University of Virginia Library

The great Creator, pow'rful—wise—and good!
Not only caters all His Creatures' food,
But every kind convenience, prompt, supplies;
As varied wants, and varied wishes, rise!
Not only gives enough for every need,
But, by His bounteous Providence decreed,
Abundant stores to furnish full delight
For each proud wish, and wayward Appetite.
With self-preserving pow'r, full knowledge yields,
To all that swim the floods, or swarm the fields;
That wing the air for food, or wanton flight,
Or dig the soil, to shun the dangerous light.
His tender kindness condescends to teach
Strong fears, and forecast, best befitting each.
The meanest Animal instinctive, knows,
By sundry signs, its Lovers, Friends, and Foes.
The pow'r of speech allotted Man, alone,
By tuneful feebleness, or fuller tone,
To every calm, instructed, ear conveys
His wish, or will, in ever-varying ways;
Yet tho' he ever vary sounds, and signs,
Each secret sentiment deep skill defines.
Ev'n all refus'd instructive tones of voice
Declare, by clearest proofs, dislike, or choice—
For, where that wonderous faculty's witheld,
By looks, and acts, is needful knowledge spell'd.
To some, still lower, tho' providential dow'r
Imparts no knowledge vouch'd by visual pow'r,
To them no necessary aid's denied;
All useful hints by test of touch supplied.

The Worm's quick slide and wretched writhing, show
Shrewd signs of danger, and deep sense of woe.
Devoid of nobler blessings, deaf, and blind,
With single Sense possess'd, of humblest kind,
Sufficient just to feel the mining Mole
Convulse the earth, around its hiding hole,
Or stirring tool, whose imitating force,
Disturbs his toil in subterranean course—
By love of life, and fear of instant wrong,
Driven from his den, he nimbly glides along.

With forceps, arm'd, and well-accoutred mail,
An insect, small, I've seen such wretch assail,
Whilst the weak wriggling reptile, pinch'd with pain
With strange contortions twist itself in twain—
Then, with dread haste, in wild endeavours, hies,
From the shrewd foe, inferior far in size;
Who, with prompt speed, and renovated rage,
In close encounter dar'd again engage;
Again, apart, 'mid strong convulsions tears
And, from the mangled frame, in triumph bears;
Twice to the fierce assailant forc'd to yield,
His length half left upon the hostile field!

So have I seen the Beetle prowl for prey
And mark'd, when Caterpillar cross'd his way,
Tho' shaggy coat, of stiffen'd fur, defend,
His proud superior bulk of body rend;
And, tho' the dubious conflict, fierce, and strong,
With muscular exertion, lasted long,
While grappling on the green-field's grassy floor,
The combatants oft tumbling o'er and o'er;
At length beheld the bristly warrior, slain,
Spread his gross garbage on the battled plain!

Slow, timid Snails their slimey track besmear,
To stay, or turn, some swifter Foe's career;
Alternately protruding horn and eye,
Explore their path—each bordering object try—
Well-taught to watch and ward their little weal,
Imperfect see, but exquisitely feel;
When casual cause gives sight or touch, offence,
Instinctively withdraw their double Sense.

Beneath kind shelt'ring shrub's protecting spray
To shun the show'rs, and wait a warmer day
The scarlet Hemispheria fondly clings,
And shuts her shielding, sable-spotted, wings;
Her tenderer pinions careful to protect,
Which needs must perish through her weak neglect;
And leave her to lament all pow'r to fly,
When vernal sunshine warms the Earth and Sky.
Firm to the bark, by golden gluten, knit,
Which elbow'd limbs thro' manag'd joints, emit,
While shelving shoots the rainy rills divide,
And turn their little streams on either side.

The Bee, well-skill'd to trace her trackless road,
Warn'd to return with half her wonted load,
And homeward speed to shun the shadowy plain,
Predicting ruin from impending rain;
Leaves all the fragrant fields, and blushing bow'rs,
With countless undrain'd cups of honey'd flow'rs.

In drooping bank the Dormouse builds his dome,
With leaves and grass bedding his brumal home—
There closeted, secure, needs no repasts
While Winter's cold, inclement, season lasts;
But closely coil'd, on mossy mattrass, warm,
Defies the frosts, and sleeps thro' every storm.

With keen sagacity, the Squirrel knows,
When plucking bunches from the hazle boughs,
As balanc'd cluster's, poised with nimble paws,
By Instinct's unsophisticated laws,
Each nut's intrinsic value nicely tells,
Nor wastes lost labours on unkernell'd shells.
Then might not Man with his superior pow'rs
Discern the weight and worth of Body's dow'rs?
Might he not, balance all God's gifts, below,
Their nett, or visionary, value, know?
Might he not know, with more, than Squirrel's skill,
By wise experience, how to poise his Will?
He might, were Mind not sluggish, or absurd,
But well-enlightened with Heav'n's holy Word.
—Might he not sleep, by exercising Sense,
More safe than Dormice by trusting Providence?
He surely could were Conscience freed from Sin,
And Faith kept calm his faculties within.
—Might not his natural Knowledge fence, or flee,
More sure from ill than Beetle, Grub, or Bee;
His Pride, or Passions, help him to eschew
Snares, more than Snails which crawl in dust, and dew,
Or Wit and Wisdom teach him better terms
To shun both woe and mischief more than Worms?
He always will when Grace and Reason guide,
And quell the carnal Spirits, Lust and Pride;
Directs its Duties—regulate its Love—
And lift its likings tow'ds the bliss above!

