Poems by Thomas Odiorne . in a series of numbers |
 | 1. |
 | ETHIC STRAINS, ON SUBJECTS SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL, IN THREE PARTS; AND MINOR POEMS. |
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| 2. |
 | Poems by Thomas Odiorne . |  |
ETHIC STRAINS, ON SUBJECTS SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL, IN THREE PARTS; AND MINOR POEMS.
“Poetry is the nurse of elevated sentiment;—the life and the soul of language:—its delineations are powerfully responded to by our sensibilities;—we are naturally delighted with an art, which appeals to our dearest sensations;—and its triumph is the greatest, when it touches the master-chord of the heart, and leads the mind up to the great Source of all that is beautiful and sublime, attractive and majestic, in nature and in intellect.” London Investigator.
ETHIC STRAINS.
1. Part I.
SECTION I.
Love of Solitude.
Quit my solitary hours;
Leave my thoughts at my control,
'Tis the season of my soul!
Man was made for brighter skies.
When I nature's works explore,
When beyond the stars I soar,
When I seek the Source of Good,
Wrapt in a seraphic mood;
O! I love to be alone
In a sacred haunt unknown!
Oft has some enchanting power
There beguil'd an anxious hour;
Been my soul's congenial friend,
When the world no aid could lend;
Weaning me from love of pelf,
Kindly whispering, “Know thyself.”
Like as if some spirit, nigh,
Bade me seek a world on high.
So I caught a heaven-ward musing,
Inspiration that was soothing;
Caught Devotion's hallow'd flame,
Full of peace, devoid of shame:
And many a blissful mood
To thee I owe, sweet Solitude!
But when duty calls from home,
And the busy world I roam,
O! I love, with great delight,
Men to meet with hearts upright!
Where rise rich prospects in continuous change!
Where, stretch'd abroad in scenery ever new,
Beauty and grandeur hail the raptur'd view;
My heart dilates, enchanting thoughts control,
And wisdom holds communion with my soul.
“He who inclines to write, (says a celebrated German,) should enjoy undisturbed quietude. A person disposed to cultivate philosophy, or to court the muse, should be free from all embarrassment;—should be at liberty to follow the impulses of his own mind, to change his situation when and where he pleases, and to obey the dictates of his taste and genius without restraint:—and he should watch for those propitious moments, when the mind pours forth its ideas, and the heart warms with the subject. Revived by cheerful prospects, and animated by noble sentiments, the soul, urged by contempt of difficulties, makes a powerful effort, and fine thoughts, in suitable expressions, flow spontaneously from the pen.”
It is a passion common to our species, to be delighted with every thing Sublime and Beautiful in Nature; as is thus observed by the amiable Cowper:
—“The love of Nature's worksIs an ingredient in the compound man,
Infus'd at the creation of the kind.”
And of himself he says:
—“The country wins me still:I never fram'd a wish, or form'd a plan,
That flatter'd me with hopes of earthly bliss,
But there I laid the scene.”—
Again:
“Delightful scenes, (says Mr. Addison,) whether in Nature, Painting, or Poetry, have a kindly influence over the body, and not only serve to clear and brighten the imagination, but are able to disperse grief and melancholy, and to set the animal spirits in agreeable emotions.”
SECTION II.
Invocation to Reason and Revelation—God in the Cloud—Divine Agency in Nature—The Rainbow, a Benevolent Token.
Who form'd the plan, and fram'd the world so fair?
Who garnish'd heaven's stupendous arch sublime,
Spangled the night, and roll'd the wheels of time?
Impress'd with wisdom nature's ample page,
Or moves with winds the boundless ocean's rage?
Whose skilful hand within its socket laid
The visual orb, to see his works display'd?
Or who inspir'd the human breast with soul,
To feel his passing wonders as they roll?
Th' Eternal Just One! Revelation cries.
Grand from the deep he leads the glorious day;
Summer and winter his decrees obey;
The sky his pathway, showers about him blend,
Seed-time and harvest on his steps attend.
Unseen, he guides the countless worlds combin'd,
Unfelt, illumes the vision of the mind;
Excites the genius, wakes the social mood,
And forms the moral taste to relish good.
And who, like him (let guilty mortals dread!)
Brings justice down upon the culprit's head?
And speeds the dart, accountable to none.
Look nature through! his operations, there,
His boundless power and wond'rous love declare!
To execute his judgments just,
How instant his red lightning flies!
The rocks are rent, the mountains burst!
Midst the brewing storms,
Hark! his chariot comes!
Loud screams the hern along the shores;
The beast in silence to his den betakes;
In holy dread the heaven-born soul adores.
Rumbling abrupt and loud,
Through the dark mansions of yon sullen cloud,
Tremendously it rolls,
In broken peals,
O'er brazen pavements onward to the poles.
Earth a dreadful shuddering feels;
Heaven's repeated flashes blaze;
Thick'ning darkness broods about;
Trembling the nations gaze;
The skies come down, the winds come out.
Bursts a deep portentous sound!
Ocean kindred horror hails,
Boundless uproar now prevails!
A flash of glory seen by spells among,
Awful to mortals! moves the Godhead by,
And opens splendour in the western sky;
Recalls the promise which of old he vow'd,
And leaves his brilliant sign upon the cloud.
Skirted with gold, thick vapours hang around;
Earth smiles again, and jocund songs resound.
And drench'd creation with a bounteous shower,
How fresh, how cooling is the vital air!
What an enchanting aspect all things wear!
Was ever any spectacle so fine,
As is that bow? so pleasingly divine?
No wonder! there the smile of love we trace—
'Tis a memorial of the God of Grace;
A special manifest, that he will save
Earth from a second deluge of the wave;
And oft as that resplendent arch we see,
It indicates the present Deity.
So, far and wide, the promis'd truth extends!
What vivid colouring! can a mortal's art
Paint like the sunbeam? speak so to the heart?
Upon a vapour cast such magic grades,
Or give his canvass such effect, such shades?
Can any less than Heaven himself design
A theme so rich, a moral so divine?
Breathing softly cooling airs.
Oft he sends enliv'ning beams,
Scatters genial rains and dews,
Scents the flower, and paints its hues,
So that nature lovely seems.
Thus, he quickens seed and root,
Soft unfolds the blade and ear,
Loads the branch with grateful fruit,
Crowns with stores the rolling year.
Rise, O man! in rapture, rise;
Laud the Mighty, Holy, Wise
All the wonders he has done,
Loud proclaim him, Perfect One.
