To wing the kindling with, or fpread O'er Thought's pale check enliv'ning red; Come, hoary Pow'r with ferious eye, Whofe thought explores yon diftant sky; Now when the bufy world is ftill, Nor paffion tempts the wav'ring will, When fweeter hopes each pow'r controul, And quiet whifpers to the foul, Now fweep from life th' illufive train That dance in Folly's dizzy brain : Be Reafon's fimple draught portray'd, Where blends alternate light and fhade; Bid dimpled Mirth, with thought belyed, Sport on the bubble's glitt'ring fide; Bid Hope purfue the diftant boon, And Phrenzy watch the fading moon; Paint Superftition's farting eye, And Wit tifat leers with gefture fly; Let Cenfure whet her venom'd dart, And green-eyed Envy gnaw the heart; Let Pleafure lie on flow'rs reclin'd, While Anguifh aims her shaft behind.
Hail, Sire fublime, whofe hallow'd cave Howls to the hoarfe deep's dafhing wave; Thee Solitude to Phoebus bore, Far on the lone deferted fhore, Where Orellano's rufhing tide Roars on the rock's projected fide. Hence bursting o'er thy ripen'd mind, Beams all the father's.thought refin'd: Hence oft, in filent vales unfeen, Thy footsteps print the fairy green; Or thy foul melts to ftrains of woe, That from the willow's quiv'ring bough Sweet warbling breathe-the zephyrs round O'er Dee's smooth current waft the found, When foft on banding ofiers laid The broad fun trembling thro' the bed; All wild thy heav'n-rapt Fancy ftrays, Led thro' the foul-diffolving maze; Till Slumber downy-pinion'd, near Plants her strong fetlocks on thy car; The foul unfetter'd burfts away, And bafks enlarg'd in beamy day.
§ 118. Ode to Innocence. "TWAS when the flow-declining ray
Had ting'd the cloud with evening gold; No warbler pour'd the melting lay, No found disturb'd the fleeping fold. When by a mum'ring rill reclin'd Sat wrapt in thought a wand'ring fwain; Calm peace compos'd his mufing mind; And thus he rais'd the flowing strain : "Hail, Innocence! celeftial maid! "What joys thy blufhing charms reveal! "Sweet as the arbour's cooling fhade, "And milder than the vernal gale. "On Thee attends a radiant choir,
Soft-fmiling Peace, and downy Reft; "With Love, that prompts the warbling lyre; "And Hope, that foothes the throbbing breaft.
"Oh fent from heaven to haunt the grove, “ Where squinting Envy ne'er can come ! "Nor pines the cheek with lucklefs love, "Nor Anguifh chills the living bloom.
"But fpotlefs Beauty, rob'd in white, "Sits on yon mofs-grown hill reclin'd; "Serene as heaven's unfullied light, "And pure as Delia's gentle mind. "Grant, Heavenly Pow'r! thy peaceful fway "May till my ruder thoughts controul;
Thy hand to point my dubious Thy voice to foothe the melting foul. "Far in the fhady fweet retreat
"Let Thought beguile the ling'ring hour; "Let Quiet court the moffy feat, "And twining olives form the bow'r. "Let dove-eved Peace her wreath bestow, "And of it lift'ning in the dale, "While Night's fweet warbler from the bough "Tells to the grove her plaintive tale.
"Soft as in Delia's fnowy breaft, "Let each confenting paffion move; "Let Angels watch its filent reft, "And all its blissful dreams be Love!"
$119. Hymn to Science. LIBRARY MAGAZINE.
SCIENCE! thou fair effufive ray From the great fource of mental day, Free, gen'rous, and refin'd, Defcend, with all thy treasures fraught, Illumine cach bewilder'd thought,
And bless my lab'ring mind.
But firft with thy refiftlefs light Difperfe thofe phantoms from my sight, Thofe mimic fhades of thee, The fcholiaft's learning, fophift's cant, The vifionary bigot's rant, The monk's philofophy.
Oh! let thy pow'rful charm impart The patient head, the candid heart, Devoted to thy fway;
Which no weak paffions e'er mislead, Which ftill with dauntless steps proceed Where reafon points the way.
Give me to learn each fecret caufe, Let Numbers, Figures, Motion's laws Reveal'd before me ftand. Then to great Nature's fcenes apply, And round the globe and thro' the sky Difclofe her working hand.
Thro' private life pursue thy courfe, Trace ev'ry action to its fource,
And means and motives weigh; Put tempers, paffions, in the fcale, Mark what degrees in each prevail, And fix the doubtful fway. XII.
