The Works and Rest of the Creation By Moses Browne |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
| I. | THE Morning's Meditating Walk.
|
| II. |
| III. |
 | The Works and Rest of the Creation |  |
I. THE Morning's Meditating Walk.
PART I. On the Internal, Early, and Preparatory Duties.
114
CONTENTS.
An Introduction to the Subject. The Advantage of separating some time the Evening before a Sabbath. Address to the Dutchess of Somerset. The Appearance of the Dawn. Reflections upon rising; at walking Abroad; on the Pleasantness of the Season—on a Life of rural Retirement; a Morning Hymn on ascending a Hill, in a View of the surrounding Prospects; Reflections during a solitary Wandring in a Church-yard—observing a Rookery—sitting by a River; a Visit to a lonely Abbey, and taking shelter in its Ruins during the Violence of a Thunder-storm. Its Horrors describ'd; with some closing Reflections on our late Earthquakes—The sweet Appearances in Nature on the Calm.—Lawfulness of walking in the Fields for Meditation in the Intervals of a Lord's Day; one Part of Sabbath Duties a Remembrance of the Works of Creation; the other those of Redemption. Various Considerations and Instances of the Blessings and Privileges of the latter—upon first hearing the Bells from the different Villages—the Walk broke off; and an Application to a timely Attendance on religious Ordinances in the House of God.
115
Mute with conceal'd Distress, joy-widow'd long,
My own sad Burthen, had my tuneless Mind
Disconsolate, life wearied, dropt the Lyre;
Like the sad, pensive, wint'ry Philomel
Silenc'd from Song: By Melancholy's Gloom,
By Griefs, unyielding to the Muse's Charm.
Nor purpos'd more, nor wish'd I, e'er to wake
The once relieving String. So lost with me
Care's Cheerer, Hope, ah! that Deceiver fair!
My Spirits broke, by worst Presage imprest,
A Mind benighted, with a wasting Frame.
My own sad Burthen, had my tuneless Mind
Disconsolate, life wearied, dropt the Lyre;
Like the sad, pensive, wint'ry Philomel
Silenc'd from Song: By Melancholy's Gloom,
By Griefs, unyielding to the Muse's Charm.
Nor purpos'd more, nor wish'd I, e'er to wake
The once relieving String. So lost with me
Care's Cheerer, Hope, ah! that Deceiver fair!
116
A Mind benighted, with a wasting Frame.
Jesus! dear Name of Love! O Saviour God!
After long Absence, how divinely Sweet
Thy felt Return! like instantaneous Health,
Delightful, to a Wretch by Sickness worn,
Snatch'd back miraculous from dying Pangs.
He comes! Pain's Balm, the healing Visitor,
The sympathising Friend! Rise, languid Soul!
From thy dark, deep, dull, damp, dead Lethargy.
With kindled Zeal resume, with fresh-felt Love,
Thy wonted Labour; not (perhaps) my least,
If heavenly Goodness please the Strain divine,
To dictate, and assist her kindred Theme.
After long Absence, how divinely Sweet
Thy felt Return! like instantaneous Health,
Delightful, to a Wretch by Sickness worn,
Snatch'd back miraculous from dying Pangs.
He comes! Pain's Balm, the healing Visitor,
The sympathising Friend! Rise, languid Soul!
From thy dark, deep, dull, damp, dead Lethargy.
With kindled Zeal resume, with fresh-felt Love,
Thy wonted Labour; not (perhaps) my least,
If heavenly Goodness please the Strain divine,
To dictate, and assist her kindred Theme.
Six days has Man in duteous Toil employ'd:
His Sum assign'd. And now the Eve appears,
Prelude to sweetest Hours of holier Rest;
Kind Respite, in the round of Weekly Time,
For travell'd Dust to call its Labourer home
The Partner Mind; to steal her from the Throng
Of loud Intruders, charg'd with worldly Schemes;
And strike a partial Truce with mortal Care.
To cleanse her Soils, adjust her decent Dress,
And mould her, in Composure fit, to wait
Her Call; when she, on Audience, soon shall meet
In his full Court, the universal King.
The Chamber, for the milder Presence, fix'd
Of condescending Deity. So went
Th' obedient Sire his dear, devoted Son
Consorting, up th' appointed Mount of God,
And, inly tended, with Exclusion mete,
At distance, left below his servile Train.
His Sum assign'd. And now the Eve appears,
Prelude to sweetest Hours of holier Rest;
Kind Respite, in the round of Weekly Time,
For travell'd Dust to call its Labourer home
The Partner Mind; to steal her from the Throng
Of loud Intruders, charg'd with worldly Schemes;
And strike a partial Truce with mortal Care.
To cleanse her Soils, adjust her decent Dress,
And mould her, in Composure fit, to wait
Her Call; when she, on Audience, soon shall meet
In his full Court, the universal King.
117
Of condescending Deity. So went
Th' obedient Sire his dear, devoted Son
Consorting, up th' appointed Mount of God,
And, inly tended, with Exclusion mete,
At distance, left below his servile Train.
I sing to matchless Somerset: where'er
The Changes lead me of this sacred Theme
(Truths Evangelical tho' plainly phras'd)
Her's is the Song. Her shining Pattern view;
Mark it ye Great! from her aspire to gain
By Goodness Love, true Dignity from Sense,
And Exaltation by Humility:
Blest Gifts, the Crown of Piety and Faith.
Her's is the Song; auspicious prove it's Art!
As She, mild Excellence! auspicious proves.
The Changes lead me of this sacred Theme
(Truths Evangelical tho' plainly phras'd)
Her's is the Song. Her shining Pattern view;
Mark it ye Great! from her aspire to gain
By Goodness Love, true Dignity from Sense,
And Exaltation by Humility:
Blest Gifts, the Crown of Piety and Faith.
Her's is the Song; auspicious prove it's Art!
As She, mild Excellence! auspicious proves.
See! Night has thinn'd her Shades. The watchful Bird
Days warning Centinel, with Crowings loud
Gives Signal. O! like weeping Peter touch'd!
Duly let me, affecting Monitor!
Thy Summons hear. Thus woke th' illustrious Greek
Rous'd, ev'ry Morn, by a shrill Herald's Cry,
“King! thou art mortal.” Moral Voice, how harsh
In Courtly Roofs!—But mark! the meek-ey'd Dawn!
Lights youngest Daughter, drest in Vesture pale,
With sweet, cool Breath, descends from odorous Skies!
The Sabbath Dawn, first of the Week, and best,
“Up Sleeper! from thy Bed. At earlier Hour
“From sadder Bed, for Thee thy Saviour rose!”
By Memory warn'd, at the lov'd Name I wake.
At the known, reverenc'd Voice devoutly wake;
I wake with God: last in my Thoughts and first
By Night and Morn. My Guardian of the Night,
My Guide by Day. Ah! what is lightless Day
Without thy Light? Ah! what is lifeless Life
Without thy dear Vitality? As Flow'rs,
Weeping in wat'ry Dews, their Faces bend
To their all-cheering Parent's genial Ray
The fost'ring Sun, so turns my Soul to feel
Her quick'ning Father. In thy Arms of Love
Safe have I slept; thy Arms of Love alone
Can safe-uphold me waking. Led by thee
My Footsteps now I trust in open Skies;
In sacred Meditation rapt; to taste
The fresh, prime Fragrance of returning Light:
While thy soft Daughter, Summer's Virgin-Nymph,
The bloomy May, deck'd amorous by thy Hand,
Courts, sweet, the lonely-roving Walker's Eye;
Chaste-wooing ev'ry Sense, by ev'ry Charm.
Days warning Centinel, with Crowings loud
Gives Signal. O! like weeping Peter touch'd!
Duly let me, affecting Monitor!
Thy Summons hear. Thus woke th' illustrious Greek
Rous'd, ev'ry Morn, by a shrill Herald's Cry,
118
In Courtly Roofs!—But mark! the meek-ey'd Dawn!
Lights youngest Daughter, drest in Vesture pale,
With sweet, cool Breath, descends from odorous Skies!
The Sabbath Dawn, first of the Week, and best,
“Up Sleeper! from thy Bed. At earlier Hour
“From sadder Bed, for Thee thy Saviour rose!”
By Memory warn'd, at the lov'd Name I wake.
At the known, reverenc'd Voice devoutly wake;
I wake with God: last in my Thoughts and first
By Night and Morn. My Guardian of the Night,
My Guide by Day. Ah! what is lightless Day
Without thy Light? Ah! what is lifeless Life
Without thy dear Vitality? As Flow'rs,
Weeping in wat'ry Dews, their Faces bend
To their all-cheering Parent's genial Ray
The fost'ring Sun, so turns my Soul to feel
Her quick'ning Father. In thy Arms of Love
Safe have I slept; thy Arms of Love alone
Can safe-uphold me waking. Led by thee
My Footsteps now I trust in open Skies;
In sacred Meditation rapt; to taste
The fresh, prime Fragrance of returning Light:
While thy soft Daughter, Summer's Virgin-Nymph,
The bloomy May, deck'd amorous by thy Hand,
119
Chaste-wooing ev'ry Sense, by ev'ry Charm.
Retirement! thou celestial Solacer!
The Care-tost Voyager's dear, welcome Bay,
Faint with the beating Storm of adverse Life.
Lot, most desir'd! most happy!—O with me
Muse, Genius, Fame, Ambition, Av'rice, Wealth,
My little, amplest whole of earthly Good!
For thee I long have sigh'd—but sigh in vain!
Sole woo'd, yet unconsenting to my Joy.
Yet cease I not by Dawn, or Evening-Hour
Thy lov'd Recess (tho' hopeless) still to haunt,
And vent my secret Moan; by dewy Mead,
Dark Cave, or vocal Stream, or Moon-light Grove.
Like some poor exil'd Lover, who by Stealth
Watches, when he his solitary Walk
Can take; in desperation to complain.
All that below (of calm, of good and pure,
Of bland, or rational, devout, or sweet,)
Is found in Wisdom's School, to train, mature,
And lift sublime the Heart, inhabit here.
Here shines the Hero, here true Greatness lives,
Lives on its own, nor needs to ask Without
Hard penury) Loans, from mean, dependant Joys.
Leagued with the high-born Genii there, meek Peace,
Fair Child of Virtue, and her Sister-Grace
Divine Contentment; with her Little blest:
The Dower bestow'd on patient Poverty.
Happiest Abstraction from the tempting World!
Not monkish, slothful, sullen, and austere;
The Palmer's Penance, and the Hermit's Cell,
The false-religious Bedlam's Beads and Straw.
No Couch for Indolence to hatch her Dream:
But to repose for Action; to purge off
Rank Envy's Gall, the lep'rous Spot of Pride,
Dropsied Ambition, Pleasure's feav'rish Heats,
The Soul's consumptive Thirst of earthly Bliss,
And her ill Habits by Example fix'd.
Where led in awful Visits to herself,
Internal Intimacies charm the Heart.
The Home-brought Stranger entertain'd and pleas'd
Feasts with her kindred Pow'rs, and happier grows,
Acquainted with the Family within.
And from her Centre thro' wide Duty's sphere
(Of sacred and of social) looking round,
Notes her high Birth; and nobler walks Abroad,
In Acts of Faith, Benevolence, and Love,
With Rank superior, in the moral World.
The Care-tost Voyager's dear, welcome Bay,
Faint with the beating Storm of adverse Life.
Lot, most desir'd! most happy!—O with me
Muse, Genius, Fame, Ambition, Av'rice, Wealth,
My little, amplest whole of earthly Good!
For thee I long have sigh'd—but sigh in vain!
Sole woo'd, yet unconsenting to my Joy.
Yet cease I not by Dawn, or Evening-Hour
Thy lov'd Recess (tho' hopeless) still to haunt,
And vent my secret Moan; by dewy Mead,
Dark Cave, or vocal Stream, or Moon-light Grove.
Like some poor exil'd Lover, who by Stealth
Watches, when he his solitary Walk
Can take; in desperation to complain.
All that below (of calm, of good and pure,
Of bland, or rational, devout, or sweet,)
Is found in Wisdom's School, to train, mature,
And lift sublime the Heart, inhabit here.
Here shines the Hero, here true Greatness lives,
Lives on its own, nor needs to ask Without
Hard penury) Loans, from mean, dependant Joys.
Leagued with the high-born Genii there, meek Peace,
Fair Child of Virtue, and her Sister-Grace
Divine Contentment; with her Little blest:
120
Happiest Abstraction from the tempting World!