“At this my heart trembleth, and is moved out of his place. Hear attentively the noise of his voice, and the sound that goeth out of his mouth. He directeth under the whole heaven, and his lightning unto the ends of the earth.”
What a condescending and benignant expression is the following communication to rebellious, unworthy man!—“And God said, this is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you, for perpetual generations. I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud; and I will remember my covenant, and the waters shall no more become a flood, to destroy all the earth.”
SECTION III.
Natural and Moral Evils, marvellous—Notice of some of their Effects—Instability of Human Affairs, but Nature immutable in her Purpose—A Glance at the Condition of Man—From the Discovery of Deity in the Wisdom of Nature, Moral Truth suggested, and Reason assisted to form harmonious Conclusions.
Much transient evil seems to sanction blame.
What bright intelligence, ere sin began,
Had thought of its existence in the plan?
What peer in heaven, first told of such a scheme,
Had deem'd it but the phantom of a dream?
To think that God, who orders all things well,
Should e'er permit his creature to rebel;
When, if restrain'd, he might have stood sublime,
And holy eyes ne'er seen the course of crime!
Yet what distress, what complicated woes,
Deaths in a thousand shapes, the bosom knows!
Yet what disasters, in terrific forms,
Invade the earth, and ride upon the storms!
Lo! in the vegetive creation round,
What noxious vermin give the mortal wound!
The floweret wilts beneath the scorching ray;
Nipt by the frost, the tender herbs decay;
While plodding clouds hold council in the sky,
To bid the winds in horrid uproar fly—
Impel with violence the torrent rain.
Fortune oft baffles by the turns of time.
In wiles she comes, with fascinating airs,
Depicts the future, void of anxious cares,
When, lo! her steps she turns, and, gone in haste,
Frustrates vain hope, her visions all laid waste.
But Nature, howe'er mutable she seems,
Howe'er unfix'd, or partial in her schemes,
One constant end pursues, throughout her plan,
Her Author's glory in the view of man;
And that which dark to purblind Reason seems,
In Faith's bright vision glows with golden gleams.
Through that fair medium all things glorious shine—
Good out of evil proves the scheme divine.
Good out of evil! yes, and greater good,
Than had the father of our species stood.
Thence, most astonishing displays unfold,
And Truth Divine illumes the moral world.
'Midst ruins, great! for thee the Heavens have bow'd!
Behold, the God on Calvary appears,
The wonder of all worlds, the God in tears!
Mercy display'd for criminals alone—
None ever guilty, mercy never known!
From death to admit thee to th' immortal throng!
And though on earth, till thy departure hence,
Thy noble soul is held in bonds of sense;
Yet, while the sun his tireless course pursues,
And starry Night her natal song renews,
Thy contemplation finds divine employ,
Perception fills thy conscious soul with joy;
Thy character unfolds, thy powers expand,
By beauty charm'd, exalted by the grand;
Around, above, astonishment impress'd,
In earth and skies, the Deity confess'd.
To trace relations to their Source Divine;
From seeming discord and agreement fair,
To draw conclusions all harmonious there;
While from the scenes in varied prospect thrown,
Emotion catches an immortal tone.
In contemplating this varied and wondrous creation, how many objects of interest and delight open to the view! Grandeur looks abroad from his lofty habitations, dwelling alone; while Beauty, walking with the Graces, smiles upon us from her lonely mansions. These fertile sources of pleasure, which so elevate the mind, or tranquillize the heart, are eminent emanations from the Invisible; and it is this glowing exhibition of the character of Divinity, which gives fire to admiration, rapture to devotion, and argument to theological science. Surrounded by such luminous displays of benign Wisdom, it seems as if the imposing idea of infinite perfection, were ready to burst from the spectator, as it were to gain relief only by figurative exclamation. Conscience, here, gains her first proud triumph; Reason, here, is first led, in accordance with internal dictate, to become a votary to ethic studies; and the human heart is here, like Felix, almost persuaded to believe. A single spark, from the divine altar, might perfect the illumination. If there be any thing which is almost religion, without its reality; what is it but an admiration of the Supreme, in the symbols of sublime beauty and ineffable harmony, exhibited on the face of the visible creation?
SECTION IV.
Influence of External Nature on the Mind—Invitation to associate with Sublime and Beautiful Objects—Images of Fancy, by Similitude—Power of Imagination to retain, and to retrace her Perceptions.
From rolling systems, to the waving blade,
Nature has power, conferr'd by Heaven above,
The thoughts to captivate, and heart to move!
With instantaneous force arrests the sense,
And opens to perception scope immense;
With vastness, danger, terror, unconfin'd,
Absorbs the thought, and overwhelms the mind!
She with a gentle flame the bosom warms;
Detains the mental passes in control,
Darts light and transport to the conscious soul;
Adapts the taste, and, as her drift inspires,
Forms genius to the relish of her fires.
Rapt through the tracks of distance without end!
Beyond where eye through optic glass can scan,
Far, far beyond where orient light began,
As rapid as the dart of thunder flies,
Myriads of years, go see new worlds arise;
Ponder the stretch'd-out realms of Nature's throne,
Height, depth, expanse—an infinite unknown!
With all thy powers the universe explore,
And, in the boundless, lost, humbly adore!
Make thyself smaller, as thy thoughts diverge,
And in thy conscious nothingness grow large!
The less thou seem'st in viewing infinite,
The greater, in admiring what is great.
Far as the view extends, creation scan;
Associate with the vast of objects bold,
Nor slight the scenes which wear a gentler mould.
From splendid imagery o'er every clime,
From beauty's impulse, to the touch sublime,
To fire the genius, and the soul expand.
All, all appears, by bounteous Heaven design'd,
A magazine of glory for the mind;
To furnish thought, the moral world adorn,
To bring to birth capacities unborn;
While conscious mem'ry's tablature retains
What sense admits, and rumination gains.
Thence in the scope of fancy's thoughtful sight,
Rise images in visions of delight.
So, in the lake's enchanting sky-lights glare,
To sense appears a ground of emblems fair,
Rocks, trees, and landscapes—a reflected show!
Imagination holds the world at will;
Recals to mental day the scenes anew,
Which, erst, have been depicted on the view;
And wakes to exercise those nobler powers,
Which caught vibration in departed hours.
Stor'd in the mind, the blank ideas lay,
Till brought to use, and cloth'd in bright array;
And wake in Virtue's cause the poet's fires.
