theſe tidings caught Sir BERTRAM's ear,
He thank'd him for his tale;
And foon he haſted o'er the hills,
And foon he reach'd the vale.
4
I


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
195
Then, drawing near thofe lonely towers,
Which ſtood in dale ſo low,
And fitting down befide the gate,
His pipes he 'gan to blow.
Sir Porter, is thy lord at home,
To hear a minstrel's fong?
Or may I crave a lodging here,
Without offence or wrong?
My lord, he ſaid, is not at home
To hear a minstrel's fong:
And ſhould I lend thee lodgings here
My life would not be long.
He play'd again, ſo ſoft a ſtrain,
Such power fweet founds impart,
He won the churlish porter's ear,
And mov'd his ftubborn heart.
© 2


196
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
Minstrel, he ſaid, thou play'ft ſo ſweet,
Fair entrance thou ſhould'ſt win;
But, alas! I am fworn upon the rood
To let no ftranger in.
Yet, minstrel, in yon riſing cliff
Thou'lt find a fheltering cave,
And here thou shalt my ſupper ſhare,
And there thy lodging have.
All day he fits befide the gate,
And pipes both loud and clear;
All night he watches round the walls,
In hopes his love to hear.
The first night, as he filent watch'd,
All at the midnight hour,
He plainly heard his lady's voice
Lamenting in the tower.


Designed & Engraved by H. Richter.
The second night the moon shone clear,
And gilt the spangled dew,
He
his Lady thro' the grate
But twas a transient view:
saw
Publife'd Aug:6.1796, by Vernor & Hood


1


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
197
The fecond night the moon fhone clear,
And gilt the ſpangled dew;
He faw his lady thro' the grate,
But 'twas a tranfient view.
The third night, wearied out, he ſlept
Till near the morning tide;
When, ftarting up, he feiz'd his fword,
And to the caftle hy'd.
When, lo! he faw a ladder of
Depending from the wall;
And o'er the mote was newly laid
A poplar ftrong and tall.
ropes
And foon he faw his love defcend
Wrapt in a tartan plaid :
Affifted by a ſturdy youth
In Highland garb y-clad.
Q 3


198
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH,
Amaz'd, confounded at the fight,
He lay unfeen and ftill;
And foon he faw them croſs the ſtream,
And mount the neighbouring hill.
Unheard, unknown of all within,
The youthful couple fly;
But what can 'fcape the lover's ken,
Or fhun his piercing eye?
With filent ſtep he follows clofe
Behind the flying pair,
And faw her hang upon his arm,
With fond familiar air.
Thanks, gentle youth, fhe often faid;
My thanks thou well haft won:
For me what wiles haft thou contriv'd l
For me what danger run!


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
199
And ever fhall my grateful heart
Thy fervices repay :·
Sir BERTRAM would no further hear,
But cried, 'Vile traitor, ſtay!
Vile traitor, yield that lady up!'
And quick his fword he drew.
The ftranger turn'd in ſudden rage,
And at Sir BERTRAM flew.
With mortal hate their vigorous arms
Gave many a vengeful blow:
But BERTRAM's ftronger hand prevail'd,
And laid the ftranger low.
Die, traitor, die !-A deadly thruſt
Attends each furious word.
Ah! then fair ISABEL knew his voice,
And rufh'd beneath his fword.
04


200
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
O ftop, fhe cried, O ftop thy arm!
Thou doft thy brother ſlay!
And here the Hermit paus'd and wept:
His tongue no more could fay.
At length he cried, Ye lovely pair,
How fhall I tell the reft?
Ere I could ftop my piercing fword,
It fell and ftabb'd her breaſt.
Were thou thyself that hapleſs youth?
Ah! cruel fate! they ſaid:
The Hermit wept, and fo did they;
They figh'd; he hung his head.
O blind and jealous rage, he cried,
What evils from thee flow.
The Hermit paus'd; they filent mourn'd;
He wept, and they were woe.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
201
Ah! when I heard my brother's name,
And faw my lady bleed,
I rav'd, I wept, I curft my arm
That wrought the fatal deed.
In vain I clafp'd her to my breaft,
And clos'd the ghastly wound;
In vain I prefs'd his bleeding corfe,
And rais'd it from the ground.
My brother, alas! ſpake never more;
His precious life was flown.
She kindly ftrove to footh
my pain,
Regardleſs of her own.
BERTRAM, fhe faid, be comforted,
And live to think on me.
May we in heaven that union prove,
Which here was not to be.


