« PreviousContinue »
You see the man; you fue his hold on hcar'n, $96. Pilture of Narcisa, Defcription of her Fune.
And young as beautiful! and soft as young! To vice, confusion; and to virtue, peace.
And gay as foft! and innocent as gay! ! Whatever farce the boastful hero plays,
And happy (if aught happy here) as good! Virtue alone has majesty in death;
For fortune fond had built her neft on high. And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns.
Like birds quite exquisite of note and plume,
And left it unharmonious ! All its chariots
Extinguish'd in the wonders of her lungi OVE calls for love. Not all the pride of Sull melting there, and with voluptuous pain
Her fong still vibrates in my ravilh'd car, L
beauty ; Those eyes that tell us what the sun is made of;| O to forget her!) thrilling thro' my heart! Those lips, whose touch is to be bought with life! Of bright ideas, How'rs of paradite, [this group
Song, Beauty, Youth, Love, Virtue, Joy! Those hills of driven snow, which leen are felt : As yet unforfeit' in one blate we blad, All these pollest are nought, but as they are
Kneel, and present it to the skies ; as all The proof, the substance of an inward passion,
We guess of heav'n, and thele were all her own, And the rich plunder of a taken heart.
And she was mine ; and I was -was! - moft
As bodies grow more pond'rous robb’d of life, $ 93. Pleasures of Meditation. YOUNG Good lost wcighs more in grief than gain'd in joy.
Like blossom'd trees o'erturn’d by vernal storin, FROM Dreams, where thought in fancy's maze Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay ; runs mad,
And if in death still lovely, lovelier there ; To Reason, that heav'n-lighted lamp in man, Far lovelier' pity (wells the tide of love. Once more I wake; and at the destin'd hour, And will not the levere excuse a sigh? Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, Scorn the proud man that is afham’d to weep; I keep my afsignation with my woe.
Our tears indulg'd indeed deserve our shame. o loft to virtue, loft to manly thought, Ye that e'er lost an angel ! pity me. Loft to the noble sallies of the soul !
Soon as the luftre languisht in her eye, Who think it solitude to be alone.
Dawning a dimmer day on human fight; Communion sweet! communion large and high! And on her cheek, the residence of spring, Our Reason, Guardian Angel, and our God ! Pale Omen sat, and scatter'd fears around Then nearest these, when others moit remote; On all that saw (and who would cease to gaze And all, ere long, shall be remote but these, That once had seen?) With hafte, parental haste, How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone, I few, I snatch'd her from the rigid north, A stranger! unacknowledg'd! unapprov'd ! Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew, Now woo them ; wed them; bind them to thy And bore her nearer to the sun ; the sun To win thy with creation has no more : (breast; (As if the sun could envy) checkt his beam, Or if we with a fourth, it is a friend
Deny'd his wonted succour; nor with more But friends, how mortal ! dang’rous the desire. Regret beheld her drooping than the bells
Of lilies ; faireft lilics not lo fair !
Queen lilies! and ye painted populace !
Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrosial lives, & 94. Beauty. YOUNG.
In morn and ev'ning des your beauties bachoni | BEAUTY alone is but of little worth ; And drink the fun, which gives your cheeks to
But when the soul and body of a piece, And out-blush(mine excepted) every fair; [glow,
To thought fo pure! Ye lovely fugitives!
Why not finile at him too? You share indeed $95. Paffions. YOUNG.
His sudden pass, but not his constant pain. WHEN Reason, like the skilful charioteer, So man is made nought minifters delight
Can break the fiery pallions to the bit, But what his glowing palsions can engage ; And, spite of their licentious Tallies, keep And glowing passions bent on aught below, The radiant track of glory ; passions, then, Muft, foon or late, with anguilh turn the scale ; Are aids and ornaments. Triumphant Reason, And anguish, after rapture, how severe ! Firm in her seat and swift in her career, Rapture! bold man! whotempts the wrath divinega Enjoys their violence ; and, smiling, thanks By plucking fruit deny'd to mortal taste, Their formidable flame for high renown. While here prefuming on the rights of Heav'n.