Rapt, at his bosom's altar, Genius sings,
While Fancy strikes by spells the trembling strings.
It seems to be the decided opinion of the moderns who have searched into the labyrinths of the human mind, that all our primary notions are derived through the avenues of the senses; there being no other inlet of communication, except by Inspiration. In which latter case, we perceive no image, but after the manner of some elementary similitude. We feel certain powerful impressions of a moral nature, which appertain to happiness or misery, in view of certain external qualities, though they never present any figure to the mind: such as wisdom, benevolence, design; or properties of moral turpitude; and, as we can have no idea of any thing which has never been exhibited to the sensitive faculties, the antiquated theory of innate knowledge, or intuitive perception, is of course unphilosophical.
Ideas are said to be images reflected on the mind, as on the back ground of a camera-obscura; but they have this additional advantage: Having once been impressed, they are retained in the magazines of memory, at the call of every associate emergency. And it is wonderful to think, what a countless variety of ideas the mind is capable of receiving, without obliterating or confusing previous impressions! If amidst the bustle and tumults of life, they get jostled and derang'd; yet, as in the glassy lake when its fluctuations have subsided, they return upon the view in vivid perspective. Hence, Genius, ruminating over his accumulated materials, appropriates to his use, as conception shall suggest, imagination select, and ingenuity adapt and adorn; and a work which should contain new, and useful, and beautiful ideas and combinations, though it exhibit no other knowledge than that which is already within the precincts of human discovery, were worthy of immortality.
SECTION V.
Survey of Sublime Prospects, with Reflections.
How I admir'd, o'er rocks, through bosky ground,
To clamber up yon hill, that strikes the skies,
And see abroad unbounded prospect rise!
From east to west, afar, from pole to pole,
Or where, around the sun, the planets roll,
To send my raptur'd view, or thought sublime,
And catch magnificence from every clime!
And thousand splendours through the concave shone;
What! (said my soul,) are all these globes that stray,
Circling the solar orb with feeble ray;
And all those suns, remote, of starry light,
Which govern systems, out of human sight;
Made, only made, at man by spells to peep,
And wink his eye-lids to nocturnal sleep;
Then, when earth's monarch shows his morning face,
Retire in paleness, conscious of disgrace?
Or seems it to imagination's eye,
That they were made for candles to the sky,
To light the messengers of heaven, (as elves,)
Who by their own blest beams can light themselves?
Methinks for glory of th' Eternal Mind,
Analogous to fact, th' expanse unfolds,
Fit mansions for probationary souls.
But here I pause, and, with a deep-felt sense
Of scanty knowledge, sink in ignorance:
For, in the proudest march of human mind,
Void of the light, must Science still be blind,
And to the wand'rings of conjecture leave
What she has no sent message to receive;
Yet that exist, above this gorgeous roof,
Mansions for mortals, there is ample proof;
As on a rock, I on that fact will stand,
And lift in faith my eye to Nature's throne,
Though in that faith midst all the world alone.
“Of all the tracks of conveyance, which God has been pleased to open between the mind of man, and the theatre by which he is surrounded; there is none by which he so multiplies his acquaintance with the rich and varied creation, on every side, as by the organ of the eye. It is this which gives him his loftiest command over the scenery of nature. It is this which enables him, by the act of a simple moment, to send an exploring look over the surface of an ample territory, to crowd his mind with the whole assemblage of its objects, and to fill his vision with those countless hues which adorn creation.”
Chalmers.
SECTION VI.
A Glance at Ocean, a high Cliff, Torrent, Cataract, Alps in Switzerland, Mont Blanc—Alexander of Russia, illuminated, and his Fame, by Comparison.
Aspire to roam where lofty sights unfold;
Go to yon vasty shore, and there see, driven,
Old Ocean's breath along the skirt of heaven!
See where, in tumult of tremendous waves,
Unbounded uproar every region laves!
See Heaven-taught Commerce, with her flag unfurl'd,
In mighty triumph, sail around the world!
Go see the huge, rough cliff's projecting head,
Or, from stupendous heights, the river's bed!
Go view the rain-swoln torrent spreading wide,
With whelming fury its resistless tide!
And, where the pond'rous cataract headlong pours,
Stand all astonish'd, as it foams and roars!
Lost in amaze, so stricken with the sight,
Imbued with such a sense of grand delight;
How would your souls, as 'twere almost divine,
Stretch and expand for some august design;
Resolv'd to rise above a paltry state!
Or had you gain'd in Switzerland your birth;
Enormous mountains, of prodigious height,
Had rose sublime on your astonish'd sight!
There, piles on piles, disdaining all below,
Dwelling in mansions of eternal snow,
With towering peaks, embolden'd as they rise,
Touch heaven's high arch, and hail surrounding skies!
Some, ranging far, where mildly regions blend,
Wrapt in dark woods, or, shagg'd with rocks, ascend;
Gaps yawn abrupt, and gulfs, of awful depths,
Surprise the trembling pilgrim as he steps.
With instinct tread, walks safe on danger's brew.
O'er frightful precipices torrents pour;
The mountains deafen with eternal roar;
Huge cliffs, contiguous, cragg'd with fragments vast,
The sport of thunderbolts for ages past,
Seize the dread view, and mock the fearful eye,
As if inevitable death were nigh.
All round, th' amazing vastness of the clime
Strikes to the soul a terrible sublime.
Midst awful silence, save, perchance, the noise
Of some disruption falling from its poise—
Who could behold, and not devoutly stand,
Speechless, in contemplation of the grand?
Who, while the heavens about his vision roll,
That would not feel a glory of the soul?
“Crown'd with eternal ice,” and distant far,
Aloft and glittering like the morning star,
Mont Blanc appears, adorn'd with earlier ray,
His foot immers'd in night, his head in day;
As if induc'd, for some momentous cause,
He alter'd time, averse from general laws.
Nay, while the sun in seas his visage laves,
By men unseen, so plung'd beneath the waves;
As if, intent upon a glorious name,
He day forestall'd, to gain eternal fame.
For while the lagging rear of sable night,
Broods o'er surrounding Alps, and bars the light,
Beholds the morning and reflects her glows.
The Monarch of the north, with glory crown'd,
While o'er his empire mental darkness reigns,
Raises to heaven his eye, and light obtains;
Looks down in smiles upon his fellow race,
Of humbler rank, but not too low for grace;
Extends abroad his elevated views,
And opes a moral dayspring on the Jews.
