WHICH THE OWNER OF HIM SOLD AT THE AUTHOR'S INSTANCE.
Go-thou art all unfit to share
The pleasures of this place,
With such as its old tenants are,
Creatures of gentler race.
The squirrel here his hoard provides,
Aware of wintry storms,
And woodpeckers explore the sides
Of rugged oaks for worms.
The sheep here smooths the knotted thorn, With frictions of her fleece;
And here I wander eve and morn,
Like her, a friend to peace.
Ah!-I could pity thee exiled
From this secure retreat-
I would not lose it to be styled
The happiest of the great.
But thou canst taste no calm delight;
Thy pleasure is to show
Thy magnanimity in fight,
Thy prowess-therefore go
I care not whether east or north,
So I no more may find thee;
The angry Muse thus sings thee forth,
And claps the gate behind thee.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME DE LA MOTHE GUION.
'Tis folly all-let me no more be told
Of Parian porticos, and roofs of gold:
Delighted views of Nature, dress'd by Art,
Enchant no longer this indiff'rent heart;
The Lord of all things, in his humble birth,
Makes mean the proud magnificence of Earth;
The straw, the manger, and the mould'ring wall,
Eclipse its lustre; and I scorn it all.
Canals, and fountains, and delicious vales,
Green slopes and plains, whose plenty never fails;
Deep-rooted groves, whose heads sublimely rise,
Earth-born, and yet ambitious to the skies;
The abundant foliage of whose gloomy shades,
Vainly the sun, in all its pow'r, invades:
Where warbled airs of sprightly birds resound,
Whose verdure lives while Winter scowls around
Rocks, lofty mountains, caverns dark and deep,
And torrents raving down the rugged steep,
Smooth downs, whose fragrant herbs the spirits cheer;
Meads crown'd with flowers; streams musical and clear,
Whose silver waters, and whose murmurs, join
Their artless charms, to make the scene divine;
The fruitful vineyard, and the furrow'd plain,
That seems a rolling sea of golden grain:
All, all have lost the charms they once possess'd;
An infant God reigns sov'reign in my breast;
From Bethl'em's bosom I no more will rove;
There dwells the Saviour, and there rests my love.
Ye mightier rivers, that, with sounding force,
Urge down the valleys your impetuous course!
Winds, clouds, and lightnings! and ye waves whose heads,
Curl'd into monstrous forms, the seaman dreads!
Horrid abyss, where all experience fails,
Spread with the wreck of planks and shatter'd sails;
On whose broad back grim Death triumphant rides,
While havoc floats on all thy swelling tides,
Thy shores a scene of ruin, strew'd around
With vessels bulged, and bodies of the drown'd!
Ye fish, that sport beneath the boundless waves,
And rest, secure from man, in rocky caves;
Swift-darting sharks, and whales of hideous size,
Whom all th' aquatic world with terror eyes!
Had I but faith immoveable and true,
I might defy the fiercest storm, like you;
The world, a more disturb'd and boist'rous sea,
When Jesus shows a smile, affrights not me;
He hides me, and in vain the billows roar,
Break harmless at my feet and leave the shore.
Thou azure vault, where through the gloom of night, Thick sown, we see such countless worlds of light! Thou Moon, whose car, encompassing the skies, Restores lost Nature to our wond'ring eyes;
Again retiring, when the brighter Sun
Begins the course he seems in haste to run!
Behold him where he shines! His rapid rays,
Themselves unmeasured, measure all our days!
Nothing impedes the race he would pursue,
Nothing escapes his penetrating view,
A thousand lands confess his quick'ning heat,
And all he cheers are fruitful, fair, and sweet,
Far from enjoying what these scenes disclose,
I feel the thorn, alas! but miss the rose;
Too well I know this aching heart requires
More solid good to fill its vast desires;
In vain they represent his matchless might,
Who call'd them out of deep primæval night;
Their form and beauty but augment my woe:
I seek the giver of those charms and show:
Nor, Him beside, throughout the world he made,
Lives there, in whom I trust for cure or aid.
Infinite God, thou great unrivall'd ONE?
Whose glory makes a blot of yonder sun:
Compared with thine, how dim his beauty seems,
How quench'd the radiance of his golden beams!