202
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
BERTRAM, ſhe ſaid, I ftill was true;
Thou only hadft my heart:
May we hereafter meet in blifs;
We now,
alas! muft part.
For thee I left
father's hall,
my
And flew to thy relief,
When, lo! near Chiviot's fatal hills
I met a Scottiſh chief.
Lord Malcolm's fon, whoſe proffer'd love
I had refus'd with fcorn;
He flew my guards, and feiz'd on me
Upon that fatal morn ;
And in theſe dreary hated walls
He kept me cloſe confin'd;
And fondly fued and warmly prefs'd
To win me to his mind.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
203
Each rifing morn increas'd my pain,
Each night increas'd my fear;
When, wandering in this northern garb,
Thy brother found me here.
He quickly form'd this brave defign
To fet me, captive, free;
And on the moor his horſes wait
Ty'd to a neighbouring tree.
Then hafte, my love, efcape away,
And for thyfelf provide ;
And fometimes fondly think on her
Who ſhould have been thy bride.
Thus pouring comfort on my foul,
Even with her lateſt breath,
She gave one parting fond embrace,
And clos'd her eyes in death.


204
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
In wild amaze, in fpeechlefs woe,
Devoid of fenfe I lay;
Then fudden all in frantic mood
I meant myſelf to flay.
And, rifing up in furious hafte,
I feiz'd the bloody brand:
A fturdy arm here interpos'd,
And wrench'd it from my hand.
A crowd that from the caſtle came
Had mifs'd their lovely ward;
And feizing me, to prifon bare,
And deep in dungeon barr'd.
It chanc'd that on that very morn
Their chief was priſoner ta'en:
Lord PERCY had us foon exchang'd,
And ftrove to footh my pain.


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
205
And foon thoſe honoured dear remains
To England were convey'd ;
And there within their filent tombs,
With holy rites were laid.
For me, I loath'd wretched life,
my
And long to end it thought;
Till time, and books, and holy men,
Had better counfels taught.
my
heart to that
They rais'd
Whence heavenly comfort flows;
They taught me to deſpiſe the world,
And calmly bear its woes.
pure fource
No more the flave of human pride,
Vain hope, and fordid care,
I meekly vow'd to ſpend my life
In penitence and prayer.


206
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
The bold Sir BERTRAM now no more
Impetuous, haughty, wild;
But poor and humble Benedict,
Now lowly, patient, mild:
My lands I gave to feed the
And facred altars raiſe;
And here a lonely Anchorite
I came to end my days.
poor,
This ſweet fequefter'd vale I choſe,
Theſe rocks and hanging grove;
For oft befide that murmuring ſtream
My love was wont to rove.
My noble friend approv'd my choice;
This bleft retreat he
gave:
And here I carv'd her beauteous form,
And ſcoop'd this holy cave.
1
1
1


HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
207
Full fifty winters, all forlorn,
My life I've lingered here;
And daily o'er this fculptured faint
I drop the penfive tear.
And thou, dear brother of my heart,
So faithful and fo true,
The fad remembrance of thy fate
Still makes my bofom rue.
Yet not unpitied paſs'd my life,
Forfaken, or forgot,
The PERCY and his noble fons
Would grace. my lowly cot.
Oft the great Earl, from toils of ſtate
And cumbrous pomp of power,
Would gladly feek my little cell
To ſpend the tranquil hour.


