Imatges de pàgina
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$35. Meiab, a Sacred Eclogue. POPE. YE Nymphs of Solyma! begin the fong:

To heavenly themes fublimer ftrains belong.
The molly fountains and the fylvan fhades,
The dreams of Pindus and th' Aonian maids,
Delight no more.-) Thou my voice inspire,
Who touch'd Ifaiah's hallow'd lips with fire!
Rapt into future times, the bard begun :,
A Virgin fhall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son !
From Jeffe's root behold a branch arife,
Whole facred flow'r with fragance fills the skies:
Th'ethereal fpirit o'er its leaves fhall move,
And on its top defcends the myftic Dove.
Ye heav'ns! from high the dewy nectar pour,
And in foft filence fhed the kindly fhow'r!
The fick and weak the healing plant fhall aid,
From ftorms a fhelter, and from heat a shade.
All crimes fhall ceafe, and antient fraud fhall fail,
Returning Juftice lift aloft her fcale;
Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
And white-rob'd Innocence from heav'n defcend.
Swift fly the years, and rife th' expected morn!
Oh fpring to light, aufpicious Babe, be born!
See Nature haftes her earlieft wreaths to bring,
With all the incenfe of the breathing spring:
See lofty Lebanon his head advance,
Senodding forefts on the mountains dance;
See fpicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,
And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the skies!
Hark! a glad voice the lonely defert cheers ;
Prepare the way! a God, a God appears!
A God, a God! the vocal hills reply:
The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity.
Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies!
Sak down, ye mountains, and, ye vallies, rife!
With heads declin'd, ye cedars, homage pay;
Be fimooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way
The Saviour comes! by antient bards foretold;
Hear him, ye deaf and, all ye blind, behold
He from thick films fhall purge the vifual ray,
And on the fightlefs eye-ball pour the day:
'Tis he th' obftructed paths of found fhall clear,
And bid new mufic charm th' unfolding ear;
The dumb fhall fing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting like the bounding roe.

figh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear;
From ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear.
Ia adamantine chains fhall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
As the good thepherd tends his fleecy care,
Secks freshest pasture, and the purest air,
Explores the loft, the wand'ring fheep directs,
By day o'erfees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs he raifes in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bofom warms:
Thus fhall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promis'd father of the future age.
No more fhail nation against nation rife,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
Nor fields with gleaming feel be cover'd o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindie rage no more;
Brufelefs lances into fcythes fhall bend,
And the broad faulchion in a plough-share end.

Then palaces fhall rife; the joyful fon
Shall finish what his fhort-liv'd fire begun:
Their vines a fhadow to their race fhall vield,
And the fame hand that fow'd fhall reap the field
The fwain in barren deferts, with furprife,
Sees lilies fpring, and fudden verdure rife;
And starts, amidst the thirty wilds, to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrufh nods.
Wafte fandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn,
The fpiry tir and thapely box adorn;

To leaflefs fhrubs the flow'ring palms fucceed,
And od❜rous myrtle to the ncifome weed. [mead,
The lambs with wolves fhall graze the verdant
And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead;
The fteer and lion at one crib fhall meet,
And harmless ferpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The finiling infant in his hand fhall take
The crefted bafilifk and speckled fnake,
Pleas'd the green luftre of their scales furvey,
And with their forky tongue fhall innocently play.
Rife, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rife!
Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes!
Sce a long race thy fpacious courts adorn;
See future fons and daughters, yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on ev'ry fide arife,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
Sce barb'rous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
See thy bright altars throng'd with proftrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabaan fprings!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
And feeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heav'n its parkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day.
No more the rifing Sun fhall gild the morn,
Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her filver horn,
But loft, diffolv'd in thy fuperior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
The feas fhall wafte, the fkies in fmoke decay,
Rocks fall to duft, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd his word, his faving pow'r remains:
Thy realm for ever lafts, thy own Mefliah reigns !

§ 36. The Prize of Virtue. POPE.

