The Poems of John Byrom :: :: University of Virginia Library

Brute Creatures upon Earth enjoy the Store
That Nature yields, and never seek for more.
Sagacious Man, with huge Desire to know
Whence Things, their Causes and Connexions flow,
Takes a vain Course;—Death with black Wing is near,
And stops him in the Midst of his Career.

Why this, if God created naught in vain?
Why should the Mind the Seeds of Heav'n contain,
Not to produce the Fruit? What Profit brings
To search, to understand the Cause of Things,—
Thro' all below, thro' all above, the Sky,
Sun, Moon, and Stars, to penetrate,—and die?

545

If Death be all that follows Life's Parade,
Better to fool with Phyllis in the Shade;
To take the jovial Glass, the merry Dance;
To banish Care—and trust ourselves to Chance!
All Sense of Past, all Fear of future, Day
Let Wine, Diversions, Banquets drive away;
Let Cloë sing, Neæra touch the Lyre,—
Snatch present Joys, nor what's to come enquire!

In vain, alas, the Precept to enjoy;
Scarce do we taste the Pleasures, but they cloy.
Let Trifles, then, be seriously dismiss'd;
Have Wealth as great, or glory as you list,—
Ambition prosperous as it can be,—
Surrounding Crowds attend at your Levee,—
What more you please:—'tis all but one same Call
To cry: “Alas! What Vanity 'tis all!”

Where must we go then? To what friendly Shore?
So, pent in Bodies, Minds would fain explore
Where Truth's eternal Mansions may be found,
Whither (so Nature tells them) they are bound.
Mind was not made for transitory Joys,
But Bliss congenial that no Change destroys,—
Bliss, like itself, for ever to endure.
Take Courage then—the Works of God are sure,
Nor wrought in vain; nor shall the Limits bind
Of this corporeal mortal Clay the Mind!
Clear she shall flourish from terrestrial Stain,—
For ever flourish, free'd from ev'ry Chain;
Her kindred Heav'n th' old Native shall review,
And drink of Truth's eternal Spring anew,—

546

The vital Draught nectareous, and recruit
Her deathless Vigour with perennial Fruit.

Here,—in this Life, if it deserve the Name
This—in the Husk of a corporeal Frame—
Unspread her Wing, unrous'd her vivid Force,
Yet much the Token of her ancient Source,—
How does she so remember, how deduce,
From Things dispos'd such Order and such Use?
So rich a Treasure, so immense a Train,
Corporeal Stowage little could contain,
Less reproduce; such Privilege the Part
Of Mind—Inventress of the various Art—
That taught to needy Life Grace and Defence,
Gave Names to Things, and tied a vocal Sense
To Letters; brought the wild dispersed Clowns
From brutish Rambling to abide in Towns;
Tam'd them by Laws, united by Consent.
What, by all this, but Force Diviner meant,—
But Sense Ethereal, Spirit above Death;
Virtue excited by Celestial Breath?

What Pow'r enlivens eloquent Discourse
To flow, to thunder, with such rapient Force?
Is it not, think ye, more than mortal Fire?
The Bards—what animates their sacred Quire?
For whether Verse well turn'd, canorous, clear,
With varied Sweetness lapse into the Ear,
Or imaging the Truth by Fiction's Aid,
With fabl'd Wonders winningly display'd,
Rove thro' the inmost Heart—the Bard meantime
Breathes nothing little, nothing not sublime.

547

Whilst here on Earth the things that we behold,
All in the same revolving Circle roll'd,
Tell not the Mind that looks for ampler Dues;
The sacred Bard presents sublimer Views,—
A fairer Scene, of ev'ry Wish the Sum,—
The Hope, the Presage of a Life to come.

If skill'd celestial Motions how to solve,
How the huge Planets round the Sun revolve,—
Thro' the vast Void to trace the Comet's Line,
When other Suns on other Planets shine,—
Is not this high, this Heav'n-pervading Mind
Come down from Heav'n, from Heav'n again design'd?

