The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke

... In Four Volumes Octavo. Revised and corrected by the Original Manuscript With a Portrait of the Author, and His Life By Miss Brooke. The Third Edition

Brooke, Henry (1703?-1783)

VOL. I.

JACK THE GIANT QUELLER, AN OPERA.

RUTH: AN ORATORIO.

PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF ESSEX,

PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND,

ANOTHER PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND.

EPILOGUE TO THE PLAY OF WHAT WE MUST ALL COME TO.

TO THE MEMORY OF Lieutenant Colonel HENRY CLEMENTS.

A CHARACTER.

TO Mr. B---

THE PATRIOTISM OF IRELAND,

II.

IV.

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I. VOL. I.

JACK THE GIANT QUELLER, AN OPERA.

[Verses extracted from the opera]

[_]

Speakers' names have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:

For Plut. read Plutus or Wealth.
For 1st Beg. read 1st. Beggar.
For Gallig. read Galligantus or Power.
For 1st. Shep. read 1st Shepherd.

AIR I.

[_]

Tune, “At the tree I shall suffer with pleasure.”

I

The Laws they were made for the Little,
The Laws they were made for the Little,
In the hands of the Strong,
All the ties, that belong
To Justice and Honour, are brittle.

II

The Laws they were made for the Little,
The Laws they were made for the Little,
Though Churchmen may preach,
And Philosophers teach,
The Great will not list to a tittle.

III

The Laws they were made for the Little,
The Laws they were made for the Little;
It is not by Right,
But by wrong-doing Might,
That Giants still scape a Committal.

AIR II.

Plut.
This scepter'd hand all nations own,
All religions hold divine—
I the king of every throne;
I the god of every shrine!

II

Gold is every woman's lust;
Gold is every man's desire;
Gold the covert patriot's gust;
Kneel my sons, and own your sire!

AIR III.

[_]

Tune, “Moll Roe.”

Plut.
Would you silence a Patriot committee,
Touch their lips with this magical Wand;
Through country, and senate, and city,
'Tis the lock and the key of the land.

II

Take a piece of this same from your coffer,
Display to the Voter your pelf;
And the wretch, having nothing to offer,
Will frugally sell you—Himself.

III

'Tis a shot for the fowl of all feather,
A bait for the gust of all fish;
To this every gudgeon will gather,
And plump, ready drest, in your dish.

IV

If the booby, your Pupil, so dull is,
He scarce can remember his name;
Yet his mouth it shall open, like Tully's,
When fed with a spoon of this same.

V

To a rascal, a bear, and a blockhead,
Unconscious of mood, or of tense,
This plastic receipt, in his pocket,
Gives grace, figure, virtue, and sense.

VI

Old Saints will for this sell their manuals;
O'er this, at your sovereign nod,
Old Judges will skip like young spaniels,
And Cardinals kiss you this rod.

VII

To study aught else is but nonsense;
From hence all Philosophy springs—
'Tis the Crown, Beauty, Cause, and Good Conscience,
Of Priests, Ladies, Lawyers, and Kings.

AIR IV.

[_]

Tune, “Peggy Benson.”

I

In the Church, where your dignifi'd doctors you find,
Such holy men refrain, son;
For, uplifted by us, and our offices kind,
Their sanctify'd pride they sustain, son.

II

Let governors thrive, and each Prince, on his throne,
In peace and plenty reign, son;
Till you find that by talents, and virtue, alone,
One man shall to honour attain, son.

III

Let Party in turbulent senates debate,
Nor matters it who shall gain, son;
Till you find that one act for the good of the state,
Shall have enter'd in either's brain, son.

IV

Let the law be your care, nor one tittle retrench,
But support each furr'd robe in its station;
For they, as our substitutes, sit on the bench,
To decide the affairs of the nation.

V

In Cities, tho' Czars of a pitiful sphere,
Would you know who would be our relation?
'Tis the Alderman's Worship, and sudden Lord Mayor,
Who struts through his yearly creation.

VII

Each fox-hunting justice and landlorded youth,
Are prone to your point, when they may, son;

For these, too, are little Grand Signiors, forsooth,
And Giants, each man in his way, son.

AIR V.

[_]

Tune, “If all the fair maids.”

I

Ambition lik Jack-o'-the-Lanthorn bewitches;
Ambition like Jack-o'-the Lanthorn bewitches;
And leads; you benighted through dirt and through ditches.
Dol de dol, &c.

II

Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;
Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;
And virtue, tho' humble, looks down upon riches.
Dol de dol, &c,

III

Your great men, and statesmen, the higher their pitch is,
Your great men, and statesmen, the higher their pitch is,
By climbing the broader, but shew us their breeches.
Dol de dol, &c.

AIR VI.

[_]

Tune, “Dole and woe fa our Cat.

I

How often our Mother has told,
And sure she is wonderous wise!
In cities, that all you behold,
Is a fair, but a faithless disguise:
That the modes of a court education
Are train-pits, and traitors to youth;
And the only fine language in fashion,
A tongue that is foreign to truth.

II

Where Honor is barely an oath;
Where knaves are with noblemen class'd;
Where nature's a stranger to both;
And love an old tale of times past

Where laughter no pleasure dispenses,
Where smiles are the envoys of art;
Where joy lightly swims on the senses,
But never can enter the heart.

III

Where hopes and kind hugs are trepanners;
Where Virtue's divorc'd from success;
Where cringing goes current for manners,
And worth is no deeper than dress.
Where Favour creeps lamely, on crutches;
Where Friendship is nothing but face;
And the title of Duke, or of Duchess,
Is all that entitles to Grace.