Not monkish, slothful, sullen, and austere;
The Palmer's Penance, and the Hermit's Cell,
The false-religious Bedlam's Beads and Straw.
No Couch for Indolence to hatch her Dream:
But to repose for Action; to purge off
Rank Envy's Gall, the lep'rous Spot of Pride,
Dropsied Ambition, Pleasure's feav'rish Heats,
The Soul's consumptive Thirst of earthly Bliss,
And her ill Habits by Example fix'd.
Where led in awful Visits to herself,
Internal Intimacies charm the Heart.
The Home-brought Stranger entertain'd and pleas'd
Feasts with her kindred Pow'rs, and happier grows,
Acquainted with the Family within.
And from her Centre thro' wide Duty's sphere
(Of sacred and of social) looking round,
Notes her high Birth; and nobler walks Abroad,
In Acts of Faith, Benevolence, and Love,
With Rank superior, in the moral World.
Hail silent Fields! with your Inhabitant
Blest Contemplation! friendly to the Muse.
Yet grateful Interruption may ye here
By Change admit; of Flocks that bleating feed,
And Herds deep lowing, and the Musick shrill,
Heard round me, of the Insect's buzzing Wing,
And, loud, of early Birds the vary'd Charm.
These praise their Maker all, and lift in praise
The pious Heart, to join in Nature's Prayer.
Nor Things of Voice alone, each humid Flow'r
It's Incense breathes to Thee! each dewy Plant
And grassy Spire, thick-strung with native Pearl!
Almighty Father! Flocks, and Herds, and Birds
Insects and Flowers, and Plants, all Nature's Births,
All praise thy Goodness, all—but thankless Man!
Man, most ungrateful! most obliged! of all.
Blest Contemplation! friendly to the Muse.
Yet grateful Interruption may ye here
By Change admit; of Flocks that bleating feed,
And Herds deep lowing, and the Musick shrill,
Heard round me, of the Insect's buzzing Wing,
121
These praise their Maker all, and lift in praise
The pious Heart, to join in Nature's Prayer.
Nor Things of Voice alone, each humid Flow'r
It's Incense breathes to Thee! each dewy Plant
And grassy Spire, thick-strung with native Pearl!
Almighty Father! Flocks, and Herds, and Birds
Insects and Flowers, and Plants, all Nature's Births,
All praise thy Goodness, all—but thankless Man!
Man, most ungrateful! most obliged! of all.
But see! in mild, resplendent Majesty,
See! where ascending, the bright Lord of Day
(His Forehead hung with Locks of curling Gold)
Smiles from his eastern Throne; dispelling fast
Th' invading Mists, that with distemper'd Shade
Hang on Night's dusky Rear, and hide from view
Surrounding Prospects fair: of Flowret Meads
And Wood-clad Hills, with Villa's intermix'd
Of antient Aspect; fram'd for rural Peace,
Delightful Residence! and verdant Groves
Of Structure tall, and silver-skirting Streams,
Winding thro' Vales in Flora's Wardrobes drest,
Or rich in stately Grain; whose loaded Plumes
Dance proudly on the Breeze; and like a Sea
Roll, far, the sounding vegetable Wave.
And, all beyond, the Mountain-Heights appear,
By distance blue; that lose themselves in Sky.
See! where ascending, the bright Lord of Day
(His Forehead hung with Locks of curling Gold)
Smiles from his eastern Throne; dispelling fast
Th' invading Mists, that with distemper'd Shade
Hang on Night's dusky Rear, and hide from view
Surrounding Prospects fair: of Flowret Meads
And Wood-clad Hills, with Villa's intermix'd
Of antient Aspect; fram'd for rural Peace,
Delightful Residence! and verdant Groves
Of Structure tall, and silver-skirting Streams,
Winding thro' Vales in Flora's Wardrobes drest,
Or rich in stately Grain; whose loaded Plumes
Dance proudly on the Breeze; and like a Sea
Roll, far, the sounding vegetable Wave.
And, all beyond, the Mountain-Heights appear,
By distance blue; that lose themselves in Sky.
122
How chang'd a Prospect! from the Scene of late,
When Darkness, Emblem of still Nature's Grave,
Had clos'd her in a temporary Death;
Annihilating Colours, Sense, and Forms.
On ev'ry Lid had shed her Poppy Dews,
And round Creation's silent Bed had drawn
Her sable Curtains, of Nocturnal Gloom.
Thus looks the Convert (late in Bondage lock'd
Of legal Terrors: a tremendous Night,)
Thus chang'd! when on his sad, tenebrious Soul
Jesus, the Day-Star, from above, shall rise
With healing Balm beneath his radiant Wings;
Jesus, of Righteousness, that brighter Sun!
When Darkness, Emblem of still Nature's Grave,
Had clos'd her in a temporary Death;
Annihilating Colours, Sense, and Forms.
On ev'ry Lid had shed her Poppy Dews,
And round Creation's silent Bed had drawn
Her sable Curtains, of Nocturnal Gloom.
Thus looks the Convert (late in Bondage lock'd
Of legal Terrors: a tremendous Night,)
Thus chang'd! when on his sad, tenebrious Soul
Jesus, the Day-Star, from above, shall rise
With healing Balm beneath his radiant Wings;
Jesus, of Righteousness, that brighter Sun!
Is Light so grateful to the human Sense?
Created Light? a faint, refracted Ray?
One, distant Sun? the Shadow, but, of God!
Dark Adumbration of the Deity?
O! what is Heav'n! that Day of endless Light?
Where Saints shall from th' essential Fountain drink
Of Radiance! in God's full, Paternal shine?
Ah! what is Hell? of ever-absent Day
A Night, all hopeless!—and all endless too!
Created Light? a faint, refracted Ray?
One, distant Sun? the Shadow, but, of God!
Dark Adumbration of the Deity?
O! what is Heav'n! that Day of endless Light?
Where Saints shall from th' essential Fountain drink
Of Radiance! in God's full, Paternal shine?
Ah! what is Hell? of ever-absent Day
A Night, all hopeless!—and all endless too!
Welcome bright Influence! kindest Gift of HIM
Who bid thy Orb of Splendours pour on Earth
Life, Health, and Joy! thy warm, thy friendly Ray
How grateful! while the vapour-weeping Mead
Reeks with chill Mist, an incommodious Track
For the rash Trav'ller yet, whose weltring Feet
Brush from the plaishy Blades the Tears of Morn.
Here let me wander, where, in Fragrance full
Or rosy Light, this more inviting Hill
Drinks, on his sloping Side, the franker Beam.
With pace relax'd the steep Ascent I gain;
But gain with Toil—how like the Christian's Path:
A sweetly-pleasing, yet laborious Way—
And now, how vast a Landskip, kenn'd from hence
Breaks on my wilder'd Eye! in roving lost.
From Field, Farm, Village, Park, Dale, Stream and Grove!
Gay, Primrose Lawns, flaming in vernal Gold,
Or Daisie-interlaid, of checquer'd Hues:
With Herds and Flocks, wide-feeding round at will.
And Woods Night-brown; where ever and anon
Some opening Glade I meet, with ranging Troops
Of timorous Deer; viewed here, and there, between.
And here, and there, a Branch of some fair Stream
Silv'ring the Vale; and, over all, the Tops
Of sacred Spires, that tow'r in antient State,
I catch, at distant Glance; a solemn Sight!
Beyond them Thames, her Ocean-hast'ning Flood
Throws widely open to the Beam of Heav'n.
Her Bosom white with proudly-swelling Sails,
That bear her Home the Treasures of the World:
Spread, a full Breadth, to gather all the Winds,
By the glad Crews, revisiting her Shores.
Whose Spirits dance, with Expectation warm,
Parents, or Friends, in Transport soon to greet,
Consorts, or Children; after absence long.
And farther on, in Smallness almost lost
Augusta, seen in soft'ning Miniature,
O'er a profusive Longitude of Plains,
Her hundred Temples rears: Like Needle-Points
Uprising slender in th' enbrighten'd Air.
Where, in the midst, the Work of Wren , displays
It's graceful Dome; and to the West, just spy'd,
The Gothic Abbey: Where sepulcher'd, sleeps
(Thro' a long Race) the Dust of Albion's Kings.
Around I gaze—around—by Raptures tir'd
Yet never full—some Object new, and fair,
Some fresh-presented Charm, where'er I turn,
The Scene expands—and still expands the Scene,
With Prospects ever fair, and ever new.
But all is seen Below, a Picture spread
Beneath my Feet, with nought above but Skies.
—So looks the Saint (so ever shou'd he look)
On earthly Glories, with his Brow in Heav'n.
Hail! Beauties, pencil'd by Omnipotence!
Hail! Nature's Concert, pleasing to an Ear
In wonder list'ning, to the silent Hymn
Ideal heard! sung inward to the Soul
From Forms harmonious, this mute Quire of God!
Like the feign'd, mystic Musick of the Spheres
Unheard, unheeded by Sense-grov'ling Minds.
See too! responsive, with her holiest Strains,
The Muse awakes; while now the mounting Lark
From his green Pallat rous'd, yields lavish Song:
Inviting of my Lay, symphonious tun'd,
That calls Attention from his sylvan Bower.
—Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
That now, by gross, or mental Sight beheld,
Claim Adoration high! thy Power I own!
Lib'ral! profuse! benign! confess'd by Knees
Thus prostrate bent in Dust; and Hands, and Eyes
Turn'd tow'rd thy Throne, in Praise, and kindled Love!
O what a Builder! what a Father! here
His House has furnished, with unsparing cost,
For Man his Creature; his unworthiest Son!
For Me of vilest Prodigals most vile!
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King
Ye Seasons! that in sweet vicissitude
Roll on, of grateful Change: Fresh, vernal Fields
That now his Liveries wear of youthful Green!
Summer, his fragrant First-born! loveliest deck'd
Of all thy Sister-Train; in softest Robes
Of Twilights, glistring with pellucid Gold,
Thy cheerful Night-Attire; perfum'd in Sweets
Of various Flowers: And serv'd in daily State
By free-attendant Suns, and waiting Gales!
Thou Autumn too! more ripe; in Matron-Charms,
Of harvest-Fruits; thy Offspring, large and fair;
And hoary Winter! in thy sable Stole
Of Storm and Clouds, with ermine Cincture tipp'd
Of Mountain Snows! when freezing Vapours pale
On the dimm'd Windows dress their mimick Forms:
And with rude Bracelets, on the Cob-web'd Wall
Pearl the coarse Arrass of Arachne's Loom.
From a full Chorus of the quarter'd Year,
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King!—
—In your alternate Courses, Eve, or Morn,
Be witness! if ingrateful, I forget
His wondrous Goodness; or, my Hymn, his praise.
Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
Thine is the Heaven , the Heaven of Heavens is thine.
With their innumerous Host! but the broad Earth,
Work of thy Love, has thy rich Bounty giv'n,
A large Possession, to the Sons of Men!
Who bid thy Orb of Splendours pour on Earth
Life, Health, and Joy! thy warm, thy friendly Ray
123
Reeks with chill Mist, an incommodious Track
For the rash Trav'ller yet, whose weltring Feet
Brush from the plaishy Blades the Tears of Morn.
Here let me wander, where, in Fragrance full
Or rosy Light, this more inviting Hill
Drinks, on his sloping Side, the franker Beam.
With pace relax'd the steep Ascent I gain;
But gain with Toil—how like the Christian's Path:
A sweetly-pleasing, yet laborious Way—
And now, how vast a Landskip, kenn'd from hence
Breaks on my wilder'd Eye! in roving lost.
From Field, Farm, Village, Park, Dale, Stream and Grove!
Gay, Primrose Lawns, flaming in vernal Gold,
Or Daisie-interlaid, of checquer'd Hues:
With Herds and Flocks, wide-feeding round at will.
And Woods Night-brown; where ever and anon
Some opening Glade I meet, with ranging Troops
Of timorous Deer; viewed here, and there, between.
And here, and there, a Branch of some fair Stream
Silv'ring the Vale; and, over all, the Tops
Of sacred Spires, that tow'r in antient State,
I catch, at distant Glance; a solemn Sight!
Beyond them Thames, her Ocean-hast'ning Flood
Throws widely open to the Beam of Heav'n.
Her Bosom white with proudly-swelling Sails,
That bear her Home the Treasures of the World:
124
By the glad Crews, revisiting her Shores.
Whose Spirits dance, with Expectation warm,
Parents, or Friends, in Transport soon to greet,
Consorts, or Children; after absence long.