208
HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
But length of life is length of woe;
I liv'd to mourn his fall:
I liv'd to mourn his godlike fons,
And friends and followers all.
But thou the honours of thy race,
Lov'd youth, fhalt now reſtore,
And raiſe again the PERCY name
More glorious than before.
He ceas'd, and on the lovely pair
His choiceft bleflings laid:
While they with thanks and pitying tears
His mournful tale repaid.
And now what preſent courſe to take
They aſked the good old fire;
And, guided by his fage advice,
To Scotland they retire.


HERMIT OF WARK WORTH.
209
Meantime their fuit fuch favour found
At Raby's flately hall,
Earl Neville and his princely fpoufe
Now gladly pardon all.
She fuppliant at her nephew's throne
The royal grace implor'd:
To all the honours of his race
The PERCY was reftor'd.
The youthful Earl ſtill more and more
Admir'd his beauteous dáme;
Nine noble fons to him the bore,
All worthy of their name.





SONNETS
FROM
PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
P 2


24 ÉS DE Z Z E Z E


SONNETS.
BY HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.
SONNET I.
TO LOVE.
AH Love! ere yet I knew thy fatal power,
Bright glow'd the colour of my youthful days,
As, on the fultry zone, the torrid rays
That paint the broad-leav'd plantain's gloffy bower:
Calm was my bofom as this filent hour,
When o'er the deep, fcarce heard, the zephyr ftrays,
Midft the cool tamarinds indolently plays,
Nor from the orange ſhakes its od'rous flower:
But ah! fince Love has all my heart poffeft,
That defolated heart what forrows tear?
Diſturb'd, and wild as ocean's troubled breaft,
When the hoarfe tempeft of the night is there!
Yet my complaining ſpirit aſks no reft;
This bleeding bofom cheriſhes deſpair.
1
#
P 3


214
SONNETS.
1
I
1
SONNET II.
TO DISAPPOINTMENT.
PALE Diſappointment! at thy freezing name
Chill fears in ev'ry fhiv'ring vein I prove,
My finking pulſe almoft forgets to move,
And life almoft forfakes my languid frame:
Yet thee, relentleſs nymph! no more I blame.
Why do my thoughts midſt vain illuſions rove
Why gild the charms of friendſhip and of love
With the warm glow of fancy's purple flame?
When ruffling winds have ſome bright fane o'er-
thrown,
ܕ܂
Which fhone on painted clouds, or feem'd to fhine,
Shall the fond gazer dream for him alone
Thofe clouds were ſtable, and at fate repine?
I feel, alas! the fault is all my own,
And, ah! the cruel puniſhment is mine!
1


SONNETS.
215
e?
e
?
o'er-
fhine
me?
SONNET III.
TO SIMPLICITY.
NYMPH of the defert! on this lonely fhore
Simplicity, thy bleffings ftill are mine,
And all thou canst not give I pleas'd refign,
For all befide can footh my foul no more.
I afk no laviſh heaps to fwell my ftore,
And purchaſe pleaſures far remote from thine;
Ye joys, for which the race of Europe pine,
Ah, not for me your ftudied grandeur pour.
Let me, where yon tall cliffs are rudely pil'd,
Where towers the palm amidſt the mountain trees,
Where pendent from the ſteep, with graces wild,
The blue liana floats upon the breeze,
Still haunt thoſe bold receffes, nature's child,
Where thy majeſtic charms my ſpirit ſeize |
3


216
SONNETS.
SONNET IV.
TO THE STRAWBERRY.
THE Strawberry blooms upon its lowly bed,
Plant of my native foil!-the lime may fling
More potent fragrance on the zephyr's wing;
The milky cocoa richer juices fhed;
The white guava lovelier bloffoms ſpread:
But not like thee to fond remembrance bring
The vanish'd hours of life's enchanting spring,
Short calendar of joys for ever fled!
Thou bidſt the ſcenes of childhood riſe to view,
The wild-wood path which fancy loves to trace;
Where, veil'd in leaves, thy fruit of rofy hue
Lurk'd on its pliant ftem with modeſt grace:
But, ah! when thought would later years renew,
Alas, fucceffive forrows crowd the ſpace!