AIR VII.

[_]

Tune, “Lochaber.”

Jack.
Farewel to my Gracey, my Gracey so sweet,
How painful to part!—but again we shall meet.
Thy Jack, he will languish, and long for the day,
That shall kiss the dear tears of his sister away.
Tho' Honour, in groves of tall laurel, should grow;
And fortune, in tides, should eternally flow;
Nor Honour, nor Fortune thy Jack shall detain,
But he'll come to his Gracey, his Sister again.

II

Again, at our door, in the morning of spring,
To see the sun rise, and hear Gold-finches sing;
To rouse our companions, and maids of the May,
In copses to gambol, in meadows to play.
Or, at Questions and Forfeits, all rang'd on the grass:
Or to gather fresh chaplets, each Lad for his Lass;
To sing, and to dance, and to sport on the plain,
Thy Jack shall return to his Gracey again.

III

Or alone, in his Gracey's sweet company blest,
To feed the young Robins that chirp on the nest;
To help at her med'cines, and herbs for the poor,
And welcome the stranger that stops at the door.
At night, o'er our fire, and a cup of clear ale,
To hear the town-news, and the Traveller's tale;
To smile away life, till our heads they grow hoar,
And part from my sheep, and my Gracey no more.

AIR VIII.

[_]

Tune, “Dremondoo.”

Grace.
O now he has left me, what care shall employ,
What object afford me the shadow of joy?
To a heart so o'erladen, all Sorrows are meet;
Misfortune is welcome, and mourning is sweet!

II

Away, ye companions of daily delight,
And pastimes that gently could steal on the night
Away, ye fond sports of the wake, and the fair!
Your pleasures are vanish'd—no brother is there!

III

Of the Ball, and the Hurling, the Dance, and the Race,
His skill was the victor, his person the grace:

The Maidens throng'd round him, delighted to see,
And wish'd they had all been his sisters, like me.

IV

Thus, every dear scene of my former delight,
To my mind will recal him, but not to my sight;
The trees will all droop, and the meadows look lone;
And all say—poor maid! thy Companion is gone!

AIR IX.

[_]

Tune, “Grana Weil.”

I

Though passions contend, and afflictions storm,
And shake the frail state of the human form;
If virtue the base of our pile sustain,
Afflictions shall rage and assault in vain.

II

The path for the steps of all mortals made,
Is simply to follow, where Truth shall lead:
Nor thou from its rectitude turn aside;
The rest, let hereafter, and heaven provide.

AIR X.

[_]

Tune, “I have six pence under my thumb.”

I

How sweet the gossiping birds that sing!
How sweet the treasure the zephyrs bring,
Light wafted on each odoriferous wing
That winnows the breast of flowery spring!

II

How sweet the showers with balm replete!
The fawns that frolic, and lambs that bleat!
But O! above all, though all should meet,
Our Justice, our Queen of sweets is sweet!

AIR XI.

[_]

Tune, “To you fair Ladies now on land.”

Justice.
The world, a faithless ocean, tost
By passion's stormy wind,
Is spread with spoils of thousands lost,
The wreck of human kind;
Where all the freight their vessels bear,
Is but a wilful weight of care.

Dol lol, &c.

II

For what can Reason's feeble hand,
Before the helm perform,
Where he can spy nor port, nor land,
To scape from stress, or storm—
Where Hope, amid the raging main,
Her anchor casts,—but casts in vain?

Dol lol, &c.

III

O turn, misguided wights!—return
To us, who smile on shore!
To us, who, yet, your errors mourn,
Your safety who implore!
Your forfeit peace with us renew,
Who shed no tears—except for you.

Dol lol, &c.

AIR XII.

[_]

Tune, “Twang-dillo dee.”

Justice.
But we to Nature who adhere, nor farther bliss require,
To lop the root of all our care, we lop each vain desire.

II

We ask no Cynic law, nor saw, nor scrolls of bearded men;
For Nature's the most learned book that Innocence can ken.

III

To baffle want, and sweeten toil, from debt and danger free;
We learn instruction from the Ant, and the industrious Bee.

IV

From Dogs we learn unfailing faith, affection from the Dove;
And from the Hen, who guards her Chick, a Parent's circling love.

V

And last, we, to all bounteous Heaven, our daily tribute yield;
Taught by the fragrant incense breath'd from every grateful field.

AIR XIII.

[_]

Tune, “Ye Commons and Peers.”

Jultice.
The time to beguile,
Now listen a while.
And I'll shew you an excellent plot;
How Husband and Wife,
Thro' the crosses of life,
May be held by the true-lover's knot.

II

As mortals are frail,
Let indulgence prevail,
And all mutual infirmities blot;
Let the Husband but own
His Wife errs not alone,
And I'll vouch for the true-lover's knot.

III

My Dolly so bright,
Should your Hob, over night,
Be surprized by his pipe, or his pot;
Let him sleep his dose out,
Nor, by scolding or pout,
Strive to loosen the true-lover's knot.

IV

When your Wives they grow grey,
And their graces decay,
Of all mortal beauty the lot;

Remember their youth,
And, by friendship, and truth,
Make eternal the true-lover's knot.

AIR XV.

[_]

Tune, “A begging we will go.”

1st Beg.
However some in Coaches, on Barrows some may beg;

'Tis want that makes the Mendicant, and not the wooden leg.
When a begging they do go, &c.

