The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery Collected and Revised by the Author |
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MAMMON AND MATERIALISM. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
MAMMON AND MATERIALISM.
Oh, for a Luther to inspire us now!
Th' awaking magic of some mind God-taught
To charm the sensual from the Nation's soul;
Our passions dark, our appetites of dust
To brighten, or to banish; till the love
Of whatsoe'er is lefty, and divine,
Of whatsoe'er is glorious, and august,
The throne of public Taste may re-ascend,
Give life to Genius, and a law to thought,
And for the Beautiful true homage gain.
Woe to the Land! whose days are evil now:
Venality in vulgar glory reigns;
Profit and Loss intense inspirers are;
The Arts are pining in neglected gloom,
Sculpture is dead, and Poetry in tears;
And Science mostly for the palate reigns!
Utility, a social god becomes,
And Britain but as Dives, longs to live
In pomp and purple, and in sumptuous joy.
The universe for comfort seems arranged;
The world,—a warehouse for convenience plann'd!
And that Creation, which to faith appears
An outer-court to God's more secret shrine,
Is made a temple, where the Senses may
Adore the Useful, with vile worship now.
Th' awaking magic of some mind God-taught
To charm the sensual from the Nation's soul;
Our passions dark, our appetites of dust
To brighten, or to banish; till the love
Of whatsoe'er is lefty, and divine,
Of whatsoe'er is glorious, and august,
The throne of public Taste may re-ascend,
Give life to Genius, and a law to thought,
And for the Beautiful true homage gain.
Woe to the Land! whose days are evil now:
Venality in vulgar glory reigns;
Profit and Loss intense inspirers are;
The Arts are pining in neglected gloom,
Sculpture is dead, and Poetry in tears;
And Science mostly for the palate reigns!
Utility, a social god becomes,
And Britain but as Dives, longs to live
In pomp and purple, and in sumptuous joy.
The universe for comfort seems arranged;
The world,—a warehouse for convenience plann'd!
And that Creation, which to faith appears
An outer-court to God's more secret shrine,
Is made a temple, where the Senses may
Adore the Useful, with vile worship now.
Alas! for England when her god is gold,
And nought believed but what coarse passions love;
When all of spirit, found in tasteful lore,
In effort noble, or sublime in aim,
A mock becomes, till principle expires,
And base Expediency's polluted breath
Falls, like a mildew, over minds and men.
Romance is faded; sentiment extinct;
All the fine chivalries of ancient Faith
Are laugh'd away, as meaningless, or vain:
While Dulness prospers in her leaden smiles,
And mediocrity, with damping weight,
Each nobler faculty and sacred power
Darkens, at last, to intellectual death,
And leaves to Manhood little but a name.
And nought believed but what coarse passions love;
When all of spirit, found in tasteful lore,
In effort noble, or sublime in aim,
A mock becomes, till principle expires,
And base Expediency's polluted breath
Falls, like a mildew, over minds and men.
Romance is faded; sentiment extinct;
All the fine chivalries of ancient Faith
Are laugh'd away, as meaningless, or vain:
While Dulness prospers in her leaden smiles,
And mediocrity, with damping weight,
Each nobler faculty and sacred power
Darkens, at last, to intellectual death,
And leaves to Manhood little but a name.
Oh, for a spirit of reviving truth,
A resurrection from the grave of Mind!
That soon the harmonies of olden thought,
Like buried music, from the past may rise
In solemn cadence, and our souls becalm.
Let Finite in the Infinite be merged;
Let Fancy dream, Imagination dare,
And Effort triumph in heroic forms
Till Art and Genius glorify the world,
And Science from her dreams of sensual bliss
Turn to the Soul, and there, with rev'rent gaze,
Deep within deep those springs of Nature trace,
Where most the unapparent Spirit works,
And awful Conscience from her secret throne
Each lawless movement of the soul condemns;
Or like an Oracle is ever found
Approving virtue, and proclaiming heaven.
A resurrection from the grave of Mind!
That soon the harmonies of olden thought,
Like buried music, from the past may rise
In solemn cadence, and our souls becalm.
Let Finite in the Infinite be merged;
Let Fancy dream, Imagination dare,
And Effort triumph in heroic forms
Till Art and Genius glorify the world,
And Science from her dreams of sensual bliss
Turn to the Soul, and there, with rev'rent gaze,
Deep within deep those springs of Nature trace,
Where most the unapparent Spirit works,
And awful Conscience from her secret throne
Each lawless movement of the soul condemns;
Or like an Oracle is ever found
Approving virtue, and proclaiming heaven.
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |