 | Poems on several grave and important subjects (1719) |  |
An EPISTLE
To the Reverend Mr. John Guthrey, V. D. M.
While you, dear Sir, with undisturbed Mind,
Endure Afflictions, I, your weaker Friend,
Rob'd of a Brother, and with him of Joy,
In silent Sighs my fleeting Hours employ;
Life grows a Burden, and not worth my Care,
My Woes so many and oppressing are.
The Loss of such a Brother, and a Friend,
(For we in both Relations once were join'd)
In spite of Virtue and Philosophy,
Plunges my Mind in an Abyss of Misery.
Awhile he shone, awhile our Sight he cheer'd,
But soon the short-liv'd Comfort disappear'd.
How soon he flourish'd, and how ripe he grew
In Qualities divinely bright, you knew:
He could not long delight us with his Stay;
His Soul disdain'd to be confin'd to Clay.
So low-hung Clouds, by raining over-fast,
Break all at once, nor can they always last.
And often as the Heav'ns refresh our Sight,
While they appear serenely clear and bright,
Thick horrid Clouds with sudden Gloom arise,
And Shades of Hell, to hide them from our Eyes.
Endure Afflictions, I, your weaker Friend,
Rob'd of a Brother, and with him of Joy,
In silent Sighs my fleeting Hours employ;
Life grows a Burden, and not worth my Care,
My Woes so many and oppressing are.
64
(For we in both Relations once were join'd)
In spite of Virtue and Philosophy,
Plunges my Mind in an Abyss of Misery.
Awhile he shone, awhile our Sight he cheer'd,
But soon the short-liv'd Comfort disappear'd.
How soon he flourish'd, and how ripe he grew
In Qualities divinely bright, you knew:
He could not long delight us with his Stay;
His Soul disdain'd to be confin'd to Clay.
So low-hung Clouds, by raining over-fast,
Break all at once, nor can they always last.
And often as the Heav'ns refresh our Sight,
While they appear serenely clear and bright,
Thick horrid Clouds with sudden Gloom arise,
And Shades of Hell, to hide them from our Eyes.
65
Oh what is Life! a Shadow, or a Dream,
A very nothing, or at most a Name!
A poor imaginary Scene, that lies
Betwixt two endless dark Eternities,
A hasty Step forth from our Mother's Womb
To the damp Grave, or ghostly silent Tomb.
The wretched World, where scarce we shew our Face,
And breath a while, we term our dwelling-place:
But generous Minds, like him whose Fate I mourn,
See all Things vain on Earth, and ev'ry Pleasure spurn.
A very nothing, or at most a Name!
A poor imaginary Scene, that lies
Betwixt two endless dark Eternities,
A hasty Step forth from our Mother's Womb
To the damp Grave, or ghostly silent Tomb.
The wretched World, where scarce we shew our Face,
And breath a while, we term our dwelling-place:
But generous Minds, like him whose Fate I mourn,
See all Things vain on Earth, and ev'ry Pleasure spurn.
We but, like Players, on the Stage appear,
Strut for awhile, and bluster loudly here,
With Sound and Fury make our senseless Tale,
And scarce approv'd behind the Curtain steal.
They're blest, who make not Earth their dear Abode;
But act awhile, and gain the Plaudit of their God.
Short Bounds of Life are set to mortal Man:
'Tis Virtue's Work to stretch the narrow Span.
Improperly we measure Life by Breath,
They do not truly live, who merit Death.
Strut for awhile, and bluster loudly here,
With Sound and Fury make our senseless Tale,
And scarce approv'd behind the Curtain steal.
66
But act awhile, and gain the Plaudit of their God.
Short Bounds of Life are set to mortal Man:
'Tis Virtue's Work to stretch the narrow Span.
Improperly we measure Life by Breath,
They do not truly live, who merit Death.
Long have I been with prosp'rous Life deceiv'd;
Till now, I ne'er its Vanity believ'd.
I trusted much the varnished Deceit;
But am convinc'd at last, that ev'ry Charm 's a Cheat:
That Goods of Life are like the chymic Gold,
Which fool us young, and begger us when old.
All our To-morrows are as Yesterday,
That pleas'd our Eyes with Shew, and sudden pass'd away.
Now I begin to feel afflicting Pain,
And, of the best Enjoyment here, complain:
We never know so well our wretched Case,
As when we view ourselves in Sorrow's Glass.
My Grief, perhaps, by others will be blam'd,
And all my mournful Numbers much defam'd.
So I, untroubled, us'd to charge before
My Neighbours, who with Patience hardly bore
The mighty Sorrows of their wretched Mind,
While they esteem'd me Ign'rant and Unkind.
All Men give counsel to their Friends distress'd,
While they themselves are easy and at rest;
Yet when they feel the like Distress, they cry,
No Pain's so great; we'll swoon, despair and dye.
Their Counsel turns to Passion and Complaint,
And no soft Language can their Trouble paint.
They blame all others who in Groans and Sighs
Do not with them condole and sympathize,
Thus all Men preach up Patience to the griev'd;
But, when afflicted, scarce will be reliev'd.
Moral they were of late; but now their Pow'r
Is not sufficient their own Pain t'endure.
Till now, I ne'er its Vanity believ'd.
I trusted much the varnished Deceit;
But am convinc'd at last, that ev'ry Charm 's a Cheat:
That Goods of Life are like the chymic Gold,
Which fool us young, and begger us when old.
All our To-morrows are as Yesterday,
That pleas'd our Eyes with Shew, and sudden pass'd away.
67
And, of the best Enjoyment here, complain:
We never know so well our wretched Case,
As when we view ourselves in Sorrow's Glass.
My Grief, perhaps, by others will be blam'd,
And all my mournful Numbers much defam'd.
So I, untroubled, us'd to charge before
My Neighbours, who with Patience hardly bore
The mighty Sorrows of their wretched Mind,
While they esteem'd me Ign'rant and Unkind.
All Men give counsel to their Friends distress'd,
While they themselves are easy and at rest;
Yet when they feel the like Distress, they cry,
No Pain's so great; we'll swoon, despair and dye.
Their Counsel turns to Passion and Complaint,
And no soft Language can their Trouble paint.
They blame all others who in Groans and Sighs
Do not with them condole and sympathize,
68
But, when afflicted, scarce will be reliev'd.
Moral they were of late; but now their Pow'r
Is not sufficient their own Pain t'endure.
Bid me not, Mortals, bravely Suff'rings bear,
And for my Brother's Death unmov'd, like you, appear:
But, if ye can, a noble Pattern shew,
And I shall then obsequious be to you.
Yet 'ere ye find occasion to declare
Your boasted Virtue, first you must compare
With me in Sorrow for so true a Friend,
Curious to search out Beauties to commend,
In censuring slow; to whom you may impart
With safety all the Secrets of your Heart;
Make common e'en your most retired thoughts,
Nor fear he will reveal, tho' gently chide your Faults.
Sooner to Fleets the Winds shall useless prove,
Before you find a more exalted Love.
The Flow'rs shall yield no Honey to the Bee,
'Ere Mankind any Parallel shall see.
You, who the Reason of my Sorrows know,
Commiserate my sad Condition now.
Compassion seems a gen'rous Property
Of Humankind to those in Misery.
The Tears which Nature gave to Man declare
She meant we shou'd our Brethren's Troubles share.
The Sentiments which inly we conceive
Are known by Weeping, Man's Prerogative.
By pitying Looks and melting Eyes we show
Our Sympathy with others painful Woe.
This nat'ral Piety at first refin'd,
And Heav'nwards rais'd the Heart of Humankind.
It proves our Spirit of divine Descent,
While that of Brutes to Earth is downwards bent.
And for my Brother's Death unmov'd, like you, appear:
But, if ye can, a noble Pattern shew,
And I shall then obsequious be to you.
Yet 'ere ye find occasion to declare
Your boasted Virtue, first you must compare
With me in Sorrow for so true a Friend,
Curious to search out Beauties to commend,
In censuring slow; to whom you may impart
With safety all the Secrets of your Heart;
Make common e'en your most retired thoughts,
Nor fear he will reveal, tho' gently chide your Faults.
69
Before you find a more exalted Love.
The Flow'rs shall yield no Honey to the Bee,
'Ere Mankind any Parallel shall see.
You, who the Reason of my Sorrows know,
Commiserate my sad Condition now.
Compassion seems a gen'rous Property
Of Humankind to those in Misery.
The Tears which Nature gave to Man declare
She meant we shou'd our Brethren's Troubles share.
The Sentiments which inly we conceive
Are known by Weeping, Man's Prerogative.
By pitying Looks and melting Eyes we show
Our Sympathy with others painful Woe.
This nat'ral Piety at first refin'd,
And Heav'nwards rais'd the Heart of Humankind.
70
While that of Brutes to Earth is downwards bent.
But why, alas! shou'd mortal Man complain
Of Fortune, Fate, or Providence, in vain?
God knows our Case, and suits his Conduct well;
We may mistake, but He has perfect Skill.
Reason's too short, to measure infinite:
Th' Abyss of Justice can't be known by it.
A Chain there is which guides Affairs below,
But purblind we its nearest Link scarce know:
Far less our Eyes explore the Original,
The mighty Beam above that poises all.
To virtuous Knowledge we were early bred,
And in our Souls wise Nature Wisdom laid;
That we, like Heroes, with a brave Controll,
Our fiery Passions and their Rage might rule:
To bear our Cross, and hold a glorious Strife
With adverse Fate, and ev'ry Change of Life:
To wait Heav'ns Time, and look for better Days,
When Sighs shall end in grateful Shouts of Praise.