II

'Tis thus, by greater poverty, that Nobles grow renown'd;
For where we want a penny, friend, State Beggars want a pound.
And a begging they do go, &c.

III

Your Courtier begs for Honour—and that's a want indeed!
As many should for Honesty, but will not own their need,
When a begging they should go, &c.

IV

Your Vizier begs for subsidies, your Party-man for place;
Your Church-man, for a benefice;—but not a man for Grace,
When a begging they do go, &c.

V

Thus all, from Rome to London, are of the begging train;
But we, who beg for Charity—must look to beg in vain,
When a begging we do go, &c.

AIR XV.

[_]

Tune, “Fie, let us awa to the Wedding.”

Jack.
Yet many, when Beggars are pressing,
Of bounty are nothing loth;
The Bishop will give you—his blessing;
The Officer give you—his oath.
Of his promise, to be a free donor,
The Courtier is little nice;
And Great-ones will give you—their Honour!
For these are of little price.

AIR XVI.

[_]

Tune, “A Cobler there was.”

Jack.

I

You yet may behold the surprize of the town,
To see truth elated, dishonour pull'd down;

All tricks, low and little, despis'd by the Great,
And Honesty fix'd for a maxim of State!
Derry down, &c.

II

To see our lac'd Lordlings deserving of trust;
Our Clergymen pious, our Justices just;
Our Court Ladies blush; and our thing of a Beau,
A something, beside a mere nothing but shew.
Derry down, &c.

III

To see worth and talents to office preferr'd;
The Virtuous rewarded; the Vicious deterr'd;
And the streams of polution, where people resort,
New fed from the clarify'd springs of our Court.
Derry down, &c.

IV

To see Freedom loyal; Elections unbrib'd;
All Faction exil'd, and Corruption proscrib'd:
Pure Nature exalted o'er masking and art;
And Dominion possess'd of it's seat in the heart.
Derry down, &c.

V

To see Mirth, with Innocence, walking the land;
And Probity taking Free-trade by the hand;
And the Courts of our Law from iniquity clear,
O then, what a rare revolution were here!
Derry down, &c.

Chorus.
And the Courts, &c.

AIR XVII.

[_]

Tune “Chevy Chace

But since by mortals 'tis confest,
The shafts of Fate must fall;
I'll take firm Patience to my breast,
And smile, secure of all.

AIR XVIII.

[_]

Tune, “Delia, by Arne.”

Jack.
O form'd of harmony and light!
Too bright for sense to bear!

Art thou to feeling as to sight?
Essential as thou'rt fair?

II

If some illusion from the skies,
In pity yet delay;
Nor melt, sweet object, from my eyes;
In fleeting air away!

AIR XIX.

[_]

Tune, “Two Gossips they luckily met.”

I

The Indies thy Toilet shall grace;
For thee shall earth, ocean, and air,
From the gin, and the net, and the chace,
Each costly collation prepare.

II

All seasons their sweets shall dispense,
And a round of long happiness roll;
And bliss, through the gates of each sense,
Shall enter and mix with thy soul.

III

Fair Phœbe shall light up her horn,
To watch the repose of thy charms;
And each blushing and rapturous morn
Shall find thee reclin'd in my arms.

AIR XX.

[_]

Tune, “Who'll see my Gallantee Shew.”

Jack.
I'll first present you a prime minister,
See from thought or action sinister!
Public good his square and measure;
Himself his Country's trust and treasure.
And is not this a shew?

II

Here's Humility in high station!
Dignity stript of ostentation!

Friendship, here, outgoes profession;
Here is power, without oppression!
Oh the finest shew!

III

Who'll see honesty in a Miser?
Fops, from France, return the wiser?
Wealthy Poets, and poor Receivers?
Lawyers in future rewards believers?
Oh the curious shew!

IV

Here's dependance, without servility;
Peers, to Virtue who owe Nobility;
Next, where Piety weds with Prelacy:
But you scarce will credit, till you see,
Such a wond'rous shew!

AIR XXI.

[_]

Tune, “Poddreen Mare.”

Jack.
Come all you gay Gallants, for pleasure who proul!
Come all you young Racers, who strain for the goal!
Come all you stout Wrestlers, who strive on the plain!
Come all you fond Merchants, who trade on the main!
Come all, who expend your short candle, in quest
Of phantoms, still follow'd, but still unpossest!
In vain you search, wander, strain, struggle, and steer!
The Prize you all wrestled, and run for, lay here.

AIR XXII.

[_]

Tune, “Suba roo roo.”

Jack.
Who will buy? who will buy?
Observe, and you'll own, Sir,
In each radiant stone, Sir,
Is pictur'd the Virtue,
And Grace they refer to;
Will you buy Sir?—

AIR XXIII.

[_]

Tune, “Bohil beg buee.”

Jack.
Here Probity stands confest;
His truth on his visage exprest:
For his face is of kin to the beauty within,
That keeps festival still in his breast.

AIR XXIV.

[_]

Tune, “My Father and Mother sent me far.”

Jack
For lo! her wealth all spent on want,
Where Charity's reclin'd!
The moving tale of wretchedness
Still rolling in her mind.
Her sighs and tears are still a fund
Of bounty to distress;
And she delights to share the woe
She can no more redress.

AIR XXV.

[_]

Tune, “My Dog and my Gun.”

Jack.
On what a firm rock, here, does Fortitude fix!
Around him, in war, all the elements mix!
The hurricane rages! the tempest it boils!
Loud thunders are launch'd at his head—and he smiles!