God's providential Goodness never fails,
The eyeless, earless, Worms, and limbless Snails,
Beetle caparison'd with boney wings—
Bees blest with foresight and defensive stings—
Mean Quadrupedes which form a safe retreat,
Or note with nice distinction moral meat.

Can Reptiles, thus instructed, feel a foe,
And groping, blindly, 'scape impending woe?
Insects, directed, with consummate Sense,
Fly safe from harm, or fight in Self-defence?
Are puny Mice thus taught to 'scape the plain,
Preventing all approach of want and pain?
Are frisky Squirrels, ev'n in starving mood,
Instructed to appreciate proper food?
Shall Fish escape their enemies by flight
When singly aided by the gift of sight?
Birds, better furnish'd with a finer ear,
Distinctly judge when jeopardy is near?
And Beasts with penetrating pow'rs, innate
Explore each spring of comfort, pain, or fate?
Shall each mute Being, with mere Senses blest,
Be taught such Knowledge, by supreme behest?
By Intuition's never-varying laws,
Infer effects, yet ne'er conceive the Cause?
Perceive what sights, and sounds, and actions, tend
To further good, or generate evil, end?
And shall not Man, with all God's gifts combin'd,
Each Sense of Animals, with Angel's Mind—
Indulg'd with each inferior creature's dow'rs
Of social impulse, and of active pow'rs—
With nobler attribue of Reason, stor'd,
Whence Conscience feels her force, and Heav'n's ador'd!
Disclosing all the Soul transacts within,
By heavenly rules of right, or tests of Sin!
And shall not He, with all this added light,
Surpass the Reptile's feel, and Fishes' sight?
Discover danger, and discern his good,
Better than habitants of air, or wood?
Doth Heav'n from Him the faculties withold
Bestow'd on thoughtless things of humbler mould?
He walks, spontaneous—leaps—and swims—yea, flees—
Builds better, far, than Beavers—Birds—or Bees—
Procures, by skill, his multifarious food—
Feeds—clothes—protects—Himself—and callow Brood—
Makes Animals, beneath, moult, strip, and die,
For Fancy's—Passion's—Pride's and Lust's, supply—
As well accommodates what Spirit needs,
As builds, and furnishes, and clothes, and feeds.
Makes prey of all that Earth, and Seas, produce,
For strength—health—pastime—ornament—or use—
Yet still vext more, with wants, and woes, than all
That breathe beside round this terraqueous ball.
Fears more, and feels, in such sublimer Mind,
From fellow-foes, than all the Creature kind.

With impish Inquisition, Bird, nor Beast,
E'er torture, only tear, their offer'd feast.
Seize, instant, craving appetites to cloy,
Not to excruciate with a cruel joy.
Tho' Cats torment, 'tis simply self-delight;
Not malice meant, or persecuting spite.
Our Fury Race alone perverts Heav'n's plan,
Seduc'd, degraded Man, still torturing Man!
The Song Bird kill—destroy each bestial Breed,
Much more for pastime than to clothe, and feed—
The softer Sex, indulging desperate spleen,
With virulence convulse Earth's wo'ful scene!
As weaker Woman first transgress'd and fell,
Her female offspring's breasts still most rebel!
By Sin grown savage, barbarous pleasure seek,
By marks of misery on a Sister's cheek!
Enjoy, like sunshine, Innocence's shame,
When Hate, or Envy, light infernal flame!
Find sweetest Music in sore Misery's moan!
Feel raptures grow from fellow-females' groan!
Delighted, laugh o'er deeply sobbing sighs,
And bathe, with bliss, in Sorrow's cistern'd eyes!

What! then, shall modest Worth no wisdom learn?
Ne'er a proud Despot's hate, or envy, spurn?
Against a Tyrant's intrigues never strive,
But still at Cunning's constant tricks connive!
Still suffer Fraud and Force, in Friendship's shape,
Nor e'er from Persecution's paws escape?
Still tremble at bold Arrogance's airs?
Still more, entwin'd in hypocritic snares?
Poor human Elves be more defenceless found
Than all their sublunary subjects round?
Obnoxious dupes to sly Dissembler's arts?
The ready prey of deep-designing Parts?
Unskilful in decyphering clearest signs
Each dull domestic Animal defines?
With all their education scarce descry
The speaking language of the printed Eye?
Ne'er know the types? the styles of Nature trace?
Plain hieroglyphics, graven o'er the Face!
The cypher'd noughts, and integers ne'er count?
Arrange them right, and note their nett amount?
Ne'er genuine touchstone try seducing smiles,
And separate grains of gold from heaps of foils?

