MAN is a creature of a curious mould:
The mass of motives, erds, and varying aims,
That seize his soul in diff'rent stations plac'd,
Is strangely heterogeneous and crude—
He needs some hand, some friendly hand, to guide,
To teach him which to love and which t' repel ;
Without this, headlong as adown a steep,
He runs, as will or hasty whim may draw :
Thus, oft we've seen some one, whose mind was great,
Ay, who the throng could grasp, and wield around,
Turn all his various powers to making big
His little self-who, from on high, could view
The multitude of minor intellect,
And wave his banner o'er, and horde them all,
The lean low purpose of a narrow breast,
Alone has aided, and himself has made,
A purpled mite, instead of blessing thousands.
Behold the picture Europe rolls to view!
An empire of destruction: nature's ties,
Trod down by the strong foot of war,
And thousands rushing to untimely graves!
Mars his dogs has kennell'd; now his tigers rage!
India groans; in wild commotion raging,
Her sable millions slay their dearest joys.
Their kingdoms fall: a foreign foe,
With mercenary hand, usurps and rules.
Africk! thy woes are less'ning, but are great.
And o'er our realm the sullen silence reigns,
Which is before two floods of ruin rush,
Ycleped armies, to destruction dire.
"What is our world? Thy school O misery!"
Where bubbles rise, and men pursue-to death—
Illusions flit, and fill with rage-then die—
But heaps of slain attend them! This is man.
And thus he will be while he rules himself.
Let us then look to some one shall o'errule :
And who is that but GOD! He says thus far
To bold destruction's wave, and, the rich fount,
The overflowing fount of good, he holds :
'Tis he must mould our hearts and banish ill;
His smiles are balm, are peace, content, and bliss,
He looks abroad o'er all the little mass
Of man-like-atoms, and their changes turns
To his own glory, nor neglects their good.
E'en now-in these foretold tempestuous years,
War and young Chaos have not all our world;
Peace has some place; and mild religion, bland
As the airs of Heaven, her lovely sceptre
Sweetly sways o'er many : Her sweetness too
With strength combin'd begins t' exert ; abroad
Her pow'r she spreads, and rouses forth her means.
See missions spreading like fair floods of light,
And reaching darkness' realms! See the hydra,
Sin, alarm'd, and satan, arch deceiver,
Driven to planning new revenge, more wiles,
If more he can-seats which he long, unhurt,
Had held, invaded; and kingdoms, slumb’ring
'Neath his leaden sway, rousing with vigor,
And seeking virtue in the paths of truth:
His foe walks forth, mildly majestick, firm
As adamant, and rules to instant peace,
Or breaks him in the battle. See his herd
Of infidels, of atheists, and fools;
Which were thro' lands of civilization spread,
Descending and descended to their graves,
While their vile tenets, proud, rebellious, false,
Serve but to point the sunbeams of their foe,
Which dissipate the darkness: greater light
Has come to all, and treasures, hidden long,
Flow forth to view: the days are hastening,
When the chained fiend, driv'n from earth, shall fall,
With all his aids, and ministers, and slaves,
Headlong and vanquish'd to th' impris'ning gulph,
There to eternize groans and pangs and sorrow.
In GoD then let us trust. If this we do,
With piety, he'll save us in the cloud
Of jarring atoms or of jarring worlds,
And lift our souls above, and place us safe,
Where Hell may frown and flattery smile in vain.
THE hand that guides the joyous way,
Where youthful pleasure smiles;
The dew that shines at early day,
When health the hour beguiles;
Both treasures seem-but both are gone
When scarcely we've enjoy'd,
This by the Sun's embrace has flown;
That is by death destroy'd:
But is there nought to cheer the sight?
No star to gild the gloom?
May not some blessing, beaming bright,
Illume beyond the tomb ?
Ah yes, there is a treasure dear,
Which mortals may obtain;
A joy to dry the falling tear
A balm to heal the pain:
|