Lady.
My honest Gentleman, so pert, and queer,
What must I give you for this trifle here?

Jack.
Your insolence of riches, that mislead
Your steps from real wealth, and make you poor, indeed.

AIR XXVI.

[_]

Tune, “Æneas wand'ring Prince of Troy.”

Jack.
Humility, her crown aside,
Here stoops to wash the feet of Pride.
Averse from all the world calls great,
She fain would fall, and sink from state!
But sink or fall, howe'er she will,
She finds the world beneath her still.

Lady.
Your pleasure for this Gem so bright and strange?
I barter all my fortune in exchange!

Jack.
Demand some other time.—You offer well.—
The price, in public, I'm right loth to tell.

AIR XXVII.

[_]

Tune, “Past one o'Clock.”

How mild, in this ruby, pale Chastity flushes;
And tinctures with crimson her form of light!
Unconscious of guilt;—at her beauty she blushes,
And wraps each proportion, and charm from sight.
All hush'd as rock'd infants, all sweet as the folding rose,
Her lips, with reluctance, the balm of her breath disclose!
Her eyes look abash'd at their brightness, yet still she shews
Brighter by veiling whate'er is bright!

AIR XXVIII.

[_]

Tune, “The bonny Christ Church Bells”

Jack.
Would you wear this Pearl so rare?
Then, Fair-one, list to me,
First learn the skill your tongue to still;
And leave the name and honest fame of others free.
Your tittle-tattle, prate and prattle,—rake and rattle, all
Due victims to this Pearl must fall.
Your joys in toys, of folly, fops, and noise,

That, noon and night, the toy-shop of your heart employs;
The side long glance, and kindling dance,
Minc'd mein, and conscious eye;
With foibles which, you know, in shame I spare to shew;
A price, I fear, too high.

AIR XXIX.

[_]

Tune, Bumpers Squire Jones.”

Jack.
Since, Sir, you require
Me with freedom to tell you the price I desire;
If duly obey'd,
I must claim all your shifts,
Mean resources, sly drifts,
And whole system of trade.
Each method of weaving
Court nets for enslaving;

Your chaffer for conscience, by barter and lure:
State quacks, and state nurses;
Your purging of purses;
And skinning of wounds, which you wish not to cure.

II

Each subtle essay
Of spreading corruption, in order for sway;
All projects for rule,
By the bait, and the bribe,
And political tribe,
Of trick, traffic, and tool.
Your Court-broom, that gathers
Motes, chaff, straw, and feathers,
And sweeps up all trash from the surface of life.
With your largess of graces,
Posts, pensions, and places,
Where talents and office are ever at strife.

III

With these, I must claim
Your entry of red-coated gentry, who dream
That Heroes are made,
And enabl'd to kill,
By the courage and skill
Of a dreadful cockade!
A race, who are prouder
To spend their sweet powder
At balls, than on bullets,—a terrible train

Of crimp petit-maitres,
Nice seamsters and plaiters,
Beau'd out, for the dance of a dainty campaign!

AIR XXX.

[_]

Tune, “Ye fairy Elves that be.”

Gallig.
Come follow, follow me,
You jolly boys all, who be
Divested of constraint,
From mortify'd Saw, or Saint!
To pleasure and boundless licence free.
Come follow, follow, follow me!
Come all to measureless licence free,
And follow, follow, follow me!

II

Let lean-ey'd Honesty bear
His merited weight of care;

And phlegm and conscience dwell
In cynical tub, or cell;
But all ye lovers of game, and glee,
And feast and frolic, come follow me!
To nature's measureless license free,
Come follow, follow, follow me!

III

The pedanted Priest, who fain
Wou'd ride, but wants a rein;
To moral us into controul,
Wou'd sour the jovial soul!
The Priest is cunning, and so are we;
Then Priest and People, come follow me!
From scruple and qualm, and conscience free,
Come follow, follow, me!

XXXI.

[_]

Tune, “Tiptelera.”

1st Shep.
These gauntlets, we understand,
From annals, time out of mind,
Have giv'n due weight to each hand
Of the bruisers of mankind.
Still apt to his occupation
Whom no restriction awes;
Whose courage would cuff a nation,
And quell both land and laws.

AIR XXXII.

[_]

Tune, “Ye Commons and Peers.”

1st Shep.
Behold, from old times,
Through all customs, and climes,
The meed of ambition, and pride!
'Tis a gift, my good sirs,
For him who, with spurs,
On the back of his country would ride.
Dol de rol, &c.

AIR XXXIII.

[_]

Tune, “Old Roger.”

1st Shep.
Sir, here is the zone,
Dol lol de rol, &c.

By whose virtue alone
Dol lol, &c.

Deservers are known,
Dol lol, &c.

To look down on a throne,
Dol lol, &c.

AIR XXXIV.

[_]

Tune, “Ye fairy Elves that be.”

Duet between Justice and Jack.

I

Arise, arise! arise!
Each shape, and sort, and size
Of Honesty, where ye lye,
Unheeded, on dank or dry;
From cottages, shades, and sheds, to court,
My brothers of worth, and want, resort!

Arise to labour, arise to play,
For Virtue dawns a new born day!

Chorus.
Arise to labour, &c.

II

To court, to court repair;
Tho' destitute, poor, and bare;
And yet unskill'd in aught
That Euclid or Machiavel taught.
By naked probity, you acquire
A garb beyond the silk of Tyre;
And more than talents, and more than art,
Is furnish'd in an upright heart!

