 | Harvest-Home (1805) |  |
557
[“The Muse, first kneeling at Compassion's shrine]
“The Muse, first kneeling at Compassion's shrine,
Her opening lay, HUMANITY, is thine!
Thee she invokes, oh! soother of distress,
Who with our kindness wove our happiness;
For as thy circling virtues round us move,
From our best deeds thy brightest joys we prove,
Oft as our neighbour sinks in sudden grief,
Thou wak'st as sudden to afford relief.
Oft as the stranger's bosom heaves with sighs,
Thy soft responses in our bosoms rise;
The cries of terror, and the throes of care,
The groan of mis'ry, and distraction's glare,
Sickness that droops, disease that gasps for breath,
The howl of madness and the shrieks of death,
Deep sounds of agony that most afright,
Dread views of horror that most blast the sight,
Dire as they are, like wond'rous magnets draw,
And own, HUMANITY, thy sacred law.
Her opening lay, HUMANITY, is thine!
Thee she invokes, oh! soother of distress,
Who with our kindness wove our happiness;
For as thy circling virtues round us move,
From our best deeds thy brightest joys we prove,
Oft as our neighbour sinks in sudden grief,
Thou wak'st as sudden to afford relief.
Oft as the stranger's bosom heaves with sighs,
Thy soft responses in our bosoms rise;
The cries of terror, and the throes of care,
The groan of mis'ry, and distraction's glare,
Sickness that droops, disease that gasps for breath,
The howl of madness and the shrieks of death,
Deep sounds of agony that most afright,
Dread views of horror that most blast the sight,
Dire as they are, like wond'rous magnets draw,
And own, HUMANITY, thy sacred law.
And oh! 'tis thine, when vital breath seems fled,
To seek the awful confines of the dead.
Beneath the billow though the victim lies,
Thy dauntless zeal the roaring main defies.
Inspired by him, whose hallow'd touch restor'd
The darling son the widow's soul deplor'd,
'Twas thine her breast to ease of dire alarms,
And give the youth to her despairing arms.
Thine too to plunge into the bloating flood,
Clasp the swoll'n frame, and thaw the frozen blood;
Breathe in the lips re-animating fire,
Till, warm'd to second life, the drown'd respire.
To seek the awful confines of the dead.
Beneath the billow though the victim lies,
Thy dauntless zeal the roaring main defies.
Inspired by him, whose hallow'd touch restor'd
The darling son the widow's soul deplor'd,
'Twas thine her breast to ease of dire alarms,
And give the youth to her despairing arms.
Thine too to plunge into the bloating flood,
Clasp the swoll'n frame, and thaw the frozen blood;
Breathe in the lips re-animating fire,
Till, warm'd to second life, the drown'd respire.
558
Hark! as those lips once more begin to move,
What sounds ascend of gratitude and love!
Now with the Great Redeemer's praise they glow,
Then bless the agents of his power below;
New sprung to life, the renovated band,
Joyful before their second Saviours stand;
And oh! far sweeter than the breathing spring,
Fairer than Paradise the wreaths they bring!
The blissful homage rescued friends impart!
Th'enraptur'd incense of a parent's heart,
O'er-aw'd, and wond'ring at themselves, they see
The magic power of soft HUMANITY!
What sounds ascend of gratitude and love!
Now with the Great Redeemer's praise they glow,
Then bless the agents of his power below;
New sprung to life, the renovated band,
Joyful before their second Saviours stand;
And oh! far sweeter than the breathing spring,
Fairer than Paradise the wreaths they bring!
The blissful homage rescued friends impart!
Th'enraptur'd incense of a parent's heart,
O'er-aw'd, and wond'ring at themselves, they see
The magic power of soft HUMANITY!
Humanity, a Poem. 7th Edition.
| Harvest-Home (1805) | |