The laft beft effort of thy fkill, To form the life, and rule the will, Propitious pow'r, impart! Teach me to cool my paffion's fires, Make me the judge of my defires, The master of my heart.
XIII. Raife me above the vulgar breath, Purfuit of fortune, dread of death, And all in life that's mean: Still true to Reafon be my plan, And let my actions fpeak the man, Thro' ev'ry varying scene.
ROUSE then, exert thy talents, neither weak,
Nor 'mid the fons of dulnefs doom'd to fneak. Get learning: 'tis the grace of Science fair, That gives the lib'ral mind its nobleft air. Get Knowledge: it enfures enjoyment true, Fit felf-esteem, a claim to rev'rence due. Get Wifdom: in her train the virtues fhine, Thy guides, with Hope and Faith, to blifs divine. Get Wifdom-arduous aim! not hopeless-run Begin: half ended is the race begun. Fleet, even at ftarting for the victor's meed, Fly, the whole courfe is glowing; fleeter fpeed. The ftripling drone, for life a driv❜ler, ends A fhame, a burthen to himself and friends. Blank as decrepitude fhall youth flit by, Manhood unmark'd by one flight merit die. Lo! yon dull clown bends o'er his fork, demurs, Yawns, liftlefs eyes the gliding ftream, nor ftirs; But waits its gliding off, that gliding still From ages to fucceedent ages will.
As idly toil thefe dolts, in chace as vain Of air-gilt bubbles, pleasure, grandeur, gain. Ill does an earth-worm's offal, thy purfuit, Bafe worldling, a celeftial fpirit fuit;
Born to hold commerce with its kindred fkies, From strength to ftrength to glory born to rife.
"Who talks of spirit? All corporeal grown, "Each thinks of feeming now, of being none; "A brilliant equipage, a modifh wife,
"The flutter, noife, and outfide glare of life. "In building, gard'ning, fordid is the plan, "That fuits the rank and fortune of the man; "Abject the tafte, that stoops to things of use, "Poor the best-order'd board, if not profufe."
Rare noftrums thefe, to heal a fev'rish heart i A&t thou the rational, the decent part, Which truth, pure nature, and religion trace, With moral dignity, with manly grace;
Fair Virtue's offspring, Pleafure, lovely ward Of Heaven-taught Wifdom, fhall thy truth reward, With Grandeur, Gain, uafullied as the ray That gilds yon fky-topt dome in cloudless day; While fadd'ning damps and low-born vapours
The revels, pomp, and traffic of the town. Above dependance rais'd by gentle fate, Pity the flaves condemn'd to court the great, They bluth to own. The genuine great revere, Whofe high deferts adorn their stated sphere. Be thine deferts as high, the gen'rous aim From man to merit, not folicit, fame; Be thine the triumphs of a foul ferene, The fmile of Reason, and a golden mean. Be thine the praise of God: nor stoop to rail, If humbler projects of ambition fail.
"Friend, keep your Roman courtier still in fight; "Be civil, as your text, to cars polite. "Religion! wifdom! pfhaw-your fermon cloys: "A golden mean what modern wight enjoys?
For homefpun virtues ranfack hift'ry now: "Back to young Rome's Dictator, at the plough." From Fashion's taint and diffipation free, With fuch plain puts retir'd as **** and me, Shun random commerce, to refpect mankind. Keep found and strong thy native health of mind: The found fhall feek thee; few, indeed, but fuch, As need no caution to frequent too much; While fots and foplings fly thy facred thade, Nor Fortune's fools its halcyon ease invade.
Yet now the scene in diff'rent guife appears! All former traces, like a dream, are fled; Religion now a lib'ral aspect wears;
Now genuine Science lifts her tow'ring head. Devious how oft in tranquil mood I've ftray'd, WhereCherwell's placid ftream irriguous flows; Where Ifis, wand'ring thro' the dewy mcad, On the gay plains fertility beftows.