Chorus.
And more than, &c.

III

Let jolity e'en devour
His interval of an hour;
Yet, pity his transient roar,
For list—and he laughs no more!
The purest pleasures that guilt can bring,
Are like the tickling of a sting;
The tickling leaves no sweet behind;
The sting remains, and stabs the mind!

Chorus.
The tickling leaves, &c.

IV

But Virtue, in the breast,
Composes her halcyon nest;
And sooths and smooths each storm,
That wou'd the fair seat deform;

Herself most frolic, and sweetly free
To cordial jolity, cordial glee!
The fountain of all that's blest and bright;
Of orient pleasure, of orient light!

Chorus.
The fountain, &c.

V

And, from this mental dawn,
O'er village, and lake, and lawn;
New radiance shall expand,
To brighten each dusky land;
While Truth, from this approving stage,
Shall beam through every act, and age!

CHORUS.
While Truth from this approving stage,
Shall beam through ev'ry act, and age.

FINIS.

343

RUTH: AN ORATORIO.

344

PERSONS.

BOAZ.
HIGH PRIEST.
NAOMI.
RUTH.
ISRAELITES.
MOABITES.

345

I. PART I.

SCENE I.

A Field in Moab.
Israelite Travellers, and Naomi.

RECITATIVE.

1st Isr.
Stay, brother—see, in yonder shade,
Some sable Daughter of Affliction laid!
She rises—mark her mournful air!
She looks, she moves, she breathes despair!
Too great appears her woe,
To suffer words to break away, or swelling tears to flow.

RECITATIVE Accompanied.

2d Isr.
'Tis nought to us—Come, let's be gone—
This land for us no friendship knows:
All are strangers here, and foes!—
Shall we regard a foe's distress?—no, brother, no!—pass on.

346

AIR.

1st Isr.
Thro' every clime, the heart humane
Is pleased to share in every pain—
There dwells a secret sense within,
To frail mortality a-kin;
And to the Child of humbling Grief,
Or friend, or foe, it brings relief!

CHORUS.
Or friend, or foe, the Child of Grief
From hearts humane will find relief!

RECITATIVE.

1st Isr.
Unhappy sister! whence the care,
That seems above thy strength to bear?

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
'Tis an incurable despair!—

RECITATIVE.

1st Isr.
Yet if our power cannot relieve, our pity sure may share.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Lopt from the trunk of Israel's tree,
And stript of foliage and of fruit, a blasted branch you see!

347

RECITATIVE.

2d Isr.
Of Israel?—O, declare thy grief!—
I hasten, now, to bring relief.

AIR.

Nao.
Ah cease—your comforts come in vain!
As on a barren rock they fall;
Whence soft descending stores of rain,
No blade of kindly growth can call.

AIR.

1st Isr.
From desolated lands,
From rugged rocks, and parching sands,
The powerful word of Israel's King
Can call the beauties of the spring!—

RECITATIVE.

His hand the wounded heart can heal—
But O, whence springs thy grief, reveal!

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Once I was blest, supremely blest!
These arms a loved and loving consort prest—
Two sons, beside, were mine—all now, alas, no more!
Husband and children lost I'm destined to deplore!

RECITATIVE.

1st Isr.
Alas, sad matron!—May we claim
Thy tribe, thy native place, and name?

348

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Of Judah's tribe, in Bethlehem's town,
Naomi once was known.
But late, when famine ravaged all our plains,
I, with my houshold, succour sought from Moab's foreign swains.

RECITATIVE.

2d Isr.
Our sister!—

1st Isr.
—O, our sister dear!

2d Isr.
Return!—

1st Isr.
Thy kin, thy country, chear!

RECITATIVE.

2d Isr.
The LORD hath visited our land,
And on his chosen people pour'd the bounty of his hand!

AIR, Duet.

Rich verdure and blossoms again deck the spring,
Again in the groves the wing'd choristers sing;
Again the blithe milkmaid is heard at her pail,
And the ploughman's glad whistle descends on the vale.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Though fall my ills so heavy from his hand,
I bless the LORD who saves my native land.
Yes, happy soil! ye hills and vales of Grace!
Thou sacred, pleasing, promised place!

349

With thee, once more, these eyes shall glad their sight,
Then closing bid a last adieu to mortal life and light!

AIR.

Dear Natal Earth, prepare my grave,
Receive the fading form you gave!
Dear Natal Earth, upon your breast,
The fading form you gave, shall rest!

RECITATIVE.

2d Isr.
Cease, cease, O hapless sister! cease to mourn—
Thy joyful friends shall hail thy wish'd return;
Bethlehem exulting thy approach shall greet,
And her throng'd ways spread flow'rs beneath thy feet.

AIR.

Let no wretched offspring of Adam despair—
As passes our pleasure, so passes our care!
Man's life is an April, now gloomy, now gay;
His shade and his shine fleet successive away!
To the pain thy Creator appoints thee resign,
And seize the glad moment allowed to be thine.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
My friends, my country, now, Naomi scarce will own—
To haughty Wealth in prosperous state, the Poor remain unknown!

350

RECITATIVE.

1st Isr.
As o'er a treasure lost and found,
O'er thee thy kindred will rejoice around.

AIR.

O Israel, receive to thy breast,
This thy daughter, so virtuous and dear!
In thy songs be her welcome exprest,
And her diffidence lost in thy chear!
As her morning in clouds has begun,
Let her noon in its progress be bright;
And her evening, like summer's fair sun,
Leave behind it a glory of light!

