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 U3
 
 LEISURE HOURS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 MORNING AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 CONSISTING OF 
 
 ^oemsf 
 
 ON 
 
 A VARIETY OF INTERESTING SUBJECTS, 
 
 MORAL, RELIGIOUS, AND MISCELLANEOUS : 
 
 I 
 
 ' WITH NOTES. 
 
 Bi/ W, STEERS. 
 
 lonflon: - 
 
 PT'BLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY MESSRS. SIIERWOOW, 
 KEELY AND JONES, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1811.
 
 Gilbert, Printer, Sailers' liall 
 
 Court, Caijooo Street.
 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 ALLEN, Mr. Old Street. 
 
 Alboii, Mr. Rosomond Street, Clerkenwell. 
 
 Allen, Mr. Post OflBce. 
 
 Ames, Mr. Sun Fire Office. 
 
 Angus, Mr. Batson's Coffee-house. 
 
 \yres, Mr. Size Lane, Cheapside. 
 
 Batson, Esq. Brierly Hill, near Stourbridge. 
 Bates, Mr. T. Sen. Bartholomew Close. 
 Bates, Mr. T. Jun. Ditto 
 
 Bates, Mr. F. Ditto 
 
 '■aldock, Mr. Finsbury Square, 
 aily, Miss, Westminster, 
 aynes, Mr. R. Paternoster Row. 
 
 Jaker, Mr. Southwark. 
 Baker, Jlr. William, East India House. 
 Benbow, Mr. Worcester. 
 Bennett, Mr. Lcadenhall Street. 
 Billingham, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 Bloomfield, Mr. R. Author of the Farmer's Boy, &c. 
 Bousfield, Mr. S. Paternoster Row. 
 Bousfield, air. J. Leadenhall Street. 
 Bott, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 'iooth, Mr. Shaftesbury Court. 
 Bristow, Mr. C. Artillery Place. 
 Brookes, Mr. 6, Bayle Street. 
 Buonaparte, Monsieur Lucien, Worcester. 
 Burrup, Mr. Exchange. 
 Burrows, Mr. T. Worcester. 
 
 775441
 
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 Chalk, Mr. Paternoster Row. 
 
 Collier, J. Esq. Edenbridge, Kent. 
 
 Cockerton, Mr. Aldcrsgate Street. 
 
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 Corke, Mr. W. Edenbridge, Kent. 
 
 Coventry, Right Honorable Countess of. Worcester. 
 
 Creasy, W. Esq. M. D. Edenbridge, Kent. 
 
 Cradock and Joy, Messrs. Paternoster Row. 
 
 Cripps, Mr. Clerkenwell. 
 
 Croft, Mr. Paternoster Row. 
 
 Cumberland, Mr. Blackfriars Road. 
 
 Davis, Miss, West Street, Spitalfields. 
 
 D'Egville, Esq. Worcester. 
 
 Dewe, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 
 Downes, G. Esq. Limehouse. 
 
 Drewry, Mr. Stamford Street, Blackfriars. 
 
 Duncan, Mr. Paternoster Row. 
 
 Eaton, Mr. R. East India House. 
 
 Eeles, Mr. 
 
 Elliott, Mr. Westminster Bridge 
 
 Emery, Mr. Bell Alley, Coleman Street. 
 
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 Freeman, Mr. J. Bow. 
 
 Gale and Curtiss, Messrs. Paternoster Row, 6 Copies. 
 
 Glen, Miss, Kensington. 
 
 Goodman, J. Esq. Percival Street, Goswell Street. 
 
 Gordon, W. Esq, M. P. for Worcester. 
 
 Gorton, Mr.
 
 • SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Grew, Mr. Grove Place. 
 Gregg, Rev. Mr. Worcester. 
 
 Hall, Mr. J. V. Worcester, 5 Copies. 
 Harris, Mr. Silver Street. 
 Hawkins, Mr. 30, Great St. Helens. 
 Hardcastle, Mr. Finsbury Square. 
 Hartly, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 Hamilton, Mr. Paternoster Row, 
 Hipkin, Mr. Allertoii Street, City Road. 
 Hooper, Mr. J. Worcester. 
 Holl, T. Esq. ditto. 
 
 Holl, C A. Esq, ditto. 
 Hobro, Mr. Worcester. 
 Hobro, Mr. J. Worcester. 
 Hoffman, Miss, Leadenhall Street. 
 Hunter, Mr. 6, Powell Place, City Road, 
 Hunt, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 Huggett, Mr. Edenbridge Kent. 
 
 Incell, Mr. Worcester. 
 Jones, Mr. J. ditto. 
 Jolly, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 Johnson, Mr. Bishopsgate Street. 
 Jones, Mr. Paternoster Row. 
 
 Knight, W. Esq. Gainsford Street, Horslydown. 
 K— wg — m, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 
 Larkin, Mr. Little Britain. 
 Larkin, Mr. D. N. ditto. 
 Larkin, Mr. D. ditto. 
 
 Lawler, Mr. Comhill. 
 Lloyd, Mr. J. Worcester.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. ^ 
 
 Maclauriu, Mr, Paternoster Row. 
 
 Mathews, Mr. St. George's Fields. 
 
 Maitland, Mr. J. East India House. 
 
 Merrinian, Mr. J. Tower Royal Court, Watliug Street. 
 
 Mitchell, Mr. T. Holborn. 
 
 Middtecott, Mr. Paternoster Row. 
 
 Mosely, Mr. R. Worcester, 6 copies. 
 
 Musgrove, Sir R. Worcester. 
 
 Muggeridge, Mr. Queen Street, Cheapside. 
 
 Naton, Mr. Poultry. 
 Neale, Mr. Thames Street. 
 Newton, Mr. Paternoster Row. 
 Nichelson, Mr. W. Edenbrige, Kent. 
 Kichelson, Mr. N. Tunbridge. 
 Nind, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 
 Ogle, Mr. Holborn. 
 
 Old, Rlr. Bull and Mouth Street. 
 
 Osborne, Rev. Mr. Worcester. 
 
 Palmer, J. Esq. Wood-Hall, Worcestershire- 
 
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 Palmer, Miss A. ditto. 
 
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 Phillips, Mr. Jun. ditto. 
 
 Pike, Mr. Oxford Arms Passage, Warwick Lane. 
 
 Read, Mr. Edenbridgc, Kent. 
 
 Robarts, A. Esq. M. P. for Worcester. 
 
 Russell, Mr. G. Cross Street, Newington, Autlinr ot 
 
 " Essays", &c. 
 Ryley, Mr. Worcester. 
 
 Senior, Miss, Leadenhall Street. 
 Stevens, Mr. Churcii Street, Spitalfiehls.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Sherwood, Neely, aud Jones, Messrs. Paternoster Row, 
 
 6 copies. 
 Simpson, Mr. 
 Smith, Mr, G. Worcester. 
 Smitli, Mr. J. Camberwell. 
 Smith, Mr. 5, Aldersgate Street. 
 Smith, Mr. J. H. Worcester. 
 Smith, Mrs. Fore Street. 
 Smith, J. 46, Lime Street. 
 Somerviile, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 Spencer, Right Honorable Earl, Worcester, 
 Steers, W. Esq. Malven Wells, Worcestershire, 4 Copie.'s. 
 Stalker, Esq. Leadenhall Street. 
 Steers, Mr. J. Worcester. 
 
 Taylor, Mr. Kingsland. 
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 Unwin, Mr. 
 
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 West, Mr. Worcester. 
 
 Weare, Mr. Leadenhall Street. 
 
 West, Mrs. Bow, 
 
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 Whiteron, Mr. Strand. 
 
 Wilson, iMr. St. Paul's Church Yard. 
 
 Withers, Mr. Smithfield. 
 
 Wilds, Mr. Edeiibridge, Kent. 
 
 Williams. Mr. T. Lime Street. 
 
 Wils/jn, Mr, Exchange. 
 
 Woodcock, Mr. J. Exst India House. 
 
 Wood, Mr, J. Worcester.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Prefatory Address to my Muse 17 
 
 Prayer and Praise Inseparable 22 
 
 Faith and Works 33 
 
 A Hyrnu 35 
 
 God no Respecter of Persons 37 
 
 Faith supports under every Affliction 47 
 
 God no Subject for curious Speculation 49 
 
 A Hymn 51 
 
 The Atheist 56 
 
 The Birth of Christ 69 
 
 On Contentment 81 
 
 Elegy on the Death of a Young Lady 93 
 
 Home 97 
 
 Friendship 112 
 
 To-Morrow, or Two Sides to a Question 113 
 
 Lines to a Friend, on her Singing 152 
 
 The Days that are Past 127 
 
 My Old Yarn Stocking 131 
 
 Sonnet 135 
 
 A Poet's Lamentation over his Departed Mistress 137 
 
 Lines to a Musical Friend 158 
 
 An Elegy on a Friend 139 
 
 Address to a Youth labouring under a Hypochondriac 
 
 Affection 142 
 
 Address to my Mother 145 
 
 The Quarrel 153 
 
 The Folly of Pride 156 
 
 Notes &c. 16^
 
 PREFATORY ADDRESS 
 
 TO 
 
 MY MUSE. 
 
 J. 
 
 FULL oft, luy Muse, thy weak untutor'd strains. 
 And pensive music of thy plaintive lyre. 
 
 Applause have met from rude, unletter'd swains. 
 And partial friends have prais'd thy trembling wire. 
 
 2. 
 
 Wild as the lay that floats upon the gale, 
 When midnight zephyrs kiss Eolian strings. 
 
 Thy notes thou hast dispers'd around the vale, 
 And plum'd in peaceful solitude thy wings. 
 
 3. 
 
 When poor, unhappy youth, whose silent ears 
 No sense of sweet harmonious sound retain. 
 
 Now first arous'd to joy, astonish 'd hears 
 
 The "full-ton'd organ's " hold majestic strain! 
 
 B
 
 18 PREFATORY ADDRESS. 
 
 4. 
 
 Lost in amaze, in mute expressive signs. 
 He motions rapture to its wild excess. 
 
 Each quiv'ring limb, and every sense resigns 
 To all the breathless extacy of bliss. 
 
 5. 
 
 Thus, dearest Muse, when thy melodious lay 
 Pours the sweet sorrow in my weeping eyes. 
 
 My ravish'd spirit chides the long delay, 
 
 Spreads her weak wings, and trembles to the skiev. 
 
 As evening taper sheds its modest rays, 
 
 Content one little circle to adorn ; 
 'Till now thou'st sung as heedless of its praise. 
 
 As careless, fearless of the public scorn. 
 
 7. 
 
 Oh, had thy friends from flatt'ring force refrain'd, 
 "Nor drag'd thee forth reluctant from thy rest. 
 
 To all but these unknown, thou'dst still remain'd 
 RetirVl, but in that lov'd retirement bless'd.
 
 PREFATORY ADDRESS. 19 
 
 8. 
 
 Sweet is the music of thy shepherd's reed. 
 When these the tribute of applause bestow. 
 
 But " phiin, unvarnish'd" as thou art, indeed 
 I scarce can hope the would will call it so. 
 
 The test of merit lies not with the few. 
 
 Who'd name e'en dulness from its author bright ; 
 
 The world at larjje must give it merit too. 
 
 And all think pretty what the few think sweet. 
 
 10. 
 
 Yet should thy harsh, unpolish'd verse, my IMuse, 
 One thoughtless libertine's impure career 
 
 Betimes arrest, correct one vile abuse. 
 
 Repress one sigh, or wipe one starting tear ; 
 
 11. 
 
 From beauteous eyes draw forth one Iieavenly smile. 
 To speak their approbation of the lay ; 
 
 One tortur'd wretch of madd'ning pain beguile, 
 Or charm one sad — one tedious hour awav, 
 
 E 2
 
 20 PREFATORY ADDRESS. 
 
 12. 
 
 To crown my hopes, should each dear parent live, 
 (O God, thou wilt not sure deny me this !) 
 
 'Till from these hands the aged pair receive 
 Thy simple songs, and smile the verse to bless ! 
 
 13. 
 
 Then let the critics chide thy artless page. 
 To Lethe's wave thy lowly verse consign, 
 
 A rich reward that mocks their puny rage. 
 The transport of a grateful heart is mine. 
 
 14. 
 
 But should not one, my gentle maid, admire 
 Thy strains; should all despise thy little lore. 
 
 Still shalt thou tune in solitude thy lyre. 
 
 While Prudence whispers, " Seek the world no more." 
 
 15. 
 
 Sweet as the voice of Mercy to the soul 
 On angels' pinions hast'niug to be blest. 
 
 Thy rustic harp shall be my solace still. 
 
 And still shall soothe each rebel pang to rest.
 
 PREFATORY ADDRESS. 21 
 
 l5. 
 
 Tho' nobler bards thy feeble flight disdain, 
 On more experienc'd wings sublimely borne ; 
 
 And thou to blest obscurity again. 
 To weep thy first, thy last sad fall return. 
 
 17. 
 
 This sweet reflection shall amidst the scorn 
 
 That blasts thy hopes, thy transient sorrows cheer. 
 
 Thy lays ne'er plac'd in Mis'ry's breast a thorn. 
 Nor cost the poor unfortunate a tear.
 
 22 PRAYER AND PRAISE 
 
 PRAYER AND PRAISE 
 
 INSEPARABLE. 
 
 SWEET Source of Song, that o'er my soul 
 Dost heavenly warmth diftuse, 
 
 Whate'er thou art, whate'er thy name. 
 Or spirit blest, or muse! 
 
 2. 
 
 While classic bards, in verse profane, 
 
 A fame eternal raise. 
 Be thine the task, the joy supreme, 
 
 To breathe Jehovah's praise. 
 
 Too oft some less exalted theme. 
 Some soft bewitching Isy, 
 
 Usurps my soul's sweet throne and steals 
 My belter thoughts away :
 
 INSEPARABLE. 
 
 Each worship'd joy that bids mankind 
 Submit the prostrate knee. 
 
 By turns hath found, (oh taste depraved) 
 An advocate in thee : 
 
 But shall the eagle leave his nest 
 For more congenial skies. 
 
 And wilt not thou one effort make 
 From " baseborn" earth to rise ? 
 
 6. 
 
 Oh ! lei unhallowed verse no more 
 Expire upon thy string ; 
 
 But God's omnipotence and grace, 
 And all his mercies sing. 
 
 In melting extacy dissolv'd. 
 On joys celestial dwell. 
 
 Nor dread Icarus' fate, for here 
 'Tis glorious to fall.
 
 24 PRAYER AND PRAISE 
 
 »=»^^— e»— ^i» Mil ■ ■ .1 ■ . 1.11 ■ — i»ii.M M l ■I.. — . ..M.- I- ^^ 
 
 8. 
 
 Yet hold, audacious maid, nor dare. 
 With rude presumptuous hand. 
 
 Thy grating harp's harsh notes to spread 
 Around th' astonished land. 
 
 The lustrous beams of lucid light 
 That heav'ns high ways adorn. 
 
 Deride thy skill, and laugh thy low. 
 Laborious flight to scorn. 
 
 10. 
 
 Tis not to thee, my grov'ling muse 
 The grateful task belongs. 
 
 Vain are our best attempts to praise. 
 Till God inspires our songs. 
 
 11. 
 
 And how shall lyre so weak as thine 
 
 Essay the lofty strain, 
 When angels, would they speak his love, 
 
 Rlust strike their harps in vain.
 
 INSEPARABLE. 
 
 12. 
 
 Oh could a thousand tongues in one 
 Their blended utt'rance join, 
 
 Expression, words, and speech would fail 
 To paint the Pow'r divine. 
 
 13. 
 
 So wondrous are the works, oh Lord, 
 Thy beauteous hands display. 
 
 My raptur'd soul despairs to praise, 
 And meekly turns to pray, 
 
 14. 
 
 But should I rashly dare to crave 
 What least it boots to know, 
 
 Withhold the false, perfidious bliss. 
 Nor all I ask bestow. 
 
 15. 
 
 Thou best canst tell what most T need. 
 What least my wants require ; 
 
 What thou art pleas'd to think most good. 
 That teach me to desire.
 
 26 PRAYER AND PRAISE 
 
 16. 
 
 Repress unheard the rising wish 
 The world's attractions give. 
 
 E'er words the embryo thought mature 
 That scarce begins to live. 
 
 17. 
 
 All that from thee. Oh God ! I gain 
 
 Of earthly good or ill. 
 That let me justly learn to prize. 
 
 And praise thy mercies still. 
 
 18. 
 
 Should fate destroy my smiling hopes. 
 Or gild my prospects fair. 
 
 This let my soul in peace enjoy. 
 Or that with patience bear. 
 
 19. 
 
 I aslt not gold, for wealth but chains 
 The soul to scenes below ; 
 
 If this thou deeni'st it fit to grant. 
 Thou wilt unask'd bestow.
 
 INSEPARABLE. 2? 
 
 20. 
 
 By me untoucli'd let massy dross 
 
 In quiet slumbers rest ; 
 Give me the poorer, happier lot. 
 
 To be with little blest. 
 
 21. 
 
 But should in distant years remote, 
 My blest Creator please 
 
 For wisest purposes to grant 
 Me affluence and ease, 
 
 22. 
 
 Let not thy bounties undeserv'd 
 
 My rising heart elate. 
 Nor pride debase a wretch so low. 
 
 Aspiring to be great. 
 
 23. 
 
 Instruct me rightly to apply 
 The heaven-intrusted store. 
 
 To live the friend of worth and want. 
 The steward of the poor.
 
 28 PRAYER AND PRAISE 
 
 i>4. 
 
 May meek-eyed charity forbid 
 My rude unbridled tongue. 
 
 At modes, or forms of faith to rail. 
 When chance my own is wrong. 
 
 25. 
 
 Tho' Pagan, Catholic, and Friend, 
 
 My firm belief condemn ; 
 The right to judge they grant not me. 
 
 That let me yield to them. 
 
 26. 
 
 Give me the heart which fondly feels 
 
 A bleeding brother's woe ; 
 And loves to lend its lenient aid 
 
 To wipe the tears that flow. 
 
 27. 
 
 Which spares the Friend the harsh rebuke. 
 
 And lingers to reprove. 
 And, frail itself, at once accords 
 
 To pity and to love.
 
 INSEPARABLE. 29 
 
 28. 
 
 When adverse fate attunes his soul 
 
 To agony and grief, 
 And cold luisfortnne's chilling frown 
 
 Denies the prompt relief, 
 
 29. 
 
 Be mine the calm, the pure delight 
 
 To bid the suff 'rer live. 
 To taste the noblest feast of man, 
 
 The luxury to give. 
 
 30. 
 
 O grant me wisdom to discern , 
 
 When clouds obscure my sight. 
 
 The heavenly road that leads to thee ; 
 The hallow'd path of right. 
 
 31. 
 
 « 
 
 Tempt not my weakness, oh, my God ! 
 
 Beyond my strength to bear; 
 Lest sin should o'er my faith prevail. 
 
 And leave me to despair.
 
 30 PRAYER AND PRAISE 
 
 32. 
 
 If ought can make a soul like mine, 
 A soul more worthy thee. 
 
 Instruct me how that joy to gain, 
 And give that bliss to me. 
 
 33. 
 
 Whate'er of sin, whate'er of vice. 
 This heart of stone contains. 
 
 Its vacant seat may grace ascend. 
 And cleanse the guilty veins. 
 
 34. 
 
 Preserve me. Lord, when snares unseen 
 
 My heedless feet betray, 
 Reclaim me e'er I sink too deep, 
 
 And point thyself the way. 
 
 35. 
 
 Let not my weak rebellious soul. 
 
 My erring spirit dare 
 To murmur at thy sov'reign will, 
 
 Tho' keenest woes I bear.
 