And farther on, in Smallness almost lost
Augusta, seen in soft'ning Miniature,
O'er a profusive Longitude of Plains,
Her hundred Temples rears: Like Needle-Points
Uprising slender in th' enbrighten'd Air.
Where, in the midst, the Work of Wren , displays
It's graceful Dome; and to the West, just spy'd,
The Gothic Abbey: Where sepulcher'd, sleeps
(Thro' a long Race) the Dust of Albion's Kings.
Around I gaze—around—by Raptures tir'd
Yet never full—some Object new, and fair,
Some fresh-presented Charm, where'er I turn,
The Scene expands—and still expands the Scene,
With Prospects ever fair, and ever new.
But all is seen Below, a Picture spread
Beneath my Feet, with nought above but Skies.
—So looks the Saint (so ever shou'd he look)
On earthly Glories, with his Brow in Heav'n.
Hail! Beauties, pencil'd by Omnipotence!
Hail! Nature's Concert, pleasing to an Ear
In wonder list'ning, to the silent Hymn
Ideal heard! sung inward to the Soul
125
Like the feign'd, mystic Musick of the Spheres
Unheard, unheeded by Sense-grov'ling Minds.
See too! responsive, with her holiest Strains,
The Muse awakes; while now the mounting Lark
From his green Pallat rous'd, yields lavish Song:
Inviting of my Lay, symphonious tun'd,
That calls Attention from his sylvan Bower.
—Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
That now, by gross, or mental Sight beheld,
Claim Adoration high! thy Power I own!
Lib'ral! profuse! benign! confess'd by Knees
Thus prostrate bent in Dust; and Hands, and Eyes
Turn'd tow'rd thy Throne, in Praise, and kindled Love!
O what a Builder! what a Father! here
His House has furnished, with unsparing cost,
For Man his Creature; his unworthiest Son!
For Me of vilest Prodigals most vile!
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King
Ye Seasons! that in sweet vicissitude
Roll on, of grateful Change: Fresh, vernal Fields
That now his Liveries wear of youthful Green!
Summer, his fragrant First-born! loveliest deck'd
Of all thy Sister-Train; in softest Robes
Of Twilights, glistring with pellucid Gold,
Thy cheerful Night-Attire; perfum'd in Sweets
126
By free-attendant Suns, and waiting Gales!
Thou Autumn too! more ripe; in Matron-Charms,
Of harvest-Fruits; thy Offspring, large and fair;
And hoary Winter! in thy sable Stole
Of Storm and Clouds, with ermine Cincture tipp'd
Of Mountain Snows! when freezing Vapours pale
On the dimm'd Windows dress their mimick Forms:
And with rude Bracelets, on the Cob-web'd Wall
Pearl the coarse Arrass of Arachne's Loom.
From a full Chorus of the quarter'd Year,
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King!—
—In your alternate Courses, Eve, or Morn,
Be witness! if ingrateful, I forget
His wondrous Goodness; or, my Hymn, his praise.
Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
Thine is the Heaven , the Heaven of Heavens is thine.
With their innumerous Host! but the broad Earth,
Work of thy Love, has thy rich Bounty giv'n,
A large Possession, to the Sons of Men!
Strange Bliss has tranc'd me! an extatic Calm!
Serv'd, by Devotion, at this Feast of Sense,
My Pulse of Joy beats high—Led on the while,
In the warm Ardours of Seraphick Zeal,
My filial reverent Thoughts still search for Thee
Their dear, dear God: as of the Subject, sweet,
My Meditation takes her pleasing fill.
Where is my Father? where my Maker? view'd
In all his Works, conspicuous, free and kind?
All view'd? all near? all present?—yet unseen!
Where is my God? the wish-impassion'd Mind
Has wondrous Power, from farthest-severing Space
It's Object to invoke; and, as with Charm
Of Magic Spell, make present. Loud my Tongue
Repeats a Lesson which, with Solace blest,
Was wont to chear me, in my loneliest Walks:
When far from every Ear (my list'ning Heart
By utter'd Sounds more deeply to impress)
Frequent was us'd, in Accents audible
My Voice, its lov'd Soliloquy to breathe.
Serv'd, by Devotion, at this Feast of Sense,
My Pulse of Joy beats high—Led on the while,
In the warm Ardours of Seraphick Zeal,
127
Their dear, dear God: as of the Subject, sweet,
My Meditation takes her pleasing fill.
Where is my Father? where my Maker? view'd
In all his Works, conspicuous, free and kind?
All view'd? all near? all present?—yet unseen!
Where is my God? the wish-impassion'd Mind
Has wondrous Power, from farthest-severing Space
It's Object to invoke; and, as with Charm
Of Magic Spell, make present. Loud my Tongue
Repeats a Lesson which, with Solace blest,
Was wont to chear me, in my loneliest Walks:
When far from every Ear (my list'ning Heart
By utter'd Sounds more deeply to impress)
Frequent was us'd, in Accents audible
My Voice, its lov'd Soliloquy to breathe.
128
The Prospects cease. For from yon Summit now
Insensibly, in wistless Pond'rings! brought
The Scenes that charm'd me, late, are view'd no more.
How like the Christian still! who ne'er can climb
Th' extatic Mount, but soon he treads the Vale
Of deep Humiliation—Lo! my Feet,
At unawares, a rural, still Church-yard
Have enter'd; dark with Elm and Funeral Yew,
Scarce ever, but on Holy Festivals
Frequented; far from ev'ry public Path:
Of Situation loneliest, and obscure.
Dread Seat of Death! A Theme which lately Thou
Hervey, lov'd Friend! fam'd, sacred Meditant!
Hast touch'd so well. Yet useful Lores, tho' less,
My humble Genius, haply, may attempt
For moral Ears; not noted in thy Plan.
Insensibly, in wistless Pond'rings! brought
129
How like the Christian still! who ne'er can climb
Th' extatic Mount, but soon he treads the Vale
130
At unawares, a rural, still Church-yard
131
Scarce ever, but on Holy Festivals
Frequented; far from ev'ry public Path:
Of Situation loneliest, and obscure.
Dread Seat of Death! A Theme which lately Thou
Hervey, lov'd Friend! fam'd, sacred Meditant!
Hast touch'd so well. Yet useful Lores, tho' less,
My humble Genius, haply, may attempt
For moral Ears; not noted in thy Plan.
See! this large antique Pile! how reverend Grey
In hoary Age, it's Walls! and mouldring Tower!
With tufted Moss and Ivy rudely hung.
From whose high Turrets, now by Years decay'd,
Five times, struck deep and slow, the solemn Bell
Resounding hoarse, has told the Hour of Morn.
These lonesome Walks, of thick, uncouthest Shade,
Thro' lengths of Century's past, by turns have clos'd
Each Race of Tenants, in the Village round:
The wasted Spoils of old Mortality.
How wondrous! when the awful Trump of Doom
Heard thro' Earth's Realms and Hell, shall start, recloath'd,
(Swift as the Motion of the twinkled Eye)
Each Form, now chaos'd in this mingled Mass;
Mark'd in these Ranks of Graves, and cloystring Tombs.
One common Chamber, kept for fellow Dust.
None deferenc'd there: dead! in the Pomp of State!
State! state in Death! O Mockry too severe
For my worst Foe! deep Proof of Pride in Man!
In hoary Age, it's Walls! and mouldring Tower!
With tufted Moss and Ivy rudely hung.
From whose high Turrets, now by Years decay'd,
Five times, struck deep and slow, the solemn Bell
Resounding hoarse, has told the Hour of Morn.
These lonesome Walks, of thick, uncouthest Shade,
Thro' lengths of Century's past, by turns have clos'd
Each Race of Tenants, in the Village round:
132
How wondrous! when the awful Trump of Doom
Heard thro' Earth's Realms and Hell, shall start, recloath'd,
(Swift as the Motion of the twinkled Eye)
Each Form, now chaos'd in this mingled Mass;
Mark'd in these Ranks of Graves, and cloystring Tombs.
One common Chamber, kept for fellow Dust.
None deferenc'd there: dead! in the Pomp of State!
State! state in Death! O Mockry too severe
For my worst Foe! deep Proof of Pride in Man!
How many, without least Memorial left
Of whom, or what they were, in this cold Bed
Mix in Oblivion, with coeval Clay?
Borne like light Bubbles down the Tide of Time;
Or Leaves, which Autumn sheds; dispers'd, and lost.
Some seek a frail Remembrance, on their Graves:
Surviving in a Monumental Life.
Alas, how vainly! these brief Registers
Scarce more, at best, than barely this relate
That once—“a private Name, to Most unknown,
“Lived, a short, usual Sum of common Years
“With Man—and then—with Man, in common— dy'd.”
Meer Folly weak, and Ostentation, poor,
Of Self Esteem. Yet striking in its Use,
And Doctrinal; that anxious, general Wish
Of proud immortal Fame, in mortal Man,
Proves, to Man's self, his Immortality.
—But who? what Worthy? by Inscription large
On this fair Obelisk, with Trophies hung,
Asks reverence, from th' admiring Passenger?
High, is the Praise bestowed; if haply due.
“The fam'd—Benevolent—the strictly Good—
“The perfect Christian”—who demands the Palm
This Worth confers, of Panegyrick full?
—Oh!—turn thy Eyes away, nor view the Name!
Of foulest Grain! detestable in Death!
Where Virtues shine not, signal, in the Life;
View'd in Example, in their Influence felt,
'Tis basest Adulation paid to Dust!
'Tis branding the dead Convict in the Front!
'Tis loud Reproach, 'tis studied Infamy!
Abortive Boast! not all the Gloze on Tombs
Can saint a Chartres, or make just a Wilde.
Of whom, or what they were, in this cold Bed
Mix in Oblivion, with coeval Clay?
Borne like light Bubbles down the Tide of Time;
Or Leaves, which Autumn sheds; dispers'd, and lost.
Some seek a frail Remembrance, on their Graves:
Surviving in a Monumental Life.
Alas, how vainly! these brief Registers
Scarce more, at best, than barely this relate
That once—“a private Name, to Most unknown,
“Lived, a short, usual Sum of common Years
“With Man—and then—with Man, in common— dy'd.”
Meer Folly weak, and Ostentation, poor,
Of Self Esteem. Yet striking in its Use,
133
Of proud immortal Fame, in mortal Man,
Proves, to Man's self, his Immortality.
—But who? what Worthy? by Inscription large
On this fair Obelisk, with Trophies hung,
Asks reverence, from th' admiring Passenger?
High, is the Praise bestowed; if haply due.
“The fam'd—Benevolent—the strictly Good—
“The perfect Christian”—who demands the Palm
This Worth confers, of Panegyrick full?
—Oh!—turn thy Eyes away, nor view the Name!
Of foulest Grain! detestable in Death!
Where Virtues shine not, signal, in the Life;
View'd in Example, in their Influence felt,
'Tis basest Adulation paid to Dust!
'Tis branding the dead Convict in the Front!
'Tis loud Reproach, 'tis studied Infamy!
Abortive Boast! not all the Gloze on Tombs
Can saint a Chartres, or make just a Wilde.
Who? meanly lodg'd, beneath sepulchral Fence
Of native Fir and homely Workmanship,
This Tenure claims? with cross-resembled Bones,
And weeping Angels, painted on the Wood?
“Four lovely Babes,—with their dead Mother, snatch'd
“By hasty Fate in Childbed's dolorous Pangs.”
Ah! happy Mother! happy Family!—
—Yet must I weep—some few, some humane Drops.
In pity—to a Father's, Husband's loss!—
Your Number, (with the Circumstance) recal
My own sad Loss, still felt!—some Tears I weep,
Yet are they Tears of Joy.—Safe prove thy Rest
Fair, Parent-Shade! and ye, blest Innocents!
Ah! sweetly sleep. Your heavenly Sire of such
Elects his Kingdom. That bright Multitude
On the new Sion view'd by raptur'd John
In holy Vision ; in whose blameless Mouths
(Acknowledg'd without Fault) was found no Guile.
Emanuel's Purchase, the first Fruits from Earth
Redeem'd to God, his choicest Virgin Train.
—Rich Consolation, in few Words express'd,
(At the coarse Foot of this plain Tablet wrote)
This Motto gives; “Not lost, but gone Before. .”
Of native Fir and homely Workmanship,
This Tenure claims? with cross-resembled Bones,
And weeping Angels, painted on the Wood?
“Four lovely Babes,—with their dead Mother, snatch'd
“By hasty Fate in Childbed's dolorous Pangs.”