Thou art my bliss, the light by which I move;
In thee alone dwells all that I can love;
All darkness flies when thou art pleased t' appear,
A sudden spring renews the fading year;
Where'er I turn, I see thy pow'r and grace,
The watchful guardians of our heedless race;
Thy various creatures in one strain agree,
All, in all times and places, speak of thee;
Ev'n I, with trembling heart and stamm'ring tongue,
Attempt thy praise, and join the gen'ral song.
Almighty Former of this wondrous plan,
Faintly reflected in thine image, man-
Holy and just-the Greatness of whose name
Fills and supports this universal frame,
Diffused through th' infinitude of space,
Who art thyself thine own vast dwelling place;
Soul of our soul, whom yet no sense of curs
Discerns, eluding our most active pow'rs:
Encircling shades attend thine awful throne,
That veil thy face, and keep thee still unknown;
Unknown, though dwelling in our inmost part,
Lord of the thoughts, and Sov'reign of the heart!
Repeat the charming truth, that never tires,
No God is like the God my soul desires;
He at whose voice Heav'n trembles, even He,
Great as he is, knows how to stoop to me-
Lo! there he lies-that smiling infant said,
"Heav'n, Earth, and Sea, exist!"-and they obey'd.
E'en He, whose being swells beyond the skies,
Is born of woman, lives, and mourns, and dies;
Eternal and Immortal, seems to cast
That glory from his brow, and breathes his last.
Trivial and vain the works that man has wrought,
How do they shrink, and vanish at the thought!
Sweet Solitude, and scene of my repose!
This rustic sight assuages all my woes-
That crib contains the Lord, whom I adore ;
And Earth's a shade, that I pursue no more.
He is my firm support, my rock, my tow'r,
I dwell secure beneath his shelt'ring power,
And hold this mean retreat for ever dear,
For all I love, my soul's delight, is here.
I see th' Almighty swathed in infant bands,
Tied helpless down the Thunder-bearer's hands!
And, in this shed, that mystery discern,
Which Faith and Love, and they alone, can learn.
Ye tempests, spare the slumbers of your Lord!
Ye zephyrs, all your whisper'd sweets afford!
Confess the God, that guides the rolling year;
Heav'n do him homage; and thou, Earth, revere!
2 E
Ye shepherds, monarchs, sages, hither bring
Your hearts an offring, and adore your King!
Pure be those hearts, and rich in faith and love;
Join, in his praise, th' harmonious world above;
To Bethl'em haste, rejoice in his repose,
And praise him there for all that he bestows!
Man, busy Man, alas! can ill afford
Tobey the summons, and attend the Lord;
Perverted Reason revels and runs wild,
By glitt'ring shows of pomp and wealth beguiled;
Aud, blind to genuine excellence and grace,
Finds not her author in so mean a place.
Ye unbelieving! learn a wiser part,
Distrust your erring sense, and search your heart;
There, soon ye shall perceive a kindling flame
Glow for that Infant God, from whom it came;
Resist not, quench not, that divine desire,
Melt all your adamant in heav'nly fire!
Not so will I requit thee, gentle Love!
Yielding and soft this heart shall ever prove;
And every heart beneath thy power should fall,
Glad to submit, could mine contain them all.
But I am poor, oblation I have none,
None for a Saviour, but Himself alone:
Whate'er I render thee, from thee it came;
And, if I give my body to the flame,
My patience, love, and energy divine,
Of heart, and soul, and spirit, all are thine.
Al, vain attempt, t' expunge the mighty score !
The more I pay, I owe thee still the more.
Upon my meanness, poverty, and guilt,
The trophy of thy glory shall be built;
My self-disdain shall be th' unshaken base,
And my deformity its fairest grace;
For destitute of good, and rich in ill,
Must be my state and my discription still.
And do I grieve at such an humbling lot?
Nay, but I cherish and enjoy the thought-
Vain pageantry and pomp of Earth, adieu'
I have no wish, no memory for you;
The more I feel my mis'ry, I adore
The sacred Inmate of my soul the more;
Rich in his love, I feel my noblest pride
Spring from the sense of having nought beside.
In thee. I find wealth, comfort, virtue, might;
My wand'rings prove thy wisdom infinite;
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