University of Virginia Library

Thus taught to judge, while Nature forced to feel,
He watch'd each living Creature's woe and weal;
And shunn'd, with shame their suff'ring frames to wound,
Where Wisdom show'd such pow'r, and skill profound;
For what that Wisdom saw it meet to make,
Should have much tendency for Jesu's sake!
He ne'er from Passion—Whim—Caprice—or Pride,
The eyeless Worm, or limbless Snail, destroy'd;
Nor, to indulge a wanton, froward, Will,
Pursued poor Flies to persecute, or kill;
But, that Life's blessings they should longer share,
Oft freed their wings from Spider's tangling snare.
Conscious that feeble Race, by Heav'n decreed,
Was meant a blessing to the human breed.
Pierc'd not the Chafer with impaling pin,
To make his trembling pinions, buzzing, spin;
Or chas'd the charming Moths, in mazey rings,
To pluck their plumes, or crush their crippled wings;
But, sickening, saw them whirl the blaze about,
And gasp'd to blow the cruel candle out.
Ne'er murdered Minnows in the shallow streams,
Nor suffer'd Suns to scorch, with burning beams;
But, oft, the wretched, silly, race to save,
Bore them, with blessings, to some wider wave:
Ne'er bent on treacherous business, trail'd the brook,
Nor lur'd the larger tribes with baited hook,
Lest the barb'd steel the torn line might retain,
Fixt in rent jaws, to kill with lingering pain!
No harmless Birds pursued in brutal quest,
Or pillaged eggs, or young; or spoil'd their nest,
But flew to feed them in the wintry storm,
Or hugg'd them to his heart, to make them warm!
Ne'er sought that savage sport, with fiends delight,
Pitting fierce dauntless Cocks in desperate fight;
Nor saw, without a sigh their pinions quake,
When bound, like Martyrs, to a bloody stake;
Expos'd to pangs, from every Child of Hell,
Who hop'd the prize, whene'er the Victim fell;
While each with torture stands, or terror, starts,
Till clubs have brain'd their heads, or broke their hearts.
At mad Amusement's claim, or Mischief's call,
Ne'er made pinch'd Puppy squeak, or Kitten squall,
Nor felt infernal wish fierce war to wage,
Urging rash canine combatants to rage.
Could ne'er look on with Windhams' devilish joy,
While Bulls and Bull-dogs mutual strength destroy.
Would rather, wandering round, forsake his path,
Than rouze one irritable Wretch to wrath.
Thro' road circuitous, on tiptoe, stray
Than wake a Lamb which slumber'd in his way;
Much less enlarge the Centaur's cruel crowd,
With clamorous horns, and kennels bellowing loud,
Pursuing, eager, with vociferous breath;
To fright a timorous, harmless, hare to death.
He wish'd no conscious Creature e'er might miss
Its amplest portion of embodied bliss;
Well knowing all Things form'd, by Providence,
With power's of motion and with proofs of sense,
Whether they crawl, or creep, run, fly, or swim,
Experienc'd pains and pleasures much like Him—
And He who made them part of His pure plan,
To taste the sweets of Life as well as Man,
Will, with strict justice vindicate their cause,
Against the reasoning brutes that break His Laws.

He urg'd his skill in emulative Arts,
The prime ambition of aspiring parts,
Near some fix'd point the figur'd lead to drop—
Hurl pantile quoits; or whip the whirling top—
Dart the smooth marble at the destin'd mark;
Or find a foe, when blind with bandage dark;
And numerous more, fond gratifying games,
Ne'er honour'd, yet, with apt poetic names.
Pursued athletic sports, at hardier age,
Which all the energies of youth engage;
While each some providential purpose serves,
To brace the muscles, and confirm the nerves.
Contended in the race with riper years,
And leap'd a longer space than all his peers—
Advanc'd the foremost with the bladder'd ball—
With wriggling wrestler tried the temperate fall—
Still amicably calm each contest led,
But ne'er from gross affront, like dastard, fled;
Yet while he fear'd no fall, or wounded face,
He felt both strife, and stigma, deep disgrace—
And, tho' his heart ne'er fail'd, or will gave way,
He quarrels loath'd, and blam'd each bloody fray.

But such pursuits ne'er fill'd his fond desires,
Or gave meet fuel for his mental fires—
Dissatisfied with juvenile and futile joys,
That, from bare bodily perfections, rise;
With all the glory excellence could yield,
In friendly conflict, or contested field.
His Soul's large wishes ne'er could rest supplied,
By false Ambition, or degrading Pride;
Much less from merely animal delights,
The growths of Passions, and gross Appetites.
He aim'd at objects of sublimer kind;
Objects congenial with immortal Mind!
From temporal knowledge never felt content,
Acquir'd so cheaply—oft so basely spent;
But, prompt, on intellectual pinion, soar'd,
To fetch rich food from Heav'n's exhaustless hoard!
In hourly flights his happy Spirit sped
Beyond the reach of Time's erasing tread!
Beyond the childish thoughts, and chaffy things,
His glass degrades, or winnows with his wings!
Past all His proud terrestial stock supplies,
His flight soon overturns, or scythe destroys!
Above base appetites, and pow'rs, of Brutes,
Unpinion'd Pride's, and idol Pomp's, pursuits—
Above cold Custom's troops, frail Fashion's train;
Fop's trifling follies, volatile and vain!
With all fond, cringing, Courtiers' fickle throng,
Who ne'er enjoy lov'd place, or pleasures, long!
He ne'er united with Debauchery's ranks,
Or join'd rude Revelry's preposterous pranks—
Ne'er mix'd with Blasphemy's abandon'd groups,
Or desperate Sabbath-breakers' vent'rous troops;
Nor courted evanescent Fancy's crowd,
Of paltry nothings ever vainly proud!
Who see some dazzling phantasm full in view,
Which, tho' they ne'er o'ertake, still, prompt, pursue!
He soon perceiv'd substantial Happiness
Depended not on Diet—Sport—or Dress—
Was never found within the frantic range
Where Passions cheat, yet choose perpetual change—
Where Pride beholds its futile objects fail—
Nor blind Ambition's projects poise the scale!
Ne'er Calm Contentment's gentler joys are found,
Nor, Peace in Dissipation's rambling round;
But both must be deriv'd from Him, alone,
Who makes the Earth His footstool—Heav'n His Throne—
And still bestows them, as His bounteous dow'r,
On all who prize His Love and fear His Pow'r—
Who freely lends to all both Life and breath;
Whose smile is full delight! whose frown is death!