WHAT nothing earthly gives or can destroy,
The foul's calm funthine, and the heart-felt
joy,

Is Virtue's prize: a better would you fix?
Then give Humility a coach and fix;
Juftice a conqu'ror's fword, or Truth a gown,
Or Public Spirit its great cure, a crown.
Weak, foolish Man! will Heav'n reward us there
With the fame trash mad mortals with for here?
The boy and man an individual makes,
Yet fight thou now for apples and for cakes?
Go, like the Indian, in another life
Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife!
As well as dream fuch trifles are aflign'd,
As toys and empires for a godlike mind;

C 3

Reward

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Rewards, that either would to virtue bring
No joy. or be deftructive of the thing:
How oft by thefe at fixty are undone
The virtues of a faint at twenty-one !

To whom can riches give tepute, or truft,
Content, or pleasure, but the good and just ?
Judges and fenates have been bought for gold;
Efteem and love were never to be fold.

Oh fool to think God hates the worthy mind,
The lover, and the love of human kind,
Whofe life is heathful, and whofe confcience clear,
Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.

§37. An Elegy, written in a Country Church

THE

Yard. GRAY.

HE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds flowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to dark nefs and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the fight,
And all the air a folemn ftillnefs holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the diftant folds;
Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r,
The moping owl does to the Moon complain
Of fuch, as wand'ring near her fecret bow'r,
Moleft her ancient folitary reign.

Beneath thofe rugged elms, that yew-tree's fhade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, [heap,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep.
The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn, [thed,
The fwallow, twitt'ring from the straw-built
The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more fhall roufe them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth fhall burn,
Or bufy housewife ply her evening care:
Nor children run to lifp their fire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kifs to fhare.
Oft did the harvest to their fickle yield;

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their teams afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy Stroke;

Let not ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and deftiny obfcure;
Nor grandeur hear with a difdainful fimile

The thort and fimple annals of the poor.
The boaft of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await, alike, th' inevitable hour;

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,

If mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raife, Where thro' the long-drawn ifle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem fwells the note of praise. Can ftoried urn, or animated bust,

Back to its manfion call the flecting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the filent duft,

Or Flatt'ry footh the dull cold ear of death?

Perhaps in this neglected fpot is laid

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire:
Hands, that the rod of empire might have fway'd,
Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unroll
Chill Penury reprefs'd their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem, of pureft ray ferene,

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear.

Full many a flow'r is born to blush unfeen,

And wafte its fweetnefs on the defert air.

Somelvillage-Hampden, that with dauntless breaft
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may reft;
Some Cromwell guiltlefs of his country's blood.
Th' applaufe of lift'ning fenates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To fcatter plenty o'er a finiling land,

And read their history in a nation's eyes.
Their lot forbade: nor circumfcrib'd alone [fin'd;
Their growing virtues, but their crimes con-
Forbade to wade through flaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous fhame,
Or heap the thrine of Luxury and Pride
With incenfe kindled at the Mufe's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble ftrife
Their fober withes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool fequefter'd vale of life

They kept the noifelefs tenor of their way
Yet ev'n thefe bones from infult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhimes and fhapeless fculpture
Implores the paffing tribute of a figh. [deck'd,
Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd

The place of fame and elegy fupply: [mufe,
And many a holy text around she strews,

That teach the ruftic moralift to die.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,

This pleafing anxious being e'er refign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor caft one longing, lingering, look behind?
On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies,

Some pious drops the clofing eye requires :
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Ev'n in our afhes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Doft in thefe lines their artlefs tale relate;
If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit fhall inquire thy fate,
Haply fome hoary-headed fwain may say,
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn,
Brufhing with hafty steps, the dews away,
To meet the fun upon the upland lawn.
There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,

That wreathes its old fantaftic roots fo high,
His liftlef's length at noon-tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.

I

Hard

Hard by yond wood, now fimiling, as in fcorn,
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or craz❜d with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
One morn I mifs'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:
Another came; nor yet befide the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
The next, with dirges due, in fad array, [borne
Slow thro' the church-yard path we faw him
Approach and read (for thou canft read) the lay,
Grav'd on the ftone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPITAPH.