Plain, in these Efforts of the Mind to see
A Force innate, from Dregs material free;
Self-conscious Will too, Love and Hatred shown,
Fear, Hope, Joy, Grief, are plainly all her own,—
No lumpish Properties; she can compare
Or sep'rate things by merely mental Care;
Can gather distant Truths and reunite
The scatter'd Portions in one friendly Light:
Draw hence the Cause of Things and the Design,
And in fair Order Arts with Arts combine,
More near to Truth still rising and more near,
Till the whole causal Serïes appear.
The Chain descending from th' Almighty's Throne,
From Heav'n to Earth—Ideas, too, her own—
She can inspect, and inward Notice take
Whence, how, they rise—and almost know her Make.

Is Pow'r corporeal such? Machines, do they
Know their own Strength, or on what Food to prey?

548

For Body is but mere Machine alone,
Mov'd by external Impulse—not its own.

Judge not by vulgar Men the noble Mind,
But such as Worth to future Praise consign'd;
As Rome or Greece,—ev'n now illustrious dead—
Or England, unsurpass'd by either, bred;—
The Nurse of Heroes, in her better Times,
What Bards have blest her with diviner Rimes;
With Laws what Sages; how many renown'd
For Eloquence, for Science, has she found,
Tho' brought to Light by Culture late begun;
When Bacon, rising like th' ethereal Sun,
First taught the Path of Arts,—first made appear
Philosophy from idle Figments clear;
And tracing Step by Step the faithful Ray,
Where the sure Guide Experience led the Way,
To Newton, born her Treasures to command,
He show'd the Track and gave the Torch in Hand!

Illustrious Souls! May your Example move
Britannia's Sons still further to improve;
To high Attempts th' awaken'd Mind to raise,
And by true Virtue merit ancient Praise!

Not without Heav'n, with Genius so sublime,
Could Man be born;—but God, in ev'ry Time,
Has here and there, like Stars amidst the Night,
Besprinkl'd Minds of more Resplendent Light;
That a degen'rate Age might catch the Flame
And own from what High Origin Man came.

549

Besides, a Something for us is confest,
When we are dead, in ev'ry conscious Breast;
'Tis shown within 'tis ancient Learning's Thought;
'Tis public Voice—no Nation so untaught
As all beyond the Grave to disregard!
Hence Oaks, slow-growing, posthumous Reward,
Are sown for Grandsons' Profit; hence appears
The Pyramid that braves the gazing Years;
Hence all the Care about a living Name,
When Men are dead; so valued future Fame,
That who excels in any Thing will run
Thro' evr'y Danger, no Fatigue will shun,
If only some fair Prospect of Renown
Flatter, from Age to Age descending down!
Do not we see that Convicts, doom'd to die,
Confess their Guilt, sometimes perhaps deny
At instant Death—why willing, or why loth?
The Future only can account for both;
While Penitents discern, and dread the Lot,
The harden'd Rogue has all but Fame forgot:
'Tis Nature's Instinct, or obscure or plain,
Of more than Dust and Ashes to remain!

Why about Funerals such anxious Care
What means of Tombs the operose Affair?
Some lay the bloodless Carcass in the Ground,
And deck the Grove with Flow'rs, each annual Round
Renewing Rites that Ashes scarce require,—
Some rear the Pile, and burn it in the Fire;
Then place the Relics of the Friend they burn
To last for Ages in the faithful Urn.

550

Where Nile's rich Flood the fertile Grounds o'erflow'd,
Neither to burn nor bury was the Mode.
They fill'd th' unbowell'd Chest and emptied Scull
With thick, bituminous Confection full;
In spicy Pitch when thus embalm'd they roll'd
The Corpse with close drawn Fillets, many a Fold;
Preserv'd the Shape, or what they could at least,
And on the Surface pictur'd the Deceas'd.
Such inbred Hope and Trust in Men alive,
That something after Death is to survive;
One Truth exprest by ev'ry outward Art:
Nor Time, nor Fate, can kill our better Part.

See in the Realms where Indian Ganges rolls
A Race of Men with too too eager Souls,
Of Life impatient, rush into the Fire,
Or at their Idol Shrines from Life retire.
Tho' blind, to Hopes of quiet Seats they run
Of Spring perpetual and unclouded Sun.

Not less renown'd in Fame, the Eastern Wives
To their dead Husbands sacrifice their Lives.
Their Loss no womanish Complaint proclaims;
They mount the Pile, and join them in the Flames:
Each hopes, Companion to her dear-lov'd Spouse
In other Regions to renew her Vows.