Oft have I view'd, immers'd in foothing thought, Uprear'd by ancient hands the maffy pile; The Gothic turret high, the Saxon vault,
The painted window, and the lengthen'd aile Achaian models too I've frequent trac'd,
Where genius blazes in the grand design; The structure with Corinthian columns grac'd, Where Attic tafte and harmony combine. Where the high roof attracts the studious eye,
Where num'rous tomes in claffic order lie, The roof with Bodley's rev'rend name infcrib'd;
And plenteous ftores of knowledge are imbib'd: How oft, well pleas'd, I've turn'd the varied pagė, My mind detach'd from ev'ry futile joy, From giddy vanities that life engage, Follies that vex, and forrows that annoy; Forgot each bufy care of active life,
Forgot the turmoils of the public fcene, Forgot all envy, pride, and jealous strife,
The ftarts of paffion, and the fits of spleen ! Adieu, ye groves, where erft I wont to roam, Where health attends the clear falubrious air;
§ 121. Effufions on quitting an Académic Life. Retirement left, I fcek a diff'rent home,
ADIEU, ye facred walls, ye lofty tow'rs,
Imperial Learning's venerable feats! Reluctant now I quit your peaceful bow'rs, Your happy manfions, and your lov'd retreats. Here keen-eyed Science plumes her daring wing; Vent'rous the here effays' her nobleft flights: Here, in each claffic grove, the Mufes fing,
And fill the mind with innocent delights. Grateful I venerate thofe honour'd names, Who patroniz'd fair Learning's infant caufe; Who nobly dar'd to vindicate her claims
To juft regard, diftinction, and applaufe. "Midft the illuftrious groupe an Alfred fhines; Alfred the juft, the virtuous, and the great; Whomingled with the wreath that conqueft twines The cares of fcience, and the toils of state. Tho' in these feats dim Superftition reign'd, Clouding cach mind, unnerving ev'ry heart; Tho' monkith fraud its empire here maintain'd, And wily priefts here play'd th' impoftor's part: Tho' here dull schoolmen vain debate purfued, And the free mind in abject fetters bound; Tho' with thin fophiftry, and jargon rude, All common fenfe they labour'd to confound:
And to the gay metropolis repair.
§ 122. Address to Senfibility.
MRS. YEARSLEY.
OH Senfibility! Thou bufy nurse
Thofe ferpents in the foul? their ftings more fell Of inj'ries once receiv'd, why wilt thou feed Than thofe which writh'd round Priam's prieftly fon;
I feel them here! They rend my panting breast; But I will tear them thence: ah! effort vain! Difturb'd they grow rapacious, while their fangs Strike at poor Memory; wounded the deplores Her ravifh'd joys, and murmurs o'er the past.
Why fhrinks my foul within thefe prifon walls, Where wretches fhake their chains? Ill-fated youth!
Why does thine eye run wildly o'er my form, Pointed with fond enquiry? 'Tis not me Thy reftlefs thought would find. The filent tear Afford thee refuge, I would bear thee hence Steals gently down his cheek: ah! could my arms To a more peaceful dwelling. Vain the with! Thy pow'rs are all unhing'd, and thou wouldst fit Infenfible to fympathy: farewel. Lainented being! ever loft to hope, I leave thee, yca despair myself of cure. *Bedlam.
For, oh, my bofom bleeds, while griefs like
Increase the recent pang. Penfive I rove, More wounded than the hart whofe fide yet holds The deadly arrow: Friendship, boast no more Thy hoard of joys, o'er which my foul oft hung, Like the too anxious mifer o'er his gold. My treasures all are wreck'd; I quit the fcene Where haughty Infult cut the facred ties Which long had held us. Cruel Julius! take My laft adieu. The wound thou gav'it is death, Nor canft e'en thou recal my frighted fenfe With Friendship's pleafing found; yet will I clafp Thy valued image to my aching mind, And viewing that, forgive thee; will deplore The blow that fever'd two congenial fouls! Officious Senfibility! 'tis thine To give the finest anguish, to diffolve The drofs of fpirit; till, all effence, the Refines on real woe; from thence extracts Sad unexifting phantoms, never feen.
Yet, dear ideal mourner, be thou near When on Lyfander's tears I filent gaze; Then, with thy viewlefs pencil, form his figh, His deepeft groan, his forrow-tinged thought, With immature, impatience, cold defpair, With all the tort'ring images that play, In fable hue, within his wafted mind.
And when this dreary group fhall meet my thought,
Oh! throw my pow'rs upon a fertile space, Where mingles ev'ry varied foft relief. Without thee, I could offer but the dregs
Of vulgar confolation; from her cup
He turns the eye, nor dare it foil his lip!
§ 123. Address to Indifference.