For transport dost thou call on ev'ry hour, Far less than this is shocking in a race
And, but for love divine, this moment, loft,
Most horrid ! 'Mid ftupendous, highly strange!
Man is to man the forest, fureft ill.
O'erwhelming turrets threaten ere they fall; Strangers to kindness wept : Their eyes let fall Volcanos bellow ere they disembogue; Inhuinan tcars; strange tears! that trickled down Earth trembles ere her yawning jais devour ; Froin marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness!
And smoke betrays the wide-consuming fire e A tenderness that call'd them more severe; Ruin from man is most conceal'd when near, In spite of nature's soft perfuafion, steeld;
And sends the dreadful tidings in the blow. While nature melted, superstition rav'd !
Is this the flight of fancy? Would it were ! That mourn’d the dead, and this deny'd a grave. Heav'n's Sovereign faves all beings, but himself, Their fighs incens'd; sighs foreign to the will!
That hideous sight, a naked human heart.
§ 97. Jealousy. YOUNG.
IT is Jealousy's peculiar nature Deny'd the charity of dust to spread
Tofivell sinall things to great; nay, out of nought O'er duft! a charity their dogs enjoy.
To conjure much; and then to lose its reason What could I do? What succour: What resource? Amid the hideous phantoms it has form’d. With pious facrilege, a grave I stole; With impious piety, that grave I wrongd ; Short in my duty; coward in my grief !
§ 98. Pelions. YOUNG. More like her murderer, than friend, I crept, With foft suspended Itep, and muffled deep
WHILE pafsions glow, the heart, like heated
steel, In midnight darkness, whisper'd my last figh.
Takes each impression, and is work dat pleasure. I whisper'd what should echo thro' their realms; Nor writ her name whole tomb thould picrce
the fkies. Presumptuous fear! How durft I dread her foes,
$ 99. Dying Friends. Young. While nature's loudett dictates I obey'd ? OUR dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, Pardon neceflity, bleft fhade! Of grief
To damp our brainless ardours, and abate And indignation rival bursis 1 pour'd;
Thaç glare of life, which often blinds the wise. Half execration mingled with my pray'r; Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth Kindled at inan, while I his God ador'd; Our rugged pass to death ; to break those bars Sore grudy'd the favage land her facred duft; Of terror and abhorrence nature throws Stampt the curst foil; and with humanity Cross our obstructed way; and, thus to make (Deny'd Narciifa) with'd them all a grave. Welcome, as safe, our port from ev'ry ftorm.
Glows my resentment into guilt? What guilt Each friend by fate thatch'd from us, is a plume Can equal violations of the dead?
Pluckt from the wing of human vanity, The dead how sacred! Sacred is the dust Which makes us stoop froin our aërial heights, Of this heav'n-labour'd form, ereći, divine ; And, dampt with omen of our own disease, This heav'n-assum'd majestic robe of carth On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd, He dcigu'd to wear, who hung the vast expanse | Just skim carth's surface, ere we break it up, With azure bright, and cloath'd the fun in gold. O'er putrid carth to scratch a little dust, When ev'ry pallion llecps that can offend; And save the world a nuisance. Smitten friends When strikes us ev'ry motive that can melt; Are angels fent on errands full of love; When man can reak his rancour uncontrould, For us they languilh, and for us they die : That strongest curb on insult and ill-will; And shall they languilh, fhall they die in vain ? Then, spleen to dust? the dust of innocence; Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hov’ring shades, An angel's dust?--This Lucifer transcends; Which wait the revolution in our hearts? When he contended for the patriarch's bones, Shall we disdain their filent soft address ; 'Twas not the strife of malice, but of pride; Their posthumous advice, and pious prayer? The atrite of pontiff pride, not pontiff gall. Senseless as herds that graze the hallow'd graves,
Tread under-foot their agonies and groans ;.