See in the North with equal Ardour glow
Unconquer'd Nations in eternal Snow;
Whom, with untam'd Contempt of Living fierce,
Nor Foe can vanquish nor can War coerce!
They love their Country,—Love's Reward their Aim,
Thro' Fires and Swords they push the patriot claim.

551

Add what old Times of Fields Elysian spake,
Of Phlegethontic Wave and Stygian Lake,—
Fictions of Priestly Fraud—be that the Case;
'Twas inbred Notice that gave Fraud a Place;
Sure of the Future tho' imperfect View,
All Fiction builds on Something that is true.

Because 'tis difficult to think of Mind
From Body and from grosser Sense disjoin'd,
Corporeal Form to it the Vulgar give,
And Looks, and Limbs, and Place wherein to live,—
To wonted Likeness fashioning their Schemes;
Which others holding for delirious Dreams,
(The How not known of its surviving state)
Deem it extinguish'd by one common Fate,—
Or that they care not for much Cost of Thought,
Or shame to own their Ignorance of aught!
If true from false not easy to discern,
Shake off all Sloth then, nor refuse to learn,
For any Tales that Fraud has interspers'd
Or some vain Poets petulantly vers'd!

What! Is not God's Existence own'd by all,—
Consent, which rightly Nature's Voice they call?
And yet, what false unworthy Notions fram'd,—
Sex, Passions, Vices; Gods a Number nam'd;
Scarce any Object of their Hopes or Fears
But what Men deified in former years!
Such as they lik'd for Gods propitious pass'd,
Sinistrous else; till Madness, at the last,

552

With reptile Deities their Temples stor'd,
And even Leeks and Onions were ador'd.

Pond'ring these Ills, the great Athenian Sage
Foretold His Coming in the destin'd Age,
(He came, desir'd; the Nations, since He came,
The Help and Advent of a God proclaim)
Whose Divine Light should give dark Minds the Day
Guide them to Truth and mark the certain Way.

Meanwhile, full many Signs of Truth to Sight
Had Nature shown, tho' through obscurer Light.
Let us then, see how far Conjectures rise,
Nor Reasons Help, if it can give, despise!

Body and Mind agree, I don't deny,
In many Things—it is their mutual Tie:
But Mind in many differs, that define
Her Nature different and her Race Divine.

We often see to Body firm and strong,
Healthy, robust, a feeble Mind belong;

553

To weak, full oft one of surprising Force;
If Death together kill them both, of Course
They both should sicken in the same Degree,—
Reverse again of what we often see;
That, when Death comes, the cold approaching Hour
Sharpens the Mind and warms with entheous Pow'r.
What Eloquence have dying Men, what Fire!
They speak prophetic Words—and then expire.

If Mind like Body elemental, whence,
Tho' Sleep shut up the Inlets of all Sense,
Without external Objects can the Mind
On inward Scenes expatiate unconfined;
Just as a Bird, uncag'd, takes Wing to fly,
Mounts upward and exults in open Sky?

Mind of corporeal Nature, it is plain,
Must Parts in Number infinite contain,
Each one of which will have its Sense and Soul,
And many diff'rent Minds distract the Whole.
In such a System, grant it to exist,
Say how can Truth and Equity subsist,—
How Life's one Tenor in the jarring Host,
And this same conscious Virtue that we boast?

Perhaps this Mind, this Matter's Force occult,
May from its Figure and its Site result?
As if the Square was wiser than the Round!
Parts you may add, diminish, or compound;
But Site, and Figure, for the mental Track
No more accounts than Colour, white or black.

Motion may do't—what will not Motion do?
Yes—Reason, Speech, and Will, and Wisdom too,

554

Is all but Rope and Pulley—proper Size,—
And last, his Top, the Lad will make it wise!
So will the Liquor, boiling in the Pot,
With flowing Eloquence grow richly hot.
But whence comes Motion? Mind is the one Thing,
Not passive Body, that is Motion's Spring:
As God the World, so its corporeal Frame
Mind agitates, and inward moving Aim.

Cease then to wonder, when the Body's gone,
That living Mind continues to live on!
What Death, I rather wonder, with what Darts,
Can e'er destroy it, since it has no Parts?
It cannot perish by external Blow;
It is the Mover of itself, we know;
And that which Motion to itself can give,
Leaves not itself—it must for ever live.