Ah! happy Mother! happy Family!—
—Yet must I weep—some few, some humane Drops.
134
Your Number, (with the Circumstance) recal
My own sad Loss, still felt!—some Tears I weep,
Yet are they Tears of Joy.—Safe prove thy Rest
Fair, Parent-Shade! and ye, blest Innocents!
Ah! sweetly sleep. Your heavenly Sire of such
Elects his Kingdom. That bright Multitude
On the new Sion view'd by raptur'd John
In holy Vision ; in whose blameless Mouths
(Acknowledg'd without Fault) was found no Guile.
Emanuel's Purchase, the first Fruits from Earth
Redeem'd to God, his choicest Virgin Train.
—Rich Consolation, in few Words express'd,
(At the coarse Foot of this plain Tablet wrote)
This Motto gives; “Not lost, but gone Before. .”
135
What Fragments of insculptur'd Marble these?
Thus scatter'd? thus in Heaps neglected cast?
The lordly Ruins of oblivious Time?
What do I read!—come here! come here! and learn,
Imperious Pride! what says th' insidious Stone?
“Here lies the noble.”—Here? hah! where? where lies?
Show, if thou canst? where rests th' illustrious Peer?
—Behold! behold him! from his Bed of State,
His sack'd Mausoleum, dragg'd, disturb'd, and thrown.
Mix'd with each Puddle, whirl'd by every Gale,
Or, undistinguish'd from Plebean Dirt,
Spurn'd unconcernedly, by each Peasant's Heel.
O madness of Ambition! vain, vain hope
Of Honours, meerly gain'd from Names, or Blood!
Unstable Structures, not by Merit rear'd
On Virtue's Basis: durable alone.
Thus scatter'd? thus in Heaps neglected cast?
The lordly Ruins of oblivious Time?
What do I read!—come here! come here! and learn,
Imperious Pride! what says th' insidious Stone?
“Here lies the noble.”—Here? hah! where? where lies?
Show, if thou canst? where rests th' illustrious Peer?
—Behold! behold him! from his Bed of State,
His sack'd Mausoleum, dragg'd, disturb'd, and thrown.
Mix'd with each Puddle, whirl'd by every Gale,
Or, undistinguish'd from Plebean Dirt,
Spurn'd unconcernedly, by each Peasant's Heel.
O madness of Ambition! vain, vain hope
Of Honours, meerly gain'd from Names, or Blood!
Unstable Structures, not by Merit rear'd
On Virtue's Basis: durable alone.
Yet—where is he? what more than Parian Bust,
Labour'd with costliest Art, directs my Eye
To find the Man, the Man? Ah rather sure
The Angel in that Form! who late below,
Thro' long Eclipse of gloomiest Poverty,
Look'd, yet, so lovely from his suffering Sphere.
His life, a Soil where ev'ry heavenly Grace
In their full Clusters grew. Zeal, warm while meek
By Charity: A Piety most rais'd
Yet, an Humility most deep abas'd:
Most Patience in worst want: The worthiest, best,
Of Christians be, of Fathers, Husbands, Friends.
—My Feet have trac'd him out, I recollect
The once-known Spot—and liest thou, liest thou here?
In this poor Shrine, obscure, of Filth and Weeds!
Worthy in noblest Pyramid to rest
Of Brass or Gold: whom, claim'd in Skies anon,
Bright hov'ring Seraphs shall with Songs attend.
—Wait!—sweetly rested.—So may some kind Turf
Hide my mean Dust, deserted and forgot;
Wrong'd with no Monumental Flattery.
Thou pitying Mother, Earth! ah! when? when? when?
Shall this try'd Child of Griefs his care-sick Head,
(Weary'd with Woes and Frailty) gently sink
On thy Grave's kind, cold Pillow? there to rest
Fresh for his Bridal, Resurrection-Morn?
Period of wish'd Perfection! why recoils
My shudd'ring Flesh, at Dissolution's Name?
Our Entrance into Life may reconcile
The Thought, to Death: entomb'd, before we're born,
A living Death; in the Maternal Grave.
Death, from the very Cradle, early wooes
Our timorous Childhood by his Image Sleep;
And lectures Manhood in his nightly School.
“But Guilt wakes Fears?”—yet, points a lenient Balm.
Look to the bloody Cross! behold thy Cure!
To Calv'ry go! view his Aceldema,
That sanguine Field! where Death my Saviour fought
A Victor bath'd in Gore! and vanquish'd there
That All devourer, foul, of Human Race.
He conquer'd Sin, by Sufferings, Pains by Smart,
And Death, by dying: In his Conflict, there,
Conquer'd for thee, and by his Vict'ry, made
That stingless Monster his Believer's Friend.
Sing, ransom'd Worms! ye Pris'ners, glad, of hope,
Shout, shout his Triumphs; your Deliverer's Praise.
Labour'd with costliest Art, directs my Eye
To find the Man, the Man? Ah rather sure
The Angel in that Form! who late below,
Thro' long Eclipse of gloomiest Poverty,
Look'd, yet, so lovely from his suffering Sphere.
His life, a Soil where ev'ry heavenly Grace
In their full Clusters grew. Zeal, warm while meek
136
Yet, an Humility most deep abas'd:
Most Patience in worst want: The worthiest, best,
Of Christians be, of Fathers, Husbands, Friends.
—My Feet have trac'd him out, I recollect
The once-known Spot—and liest thou, liest thou here?
In this poor Shrine, obscure, of Filth and Weeds!
Worthy in noblest Pyramid to rest
Of Brass or Gold: whom, claim'd in Skies anon,
Bright hov'ring Seraphs shall with Songs attend.
—Wait!—sweetly rested.—So may some kind Turf
Hide my mean Dust, deserted and forgot;
Wrong'd with no Monumental Flattery.
Thou pitying Mother, Earth! ah! when? when? when?
Shall this try'd Child of Griefs his care-sick Head,
(Weary'd with Woes and Frailty) gently sink
On thy Grave's kind, cold Pillow? there to rest
Fresh for his Bridal, Resurrection-Morn?
Period of wish'd Perfection! why recoils
My shudd'ring Flesh, at Dissolution's Name?
Our Entrance into Life may reconcile
The Thought, to Death: entomb'd, before we're born,
A living Death; in the Maternal Grave.
Death, from the very Cradle, early wooes
Our timorous Childhood by his Image Sleep;
137
“But Guilt wakes Fears?”—yet, points a lenient Balm.
Look to the bloody Cross! behold thy Cure!
To Calv'ry go! view his Aceldema,
That sanguine Field! where Death my Saviour fought
A Victor bath'd in Gore! and vanquish'd there
That All devourer, foul, of Human Race.
He conquer'd Sin, by Sufferings, Pains by Smart,
And Death, by dying: In his Conflict, there,
Conquer'd for thee, and by his Vict'ry, made
That stingless Monster his Believer's Friend.
Sing, ransom'd Worms! ye Pris'ners, glad, of hope,
Shout, shout his Triumphs; your Deliverer's Praise.
But O!—O what remains?—a Throne! a Crown!
For us! base Aliens! us! his Murderers won!
With him deputed Heirs, joint-heirs of Heaven!
O! Pow'r, Fruit, Gift of strange mysterious Grace!
Abyss! when sathom'd, but more lost—to view
A prime Arch-Angel from his golden Orb
Fall'n, to a Fiend! a Human Reptile, vile!
Rais'd from a frail, weak Infant of a Span,
(Guilty as weak) to fill his vacant Throne!
And is this Glory mine? It is! it is!
O, false Humility! thou Vice disguis'd
In specious Dress, of proud, infernal Die,
Thou loud Blasphemer of the Truth of Heav'n!
That dares the Promise, dares the Oath of God
Discountenance, by unbelieving Fear.
These Glories all are mine! as sure in Pledge,
As if possess'd; when Death the Hour of Joy,
That waited, wish'd-for Hour! shall minister
My large Induction. Sad, distrustful Heart,
No longer droop! live, royaly my Hope!
On the full, safe Reversion! O, exult
My Faith! my Love! my heavenly-rais'd Desire!
My holy Gratitude!—in ev'ry State,
In ev'ry View, my Whole of Being blest!
Amply while living; amplest, when I die!
For us! base Aliens! us! his Murderers won!
With him deputed Heirs, joint-heirs of Heaven!
O! Pow'r, Fruit, Gift of strange mysterious Grace!
Abyss! when sathom'd, but more lost—to view
A prime Arch-Angel from his golden Orb
Fall'n, to a Fiend! a Human Reptile, vile!
Rais'd from a frail, weak Infant of a Span,
(Guilty as weak) to fill his vacant Throne!
And is this Glory mine? It is! it is!
O, false Humility! thou Vice disguis'd
In specious Dress, of proud, infernal Die,
138
That dares the Promise, dares the Oath of God
Discountenance, by unbelieving Fear.
These Glories all are mine! as sure in Pledge,
As if possess'd; when Death the Hour of Joy,
That waited, wish'd-for Hour! shall minister
My large Induction. Sad, distrustful Heart,
No longer droop! live, royaly my Hope!
On the full, safe Reversion! O, exult
My Faith! my Love! my heavenly-rais'd Desire!
My holy Gratitude!—in ev'ry State,
In ev'ry View, my Whole of Being blest!
Amply while living; amplest, when I die!
I quit th' affecting Place, inciting Themes
Of too o'er-pressing Weight for mortal Powers.
Here let my Thoughts divert awhile; to mark
This peopled Rookery: All Abroad on Wing,
Each with their several Families employ'd;
Training to Industry their callow Broods.
To Man how moral! loud it speaks to Man:
Man may learn here, that Indolent! his Work,
His Duties Task: of helpless Progeny
The Care, and Erudition's tender Toil.
Man may learn here, that Infidel! to place
On Providence his Trust: These all depend
On its free Almonry: “Wide dost thou stretch,
Preserver kind! thy lib'ral shedding Hand,
Munificent, and with Profusion fill,
Of ev'ry living Thing, the large Desire.”
More useful Lesson yet to Man they teach,
To Atheist Man, that Monster Rational!
One obvious Lesson more important still:
Pray'r Nature's Instinct, innate to the Soul,
A Tax of Homage on Creation laid,
The general Bond on universal Life.
Their morning Orisons, their Vespers loud
These teach their Young; The Infant Suppliants cry,
And ask their Meat from God: how sweetly, hark!
Sound their Responses! how devout the Charm!—
—And see, the sporting Minstrels! how in Troops
They make Excursion; now divide, now join
Their sable Columns; travel and return;
Yet never jostle in their mazy Flight.
While quick observing, thro' their lofty Camp,
Their planted Centinel gives warning Signs.
Strange Intuition!—cheaply tenanted
Free, and at Ease they dwell: content each Day
With Nature's Dole, and blest with careless Sleeps,
Hous'd in their skiey Chambers, rock'd by Winds.
Ah! happy Freemen! ye, your Fields of Air
Hold common with ye all. Man, tyrant Lord!
Parcels his Speck of Earth, to each small Spot.
(Counting mean Self the whole) lays private Claim!
And yokes in servile Toils his vassal'd Kind,
Distinguish'd scarcely from the vassal'd Brute;
Pre-eminenc'd alone, by Birth, in Woe.
But lo! a stately Mansion, breaks at once
From this short Visto, on th' attracted Eye.
Hush'd in deep Silence seem the Houshold Trains:
Sunk all, inconscious, in Sleep's wilful Death.
Opiate, when us'd undue from Sloth's foul Cup,
To wreck Self-murder on the Heav'n-born Thought.
Ye Throngs loquacious! with more clamorous Croaks,
Call! louder, to these fascinated Roofs,
And start th' obscene, Day-dreamers up to Shame.
Of too o'er-pressing Weight for mortal Powers.
Here let my Thoughts divert awhile; to mark
This peopled Rookery: All Abroad on Wing,
Each with their several Families employ'd;
Training to Industry their callow Broods.
To Man how moral! loud it speaks to Man:
Man may learn here, that Indolent! his Work,
His Duties Task: of helpless Progeny
The Care, and Erudition's tender Toil.
Man may learn here, that Infidel! to place
On Providence his Trust: These all depend
On its free Almonry: “Wide dost thou stretch,
Preserver kind! thy lib'ral shedding Hand,
139
Of ev'ry living Thing, the large Desire.”
More useful Lesson yet to Man they teach,
To Atheist Man, that Monster Rational!