 INSEPARABLE. 31 
 
 35. 
 
 For why should wretch so poor as I 
 At ought on earth repine. 
 
 Or court the world's delirious smile, 
 When all I need is thine ? 
 
 What tho' awhile my spirit faints 
 Beneath thy chast'ning rod. 
 
 Thy smiles still shine behind the veil, 
 And still thou art my God ! 
 
 38. 
 
 When morn salutes the infant day 
 With golden streaks of light, 
 
 How beauteous beam the heav'ns serene 
 How gloriously bright: 
 
 39. 
 
 But could each star that gilds the sky. 
 And each resplendent sun. 
 
 Desert their vast eternal spheres, 
 To blend their rays in one;
 
 52 PRAYER AND PRAISE 
 
 40. 
 
 Not all their lustre could a light 
 
 So glorious display. 
 As thou around my heart shalt shed. 
 
 When all my fears give way. 
 
 41. 
 
 Tis vain, oh God, in pray'r alone 
 My trembling notes to raise, 
 
 For pray'r but leads my grateful heart 
 Insensibly to praise. 
 
 42. 
 
 To thee, my God, my hope, my trust. 
 My Father, and my Friend, 
 
 JRegardless of all lesser good. 
 
 My praise, my pray'rs ascend : 
 
 43. 
 
 The gifts tliy lib'ral hands bestow. 
 My trifling wants exceed ; 
 
 Give me to know, to love thee more, 
 And I am blest indeed.
 
 FAITH AND WOKKS. 33 
 
 FAITH AND WORKS. 
 
 TIS works, not faiili, the siuuer cries, 
 Must fit the soul for bliss ; 
 
 The rash experiment he tries. 
 And puts his FAITH in this. 
 
 2. 
 
 Thy soul 'tis faith alone can save, 
 
 A thousand tongues reply. 
 Thy works with thee shall seek the grave, 
 
 And with thyself shall die. 
 
 3. 
 
 Another steers a middle course. 
 And trusts thro' both to live. 
 
 And truly hopes he's none the worse. 
 The' both combine to save. 
 c
 
 34 FAITH AND WORKS. 
 
 4. 
 
 If works alone can merit heav'n, 
 IIow few, alas ! there are, 
 
 To whom the rare perfection's giv'n 
 The mighty bliss to share. 
 
 5. 
 
 If faith and God's free grace alone 
 Will save the wretch from hell, 
 
 Good works will sure improve the boon. 
 And rank him happier still ! 
 
 6. 
 
 As one or both must save from death. 
 And yield supreme delight. 
 
 Unite good works with lively faith. 
 And then you must be right.
 
 A HYMN. 35 
 
 A HYMN. 
 
 WHEN Satan's darts assail my sinful soul, — 
 When troubles vex, and needless doubts arise,- 
 
 Wben seas of deep affliction o'er me roll, — 
 And sinners scoff, or infidels despise ; 
 
 Wben Persecution sbakes her iron rod. 
 And stalks with desolation in her train ; 
 
 When Superstition reigns, and worships God, 
 With bleeding victims ou her altars slain; 
 
 When seisms in thy church, oh God I prevail. 
 And Sin triumphant sees the righteous fall. 
 
 When carnal joys, and worldly comfjit? fail. 
 And dire distress, and dreadful dreams app;i!.
 
 36 A HYMN. 
 
 When these, and ev'ry earthly ill I bear. 
 And bow my heart with agonizing woe, 
 
 'Till sorrow bids my fainting soul despair. 
 And tears of anguish deep unbidden flow ; 
 
 'Tis then, oh God of Hosts! my sinking faith 
 Thine arms support, and heav'nly comfort yield ; 
 
 Cheer'd by thy voice, and nourish 'd by thy breath, 
 I hail thee God ! my Saviour, and my shield ! 
 
 6. 
 
 Almighty King of Souls ! oh, grant me grace, 
 
 A holy fervour in my bosom raise. 
 Dispel my fears, bid ev'ry doubt give place, 
 
 And teach ray falt'ring tongue to sing thy praise !
 
 eOD — NO ItESl»ECtt^ 57 
 
 GOD, 
 
 ^'0 RESPECTER OF PERSONS. 
 
 1. 
 
 THE clark-hued native of a « csfcrn clime, 
 (To pure religion and to grace unknown) 
 
 Where no kind beams of radiant truth -suljlime. 
 Nor rays of rtiist-dispelling hght o'er shone, 
 
 With humbled fierceness, and with heart elate. 
 In gloomy wilds first learns to breathe the pray'r, 
 
 Erects an altar to the Spirit great. 
 
 And trusts that fiiv'ring Spirit hovers near. 
 
 Where Tndian seas, in populous display, 
 
 Tiie winding shores of rich Hindoostan lave, 
 
 The dark Hindoos to mighty Brahma prav. 
 And leave their sins beneath the sacred wave.
 
 38 GOD — NO RESPECTER 
 
 4. 
 
 Torn from their rocky beds of ages past. 
 
 With toil immense, the rude Barbarians raise 
 
 The pond'rous stones to form an idol vast. 
 
 And teach their wond'ring babes to lisp its praise. 
 
 5. 
 
 In desert isles the pious savage rears 
 A branchless tree, and consecrates the wood ; 
 
 Carves on its trunk the shapes of nose, eyes, ears. 
 And stiles the huge, insensate log his God! 
 
 6. 
 
 The sooty negro on his sun-burnt plains. 
 
 With zeal officious builds the twig-wrought cell, 
 
 In this a snake with gentle force detains. 
 And calls it God! his hope, and little all. 
 
 7. 
 
 Where Persia's king its glitt'ring sceptre wields, 
 And countless nations hear but to obev. 
 
 Its sallow sons adore the orb that yields 
 The risini; blushes of the new-born dav
 
 OF PERSONS. 39 
 
 8. 
 
 A polish'd twig th' unletter'd savage wears, 
 And to his bosom clasps the sapless wood, 
 
 Posses'd of this, possesses all, nor fears. 
 
 Or foes, or death, while present witli his God. 
 
 In Eastern realms reside an harmless tribe, 
 Who burn their incense to th' as])ii ing flame ! 
 
 To this all praise, all glorj- they ascribe. 
 And this belief the only pure ])roclaiin ! 
 
 10. 
 
 In Madagascar's unenliirhten'd isle, 
 A hollow bowl the sable native awes ; 
 
 Nor lives there one so lost, apostate, vile, 
 But fears its anger, and obeys its laws! 
 
 11. 
 
 A land there is, where baleful vapours rise, 
 And pois'nous winds in rude coniraotion blow. 
 
 Where death in ev'ry shape, in ev'ry guise. 
 
 Stalks hunf:rv forth to spread disease and woe ;
 
 4>6 GOD — NO RESPECTER 
 
 Deep in the bosom of a hallow'd grove. 
 The congregated crowds a temple rear. 
 
 Seek there the object of their pious love. 
 
 Breathe there the vow, and thence direct tlie pray'r. 
 
 13. 
 
 To them a monkey's jaw supplies a God I 
 A God minute and small ! a lifeless bone ! 
 
 To this they bow as parent of all good. 
 
 And praise the mighty tooth as God alone ! 
 
 14. 
 
 In Albion's favor'd isle, byheav'n inspir'd 
 
 To point the road to everlasting bliss. 
 The lowly pastor tells how Christ expir'd 
 
 To save the world, and gave his life to bless ! 
 
 15. 
 
 Breathes forth aloud the great Jehovah's name 
 
 As Lord of all ; eternally possess'd 
 Of truth and love; in ev'ry age the same. 
 
 The God of mercy, and for ever blest !
 
 OF PEKSONS. 41 
 
 16. 
 
 'Tis thus in various forms^ in various ways. 
 One common Lord the sons of earth adore ; 
 
 To one kind God tlieir mingled voices raise. 
 And back to heav'n the souls he gave restore. 
 
 'Tis not complexion, shape, or outward form, 
 Shall save the deathless soul from lasting woe. 
 
 Thy love, oh God ! a Negro's heart can warm. 
 Or life on wand'riug Hottentot bestow. 
 
 IS. 
 
 Where'er the wretch thy mercy, shall implore. 
 On Ganges' banks, or winding Niger's side. 
 
 In desart isles, on Afric's wave-wasJi'd shore. 
 Or where remote eternal snows abide, 
 
 19. 
 
 That pray'r, if rightly form'd, shall not in vain 
 Entreat a blesshig tho' no Christian he ; 
 
 His ignorance shall not the sigh detain. 
 
 Rut heav'nly gales shall waft his vows to thee.
 
 4.2 GOD — NO RESPECTER 
 
 20. 
 
 Not e\''ry shore can boast a fruitful Nile, 
 
 A tide immense. Yet shall each land contain 
 
 The stream which bids the yellow harvest smile. 
 And spreads a modest verdure o'er the plain : 
 
 21. 
 
 'Tis thus thy hands, oh God ! thy stores divide 
 Of heavenly love. The God of mercy still 
 
 To all : and where thou hast an ocean's tide 
 
 Withheld, there flows the stream, the murm'ring rill. 
 
 22. 
 
 Unnumber'd limbs from one tall trunk shall rear. 
 An hundred boughs from each strong limb shall grow, 
 
 A thousand twigs each fruitful branch shall bear. 
 Yet cue vast stem unites them all belotv : 
 
 23. 
 
 And so, tho' countless as its leaves, to thee 
 The modes of man's belief eccentric rise. 
 
 They are but branches of one mighty tree. 
 From one grand source aspiring to the skies.
 
 OF PERSONS. 45- 
 
 24. 
 
 Oh may I ne'er, with dark, and sightless eye. 
 Presume to trace the myst'ries of my God ; 
 
 To give him laws, whom glorious worlds obey. 
 Or soar to paths by human feet ne'er trod. 
 
 25. 
 
 But shall that Pow'r, beneficent and kind, 
 
 Whose name is mercy, and wh(»sc ways are peace. 
 
 Who when this earth capacious he design'd 
 Proclaim'd himself the father of the race, 
 
 25. 
 
 Who bade the lamp of heaven with equal glow 
 Its light and warmth impartially divide, 
 
 Salvation on a favor'd few bestow. 
 
 And veil his face from all the world beside? 
 
 Oh coald'sl thou bid thy Holy Spirit warm, 
 ONE hapless victim predestin'd to hell: 
 
 Or lend thine image to his god-like form. 
 And plant therein the iinperishablc soul,
 
 44 GOD — NO RESPECTER 
 
 28. 
 
 Erect and build that wond'rous structure man. 
 And pour liot life quick circling thro' his veins. 
 
 Give him a face so fair, an angel mien, 
 
 Already doom'd to death and endless pains ? 
 
 Rlillions there are to Jesus heavenly name ! 
 
 And to the glorious light of truth, unknown. 
 And shall their souls in everlasting flame 
 
 Atone for disobedience not their own ? 
 
 30. 
 
 And when a poor, a weak, a trembling soul 
 Shall claim admittance at thy heav'nly gate. 
 
 Wilt thou demand its faith, its native soil ; 
 Or yield thy high supremacy to fate ? 
 
 ol. 
 
 Oh God, forgive me, if I rashly hope, 
 A virtuous Savage may thy mercy share ! 
 
 That thou wilt stand his friend, support, and prop. 
 Nor leave a righteous Healhen to despair!
 
 OP PERSONS. 45 
 
 3%. 
 
 Forbid it, Mercy, and, oh God, forbid ! 
 
 A wretch should suffer for his ign'rance sake. 
 Who has no light beneath a busliel hid. 
 
 Who has no guide, nor hath a law to break ! 
 
 33. 
 
 Oh not from Iiini, the wretch in mental night. 
 From nat'ral cause submerg'd, wilt thou desire 
 
 A pure, a clear conception of the light. 
 
 Or from his lips the Christian's faith require ! 
 
 34. 
 
 For thou hast said, " My Son aton'd for all ; 
 
 I am thy God, thy counsellor, and friend ; 
 The man who seeks my face, or great, or small, 
 
 (For no distinctions plead with me) shall find !" 
 
 35. 
 
 Father of men, and King of saints above. 
 
 Thou great Unseen, and much too little known. 
 
 In each blesl spot some wretch hath felt thy love 
 To man, and Christ hath claim'd him for his own.
 
 46 GOn — NO RESPECTER. 
 
 36. 
 
 Thro' the wide world dispers'd, in ev'ry clime, 
 Thy sons adore one grand, one great First Cause, 
 
 Their nniversal parent Thou. Nor time. 
 
 Nor place, can give their great Creator laws. 
 
 37. 
 
 In ev'ry land, oh Lord ! thou'rt still the same. 
 
 Unchangeable, omnipotent, sincere; 
 In ev'ry land Jehovah hath a name, 
 
 Aud one great God a thousand nations fear ! !
 
 FAITH SUPPORTS. 4? 
 
 FAITH 
 
 SUPPORTS UNDER EVERY AFFLICTION. 
 
 WHEN fast theev'uing twilight wasting. 
 Clouds of darkness veil the skies, 
 
 A weary trav'ller homeward hasting. 
 O'er the dreary mountain hies. 
 
 The night, the distance, disregarding. 
 
 Persevering to the end ; 
 While pits and bogs his steps retarding. 
 
 O'er the dang'rous path extend. 
 
 3. 
 
 A well-known light, remotely cheering. 
 Pierces thro' the midnight gloom. 
 
 Till ev'ry danger disappearing 
 
 Joy receives the wand'rer home.
 
 48 FAITH SUPPORTS. 
 
 4. 
 
 Thus faithful souls, despair defying. 
 Seek the mansions of their God, 
 
 And on his arm of strength relying 
 Safely tread a dang'rous road. 
 
 Tl'ieir hope of glory still u>crea*ing. 
 As increase their troubles too. 
 
 Their pious ardour never ceasing. 
 Only bless'd wlien they pursite. 
 
 Their light is Jesus, sweetly guidiag, 
 'Till the tedious road is past. 
 
 And in his grace and love confiding, 
 God receives them home at last.
 
 GOD, NO SUBJECT 49 
 
 GOD, 
 
 NO SUBJECT FOR 
 CURIOUS SPECULATION^ 
 
 1. 
 
 Oh dare not vain, audacious man. 
 Thou reptile being of an hour. 
 
 The great Jehovah's works to scan. 
 
 Or place tliy bound'ries to his pow'r. 
 
 2. . 
 
 Beyond the limits of our ken, 
 
 Wiih high omnipotence he sways. 
 
 Obscure and unreveal'd to men ; 
 
 Not theirs to wonder but to praise ! ! 
 
 3. 
 
 On wings of air he rides sublime. 
 
 And speaks in thunder from the skies ; 
 
 Around his liead swift lightnings stream. 
 And lustrous meteors arise. 
 £
 
 FOB CUTIIOUS SPECULATION. 
 
 4. 
 
 In undiscoverable ways, 
 
 And paths unsearchable he treads ; 
 His heav'niy plans on high surveys. 
 
 And round mysterious darkness spreads. 
 
 5. 
 
 His are all goodness, strength, and pow'r ; 
 
 From him alone all else proceeds; 
 He rules the day, the punctual hour. 
 
 And where he lists directs and leads. 
 
 6, 
 
 When time shall rend the mystic chain 
 
 Which binds each planet to its sphere. 
 
 The great Almighty shall remain, 
 And to eternity endure.
 
 A HYMN. 51 
 
 A HYMN. 
 
 1. 
 
 Oh God of Abr'Iiam, hath my soul so long 
 Been bless'd beneatli thy friendly care, 
 
 So oft from past a<Hiction rose more strong. 
 And shall my soul at last despair? 
 
 Tho* not unclouded does thy heav'niy lamp 
 A clear resplendent aspect wear, 
 
 Tho' passing clouds my joyous hopes may damp. 
 Yet never shall my soul despair. 
 
 The yielding branch receives no lasting harm 
 Tho' deep ton'd winds tunmlluous roar. 
 
 And still shall live to brave a ruder storm; 
 Then sure 'tis madness to despair! 
 E 2
 
 52 A HYMN. 
 
 Tho' thou art pleas'd to veil thy heavenly face. 
 And leave me destitute and bare. 
 
 That erst was cloth'd in radiant robes of grace. 
 Yet never shall my soul despair. 
 
 5. 
 
 The pow'rs of hell exhaust their rage in vain, 
 
 And vain their battted efforts are, 
 While Faith and Hope with small, still voice within, 
 
 Protect my spirit from despair. 
 
 While I possess the treasures of thy word, 
 And read thy proniis'd mercy there. 
 
 No weight of woe shall turn me from the Lord, 
 And never shall my soul despair. 
 
 7. 
 
 Tho' soothing sleep forsakes awhile my head, 
 Sly broken slumbers are thy care ! 
 
 And while thy viewless presence cheers my bed. 
 Oh never shall my soul despair.
 
 A HYMN. 53 
 
 •8. 
 
 Should ling'ring sickness rack this form of mine. 
 And pain my wasting strength impair, 
 
 A mightier grief, and mightier pangs were thine. 
 And never shall my soul despair. 
 
 9- 
 
 Should life's dear charms be strangers to my heart. 
 And mis'ry claim my sojourn here, 
 
 I trust my God \\i\ kinder rays impart. 
 And never shall my soul despair. 
 
 10. 
 
 When fortune's frowns and deep distress invade. 
 And bring sad sorrow in their rear. 
 
 While thou art by to raise my drooj)ing head, 
 Oh never shall my soul despair. 
 
 11. 
 
 Tho' chilling blasts howl curses round my head. 
 
 And woes accumulate I bear. 
 If thou art kind, no earthly woes I dread, 
 
 And never shall ray soul despair.
 
 64> A HYMN. 
 
 1'2. 
 
 Tho' hellish warfare " senseless bigots" wage, 
 Their angry threats are lost in air 
 
 Whvle Jesus smiles, and bids me scorn their rage. 
 And never shall my soul despair. 
 
 13. 
 
 When all my joys are fled, when faithless friend 
 With alter'd visage frowns severe. 
 
 To thee, my God, my " fainting steps" I bend. 
 And never shall my soul despair. 
 
 14. 
 
 Tho* long and tedious seems the narrow path 
 Of heav'n. That leads to transport there ; 
 
 Yet can that road be long that leads from death, 
 From endless woes and fell despair? 
 
 15. 
 
 And tho' the road is strew'd with rankling thorns. 
 Yet still the prospect is not drear. 
 
 While heav'nly light the glorious path adorns ; • 
 And never shall my soul despair.
 
 A HYMN. 55 
 
 16. 
 
 Full well, oh much too well, 'tis known to thee 
 How great my vile transgressions are, 
 
 But thou hast caus'd thy grace to live in me. 
 And never shall my soul despair. 
 
 17. 
 
 Oh come, dear Lord, sweet Saviour, ever bless'd. 
 And save, oh save me from despair ; 
 
 In thy supporting arms oh let me rest. 
 
 And breathe my soul in raptures there !
 
 56 THE ATHEIST. 
 
 THE 
 
 ATHEIST. 
 
 1. 
 
 "OH cease! mistaken fools!" the Atheist cries^ 
 " On airy schemes of shadowy bliss to dwell; 
 
 In vain ye seek a heaven above the skies. 
 Or shun the horrors of a fancied hell. 
 
 2. 
 
 •* And why, ye sots, with unabated zeal, 
 Delusive bliss, ye ne'er can grasp, pursue T 
 
 The promis'd extacies ye long to feel, 
 Are monstrous falsities, and most untrue. 
 
 " These are but speculations of the Sage, 
 Abstrusely weak; ridiculous and vain; 
 
 The pious fashions of a friv'lous age, 
 The shapeless phantoms of a frenzied brain!
 