On him the nations gaze with wond'ring eyes,
And spread his fame, exalted to the skies.
He turns to all, preserves the general peace;
The desert blossoms, villages increase;
Beneath his fostering care his empire grows;
Fair Science blooms, benignant Arts disclose;
And, by the sanction of his glorious name,
The sacred Scriptures gain extended fame.
By noblest virtues he adorns the throne,
Befriends the Conscience, frees the Christian slave,
And sends glad tidings o'er the distant wave!
Joy bless his days! the best which Heaven bestows;
Immortal honours crown his royal brows!
Prosper'd of Heaven, must Gospel Truth unfold,
Till moral beauty renovate the world.
Upon a like subject, Pope has given us an admirably fine description, in the following elegant and picturesque language:—
“So Zembla's rocks, the beauteous work of frost,Rise white in air, and glitter o'er the coast;
Pale suns unfelt at distance roll away,
And on th' impassive ice the lightnings play:
Eternal snows the growing mass supply,
Till the bright mountains prop th' incumbent sky;
As Atlas fix'd, the hoary pile appears,
The gather'd winter of a thousand years.”
It is said this mountain is so high, that it catches the beams of the morning, twenty minutes earlier, and retains them twenty minutes later, than the surrounding Alps. “Crowned with eternal ice,” it may be seen, purpled with eastern light, and crimsoned with western glory, from an immense distance; while mist and obscurity rest on the mountains below.”
SECTION VII.
Diffusion of Divine Truth—Blessed be the Missionaries!
Sublime of Chaos and Creation sung;
Down through the stream of years glides smooth along,
From age to age, the soul-inspiring song;
Far distant nations, still unknown to fame,
And sons unborn, shall catch the glowing flame!
So shall the Gospel, through the bourne of time,
Her voice resound with sacred charm sublime;
From soul to soul her forceful precepts run,
Convict the conscience, melt the heart of stone;
Salvation spread through vasty realms afar,
To darkling worlds, each messenger a star;
The clouds disperse before the morning gold,
In gladly light the moral day unfold;
To the sweet impulse of celestial love.
Then shall the beauty of the mind, like morn,
Brighten to smiles, and every look adorn;
No more the springs of hateful passions start,
But angel-kindness thrill from heart to heart;
Through every clime new streams of bliss take rise,
Till earth be all a perfect Paradise.
Unite to send glad tidings to the poles!
O highly bless'd, the Missioners inspir'd,
By truth illumin'd, by benev'lence fir'd,
Who traverse sea and land, with scroll unfurl'd,
To sound the glorious Gospel through the world;
To sow the field, a pleasing, arduous toil,
The Word the seed, the human soul the soil!
Zion! exalt thy head, with joyful ray,
And see the dawn of the millenial day!
Source of all love! O call the Chosen home,
And let the Kingdom of the Saviour come!
2. Part II.
SECTION I.
Morn—Apostrophe to Nature—Imagined Efforts under other Circumstances.
And vernal songs congratulate our ears;
Soft gleamings through the firmament expand,
And scenes obscure grow luminous o'er land.
Thy magic charm what poet can declare?
What genius represent thee as thou art?
So move the mind, so captivate the heart?
I cannot; yet, inspir'd my voice to raise,
Fain would I, wrapt in wonder, chant thy praise.
Or inspiration that to Heaven ascends;
I would attempt, with utmost grace and art,
To please the fancy, and improve the heart!
Elicit beams, like lightning, from the pen!
With apt expression's force inspir'd,
Exhibit nature, well-defin'd,
And press her moral on the soul!
As when some Painter, fir'd,
Seizes the pencil, nigh,
Portrays his vision to the eye,
And bids sublime emotion roll!
So, with superb description fraught,
The pen should give conception form,
The figure of the thought,
The words should glow, the sentiment should warm.
Should I perchance a transient thought adorn;
I boast not—covet not vain-glorious fame,
For who can find a substance in a name?
Vapid! illusive as the viewless air!
'Tis nought, unless intrinsic worth be there!
Some, virtue place in deeds conform'd to rule;
'Twere better, first, to fix it in the soul;
For, though an act overt produce no ill,
It may be void of goodness in the will.
The heart may not with worthy motive teem.
Man, as a complex being, is animal, rational, and moral. Understanding, conscience, and will, constitute him a free, responsible agent. Merely as an animal, he possesses many affable affections—handmaids at the door, though they are frequently taken as tenants, of the moral department. In the fashionable world, they pass under the character, and receive the appellation, of moral virtues; and, as messengers of the outer court, they are truly amiable; though they can never be communicants at the divine altar above, but under the conduct of a guest, who has something to recommend her above the common sympathies of nature: I mean Religion; whose every aspect and action are tinctured with a glow of benevolence.
SECTION II.
Effects of Pleasant Prospects—Good Humour—Rural Walk—Descriptions in which several Beautiful Objects are noticed—A perched Bird, singing; Ascending Vapour; An Eagle circling the Skies.
Indulgent Reader! still attend my song!
In all the richness of the noon of year,
When o'er the landscape countless hues appear,
New charms, unfolding, strike one with surprise;
And what surprises has its due control—
It leaves its force upon the thinking soul.
What sweet sensation, what delight refin'd,
A pleasant prospect spreads about the mind?
Lo! where the scene in native beauty dwells,
Or where the landscape, deck'd by art, excels;
The gentle breast admires its like to own,
And e'en the dull imbibes a cheerful tone!
A placid radiance brightens in the face;
So evening glides a darkling cloud with grace.
Yonder, a woodland nymph of liberty!
All-hale she seems, the ruddy child of morn,
Mid sportive airs and smiling prospect born;—
Her eye all soul, her look all charm,
Methinks she might a stoic warm;
For sprightly thoughts and frankness fam'd,
I know the nymph—Good Humour nam'd!
The spring-tide rapture taught her breast to thrill,
She learn'd her converse from the vocal rill,
Stole from the waving woods her manners dear,
And caught her pity from the willow's tear.
Pleas'd, through the scented lawn and shadowy grove,
Cheer'd by the songs of birds, she loves to rove;
And what is beautiful in every scene,
'Livens her mind, and luminates her mien.
Invite our footsteps o'er the dewy lawn,
Where we may hear the wild-trill'd music roll,
And welcome nature's charm upon the soul.
With dulcet strains he greets the neighb'ring realm!