One obvious Lesson more important still:
Pray'r Nature's Instinct, innate to the Soul,
A Tax of Homage on Creation laid,
The general Bond on universal Life.
Their morning Orisons, their Vespers loud
These teach their Young; The Infant Suppliants cry,
And ask their Meat from God: how sweetly, hark!
Sound their Responses! how devout the Charm!—
—And see, the sporting Minstrels! how in Troops
They make Excursion; now divide, now join
Their sable Columns; travel and return;
Yet never jostle in their mazy Flight.
While quick observing, thro' their lofty Camp,
Their planted Centinel gives warning Signs.
Strange Intuition!—cheaply tenanted
Free, and at Ease they dwell: content each Day
With Nature's Dole, and blest with careless Sleeps,
Hous'd in their skiey Chambers, rock'd by Winds.
Ah! happy Freemen! ye, your Fields of Air
Hold common with ye all. Man, tyrant Lord!
Parcels his Speck of Earth, to each small Spot.
(Counting mean Self the whole) lays private Claim!
140
Distinguish'd scarcely from the vassal'd Brute;
Pre-eminenc'd alone, by Birth, in Woe.
But lo! a stately Mansion, breaks at once
From this short Visto, on th' attracted Eye.
Hush'd in deep Silence seem the Houshold Trains:
Sunk all, inconscious, in Sleep's wilful Death.
Opiate, when us'd undue from Sloth's foul Cup,
To wreck Self-murder on the Heav'n-born Thought.
Ye Throngs loquacious! with more clamorous Croaks,
Call! louder, to these fascinated Roofs,
And start th' obscene, Day-dreamers up to Shame.
Where am I brought in inobservant Range,
By Meditation's Hand led gently on?
An Eden sure, a new, lost Paradise,
Seems in this blissful Privacy restor'd!
Here let me sit: alluring is the Scene,
Where the gay Bank spreads, soft, its native Couch
Of velvet Verdures, and embroid'ring Flowers.
The passing Zephirs from their loaded Wings
Lodge their stol'n Fragance here, a Hive of Sweets:
Cull'd from the new-cock'd Hay, and blossom'd Bean
And honied Woodbine; that with twisting Arms
Weds her lov'd Elm in this dark Nuptial Bow'r.
In whose cool Cov'ring sits the piping Breeze,
With Birds symphonious answ'ring from the Boughs.
While, in blue Sedge, and rustic Osier clad,
Close at my Foot a River gently strays:
It's Murmurs rolling to a neighb'ring Wood.
Beneath whose quiv'ring Shade, the sunny Beams
Dance on the checquer'd Stream, with shifting Light;
And in its Mirrour show the finny Tribes,
That o'er the shining Pebbles make their Chase.
And, farther off, appears again at large
The wand'ring Current; turning oft aside
His Husband-Flood to kiss the Consort-Mead;
And with her Offspring play, of smiling Flowers.
He, from his wealthy Affluence, pleas'd relieves
A thousand happy Objects in his Way;
Yet, his own, kindred Banks leaves ever full.
Rich in his Fountain, like the lib'ral Hand,
He gains by giving: and his crystal Breast
Grows, by his Alms dispens'd, more sweet and pure.
While (like vast, standing Lakes) contracted Minds
Pent up, amassing for themselves alone,
Infectious turn: more fœtid by their Store.
How, all unchang'd, by Lengths of Ages past,
These silver Tides have kept their stated Course!
The Sea, that takes their Tributes, feeds their Springs.
While proudest Tow'rs, that once these Banks adorn'd,
Long since, are moulder'd in their pristine Dust.
Strange Contradiction! Things in flux, their Forms
Hold permanent; Things fix'd, by Time expire.
Just so, the restless Soul that ever moves
Tow'rd God its Centre, from his Ocean finds
Encreas'd Supplies; when Carnalists, on self
Proud-settling, feel their false Foundations sapp'd—
Sunk—in their own Dilapidations lost.
By Meditation's Hand led gently on?
An Eden sure, a new, lost Paradise,
Seems in this blissful Privacy restor'd!
Here let me sit: alluring is the Scene,
Where the gay Bank spreads, soft, its native Couch
Of velvet Verdures, and embroid'ring Flowers.
The passing Zephirs from their loaded Wings
Lodge their stol'n Fragance here, a Hive of Sweets:
Cull'd from the new-cock'd Hay, and blossom'd Bean
And honied Woodbine; that with twisting Arms
Weds her lov'd Elm in this dark Nuptial Bow'r.
In whose cool Cov'ring sits the piping Breeze,
With Birds symphonious answ'ring from the Boughs.
141
Close at my Foot a River gently strays:
It's Murmurs rolling to a neighb'ring Wood.
Beneath whose quiv'ring Shade, the sunny Beams
Dance on the checquer'd Stream, with shifting Light;
142
That o'er the shining Pebbles make their Chase.
143
The wand'ring Current; turning oft aside
His Husband-Flood to kiss the Consort-Mead;
And with her Offspring play, of smiling Flowers.
He, from his wealthy Affluence, pleas'd relieves
A thousand happy Objects in his Way;
Yet, his own, kindred Banks leaves ever full.
Rich in his Fountain, like the lib'ral Hand,
He gains by giving: and his crystal Breast
Grows, by his Alms dispens'd, more sweet and pure.
While (like vast, standing Lakes) contracted Minds
Pent up, amassing for themselves alone,
Infectious turn: more fœtid by their Store.
How, all unchang'd, by Lengths of Ages past,
These silver Tides have kept their stated Course!
The Sea, that takes their Tributes, feeds their Springs.
While proudest Tow'rs, that once these Banks adorn'd,
Long since, are moulder'd in their pristine Dust.
Strange Contradiction! Things in flux, their Forms
Hold permanent; Things fix'd, by Time expire.
Just so, the restless Soul that ever moves
Tow'rd God its Centre, from his Ocean finds
Encreas'd Supplies; when Carnalists, on self
Proud-settling, feel their false Foundations sapp'd—
Sunk—in their own Dilapidations lost.
144
The Vale has catch'd my Eye; where thro' the Brake,
At Distance-small descry'd, a spacious Waste
Of stateliest Ruins tempts my Feet away.
Long desolate: in superstitious Times
An Abbey fair; with wandring-Cloysters-large,
And Tow'rs broad-rear'd, and entring-Arches-wide,
And Walks, long-bowring once, of sweetest Shade,
All winding pleasant by a fishy Stream.
Ah! happy Country! from thy dreadful Thrall
Releas'd; of Errour's Night, and mental Chains.
Christ and his Truths were lost: our bigot Sires
In the dark Chambers of their Imag'ry,
Serv'd Idols: falsly deifying thee
Mary, blest Virgin (blest, tho' unador'd)
Stil'd, Queen of Heaven, and Mother (strange!) of God.
Plain Name of Blasphemy; when Mother, pure,
Not of Christ's Godhead, but of Christ the Man.
Then Mediator Saints (some, while on Earth
Least saintly) were invok'd; while he, pronounc'd
Sole Mediator, with his Righteousness
By Faith alone imputed, was displac'd
For legal Works of Merit; falsly taught
To justify: Rome's gainful Mart for Gold.
Crafts, to serve priestly Av'rice, Pride and Pow'r.
And, are there who that vile detested Yoke
Wou'd re-impose
, by vain un-gospel Rites?
Who Souls misled wou'd on Repentance rest
For Life? and Duties of defective Law?
Hirelings? that make for Gain the Saviour's Church
A worldly Kingdom? that meer Titles seek?
And hunt for carnal Profits, Sloth, and Ease,
In rich Pluralities! who famish'd leave
The pining Flock, and cloath them with their Wool?
Lord of thy Israel! these intruding Wolves
Cast from thy Fold!—to dress thy Vineyard send
Try'd, faithful Labourers by blest Lucre mov'd,
Large Wages seeking in, not for, their Work.
Holy, Regenerate, Humble;—deep, best learn'd,
From inward Teachings, in thy Spirit's School.
Striving, alone, who most with Zeal, with Love
Shall burn for Jesus, in their Toils for Men.
At Distance-small descry'd, a spacious Waste
Of stateliest Ruins tempts my Feet away.
Long desolate: in superstitious Times
An Abbey fair; with wandring-Cloysters-large,
And Tow'rs broad-rear'd, and entring-Arches-wide,
And Walks, long-bowring once, of sweetest Shade,
All winding pleasant by a fishy Stream.
Ah! happy Country! from thy dreadful Thrall
Releas'd; of Errour's Night, and mental Chains.
Christ and his Truths were lost: our bigot Sires
In the dark Chambers of their Imag'ry,
Serv'd Idols: falsly deifying thee
Mary, blest Virgin (blest, tho' unador'd)
Stil'd, Queen of Heaven, and Mother (strange!) of God.
Plain Name of Blasphemy; when Mother, pure,
Not of Christ's Godhead, but of Christ the Man.
Then Mediator Saints (some, while on Earth
Least saintly) were invok'd; while he, pronounc'd
Sole Mediator, with his Righteousness
By Faith alone imputed, was displac'd
For legal Works of Merit; falsly taught
To justify: Rome's gainful Mart for Gold.
Crafts, to serve priestly Av'rice, Pride and Pow'r.
And, are there who that vile detested Yoke
145
Who Souls misled wou'd on Repentance rest
146
Hirelings? that make for Gain the Saviour's Church
A worldly Kingdom? that meer Titles seek?
And hunt for carnal Profits, Sloth, and Ease,
In rich Pluralities! who famish'd leave
The pining Flock, and cloath them with their Wool?
Lord of thy Israel! these intruding Wolves
Cast from thy Fold!—to dress thy Vineyard send
Try'd, faithful Labourers by blest Lucre mov'd,
Large Wages seeking in, not for, their Work.
Holy, Regenerate, Humble;—deep, best learn'd,
From inward Teachings, in thy Spirit's School.
Striving, alone, who most with Zeal, with Love
Shall burn for Jesus, in their Toils for Men.
What sudden Warnings give the must'ring Clouds
That lour, tempestuous, in the alter'd Air?
Beasts their close Coverts, Birds their shadiest Trees
Affrighted seek, the March of instant Storm
Presaging sure. It points this Way—'tis come!
Deep groans th' Ear-rending Thunder, that compels
My speedy Flight: For Shelter, poorly sought
Amid these bowing Roofs, and dropping Walls;
And dark sunk Caverns, for the Foot unsafe:
The Toads foul Nurs'ry, and the drear Resort
Of lurking Adders, and th' ill-boding Owl.
Thro' whose torn Clefts the haunting Echoes rave
With Peals more horrid, and of hoarser roar.
Hark! how the Rains in streaming Torrents burst!
While livid flash the mix'd sulphureous Flames,
Soon follow'd by new Vollies from the Skies.
A dreadful fight of jarring Elements:
The Strife of Waters, with the Rage of Fire.
In that one Voice, now rais'd, what Terrors spoke!
Again!—more loud it grows.—And shall I fear
A Father's Thunder? will his lightning harm
A Child? a Fav'rite? in his fond, fond Heart
Lodg'd, watch'd, remember'd; by as quick a Sense
As the touch'd Pupil of the feeling Eye.
Are not his Angels here? my royal Guard
On kind Commission sent. Himself is here!
Himself! in ev'ry State of Conflict found
My help! my Saviour, nigh! my present God!
And shall I fear? tho' Nature swift were seiz'd
With her expiring Pang; tho' Hell should arm,
And hemm'd I stood, with ghastliest Furies round?
Roar on, ye Thunders! flash, ye Lightnings now!
On this untrembling Breast! 'mid all your Threats,
Compos'd to sweetest Peace; while calm'd, assur'd,
By the felt Pledges, of a Father's Love.
—Try, Unbeliever! how thy Bulrush-Hope
Will bear thee; in an Hour of stormy Fears;
In Calm, in Courage like the Christian's Trust!
That lour, tempestuous, in the alter'd Air?
147
Affrighted seek, the March of instant Storm
Presaging sure. It points this Way—'tis come!
Deep groans th' Ear-rending Thunder, that compels
My speedy Flight: For Shelter, poorly sought
Amid these bowing Roofs, and dropping Walls;
And dark sunk Caverns, for the Foot unsafe:
The Toads foul Nurs'ry, and the drear Resort
Of lurking Adders, and th' ill-boding Owl.
Thro' whose torn Clefts the haunting Echoes rave
With Peals more horrid, and of hoarser roar.
Hark! how the Rains in streaming Torrents burst!