SONNETS.
217
g
ԵՐ
iew,
trace;
ne
e:
renew,
SONNET V.
TO THE CURLEW.
SOOTH'D by the murmurs on the fea-beat fhore,
His dun-grey plumage floating to the gale,
The Curlew blends his melancholy wail
With thofe hoarfe founds the ruſhing waters pour.
Like thee, congenial bird! my fteps explore
The bleak lone fea-beach, or the rocky dale,
And fhun the orange bower, the myrtle vale,
Whofe
gay luxuriance fuits my foul no more.
I love the ocean's broad expanfe, when dreft
In limpid clearness, or when tempefts blow;
When the finooth currents on its placid breaft
Flow calm as my paſt moments uſed to flow;
Or, when its troubled waves refuſe to reft,
And feem the fymbol of my preſent woe.
8


218
SONNETS.
SONNET VI.
ΤΟ THE TORRID ZONE.
PATHWAY of light! o'er thy empurpled zone,
With lavish charms perennial fummer ftrays;
Soft 'midft thy fpicy groves the zephyr plays,
While far around the rich perfumes are thrown:
The amadavid-bird for thee alone,
Spreads his gay plumes that catch thy vivid rays;
For thee the gems with liquid luſtre blaze,
And nature's various wealth is all thy own.
But, ah! not thine is twilight's doubtful gloom,
Thoſe mild gradations, mingling day with night;
Here, inftant darkneſs fhrouds thy genial bloom,
Nor leaves my penfive foul that ling'ring light,
When muſing mem'ry would each trace reſume
Of fading pleaſures in fucceffive flight.
SUBI
How
Whi
Who
My
Since
Bene
Sym
For
O'er
Thu
And
Ah!
The


SONNETS.
219
zone,
trays;
plays,
e thrown:
vivid rays;
blaze,
own.
tful gloom,
with night;
enial bloom,
ring light,
race refume
ht.
SONNET VII.
TO THE CALBASSIA-TREE.
SUBLIME Calbaffia! luxuriant tree,
How foft the gloom thy bright-hu'd foliage throws,
While from thy pulp a healing balfam flows,
Whofe power the fuff'ring wretch from pain can
free.
My penfive footfteps ever turn to thee!
Since oft, while mufing on my lafting woes,
Beneath thy flow'ry white-bells I repofe,
Symbol of friendfhip, doft thou feem to me:
For thus has friendship caft her foothing fhade
O'er
my unfhelter'd bofom's keen diftrefs;
Thus fought to heal the wounds which love has
made,
And temper bleeding forrow's fharp exceſs!
Ah! not in vain fhe lends her balmy aid:
The agonies the cannot cure, are leſs!
:


ļ
SONNETS.
220
1
1
SONNET VIII.
TO THE WHITE BIRD OF THE TROPIC.
BIRD of the Tropic! thou, who lov'ſt to ſtray
Where thy long pinions ſweep the fultry line,
Or mark'ft the bounds which torrid beams confine
By thy averted courſe, that fhuns the ray
Oblique, enamour'd of fublimer day:
Oft on yon cliff thy folded plumes recline,
And drop thofe fnowy feathers Indians twine
To crown the warrior's brow with honours gay.
O'er trackleſs oceans what impels thy wing?
Does no foft inftinct in thy foul prevail?
No fweet affection to thy bofom cling,
And bid thee oft thy abſent neft bewail?
Yet thou again to that dear ſpot canft ſpring;
But I my long-loft home no more ſhall hail!
THE END.


II.
THE TROPIC
lov't to fray
te fultry line,
id beams conf
the ray
recline,
ans twine
enours gay.
y wing?
all?
ail?
fpring;
bail!
7












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