Here refts his head upon the lap of carth,

At broad noon-day. These, and a thousand more,
Horrid to tell, attentive wait; and, when
ByHeav'n's command Death waves his ebon wand,
Sudden rush forth to execute his purpose,
And fcatter defolation o'er the Earth.

Ill-fated Man, for whom fuch various forms
Of mis'ry wait, and mark their future prey!
Ah! why, all-righteous Father, didft thou make
This creature, Man? why wake th'unconscious
To life and wretchednefs? O better far [duft
Still had he slept in uncreated night,
If this the lot of Being! Was it for this
Thy breath divine kindled within his breast
The vital flame? For this was thy fair image
Stampt on his foul in godlike lineaments?
For this dominion giv'n him abfolute
O'er all thy works, only that he might reign
Supreme in woe? From the bleft fource of Good
Could Pain and Death proceed Could fuch foul ills
Fall from fair Mercy's hands? Far be the thought,
The impious thought! God never made a creature

A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown;
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompenfe as largely fend:
He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear; [a friend.
He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he with'd)But what was good. He made a living Soul;
No farther feek his merits to difclofe,

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I woo thee, Death! In fancy's fairy paths
Let the gay fongfter rove, and gently trill
The ftrain of empty joy. Life and its joys
I leave to those that prize them. At this hour,
This folemn hour, when filence rules the world,
And wearied nature makes a gen'ral pause;
Wrapt in night's fable robe, through cloyfters
And charnels pale, tenanted by a throng [drear
Of meagre phantoms fhooting crofs my path
With filent glance, I feek the fhadowy vale
Of Death. Deep in a murky cave's recefs,
Lav'd by Oblivion's liftlefs ftream, and fenc'd
By fhelving rocks, and intermingled horrors
Of yew and cyprefs fhade, from all intrufion
Of bufy noontide beam, the Monarch fits
In unfubftantial majefty enthron'd.
At his right hand, nearest himself in place
And frightfulness of form, his parent Sin
With fatal induftry and cruel care
Bufies herself in pointing all his ftrings,
And tipping every fhaft with venom drawn
From her infernal store: around him rang'd
In terrible array, and mixture strange
Of uncouth fhapes, stand his dread Ministers.
Foremoft Old Age, his natural ally

And firmest friend: next him Difcafes thick,
A motley train; Fever, with check of fire;
Confumption wan; Palfy, half warm with life,
And half a clay-clod lump; joint-tort'ring Gout,
And ever-gnawing Rheum; Convulfion wild;
Swoln Dropfy; panting Afthma; Apoplex
Full-gorg'd. There too the Peftilence that walks
In darkness, and the Sickness that destroys

The wretched Mortal was the work of Man.
Forth from his Maker's hands he fprung to life,
Fresh with immortal bloom; no pain he knew,
No fear of change, no check to his defires, [ftood
Save one command. That one command, which
"Twixt him and Death, the test of his obedience,
Urg'd on by wanton curiofity,

He broke. There in one moment was undone

The fairest of God's works. The fame rath hand,
That pluck'd in evil hour the fatal fruit,
Unbarr'd the gates of Hell, and let loose Sin
And Death, and all the family of Pain,
To prey upon Mankind. Young Nature faw
The monstrous crew, and shook thro' all her frame,
Then fled her new-born luftre, then began
Heaven's cheerful face to low'r, then vapours
choak’d