While livid flash the mix'd sulphureous Flames,
Soon follow'd by new Vollies from the Skies.
A dreadful fight of jarring Elements:
The Strife of Waters, with the Rage of Fire.
In that one Voice, now rais'd, what Terrors spoke!
Again!—more loud it grows.—And shall I fear
A Father's Thunder? will his lightning harm
A Child? a Fav'rite? in his fond, fond Heart
Lodg'd, watch'd, remember'd; by as quick a Sense
As the touch'd Pupil of the feeling Eye.
Are not his Angels here? my royal Guard
On kind Commission sent. Himself is here!
Himself! in ev'ry State of Conflict found
My help! my Saviour, nigh! my present God!
And shall I fear? tho' Nature swift were seiz'd
With her expiring Pang; tho' Hell should arm,
148
Roar on, ye Thunders! flash, ye Lightnings now!
On this untrembling Breast! 'mid all your Threats,
Compos'd to sweetest Peace; while calm'd, assur'd,
By the felt Pledges, of a Father's Love.
—Try, Unbeliever! how thy Bulrush-Hope
Will bear thee; in an Hour of stormy Fears;
In Calm, in Courage like the Christian's Trust!
The Wreck comes near, in that thick, dun-red Cloud,
Full o'er my Head impended: big, and low.
Guard, gracious Heav'n! how direful was that Crack!
As if Earth's Poles were rift, and in her Doom
Heav'ns whole Artillery was discharg'd at once.
And—hah!—behold, the Havock, see this Oak
Close at my Side! that, but a Moment past,
Stretch'd his proud, vaunting Arms, himself a Wood,
Long Proof to all, the Elemental War:
Scath'd by the nitrous Blast, his knotted Trunk
In mangled Fragments strew'd, torshivers riv'd;
With all his antient Honours laid in Dust!—
So near its Fate, why miss'd the fiery Death
In my pierc'd Heart to drink the vital Stream?
Thy Care, all watchful, thy love rescuing Arm,
Preserver dear! in prostrate Homage prais'd.
Fix, the deep Voice of Providence, my Thoughts
Of thy vindictive Pow'r. Whose less alarm
London! thy shook Metropolis has felt,
(Oh! had it shook more Hearts!) which, yet so fresh,
Suggests a Theme, not devious, for my song.
Full o'er my Head impended: big, and low.
Guard, gracious Heav'n! how direful was that Crack!
As if Earth's Poles were rift, and in her Doom
Heav'ns whole Artillery was discharg'd at once.
And—hah!—behold, the Havock, see this Oak
Close at my Side! that, but a Moment past,
Stretch'd his proud, vaunting Arms, himself a Wood,
Long Proof to all, the Elemental War:
Scath'd by the nitrous Blast, his knotted Trunk
In mangled Fragments strew'd, torshivers riv'd;
With all his antient Honours laid in Dust!—
So near its Fate, why miss'd the fiery Death
In my pierc'd Heart to drink the vital Stream?
Thy Care, all watchful, thy love rescuing Arm,
Preserver dear! in prostrate Homage prais'd.
Fix, the deep Voice of Providence, my Thoughts
Of thy vindictive Pow'r. Whose less alarm
149
(Oh! had it shook more Hearts!) which, yet so fresh,
Suggests a Theme, not devious, for my song.
Still rose the Morn; Security had lull'd,
The flatter'd Sons of Vice in false Repose.
Heav'n of its dread Intent no Portents gave;
Ah! too, too obvious in our gen'ral Crimes.
Pleasure had lent to Time her silken Wings;
And, to her Syrens, danc'd his wanton Hours,
Thoughtless of Change. Mirth wore her liveliest Smile,
And Ease sat; listless, on Augusta's Walls.
When, instantaneous, Earth's huge, cumb'rous Mass
Heav'd, with strange Pang, and deep resounds her Groan.
All, at the signal, rouse—but stretch them soon
In Folly's dallying Lap, and hush their Fear.
The Month her Circle had in Pastimes clos'd,
Again—another—a repeated Shock,
A louder Voice, of Horror more severe,
Starts the dead Slumb'rers from their impious Dream.
Where sly the threaten'd Wretches? where? where, now,
For wish'd Relief?—To suppliant Penitence?
To Fasts? to Mournings? to the House of Pray'r?
A Posture due—Ah! no. To Plays! to Sports!
To midnight Revels! nearest match'd in Guilt
To those of Fiends; the Jubilee of Hell!
Hear it not, Strangers! our Disgrace outbraves
All Parallel; in two, amazing Days!
On each, an Earthquake! and on each a Ball!
The flatter'd Sons of Vice in false Repose.
Heav'n of its dread Intent no Portents gave;
Ah! too, too obvious in our gen'ral Crimes.
Pleasure had lent to Time her silken Wings;
And, to her Syrens, danc'd his wanton Hours,
Thoughtless of Change. Mirth wore her liveliest Smile,
And Ease sat; listless, on Augusta's Walls.
When, instantaneous, Earth's huge, cumb'rous Mass
Heav'd, with strange Pang, and deep resounds her Groan.
All, at the signal, rouse—but stretch them soon
In Folly's dallying Lap, and hush their Fear.
The Month her Circle had in Pastimes clos'd,
Again—another—a repeated Shock,
A louder Voice, of Horror more severe,
Starts the dead Slumb'rers from their impious Dream.
Where sly the threaten'd Wretches? where? where, now,
For wish'd Relief?—To suppliant Penitence?
To Fasts? to Mournings? to the House of Pray'r?
A Posture due—Ah! no. To Plays! to Sports!
To midnight Revels! nearest match'd in Guilt
150
Hear it not, Strangers! our Disgrace outbraves
All Parallel; in two, amazing Days!
On each, an Earthquake! and on each a Ball!
Has Man his Hours in charge? important trust!
All lent? all number'd? all with duty tax'd?
In Sloth to rust? in Luxury to waste?
To lose, in sensual Feculence, at will?
Like hardy Gamesters, desp'rate in their Play!
What are their rank Amours? that dare the Sun
In Day's broad Eye? amid the num'rous Stews
(Affronting, with Impunity, our Streets?)
Of shameless Youth the fashionable Schools?
All Order, Ties, Relations, Heav'n's wise Law
Made the Drole's laugh, and broke, for Modes of Sin.
What are their Meetings, at the swinish Board
Of boasted Fellowship, their roaring Bands!
But Circe's Monsters, wallowing o'er their Trough?
What, their Assemblies? for Politeness fam'd!
Nurs'ries of Pride, and leud Intrigue, and fraud
In lavish Play; base lust, of furtive Gold!
Health, Innocence, and precious Minutes, lost!
Immortal Minds amus'd o'er painted Toys!—
View it not, Angels! to enhance your Scorn
Of Man; already in your Sight too mean.
All lent? all number'd? all with duty tax'd?
In Sloth to rust? in Luxury to waste?
To lose, in sensual Feculence, at will?
Like hardy Gamesters, desp'rate in their Play!
What are their rank Amours? that dare the Sun
In Day's broad Eye? amid the num'rous Stews
(Affronting, with Impunity, our Streets?)
Of shameless Youth the fashionable Schools?
All Order, Ties, Relations, Heav'n's wise Law
Made the Drole's laugh, and broke, for Modes of Sin.
What are their Meetings, at the swinish Board
Of boasted Fellowship, their roaring Bands!
But Circe's Monsters, wallowing o'er their Trough?
What, their Assemblies? for Politeness fam'd!
Nurs'ries of Pride, and leud Intrigue, and fraud
In lavish Play; base lust, of furtive Gold!
Health, Innocence, and precious Minutes, lost!
Immortal Minds amus'd o'er painted Toys!—
View it not, Angels! to enhance your Scorn
Of Man; already in your Sight too mean.
151
Oh—Britain!—oh!—maternal, weeping Land!
These are thy Christians! sham'd by Pagan Climes,
These thy sad Prospects! this thy hopeless Race!
Mature for Ruin!—should the dreaded Blow
Seize them, immers'd in Acts of daring Sin!
Should Heav'n its Scenes of Horror, then, disclose;
The yawning Earth! sunk Street! and cracking Pile!
—Hark!—'tis at Hand!—prepare to meet thy God!
Thy God, O Britain! thy tremendous Judge!
Thy Judge incens'd! Omnipotence in Wrath!
A dreadful Foe! he speaks—but spares the Stroke;
Love wrests the Vengeance from his lifted Arm.
O, timely be attentive! hear! hear! hear
His monitory Voice! his awful, loud,
Yet gentle Call!—mild Saviour! friend of Man!
Pour, in large Streams, thy soft'ning Spirit down,
To melt the native Rock of human Hearts!
Dear, bleeding Advocate! our hapless State
Commiserate, all gracious; bow thy Ear
Pitying to suppliant Dust! thy People's Pray'rs,
The Matrons Tears, our Infants helpless Cries,
Invoke thee, “Oh, avert! avert our Doom!”
These are thy Christians! sham'd by Pagan Climes,
These thy sad Prospects! this thy hopeless Race!
Mature for Ruin!—should the dreaded Blow
Seize them, immers'd in Acts of daring Sin!
Should Heav'n its Scenes of Horror, then, disclose;
The yawning Earth! sunk Street! and cracking Pile!
—Hark!—'tis at Hand!—prepare to meet thy God!
Thy God, O Britain! thy tremendous Judge!
Thy Judge incens'd! Omnipotence in Wrath!
A dreadful Foe! he speaks—but spares the Stroke;
Love wrests the Vengeance from his lifted Arm.
O, timely be attentive! hear! hear! hear
His monitory Voice! his awful, loud,
Yet gentle Call!—mild Saviour! friend of Man!
Pour, in large Streams, thy soft'ning Spirit down,
To melt the native Rock of human Hearts!
Dear, bleeding Advocate! our hapless State
Commiserate, all gracious; bow thy Ear
Pitying to suppliant Dust! thy People's Pray'rs,
The Matrons Tears, our Infants helpless Cries,
Invoke thee, “Oh, avert! avert our Doom!”
The Storm is ceas'd—The Thunders know their God,
And still their roar. O! how severe is felt
His Frown in Nature, tho' his Frown of Love!
Each Prospect mourns! from all the languid Tribe
Of weeping Flow'rs, and ev'ry dripping Tree.
Soon shall your short-soil'd Beauties be repair'd,
By glossier Lustres, and more spic'd Perfumes,
For see! the Sun his fresh-refulgent Rays
Pours on the Skirt of yon soft fleecy Cloud
That form a shadowy Arch of dazzling Lifts:
Gay Yellow, emerald-Green, and morning-Red,
Aurora's Blush; a shining Zone, engrain'd
In Tints of Heav'n. With whose sweet Aspect pleas'd,
God (in remembrance of sworn Amity
With Earth established, and perpetual League,)
Gracious will look; his Cov'nant-Symbol own'd
Of Peace, and full-exterminated Ire.
Birds raise their joyous Song; and Flocks and Kine
Thro' the shower'd Meads for savoury Banquet roam.
All is a State of Love, no Quarrels here
Divide the diff'rent Polities: The Boar
Feeds at full Range beside the Labourer Ox,
With the tame Steed the Lamb free Pastures share,
Man only, Feud foments, proud, factious Man,
The Savage, lordly Wrangler of the World.
And still their roar. O! how severe is felt
His Frown in Nature, tho' his Frown of Love!
152
Of weeping Flow'rs, and ev'ry dripping Tree.
Soon shall your short-soil'd Beauties be repair'd,
By glossier Lustres, and more spic'd Perfumes,
For see! the Sun his fresh-refulgent Rays
Pours on the Skirt of yon soft fleecy Cloud
That form a shadowy Arch of dazzling Lifts:
Gay Yellow, emerald-Green, and morning-Red,
Aurora's Blush; a shining Zone, engrain'd
In Tints of Heav'n. With whose sweet Aspect pleas'd,
God (in remembrance of sworn Amity
With Earth established, and perpetual League,)
Gracious will look; his Cov'nant-Symbol own'd
Of Peace, and full-exterminated Ire.
Birds raise their joyous Song; and Flocks and Kine
Thro' the shower'd Meads for savoury Banquet roam.
All is a State of Love, no Quarrels here
Divide the diff'rent Polities: The Boar
Feeds at full Range beside the Labourer Ox,
With the tame Steed the Lamb free Pastures share,
Man only, Feud foments, proud, factious Man,
The Savage, lordly Wrangler of the World.