It cannot be but Fortitude will feel
And arm her face with flint, her heart with steel!
Nor can it be but sage Discernment, soon,
Will note when tones are in, or out, of tune.
No artful sounds of Simulation, long,
Like Truth's mild melody can trill the tongue!
Art's mimic modulation shows Deceit—
The tutor'd ear soon tires with dull repeat.
Soon the smooth Syren vends her smiles in vain,
Not long her chaunting cheats, with studied strain,
Not bland Hypocrisy's deceitful brood
Can Heav'n-instructed Christian long delude.
Not long her base designs Religion brooks
But loaths the lulling lays, and luring looks.

In April hours, combin'd with objects bright,
The Cuckoo's greetings give the Soul delight,
But when the harmony of May abounds,
His hackney'd note seems harsh and scrannel sounds—
So may the cheated will be charm'd awhile
With Flattery's plausive tones, and polish'd style,
But when celestial Truths pure joys dispense,
Love loaths the sounds, and Prudence spurns the sense.
The breast ne'er bounds in Summer's morn, serene,
While Fear, foreboding, blanks the saddening Scene,
Lest sullen vapours rais'd by sultry heat,
Should close, with clouds and tempest, Day's retreat—
Thus, tho' Deception spreads her shining snares,
With flattering looks, and fascinating airs,
Experience soon forsees what Fancy forms,
Dread shapes and shades of baleful embryo storms!

Each flimsy web sham Flattery's shuttle weaves
In brilliant colours, her bright flow'rs and leaves—
All double-mill'd dark masks, Deceit e'er made,
By daily shuffling lose their dusky shade,
While sound experience, with her piercing sight,
Thro' many a thread-bare mesh explores the light.
While Wisdom's clear, well-educated, eyes,
All spots and wrinkles of the Spirit spies;
And all it notes, at first, not fully true,
Is mark'd more certain every future view;
Till, like an astronomic Amateur,
Her observations end correct, and sure.

Dissimulation's vizors ever show
Vain sparks of Pride, and Arrogance's glow.
Tho' doubly-dy'd, in grain, with ebon hue,
Sense quickly sees bland Cunning blinking through;
The flimsy frippery Affectation wears,
Soon temper—time—or apt contingence—tears;
While Passion shows the Spirit's true intents,
Expos'd, to prying looks, thro' wretched rents.

The mimic sounds of Simulation, may,
Simplicity's pure ears, a time, betray;
And, mask'd Malevolence, with pseudo-smile,
The sight of blameless Innocence beguile;
But Wisdom will, at length, discover, clear,
The Imp of Spite, with Heav'n's Ithuriel spear.
Oft scarified, and couch'd, her eyes discern,
What none but wounded Soul's will ever learn,
Whose vellicated hearts feel vengeful pangs,
From stripes of steel, and fiery Serpent's fangs;
When, pierc'd with bleeding stabs, convictions prove
How Hate can lunge, conceal'd with cloaks of Love.
While Cunning, Scorn, and Spite, with skill profound,
Inject sharp juices thro' each weltering wound!

As Spider squats, inclos'd in secret cell,
Fram'd in all parts external news to tell;
'Mid central radii, bound by circling bands,
The curious clue of nicest network, stands
In snug recess, instructed there to hide,
Still, whether waking, or asleep, employ'd,
Prepar'd for food, or threat'ning foes to feel,
For bliss, or being, watching Nature's weal;
Sensation shooting thro' each trembling string,
From rendings, rude, or insect's wavering wing;
Alarm'd for life, and tenement, at stake,
When strong vibrations her frail building shake;
Or, hoping prey, nor dreading foul designs,
When soft sensations thrill along the lines—
So sits the human Soul on mental seat,
Where all her messengers, and agents, meet;
With intellectual comprehension blest,
While constant correspondents range, or rest;
Commission'd full from Heav'n's almighty King,
Continual notes to bear, or news to bring;
In every part, throughout, their tasks fulfil,
To publish pleasure, or to hint at ill.
These warey Watchmen stand, or, instant, start,
As hopes, or troubles, touch the head, or heart—
Like constant Couriers, kept about the Court,
Appointed to convey complete report;
Or faithful Friends who throng around her throne,
To tell when mischief's near, or misery's known—
When violations press, or vengeful pow'rs
Picquets surprize—attack—or storm, her tow'rs;
Or, eager, with some welcome message run,
With soothing signs of hope, or bliss begun.

There, first appriz'd, by far-perceiving Eye,
To keep her station, to approach, or fly;
Or, timely taught, by quick-vibrating Ear,
Of safety, new delight, or danger, near.
With nearer indication stands the Nose
Announcing fragrant friends, or fetid foes;
While, by a contact close, the tasteful tongue
Proclaims food fit or unfit—right or wrong—
And not an out-post of her dear domain,
That thrills with pleasure, or that throbs with pain,
But scouts, in corps, fill every point of space,
Acute in sense, and rapid in the race,
Spontaneous promptitude and strength, employ,
Foretelling jeopardy, or, furthering joy;
Quick as the sparks pervade conducting wires,
To fright, or tickle, with electric fires.