NDIFF'RENCE, come! thy torpid juices fhed
On my keen fenfe: plunge deep my wounded
In thickeft apathy, till it congeal,
Or mix with thee incorp'rate. Come, thou foe To fharp fenfation, in thy cold embrace A death-like flumber fhall a refpite give To my long reftlefs foul, toft on extreme, From blifs to pointed woe. O gentle Pow'r! Dear fubftitute of Patience! thou canst eafe The Soldier's toil, the gloomy Captive's chain, The Lover's anguish, and the Mifer's fear.
Proud Beauty will not own thee! her loud boaft Is Virtue-while thy chilling breath alone Blows o'er her foul, bidding her paflions fleep.
Miftaken caufe! the frozen Fair denies Thy faving influence. Virtue never lives But in the bofom ftruggling with its wound: There the fupports the conflict, there augments The pang of hopeless Love, the fenfeless stab Of gaudy Ign'rance, and more deeply drives The poifon 'd dart, hurl'd by the long-lov'd friend; Then pants with painful Victory. Bear me hence, Thou antidote to pain! thy real worth Mortals can never know. What's the vain boaft In her beft tranfports lives a latent fting, Of Senfibility but to be wretched ? Which wounds as they expire. On her high heights
Our fouls can never fit; the point fo nice, We quick fly off-fecure but in defcent.
To Senfibility, what is not blifs
Raife thou my friendly hand; mix thou the Is woe. No placid medium's ever held
More pure than ether, as ambrofia clear, Fit only for the four; thy chalice fill With drops of fympathy, which fwiftly fall From my afflicted heart: yet-yet beware, Nor ftoop to feize from Paflion's warmer cline A pois nous fweet-Bright cherub, fafely rove Thro' all the deep receffes of the foul ! Float on her raptures, deeper tinge her woes, Strengthen emotion, higher waft her figh, Sit in the tearful orb, and ardent gaze On joy or forrow. But thy empire ends Within the line of Spirit. My rough soul, Oh Senfibility! defencelefs hails
Thy feelings oft acute. Yet, ye who boast Of blifs I ne'er must reach, ye who can fix A rule for fentiment, if rules there are, (For much I doubt, my friends, if rule e'er held Capacious fentiment) ye fure can point My mind to joys that never touch'd the heart. What is this joy? Where does its effence reft? Ah! felf-confounding fophifts, will ye dare Pronounce that joy which never touch'd the heart? Does Education give the tranfport keen, Or fwell your vaunted grief? No, Nature feels Moft poignant, undefended; hails with me The Pow'rs of Senfibility untaught.
Beneath her torrid line, when ftraining high The fibres of the foul. Of Pain, or Joy, She gives too large a fhare; but thou, more kind, Wrapp'ft up the heart from both, and bidd'st it reft In ever-with'd-for cafe. By all the pow'rs Which move within the mind for different ends I'd rather lofe myself with thee, and share Thine happy indolence, for one fhort hour, Than live of Senfibility the tool
For endless ages. Oh! her points have pierc'd My foul, till like a fponge it drinks up woe.
Then leave me, Senfibility! be gone, Thou chequer'd angel! Seek the foul refin'd: I hate thee, and thy long progreffive brood Of joys and miferies. Soft Indiff'rence, come! In this low cottage thou fhalt be my guest, Till Death fhuts out the hour: here down I'll fink
With thee upon my couch of homely rush, Which fading forms of Friendfhip, Love, or Hope, Mu ne'er approach. Ah! quickly hide, the pow'r,
Thofe dear intruding images! Oh feal The lids of mental fight, left I abjure My freezing fupplication.-All is fill.
Idea fmother'd leaves my mind a waste, Where Senfibility muft lofe her prey.
§ 124. Morning; or, the Complaint. An Ame- rican Eclogue. GREGORY.
FAR from the favage bandit's fierce alarms, Or diftant din of horrid defpot's arms, Tho' Pennfylvania boafts her peaceful plain, Yet there in blood her petty tyrants reign.
With waving pines tho' vocal woods be crown'd, And ftream-fed vales with living wealth abound, To golden fields tho' ripening rays defcend, With blushing fruit tho' loaded branches bend; To thofe who ne'er muft freedom's bleffings tafte, 'Tis barren all, 'tis all a worthlefs wafte.