It is another scene! another felf! Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deaths ? And still another as tiine rolls along;
Lorenzo! no; the thcught of death indulge; And that a self far more illustrious itill. Give it its wholesome empire ! let it reign, Beyond long ages, yet rollid up in thades, That kind chastiser of thy soul in joy! Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray, Its reign will spread thy glorious conquests far, What evolutions of surprising fate! And still the tumults of thy ruffled breaft: How nature opens, and receives my soul [gods Aufpicious Era! golden days, begin!
In boundless walks of raptur'd thought! where The thought of death thall, like a god, inspire. Encounter and embrace me! What new births
Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun,
Where what now charms, perhaps, whatc'er $ 100. Thanks to the Deity. YOUNG.
Old time, and fair creation, are forgot! (exists,
Is this extravagant? Of man we form
LEST be that hand divine, which gently laid Extravagant conception to be just:
Conception unconfin'd wants wings to reach him!
Reforbs them all into himself again; I see the circling hunt of noisy m
His thronc their centre, and his smile their crown. Burft law's inclosure, leap the mounds of right, Pursuing, and pursu'd, each other's prey; As wolves for rapine; as the fox for wiles ;
§ 103. Beeling. Young. .
HO never lov'd ne'er suffer'd; he feels
nothing, § 101. Human Life. YOUNG.
Who nothing feels but for himself alone ;
And when we feel for others, reason els, -AH! what is human life? O'erloaded, from her path, and man runs mad. How like the dial's tardy-moving shade, As love alone can exquisitely bless, Day after day slides from us unperceiv'd ! Love only feels the marvellous of pain; The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth; Opens new veins of torture in the foul, Too subtle is the movement to be seen : And wakes the nerve where agonies are born. Yet foon the hour is up and we are gone.
$ 104. Religion. Young. § 102. Man. Young.
RELIGION's all. Descending from the skies MAN! know thyself. All wisdom centres To wretched man, the goddess in her left there !
Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next; To none man seems ignoble but to man; Religion ! the soul voucher man is man; Angels that grandeur, men o'erlook, admire : Supporter sole of man above himself; How long shall human nature be their book, Ev'n in this night of frailty, change, and death, Degen’rate mortal! and unread by thee? She gives the soul a soul that acts a god. The beam dim reason sheds (hews wonders there ; Religion! Providence ! an after-Itate! What high contents ! Illustrious faculties ! Here is firm footing; here is folid rock! But the grand comment, which displays at full This can support us; all is fea besides ; Our human height, scarce sever'd from divine, Sinks under us; bestorms, and then devours. By Heav'n coin pos’d, was publish'd on the cross. His hand the good man fastens on the skies,
Who looks on that, and sees not in himself And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. An awful strange, a terrestrial god ?
As when a wretch, from thick, polluted air, A glorious partner with the Deity
Darkness, and stench, and fuffocating damps, In that high attribute, immortal life?
And dungcon-horrors, by kind fate discharg'd, If a God bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm; Climbs some fair eminence, where æther pure I gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting foul Surrounds him, and Elysian prospects rise, Catches strange fire, Eternity! at Thee; His heart exults, his fpirits cast their load í And drops the world-wor rather, more enjoys : As if new-born, he triumphs in the change ; How chang'd the face of nature ! how improv'd! So joys the soul when, from inglorious aims What seem'd a chaos shines a glorious world, And sordid sweets, from feculence and froth Or, what a world, an Eden; heighten'd all i Of ties terrestrial, fet at large, lhe mounts
To Reason's region, her own clement,
Praise no man c'er deserv'd who fought no more. Breathes hopes immortal, and aftects the skies. As just thy fecond charge. I grant, the muse
Religion! thou the foul of happiness ; Has often blusht at her degen’ratc fons, And groaning Calvary, of thee! There shine Retain’d by sense to plead her filthy cause; The noblest truths; there strongest motives sting : To raise the low, to magnify the mcan, Tlcre sacred violence assaults the foul ;
And subtilize the gross into refin'd: There nothing but compulson is forborn. As if to magic numbers powerful charm Can love allure us, or can terror awes
'Tiras given, to make a civct of their song He woeps !--the falling drop puts out the sun; Obicenc, and sweetcn ordure to perfuinc. He fighs !---the righ earth's deep foundation Wit, truc pagan, duifies the brute, If in his love fo terrible, what when [thakes. And lifts our livine-enjoyments from the mire. His wrath inflam'd? his tenderness on fire? The fact notorious, nor obscure the cause. Like soft, smooth oil, outblazing other fires ? We wear the chains of pleasure and of pride ; Can pray’r, can praise avert it?-Thou, mny All! These share the man; and these distract him too; My theme! my inspiration and my crown! Draw different ways, and clash in their comMy strength in age! my rise in low estate!