How he exalts his head! his throat he fills—
Sight's charm'd with beauty, earls charm'd with trills!
Come let us trace the gentle stream along,
And list the little cherub's wildering song!
Then, from yon airy height upon the green,
Explore with transport the surrounding scene!
Delighted sit beneath o'erhanging shade,
As 'twere with souls for mutual converse made,
Till ebb'd emotion swell into a tide,
As we behold the prospect, far and wide!
Fair as the morn, its glassy bosom glows;
There, rolls a river through luxuriant lands,
Still further on, a silver lake expands;
Around, all-beauteous nature opes to sight
The softest, sweetest, aspects of delight;
Trees stand alone, or gather into groups;
The corn-blade triumphs o'er the fertile plain;
Far waves the glory of the golden grain;
While scatt'ring kine, enliv'ning all the scene,
The pastures range, or graze along the green;
And here and there, with a neat cottage crown'd,
The smoothly waving hills rejoice around;
While, half-embosom'd in yon circling bowers,
White with fair streams, and deck'd with fruits and flowers,
A lovely village, glistening to the rays,
Lifts its bright spire to Heaven in grateful praise.
Where, bending, stoops the thirsty steed to drink,
How beautiful yon rising vapour seems,
Its bosom glowing to the lucid beams!
Slow-upward on the viewless air serene
Its spiral folds in fleecy swells are seen;
It moves upon the balmy-breathing air,
Like Mercy, wing'd from Heaven to sooth despair.
When air is dense, and snows the ground adorn,
Emerging smoke from chimney's top ascends,
And, in a lengthen'd foam, convolving blends:
Perhaps first rising through some green-crown'd wood,
Not far from where our native cottage stood—
Beauteous its towers! a volume white as frost,
Till in the vast expanse of ether lost.
Steals soft along with sweetly-winding glide,
Its bosom burnish'd by the sapphire sky,
A soothing surface to the gazing eye!
Reflected from its crystal glare serene,
Surrounding objects in reverse are seen;
Except where ruffling down its rocky bed,
Straight it descends into a level spread;
Wide, and more wide, a broader course it laves,
Till mix'd with ocean's all-o'erwhelming waves.
Inconstant, as in fits, they rest or stray;
Oft they suspend their hasty course to hear
The falling rivulet that babbles near;
Then, starting instant, make a murm'ring noise;
The mountain nods, the vale is full of joys;
In all her virgin-prime, and blooming wreathes,
With vernal sweetness Nature perfume breathes;
At length, grown grave, she drops her gaudy suit,
Ripens her seed, and fills her branch with fruit;
Refresh'd meanwhile, by genial suns and rains,
Till, rich with gold, she crowns the joyous plains.
Lo! how the cluster'd grapes, in purple pride,
Hang in festoons upon the mountain-side!
Or on the slender tendrils of the vine,
That loves the hedge to hug, or bush to twine!
I turn my view, and, every where around,
See loaded August bending to the ground!
With grateful thoughts his ardent bosom glows.
What various kine, what numerous flocks are seen!
With greedy mouths some crop the tender blade;
Reposing, some enjoy the cooling shade;
Some pensive loiter; some, in sportive mood,
Race o'er the ground, pursuing and pursued;—
While, just emerg'd from desert woods alone,
Whither she, wand'ring from the plain, had gone,
Upon a distant height a heifer lows;
With head uplift, a handsome form she shows;
Along the winding basement of the hill,
A dark-grey courser stoops to drink his fill;
A thousand bleating sheep are scatter'd round,
The welkin rings, the solitudes resound.
The landscape, all alive upon the slope,
Presents to view a most enchanting scope.
So seem the forms, by mimic Art portray'd,
Beauteous illusions, mingling glare and shade!
A royal eagle darts around his eye!
Mute he remains, or screams aloud by spells,
And frightens Silence in her lonely cells.
O! 'tis a spectacle surpassing fair,
When, wing'd aloft, he swims the liquid air!
The boundaries of nature in his sight,
Lo! he kept lessening to my gazing eyes,
Till he had form'd a spire that reach'd the skies!
I mark'd my object as he smaller grew,
Till gone and lost from admiration's view.
Had man such buoyant wings, I said, he soon,
Perch'd on her hills, would hail the social moon;
Thence, in his rapt aspirings, waft his flight
To stars remote, or to the verge of light.
Thus vagrant were my live imaginings,
Till Reason woke, and Fancy dropt her wings.
The great Milton thus beautifully observes, “In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is soft and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature, not to go out and see her riches, and partake of her rejoicings with heaven and earth.”
SECTION III.
Evening.
When earth appears enchanted ground;—
A season—O divinely fair!
A time to heavenly musing due,
When objects soften on the view,
And Meditation loves to wander there;—
'Tis when the day's departing close
Looks from the west in golden gleams,
And gilds the lake with gorgeous glows,
While nature round like Eden seems;—
'Tis in that stealing, soothing pause,
When gentle birds, the fields along,
Have ceas'd to trill the vesper-song,
While evening mild her curtain draws,
And Labour drops the tool;—
'Tis when the harmonies of light and shade
Meet on the hill, and overspread the glade;—
'Tis then that scen'ry in its softness lies,
And, 'mongst the clouds, aerial visions rise.
Faint, and more faint, suffus'd with dusky grey,
Their dubious aspects slowly die away,
Till darkness, ever faithful to fulfil
Nature's great law, comes brooding o'er the hill.
Wide spreads the sable curtain of repose,
And grants the world oblivion to her woes.
“There are occasionally, in summer and autumn, such magical effects, such a universal tone of brilliant colouring, that the very air seems tinged, and an aspect of such harmonious splendour is thrown over every object, that the attention of the most indifferent is awakened, and the lovers of the beautiful in nature enjoy the most lively delight. These are the kind tints which the matchless pencil of Claude vainly endeavoured to imitate. They occur a few times in every year, a little before sunset, and under a particular state and position of the clouds.”
See Let. on East. States.3. Part III.
SECTION I.
Morn—An Ocean-Scene—Sublime Tempest—Its deliberate Preparations, and dread Pause, previous to its Onset.—Terrible Appendages, and woful Catastrophes.—The Tempest Moralized.
Then ting'd with gold, appears the morning ray.
Glad of the dawn, a labouring vessel rides;
Her men on deck in observation stand,
And, long depriv'd, rejoice to see the land.