While hoarfe the cataract murmur'd on the gale, And chilling dews fwept through the murky dale; Along the hills the difinal tempeft howl'd, And lightnings flath'd,and deep the thunder roll'd; Beneath a leaflefs tree, ere morn arose, The flave Adala thus laments his woes,: Ye grifly fpectres, gather round my feat, From caves unbleft, that wretches groans repeat! Terrific forms, from mifty lakes arife! And bloody meteors threaten thro' the fkies! Oh curs'd deftroyers of our hapless race, Of human kind the terror and difgrace! Lo! hofts of dufky captives, to my view, Demand a deep revenge! demand their due! And frowning chiefs now dart athwart the gloom, And o'er the falt fea wave pronounce your doom: But Gods are juft, and oft the ftroke forbear, To plunge the guilty in tenfold despair.
Lift high the fcourge, my foul the rack difdains; I pant for freedom and my native plains! With limbs benumb'd my poor companions lie; Opprefs'd by pain and want the aged figh; Thro' reedy huts the driving tempeft pours, Their feftering wounds receive the fickly show'rs; In mad'ning draughts our lords their fenfes steep, And doom their flaves to ftripes and death in fleep: Now, while the bitter blaft furrounds my head, To times long paft my restless foul is led, Far, far beyond the azure hills, to groves Of ruddy fruit, where beauty fearless roves― O blifsful feats! O felf-approving joys! Nature's plain dictates! ignorance of vice! O guiltless hours! Our cares and wants were few,
No arts of luxury or deceit we knew. Our labour, fport-to tend our cottage care, Or from the palm the luscious juice prepare; To fit indulging love's delufive dream, And fnare the filver tenants of the stream; Or (nobler toil!) to aim the deadly blow With dext'rous art against the fpotted foe; O days with youthful daring mark'd! 'twas then I dragg'd the fhaggy monster from his den, And boldly down the rocky mountain's fide, Hurl'd the grim panther in the foaming tide. Our healthful fports a daily feaft afford, And even ftill found us at the focial board.
Can I forget, ah me! the fatal day, When half the vale of peace was fwept away!
Th'affrighted maids in vain the gods implore, And weeping view from far the happy fhore; The frantic dames impatient ruffians feize, And infants fhriek, and clafp their mothers knees; With galling fetters foon their limbs are bound, And groans throughout the noifome bark refound. Why was I bound! why did not Whydah fee Adala gain or death or victory! No ftorms arife, no waves revengeful roar, To dafh the monsters on our injur'd fhore. Long o'er the foaming deep to worlds unknown, By envious winds the bulky veffel's blown, While by disease and chains the weak expire, Or parch'd endure the flow confuming fire. Who'd in this land of many forrows live, Where death's the only comfort tyrants give? Tyrants unbicit! Each proud of ftrict command, Nor age not fickness holds the iron hand; Whofe hearts, in adamant involv'd, despise The drooping female's tears, the infant's cries, Fromwhofe ftern brows no grateful look e'er beams, Whofe blufhiefs front nor rape nor murder fhames.
Nor all I blame; for Naftal, friend to peace, Thro' his wide paftures bids oppreffion cease *; No drivers goad, no galling fetters bind, Nor ftern compulfion damps th' exalted mind. There ftrong Arcona's fated to enjoy Domeftic fweets, and rear his progeny ; To till his glebe employs Arcona's care, To Naftal's God he nightly makes his pray'r; His mind at cafe, of Chriftian truths he'll boaft- He has no wife, no lovely offspring loft. Gay his favannah blooms, while mine appears Cheerful his hearth in chilling winter burns, Scorch'd up with heat, or moift with blood and tears. While to the ftorm the fad Adala mourns.
Lift high the fcourge, my foul the rack difdains; I pant for freedom and my native plains! Shall I his holy prophet's aid implore, And wait for justice on another fhore ? Or, rufhing down yon mountain's craggy steep, End all my forrows in the fullen deep? A cliff there hangs in yon grey morning cloud, The dafhing wave beneath roars harsh and loud- But doubts and fears involve my anxious mind, The gulf of death once pafs'd, what shore we find. Dubious, if fent beyond th' expanded main, This foul fhall feck its native realms again: Or if in gloomy miíts condemn'd to lie, Beyond the limits of yon arching fky. A better profpect oft my spirit cheers, And in my dreams the vale of peace appears, And flecting vifions of my former life: My hoary fire I clafp, my long-loft wife, And oft 1 kifs my gentle babes in fleep, Till with the founding whip I'm wak'd to weep.
Lifthigh the fcourge,my foul the rack difdains; I pant for freedom and my native plains! Chiefs of the earth, and monarchs of the sea, Who vaunt your hardy ancestors were free;
* The Quakers in America have fet free all their Negroes, and allow them wages as other fervants.
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