END OF THE FIRST PART.

351

PART II.

SCENE I.

Naomi, Ruth, and Moabites.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Daughters of Moab, hear! By famine's hand
Opprest, erewhile I left my native land—
To you I came; ye took the stranger in,
And fill'd the place of country and of kin.
Now home recall'd, for leave to part I sue,
And my full heart must take the last adieu!

RECITATIVE.

Moab.
Wouldst thou their blessing from thy servants take?
Your LORD loves Moab for Naomi's sake.

AIR.

Where'er thy visit is addrest,
The household and the house are blest!

352

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Though you, my friends, I quit, my broken heart
Leaves in your hospitable earth its better, dearer part!

AIR.

A long, long adieu, my kind neighbours, I take,
Ye wealth of the wealthless, ye strength of the weak!
While worth shall endear, or beneficence bind,
Your memory shall hold the first place in my mind:
And if ever your lot should oblige you to stray,
May others the friendship you shew'd me repay!

RECITATIVE.

Ruth.
Come, mother, come! no more indulge delay!
Towards your Israel's pleasant land I long to bend my way.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
What means my daughter? would she leave
Her friends of Moab for her loss to grieve?

AIR.

Ruth.
Yes, mother, yes; with thee,
Though faint from travel and from toil,
Each land will prove a native soil,
Each house a home to me!

353

Companion'd with thee, as we journey along,
No time can be tedious, no road can be wrong!

RECITATIVE.

By wedlock, Ruth, allied to thee,
Became a graft of Israel's tree—
So firmly fix'd, so strongly tied,
No storm can shake, no stroke divide!

AIR.

Nao.
O flower of Moab, passing fair!
Say, shall my unpropitious hand
Thee, from thy native garden, bear,
To wither in a foreign land?

RECITATIVE.

Ruth.
Some power, unconquerably strong,
Impells thy daughter's steps along.

AIR.

As the LORD of thy Israel now reigneth above,
In his Kingdom of Peace, and his Regions of Love,
'Tis in vain
To restrain;
With thee I will wander, with thee will remain.
To the lot that is thine,
Or pleasant, or painful, with joy I resign;
Thy people, thy God, and thy grave, shall be mine!

354

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
O child, above all kindred dear,
Thou bless'd of our JEHOVAH, hear!

AIR.

I see, I see with other eyes,
From darkness distant radiance rise!
Soon shall the Promised Son be born,
And come on Solyma like morn,
Enlightening all her skies!

CHORUS of Moabites.
Amid the great the glorious thought,
Our souls to future times are caught.
We see, with other eyes,
From darkness distant radiance rise!
Soon shall the Promised Son be born,
And come on Moab like the morn,
Enlightening all her skies!

END OF THE SECOND PART.

355

III. PART III.

SCENE I.

Naomi, and Ruth.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Turn, O daughter, turn thy eyes,
Where Bethlehem's glittering spires arise—
How fair her flowery vales extend!
How bold her swelling hills ascend!

AIR.

Dear native Soil! do I again
Thy kindly breeze inhale?
No air of any foreign plain
Could thus my sense regale.

RECITATIVE.

Ruth.
Fair is thy land, O mother! wondrous fair!
My bosom from the view strange transport seems to share.

356

AIR.

New scenes, and new prospects, my spirit employ,
And with hopes of new happiness chear me;
My heart all enliven'd indulges its joy,
And some sudden blessing seems near me.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Behold, my lovely child, behold,
How Bethlehem's streets at our approach pour forth their young and old!

SCENE II.

Naomi, Ruth, Boaz, Israelites.
CHORUS.
Naomi?—lost and found again,
O welcome to thy native plain!
Raise all your voices, brethren, raise,
And hail your sister's glad return with gratulating lays.

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Say, brethren, who is he that leads the throng,
And like a hero moves majestical along?

RECITATIVE.

1st Isr.
'Tis Boaz, Bethlehem's Prince, your near allied—
Your first of kindred by your husband's side!

AIR, Duet.

Isr.
His step is at a distance from thousands discern'd!
When he speaks in the gate, Elders hear and grow learn'd!
His couches are spread for the stranger's repose;
For the naked he shears, for the hungry he sows!
He stands like a tree in the midst of his ground,
With the widow and orphan rejoicing around!

RECITATIVE.

Boaz.
Hail, mother of thy people!—this embrace
Bids thee thrice welcome to thy native place.
Oft have those arms my infant years carest,
And clasp'd thy little kinsman to thy breast!

RECITATIVE.

Nao.
Hail, son!—May Heaven in bounty heap on thee
Tenfold the blessings it has rent from me!

RECITATIVE.

Boaz.
In this our present happy lot,
Be past calamities forgot!
But where is she, our new allied—
Of Moab's land so late the pride?

358

AIR.

Nao.
Lo there! like a mist on the morning, her veil
Strives in vain to obscure her from sight;
It betrays what it means to conceal,
A beauty for vision too bright!

RECITATIVE.

Boaz.
Thee, fairest Ruth, by Israel's law I claim,
A glad succeeder to thy husband's name!
Thrice have the visions of the night,
Brought to my view thy semblance fair, that fill'd my tent with light!

RECITATIVE.

Ruth.
If so your laws ordain,
Your handmaid will not of her lot complain.

RECITATIVE.