mands. My foul's ambition ! pleasure ! wealth !—my Pride, like an cagle, builds among the stars ; world!
But pleature, lark-like, nefts upon the ground. My light in darkness! and my life in death ! Joys shar'd by brute-creation, pridc rctents ; My boast thro' time! bliss thro' eternity! Pleasure embraces : Man would both enjoy, Eternity! too short to speak thy praise ! And both at once: A point how hard to gain! Or fathom thy profound of love to man; But what can't wit, when stung by strong desire ? To man of men the mcanest, ev'n to me:
Wit dares attempt this arduous enterprise. My Yacrifice! iny God !—what things art these! Since joys of sense can't rise to reason's taste;
In fubtle fophiftry's laborious forgc, 105. Yealovly. Young.
Wit hammers out a reason new, that stoops
To sordid scenes, and mcets them with applause. CO JEALOUSY, cach other pallion's calm Wit calls the Graces thc chalte zone to loose; To thee, thou conflagration of the soul !
Nor less than a plump god to fill the bowl: Thou king of torments ! thou grand counter- A thousand phantoms, and a thousand spells, For all the transports beauty can inspire ! [poise A thousand opiates scatters, to delude,
To fafcinate, inebriate, lay allcep, $ 106. Faith and Reason. Young. And the fool'd mind delightfully confound.
Thus, that which Ihock'd the judgment shocks as we arc, and justly found, of faith, Realon, ie grant, demands our first regard, That which gave gride offence, no more offends. The mother honour'd, as the daughter dear.
Pleasure and pride, by nature mortal focs, Rcalon the root, fair faith is but the flower ;
At war cternal which in man shall reign, The fading Aower thall die ; but reason lives
By wit's address, patch up a fatal peace, Immortal, as her father in the skies.
And hand in hand Icad on the rank debauch, When faith is virtuc, rcaton makes it so.
From rank, refin'd to delicate and gay. Wrong not thc Christian; think not reason Art, cursed art! wipes off th’indebted blush. yours :
From nature's cheek, and bronzes ev'ry Mame. 'Tis rcaton our great Mafter holds so dear ;
Man smiles in ruin, glorics in his guilt, 'Tis reason's injur'd rights His wrath retents;
And Infamy stands candidate for praise. 'Tis realon's voice obey'd his glorics crown;
All writ by man in favour of the soul, To give lost reason life, He pour'd his own:
Thcfc sensual cthics far, in bulk, transcend Believe, and flew the reason of a man ;
The flow'rs of eloquence, profusely pour'd Believe, and taste the pleasure of a God ;
O'er spotted vice, fill half the letter'd world.
Can powers of genius exercise their page,
$ 109. Reflection on the World. YOUNG. § 107. Misfortune. Young.
WHAT is this world ? — Thy school, o TISFORTUNEtands with her bow ever bent
mifery! O'er the world; and he who wounds ano
Our only leffon is to learn to suffer; [thing. Directs the goddess by that part he wounds, (ther, And he who knows not that, was born for noWhere to strike deep her arrows in hinfelf.
s 110. Darkness and Solitude. Young, $ 108. Vanity and Adulution. YOUNG.
LET Indians, and the gay, like Indians, fond LORENZO to recriminate is just.