The troubled air, and form'd a veil of clouds
To hide the willing Sun. The earth convuls'd
With painful throes threw forth a briftly crop
Of thorns and briars; and Infect, Bird, and Beaft,
That wont before with admiration fond
To gaze at Man, and fearless crowd around him,
Now fled before his face, fhunning in hafte
Th'-infection of his mifery. He alone
Who juftly might, th' offended Lord of Man,
Turn'd not away his face; he, full of pity,
Forfook not in this uttermoft diftrefs
His beft lov'd work. That com fort still remain'd
(That beft, that greatest comfort in affliction)
The countenance of God, and thro' the gloom
Shot forth fome kindly gleams, to cheer and warm
Th' offender's finking foul. Hope fent from Heav'n
Uprais'd his drooping head, and fhew'd afar
A happier fcene of things; the Promis'd Seed
Trampling upon the Serpent's humbled creft;
Death of his fting difarm'd; and the dark grave,
Made pervious to the realms of endless day,
No more the limit but the gate of life. [ground,

Cheer'd with the view, Man went to till the
From whence he rofe; fentenc'd indeed to toil
As to a punishment, yet (ev'n in wrath,

So merciful is Heav'n) this toil became
The folace of his woes, the fweet employ
Of t
f many a live-long hour, and fureft guard
Against Difcafe and Death. Death,tho' denounc'd,
Was yet a distant ill, by feeble arm
Of Age, his fole fupport, led flowly on.

Not then, as fince, the fhort-liv'd fons of men
Flock'd to his realms in countless multitudes;
Scarce in the courfe of twice five hundred years,
One folitary ghost went shiv'ring down
To his unpeopled fhore. In sober state,
Through the fequefter'd vale of rural life,
The venerable Patriarch guilelefs held
The tenor of his way; Labour prepar'd
His fimple fare, and Temp'rance rul'd his board.
Tir'd with his daily toil, at carly eve
He funk to fudden reft; gentle and pure
As breath of evening Zephyr, and as fweet,
Were all his flumbers; with the Sun he rofe,
Alert and vigorous as He, to run [ftrength
His deftin'd courfe. Thus nerv'd with giant
He ftemm'd the tide of time, and stood the shock
Of ages rolling harmless o'er his head.
At life's meridian point arriv'd, he stood,
And, looking round, faw all the valleys fill'd
With nations from his loins; full-well content
To leave his race thus fcatter'd o'er the earth,
Along the gentle flope of life's decline
He bent his gradual way, till, full of years,
He dropp'd like mellow fruit into his grave.
Such in the infaucy of Time was Man;
So calm was life, fo impotent was Death!
O had he but preferv'd thefe few remains,
The fhatter'd fragments, of loft happiness,
Snatch'd by the hand of Heav'n from the fad wreck
Of innocence primaval; still had he liv'd
In ruin great; tho' fall'n, yet not forlorn;
Though mortal, yet not every where befet
With Death in every thape! But he, impatient
To be completely wretched, haftes to fill up
The measure of his woes. 'Twas Man hinfelf
Brought Death into the world; and Man hinfelf
Gave keenness to his darts, quicken'd his pace,
And multiply'd deftruction on mankind.

First Envy, eldest born of Hell, embrued
Her hands in blood, and taught the Sons of Men
To make a Death which Nature never made,
And God abhorr'd; with violence rude to break
The thread of life ere half its length was run,
And rob a wretched brother of his being.
With joy Ambition faw, and foon improv'd
The execrable deed. 'Twas not enough
By fubtle fraud to fnatch a fingle life,
Puny impiety whole kingdoms feil
To fate the luft of power: more horrid still,
The fouleft ftain and fcandal of our nature,
Became its boaft. One Murder made a Villain;
Millions a Hero. Princes were privileg'd
To kill, and numbers fanctified the crime.
Ah! why will Kings forget that they are Men ?
And Men that they are brethren? Why delight
In human facrifice? Why burst the ties
Of Nature, that thould knit their fouls together
In one foft bond of amnity and love?

Yet ftill they breathe deftruction, still go on
Inhumanly ingenious to find out
New pains for life, new terrors for the grave,
Artificers of Death! Still Monarchs dream
Of univerfal empire growing up
From univerfal ruin. Blaft the defign
Great God of Hofts, nor let thy creatures fall
Unpitied victims at Ambition's fhrine!