H. Priest.
Hear men of Bethlehem, and rejoice!
The LORD informs his servant's voice—
Yon portion fair of Moab's earth,
To Israel's Chosen Plant gives birth!
Hence the Mighty Tree shall spring,
The Glory of the grove, of every tree the King!

CHORUS of Priests.
To the center, shall reach the vast Depth of his Root!
To the stars, the vast Height of his Summit shall shoot!

359

Thro' the world, the vast Length of his Boughs shall extend!
For their food, on His Fruit, shall all nations depend!

GRAND CHORUS
Hail Mother of Approaching Grace!
Hail Parent of the Promised Race!
Far distant I see Him!—The young and the old
Rush to meet the MESSIAH, by prophets foretold!
The Lame, with a bound,
Lightly leap from the ground;
The Deaf run to hear, and the Blind to behold—
And the Dead rise triumphant around!

363

PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF ESSEX,

A TRAGEDY.

This night, to your free censure, are exposed
Scenes, now, almost two hundred winters, closed:
Scenes, yet, that ought to be for ever near,
To Freedom sacred, and to Virtue dear!

Deep is the spring, whose stream this night we draw;
Its source is Truth—'tis Liberty made Law:
A draught divine to ev'ry generous breast;
The cordial of the Wretched—of the Blest!
The juice, by which the strength of souls is fed;
Without whose aliment, who lives—is dead.

If aught is honest, noble, kind, or great,
Which yet may give some British hearts to beat;
If aught has been by mighty fathers won,
Which yet descends to animate a son;
However weak the warmth, or dim the beam,
We shew from whence the distant glory came;
And lead you backward, by the kindred ray,
To the full blaze of Britain's brightest day—

364

Elizabeth!—a light till then unknown,
The virgin sun, of Truth's meridian, shone,
And in the Subject's Freedom fix'd a Living Throne.

Is there, to whom one Privilege is sure,
Who holds fair Property, as yet, secure?—
Is there, to whom Religion stands endear'd,
So hardly rescued, so divinely clear'd?—
Is there, who claims, who feels, who prizes aught,
For which the Hero bled, the Patriot wrought?—
Elizabeth, as one inspiring soul,
Reform'd, connected, and affirm'd the whole;
And sent the blessings down, thro' ev'ry reign,
For you to clasp, to cherish, and retain!

Like Cynthia, peerless queen, supremely crown'd,
Her guardian constellations blazed around—
Selected chiefs, for council, as for fight;
Her men of wisdom, and her men of might;
Whose acts, illustrating our annals, stand
The grace, the good, the glory of the land!
For then no Courtly Faction stood confest—
Who serv'd his Country, serv'd his Queen the best!

If yet, among those godlike men of old,
Some taint of earth lay mingled with the mould;
On human frailty if misfortune grew,
And sufferings, such as all who read must rue—
Thro' time descending let the sorrow flow,
And you who share the virtue, share the woe!

365

PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND,

A TRAGEDY.

Charm'd to this spot, concurring to this night,
Wide nations close, and centuries unite.
Scenes long erased, past ages rise to view,
Realms change their place, and Time returns—for you!

The merchant venturous in his search of gain,
Who ploughs the winter of the boist'rous main,
From various climes collects a various store,
And lands the treasure on his native shore.
Our merchant yet imports no golden prize,
What wretches covet, and what you despise!
A different store his richer freight imparts—
The gem of virtue, and the gold of hearts;
The social sense, the feelings of mankind,
And the large treasure of a godlike mind!

When Westmorland, unhappy, brave, and great,
Appears conflicting with the pow'rs of fate,

366

Guilty yet good, deserving yet forlorn,
And by the strife of warring passions torn—
Altho' our author brings the distant woe,
From eyes that wept a thousand years ago,
He claims your kindred tears for the distrest,
Nor thinks one virtue foreign to your breast!

But when the bright Rowena shall appear,
First of her sex—except her rivals here—
No more let Man assert his lordly claim,
No more presume to step the first for fame;
But to the Fair their native rights allow,
Look round, and with becoming homage bow!

367

ANOTHER PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND.

There was a time, these polish'd times preceding,
Ere our good sires of Britain—knew Fine Breeding;
Ere Honesty was elbow'd from the nation,
Or Life's Learn'd Lie entitled “Education.”

Bold Nature, then, disdain'd the mask of Art;
Man, on his open aspect, wore his heart.
Passion, then, knew, nor cover, nor controul;
Each action spoke the dictate of the soul:
Worth claim'd its triumphs, Guilt confest its stings,
And Truth was known at Courts—and told to Kings!

Such were your sires, humanely, nobly rude;
And such the good old times, for you renew'd!

From the still regions of enduring night,
Our author calls the dead to life and light.
He bids your hearts to heave, your eyes to flow,
O'er griefs that past nine hundred years ago:
Bids Truth in Person tread Hibernia's stage,
And Action preach her sermon to the age;
The sermon to which Nature sets her seal—
For none can doubt the doctrine that they feel.

368

Sweet as a field that vernal breezes fan,
Sweet are emotions in the heart of man;
Sweet are the tears of worth, the ties of kin,
And all the home-bred charities within!

When human feelings the warm breast inspire,
When pity softens, and when passions fire;
Then glows the Mint of Nature, apt, refined,
And Virtue strikes her image on the mind.

If the distinguish'd hero of this night,
Is urged to leap the sacred mound of right;
If wildly tost on passion's stormy wave,
He wrecks the country he was born to save;
Know it is man's to err—and let that move,
To pity frailties that you can't approve.