 THE ATHEIST. 37 
 
 4. 
 
 " Ye lean dependence on your 'sacred' word; 
 
 Support and build your cherish'd hopes on lies: 
 On things too light, too glaring, too absurd. 
 
 And trifling to deceive the truly wise. 
 
 5. 
 
 " As curious swains in unsubstantial air 
 Material forms of giant-bulk survey, — 
 
 Thus ye on empty nothingness confer 
 
 The name of Ged — a God of boundless sway ! 
 
 6. 
 
 « 
 
 " Who is this glorious God, this Povv'r Supreme, 
 This All-creating-by-Himself-create, 
 
 This raist-envelop'd, dark, mysterious dream 1 
 There i* no God ! 'tis Chance alone is great ! ! 
 
 7. 
 
 " Dragg'd from the chaos of primeval niglit. 
 By Chance impel'd the mi/)gling atoms rise. 
 
 Rush various up the darken'd rays of light. 
 
 Form a new v orld, and spread th' ethereal skies.
 
 58 THE ATHEIST. 
 
 *' 'Tis not by ijift divine tliat men possess 
 Beyond the brutes superior pow'rs to know ; 
 
 Nor had their equal lot, their sense been less 
 Than ours, if Chance had not ordain'd it so. 
 
 9. 
 
 ** Tis sov'reign Chance that bids th' obedient earth 
 In giddy rounds her circling course revolve, 
 
 'Twas this which gave Protean matter birth. 
 And shall, at last, the crumbling mass dissolve. 
 
 10. 
 
 ** Then cease, oh cease ! ye poor mistaken crew ! 
 
 On wild conceits, erroneous and weak. 
 To feed. Nor more in thorny paths pursue 
 
 The graspless shade, the airy form ye seek : 
 
 11. 
 
 " Dark superstition to the full-faced priest. 
 To well-fed monk, and cloistered abbess leave. 
 
 Nor heed their weak advice : ye know at least 
 It is their int'rest — bus'ness to deceive.
 
 THE ATHEIST. 5^ 
 
 1^. 
 
 *' Let these, with many a sweet extatic tear. 
 On future bliss, eternal rapture-^ dwell ; 
 
 Or still, amidst alternate hope and fear. 
 Anticipate — on earth enjoy their hell. 
 
 13. 
 
 " Of various parts, of various tastes possest. 
 Let each degrade and prostitute his own. 
 
 And still remain in self-deception blest. 
 And worship still a thing unseen, unknown. 
 
 • 14. 
 
 " Free from the vile, the soul-confining chain 
 Of narrow prejudice sublime I soar ; 
 
 Leave dull religion, and her gloomy train 
 To pious fools, and only Chance adore." 
 
 15. 
 
 Tis thus, ambitious of an Atheist's fame. 
 The impious wretch his ignorance betrays. 
 
 Gives to the world the story of his shame. 
 And what concealment most requires, displays.
 
 60 THE ATHEIST. 
 
 l6. 
 
 On human reason, human sense relies, 
 (Oh monstrous folly, ignorance supreme) 
 
 To prove the sacred Ruler of the skies 
 
 The " baseless fabric" of a midnight's dream. 
 
 17. 
 
 (So Erostratus o'er th' Ephesian pile 
 The flaming brand, the wild combustion threw, 
 
 Survey'd its smoking ruins with a smile. 
 
 And thence his guilt's eternal record drew.) 
 
 18. 
 
 Thou great Eternal Majesty divine. 
 
 Who high enthron'd on sparkling beams of light 
 Conceiv'st the purpose of each dread design ; 
 
 Thou great All-wise, omnipotent in might ! 
 
 15. ' 
 
 Whose piercing eyes to earth's remotest bound 
 Direct the glorious radiance of their way. 
 
 With baundless gaze created space surround. 
 And all th' expansive universe survey!
 
 THE ATHEIST. 6l 
 
 20. 
 
 Oh shall the dying worm thou mad'st, presume 
 At wondrous Thee, with impious tongue to rail ; 
 
 Its languid crest, emerging from the tomb, 
 
 In scorn uprear, and Thee w ith vile reproach assail ? 
 
 21. 
 
 Oh shall this poor Ephem'ra of a day. 
 This breathing earth — this animated clod, 
 
 'Gainst Thee with rude rebellious lips inveigh. 
 And still exist, the scorner of its God 1 
 
 22. 
 
 And is't for thee, accurst, presumptuous knave. 
 Of vaunted sense, the pigmy giant thou. 
 
 With rapid strides advancing to the grave. 
 
 Against high heav'n thy daring " bolts to throw I'"" 
 
 23. 
 
 Shalt thou against the great All-good, All-wise, 
 Fallacious fool ! thy feeble arms extend ? 
 
 And shall not sudden lightning from the skies. 
 To blast thee to thy native hell descend ?
 
 Gi THE ATHEIST. 
 
 24. 
 
 Unstable as the spider's filmy thread 
 
 Thou hold'st th' uncertain tenure of thy days. 
 
 And canst thou fearless rush to death, nor dread 
 To mock the God all earth unites to praise 1 
 
 25. 
 
 Adoring Nature thro' her boundless frame. 
 
 E'en where the eye ne'er reach'd, vrnr feet e'er trod. 
 
 Breathes her loud paeans to his sacred name. 
 And speaks the mighty presence of a God. 
 
 Yon beauteous flower in crimson robes array'd. 
 
 The unobtrusive tenant of the vale. 
 An added sweetness to the peaceful shade 
 
 Imparts, and fresher fragrance to the gale. 
 
 27. 
 
 Observe bow wildly regular each limb, 
 
 (From parent root uprear'd) digressive grows; 
 
 Behold how strong, how vigorous the stem 
 Supports the blushing burthen of the rose.
 
 THE ATHEIST. ^ 
 
 28. 
 
 Now, wretched reasoner, can thy lab'riug brain 
 Conceive how thus th' expanded blossom grew. 
 
 Or can thy w ise philosophy explain 
 
 From whence the rose its matchless sweetness drew ? 
 
 29. 
 
 Does lucky Chance the juice-inspiring veins. 
 The trunk wit li humid nourishment supply. 
 
 Or draw the wat'ry cloud in needful rains. 
 In fruitful streams abundant from on high t 
 
 30. 
 « 
 
 Or, self-supported o'er each happy land. 
 
 Or where the rocks oVr dreary wastes extend, 
 
 This glorious arch, magnificent and grand. 
 The pure, eft'ulgent vault of heav'n suspend ? 
 
 31. 
 
 Did Chance command the chariot of the Sun, 
 O'er heav'n's broad way with vivifying glow. 
 
 Its unrestrained, diurnal course to run. 
 
 And smile resplendent on the plain below?
 
 64. THE ATHEIST. 
 
 32. 
 
 Or bid the ksser meteors of the night, 
 Anridst the dark obscure, the distant ray, 
 
 Divulge ; and liquid streams of radiant light 
 To bless the drowsy world's repose display ? 
 
 33. 
 
 From strong cementing parts of grosser air. 
 Thro' pathless space impetuously hurl'd. 
 
 On hoary Time's eternal basis rear, 
 
 (Stupendous task !) the pillars of the world ? 
 
 34. 
 
 When angrily against the flatten'd shore 
 
 Which bars the rude approaches of the maiji. 
 
 The dreadful surges hideously roar. 
 
 Does Chance the fury of the tide restrain ? 
 
 35. 
 
 Does this the mighty monarch of the seas. 
 
 The monstrous whale his vast circumference give. 
 
 His wondrous length, his huge unwieldy size 
 Expand, and bid the moving mountain live?
 
 THE ATHEIS-f. 63 
 
 Man's stately form conceive, so perfect, fair, 
 Life's gentle music in the beating lieait 
 
 Awake. Sliaj)e the sniootli limb, the lofty air 
 Of sov'reign sway, of conscious rule impart? 
 
 37. 
 
 The subtle texture of the nervous brain 
 The musing soul's mysterious scat supply. 
 
 Stream the swift current thro' the slender vein. 
 Or teach its language to the speaking eye? 
 
 38, 
 
 Ob ! is it possible thou canst believe 
 
 A lying creed so palpable as tlnne. 
 And dost thou not in all His ways perceive 
 
 The God-like labours of a Pow'r divine 1 
 
 39. 
 
 For not in works, in forms like these alone. 
 
 In things of vast, stupendous breadth or height. 
 
 Hath God his wond'rous pow'r proclaini'd, or slions 
 Wis wisdom less in little than in great ! 
 
 J7
 
 66 THE ATHEIST; 
 
 40. 
 
 'Tis not in width of canvas, huge designs. 
 Creative skill the happy artist show. 
 
 So raueh as in the gentle, graceful lines. 
 Which o'er the picture more minutely flow. 
 
 41. 
 
 'Tis true, in monstrous bulk, to vulgar eyes. 
 The vulgar daub may more conspicuous shine. 
 
 But 'tis not depth of paint, enormous size. 
 But perfect finish stamps the piece diviiie. 
 
 42. 
 
 The mite, of size diminutive, so small 
 That scarce thine eyes its doubtful path pursue. 
 
 As God's own woik is great as thou, and all 
 The vital pow'rs thou hast, possesses too. 
 
 43. 
 
 He bade the tide of sweet existence warm. 
 And gaily wander thro' the lively veins ; 
 
 And deeply cherish 'd in its silver form, 
 A throbbing heart, a perfect life detains.
 
 THE ATHEIST. . 67 
 
 44. 
 
 "Nor swells its ]>antinq; breast from hope, from fear. 
 From pain, from bliss, or insect passions free ; 
 
 Nor is it^ little life to it less dear. 
 
 Or less important than is thine to thee. 
 
 45. 
 
 Tiift' not to mortal eyes, by nature blind, 
 In substance gross, in palpable display 
 
 The ^reat Jehovah shines, his glorious mind 
 To all but thee exists as certain as the day II 
 
 46. 
 
 Alas! shall he the wretch, whose viewless eye. 
 Whose darkeu'd orb, impervious to light. 
 
 Oh hapless fate ! from earliest infancy 
 
 Hath closed remain'd, in dark cimerian night, 
 
 47. 
 
 Against thy better judgment, madly hold. 
 And firm in error, obstinate persist, 
 
 Because he never, never can behold 
 
 The blue expanse, that light does not exist ? 
 
 F2
 
 6s THE ATHEIST. 
 
 48. 
 
 Oh no ! for tho' from him the suu conceals. 
 
 Behind imperfect vision's fiiniy veil 
 Its rays ; he loves its cheering warmth and feels 
 
 The day returning with its radiant smile ! 
 
 Then cease, thou worm ! thy vain attempts to scan 
 Thy God; nor in thy earthly balance weigh 
 
 The great Supreme ! sufficient tis for man 
 In silent awe to wonder and obey.
 
 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. ^9 
 
 THE BIRTH 
 
 OF 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 IN IRREGULAR VERSE. 
 
 LONG hath a dreadful race of ghastly fiends, 
 (Man's dark, implacable, and deadly foes) 
 From Sin's prolific womb, in shapes so vile. 
 Detestable produc'd, that e'en their Dam, 
 When first the monsters thro' hell's iron jaws, 
 (Those yaw ning gates, those hideous doors to all. 
 To each accessible ; but which, once clos'd, 
 The soul's destin'd return for ever bar) 
 In black array, and terrible she saw 
 Mature and ripe for fell destruction rush 
 Imjjetuons to light; with terror and 
 With strange amazcraeut struck, a horrid shriek
 
 70 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 
 
 That to its centre shook the vast profound 
 
 Of that stupendous, and fiery dome. 
 
 And fiUd all hell with fear, screamed horrible. 
 
 And from the appalling sight, (as from the snake. 
 
 That many a rood its mazy length — 
 
 In folds, and wreaths voluminous extends, 
 
 The fear-struck trav'ler flies) with horror seized. 
 
 Back to the deep, unfathomable gulph 
 
 Of perfect woe, with instantaneous speed 
 
 In haste recoil'd ; long hath the dreadful race 
 
 The vile, and prostituted throne of man's 
 
 Deluded soul with reekless tyranny 
 
 Usurp'd. Hath in his frail, and yielding heart's 
 
 Most intimate recess, and ev'ry pore 
 
 Instill'd their black, and pois'nous venom ; and 
 
 Life's weak, unguarded treasury, by God 
 
 As virtues fair, and spotless seat design'd. 
 
 Have to its very core, its inmost " heart 
 
 Of heart" corrupted; and each swollen vein. 
 
 Each avenue and ev'ry artery. 
 
 E'en to the very verge, the vast extreme 
 
 Of their so foul capacity, with vice 
 
 With dark iniquity, and sin so fill'd 
 
 It but one stain, and one disgusting blot
 
 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 7* 
 
 Continuous appears. His mind's vast pow'rs, 
 
 Man's most distinguish'^ excellence; (so near 
 
 To perfect wisdom and infinity 
 
 Ap))roaching) and th' insulted dignity 
 
 Of God-like reason, his peculiar gift. 
 
 And singular possession, have beneath 
 
 The grov'ling brutes instinctive faculty. 
 
 And sense irrational so fardebas'd. 
 
 That as the virgin moon, eclips'd, to orbs 
 
 Of lesser magnitude, but light for clear 
 
 Compar'd, to poor advantage shows; so he 
 
 To all creation— him its rightful lord 
 
 Acknowledging ; by God his heav'nly sire 
 
 Superior design'd ; yet to his lustv. 
 
 And unrestrained passions, most deprav'd, ^ 
 
 And most unnatural a slave, to these, — 
 
 The mere automatons, the mere machines 
 
 Of life, on which the wretch with wondrous pride, 
 
 With scorn, contumely, and arrogance 
 
 Insufferable, looks dis<lainful down. 
 
 Himself in Truth's just balance fair oppos'd. 
 
 Must e'en from that despis'd comparison 
 
 With shame retire; and to the poor unconscious brute» 
 
 Himself must far inferior confess !!
 
 72 THE BIRTH OP CHRIST. 
 
 These pav'd the road, and made the pathway clear. 
 By wliich, (like some victorious general 
 To certain conquest, o'er devoted plains, 
 With War's jfitd banner to the sportive air 
 In rude defiance and in scorn unloos'd. 
 Advancing in uncheck'd career,) — insidious Death, 
 Hell's fav'rite minister, and prime support. 
 The shores of this terrestrial Paradise 
 With giant strides approach'd. And this blest spot. 
 So beauteously fair ; this lovely earth. 
 As man's preparatory school, to fit 
 For joys and pleasures more refin'd his soul; 
 This scene of mortals' earthly pilgrimage. 
 Till from his natural dross, and from the dirt 
 Of his imperfect nature slowly purg'd. 
 And render'd meet for heav'n and happiness. 
 In all its parts, to form one glorious whole. 
 So wonderfully made, with ruthless hand 
 Hath made for wretchedness, and pain, 
 A dismal dwelling, and a house of woe. 
 
 Twice twenty centuries hath aged Time 
 The varied seasons lapse beheld, and on 
 Their mighty axles countless worlds revolv'd,
 
 THE BIRTH OF CHRrST. 73 
 
 Since hapless Eve, of God's forewarning voice 
 
 Rejjardlcss, and by hell's designing prince 
 
 With specious words deceiv'dj from that curst tree 
 
 (Deny'd to man its fair, forbidden fruit) 
 
 Allur'd to taste, the fatal penalty, 
 
 The curse of guilt, and disobedience 
 
 On all posterity entail'd. Too long, — 
 
 Oh much too long beneath the tyranny 
 
 Of thy despotic rule, oh Death ! hath man, 
 
 (lu darkness, and impenetrable shade 
 
 His gloomy character envelop'd round) 
 
 Down to the deep recesses of the grave, 
 
 In paths erroneous trod. Now, ruthless fiend, 
 
 Tho' his corporeal frame must still to thee 
 
 Submit ; and though the worn-out energies 
 
 Of his exhausted strength, in happy age; 
 
 When ripe the tottering harvest of his years 
 
 For bliss, for happiness, and joy ; — • 
 
 When cease existence shall, that life more pure^ 
 
 Celestial and extatic may begin. 
 
 By thee congeal'd, and by thy frigid touch 
 
 In fetters lock'd ; in everlasting sleep 
 
 Shall surely rest, the glad, rejoicing soul. 
 
 As God eternal, and by Jesus from 
 
 The fiery sentence of the law repriev'd,
 
 74 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 
 
 And by his grace approvVl, defies thy pow'r. 
 Looks sniiliiig upwards to the starry sky's 
 Resplendent volume ; bright, distinct and clear. 
 And reads, in legible display, the hope 
 Of life and happy immortality ! 
 
 Down to the dark abyss of woe. 
 Remorseless fiend. 
 Oh Death descend. 
 With all thy terrors go : 
 No more insatiate o'er the sufF'ring earth. 
 Thou ghastly monster of a mon'strous birth. 
 Suspend thy fatal wing. 
 Or dart tliy raging sting ; 
 But— as the wintry blast, 
 (The storm, the season past) 
 Before the glorious chariot of the spring. 
 With lagging haste. 
 Reluctant chas'd. 
 The icy horrors of its chilling reign, 
 
 And recent sway 
 To milder influence resigns — 
 Before thy mortal foe, 
 The Virgin's wond'rous Son, 
 With wild dismay.
 
 THE BIRTH OF CHRIS-T, 75 
 
 Down daitin? to thv native hell, 
 On rapid wir.gs, witli all thy hideous train. 
 Return, and there in torment dwell. 
 A mightier Conqueror hath won 
 The guilty world, and lo. 
 Blest as the beacon o'er the stormy main. 
 
 Bespeaks to shipwreck'd wretch the harbournear; 
 Blest as the fertile valley to the swaiii 
 
 Emergins from the wilderness so drear. 
 Like light'ning's beam efFulgent from afar. 
 Stream the bright glories of his natal star ! ! 
 
 He who supports the vaulted sky, 
 Heav'n's blue, capacious canopy — 
 On massy pedestals of air. 
 With never-wearied hand, 
 Earth's beauteous roof, magniticently fair. 
 Upholds in starry grandeur o'er the land — 
 And who, on worlds to us unknown, 
 The gloriuus fabric of his throne, 
 (Himself all space pervading dark and dread) 
 In lustre inconceivable hath spread — 
 Who form'd yon radiant orb of light. 
 In warmth so gen'rous, and so mildly bright ;
 
 76 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 
 
 And this convex, this mighty frame 
 Of heav'nly workmanship, supreme — 
 The dark, unsolv'd enigma man. 
 The creature ignorant to scan 
 The great perfections, myst 'ries of his God, 
 And by himself, himself " least understood." 
 Wilh skill divine, from pregnant womb 
 Of Chaos first conceived. To whom 
 Angelic choirs with touch of fire, 
 
 In songs of love, and rap'trous lays 
 Awake the sweet, according lyre. 
 
 And join the tribute of their praise. 
 The great Inimanuel, hi.s only Son, 
 
 Oh condescension vast, (to save 
 Unworthy, from the grave 
 Rebelious man) hath sent iu mercy down. 
 
 Thy Son, oh God ! who ere the heav'ns beheld 
 
 In silent pomp, so just, so true, 
 Swift circlmg in their azure field 
 
 A thousand worlds their path pursue ; 
 Ere Time his youthful locks display'd ; 
 
 Thro' after years his rapid flight 
 On strong, laborious wings essay'd. 
 
 Or e'er the moon bestov/'d her light ;
 
 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 
 
 Who ere this earth was form'd, (thyself the cause 
 
 That rose her irnm the dark abyss 
 
 Of empty space and nothingness) 
 
 With thee existent, co-eterual was, 
 
 Now leaves, obedient to thy will, the skies., 
 On earth awhile to dwell ; 
 
 Nor scorns to wear a mortal's vile disffuise 
 To snatch a world from hell. 
 