Yet fay, fhould Tyrants learn at laft to feel,
And the loud din of battle cease to bray;
Should dove-eyed Peace o'er all the earth extend
Her olive branch, and give the world repofe,
Would Death be foil'd? Would health, and
ftrength, and youth

Defy his pow'r Has he no arts in ftore,
No other hafts fave thofe of war? Alas!
Ev'n in the fmile of Peace, that smile which sheds
A heav'nly funfhine o'er the foul, there basks
That ferpent Luxury: War its thoufands flays;
Peace its ten thoufands. In th' embattled plain,
Tho' Death exults, and claps his raven wings,
| Yet reigns he not ev'n there fo abfolute,
So merciless, as in yon frantic fcenes
Of midnight revel and tumultuous mirth,
Where in th' intoxicating draught conceal'd,
Or couch'd beneath the glance of lawless love,
Hefnares the fimple youth,who nought suspecting,
Means to be bleft-but finds himself undone.

Down the fmooth ftream of life the stripling darts,
Gay as the morn; bright glows the vernal sky,
Hope fwells his fails, and paffion fteers his courfe,
Safe glides his little bark along the shore
Where virtue takes her ftand; but if too far
He launches forth beyond discretion's mark,
Sudden the tempeft fcowls, the furges roar,
Blot his fair day, and plunge him in the deep.
O fad but fure mifchance! O happier far
To lie like gallant Howe 'midft Indian wilds
A breathlefs corfe, cut off by favage hands
In earliest prime, a generous facrifice
To freedom's holy caufe; than so to fall,
Torn immature from life's meridian joys,
A prey to Vice, Intemp'rance, and Dileafe.

Yet die ev'n thus, thus rather perish still,
Ye fons of Pleasure, by th'Almighty strick'n,
Than ever dare (though oft, alas! ye dare)
To lift against yourfelves the murd 'rous fteel,
To wreft from God's own hand the fword of
Juftice,

And be your own avengers! Hold, rash Man,
Though with anticipating speed thou 'ft rang'd
Through every region of delight, nor left
One joy to gild the evening of thy days;
Though life feem one uncomfortable void,
Guilt at thy heels, before thy face defpair;
Yet gay this fcene, and light this load of woe,
Compar'd with thy hereafter. Think, O think,
And, ere thou plunge into the vast abyss,
Paufe on the verge a while: look down and fee
Thy future maniion. Why that start of horror
From thy flack hand why drops th’uplifted steel?
Didit thou not think fuch vengeance muft await
The wretch, that with his crimes all fresh about
Ruthes irreverent, unprepar'd, uncall'd, [him

Into his Maker's prefence, throwing back
With infolent difdain his choiceft gift?
Live then, while Heav'n in pity lends thee life,
And think it all too short to wash away,
By penitential tears and deep contrition,
The fearlet of thy crimes. So fhalt thou find
Reft to thy foul, fo unappall'd shalt meet
Death when he comes, nbt wantonly invite
His ling ring ftroke. Be it thy fole concern
With innocence to live: with patience wait
Th'appointed hour; too foon that hour will come,
Tho Nature run her courfe. But Nature's God,
If need require, by thousand various ways,
Without thy aid, can shorten that short span,
Aad quench the lamp of life. O when he comes,
Rous'd by the cry of wickedness extreme,
To Heav'n afcending from fome guilty land,
Now ripe for vengeance; when he comes array'd
la all the terrors of Almighty wrath,
Forth from his bofom plucks his ling'ring arm,
And on the miscreants pours destruction down;
Who can abide his coming? Who can bear
His whole difpleasure? In no common form
Death then appears, but ftarting into fize
Enormous, meatures with gigantic stride
Th' aftonith'd Earth, and from his looks throws
Unutterable horror and difinay.