Such pleas'd Surveys of Nature's wondrous Frame
Suit well the Sanctity of holiest Time;
And shall the Bigot, of censorious Stamp
The Christian brand? who, contemplating thus,
His early Lot or late of hallow'd Hours
In rural Wandrings spends? depriv'd the Means
Of Closet-Thought, by Circumstances strait
Of numerous Offspring, or the Want of Place
In Houshold Privacy. Acquiring here
(Besides a Mind, more sooth'd to heavenly Calm)
Brac'd Nerves, rais'd Appetite, and purer Blood:
The Tides fast pouring in of Health, and Joy.
Corp'ral with mental Good.—away! ye gloom'd,
O'er-rigid Race! stiff Pharisees in Creed!
Who gospel-Saints by sabbatary Forms
Would bind; that Vassalage of legal Rest.
Like me (e're hardness of degenerate Hearts
Compell'd strict Jewish-Law) in Hebron's Field
Accepted Isaac, at accustom'd Eve
Walk'd forth to meditate: and him ador'd
Lord of his Sabbath, Man's Exemplar blest,
He, (like his mean Disciple) thro' the Paths
Of tow'ring Corn, or some lone, shade-top'd Hill,
Took, social or apart, his devious Way.
Safe Rule: If not from him his Follower swerve.
Suit well the Sanctity of holiest Time;
And shall the Bigot, of censorious Stamp
153
His early Lot or late of hallow'd Hours
In rural Wandrings spends? depriv'd the Means
Of Closet-Thought, by Circumstances strait
Of numerous Offspring, or the Want of Place
In Houshold Privacy. Acquiring here
(Besides a Mind, more sooth'd to heavenly Calm)
Brac'd Nerves, rais'd Appetite, and purer Blood:
The Tides fast pouring in of Health, and Joy.
Corp'ral with mental Good.—away! ye gloom'd,
O'er-rigid Race! stiff Pharisees in Creed!
Who gospel-Saints by sabbatary Forms
Would bind; that Vassalage of legal Rest.
Like me (e're hardness of degenerate Hearts
Compell'd strict Jewish-Law) in Hebron's Field
Accepted Isaac, at accustom'd Eve
Walk'd forth to meditate: and him ador'd
Lord of his Sabbath, Man's Exemplar blest,
He, (like his mean Disciple) thro' the Paths
Of tow'ring Corn, or some lone, shade-top'd Hill,
Took, social or apart, his devious Way.
Safe Rule: If not from him his Follower swerve.
One Duty of the solemn Day is paid:
The meet Remembrance of Creation's Works.
But, Works more Godlike, more transcendent far,
(A weightier Debt, a dearer Duty still!)
Claim my full Sum of wondring, grateful Thoughts:
So ever, still, in paying ne'er to pay.
A World, miraculous like this, to make
A Word it cost! but one prolific Word!
But ah! th' Almighty Maker's Life itself
Was paid, that World from Ruin to redeem.
God stoop'd to Suffrings, for his Creature's Sin!
Oh! that at once to him (tho' not in Grace
In Name resembling) thou to me would'st deign
(Hid in the Clift of thy spear-open'd Side)
In Trance thy passing Deity to view!—
See me, thou meek incarnate Majesty!
With aw'd Request bow'd deeper than in Dust:
And thy free Spirit send, they purchas'd Gift,
In my Mind's Glass the Vision to reveal:
Some faint, short Glimpse, thy Glories hindmost Parts,
My Morning-Wandrings last, but sweetest Theme.
The meet Remembrance of Creation's Works.
But, Works more Godlike, more transcendent far,
(A weightier Debt, a dearer Duty still!)
Claim my full Sum of wondring, grateful Thoughts:
154
A World, miraculous like this, to make
A Word it cost! but one prolific Word!
But ah! th' Almighty Maker's Life itself
Was paid, that World from Ruin to redeem.
God stoop'd to Suffrings, for his Creature's Sin!
Oh! that at once to him (tho' not in Grace
In Name resembling) thou to me would'st deign
(Hid in the Clift of thy spear-open'd Side)
In Trance thy passing Deity to view!—
See me, thou meek incarnate Majesty!
With aw'd Request bow'd deeper than in Dust:
And thy free Spirit send, they purchas'd Gift,
In my Mind's Glass the Vision to reveal:
Some faint, short Glimpse, thy Glories hindmost Parts,
My Morning-Wandrings last, but sweetest Theme.
What may not ransom'd Man provided see
In the rich Covenant , by Redemption wrought?
His whole of Bliss secur'd; the Means and End:
All his wish'd Blessings, treasur'd safe in thee
Thou, Lord of Angels! but the Sinners Friend!
Ah! more, his Kinsman, in fraternal Bonds!
Where shall the guilt-convicted Creature fly?
Scorch'd thro', and stunn'd, with thund'ring Sinai's Curse?
To Works? That Law, that first convinc'd of Sin!
The Dead to work? meer Carcass, void of Strength:
Shut up, long putrid, in Corruption's Grave.
“But he may seek to Mercy,”—Mercy! where?
The Sword of fiery Justice waving guards
That Gate, made inaccessible to Guilt.
Show, if thou canst, without a Ransom giv'n,
A Satisfaction adequate and full,
Show, in a Way becoming Deity,
Mercy with Justice reconcil'd to Man:
Join Truth, that threatens Punishment, with Love.
What must he do?—“In deep Repentance plung'd,
Cleans'd, and abluted come.”—Ah! proud Deceit!
Repentance is the Child of fruitful Faith:
Not its Progenitor, as falsly taught;
(Twin-Virtues, rather, in the heavenly Train.)
Come as thou canst: Just, loathsome as thou art;
For a free Pardon, held thee out by Grace.
Like the bare Prodigal in all thy Filth
Take the blest Boon!—me in my Blood he found,
(Blotted all thro' with ev'ry Spot of Hell,
Trembling, condemn'd, in my own Thoughts, undone)
And cleans'd me in the Fountain of his own.
With all my Fears, to him, when lost, I turn'd;
And felt him soon my Peace, and feel him still,
(With his abiding Unction richly show'r'd)
A vital Head of Influence own'd, to me
His meanest Member: a weak Foot, defil'd,
Of that blest Body; often warp'd aside,
And turn'd away. Like the Sap-gendring Vine
Nurt'ring his grafted Branch, from him I draw
Growth, Sustenance, and Fruits. Ev'n Ills I feel,
(Such, in their Nature) op'rating in Good.
Blest is Temptation (not provok'd nor sought)
That makes me but more watchful. Blest, I deem
Afflictions; helping in their Exercise
My Work of perfect Patience, Ev'n my Lusts,
The Strivings of my old Corruption blest;
That drive me more to Jesus, drive me there
For Purity and Strength; all stor'd in him.
Push'd off by hostile Legions, safe I stand
Safe in the Covenant; in that Hold secure.
That Hold! not mine of him, but his of me.
In the rich Covenant , by Redemption wrought?
His whole of Bliss secur'd; the Means and End:
All his wish'd Blessings, treasur'd safe in thee
Thou, Lord of Angels! but the Sinners Friend!
Ah! more, his Kinsman, in fraternal Bonds!
Where shall the guilt-convicted Creature fly?
155
To Works? That Law, that first convinc'd of Sin!
The Dead to work? meer Carcass, void of Strength:
Shut up, long putrid, in Corruption's Grave.
“But he may seek to Mercy,”—Mercy! where?
The Sword of fiery Justice waving guards
That Gate, made inaccessible to Guilt.
Show, if thou canst, without a Ransom giv'n,
A Satisfaction adequate and full,
Show, in a Way becoming Deity,
Mercy with Justice reconcil'd to Man:
Join Truth, that threatens Punishment, with Love.
What must he do?—“In deep Repentance plung'd,
Cleans'd, and abluted come.”—Ah! proud Deceit!
Repentance is the Child of fruitful Faith:
Not its Progenitor, as falsly taught;
(Twin-Virtues, rather, in the heavenly Train.)
Come as thou canst: Just, loathsome as thou art;
For a free Pardon, held thee out by Grace.
Like the bare Prodigal in all thy Filth
Take the blest Boon!—me in my Blood he found,
(Blotted all thro' with ev'ry Spot of Hell,
Trembling, condemn'd, in my own Thoughts, undone)
And cleans'd me in the Fountain of his own.
With all my Fears, to him, when lost, I turn'd;
156
(With his abiding Unction richly show'r'd)
A vital Head of Influence own'd, to me
His meanest Member: a weak Foot, defil'd,
Of that blest Body; often warp'd aside,
And turn'd away. Like the Sap-gendring Vine
Nurt'ring his grafted Branch, from him I draw
Growth, Sustenance, and Fruits. Ev'n Ills I feel,
(Such, in their Nature) op'rating in Good.
Blest is Temptation (not provok'd nor sought)
That makes me but more watchful. Blest, I deem
Afflictions; helping in their Exercise
My Work of perfect Patience, Ev'n my Lusts,
The Strivings of my old Corruption blest;
That drive me more to Jesus, drive me there
For Purity and Strength; all stor'd in him.
Push'd off by hostile Legions, safe I stand
Safe in the Covenant; in that Hold secure.
That Hold! not mine of him, but his of me.
And mayst thou not, Believer! clear'd, absolv'd,
Lov'd, sanctified, and seal'd, thy purchas'd Heav'n
By safe Assurance hold? and take thy Seat
Now , in celestial Places?—Gospel Sons
(Not shall, but do) have enter'd in that Rest .
Their present Privilege, tho' to most unknown.
“Who? what high Fav'rite, more than Man, enjoys
A Charter so peculiar?” Multitudes!
Arriv'd at filial Liberty. A Right
Faith's weakest new-born Babe may safely claim.
All who in Christ believe, all ought, all may;
Who yield not blindly to the specious Guile
Of Carnal Reasonings, and base Unbelief:
False, wandring Fires, that lead in misty Night
The lost, sad Pilgrim, foul, and far, astray.
Lov'd, sanctified, and seal'd, thy purchas'd Heav'n
By safe Assurance hold? and take thy Seat
Now , in celestial Places?—Gospel Sons
(Not shall, but do) have enter'd in that Rest .
Their present Privilege, tho' to most unknown.
157
A Charter so peculiar?” Multitudes!
Arriv'd at filial Liberty. A Right
Faith's weakest new-born Babe may safely claim.
All who in Christ believe, all ought, all may;
Who yield not blindly to the specious Guile
Of Carnal Reasonings, and base Unbelief:
False, wandring Fires, that lead in misty Night
The lost, sad Pilgrim, foul, and far, astray.
Is this th' immortal, emulating Prize!
A Palm, for contest set to human Race!
And will the Child, (by Passions nurs'd and Dreams)
Bent on a present Portion, pine for Earth
In frensied Wish, and hug his bawble-World?
What is Ambition, but base Discontent
With what we are? What, Pleasure? but a Foam,
By the mad Torrent rais'd, of rapid Sense!
Beauty? what more, than an external Toy?
Those that possess it, too, enjoy it least!
Worn but for others! Guilt's Asylum, Gold,
What? a false Shadow, of as false a Good!
Fame, what? and Titles?—Breath! and empty Names!
What, Learning? but the Boast, with Labour gain'd,
Of knowing something?—that was known before!
And are these worth a Wish! an anxious Sigh!
Thy chief Solicitude! which claims it best?
(Count, sensual Soul! revolve it oft, and deep!)
A Portion, spent on Earth? or stor'd, in Heav'n?
Th' important Difference, scan! deliberate! weigh!
Note the vast, vast, Disparity! between
A Portion, hastning from! or hastning to!
A Palm, for contest set to human Race!
And will the Child, (by Passions nurs'd and Dreams)
Bent on a present Portion, pine for Earth
In frensied Wish, and hug his bawble-World?
What is Ambition, but base Discontent
With what we are? What, Pleasure? but a Foam,
By the mad Torrent rais'd, of rapid Sense!
Beauty? what more, than an external Toy?
Those that possess it, too, enjoy it least!
Worn but for others! Guilt's Asylum, Gold,
What? a false Shadow, of as false a Good!
Fame, what? and Titles?—Breath! and empty Names!
What, Learning? but the Boast, with Labour gain'd,
Of knowing something?—that was known before!
And are these worth a Wish! an anxious Sigh!
Thy chief Solicitude! which claims it best?
158
A Portion, spent on Earth? or stor'd, in Heav'n?
Th' important Difference, scan! deliberate! weigh!
Note the vast, vast, Disparity! between
A Portion, hastning from! or hastning to!