Each tender thought, which absence more refines,
Each home-bred fondness, rises in their minds.
Flits swift athwart the sky its dragon-form.
The conscious mariner, with warning call,
As if alarm'd, cries out, A squall! a squall!
His head above the hills the tempest shows!
Vast, solemn, slow, in threat'ning aspect dress'd,
Black clouds, advancing, darken all the west!
Like mountains, pile on pile, they lowering rise,
And grumble through the chambers of the skies!
In warlike forms, they rank and file display,
And forward move in “terrible array.”
Brewing their thunder, they convolving foam,
And roll into themselves in angry gloom.
To give new strength and impulse to her laws,
Nature withholds her winds in solemn pause.
The scales are pois'd; the skies collect their force,
Deliberate in scowls, and change their course.
At length, on wings of saffron hue outspread,
They cast o'er earth a lurid-yellow shade.
From yon dark woods comes a portentous sound.
On hold of mortals dire forebodings take,
Heaven nods, earth trembles, despots, nations quake.
As when uncommon roaring of the waves,
Reverberates o'er rocks, and woods, and caves;
So comes the blast, with hollow-murm'ring noise,
Houses upsets, and nature's face destroys.
It comes, it comes! in whirls the gust appears,
And strikes old Ocean with tumultuous fears!
In flames it comes! impetuous, wild, and strong,
And, mix'd with sulphur, bears the hills along!
“And heaven descends” in cataracts of hail.
Spread awful devastation in their course;
The forest groans; upturn'd, it prostrate lies,
Or, seiz'd by whirls, in wild confusion flies.
Cities demolish'd, sacred temples, torn,
Aloft upon the reckless blasts are borne;—
Madly the tempest raves; still rough and strong,
Bursts o'er the strand, and, howling, drives along;
Rash in its onset, furious in its sweep,
And spends its vengeance on the boundless deep.
The mountain-billows flee before the gust,
While down from heaven o'erwhelming torrents burst.
Toss'd here and there, the ship unmasted rolls,
First strikes the skies, and next the fatal shoals.
Upon the roaring flood and howling air,
Resound wild exclamations of despair;
While mariners, long us'd the sea to brave,
Contend in vain, ingulf'd beneath the wave.
Air, water, land, by heat and cold convuls'd;
Dread omens rise; wide-belching Etna boils,
And earthquakes rumble o'er a thousand worlds.
Down mountains fall; vast empires are no more;
Realms sink to seas, the seas extend their shore;
Earth yawning wide, pale ghosts their graves forsake,
Spectators scream, and Nature's mansions shake!
Passion produces dire effects on Man.
By mad ambition mov'd, or vengeful ire,
His wrath elicits, like the lightning, fire;
Scorns rankle in his breast, to broils a prey;
No reason he will hear, no law obey;
Rage fires his brain;—furious, he headlong goes,
To wreak unhallow'd vengeance on his foes.
Fierce anger anger meets, death's darts are hurl'd,
And ruthless war depopulates the world.
SECTION II.
Other Objects Moralized.
Where'er we turn our eyes, some scene we find,
Some striking scope, or movement of control,
Adapted to the structure of the soul.
The social flames, those bland endearments warm,
Are but reflected Nature's soothing charm;
And great exploits, to which mankind attain,
Are nature's grandeur acted o'er again.
Perils and death, is seen in Ocean's wave;
And in the gloom amidst the lightning's glare—
Look! see'st thou not a grisly anger there?
Revenge is like the whirlwind; wizard spleen
In the bleak-whining, sullen blast is seen;
And like the moon, in chambers of the cloud,
Mopes, in her cell, the maid of dismal mood.
All scenes have sway, peculiar to their kind,—
Great Nature is the prototype of Mind!
Where, lorn, the pensive hermit loves to dwell;
Absorbs the soul,—a heaven-aspiring frame!
'Tis in thick woods and solitary shades,
Where silence reigns, and antient gloom pervades;
Where every object, of an awful kind,
To hallow'd contemplation wakes the mind.
Hark! frequent there, to echo's lonely cells,
His woes the bird of blood-spot bosom tells!
Hark! frequent, when the mournful bird is dumb,
The distant partridge rolls his breezy drum;
At frequent intervals, the raven moans,
And, sounding from afar, the desert groans:
Some moulder'd trunk perhaps, that, like a tower,
Falls from its thousand years, to rise no more;
As if impressing one with dismal dread,
A shock had rent the mansions of the dead;
And loud exploding, leaves an awful pause.
In such drear cells, such desolate domains,
O'er pensive souls a sacred horror reigns.
To such abodes immortal seers have turn'd,
And, frequent there, devotion's flame has burn'd;—
Sublime, like Night, the melancholy mood
There soars to heaven on wings of solitude.
On this subject, a much celebrated Rhetorician has remarked: “There are two great classes of moral qualities; one the high and great virtues, which require extraordinary efforts, and is founded on dangers and sufferings; as heroism, magnanimity, a scorn of pleasures, and the contempt of death. These produce, in the spectator, an idea of sublimity and grandeur. The other class is chiefly of the social virtues, and such as are of a softer and gentler kind; as compassion, mildness, and generosity. These excite in the beholder a sensation of pleasure so nearly allied to that by beautiful objects, that, though of a more exalted nature, it may, without impropriety, be classed under the same head.”
“It is an instinct common to all persons of sensibility, under a pressure of calamity, to seek shelter in places the wildest and most deserted; as if rocks were bulwarks against misfortune; or as if the calmness of nature could compose the troubles of the soul.”
Paul and Virginia.The tones of the turtle Dove, while evolving his varied melody, are exquisitely mournful and pathetic; and, with the idea of this blood-red spot upon his breast, there, associates a sentiment that is mystically affecting. During the spring months, the male bird exhibits such a spot, nearest his heart, which regularly disappears on the approach of summer, and does not return again, but with the months of love.
See St. Pierre's Stud. Nat.
SECTION III.
Effects of the Sublime, other than of Fear.
On scenes sublime, arrested by their laws;
(Though, says my soul, there's something awful here,)
Dost think there's no sensation but of fear?
Rapt at the view, with vast conception fraught,
Dilated with amazement at the thought;
Of self forgetful, eager to embrace
Expansion, boundless as the realms of space;
Than selfish, grovelling, soul-debasing fear?
Is there no flame, as lofty Fancy soars,
That seems devout?—a passion that adores?