[round

All Nature lends her aid. Each Element
Arms in his caufe. Ope fly the doors of Heav'n;
The fountains of the deep their barriers break;
Above, below, the rival torrents pour,
And drown Creation; or in floods of fire
Defcends a livid cataract, and confumes
Animpious race. Sometimes, when all feems peace,
Wakes the grim whirlwind, andwith rude embrace
Sweeps nations to their grave, or in the deep
Whelms the proud wooden world; full many a
Floats on his watʼry bier, or lies unwept [youth
On fome fad defert fhore! At dead of night,
In fullen filence stalks forth Peftilence :
Contagion close behind taints all her steps
With pois nous dew; no fmiting hand is feen,
No found is heard, but foon her fecret path
Is mark'd with defolation; heaps on heaps
Promifcuous drop. No friend, no refuge, near;
All, all, is falfe and treacherous around;
All that they touch, or taste, or breathe, is Death.
But ah! what means that ruinous roar? why fail
Thefe tott'ring feet Earth to its centre feels
The Godhead's power, and trembling at his touch
Through all its pillars, and in ev'ry porc,
Hurls to the ground, with one convulfive heave,
Precipitating domes, and towns, and tow'rs,
The work of ages. Crush'd beneath the weight
Of gen'ral devaftation, millions find
One common grave; not ev'n a widow left
To wail her fons: the houfe, that should protect,
Entombs its mafter; and the faithlefs plain,
If there he flies for help, with fudden yawn
Starts from beneath him. Shield me, gracious

Heav'n,

Ofnatch ine from deftruction! If this Globe, This folid Globe, which thine own hand hath made So firm and fure, if this my steps betray i

If my own mother Earth, from whence I sprung,
Rife up with rage unnatural to devour
Her wretched offspring, whither fhall I fly?
Where look for fuccour? Where, but up to thee,
Almighty Father? Save, O fave, thy fuppliant
From horrors fuch as these ! At thy good time
Let Death approach; I reck not-let him but come
In genuine form, not with thy vengeance arm'd,
Too much for man too bear. O rather lend
Thy kindly aid to mitigate his ftroke;
And at that hour when all aghaft I ftand
(A trembling candidate for thy compation)
On this World's brink, and look into the next;
When my foul, starting from the dark unknown,
Cafts back a withful look, and fondly clings
To her frail prop, unwilling to be wrench'd
From this fair fcene, from all her custom'd joys,
And all the lovely relatives of life;
Then shed thy comforts o'er me, then put on
The gentleft of thy looks. Let no dark crimes,
In all their hideous forms then starting up,
Plant themselves round my couch in grim array,
And ftab my bleeding heart with two-edg'd tor

ture,

Senfe of paft guilt, and dread of future woe.
Far be the ghaftly crew! And in their ftead
Let cheerful Memory from her pureft cells
Lead forth a goodly train of Virtues fair,
Cherifh'd in earliest youth, now paying back
With tenfold ufury the pious care,
And pouring o'er my wounds the heav'nly balm
Of conscious innocence. But chiefly, Thou,
Whom foft-eyed Pity once led down from Heav'n
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! ftill harder leffon! how to die;
Difdain not Thou to smooth the restless bed
Of Sickness and of Pain. Forgive the tear
That feeble Nature drops, calm all her fears,
Wake all her hopes, and animate her faith,
Till my rapt Soul, anticipating Heav'n,
Burfts from the thraldom of incumb'ring clay,
And on the wing of Ecftafy upborne,
Springs into Liberty, and Light, and Life.

$39. The Grave. BLAIR.
The house appointed for all living. Joz.

fhade,

WHILST fome affect the fun, and some the
Some flee the city, fome the hermitage,
Their aims as various as the roads they take
In journeying through life; the task be mine
To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb;
Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all
Thefe trav'llers meet. Thy fuccours I implore,
Eternal King! whofe potent arm fuftains
The keys of hell and death. The Grave, dread
thing!

Men fhiver when thou'rt nam'd: Nature appall'd
Shakes off her wonted firmness. Ah! how dark
Thy long-extended realms, and rueful wastes;
Where nought but filence reigns, and night, dark
Dark as was Chaos ere the infant Sun [night,
Was roll'd together, or had tried its beans
Athwart

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