Of feather'd fopperics, the sun adore; Fondnes for fame is avarice of air, Darkness has more divinity for me; I grant, the man is vain who writes for praise. It strikes thought inward; it drives back the foul
no more ;
To settle on Herself our point supreme ! Hail, precious moments ! ftol'n from the black There lies our theatre! there fits our judge.
waste Darkness the curtain drops o'er life's dull scene; Of murder'd time! Auspicious midnight, hail ! 'Tis the kind hand of Providence stretcht out The world excluded, ev'ry passion hushid, 'Twixt man and vanity ; 'tis reason's reign, And open'd a calm intercourse with Hear'n, And virtue's too ; these tutelary thades
Here the soul fits in council ; ponder: past, Are man's asylum from the tainted throng. Predestings future action ; fecs, not feels, Night is the good man's friend and guardian too; Tumultuous life, and realons with the storin; It no less rescues virtue than inspires.
All her lyes answers, and thinks down her charms. Virtue, for ever frail as fair, below, Her tender nature fuffers in the crowd, Nor touches on the world without a stain:
$111. Ingratitude. Young. The world's infectious; few bring back at eve, Immaculate, the manners of the morn.
HE that's ungrateful has no guilt but one ; Something we thought, is blotted; we resolv'd,
All other crines may pass for virtues in hiin. Is shaken ; we renounc'd, returns again. Each falutation may 1lide in a sin Unthought bcfore, or fix a former flaw.
$ 112. Reflections in a Church-yard. Young. Norisititrange : Light, motion, concourse, noise, THE
HE man how blett, who, fick of gaudy All, scatter us abroad; thought outward bound,
fccnes, Neglectful of our home affairs, fries off (Scenes apt to thrust between us and ourselves!) In tume and dissipation, quits her charge, Is led by choice to take his fav’rite walk And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe.
Beneath death's gioomy, silent, cypress shades,
Unpierc'd by vanity's fantastic ray ;
Vint his vaults, and dwell among the tombs !
Her moral stone; few doctors preach so well; From fmiling man. A Night, a single glance,
Few orators so tenderly can touch And shot at random, often has brought home The feeling heart. What pathos in the date ! A fudden fever to the throbbing hcart,
Apt words can strike: and yet in them we fee Of envy, rancour, or impure delire.
Faint images of what we liere enjoy. We fee, we hcar, with peril; safety dwells What caufe have we to build on length of life? Remote from multitude; the world's a school Temptations feize when fcar is laid wileep; Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around! And ill foreboded is our strongest guard. We must or imitate, or disapprove;
See from her tomb, as from an humble shrine, Muft list as their accomplices, or focs;
Truth, radiant goddess' fallies on iny soul, That stains our innocence; this wounds our peace. And puts Delusion's dusky train to fight; From nature's birth, hence wisdom has been fimit Dispels the mists our sultry pallions raise, With sweet recefs, and languifht for the shade. From objects low, terrestrial, and obscene,
This facred thade, and folitude, what is it? And sheivs the real estimate of things; 'Tis the felt presence of the Deity.
Which no man, unafflicted, ever saw; Few are the faults we flatter when alone: Pulls off the veil from virtue's rising charms; Vice sinks in her allurements, is ungilt,
Detects temptation in a thousand lyes, And looks, like other objects, black by night.
Truth bids me look on men as autumn leaves, By night an Atheist half-believes a Gód. And all they bleed for, as the summer's dust,
Night is fair virtue's immemorial friend; Driv'n by the whirlwind: Lighted by her beams,
Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, Aceting bliss la private audience; all the live-long night, Ar the first blast it vanishes in alë.
und yet Rigid in thought, and motionless, he stands į What grave prescribes the best.com A friend's: Nor quits his theme, or posture, till the fun From a friend's grave how foon we disengage ! (Rude drunkard, rising roly from the main ) Ev'n to the dearcít, as his marble, cold. Difurbs his nobler intellectual beam,
Why are friends ravisht froin us? 'Tis to bind, And gives him to the tumult of the world. By soft affection's tics, on human hearts