Bends o'er the brink, and trembles at the sight;
Or looks aloft to some huge rock's grey brow,
That hangs with horror o'er the vales below;
Starts he not back, at the first view afraid,
Chill'd at the sight, and at the thought dismay'd?
And when to consciousness his reason wakes,
Mov'd by suggestions which reflection makes,
Trusting in this, that God is everywhere,
Does not a sense of his preserving care,
Drive dread away, and, with a soothing wile,
Soften the brow of terror to a smile?
For nought inspires with pleasing awe the soul,
Like a firm, tranquil trust in Heaven's control.
That is grand and sublime, (says Longinus,) which the more we consider, the greater ideas we conceive of it: whose force we cannot possibly withstand; which immediately sinks deep, and makes such impressions on the mind, as cannot be easily worn out or effaced.
SECTION IV.
Instances of the Moral Sublime in a Mariner, and in the Poet.
Where mountain-billows burst, and foam, and roar;
I scaled a cliff that frown'd with awful pride,
Hundreds of feet above the dashing tide.
With front undaunted, plough'd the heaving wave.
Fearless, midst threat'ning deaths, on either hand,
He boldly steer'd betwixt the rocks and sand.
Alas! 'twas where a noble ship was toss'd,
And every soul, except the mate was lost.
There, where the bluff and pond'rous surges broke,
I, since, have heard the groanings of the rock;
And many frightful voices seem'd to rise,
From midst the surf, resembling human cries;
Mixt with some hideous bird's lorn scream of wo,
Which rent, at intervals, the blustering blow;
As if some person, plung'd in black despair,
Call'd out for help, when no relief was there;
And seeing round him horrid perils press,
Utter'd by spells his agoniz'd distress;
Till, sudden dash'd against a ledge, aghast,
He breath'd his life out to the howling blast.
Close to that fatal reef and awful roar—
'Twas dust—I heard the spirit of the storm,
And thought I saw, 'mongst mists, his shapeless form.
Like the red moon, obscur'd, his visage seem'd;
From where his hand should be, a meteor gleam'd—
And, rous'd to fury, Ocean foam'd with fire.
Chill tremours, dreadful apprehensions rose.
Sudden, a huge, tall shape, to my surprize,
Black as old Chaos, came before my eyes;
Stood, mov'd, or seem'd, direct athwart my path,
And frown'd upon me with terrific wrath.
Fear seiz'd my hair; my creeping blood ran cold;
Aghast I stood, till horror made me bold.
Forth I advanc'd, regardless of my doom,
When flash'd his livid eye-balls through the gloom.
Then on a cloud he, hovering round me, came,
And thousand horrors thrill'd through all my frame.
I grasp'd a monstrous club upon the strand—
A foe thou art, I said;—thy looks are grim,
Is not a friendly spirit thin, pale, dim?
But thou art hateful as despair,
Thou goblin of ill feature!
Ugliest creature,
In water, earth, or air!
Who art thou, then,
Of ghastly mein?
“Guardian of Night!” (a sullen voice reply'd:)
But why obstruct my path? (I cry'd:)
Did ever I disturb Night's course?
“Avoid my frown!” (he answer'd hoarse.)
I fear thee not, (I said,)
Thou gloomy shade!
And art thyself afraid of light.
Wrapt in thy sombrous robe,
Thou roam'st each dreary waste
A vagabond forlorn,
A haunted ghost about the globe,
Scared at th' approach of morn,
Forever running, and forever chased.
So keep thy course, (I cry'd,) nor tempt my stroke;—
Heaven wields my arm, and durst thou Heaven provoke?
Raising my weapon, I advanc'd a pace,—
When, lo! the spectre mov'd before my face!
Stopp'd, as I stood, with seeming fury fir'd,
But, as he saw me resolute, retir'd.
Slowly he rose, and, gathering into poise,
Departed on a whirlwind with a noise.
Fear is one of the most powerful passions of our species. Originating from an apprehension of imminent danger, there is no other which so paralyzes effort, so disconcerts the sober exercise of the rational faculties. It produces effects upon the whole system; such as paleness, trembling, smiting of the knees, erection of the hairs of the head. Some of these symptoms are thus awfully described in the Book of Job: “In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face. The hair of my flesh stood up.”—There appears to have been a great excitement here, and a consternation, such as we might expect every degenerate son of Adam would feel, on a like occasion. But, if the mind be agitated by extreme fear, and conceive herself in great peril, without a possibility of escape; then, indeed, driven to utter desperation, she will assume a most terrible courage. At such a juncture, every pusillanimous feeling rises into a fortitude, that despises danger, and banishes even the dread of death.
SECTION V.
Moral Sublime in David.
A youth as brave, as ever mortal knew—
The stripling David:—dauntless and alone,
With what a godlike dignity he shone!
The mountains tremble at his haughty nod;
He keeps the ranks of Israel in affright;—
No practis'd warrior durst engage the foe;
Rich gifts are proffer'd—none has heart to go.
At length the lad, scorning the Giant's boasts,
Steps bravely forth midst all the trembling hosts,
So when the king of beasts, with onset bold,
Enter'd, and took a lambkin from the fold;
The gallant youth in generous anger rose,
And sought his royal majesty with blows.
As from the stroke the monster felt the wound,
He fell; earth shook; it thunder'd from the ground.
The victor then caught hold upon the beast,
And from his mouth the trembling lamb releas'd
The beast still rose; the youth advanc'd, prepar'd,
And seiz'd his awful presence by the beard.
Smote him anew, inflicting mortal pain,
And laid him smoking on the gory plain.
He ceas'd to scoff,—he ceas'd with pride to swell:—
The youth, advancing, drew the Giant's blade,
And sever'd from the trunk his horrid head.
In raptur'd shouts the joy of hosts arose,
And Israel's sons pursu'd their scattering foes.
SECTION VI.
Washington crossing the Delaware—His parting Scene—News of his death—His Character, a Prototype to future years.
When through the flood he led his valiant throng.
Above where Trenton roll'd his swollen tide,
Advancing forth upon the river-side,
He stood:—Cold, dark, eventful, was the night,
Deep, wide, and rapid, roll'd the current's might—
He saw the perilous scene, the flood survey'd,
Scann'd its dimensions, circumstances weigh'd;
Still held his purpose to surprise the foe,
To cross the stream, and strike the fatal blow.
He orders gave to stem the torrent's roll.
Impossible! his comrades, as they gaz'd,
Beheld a thousand deaths, and stood amaz'd.