 In man's disgraceful likeness, frame — 
 
 Of mortal mould, celestial flame, — 
 His own etherial fire, his own briglit spirit pours, 
 Man's abject form assumes, and him to life restores. 
 
 Low in a manger, vile, unclean. 
 
 Where lowing kine, th' accustom'd food 
 
 Of late obtain'd ; a dwelling mean. 
 Repose the slumbers of a God. 
 
 O'er the heav'ns extatic region 
 
 Cherub hosts their wings suspend. 
 
 And a bright seraphic legion 
 
 Down to earth in haste descend; 
 
 As soaring eagle from its dizzy height. 
 When chance the destin'd prey, 
 lis piercing eyes survey.
 
 78 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 
 
 Quick as the mind's perceptive glance — 
 
 The rapid thought, the worUl's expan<ie 
 
 Explores; with instant speed its eager flight 
 
 To earth directs, — so thro' the skies impelled, 
 
 Adown the radiant path of light. 
 
 To where, on fair Judea'« happy plains. 
 
 The shepherd swains 
 
 In sweet repose, the labours of the day 
 
 Forget, heav'n's blest inhabitants, their way, 
 
 (To man's astonish'd view 
 Confess'd, in clear, perceptible display) 
 
 On sounding wings pursue. 
 
 On clouds upborne (to angels' cereal feet. 
 
 As waters to the spider's tread ; 
 Unfelt its gentle pressure, swift and fleet. 
 Unyielding, firm, impervious and secure. 
 Suspended on unwearied wing. 
 To man the joyous news they bring 
 That God his life's fair forfeiture 
 By Christ, who lives, oh mighty love to shed 
 His blood in agony for him, hath paid. 
 And for his sins a rich atonement made.
 
 THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 79 
 
 " Fear uot, oh man! we come not to destroy, 
 But, as the bright ambassadors of heav'n ; 
 To us the welcome task is giv'n 
 
 By God to bring good tidings of great joy. 
 
 " Fear not, ye shepherd*, but with one accord 
 To Bethlehem, come, haste away, 
 For know, to you, this glorious day. 
 
 Is born a Saviour, even Christ the Lord."* 
 
 Hear blessed earth, and let the strain 
 
 Of angels, to the skies again 
 
 By thee re-echoed with transported tongue 
 
 Pieturn. Let not a lay, so blest, unsung 
 
 By thee remain. 
 
 Of man's redemption, and his sins forgiv'n 
 
 (Delightful news : from depth of woe 
 
 Escap'd, oh more than double so ;) 
 Himself the happy favorite of heav'n. 
 The sov'reign mercy of his heav'nly king. 
 And God's all-glorious majesty they sing. 
 Hear all ye lands; let ev'ry shore 
 
 Beneath the sun's all-searching ray. 
 The wonders of his love adore. 
 
 And list in rap'trous silence to the lay! ! 
 • See St. Luke, Cliap. ii. Versi'SlO& 11.
 
 so THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. 
 
 Oh had I David's harp, or Gabriel's lyre, 
 
 Cecilia's sweetness, and a voice divine. 
 Did Milton's muse my languid strains inspire, 
 Or were a Dryden's tow'ring genius mine. 
 Then should my rap'trous song in lofty verse. 
 
 And sweet, harmonious lays, 
 Jehovah's bright benevolence rehearse, 
 And sing my Saviour's praise. 
 Then should the winds of heav'n, on balmy wings. 
 To ev'ry shore, to ev'ry land proclaim 
 In joyous notes the great Immanuel's name, 
 And waft the welcome music of mv strings. 
 To scorch'd Arabia's barren plain 
 
 Declare the blessing of his grace ; 
 Nor from the Indian detain 
 
 The glad intelligence of peace. 
 But Fate, alas! hath frown'd upon ray birth i* 
 The school of Nature all the school I knew, 
 Oppressive ign'rance chains me to the earth, 
 
 1 love the Muses' flight, — but can't pursue. 
 God of the universe ! oh grant me this, 
 
 (Beyond my feeble pow'rs;) deny'd by thee. 
 To praise thy matchless love, to share the bliss. 
 And prove a dying Saviour dy'd for me. 
 
 * " Fair Science frown'd not on his humble bath." 
 
 Cray,
 
 CONTENTMENT. 81 
 
 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 " Thy cares forego, 
 All earth-born cares are wrona^; 
 
 Man wants but little here below, 
 Nor wants that little long " 
 
 GoLDSiMITH. 
 
 IS there a blessing, oh my God! 
 
 So independent and so pure. 
 Without the which no good is good. 
 
 And man tho' rich as Craesus poor? 
 Whose cahn dehglits no circumstance of fate, 
 
 Tho' black beyond example cim destroy ; 
 Or vain endeavours of malignant hate, 
 
 Disturb the tranquil current of its joy? 
 Methinks a mild " unearthly voice " I hear 
 
 Descenchng from the skies ; 
 Like heav'nly music on my ravish'd ear 
 
 It breaks, and thus replies :-— 
 G
 
 9% CONTENTMENT. 
 
 " Inquiring mortal, whosoe'er thou art, 
 
 " Who fain wouldst learn of bliss this better part, 
 
 " This noblest use of God-like reason — know, 
 
 *' (For God has nought superior to bestow) 
 
 " Man's prime felicity does not consist 
 
 " In bliss cnjoy'd, but disposition to be blest ! 
 
 " Sigh not for joys to come — for blessings past, 
 
 " But rest in peace ; improve the joys thou hast. 
 
 " If wise, tho' poor thou art, ask not from me 
 
 *' Luxurious ease ; a happier destiny ; 
 
 " Seek not with vain complainings to augment 
 
 •' Thy cares, or plant within thy wounded breast 
 ** Thyself the sting, but ask alone content, 
 
 " And forjn a resolution that thou wilt be blest!" 
 
 Alas ! thou fool, so anxious to obtain 
 Unnecessary riches, paltry dross. 
 
 Learn from thy God, Content alone is gani. 
 The rest is but accession to a loss. 
 
 Yet think not thou the treasure to possess. 
 Still to thy passions and to vice obsceu
 
 CONtENTMfiNf. ^ 
 
 A slave; or liope to find thy troubles less. 
 
 While careless, and neglectful of the mean : 
 First seek with steady aim, the glorious gate 
 
 Of virtue : then, the uoblo vict'ry won, 
 Defy the utmost rigour of thy fate. 
 
 As eagles calmly contemplate the sun! 
 Ignobler fowls, astonish 'd at its blaze. 
 
 Avert in haste their weak and fearful eyes; 
 The eagle loves to ride u{)on its rays, 
 
 And boldly soars to meet it in the skies. 
 Thus while the poor dependants on the world. 
 Shrink from a pigmy's arrow iiupotently hurl'd. 
 In God thou canst securely trust. 
 
 And smile when all the world despair; 
 Enough to know that God is just. 
 
 And thou the creature of his cafe. 
 As Nature's war ; the rude, tumultuous strife, 
 
 When jarring elements contend. 
 Restore the sickly atmosphere to life ; 
 
 And thunders but in blessings end; 
 Th' affliction real, or what thoti fanciest so, 
 
 Tiie faille, imaginary pain, 
 G 2
 
 84 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Is less than mad prosperity thy foe ; 
 
 And easier wisely to sustain. 
 The stagnant pool, whose calm and peaceful breast. 
 
 Redundant osiers shelter from the storm. 
 Engenders in that quietude of rest 
 
 A putrid stench, and many a loathsome form. 
 The current winding o'er its stony bed, 
 
 A feeble check from many a rock shall meet, 
 But still, tho' these its rapid stream impede. 
 
 Its course is certain, and its waves are sweet. 
 The man who wants no earthly blessing. 
 
 Whose lazy life is one dull round of ease. 
 Grows weary of the burthen of |)ossessing. 
 
 For e'en enjoyment cannot ALWAYS please. 
 But happier he who learns betimes to bear. 
 
 And bow with resignation to the rod ; 
 He may complain, but never can despair. 
 
 He has one strong support, and that is — GOD ! 
 In His paternal smile there is a treasure. 
 
 The pauper's wealth, the riches of the poor. 
 Beyond man's weak capacity to measure. 
 
 But not beyond his eft'orts to secure.
 
 CONTENTMENT. SS 
 
 The grateful soul with one poor talent blest. 
 
 Who covets not the ten to others giv'n; 
 Who seeks, who hopes no better interest 
 
 Than peace, a bare sufficiency and — heav'n; 
 Who claims no right of happiness below, 
 
 But learns in heav'n's extalic page to read 
 That God is able, w illing to bestow 
 
 All that a wretch can wisely ask or need ; 
 Who asks but this ; in sweet Content to live ; 
 
 To know that God is gracious, God is kind. 
 Possesses that no monarch's wealth can give, 
 
 • And kings may search the world in vain to fiiidJ 
 Firm as a mountain, stedfast as a rock, 
 
 When round his brow the angry tempests roar. 
 Unhurt, he bears the fury of each shock. 
 
 An unconcern'd spectator of the war. 
 As fearless Pettrell on the mountain waves 
 
 In triunipji rides, exulting in the storm. 
 Undaunted he his boist'rous fate outbraves. 
 
 And finds e'en poverty may have its charm ! 
 Looks up with great astonishment on kings. 
 
 The glare of equipage and dress,
 
 96 CONTENTMENT*. 
 
 And asks " does comfort in these paltry things 
 
 Consist, and is this happiness V 
 " Alas, poor wretch ! the' boundless wealth is thine. 
 
 It yields no pleasure, yields no joys to thee ; 
 Poor are thy pleasures, poor thy joys to mine 
 
 Compar'd : Content is wealth ; is all to me." 
 Then from the vain parade in haste retires. 
 
 With lighter heart to solitude obscure ; 
 His humble cot with double zest admires. 
 
 And thanks the God that made and keeps him 
 poor. 
 Clasps his lov'd infants to his grateful breast. 
 
 And with the fond Cornelia of old, 
 Exclaims " here are my jewels ;" here I'm blest ; 
 
 Here are my treasures, and I ask not gold. 
 
 Hard was thy fate, oh Demas ! thou whose wealth 
 A patriarch's life would scarce suffice to tell ; 
 Who sold thy conscience, and thy languid health 
 Destroy'd, to gain a glitt'ring bribe from hell- 
 Scarce had thy feeble limbs, in daring mood, 
 The tott'ring step of infancy essay'd.
 
 CONTENTMENT. Sf 
 
 Ere Av'rice chill'd the current of thy blood. 
 
 And thee to woe and misery betray'd. 
 Gold was thy darlina; passion, gold thy god. 
 
 And well thy god repaid thy care ; 
 Incrcas'd thy riches, till thy bags o'erflow'd, 
 
 And gave with countless wealth — despair. 
 Large tho' thy treasures, and thy fertile land 
 
 A petty kingdom, and thy slaves not few, 
 Midas more gold, more acres number'd, — and 
 
 For each thou had'st, oh agony ! had two! 
 Poor, envious wretch ! thou could'sl not bear that he 
 
 Should one more yard of dirl than thou possess; 
 Alas ! 'twas perfect misery to tliee 
 
 To know thy gold by one poor guinea less. 
 The scanty meal, (ungrateful to the taste. 
 
 And grudg'd so much) of late thy frugal board 
 Sustain'd, now dwindles to a less repast. 
 
 And worse the food thy griping hands afford. 
 Nor on thy single self stich sorrow fell. 
 
 But doom'd thy fate to share, (as not alone 
 Descended Satan to astonish'd hell,) 
 
 So Deraas fell, and drew a thousand down.
 
 S8 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Inur'd to woe, familiar to despair. 
 
 The friendless widow to increase thy store. 
 Gave all she had to give, a mite, a tear,* 
 
 And orphans claim'd their lost inheritance no 
 more. 
 'Twas thy ambition — well my gentle muse 
 
 The " rising blush," the conscious hue of shame. 
 At such misnomer may thy cheeks suffuse. 
 
 When Av'rice bears Ambition's injur'd name. 
 Thy narrow soul, oh Demas! had not scope 
 
 To nurse a passion generous as this ; 
 'Twas not ambition, but a sordid hope 
 
 Midas to equal, and more gold possess. 
 This wish'd event, superior wealth to gain. 
 
 Insulted heav'n, thy ceaseless pray'rs addrest, 
 Heav'n heard thee not ; proclaim'd thy wishes vain ; 
 
 Despis'd thy vows ; deny'd the vile request. 
 Midas was still too rich for thee to bear; 
 
 In vain each dark, each black resource was try'd. 
 Then Demas sunk a victim to despair, 
 
 Clasp'd his lov'd bags, and breath'd a curse, and 
 dy'd. 
 
 * '* He gave to mis'ry all he could — a tear." 
 
 Gray.
 
 CONTENTMENT. 89 
 
 Oh thou, the wretch of hard and thankless lieart. 
 
 Who, Demas-like, to swell thy ample store. 
 Canst meanly stoop to act the miser's part, 
 
 And much possessing still desirest more; 
 This fatal rock oh learn betimes to shun, 
 
 And know increase of wealth would but increase 
 Thy cares. Man's happiest lot " beneath the sun" 
 
 Is calm Content, and innocence, and peace. 
 
 He best can judge who made our nature frail. 
 What pray'rs to answer, and what ought to fail : 
 Who feels no lust for what the world calls good, 
 Tho' poor on earth may still be rich in God. 
 To bear with meekness all thai he bestows, 
 Is sov'reign balm to heal a thousand woes. 
 Tis not in wealth to give the bosom peace. 
 Or vast domains to set the mind at ease. 
 Afflictions lift the soul to purer skies. 
 And troubles are but " blessings in disguise." 
 E'en I, tho' young, am not exempt from cares. 
 And e'en this sod I've moisten'd with my tears;
 
 90 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 But still, tlio' stubborn nature, may complain, 
 
 I know 'tis for my int'rest in the main. 
 
 And .trust my God will help me to sustain. 
 
 Existence is a stormy sea at best, 
 
 And we below can ne'er be wholly blest. 
 
 Mankind's best hopes are fix'd beyond the grave; 
 
 And till life ends we scarce begin to live : 
 
 Yet he who thinks no lot superior to his own, 
 
 At least is happy by comparison ; 
 
 He life enjoys, divested of its sting. 
 
 And feels his i>altry self, a prince, a king ! 
 
 The natives of a sterile shore, 
 
 Where scarce the rocks can give 
 
 Sufficient from their stinted store, 
 Whereof to " eat and live, 
 
 Unus'd on luxuries to feed. 
 
 And much inur'd to want. 
 
 Possessing nothing, nothing need. 
 Nor feel their blessings scant- 
 
 }
 
 ON CONTENTMENT. ^t 
 
 The joys of fortune, wealth, and pow'r 
 
 Are fleetmg, false, and vain ; 
 Fate may disperse them in an hour. 
 
 And turn the whole to pain. 
 Then let the world still pant for gain. 
 
 By ceaseless cares opprest. 
 And live unhappy to obtain 
 
 The means to make them blest ; 
 111 not disturb my halcyon peace, 
 
 Tho' little is my store ; 
 Or lessen what I now possess 
 
 By vain desires for more. 
 While bounteous heav'n enough bestows,. 
 
 And all my ivants su})plies. 
 And hush'd in undisturb'd repose 
 
 Each murm'ring passion lies ; 
 With thee. Content, I'll hand in hand 
 
 My humble path pursue. 
 We'll pluck each flow'r thnt sweets expand, 
 
 And leave the pois'nous few. 
 Like the bright beams of noon-day sun. 
 
 Thy smiles shall cheer the road:
 
 $2 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Shall gently warn me what to shun, 
 And guide me to the good. 
 
 Calm as the sea's unruffled breast. 
 My days shall glide away. 
 
 Than Fortune's favorites more blest. 
 And richer far than they.
 
 ELEGY ON A LADY. 93 
 
 ELEGY 
 
 ON A VIRTUOUS, BUT UNFORTUNATE 
 
 YOUNG LADY. 
 
 BENEATH the shadow of yon weeping tree. 
 That looks in solemn sadness o'er the plain, 
 
 Of care unconscious and from sorrow free. 
 Lies the sad victim of disease and pain. 
 
 2. 
 
 As wand'ring bees, by specious flow'rs betray'd. 
 On rapid wings the well-known hive regain. 
 
 With curious eye her gentle soul survey 'd 
 
 The world, and sought its native skies again. 
 
 No sculptured records o'er her ashes rise, 
 
 No splendid trophies of the rich man's tomb ; 
 
 No hackney 'd verse salutes our wond'ring eyes, 
 To break the silence of sepulchral gloom.
 
 94 "ELEGY ON A LADY; 
 
 4. 
 
 No train of priests in sable vestments clad, 
 
 Have sung the " last sad requiem o'er her bier;" 
 
 No specious friends, with downcast looks and sad 
 Weep with feign'd tears and sorrow insincere ; 
 
 No sable plumes wav'd mournful o'er her hearse. 
 To mock with combat vain the yielding air; 
 
 No silken sliroud enfolds her pallid corse, 
 
 Nor decent shade her livid features wear. 
 
 6. 
 
 Alas, how chang'd the scene, once she was fair, 
 Blithesome and happy as the live-long day; 
 
 To harmless mirth a friend, a foe to care. 
 
 With smiles she chas'd tlie wrinkled guest away. 
 
 7. 
 But vain th' attempt, and fruitless is the task. 
 
 To sing the praises of the silent dead ; 
 Insensible to all, no praise they ask. 
 
 Nor heed the tears by heav'n-sii'd Pity shed :
 
 EtECY ON A LADY. QS 
 
 8 
 
 What tho' no records o'er he^- ashes rise, 
 
 Nor splendid trophies of the rich man's tomb ; 
 
 What tho' no verse salutes our wond'ring eyes. 
 To break the silence of sepulchral gloom ; 
 
 9. 
 What tho' no priests in sable v stments clad. 
 
 Have sung the " last sad requiem o'er her bier,'' 
 What tho' no friends with down-cast looks and sad 
 
 Weep with feign'd tears and sorrow insincere ; 
 
 JO. 
 
 What tho' no plumes wav'd mournful o'er her hearse. 
 To mock with combat vain the yieldmg air ; 
 
 What tho' no silken shroud enfolds her corse. 
 Nor decent shade her livid features wear ; 
 
 11. 
 
 The loss she feels not, nor the want deplores. 
 
 But sleeps in peace beneath the grass-grown sod; 
 
 Hush'd are her pangs, and venomless her sores. 
 Still is her heart, and motionless her blood.
 
 S6 ELEGY ON A LADY. 
 
 12. 
 
 Not heaps immense of rich Pactolean ore. 
 
 With all the hidden treasures of the deep. 
 
 Could raise o'er vice so fair a sepulchre 
 
 As her's, or purchase half so sound a sleep. 
 
 13. 
 
 When shining worlds to Chaos shall return. 
 And Fate shall bid the drowsy dead arise. 
 
 Her soul shall mount on Seraph's wings upborne 
 To heav'n, and soar exulting thro' the skies.
 
 HOME. 97 
 
 II O M E. 
 
 1. 
 
 A ling'ring length of misery and pain, 
 
 From Troy retiiniing, sad Ulysses bore. 
 With crazy barks condemn'd to plough the main. 
 
 And cast on many a rude. Barbarian shore. 
 Borne with his mournful friends o'er stormy seas 
 
 From coast to coast the exil'd hero flies. 
 Disdains the sweets of still, inglorious ease, 
 
 Plies the swift oar, and still pursues the prize. 
 Sweet smiling Hope expands the swelling sail. 
 
 And gently sooths the perils of the way. 
 Nor adverse winds, nor proffer'd crowns prevail. 
 