But who can well conceive a Thing to be,
From certain Shape and Situation free?
What then is Deity? The Mind Divine,
Far as we know, no Figure can confine
Or Place contain,—unless you will suppose
That God Himself is Matter;—if He knows,
Pure Simple Spirit, Grossness of no Kind,
No more does God's fair Image, human Mind.
Mark its Self-Pollency; what greater Sign
Of Breath Ethereal, Progeny Divine?
Ev'n here, while tether'd to this mortal Shape,
Oft, on the Stretch, it meditates Escape;
Like a strange Guest on Earth, from foreign Ties
Springs up and longs to reach its native Skies.

555

Go now, admire a World of fading Things;
Fly, busy Insect, with thy gilded Wings;
Feed on its Dews and flutter in its Air;
Soon to be Nothing, of aught else despair!
Is this the whole of Life,—thus void of Hope,
Of all its flatt'ring Promise this the Scope?
How much more real that, that Life of Man,
Where truth at once discovers all its Plan;
Not by Degrees, thro' long Deductions drawn,
Clear Intuition sees the cloudless Dawn!

You'll say, perhaps, that Mind to Body link'd
Cannot perceive when Senses are extinct;
With them it grows, and ceases when they cease;—
How then gives Mind to Senses an Increase?
For their Defect by Help of Art it clears;
And Eyes to Eyes it adds, and Ears to Ears.

Hence, higher rais'd than human Lot's Purlieu,
It calls the Stars of Heav'n to nearer View;
Great Earth's hid Treasures mast'ring, it descries,
And pores in Systems too minute for Eyes;
New Worlds of Wonder Wit brings forth to Light,
And mends the Seeing with superior Sight;
Of Form, and Bulk, and Distance it decides,
And judges rightly, where the Sense misguides.
Shows not all this a Pow'r from Sense sejunct,—
Ethereal Science? Body then defunct,
These short Excursions indicate the Mind,
For more unbounded Range of Truth design'd.

How will it be?—That Knowledge is to come,
No Part of ours; the Life within the Womb,

556

Know you what 'twas? Knows he that was born blind
Delights of Colour?—No; but he can find
That others know them, tho' himself does not.
So knows the Mind in this her present Lot,
Amidst the Scenes unequal to her Care,
That some unknown, eternal Forms, and fair,
Are shown to Minds more vig'rous and sublime;
To these she gives her Wishes, and her Time.
Fine Beauty's Absence, absent, she deplores,
And smit with secret, conscious Love adores;
Shuns human Haunts and seeks the silent Wood,
To meditate alone th' Eternal Good;
To sooth her Cares with Thought of future Things
And Verse, to make them present while she sings.

That Man I reckon to have liv'd indeed,
Who having seen how all Things here proceed,
With equal Mind and constantly good Aim
Returns, contented Guest, to whence he came.
Whether you count an hundred Years or few,
The same old Scenes come round and round anew.
The World has nothing better to bestow;
Deem then this transitory State below
A public Market or a Spacious Inn;
Where for a while when floating Life has been
With Cares and Trifles tost of ev'ry Sort,
Who leaves it first, is first got into Port!
Haste thither then; contract the daring Sail;
Steer into Harbour, lest Provisions fail;
Haste! The Disease, the Death of the dear Friend,
Th' infirm old Age,—what Ills on Life attend!

Where do I run? We must and ought to stay,
Till He Who plac'd us here, call hence away.
Thro' Hopes, thro' Fears, this Leader we can trust;
He bids us bear—and therefore bear we must.

557

But, were I sure that this poor Life was all,
My eager Wish would be a sudden Call
To go where sooner, later, from the Stage
All Actors drop,—to sleep an endless Age.
Nay, Youth renew'd, if it were giv'n to choose,
Or cradl'd Infancy, I would refuse.

Not all the Blessings of the Life, not Health,
Wit, Elocution, Prudence, Manners, Wealth,
Unenvied Honour, num'rous Issue, known
Both by their Fathers Virtues and their own;—

Not for all this Reward would I compound
To run again a Race of mortal Round!
The Mind's Expectance just as well as high
Nothing can equal;—that can never die.