The chief, undaunted, soon dispels their fears,
Impossible then possible appears.
Though small their numbers, yet a vet'ran band;
They under covert of the night mov'd down,
Surpris'd the camp, and soon possess'd the town.
He danger scorn'd, he rose above distress;
Firm as a rock amidst th' assaults of time,
Or, like Mont Blanc midst thunders, stood sublime.
Great was the soul of him the Poet sings;
He lives in rhyme above the rank of kings.
And the glad sons of arms look back on home.
His object gain'd, he left the battle-ground,
And gather'd his brave band of brothers round.
Affecting scene! a tender, manly grief,
Deep-labouring in his breast, o'erpower'd the chief.
“I cannot go (he said) to each of you,
But come to me;—I bid you all adieu.”
So each in turn, and each o'erwhelm'd appears.
Thus they, all speechless—some to meet no more,
Until arriv'd upon th' eternal shore.
Elected twice with no dissenting voice,
He who, in war, was greatest of the great,
But kept the peace and dignity of state.
Without a kingdom, and without a crown,
Clad in his own bright splendour, how he shone!
No more on earth great Washington appears!
When the sad tidings came, each patriot cry'd,
Alas! my country!—silent stood—and sigh'd!
Where, yearning o'er the spot, rest freedom weeps!
As ye draw near the hallow'd ground, ye brave!
Speak softly, and “tread lightly o'er his grave!”
Instruct your sons his name to venerate!
Shall not renown, that so deserv'd appears,
Become a prototype to distant years?
And lifts our admiration to its height;
We feel a moral grandeur in the breast;
Shall not the free-born Sons of future time,
Catch his great soul, and grow, like him, sublime?
General Washington crossed the Delaware on the night of the twenty-fifth of December, 1776, and, at day-break, marched down to Trenton. He completely surprised the enemy, who finding themselves surrounded, and, seeing that they must inevitably perish by further resistance, laid down their arms. Twenty-three officers, and eight hundred and eighty-six men, after thirty or forty Hessians had been killed, submitted. Captain Washington and five or six other Americans were wounded. The night on which they crossed the Delaware was remarkable for the severity of the cold, and a violent storm of hail.
See H. Adam's History.
SECTION VII.
Character of Alphonzo.
With whom each generous breast may wish to vie.
Enrich'd, expanded, with the flight of time,
O'er nature round, in transports of surprize,
Alphonzo casts his piercing, gazing eyes.
Struck at first view, he kindles with her fires,
Glows as she glows, and feels as she inspires;
In mem'ry's haunts depicted scenes remain;
What sense admits is intellectual gain;
To visual scope, the charms of landscape glow,
Or, absent, wake to fond reflection's view;
Taste grows accomplish'd, sentiment refin'd;
The noblest passions blossom in the mind.
And Truth divine, the favourite of his heart;
They deck his brows with marks of noble birth—
There's scarce a lovelier character on earth.
On him propitious Heaven had laid her claim;
Glad to his soul ethereal beauty came;—
He chang'd his views, his partial schemes gave o'er,
Surpris'd, that in Religion there was power.
He knew the joys which heavenly gifts impart,
Best proof he had, he felt them in his heart.
His will is subject to the golden rule;
With humble confidence and godly fear,
The vital precept he delights to hear;
To hang with ecstacy on Mercy's voice,
Walk in her light, and in her smile rejoice;
While in his breast the Christian graces move,
And the whole Human Species share his love.
Nay, when insulted, (for 'tis oft the case,
That Virtue's self is malic'd by our race,)
With open aspect, calm and self-possess'd—
(No servile fear arising in his breast—)
O! how he shines! too noble and serene,
To let a vengeful thought disturb his mien!
But wakes the stifled conscience of the foe.
Like midnight Eurus, blow the blast of death;
Though Envy charge him with egregious faults,
He stands sublime amidst the world's assaults.
Like Ocean's rock that lifts its dauntless form,
He casts aside the terrors of the storm.
His only are as spots upon the sun;
Lost midst the beams his character displays,
But, through a darkling medium, seen with ease.
And since, as Human is not all divine,
Defects, in contrast, make perfection shine;
Fauls which a generous eye would scarce perceive,
Are crimes an evious soul can ne'er forgive.
Nay, him indeed, whose walk is least in blame,
The sland'rous tongue tries mostly to defame;
But, having learn'd his passions to disarm,
Virtue alone can shield his breast from harm:
To make his life bespeak reproach untrue.
In views upright, no ever-haunting elf,
No keen upbraiding rankles in himself;—
Establish'd in his soul's essential cause,
Him, nature's God, and his own conscience, awes.
By fortune cast on life's tumultuous wave,
In hope or fear, he poises, justly brave;
His heart his compass, and the truth his pole,
His eye on Heaven, he stems the boisterous roll;
Avoids the fatal coast where Sirens hail,
Where strong the gulf-stream sets, he crowds all sail;
His mind at helm, with one grand end in view,
Though winds with clouds, and clouds with tempests, brew.
It is awell founded remark, that he who surrenders himself to the dominion of disorderly passion, is so much the less possessed of rationality. Every evil bias and every erroneous conception is then enlsted against the evidence of truth, and all the sober faculties of the soul are absorbed in one overwhelming feeling—that of selfishness, rendering its possessor contemptible.
“We call him a forgiving character, (says the amiable Melmoth,) who passes over with impunity an affront or injury in social life; but to resist giving blow for blow, when the temptation to recriminate lies fairly open, is thought to be the sublimest effort of human excellence.”
To this fine observation, I may be permitted to add, that he who retains a perfect command of himself on such an occasion, and improves the opportunity of soothing the irritation of his antagonist, and of restoring him to the influence of reason and conscience, puts that excellence to the sublimest use.
“One views all objects (says a perspicacious Author) through a prism: many contemplate virtue through a diminishing, and vice through a magnifying medium.” In accordance with this just and elegant remark, how very common it is, for the sentiments and opinions of men, to be warped aside from truth and fairness by the influence of prejudice and passion! Scandal for instance, rooted in the soil of malice, has grown rank and exuberant in the human breast, ever since the deplorable lapse of our progenitors. Some trivial failing, from which no one is exempt, is often grossly exaggerated, while the merit and splendour of virtue are, in like manner, extenuated and obscured. Such tokens evince a depraved spirit, or the influence of a detestable habit.
| Poems by Thomas Odiorne . | |