But hark! from all the distant Hamlets round,
The lively Bells have rais'd their early Peals
To welcome in the Feast of holy Joy.
The due Regards of Household Piety
Betimes exciting; ere their ready Trains,
On Sound more gravely solemn, all convene
In the full House of Pray'r, and Hearts commix
In Adorations social; reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold,
Rejoyc'd, with Fellow-Saints: One homeward Stage
Brought onward, happily, to native Skies;
A Sabbath's-Journey in their Way to Heav'n.
The lively Bells have rais'd their early Peals
To welcome in the Feast of holy Joy.
The due Regards of Household Piety
Betimes exciting; ere their ready Trains,
On Sound more gravely solemn, all convene
In the full House of Pray'r, and Hearts commix
In Adorations social; reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold,
Rejoyc'd, with Fellow-Saints: One homeward Stage
Brought onward, happily, to native Skies;
A Sabbath's-Journey in their Way to Heav'n.
What holds me then, but that with instant Pace,
On the first Summons, earliest, I return?
In the joint Duties timely to engage
Of household Piety; 'till with the Trains,
Call'd on more solemn Service, I convene
In the full House of Pray'r; with Heart commix'd
In Adorations social: reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold
Rejoycing; while in Saintly-Fellowship
To native Skies, in nearer Prospect still,
Brought sweetly on, a Homeward Stage I reach:
One Sabbath's-Journey, on my heavenly Way.
On the first Summons, earliest, I return?
In the joint Duties timely to engage
Of household Piety; 'till with the Trains,
Call'd on more solemn Service, I convene
In the full House of Pray'r; with Heart commix'd
In Adorations social: reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold
Rejoycing; while in Saintly-Fellowship
159
Brought sweetly on, a Homeward Stage I reach:
One Sabbath's-Journey, on my heavenly Way.
So if an Eaglet (practising for Strength
His wand'ring Wing) in mid Excursion hears
The careful Mother-Bird her Son recal:
To her known Signal back he speeds at once,
And on her Plumes, in Flight celestial borne,
High to the Sun on safer Pinnions soars.
His wand'ring Wing) in mid Excursion hears
The careful Mother-Bird her Son recal:
To her known Signal back he speeds at once,
And on her Plumes, in Flight celestial borne,
High to the Sun on safer Pinnions soars.
The End of the First Part.
The Meditation.
How fragrant is the Air of these delicious Fields! how sweet the surrounding Prospects! furnished out for my Entertainment, by the Hand of the God of Nature. Has he put so much Refreshment into every perfumed Breeze? Crouded such a variety of different, pleasing Colours, Shapes, and Essences into so many little Flowers? Given to such diversity of Fruits and Foods their contrary, yet grateful Flavours? Afforded such innumerable, multiform Prospects to engage the Eye, one single Sense? Such an interchange of Melodies to entertain the Ear? And contrived, by no less than five different Mediums or Senses, to give Gratification to the meer animal Faculties, which are by far the most ignoble Part of me, that I might behold him in this Glass of Nature? This Mirror of Wonders?
If I lift my Eyes upwards how shall I conceive of his awful Infinity? Who can place a World, ten thousand Times the Magnitude of ours, at so remote a Distance, as to appear but as a lucid Point, a little twinkling Star? If I bend them downwards, what Instances are every where of amazing Power, that could produce such an Appearance of Order, and Beauty, out of so mean and irregular a Collection of Dust, and Atoms? Hast thou provided such stately Furniture for these lowest Apartments of thy universal Palace, and for thy meanest Attendant? O what then are the Grandeurs that adorn thy Presence Chamber! What, those magnificent Mansions! where thou displayest the pleased Rays of thy beatific Glory, in the higher, and better Worlds!
Has created Goodness all these Beauties? A little earthly Spot on which I tread, and gaze (embellished with his least Adumbrations) so fair a Form? Such lovely Charms? O then, how much more infinitely lovely is he, who has given these Things all their loveliness! Who puts into them whatever Sweetness they contain, or can convey! These are but Copies, ah! faint Copies all! of the Goodness of their fair Original. Where is the perfect, uncreated Good? Where the enamouring Image of Loveliness itself? Where is the Original Beauty?—I can discern him in every thing around me: Discover, in every smallest Part of formed Matter, some vestigia of the Deity. The Former of these accomplished Works was also my Former. Where art thou? My all apparent yet unperceived Maker! How shall I hold converse with thee? How approach thee? Am I no better able to conceive of thee than these Trees? Those Brutes? This Clod that bears me? Am I not related to thee by Mind and Spirit? ordained a Priest of this thy mute Creation? Nay, am I not thine, by nearer Relation, and Union? The Brother and Associate, the Lover and Friend, of thy dear incarnate Son? A Member of his Body ? One with him , and thereby one with thee? Adopted in thy eternal Purpose! Regenerated by thy Spirit, and purchased to thyself by his Blood? Hath he said, I go to my Father and to your Father ? And shall I not then call thee my Father? And may I not converse with thee as a Father? Present every where, present always, present now? While thus I am surrounded with imagined Solitude and Secresy, and meditating, with delight, upon thy beauteous Works.
But O! what new Beauties and Pleasures does it put into every Scene, when I consider this World I am now viewing, is a Kingdom of my Father's! Mean as I am in my obscure Condition here, censured, overlooked, or despised, I am yet a royal Child, and the Inheriter of a glorious, a sure, tho' invisible Crown. Let the great vain Men of this Earth take their vanishing Portion; divide this contested Spot, into little, momentary, uncertain Possessions, which they falsly call their own; delude themselves with a conceited Happiness, and adore their sensual Idol. A little, little, little while, and the God I live to, and converse with here, my Father, and my God, will translate me to a State of far higher Honours. It is his good Pleasure to give me a Kingdom, incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away. (Characters opposite to this changing, polluted, and perishing Scene) reserved in Heaven for me. Here he is training me up by his Spirit, in the Princely Life and Temper, meeting me in the academic Retirements of Groves and Shades, till I am ripened for the opened Glories of my Coronation Day.
O! happy Retirement! O! heavenly Solitude! that always affords me the Presence of my Father, and God! where I may at all Times find thee, speak to thee, and receive the delightful Intercourses of thy Converse, and Love. Happy Poverty! where thou, never-failing Fountain of Fulness and Riches! art my inexhaustible Portion. Happy Banishment! that can at no smallest Distance ever separate me from thee. Happy Prison! where thy Society cannot, for one Moment, be excluded. Happy Bed of Sickness! where thou art continually by to cheer and support me. Happy Hour of Death! when my Spirit is expired but only into thy ever circling, and paternal Arms. Happy Condition! extending itself to all Places, all Circumstances, and thro' all Duration. Happy Creature! both here and for ever possessed. of the inseparable, intimate Presence and favour of A God. A Friend, A Father.
I have purposely introduced this Passage for the Consolation of pious, mourning Parents: For whom, by severest Experience of the same Trials, I have the tenderest Sympathy. The Scripture, here adverted to, affords the richest Comforts in such afflicting Seasons, the Death of Infants, who no doubt make a very numerous Part of the redeemed Family: Distinguished from the Confessors, described Chap. vi. 9th v. From the Penitents, C. v. and vii. From the whole Body of Believers, C. xix. And seem evidently marked out for Observation in this Place, by the exactest Characters, and fullest Descriptions.
Here follow the Verses promised in the Advertisement before the Work.
By Lea's dear Banks, where join'd in Play
My Youth's smooth Hours stole pleas'd away,
Late wand'ring: by Reflection prest;
Thus, taught the Friend, the mental Guest.
Sweet Stream! where most my Haunts delight
Whose Scenes to solemn Thought invite;
May my calm Life resemble thee,
Such Pleasure give, so useful be.
My Youth's smooth Hours stole pleas'd away,
Late wand'ring: by Reflection prest;
Thus, taught the Friend, the mental Guest.
Sweet Stream! where most my Haunts delight
Whose Scenes to solemn Thought invite;
May my calm Life resemble thee,
Such Pleasure give, so useful be.
As passing Straws and buoyant Leaves
Thy yeilding Surface, but, receives,
While Pearls that lure the searching Eye
Deep treasur'd, in thy Bosom lie:
May Trifles such Reception find;
Float, merely transient, on my Mind,
While weightier Thoughts Admission win,
Sinks its whole Depths, and rest within.
Thy yeilding Surface, but, receives,
While Pearls that lure the searching Eye
Deep treasur'd, in thy Bosom lie:
May Trifles such Reception find;
Float, merely transient, on my Mind,
While weightier Thoughts Admission win,
Sinks its whole Depths, and rest within.
As the large Face the Heav'ns expose
Thy pure, reflecting Mirrour shows,
Yet paints, in small, terrestial Scenes,
Some bordering Flowers or pendant Greens:
So, with Resemblances divine,
My copying Life direct to shine;
While Earth's faint Forms, grown distant—less—
Their fewer Images impress.
Thy pure, reflecting Mirrour shows,
Yet paints, in small, terrestial Scenes,
Some bordering Flowers or pendant Greens:
So, with Resemblances divine,
My copying Life direct to shine;
While Earth's faint Forms, grown distant—less—
Their fewer Images impress.
Teach me thy Constancy—to force
O'er Barrs, and Streights, a stubborn Course;
Not idly in Suspension held—
Thy Path not chang'd, tho' oft repell'd.
Thy Patience teach my ruffled Soul,
When, like thy Waves, its Motions roll:
Who vex'd to foam, while Passions fray,
Gentle, in Smiles soon pass away.
O'er Barrs, and Streights, a stubborn Course;
Not idly in Suspension held—
Thy Path not chang'd, tho' oft repell'd.
Thy Patience teach my ruffled Soul,
When, like thy Waves, its Motions roll:
Who vex'd to foam, while Passions fray,
Gentle, in Smiles soon pass away.
Teach me thy Rule of temp'rate Bliss,
Pleas'd, just thy flow'ry Banks to kiss:
Yet by no Sweets allur'd aside,
Till Ocean stops thy restless Tide.
O may'st thou Pattern wise dispense,
Mod'rate to taste the Charms of Sense!
Still pressing to my wish'd Abode,
Nor fix'd, till at my Centre—God.
Pleas'd, just thy flow'ry Banks to kiss:
Yet by no Sweets allur'd aside,
Till Ocean stops thy restless Tide.
O may'st thou Pattern wise dispense,
Mod'rate to taste the Charms of Sense!
Still pressing to my wish'd Abode,
Nor fix'd, till at my Centre—God.
I should be deeply concerned if, by any misconstruction, these Lines should be thought to reflect on a Sacred Order of Men, for whom I have, in common, the most real, affectionate Esteem. All religious Ceremonies, agreeing with gospel Simplicity, in our protestant established Church. All Stations of Dignity, Profit, &c. conducing either to the Credit or comfortable Discharge of the ministerial Function, the extending any Sphere of Usefulness, or that are the just Rewards of Piety and Merit, are far from being design'd as a least Part of the Subject in this Reprehension. Such Abuses of the holy Office, as I have only glanced at, are the Grief of all worthy Ministers and good Men. The securest Heart may tremble at the Denunciations, which God hath himself express'd, (six times in ten Verses) against such mercenary, idle and rapacious Shepherds. Ezek. xxxiv. from 1. to v. 11.
Milton has a Passage, in his Lycidas, exactly correspondent with mine; applied wholly to a Clergy of this corrupt, scandalous, and carnal Stamp.
------ Such, as for their Bellies sake
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the Fold.
Of other Care they little Reck'ning make,
Than how to scramble at the Shearer's Feast,
And drive away the worthy bidden Guest;
Blind Mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought else the least.
That to the faithful Herdsman's Art belongs!
What recks it them? what need they? they are sped;
And, when they list, their lean, and flashy Songs
Grate on their scranel Pipes of wretched Straw.
The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swoln with Wind, and the rank Mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul Contagion spread:
Besides what the grim Wolf with privy Paw
Daily devours apace; and nothing said—
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the Fold.
Of other Care they little Reck'ning make,
Than how to scramble at the Shearer's Feast,
And drive away the worthy bidden Guest;
Blind Mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought else the least.
That to the faithful Herdsman's Art belongs!
What recks it them? what need they? they are sped;
And, when they list, their lean, and flashy Songs
Grate on their scranel Pipes of wretched Straw.
The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swoln with Wind, and the rank Mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul Contagion spread:
Besides what the grim Wolf with privy Paw
Daily devours apace; and nothing said—
| The Works and Rest of the Creation | |