 In foreign climes the wand'rer's steps to stay ; 
 Nor fair Calypso can his faithful band detain. 
 And artful Circe tries her potent spells in vain. 
 
 H
 
 9S HOME. 
 
 2. 
 
 If one should ask, whose lips ne'er breath'd its praise. 
 
 Or lov'd to linger on his country's name. 
 Why Ithacus thus tempts the raging seas. 
 
 Why braves the billows, what the hero's aim ? 
 What strong attraction wings his rapid flight 
 
 From beauty's arms, from sweet Idalian bow'rs. 
 From blissful scenes of ever-new delight 
 
 To court destruction on unfriendly shores ? 
 Twas love of Home, beyond all ties most sweet. 
 
 This pow'rful charm that swell'd his patriot breast ; 
 Twas this inspir'd the remnant of his fleet. 
 
 And led them on still eager to be blest. 
 Its sacred name, its praises trembled on each tongue. 
 And Home, dear Home, on ev'ry lip with transports. 
 
 bung. 
 
 3. 
 
 Ye guardian-spirits of my native vale 
 
 Where first my limbs in infant sports attain'd 
 
 This firm elastic spring, why sighs my soul 
 
 A " pensive hour" amidst your wopds to spend ?
 
 ftOME. 99 
 
 Tis nature rules Uie longings of my breast. 
 
 And forth inipells tlie involuntary tear. 
 For tho' from Home I still remain unblest 
 
 My heart's best half, my soul, is ever near. 
 When midnight shadows lengthen on the plain. 
 
 And dVowsy darkness lulls me to repose, 
 My spirit seeks her recent haunts again, 
 
 And joyous smiles on scenes of bliss bestows. 
 Renews acquaintance with her vegetable friends. 
 And o'er the cot where first I breath'd her hov'ring 
 wings extends. 
 
 4. 
 
 Ye silver brooks, ye clear pellucid streams 
 
 That K— 's fair fields with cool luxuriance lave, 
 
 Borne on whose billows no proud vessel swims. 
 
 Nor commerce breaks the silence of the wave ; 
 Ye sylvan sov'reigns of the peaceful shade 
 
 Where musing contemplation loves to dwell, 
 Ye tripping fairies of the verdant glade 
 
 Where mystic rings of nightly visits tell ; 
 
 H 2
 
 100 HOME. 
 
 Ye blest retreats, where oft I've trembling stood 
 When black'ning clouds bespoke the tempest near. 
 
 Or thund'ring peals, terrifically loud 
 
 In awful murmurs linger'd thro' the air ; 
 
 Surpassing all, thou dear, and ever blessed grove. 
 
 Where first my faithful maid confess'd and owu'd her 
 love! 
 
 5. 
 
 While here, with smoke envelop'd round, I toil. 
 
 Inhaling with the foul pestifrous breeze 
 A pcis'nous atmosphere, impure, and vile. 
 
 Sure source of languor, sickness, and disease; 
 While here amidst this theatre of noise. 
 
 And pleasures false, alluring to betray. 
 Of splendid woe, and vain fantastic joys. 
 
 An exiled youth reluctantly I stay ; 
 Oh say! when pain, when disappointment sours. 
 
 And retrospection's gentle sighs intrude, 
 What sweet companion of my lonely hours. 
 
 Have I to cheer " this peopled solitude 2"
 
 HOME. 181 
 
 'Tis life-supporting hope assures my days at Home 
 1 yet shall eud, and speaks of happiness to come ! ! 
 
 Yet not fco me the blest desire is given 
 
 As my peculiar birth-right, mine alone. 
 Nor lives a wretch beneath the arch of heav'u 
 
 But loves his Home, and most admires his own. 
 Emphatic nature whispers in his ear, 
 
 (And who with eloquence like her's can plead 1) 
 " Behold all earthly blessings centcr'd here. 
 
 In this thy Home, thy Paradise indeed." 
 The rugged rocks beneath her plastic hand 
 
 With more than fam'd Arcadian sweetness smile. 
 As beauties rise upon the happy land. 
 
 And chain his ardent spirit to tlie soil. 
 With undiminish'd force the charm till death remains, 
 And pours a youthful current thro' his aged veins. 
 
 The insatiate thirst of gain to distant climes 
 The freighted vessel from her "native shore"
 
 102 HOME. 
 
 Attracts. O'er pathless seas immense she swims. 
 
 And bears to wide-stretch'd realms remote her store. 
 The fruitful stream of sev^n-mouth'd Nile ascends. 
 
 Or courts Arabia's odorif'rous gale. 
 To Afric's point her glowing course she bends. 
 
 Or near Spitsbergen spreads the stiffen'd sail. 
 To Italy perhaps her varied way 
 
 The heav'n-preserv'd, the well-stor'd ship pursues. 
 Or where the Southern Seas their isles display. 
 
 Or Ganges' waves their sacred streams diffuse. 
 With ample canvass to the prosp'rous breeze unfnrl'd. 
 Conveys the destin'd freightage to the Westera 
 World. 
 
 8. 
 
 Of absent friends, of joyous Home meanwhile 
 The crew converse. In social chat the way 
 
 Of half its weary, tedious length beguile, 
 And various countries, various scenes survey. 
 
 Each diff'rent land its native charms shall boast. 
 Each diff'rent shore a diff'rent aspect wear.
 
 »OME. 103 
 
 Some blooming grace appears on ev'ry coast. 
 And all have charms, tlio' not alike all fair. 
 
 Eternal verdure, and an endless spring. 
 Serenely smile on fair Italia's shore; 
 
 Nutritious fruits the Southern Islands bring. 
 And Afric's woods their fallen masts restore. 
 
 Perfum'd Arabia yields her fragrant sweets, and Nile 
 
 Th' abundant harvest pours upon the fertile soil. 
 
 Each favour'd country shall at last possess 
 
 The transient charm that novelty supplies; 
 And poor that land which no peculiars bless. 
 
 And e'en its sons th' inheritance despise. 
 While thus the wide-extended world arouud 
 
 With patient sufferance the wand'rers roam. 
 Oh shall not one attractive spot be found 
 
 Superior to the dull, insipid Home 1 
 If, worthy reader, thou a trav'ller art. 
 
 And half, nay all the yet-known world hast seen. 
 Repeat that question to thy answ'ring heart. 
 
 And judge of others constancy by thine :
 
 104 HOME. 
 
 Nor they, nor thou e'er yet belield sweet Home 
 
 surpass'd, 
 Or ceas'd to hug its fond remembrance to the last! 
 
 10. 
 
 Ye vile unfeeling butchers of the race. 
 
 Ye hell-hounds, fiends, insensible to shame. 
 To human-nature scandalous disgrace. 
 
 Ye men of blood, unworthy of the name. 
 Who scruple not, (oh horrible to tell. 
 
 And scarce my lips the dreadful tale unfold,) 
 To tear the Negro from his Home, and sell 
 
 A brother's flesh, a brother's blood for gold; 
 Who not one sigh of sympathy bestow 
 
 A just abhorrence of the TRADE to speak. 
 And can unmov'd behold the tears that flow. 
 
 In " briny torrents" down his " care-worn" cheek : 
 And cruel as the roaring Tyger o'er his rended prey. 
 In pond'rous chains your curst authority display ! ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Nor less, ye planters, ye who share their crimes. 
 To Mercy, Justice, and remorse unknown,
 
 HOME. 105 
 
 Whose grov'ling souls no gen'rous Avannth sublimes. 
 
 And Pity's cliildren blush asham'd to own ; 
 O'er whom cold avarice, that prince of hell 
 
 With pow'r resistless as the light'ning reigns. 
 And who by legal, piece-meal murder swell 
 
 The excessive mieasure of your ill-got gains; 
 Whose nervous arms, by daily practice strong 
 
 The knotted lash with barb'rous force apply. 
 Around his shoulders wind the dreadful thong. 
 
 And w ho with smiles behold his agony ; 
 Who dare' man's unalienable rights t' invade 
 And God's own image to the rank of brute degrade!!! 
 
 12. 
 
 What heav'nly power, what high behest of God, 
 
 What charter'd birthright and what law divine. 
 Hath sauction'd aud approv'd the trade of blood. 
 
 Or authoriz'd your barbarous design? 
 Oh worse than murderers ? what poor excuse. 
 
 What curious, specious pretext will ye plead 
 To gild the horror of this foul abuse 
 
 Of petty pow'r, this cruelty indeed ?
 
 106 HOME. 
 
 Ye curst abortions of the human race 
 
 Tho' atfluence by means like these ye gain. 
 
 Repose and peace reject your loath'd embrace. 
 And sleepless nights succeed to days of pain. 
 
 Fly, fly, Barbarians, to retirement quickly go. 
 
 And let uncheck d the tears of deep repentance floAV. 
 
 13. 
 
 By ruffian force, and rude, resistless pow'r. 
 
 To distant lands inevitably borne. 
 Behold the Savage from his sultry shore. 
 
 From parents, children, friends, and country torn 
 The clust'ring tears that down his manly cheek 
 
 Their burning course impetuous pursue. 
 In Nature's language eloquently speak 
 
 His inward pangs, and choak his last adieu; 
 As Troy's proud hope reluctant left the strand 
 
 When coward Greece the proffer'd war decliu'd. 
 Thus leaves the ling'ring wretch his native land. 
 
 But leaves, for ever leaves, his heart behind ;
 
 HOME. IO7 
 
 And still his streaming eyes ia agony explore 
 
 The well-known windings of the swift receding shore. 
 
 14. 
 
 To Afric's Gods the loud convulsive pray'r 
 
 He breathes, and asks oblivion in the grave f 
 Poor fool, of fate so blest as this despair. 
 
 There is no hope, no comfort for the slave. 
 Swift flies the bounding vessel o'er the tide. 
 
 Nor adverse wind her onward way detains ; 
 Tiie subject waves before her path divide. 
 
 And soon, too soon, the destin'd port she gains. 
 Assembling crowds, impatient of delay. 
 
 With eager haste her steepy sides ascend. 
 The living freight with curious eyes survey. 
 
 And o'er each limb their rude licentious hand« 
 extend ; 
 With critic glance explore the captive's manly frame, 
 A lucky scoundrel buys, and brands him with his name.
 
 108 HOME. 
 
 15. 
 
 Alas ! within that rough, unfeeling breast 
 
 No gentle chord of sweet compassion lies ; 
 The worse-than-brute denies the needful rest. 
 
 And scarce the necessary food supplies. 
 In vain t' extort the kind, approving smile. 
 
 His slave's strong limbs unusual powers display. 
 Abuse, and foul reproach reward his toil. 
 
 And vast exertions cruel stripes repay. 
 No friend has he with lenient hands to slope 
 
 Life's steep ascent; — the bed of death prepare; 
 Nor one pale gleam of life-inspiring Hope 
 
 Affords a transient refuge from despair. 
 Incessant streams of Avoe suffuse his weeping eyes ; 
 He drags a loath'd existence, and by inches dies. 
 
 16. 
 
 Yet sage logicians assure mankind 
 The mournful martyr shall at once estrange 
 
 His heart from Home. In ev'ry land shall find 
 A much superior lot, and bless the change ! ! !
 
 HOME. 109 
 
 But should avenging Fate the scene reverse. 
 
 And Europe's sons their sable lords obey. 
 Their change would these admire, or would the 
 curse 
 
 That spoke the soul, contented ease display ? 
 Absurd belief ! Ye advocates of shame 
 
 Full well ye know the slave ne'er yet preferr'd 
 Exotic niis'ry to his country's claim. 
 
 For Nature speaks aloud, and will be heard. 
 Nor breathes in breast of man one passion fond and 
 
 free. 
 As love of darling Home, and smiling liberty. 
 
 17. 
 
 The starv'd Siberian from eternal snow. 
 
 And rigid frost to warmer regions bear. 
 Where milder skies euliv'ning warmth bestow. 
 
 And flow'ry vales a gay luxuriance wear. 
 In perfect freedom let the strange Uncouth 
 
 O'er verdant plains, or splendid palace roam. 
 And say, bball sights like these inspire the youth 
 
 With less regard, with less esteem for Home.
 
 110 HOME. 
 
 Oh no ! The weary traveller awhile 
 
 Will glance a tir'd survey with curious haste. 
 
 Expand his homely features in a smile, 
 
 And pause astonish'd at our want of taste ! ! 
 
 Then seek, with speedy steps, Siberia's sterile plain. 
 
 And thank his stars he breathes his native air again ! 
 
 18. 
 
 Thou Great Supreme, whose wise, all-bounteous hand 
 
 No partial fondness, no distinction knows. 
 But kind to all alike, on every land 
 
 Its own peculiar source of bliss bestows : 
 Oil hadst thou not within each fosl'ring breast 
 
 This sacred stream of firm attachment pour'd. 
 Then man with others, more supremely blest 
 
 Had weigh'd his lot, and Home despis'd, abhor'd. 
 But more than blest with this, his barren fields 
 
 As fertile plains his partial eyes survey; 
 Prolific sand a rich abundance yields. 
 
 And Nature keeps a jocund holiday. 
 Beneath the sun no country can with his compare. 
 Hath friends so friendly, or hath fair-ones half so 
 fair.
 
 HOME. Ill 
 
 19. 
 
 And doth not one sweet spot uurival'd rise. 
 
 All bliss containing in itself alone 1 
 Oh yes ! A land there is bevond the skies, 
 
 Which ev'ry tongue must far superior own : 
 A land so fair, no earthly tongue can tell 
 
 The half its charms : that strikes expression dumb; 
 A land where joys beyond conception dwell, 
 
 And all «ho seek shaH surely find a Home. 
 Be this the gen'ral lot of all to know 
 
 Tho' here the spirit makes her short abode. 
 We are but transient passengers below, 
 
 In difF'rent ways returning home to God. 
 There safe arriv'd, nor earth, or hell, can lead 
 
 astray, 
 Or clouds eclipse the glories of eternal day.
 
 112 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 1. 
 
 Oh sacred Friendship, thou whose soothing aid 
 Like Gilead's balm each fest'ring wound can heal. 
 
 Oh shall I woo thee, pensive, in the shade, 
 Or lov'st thou in the crowded court to dwell 1 
 
 2. 
 
 Oh could I learn where thou art to be found. 
 Pure, holy, firm, affectionate, sincere. 
 
 O'er ocean's waves to earth's mysterious bound 
 rd seek thy smiles, and end existence there !
 
 TO-MORROW..- 113 
 
 TO-MORROW; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THO SIDES TO A QUESTIQN. 
 
 1- .• . ,.■■.. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 A 
 
 Oh! iiiajr'st thou never spritijg to lighty ' ■ ■* 
 Blacji day of horror and affright, . ..V.' 
 
 Replete with sqrrow ; 
 But still ;u Hell's unsightly womb, r > ^ •; 
 At onc^ thy parent and thy tomb, v/o • K 
 
 Still rest To-morrow II 
 
 Oh time ! suspend unmov'd thy wings, •' ■ ^ 
 For know accurst To-morrow brings ^ > 
 
 Excess of woe ; • (> .; 
 
 Shall come with nus'ry in. its train, 
 And great, intplerable pain, .... '. 
 
 And tears shall flow ! 
 I
 
 114 TO-MORROW. 
 
 3' 
 
 The wretch To-morrow led to death 
 Resigns in agony his breath, 
 
 (So fate ordains,) 
 To-morrow shall tlie death-bell toll 
 A dreadful summons to his soul 
 
 To burst its chains! 
 
 Observe how spiritless he lies. 
 
 With elapsed hands, and streaming eyes. 
 
 And heaving breast; 
 How comfortless his stench'd abode. 
 How dark his dwelling and' — oh God ! 
 
 Afford him rest. 
 
 5. 
 
 To-morrow to the withered arms 
 Of age, a maid resigns her charms 
 
 In hopeless sorrow ; 
 To nerveless apathy allied, 
 A wedded widow, and a bride. 
 
 She dreads the Morrow.
 
 TO-MOUROW. 115 
 
 6. 
 
 To-morrow shall some bankrupt swain. 
 Whom flinty creditors distrain. 
 
 To prison go : 
 Doom'd by unfeeling avarice 
 To equal punishment with vice. 
 
 And equal woe. 
 
 7. 
 
 To-morrow shall the trumpet pour 
 Its brazen notes, and cannons roar. 
 
 And drums shall rattle ; 
 And sturdy warriors haste to prove 
 In deeds of death their patriot love. 
 
 And die in battle. 
 
 8. 
 
 To-morrow shall some doating sire 
 Behold his cherish'd heir expire. 
 
 Distort with pain ; 
 Some mournful mother wildly rave 
 To snatch an infant from the grave, 
 
 Alas ! in vain. 
 
 I 2
 
 Il5 TO-MORROW.- 
 
 9.. 
 
 To-nioiTOw shall some fallen Lord 
 Desert the sickly world, abhor'd. 
 
 For solitude: 
 Some Minister in foul disgrace, 
 Depriv'd of pension, pow'r, and place. 
 
 His reign conclude. 
 
 10. 
 
 Some wealthy merchant, (rich no more) 
 His vessels stranded on the shore. 
 
 Or buried deep , , 
 
 Beneath th' unfathomable wave. 
 His lost estate, (impossible to save) 
 
 In anguish weep. 
 
 1.1 f 
 
 Then still reposing in the west 
 In endless sleep To-morrow rest. 
 
 And still abide; 
 And 'neath a dark eternal night 
 Thy beams, obnoxious to the sight. 
 
 In pity hide ! !
 
 TO-MORROW. IIT 
 
 TO-MORROW; 
 
 OR, 
 
 TWO SIDES TO A QUESTION. 
 
 PART II. 
 Being a Parody upon Part I. 
 
 Oh raay'st thou quickly spring to h'ght. 
 Sweet day of pleasure aiul delight. 
 
 Unknown to sorrow ; 
 Repose not in the night's dark shade. 
 But swift as she by gold betray d,* 
 
 Come haste To-morrow I 
 
 Exert, oh Time ! thy rapid wings. 
 For know the blest To-morrow brings 
 
 Excess of joy ; 
 Shall come with pleasure in its traui. 
 Nor shall intrusive, transient pain 
 
 Its raptures cloy I 
 
 * Atalanta.
 
 118 TO-MORROW. 
 
 3. 
 
 The saint to-morrow blest in death 
 Resigns in quiet peace his breath, 
 
 (So God ordains.) 
 To-morrow shall the death bell toll : 
 A token that his joyful soul 
 
 Hath burst its chains, 
 
 4. 
 
 How placid, how serene he lies. 
 
 With elapsed hands, and beaming eyes^ 
 
 And tranquil breast ; 
 He smiles at pain's afflictive rod. 
 And seems, supported by his God 
 
 Already blest. 
 
 5. 
 
 To-morrow to the vig'rous arms 
 
 Of youth, a maid resigns her charms^ 
 
 In beauty's flow'r: 
 To equal age by love allied, 
 To-morrow she becomes a bride, 
 
 A maid no more.
 
 TO-MORROW. liy 
 
 6. 
 
 To-morrow shall some bankrupt swain. 
 Whom flinty creditors detain 
 
 In prison wall, 
 Restor'd to life, to hope again. 
 His long lost liberty regain. 
 
 Perhaps his all. 
 
 . 7. 
 
 To-morrow shall the flagons pour 
 
 Their streams, and flow shall turtles gore, 
 
 At city meeting ; 
 And many a cit shall haste to prove. 
 What none can e'er dispute, hh love 
 
 For " FAMOUS EATING ! ! '' 
 
 8. 
 
 To-morrow shall some doting sire 
 Behold and clasp his truant heir. 
 
 His darling boy ; 
 An anxious mother shall again 
 Her lovely daughter fondly strain, 
 
 Her pride and joy.
 