Of Fortune, Fate, or Providence, in vain?
God knows our Case, and suits his Conduct well;
We may mistake, but He has perfect Skill.
Reason's too short, to measure infinite:
Th' Abyss of Justice can't be known by it.
A Chain there is which guides Affairs below,
But purblind we its nearest Link scarce know:
Far less our Eyes explore the Original,
The mighty Beam above that poises all.
To virtuous Knowledge we were early bred,
And in our Souls wise Nature Wisdom laid;
That we, like Heroes, with a brave Controll,
Our fiery Passions and their Rage might rule:
71
With adverse Fate, and ev'ry Change of Life:
To wait Heav'ns Time, and look for better Days,
When Sighs shall end in grateful Shouts of Praise.
'Tis our own Wisdom moulds our present State;
And to our Lives proportion'd is our Fate.
Our Faults or Virtues have an Influence,
And seem to govern ruling Providence.
True Valour soars above the Things that seem
Distress and Pain, in mortal Man's Esteem.
Afflictions are not real Ills, else Heav'n
Had ne'er such Gifts to chosen Fav'rites giv'n;
They're only sent to try our Patience well,
And teach our Minds in gen'rous Arts to excell:
To show the Charms that with a foolish Pride,
We otherwise in easy Life would hide.
A noble Spirit ne'er more brisk appears,
Exerts its Pow'rs, and spurns its Clog of Cares,
Than when a Weight of Trouble bears it down,
And Fortune seems to take delight to frown.
Then I'll not fondly aggravate my Pain,
Nor of the Conduct of the Fates complain.
Patience, my Friend, will mitigate Distress,
Dispel our Cares, and make Affliction less.
We'll trust the Almighty Ruler of this Ball
With our Concerns, who best disposes all.
Tho' cloudy Hours invade our Time, what then?
We have had clear ones, and may have again.
So silver Rills, by rushing Rains defil'd,
May roul awhile unwholesome thro' the Field;
But when the Clouds are scatter'd, and the Air
Turns more serene, they bright again appear.
And to our Lives proportion'd is our Fate.
Our Faults or Virtues have an Influence,
And seem to govern ruling Providence.
True Valour soars above the Things that seem
Distress and Pain, in mortal Man's Esteem.
Afflictions are not real Ills, else Heav'n
Had ne'er such Gifts to chosen Fav'rites giv'n;
They're only sent to try our Patience well,
And teach our Minds in gen'rous Arts to excell:
72
We otherwise in easy Life would hide.
A noble Spirit ne'er more brisk appears,
Exerts its Pow'rs, and spurns its Clog of Cares,
Than when a Weight of Trouble bears it down,
And Fortune seems to take delight to frown.
Then I'll not fondly aggravate my Pain,
Nor of the Conduct of the Fates complain.
Patience, my Friend, will mitigate Distress,
Dispel our Cares, and make Affliction less.
We'll trust the Almighty Ruler of this Ball
With our Concerns, who best disposes all.
Tho' cloudy Hours invade our Time, what then?
We have had clear ones, and may have again.
So silver Rills, by rushing Rains defil'd,
May roul awhile unwholesome thro' the Field;
But when the Clouds are scatter'd, and the Air
Turns more serene, they bright again appear.
73
Tis fit that Troubles should our Lives annoy:
Who 've felt no Sorrows cannot relish Joy.
We should not murmur at the Pains we bear,
Since Trouble best becomes our Nature here.
We to Distress, as to our Center tend,
As Flames of Fire we see to Heav'n ascend.
Beside, some Grief shows mighty Love, but yet
Too much declares as great a Want of Wit.
'Tis an Ambition of an adverse Fate,
T'indulge a mournful melancholy State:
In Grief That often does appear with Charms,
And almost cozens us into its Arms;
But it unmans the Soul in which it dwells;
And therefore he evites it who excells:
It makes a Feather have prodigious Weight,
And swells a Mole-hill to a Mountain's Height:
It turns each Spark into a blazing Flame,
And every Blast, a Tempest hard to tame.
Who 've felt no Sorrows cannot relish Joy.
We should not murmur at the Pains we bear,
Since Trouble best becomes our Nature here.
We to Distress, as to our Center tend,
As Flames of Fire we see to Heav'n ascend.
Beside, some Grief shows mighty Love, but yet
Too much declares as great a Want of Wit.
'Tis an Ambition of an adverse Fate,
T'indulge a mournful melancholy State:
In Grief That often does appear with Charms,
And almost cozens us into its Arms;
But it unmans the Soul in which it dwells;
And therefore he evites it who excells:
It makes a Feather have prodigious Weight,
And swells a Mole-hill to a Mountain's Height:
It turns each Spark into a blazing Flame,
And every Blast, a Tempest hard to tame.
| Poems on several grave and important subjects (1719) | |