 120 TO-MORROW. 
 
 9. 
 
 To-morrow shall some exil'd lord . „^ 
 
 Return to wealth and rank restor'd, .;,>V'r 
 
 From solitude ; "J. 
 
 Some minister by special grace ; 'i!';: 'i 
 Obtain at last tbe envied plafce,^;: - .t ;,' jlH 
 
 So long pursued. . .:... .^', ';':$' 
 
 .10. 
 
 Some wealthy merchant from the shore, .-■ . 
 With watchful sight extended o'er ; : -: .' i. 
 
 The w at 'ry plain, ; ,' ' A 
 
 Shall see triumphant o'er the tide .,-. i; . \ 
 His pregnant barks in safety ride, -. i UiW'i' 
 
 And count his gain, . ^t .1 
 
 11. 
 
 And I to-morrow shall behold, . ,■ ' 
 
 (Oh ! Fate thou canst not sure withhold .,v 
 
 My heart from this) • f 
 
 And circling in these blessed arms ., , \ 
 My lovely "maid in all her charms" . ., 
 
 Expire with bliss. . .
 
 Un^KV^I 
 
 TO-MORROW, 121 
 
 12. 
 
 Then by the S— v — n's silver stream 
 (Oh joy ! oh extacy supreme !) 
 
 We'll fondly stray ; 
 I'll tell her, " for ingenious truth 
 The constant stream resembles youth. 
 
 Resembles thee." 
 
 13. 
 
 Then like a gem from coat releas'd. 
 Emerging from the radiant east 
 
 To bless the dale. 
 Thy joyous beams of op'ning light. 
 Oh sweet To-morrow ! to the sight 
 
 In haste unveil ! !
 
 122 LINES TO A fRiEND. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 A FEMAI.E FRIEND OF THE A V THORNS 
 ON HER SINGING. 
 
 1. 
 
 O'er the desert dark and dreary. 
 
 O'er the barren scorching waste, 
 
 Tentless, friendless, lost and weary. 
 See the fainting pilgrim haste. 
 
 2. 
 
 All is stillness, all is sleeping. 
 
 Save the playful zephyrs breath, 
 
 Restless phantoms, nightly weeping, 
 Tellmg dreadful tales of death. 
 
 3. 
 
 Silent as the placid ocean. 
 
 Tranquil as the icy wave, 
 Hush'd is nature's busy motion; — 
 
 'Tis the silence of the grave.
 
 LINES TO A FRIEND. 12S 
 
 4. 
 
 Hark ! a distant murmur lingers 
 
 On the wanton breeze express'd, 
 
 Tis the touch of heav'niy fingers, 
 Tk the vespers of the blest ! 
 
 Forms immortal, softly sighing, 
 Down the liquid ether sail; 
 
 Strings harmonious, wildly dying 
 Gently whisper to the gale. 
 
 bt 
 
 Now the wond'ring wretch surrounding 
 They the joyous notes prolong, 
 
 Strains melodious, sweetly sounding. 
 Sweep the harps of heav'n along. 
 
 7. 
 
 On his staff astonish'd leaning. 
 See the lonely trav'Uer stay; 
 
 Ev'ry zephyr fondly gleaning. 
 Wildly listening to the lay.
 
 124 LINES TO A FRIEND. 
 
 8. 
 
 Hear the seraph-minstrels warble. 
 
 See the pilgrim's frame coiigeal'd, 
 
 Fix'd as they to forms of marble 
 
 Chang'd by curst Perseau shield. 
 
 9. 
 
 Nor the night, the distance weary 
 
 Now the trav'ller's thoughts employ: 
 
 Here he could for ever tarry, 
 
 Fix'd in bliss, absorb'd in joy. 
 
 10. 
 
 Lost: as he (iu transient wonder 
 
 List'ning to an angel's lay,) 
 O'er the waste of life I wander; 
 
 Dark and cheerless is the way. 
 
 11. 
 
 Foes have frown'd, and friends have slighted^ 
 Scarce, oh sun ! I flelt thy glow 
 
 E'er I sunk in youth benighted, '. 
 
 Young in years — but old in woe.
 
 LINES TO A FRIEND. 125 
 
 Heav'n, my feir, to soothe my wailuig 
 
 Gave the love of song to me, 
 Gave an ear of rapt'rous feelhig. 
 
 And a seraph's voice to thee. 
 
 When my bosom, proudly swellmg, ' 
 
 Scarce my burstuig heart contains, 
 
 Tis thy voice, my cares dispelling. 
 Steals Elisium o'er my pains. 
 
 14. 
 
 When extatic, solemn measures • -> 
 
 On thy trembling lips expire. 
 Sure thou steal'st Apollo's treasures — ' 
 
 Tis the language of his lyre \ 
 
 15. 
 
 Angels then their wings extending 
 
 Blest to hear a mortal lay, 
 Down the pathless skies descending 
 
 Darl the glories of their way :
 
 126 LINES TO A friend; 
 
 16, 
 
 Raptures fresh, and joy increasing. 
 Long the choir of heav'n detain, 
 
 'Till the soft attraction ceasiusr 
 
 Bids them seek the skies again. 
 
 17. 
 
 Canst thou chide the tear for glist'ning. 
 Or forbid the tear to flow 1 
 
 'Tis the painful bliss of list'nmg, 
 'Tis the extacy of woe ! 
 
 18. 
 
 Sweeter than a bed of roses 
 
 Blushing welcome to the day ; 
 
 Sweeter than a babe reposes, 
 
 Are thy songs, my fair, to me !
 
 THE DAYS THAT ARE PAST. 127 
 
 THE DAYS 
 
 THAT ARE PAST 
 
 1. 
 
 Oh why should I grieve for the days that are past. 
 When a stream of delight gaily flow'd in each vein. 
 
 For my dear native cot, or homely repast. 
 
 Or pleasures I've tasted ne'er to taste them again? 
 
 2. 
 
 Oh why should I sigh for tlie sweets that are fled. 
 
 As the leaves of the rose aredispers'd by the wind; 
 When the rude northern blast sweeps cold o'er its bed 
 And they leave but the sense of their fragrance 
 behind ? 
 
 3. 
 
 Tho* torrents of tears (like the grief-stricken fair * 
 
 When she wept for the fate of her children) I shed. 
 Can grief a past blessing restore, or a tear 
 
 Wake the shades of the blest from the dust of the 
 dead ? 
 
 • Niobe.
 
 128 THE DAYS THAT ARE PAST. 
 
 4. 
 
 Oh Mem'ry, false maid, sure a God ne'er design'd 
 When he bade thee descend to the plain here below. 
 
 With eyes sadly fix'd on the beauties behind. 
 
 That the landscape should wear the dark aspect of 
 woe ! 
 
 - • ' 5. ■' '■' ' ' 
 
 He gave thee. to man, that his thoughts uncontrol'd 
 As the future, the present, the past they explore. 
 
 Might dwell with delight on the transports of old, 
 And enjoy its sweet scent when the rose is no more. 
 
 But he, when the trifles no longer engage. 
 
 And the scanty remains of his hairs are grown grayi' 
 
 Looks back on his youth, in the winter of age. 
 
 And complains that the spring fled too rapid away. 
 
 Ola ! ne'er can I think on my infantine joys. 
 
 Ere the slights of the world had allied me to pain,- 
 
 But the tears of regret stream fast from ray eyes, . , 
 And my heart heaves a sigh to enjoy them again.
 
 THE DAYS THAT ARE PAST. 129 
 
 8. 
 
 When Phoebus retires from the mists of the nicht. 
 And the cares of the world are dismiss'd till tlie 
 morrow, 
 
 My soul fondly turns to those scenes of delight. 
 
 And still dwells on the dear recollection with sorrow: 
 
 9. 
 Recurs to the moments so peaceful, so blest. 
 
 When beguil'd of my tears in a motiier's caresses, 
 Embracing we sunk on one pallet <o rest, 
 
 Or inspir'd but one life as we mingled our kisses. 
 
 10. 
 
 Oh can I forget how she watch'd o'er my bed, 
 
 As the turtle keeps watch o'er the nest of her 
 young; 
 The blessings she piously pour'd on my head. 
 
 Or the sweet-soothing accents which <lied on her 
 tongue. 
 
 11. 
 
 (Oh tell me ye slaves to the raptures of sense. 
 So familiar to all that the world may call bliss. 
 
 Can pleasure so perfect a blessing dispense 
 As a mother befjtows on her child in a kiss?) 
 
 K
 
 130 THE DAYS THAT ARE PAST. 
 
 Dear Source of my life, tho' thy babe then so young 
 Could not bless thee in words, nor a murmur 
 express'd 
 
 To thank thy affection, he needed no tongue, 
 
 For a mother is thank'd when her children are 
 
 bless'd ! 
 
 13. 
 
 Ye friends of my youth ; of my happiest years, 
 
 Tho' the niyst'ries of fate have constrain'd us to 
 part 
 
 Ne'er again to embrace, bear witness my tears 
 
 That no absence your forms can erase from 
 
 my heart ! 
 
 14. 
 
 'Till the storms of the world are hush'd in my breast. 
 And my spirit approaches its haven at last, 
 
 JSo joy can I know, so serene and so blest. 
 As I tasted with you in the days th^t are past ! 
 
 15. 
 
 Yet grieve not my bosom, repine not my soul ! 
 
 (For the joys of the earth are but empty and vain) 
 J5iit press to the skies, like the steed to the goal. 
 
 And the mansions of rest shall receive thee again!
 
 MY OLD YARN STOCKING. 151 
 
 16. 
 
 Lean thy hopes on thy God, and thence draw a 
 blessing. 
 
 Far beyond all reward which the world can bestow : 
 Oh trust in his love, and thou'rt sure of possessing 
 
 All the joys thou canst ask in this chaos of woe ! ! 
 
 MY OLD 
 
 YARN STOCKING. 
 
 1. 
 
 THO* nuni'rous holes my ruthless feet have worn. 
 
 And many a darn bespeaks thy age ; 
 And tho' thy services I oft forget 
 
 When weightier things my mind engage, 
 
 My Old Yarn Stocking ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Tho' fifty washings have thy slender form 
 
 Contracted to a size so small. 
 That scarce my grumbling toes can storm thy foot, 
 
 I will not cast Ihee off for all. 
 
 My Old Vani Slocl.in::!
 
 132 MY OLD YARN STOCKING. 
 
 3. 
 
 For thou liast toil'd with me o'er many a mile. 
 
 In summer heat, and winter's snow. 
 And hadst thou thouG;ht, I know thou'dst think it hard 
 
 Thy master should discard thee now. 
 
 My Old Yarn Stocking ! 
 
 4. 
 
 And tho' thou art so rent, so patched, so worn. 
 And tho' thy darns long service prove. 
 
 Yet still those very darns, so neat, remind 
 Me of an absent mother's love. 
 
 My Old Yarn Stocking ! 
 
 5. 
 
 For once I recollect when ev'ning came. 
 
 And ihou hadst holes both wide and long, 
 
 Sly mother said, " To-morrow's Sunday, love. 
 So bring it hither, and I'll spong* 
 
 Thy Old Yarn Stocking." 
 
 * A peculiar expression of my motlier's, meaning to mend.
 
 MY OLD YARN STOCKING. 133 
 
 6. 
 And then she clasp'd me in her arms and wept, 
 
 And pray'd, " Kind heav'n, iny child befriend. 
 For when thy anxious mother's dead and gone 
 I know not who, my boy, will mend 
 
 Thy Old Yarn Stocking. 
 
 7. 
 Alas! I feel my strength is wasting fast. 
 
 And should 1 soon be torn from thee, 
 'Twill be my last, my dying pray'r to heav'n. 
 That thou may'st live from sorrow free 
 
 As thy Old Yarn Stocking." 
 
 8. 
 Then round her neck my arms I threw and cried, 
 
 " Alas ! you will not leave me yet. 
 
 Oh do not die, dear mother." Tears supply'd 
 
 In ample streams the rest, and wet 
 
 My Old Yarn Stocking ! 
 
 9. 
 This fond remembrance of maternal love 
 
 Endears ?ind binds thee to my heart ; 
 And tho' Dame Fortune thro' my life attends 
 Not me, 'tis chance if e'er I part 
 
 With my Old Yarn Stocking.
 
 134 MY OLD YARN STOCKITfG. 
 
 10. 
 
 Then still my clearest fav'rite thou shalt be. 
 And still my wardrobe thou shalt share; 
 
 And when thy failings are so obvious grown. 
 Thy master it would shame to wear 
 
 His Old Yarn Stocking; 
 
 • 11. 
 
 Then will I neatly fold and lay thee by. 
 
 And scent thee with some sweet perfume ; 
 
 And now and the?i I'll steal a look to see 
 No moth's unhallow'd fangs consume 
 
 My Old Yarn Stocking.
 
 SONNET. 135 
 
 JS O N N E T. 
 
 DEAR Eliza, cease thy chiding. 
 
 Check, oh check that falling tear; 
 
 In my faithful bosom hiding. 
 
 Come and lose thv sorrows here; 
 
 2. 
 
 Let me wipe that dewy treasure. 
 Sparkling in thy humid eye; 
 
 Let the rosy smile of pleasure 
 
 Drain the crystal fountain dry, 
 
 Never can I cease to love thee. 
 
 Never can I thee resign. 
 Crowns and sceptres could not move me 
 
 E'er to call another mine.
 
 136 SONNET. 
 
 4. 
 
 More than misers love their treasure, 
 More than captives liberty, 
 
 More than folly doats on pleasure. 
 Dear Eliza love I thee. 
 
 5-: 
 
 Sooner shall the partial mother 
 
 Hate the smiling babe she bore, 
 
 Than thy William love another. 
 Or Eliza love no more.
 
 A poet's lamentation. T57 
 
 A POETS LAMENTATION 
 
 OVER HIS 
 
 DEPARTE D MISTRESS. 
 
 1. 
 
 RH'ERS of grief in countless tears I shed. 
 And falt'ring accents on iny lips expire ; 
 
 Despair and horror hover round my head, 
 
 And mournful numbers tremble on my lyre. 
 
 Slow winds the current of my languid heart. 
 An icy cold arrests the crimson tide; 
 
 Death's fast approaches bid e'en hope depart, 
 And horrid spectres o'er my dreams preside. 
 
 3. 
 
 Alas! my love, my beauteous, sainted maid. 
 My lips incessant on thy virtues dwell! 
 
 Low in the grave thy cold remains are laid, 
 
 And these torn ears have heard thy ([X'.\'r*\ hncll.
 
 138 LINES TO A FRIEND. 
 
 4. 
 
 Soon shall my longing soul direct its flight 
 To meet thy spirit on that blissful shore. 
 
 Where placid peace and heav'nly joys deliglit, 
 
 And hopeless sorrow stings the heart no more. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 A MUSICAL FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR S. 
 
 YE friendly sprites, who oft, (by fairy spells) 
 Allured th' enchanted swain at close of night 
 With still astonishment beholds. And who. 
 As o'er the flow'ry mead ye lightly trip. 
 Dance giddy circles to the zephyr's pipe. 
 Melodiously sweet, 'till rosy morn 
 Bedecks in golden robes the smiling east! 
 O tell, (if o'er your path an earthly muse 
 Should stray) Oh! tell her that not more in vain
 
 ELEGY ON A PRIEND. 139^ 
 
 Against Apollo poor Marsyras strove 
 
 For music's meed, than rival Syrens strive 
 
 To equal her. Oh ! say beyond all others her 
 
 I dare proclaim the lirst, and from her lips 
 
 A melody proceeds, e'en angels need 
 
 Not blush to own. Ye fairies tell her this 
 
 And crown the matchless nymph the queen of song I 
 
 AN ELEGY 
 
 ON A FRIEND. 
 
 BENEATH yon marble urn with cypress crown'd. 
 
 The mournful record of mortality. 
 Diffusing sober melancholy round, 
 
 A lovely maiden's mould'ring relics lie. 
 
 2. 
 
 Short was the period of her sojourn here. 
 And quick the blest transition to the skies; 
 
 Rut long shall faithful memory the tear 
 Bestow, and mourn her fun'ral obsequies.
 
 140 ELEGY ON A FRIEND. 
 
 Alas, the boasted virtues of mankind 
 
 But little merit, little worth possess; 
 Perfection never was for man design'd. 
 
 And poor at best his fancied righteousness I 
 
 4. 
 
 Yet when the spirit shall to heav'n ascend. 
 Which hath like her's the race of glory run. 
 
 Applauding shouts heav'ns spangled roof shall rend 
 And angels cry, "Thou good and faithful soul, 
 well done. 
 
 5. 
 
 DoomVl from her cradle to a life of woe, 
 
 A life of sorrow, mis'ry, and distress ; 
 She hop'd small consolation here below. 
 
 And daily found, alas ! that little less. 
 
 In life's sweet spring, one solitary beam 
 Around her infant hopes its radiance shed; 
 
 But soon, too soon, the false, delusive dream 
 Expir'd, was lost, and number d with the dead.
 
 ELEGY ON A FRIEND. 141 
 
 7. 
 
 (So oft when mists obscure the solar ray. 
 
 One transient gleam illumes and cheers the vale;* 
 
 Soon blacker clouds forbid the bright display, 
 And gloomy darkness wears a sabler veil.) 
 
 As the sweet bud that scents the smiling morn. 
 With blushing beauties to the fav'ring skies 
 
 Reveal'd, by ruthless hands despoil'd and torn,l ' 
 Contracts its wither'd leaves and droops and dies. 
 
 9. 
 
 E'er yet her gentle mind was fully blown. 
 Or time had bade the fragrant rose expand, 
 *' Remorseless death," to whom no pity's known, 
 Remov'd the blossom to a happier land. 
 
 10. 
 
 (When heav'nly dews have nursed the tender shoot. 
 Till rip'ning tints proclaim the harvest near. 
 
 One loathsome worm oft lingers at the root. 
 Unseen destroys, and blasts it in the ear.) 
 
 * " Adorns and cheers the way" Golilsmith.
 
 142- ADDRESS TO A YOUTH. 
 
 11. 
 
 Weep not, kind reader, nor lament the dead, 
 Man lives to die, and only dies to live ; 
 
 When souls like her's to endless bliss are fled 
 'Tis triumph all, and vict'ry o'er the grave ! ! 
 
 ADDRESS TO A YOUTH 
 
 LABOURING UNDER A 
 
 HYPOCHONDRIAC AFFECTION. 
 
 1. 
 
 WHY that look of silent sorrow. 
 Why that look of deep depair ? 
 
 Quite sulficient for to-morrow 
 Is to-morrow's anxious care ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Why that look of mental anguish. 
 
 Why that look of speechless woe ? 
 
 Dost thou for a mistress languish. 
 Or life's fancy'd sweets forego ?
 
 ADDRESS TO A YOUTH. 143 
 
 3. 
 
 Short is life, our pleasures fleeting. 
 Soon our mortal race is run ; 
 
 Disappointments hourly meeting. 
 Pleasures ending ere begun. 
 
 Riches are but golden bubbles. 
 Soon they vanish into air ; 
 
 Poor enjoyments, constant troubles. 
 Source of sorrow — blessings rare. 
 
 Love is but a sweet delusion, 
 
 Paiuful pleasure, pleasing pain; 
 
 Bliss unreal, and mad confusion, 
 Mark tlie artful tyrant's reign, 
 
 6. 
 
 Yet the mind content possessing. 
 Or from mis'ry, or from woe. 
 
 Can from each extract a blessing. 
 Find a brother in the foe.
 
 144 ADDRESS TO A YOUTH. 
 
 7. 
 
 Then no more thy sorrows nourish, 
 Prythee wipe thy tearful eye ; 
 
 Let Ihy throbbing bosom cherish 
 Harmless mirth aud gaiety! 
 
 Bid that look of brooding sadness. 
 
 Bid each painful thought farewell. 
 
 Soon, I ween, shall joy and gladness 
 Ev'ry murky cloud dispel. 
 
 Now I see a beam of pleasure 
 
 Wander o'er thy pallid cheek ; 
 
 Soon shall blessing in full measure. 
 
 O'er thy gloomy prospects break ! !
 
 ADDRESS TO MY MOTHER. 145 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 TO 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 PALE, alas ! my dear Mother's, the hue of thy cheek, 
 And Nature exhausted sinks fast to decay; 
 
 And in vain for the flush of enjoyment I seek. 
 For pain aud disease are familiar to thee. 
 
 2. 
 
 Thine eyes were as windows, where thy sold sat retir'd. 
 And gaz'd from behind with expression serene 
 
 As the smiles of the East. But their lustre's expir'd. 
 And sad is tiiy soul for the darkness within. 
 
 3. 
 
 Thy limbs are grown feeble, and tlie life that remains 
 
 Still nnrs'd in thy bosom, reluctantly glows, 
 And the bi«: d slowly creeps thro' thy languishing 
 veins, 
 And 111 g-> to congeal to eternal repose. 
 I.
 
 146 ADDEESS TO MY MOTHER, 
 
 4. 
 
 Vain, alas ? is the wish to obtain from the Nile, 
 
 Or steal from the thundering waves of the tide, 
 Th' excess of their waters a riv'let to swell. 
 
 And springs cease to flow when their sources are 
 dry'd; 
 
 5. 
 
 Yet, would heav'u grant my pray'r, I would gladly 
 
 resign 
 The tide of existence thy veins to supply ; 
 Gently pour'd from my heart it should wanton in 
 
 thine. 
 And snatch thee awhile from the realms of the sky ! 
 
 6. 
 
 Oh say not, dear Mother, when thy spirit is fled 
 
 To regions of bliss, where no cares shall consume. 
 When, (the cold baud of Death long repos'd on thy 
 
 head) 
 Thy breathless remains are consign'd to the tomb, 
 
 7. 
 
 That the Son who inspir'd from the fount of thy 
 breast 
 The copious streams that breathe life on his 
 frame.
 
 ADDRESS TO MY MOTHER. 147 
 
 And who slept on thy bosom, so fondly care*s'd. 
 
 Shall cease to lament thee, nor weep at thy 
 
 name. 
 
 8. 
 
 Tho' the sea rolls between its impassable waves. 
 The land of his birth can the Exile forget ? 
 
 Do the forms of thv children ne'er steal from their 
 graves 
 To plant in thy breast the sad sigh of regret? 
 
 If the heart of the Exile, with filial love. 
 
 Incessantly sighs for his dear native shore. 
 
 When thy spirit is call'd to the mansions above. 
 Oh shall not thy Son his lost Mother deplore? 
 
 10. 
 
 As the Linnet depriv'd of the nest of her young. 
 In requiem notes tells her story of woe, 
 
 So thy name shall ne'er linger nnblest on my tongue. 
 Or tears to thy mem'ry but languidly flow. 
 
 11. 
 
 Could I drink of oblivion from the Lethean wave. 
 And lose ev'ry trace of the scenes that arc past, 
 L 2
 
 148 ADDRESS TO MY MOTHER. 
 
 I should wander by instinct to weep o'er thy grave. 
 And murmur a sigh o'er thy tomb till the last. 
 
 12. 
 
 How reviving the slumbers of wretches who weep. 
 Expiring in dungeons by Av'rice oppress'd, 
 
 And the death of the righteous but lulls them to sleep. 
 And rocks the tir'd soul in its cradle to rest. * 
 
 13. 
 
 Then dost thou, even thou, oh my Mother, despair. 
 Thy land of sweet promise, thy Canaan so nigh : 
 
 Dost thou shudder when God waits to welcome thee 
 there. 
 And tho' longing for death yet tremble to die 1 
 
 14. 
 
 When a poor, shatter'd ship, by tempestuous gales 
 Vehemently urg'd o'er the billowy niain. 
 
 Feels the wind gently rush to impregnate her sails. 
 And waft the strain'd bark to her harbour again; 
 
 * " When wearied wn trhes sink to sleep, 
 
 How heav'nly soft their slumbers lie; 
 How sweet is death to those who weep, — 
 To those who wer p and wish to die " 
 
 GOI KS.^TITH
 
 ADDRESS TO MY MOTHER. T4^ 
 
 15. 
 
 Should tlie mariners loose the vast sheet from its hold. 
 To wanton and sport unrestrain'd in the breeze. 
 
 And, despairing to ride in the port they behold, 
 The vessel commit to the merciless seas ; 
 
 16. 
 
 Oh would'st thou not pity th' infatuate crew. 
 
 Thus mournfully meas'ring the bulk of each 
 wave, 
 And canst thou, dear Mother, when thy port is in 
 view 
 With terror behold — shrink appall'd from the 
 grave ? 
 
 17. 
 Tho' thy faith in thy God may have fainted awhile. 
 
 And doubts, and mistrust held a transient sway, 
 Yet Hope was thy comfort, and dispers'd with her 
 smile 
 The misls that eavelop'd his mercy away. 
 
 IS. 
 
 Were thy crimes so immense, and the page of thy 
 life 
 So frightfully black with continuous stain.
 
 150 ADDllESS TO MY MOTHER. 
 
 That the Angel of Truth, as he wept o'er the leaf, 
 Explor'd the vile blot for thy virtues in vain ; 
 
 19. 
 
 Had the anguish of vice, in mute accents of woe. 
 And clamorous silence e'er tortur'd thy brain ; 
 
 Or the cold sweat of guilt on thy feverish brow 
 
 Spoke murderous tales of the wretch thou hadst 
 
 slain. 
 
 20. 
 
 Had the cries of the orphan e'er assail'd thy torn ears 
 With loud execrations, impassioned, and deep. 
 
 Or the poor friendless widow, dissolv'd in her tears. 
 
 Fled far from thy presence to curse thee and 
 
 weep ; 
 
 21. 
 
 Then, ah well might the rapid approaches of Death, 
 (For Vice starts aghast, when the tyrant is near,) 
 
 Sap thy pillars of hope, and destroy with a breath. 
 And bid thy lost Spirit look back and despair. 
 
 22. 
 
 But the still admonition of conscience within 
 
 Ne'er yet hath proclaim'd thee familiar to crime. 
 
 Nor thy Saviour reproach'd with th' excess of his sin 
 The wretch who apply'd for atonement to him.
 
 ADDRESS TO MY MOTHER. 15I 
 
 23. 
 
 E'er the baubles of youth had forgot to delight. 
 
 And Reason, inatur'd, grew asham'd of the toys; 
 
 E'er mysterious nothings stood unveil'd to thy sight. 
 And musing Reflection had sober'd thy joys, 
 
 24. 
 
 As the nightingale's young, scarce releas'd from the 
 nest. 
 Triumphantly pours its harmonious lays. 
 So thy pray'rs rose to heav'n, like the sighs of the 
 blest, 
 To pray was thy heav'n, and thy transport to 
 praise. 
 
 25. 
 
 Then list not, I pray thee, to these coward alarms. 
 Nor shrink from the foe when the victory's won ; 
 
 When Jesus invites thee to partake in his arms 
 
 Of raptures eternal, the bliss wilt thou shun ? 
 
 26. 
 
 Tho' a son from the arras of his father may stray, 
 His duteous steps should the wand'rer retrace, 
 
 And return to his sire, he receives him with Joy, 
 And straiiieth his child in a fonder embrace :
 
 152 ADDRESS TO MY MOTHEK. 
 
 27. 
 
 And shall not Jehovah, whose compassion so great 
 No tongue can declare ; who delights to forgive, 
 
 Tho' thy feet may have err'd in this finite estate. 
 When returned to his arms, in mercy receive ? 
 
 28. 
 
 Has thy star of sweet Hope over Bethlehem shone 
 So long to enliven the road that is past. 
 
 That it's light thus grows weak ; and thy God should 
 disown. 
 And leave thee in darkness to mourn at the last 1 
 
 29. 
 
 Oh no, my lov'd Mother; soon his glorious light 
 Shall beam on thy heart with its soul-cheering^ 
 ray. 
 
 As the taper illumines the darkness of night. 
 
 And mercy, and goodness unbounded display. 
 
 30. 
 
 When the Angel of Mercy the volume of life, 
 
 With eyes beaming seraphic smiles shall explore. 
 
 He shall pause at thy name, and inscribe on the leaf, 
 " Come, hasten blest spirit, to joys evermore !!"
 
 THE OUARTlEt.. 1513 
 
 THE 
 
 QUARREL. 
 
 " INDEED I'm sorry from my heart 
 
 I should have hurt you so. 
 But still, oh still we need not part ; . 
 
 You will not leave us so, 
 
 I'm sure vou won't. 
 
 2. 
 
 " Corae, come, dismiss I pray, that frown. 
 
 Your hat upon the nail 
 Replace. 1 was a little harsh I own. 
 But then I meant it well, 
 
 Indeed 1 did." 
 3. 
 
 'Twas thus my Brother sooth'd, for he 
 
 And I had fallen out. 
 As Brothers sometimes disagree. 
 
 And angry grow about 
 
 They scarce know what.
 
 154 THE QUARREL. 
 
 4. 
 
 I'd acted wrong, and he had spoke 
 
 Perhaps a little loud, 
 (A little will at times provoke,) 
 And I, alas ! was proud. 
 
 And cou'dn't brook it ! 
 5. 
 
 " You've stretclied the cord too far," I cried ; 
 
 " Thank God your reign is o'er ; 
 Now seek some other wretch to chide. 
 
 For I'm your slave no more. 
 
 And so farewell :" 
 6. 
 
 But when I rose to go, so pale 
 
 I seem'd but half to live, 
 lie grasp'd my arm, (while something fell 
 
 Like rain upon my sleeve) 
 
 And cried " My BROTHER !" 
 
 7. 
 
 Oh heart! this was too much to bear; 
 
 I thought thou sure must break; 
 I clasp'd his hand ; I felt a tear 
 
 Descend— I could not speak — 
 
 But wept aloud.
 
 THE gUARREL. 155 
 
 8. 
 
 He saw the melting tide, so blest. 
 
 The gushing torrent flow. 
 Convulsive straiu'd me to his breast. 
 
 And said, " You will not now 
 
 Desert us, BROTHER V 
 
 9. 
 I felt his heart so fondly beat, 
 
 And found my transport such. 
 And this embrace so wond'rous sweet 
 1 did not struggle much — 
 
 I know not how, 
 
 10. 
 
 My welcome promise giv 'n to slay, 
 
 And from his arras at last 
 Releas'd ; I brush'd ray tears away. 
 
 And on the nail I plac'd 
 
 My hat again.
 
 156 THE FOLLY OF PRIDE. 
 
 THE FOLLY 
 
 OF 
 
 PRIDE. 
 
 " Blessed are the poor in spirit, for their's is the kingdom 
 of heaveu." 
 
 St. Matthew, Chap. 5. v. 6 
 
 OH why should man with lordly pride 
 Erect his tovv'ring crest so high ; 
 
 Can he restrain the ocean's tide, 
 
 Or hold dominion o'er the sky? 
 
 Can all his greatness, all his pow'r, 
 
 (Tho' match'd with Hercules in might) 
 
 Protract existence for an hour. 
 
 Or " add one cubit to his " height ?
 
 THE FOLLY OF PRIDE. i 57 
 
 3. 
 
 Tho' royal robe its folds intwines 
 
 Around the breathing mass of clay, 
 
 Tis earth at best, and only shines 
 The splendid rival of a fly ! 
 
 4. 
 
 The worm that crawls beneath his feet. 
 
 In insignificance secure. 
 Enjoys its insect life as sweet, 
 
 And draws the breath of heav'u as pure. 
 
 5. 
 
 Reflect, oh man ! tho' here on earth 
 Above thy fellow-worms thy Ood 
 
 Exalts thy head: Tho' great thy birth. 
 And uncontaminate thy blood ; 
 
 Tho' the swift eagle from on high, 
 
 With sight extended o'er the plain. 
 
 Cannot at utmost stretch, survey 
 
 The bjund'ries ot thy vast domafti
 
 158 THE FOLLY OF PRIDE. 
 
 7. 
 
 Reflect ! the God who kindly pours 
 
 These dang'rous blessings on thy head, 
 
 ■Can with a word disperse thy stores. 
 
 Or in an instant strike thee dead ! ! 
 
 That Pow'r, from whom all blessings spring. 
 Who turns each glorious planet round. 
 
 Can raise a peasant to a king, 
 
 Or sink a monarch to the ground ! 
 
 9^ 
 
 The glories which surround a throne, 
 Tho' purchas'd with a hero's blood. 
 
 Derive their brightest beams alone. 
 
 And niost resplendent rays from God ! 
 
 10. 
 
 Could man a thousand sceptres sway. 
 And all the world his sov'reign will; 
 
 And all-commanding voice obey. 
 He'd rank a finite mortal still.
 
 THE FOLLY OF PRIDE. 159 
 
 II. 
 
 All pride is wrong when pride exceeds 
 
 The limits of its narrow span; 
 Yet when to virtuous acts it leads — 
 
 It raises and becomes the man. 
 
 But they of wealth, or person vain. 
 
 Or whom capricious Chance prefer'd 
 
 Hereditary greatness to sustain. 
 Become contemptible, absurd. 
 
 13. 
 
 The peacock's but the type of such ; 
 
 Is just as eager to reveal 
 Its vast accomplishments, and much 
 
 Admires the beauty of its tail ! 
 
 14. 
 
 But will the strutting coxcomb's pride, 
 Tho' fairest of its beauteous race. 
 
 Produce the claim'd respect, or hide 
 
 The harsh, discordant tongue's disgrace?
 
 l60: THE FOLLY OF PRIDE. 
 
 15. 
 
 The same mishapen lump of earth 
 
 Beneath the potter's skilful hand. 
 
 May give the meaner vessel birth. 
 Or to the splendid vase expand. 
 
 1(3. 
 
 Tho' equal form'd, by Nature so. 
 
 Yet some there are proclaim, '• give way 
 Ye humble slaves to us, for know 
 
 We're made of much superior clay !! !" 
 
 17. 
 
 Absurd conceit! the blood that flows 
 Impetuous in an emp'ror's veins, 
 
 No finer particles compose 
 
 Than their's, o'er whom the monarch reigns. 
 
 U. 
 
 Mankind can ne'er be truly great. 
 Except they're also truly good, 
 
 Superior wealth's the gift of Fate, 
 Superior virtue is from God.
 
 NOTES, &c. 
 
 NOTE 1. 
 
 WHEN poor unliappy youth, whose silent ears, 
 No sense of sweet harmonious sound retain, 
 
 Now first arous'd to joy astonish'd hears 
 
 The " full toned organ's" bold, majestic strain. 
 
 Pale with delight, in mute, expressive signs,' 
 He motions rapture to its wild excess; 
 
 Each quiv'ring limb, and ev'ry sense resigns. 
 To all the breathless extacy of bliss. 
 
 Page 17 & 18. 
 
 Since the sheet, containing the " Prefatory Address to my 
 Muse" was put to press, it has been suggested by an intel- 
 ligent friend, that the sense of the above quotation is in some 
 measure obscure; or, at least, that the idea is not so palpably 
 striking as with greater attention, and by a clearer mode of 
 expression, it might have been. In deference to my friends' 
 opinion, and from a wish to avoid as much as possible the 
 charge of obscurity, it may not be impertinent here to observe 
 that the idea is simply thus. A person has been deaf, and 
 conscfjuently dumb from his infancy. He, notwithstandini.', 
 
 M
 
 l62 NOTES. 
 
 attends divine service, or we will barely sti-ppose accident may 
 have led him to attend the representation of an oratorio. His 
 ears are now first accessible to sound, and he suddenly acquires 
 the full possession of his hearing ; of a sense of which, 'till this 
 instant, he could not have had the most distant idea. I behold 
 him in my mind's eye with his convulsed arms eagerly stretched 
 forth as if to grasp the sounds, and listening to the music with 
 an extacy little inferior (pardon the comparison) to that of 
 the spirit, when saluted by the angelic choir, bidding it wel- 
 come to heaven; he cannot express his delight in words, for 
 he has them not. But the universal tremor that agitates his 
 whole frame, his expressive and various attitudes, sufficiently 
 declare his astonishment, wonder and satisfaction. His joy, 
 his transport, is too great for utterance, even were he acquaint- 
 ed with speech ; but the want of language is abundantly sup- 
 plied by expressive motion, and thus " he motions rapture" &c. 
 at Ifast that is my idea; whether it is clearly expressed is for 
 w iser heads than mine to determine. I am afraid it is not. 
 However, the fact itself is by no meaus unlikely, as history 
 presents us with many instances of persons, who, being both 
 deaf .and dumb, by the force of fear, astonishment, or some 
 other equally strong emotion, have suddenly acquired the use 
 of hearing and of speech. As a remarkable instance of the 
 latter, a youth born dumb, upon seeing a man about to strike 
 his father, instantly exclaimed, " Soldier, do not kill thy king;" 
 and, if my memory is coiTCct, the assassin, struck wiih sur- 
 prise, and looking upon this as a miraculous interposition of 
 providence to preserve the life of his intended victim, dropt 
 his wtapoi) and fled.
 
 NOTES. iC)i 
 
 NOTE 2. 
 
 r was much surprised upon nieiting in a small publication, 
 intifled the "Bee," (a jiulicious selection of poems for chil- 
 dren,) with a copy of Pope's Universal Prayer, to find that 
 my poem, entitled " Prayer and Praise inseparable," in two 
 or three instances bears a resemblance to it, which might sub- 
 ject me to the charge of plagiarism. As the whole impression 
 of my second sheet was then struck off, it was too late to 
 revise it ; bnt I can assure my readers that fifteen or sixteen 
 years had elapsed from the period when I first perused that 
 incomparable Prayer; and, as my age did not then exceed 
 five or six years, it cannot be supposed the substance, or tlie 
 form of expression, after the lapse of so long a time, were very 
 fresh in my memory. This declaration, I iiope, will be suffi- 
 cient to convince the world, that although a slight degree of 
 resemblance may be perceivable, the charge of wilful plagia- 
 rism is not deserved. Such of my readers, who iiave a cepy 
 of tlie "Universal Prayer" in their possession, may read both; 
 not further to disgrace mine by the comparisov, but to judge 
 for themselves. 
 
 NOTE 3. 
 
 Nor dread Icarus' fate, for here 
 
 'Tis glorious to fall. 
 
 Page C.'J. 
 
 Da>daliis had incurred the resentment of Minos, King of 
 
 Cii te, by the ^si>^tanre afTordeil to his queen, Pasiphtr, in tlip
 
 l64 NOTES. 
 
 prosecution of her infamous amours ; and to avoid the effects 
 of his anger, he constructed wings wherewith he hoped, with 
 his son Icarus, to escape. He instructed the latter not to soar 
 too high ; but he disregarding this caution, the sun melted the 
 wax that confined the feathers of his wings, and he was pre- 
 cipitated into the sea, and drowned. His fatlier, less ambi- 
 tious in his flight, and occasionly dipping his wings in the sea 
 to cool them, arrivedsafe at the place of his destination. Such 
 is the fable; but the probable truth is, that Daedalus upon 
 this occasion first invented sails, and his son being unskilful in 
 the management of them, fell overboard and perished. 
 
 NOTE 4. 
 "■ The dark-hued native of a western clime, 
 
 With humbled fierceness, and with heart elate 
 In gloomy wilds first learns to breathe the pray'r j 
 
 Erects an altar to the Spirit great, 
 And trusts that fav'ring Spirit hovers near." 
 
 Page 37. 
 
 The native Americans *' believe in the superintending pro- 
 vidence of a Supreme Being, whom they adore under the title 
 of the Great Spirit," or Lord of the Universe. Him tliey in- 
 voke for protection at home, and assistance in war; and honor 
 him by feasts, in order to procure favorable seasons for \\imt- 
 ing. Their feasts are annually held in winter, on returniag
 
 NOTES. I65 
 
 from the chace; when choice carcases are presented, and 
 sometimes a white dog is sacrificed. They repeat these cere- 
 monies in spring, before the seed is put into the ground; and 
 after harvest, when they have gathered in the produce. They 
 believe also in tlie existence of inferior deities; especially two, 
 of whom they relate a strange allegory, representing the good 
 and evil principles. According to their tradition, the good 
 being, Tcharonghyawagon had a twin brotlier, Tawiskarou, 
 of an opposite disposition, under which they represent evil. 
 Their grandmother, say they, was cast down from heaven 
 when she was big with child of their mother, and falling upon 
 the back of a great turtle began to form tlie earth. When tlie 
 two brothers grew up, the evil one ever endeavoured to frus- 
 trate the good intentions of his beneficent brotlier. At length 
 they fought and the earth shook at the combat. They passed 
 over the continent of America; and according to their differ- 
 ent agitations and tones of voice, the nations who were after- 
 wards produced spoke diSercnt languages. Such is their his- 
 tory of the creation. When compared with other systems 
 iiow does tlie Mosaic account of tlie same great event lisc in 
 sublimity !" Excursions in North America, 
 
 NOTE 5. 
 
 Where Indian seas, in populous display. 
 The winding shores of rich Hindoostan lave, 
 
 The dark Hindoos to mighty Brahma pray. 
 And leave their sins beneath the sacred wave. 
 
 Page 37
 
 l66 NOTES. 
 
 Tlie following brief acronnt of the religion of the Brahmins 
 is extracted from Sir Wm. Jones's works, and by him from 
 the writings of Menu, an Indian Philosopher. " This world " 
 says the latter, " was all darkness, undiscernable, nndistin- 
 guishable, altogether as in a profound sleep, 'till the self- 
 existent, invisible God, making it manifest with five elements, 
 and other glorious forms, perfectly dispelled the gloom. He 
 desiring to raise up various creatures, by an emanation from his 
 own glory, first created the waters, and impressed them with 
 a power of motion ; by that power was produced a golden egg, 
 blazing like a thousand suns, in which was born Brahma self- 
 existing,* the great parent of all rational beings. The waters 
 are called nara, since tlioy are the offspring of Nera, or 
 Iswara, and thence was Naragana named, because his first 
 AYUNA, or moving was in him. That which is, the invisible 
 cause, eternal, self-existing, but unperceived, becoming mas- 
 culine from neuter, is celebrated among all creatures by the 
 name of Brahma." 
 
 " That God having dwelled in the egg through revolving 
 years, himself meditating on himself, divided it into two equal 
 parts, and from those halves formed the heavens and the 
 earth, placing in the middle the subtle ether, tlie eight point 
 of the world, and the permanent reccptable of the waters. 
 From this eternally-existing, Great First Cause, sprang the 
 two essences, Vishnu and Siva, and thus the Hindoo Triad 
 or triple godhead was formed." 
 
 * Quere. How ran 'Hrahma bp callpil " self-pxisttnt'' when born in a gol- 
 flen egg, CTf attd tv a superior sind " invisible God."
 
 NOTES. 167 
 
 " Very respectable natives have assured me, " (continues 
 Sir Wm.) " tliat one or two missionaries have been absurd 
 enough, in their zeal for tlie conversion of the gentiles, to 
 urge " tiiat tlie Hindoos were even now ahnost christians, 
 because their Brahma, Vishnu and Siva, were no other 
 than a christian trinity; a sentence in which we can only 
 doubt whether folly, ignorance or impiety predominate. The 
 three powers, creative, preservative, and destructive, which 
 the Hindoos express by tlie triliteral word O'm, were grossly 
 ascribed by the first idolaters to the heat, light and flame 
 of their mistaken divinity, the sun; and their wiser successors 
 in the east, who perceived that the sun was only a created 
 thing, applied tliese powers to its creator; but the Indian 
 Triad, and that of Plato, which he calls the supreme good, the 
 rca-on and the soul, are infinitely removed from the sublimity 
 and holiness which pious christians have deduced from tenets 
 in the gospel. This tenet of church cannot, without pro- 
 faneness, be compared with that of the Hindoos, which has 
 only an apparent resemblance to it, but a very different mean- 
 ing." 
 
 " Brahma is said to mean literally in Sancrit " Wisdom of 
 God." He is represented with a crown upon his head, and 
 four hands. In one he holds a sceptre, in another the Vedas, 
 or Indian scriptures, in a third a ring or circle, as an emblem 
 of eternity, and the fourth is empty, being ready to assist and 
 jirotect his creatures." - .
 
 iGs Notes. 
 
 NOTE 6. 
 
 * * * * The rude Barbarians raise 
 
 The pond'rous stones to form an idol vast, 
 And teach their wond'ring babes to lisp its praise. 
 
 Page 38. 
 
 ■*£,'■ 
 
 Captain Cook, in his voyages, found this species of idolatry 
 (so prevalent in all uncivilized nations from the earliest ages 
 of antiquity) very popular in the islands of the South Seas. 
 
 In one he observed three immense masses of stone, piled to 
 the height of at least twenty feet, and bearing a rude resem- 
 blance to the human form. These were no doubt, formerly 
 (perhaps even now) the objects of adoration to the unenlightened 
 natives; and is it not wonderful, ignorant as they are of the sim- 
 plest principle of mechanics, that they should notwithstanding 
 contrive, by the mere force of muscular exertion, to raise a 
 block of stone, of perhaps a ton weight, to tliis elevation. And 
 must it not be a work of prodigious labour, with such imper- 
 fect tools, to carve them into the appearance of any thing 
 human! Thou most mysterious, all wonderful God; thou 
 great Intelligence who art, according to their several con- 
 ceptions of tliy glorious and incomprehensible nature, alike the 
 object of adoration to the refined European and the poor 
 untutored native of the South Seas, what cannot a love of 
 -theeetfect!!
 
 169 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE r. 
 
 " In desart isles the pious savage rears," &c. 
 
 Page 33. 
 
 This species of idol worship is now so generally understood 
 to prevail in almost ail savage nations, and so much has been 
 written on the subject by different circumnavigators, that a 
 long dissertation upon it would be superfluous. 
 
 NOTE 8. 
 
 " The sooty negro on his sim-burnt plains 
 
 With zeal officious builds the twig-wrought cell, 
 
 In tliis a snake with gentle force detains, 
 
 And calls it God! his hope, and little all." 
 
 Page 38. 
 
 The worship of snakes is not peculiar to one quarter of the 
 world. The natives of Africa are much addicted to it; and in 
 an old book of travels, which I lately read, tlie autlior informs 
 us, that the soldiers of Cortez, upon storming an Indian town, 
 found a serpent of 25 feet in length, which had loug bi en 
 considered by the mistaken victims of tUtir cruelty as a god. 
 
 NOTE 9. '* 
 
 *' Where Persia's king its glittering sceptre wields, 
 And countless nations hear but to obey, 
 
 Its sallow sons adore the orb that yields 
 The rising blushes of the new-born day." 
 
 N Page 38.
 
 170 NOTES. 
 
 Perhaps the sun might with greater propriety be said for- 
 merly to have been, than now, an object of adoration to 
 the Persians. The introduction of Mahometism has long 
 since exploded the more ancient, and perhaps more innocent 
 religion, though there are still some few, who retain all the 
 prejudices of their ancestors. 
 
 NOTE 10. 
 
 " A polish'd twig th' unletter'd savage wears, 
 
 And to his bosom clasps the sapless wood." 
 
 Page 39. 
 
 A tribe of Americans. These have such rude notions of a 
 Supreme Being, that to a piece of wood, a bone, a stone, or 
 any portable and inanimate substance that hits their fancy, 
 they attribute all the functions of a God, and this they de- 
 signate their Feetjee ! 
 
 NOTE 11. 
 
 *' In eastern realms reside a harmless tribe. 
 Who bum their incense to th' aspiring flame!" 
 
 Page 39. 
 
 The disciples of Zoroaster, an ancient philosopher, who 
 taught that elementary fire is the first grand principle, and all 
 other matter is but an emanation from its body. " Of the 
 Parsees, or ancient worshippers of fire, there seem to be no 
 remains in Persia, except a few visitors of the fiery eruptions 
 of Naphtha near Baku, on the western shores of the Caspia i. 
 Tiicse innocent idolaters have been almo;t extirpated !jy Ma-
 
 NOTES. 171 
 
 hometan fanaticism, which has propagated every scandal 
 which malice could invent, representing them as dcvourers of 
 children, and familiar with other atrocities. Mr. Hanway 
 informs us that these Guebers, or Infidels, particularly worship 
 the everlasting fire near Baku, an emblem of Ormuzd, or su- 
 preme ineffable Creator; while the evil principle believed to 
 have sprung from matter, was stiled Ahuman. But tlie chief 
 worshippers of the fire of Baliu come from Hindoostan, to 
 which the Parsees retired when Abbass expelled them from 
 his empire, and they still abound near Bombay, where their 
 singular method of sepulture excites attention, as they expose 
 their dead in inclosed areas to be devoured by birds of prey, 
 a custom which has been propagated to other Oriental Na- 
 tions. Mr. Hanway says, that there were still some worship- 
 pers of fire at a place, thence called Gueberadad. near Ispahan." 
 
 Pinkerton's Geography. 
 
 NOTE 12. 
 
 ^' In Madagascar's unenlightened isle 
 A hollow bowl the sable native awes." 
 
 Page 31". 
 This as near as I can collect from the very simple narrative 
 of Mr. Robert Drury, a person of well attested veracity, who 
 was shipwrecked upon the coast, and for along series of years 
 endured all the horrors of slavery in Madagascar, is the form 
 under which the natives of that neglected island worship God. 
 For a further and more circumstantial account of their reli- 
 gion, I refer the reader to the above work, which they will 
 find very entertaining, and of which a new edition has recently 
 appeared.
 
 172 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 13. 
 
 " To them a monkey's jaw supplies a god, 
 
 A god minute and small! a lifeless bone! 
 
 To this they bow as parent of all good, 
 
 And praise the mighty tooth as God alone!" 
 
 Page 40. 
 
 Who shal! place a limit to human credulity, or say to super- 
 stition, " thus far shalt thou go, and no farther !" Strange and 
 incredible as it may appear, the inhabitants of an island in the 
 Indian Archipelago possessed no other semblance of God than 
 an ape's tooth, and as a proof of their devoted attachment to 
 their singular deity, they once bestowed upon a Dutchman, 
 who had clandestinely obtained possession of it, by way of 
 ransom, a sum of several hundred thousand pounds ! 
 
 NOTE 14. 
 
 " Twas this which gave Protean matter birth, 
 
 And shall at last the crumbling mass dissolve." 
 
 Page 51. 
 
 " Protean," alluding to the wonderful facility with which 
 matter, by virtue of its infinite divisibility, accommodates 
 itself to every change, form, and peculiar circumstance of its 
 varied existence. Philosophers assure us that since the foun- 
 dation of the world, near 6000 years back, it has neither lost 
 or gained a single particle, though every atom that lies 
 «ear the surface must repeatedly have changed the form and 
 manner of its existence. To adopt an idea, though 
 plain and simple, yet highly unworthy the magnificence
 
 NOTES. 175 
 
 ^ ■ I III ■ ■ ■■ ■ ■■■MM 
 
 of the subject, were it possible the reader could, at the instant 
 of perusing this note, weigh the world in a balance, with every 
 thing appertaining thereunto, he would find its weight precise- 
 ly the same with its allowed specific gravity at the time of its 
 original formation. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that 
 Cetes, by the Greeks called Proteus, was accustomed to wear 
 a head dress bearing the similitude, and fashioned after the 
 forms of different animals, whence the Egyptian priests, (from 
 whom the Greeks, with their accustomed avidity for the mar- 
 vellous, borrowed, and improved upon the fable,) feigned, that 
 he could at pleasure assume any form he chose, not excepting 
 even that of fire. 
 
 NOTE 15. 
 
 " 'Tis not by gift divine, that we possess. 
 
 Beyond the brutes superior pow'r to know, 
 
 Nor had their equal lot, their sense been less 
 
 Than our's, if chance had not ordained it so." 
 
 Page 51. 
 
 I am well aware this may appear a language almost too ridi- 
 culous even for the mouth of an atheist. But, as, in my hum- 
 ble judgment, the subtlest logician attempting to exalt the 
 absurd doctrine of chance over that of an all-powerful and 
 an intelligent Creator, must, from sheer necessity, find himself 
 reduced to the most miserable shifts and evasions to afford the 
 shadow of a support for his most wretched and groundlesi 
 arguments, I have ventured to insert it.
 
 174 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 16. 
 
 ** So Erostratus o'er the Ephesian piW 
 
 The flaming brand, the wild combustion threw; 
 
 Survey'd its smoking ruins with a smile, 
 
 And thence his guilt's eternal record drew !" 
 
 Page 53. 
 
 As the story of Erostratus may not immediately occur to 
 the recollection of my readers, I beg leave to subjoin the fol- 
 lowing brief account of this most extraordinary madman. 
 
 Erostratus possessing an ardent desire to transmit his name 
 to posterity, and despairing to acquire a lasting fame fairly 
 and honorably, (or perhaps from a natural depravity of dispo- 
 sition altogether indifferent to the means) as the most certain 
 step to the attainment of his wishes, set fire to the Temple of 
 Diana at Ephesus, and reduced this wonderful structure, 
 celebrated all over the world for its astonishing magnificence, 
 the beauty of its architecture, and the singular circumstances 
 of its erection, to ashes. When his indignant judges demanded 
 his motive, he candidly confessed it. They accordingly passed 
 a decree, enacting that no person should hereafter utter his 
 name upon pain of severe punishment, (I believe death.) But 
 the destruction of a temple, the resort of all Greece, could 
 not long be concealed from the historians of other states, and 
 the little effect of tliis law, the sequel has long since decided. 
 
 NOTE 17. 
 
 " As water to the spider's tread." Page 78. 
 
 On a fine summer's day myriads of these little animals may 
 l>c observed sporting upon the surface of the stream, and witt)
 
 NOTES. 175 
 
 a dexterity and activity truly astonishing, avoiding every effort 
 to ensnare them. Their shape is long and slender, and not 
 inelegant; tlieir colour a deep black. When a child, I have 
 frequently amused myself with watching these interesting lit- 
 tle voyagers, but never yet saw one sink beneath the surface; 
 nor are these the only insects for whom the waters seem to 
 have lost their elastic property. Every person in the habit 
 of strolling by the side of a clear brook, must have seen a spe- 
 cies of black bug, of an exact oval form, and about the bigness 
 of a lady bird, describing the most exact circles on the " glassy 
 wave," and coursing each other with as much eagerness as 
 the hare is pursued by the hounds, till tired of the sport, they 
 suddenly sink to the bottom. 
 
 NOTE 18. 
 
 " As fearless Pcttrell on the mountain waves," &e. 
 
 Page 85. 
 A species of aquatic fowl remarkable for their boldness in 
 a storm. They appear anxiously to await the coming of the 
 expected tempest, and when the waves have attained their 
 greatest height, they are seen to float upon their summits 
 with all the confidence and security imaginable. 
 
 NOTE 19. 
 
 " And like the fond Cornelia of old." Page 86. 
 
 Cornelia, a Roman lady of distinguisiied virtue, and the 
 
 motlier of the Grachii. She was requested, by several fe-
 
 J 76 Notes. 
 
 males who were ostentatiously exhibiting their jewels, to pro- 
 duce hers. She introduced her children ! 
 
 NOTE 20. 
 
 ** But swift as she, by gold betray'd " 
 
 Page 117. 
 Atalanta, with extraordinary beauty, possessed such incom- 
 parable swiftness, that she appeared rather to fly than run. 
 But the Gods had decreed, that whoever aspired to her 
 hand, must first outstrip her in the race; or, in case of failure 
 suffer death. Notwithstanding the apparent impossibility of 
 success, numbers, fired with the hope of winning such a 
 glorious prize, ventured, and lost their lives in the attempt. 
 Hippomenes, more prudent than the rest, implored the aid 
 of Venus in his behalf. She supplied him with three golden 
 apples, directing him, by trundling them before her, to divert 
 the attention of his fair competitor from the race. 
 
 " The first apple on the plain he threw, 
 The nymph stopped sudden at th' unusual sight, 
 Struck with the fruit so beautifully bright, 
 Aside she starts the wonder to behold, 
 And eager stoops to catch the rolling gold. 
 Th' observant youth passed by, and scoured along, 
 While peals of joy rung from th' applauding throng T' 
 
 She however recpvers her distance, and again leaves 
 
 " The panting youth behind, 
 Again he strives the flying nymph to hold, 
 With the temptation of the second gold;
 
 NOTES. 177 
 
 The briglit temptation fiaitlessly was toss'd, 
 So soon alas! she won the distance lost!" 
 The third apple, however, delayed her speed so long, that 
 
 Hippomenes, by this fortunate stratagem, won the victory and 
 
 the maid. 
 
 NOTE 21. 
 " Fix'd as they to forms of marble 
 Chang'd by cursed Persean shield." 
 
 Page 124. 
 
 Perseus, the son of Jupiter and Danae, possessed the head 
 of Medusa, which had the very singular property of turning 
 every beholder into stone; and accordingly formed a most 
 admirable shield of defence. The following stofy of one of 
 its exploits is an extract from Ovid's Metamorphoses. 
 
 " The crowds increasing and his friends distrest, 
 
 Himself by warring multitudes opprest, 
 
 Since thus unequally you fight, tis time 
 
 (He cried) to punish your presumptuous crime ; 
 
 Beware my friends : — his friends were soon prepai^ed, 
 
 Their sight averting high, tlic head he reared, 
 
 And Gorgon on his foes severely stared. 
 
 Vain shift, says Thesculus, with aspect bold, 
 Thee and thy bugbear monster I behold 
 With scorn:— he lifts his arm, but ere he threw 
 The dart, the hero to a statue grew ; 
 In the same posture still the marble stands, 
 And holds the warrior's weapons in its hands. 
 
 O
 
 J7S NOTES. 
 
 Aphyx, whom yet this wonder can't alarm, 
 Heaves at Lyncides' breast his impious arm, 
 But, while thus daringly he presses on, 
 His weapon and his arm are turned to stone." 
 
 " These for affronting Pallas were chastised, 
 And justly met the death they had despised; 
 And brave Aconteus, Perseus' friend by chance 
 Look'd back and met the Gorgons fatal glance : 
 A statue now become he ghastly stares, 
 And still the foe to mortal combat dares j 
 Astyages the living likeness knew, 
 On the dead stone with vengeful fury flew ; 
 Bnt impotent his rage ; the jarring blade 
 No print upon the solid marble made : 
 Again, as with redoubled might he struck. 
 Himself as tonish'd in the quarry stuck. 
 
 The vulgar deaths were tedious to rehearse. 
 And fates below the dignity of verse; 
 Their safety in their flight two hundred found, 
 Two hundred by Medusa's head were stoned.
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 18, line 14, for dm^d, read dragged. 
 39, — 3, forpossesed, read posseat. 
 49, — 8, for wonder, read question. 
 155, — 10, for know, read fcneic
 
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