But when you see Rowena greatly soar,
A height that Virtue never dared before;
A summit, to aspiring man unknown,
And first, and last, atchiev'd by Her alone;
Then turn, and in her sex the Saint revere—
Then bend, with reverence, to the Chaste and Fair!

375

EPILOGUE TO THE PLAY OF WHAT WE MUST ALL COME TO.

What all must come to!—what?—debate and strife!
Must all wed plague and broils—who wed a wife?
If that's the sage conclusion of our poet,
The man's a fool—you happy Husbands know it!

Your Dames are form'd upon a gentler plan—
To sooth and smooth the rough hewn mass of man;
To bid the tumult of your souls to cease,
And smile your warring passions into peace.

Like Rome's famed matrons, scorning all excess
In masque or mummery, in dance or dress,
Your Wives are busied in the nobler cares
Of planting their own virtues in your heirs,
And scarce depart their house—except to prayers!

They neither take nor give the world a handle
For tittle-tattle, gossipping, or scandal;
And, as for that strange vice of gaming—lard!
I dare be sworn, they scarce can tell a card.

In times of yore, indeed, when 'twas the fashion,
And drums, routs, rackets, cards, the favourite passion;
With ev'ry Husband, gambling was the flame,
And even their precious Spouses—play'd the game.

376

Plumb, in the reigning vice, your Statesmen jump;
And Factions, in rotation, turn'd up trump:
Honours, on all hands, they agree to wave;
Some play'd the fool, who meant to play the Knave.
The Vizier, vers'd in all the gambling trade,
The Court against his simpler Country play'd;
But, dubious of the pow'rs that might withstand,
He wisely kept the impending King in hand—
The People thought the advantage somewhat hard;
But deem'd their Magna Charta a sure card!

Now, heats, and betts, all terms of truce confound;
Craft, perjury, prostitution, wait around;
While, high o'er head, Astrea's beam, behold,
Weighing light conscience against pond'rous gold.
But how the game did end, or may end—why—
Time, if it chuse, may tell—in sooth, not I.

Ye Fair, intended, by the powers above,
With silken chains, to bind the world in Love;
On whose soft sway, to earth's extremest end,
The race, the brotherhood of man depend!
O, never, never answer rage with rage,
But shun the tempest which you can't assuage;
Your Tyrants, then, shall spend their wrath in vain,
Return, quite tame, and reassume their chain;
So shall Submission win despotic sway,
And the World's Lord shall willingly obey!

379

TO THE MEMORY OF Lieutenant Colonel HENRY CLEMENTS.

Shall boastful pomp, the high imperial name,
Or title, only, swell the trump of Fame?
To equal Worth be equal Glory due,
And wreaths that bloom'd for Clayton bloom for you!

O, once endowed with ev'ry pleasing pow'r,
To chear the sad, or charm the social hour;
To sweeten life with many a gentle art,
And win the whole dominion of the heart;
I deem'd, far other than the fates allow,
The laurels bound upon your living brow,
To greet my friend returning from his toil,
Graced with his deeds, and laden with his spoil.
Too fond of what the martial harvests yield,
Alas, too forward to the dangerous field,
As one of old renown in battle tried,
The glory of the dusty plain you died!
The tongues of Dettingen your triumph tell,
And weeping Tournay points where Clements fell.

O, in some future day of loud alarms,
When Virtue and my Country call to arms

380

For Freedom—struggling nations to unbind,
And snap the sceptres that would bruise mankind—
At such an hour, in such a cause as thine,
The honour'd close of such a death be mine!
Then may some kindred Bard appoint my grave,
Snatch forth my name and roll it with the brave;
Assign my pen and sword the wish'd applause,
And say that both were drawn in Virtue's cause!
Then drop the salutation given to you—
“Companion, Countryman, and Friend—adieu!”

381

A CHARACTER.

When, o'er the canvas, flows the master's line,
He adds no name to mark the just design;
The portrait, 'midst a mingling world, is known,
And stands admired, distinguish'd, and alone!

Behold him, full of virtues as of days,
Laden with worth, infirmities, and praise!
Down the hoar flowings of his silver'd head,
Wisdom and Time their equal honours shed;
Truth and Benevolence, with equal grace,
Rise from his breast, and lighten in his face.

His languid limbs expect the peaceful bier;
His head and heart still active, free, and clear!
On his own frame, though dire distemper preys,
He's borne around, to give all others ease;
Before his healing presence Life respires,
And Sickness, with his rueful train, retires!

382

Great Leach both of our persons and our state!
When thou, at some sad hour, shalt yield to fate—
O then, adieu Hibernia's chiefest wealth;
Adieu to Liberty! adieu to Health!

383

TO Mr. B---

ON Advertising his “Treatise on the Interests of Ireland.”

I

Say, B---, what dæmon has possess'd
A brain, that better should discern,
Than thus to chuse a theme, confess'd
No creature's study, or concern?

II

Hadst thou but writ of Mat the Miller,
Or frolicks of the Fairy-tribe,
Or, even, of John the Giant Killer;
There's not a soul but would subscribe.

III

But, here, though from a Seraph's wing
Thy manna-dropping quill were shed;
Morpheus his leaden mace shall bring,
Or ere the second page be read.

384

THE PATRIOTISM OF IRELAND,

AN HISTORICAL BALLAD.

[_]

To the Tune of “Ye Commons and Peers.’

I

In the year, do you see,
Of fifty and three,
A year of facetious renown;
A conjurer came,
Old R---r by name,
For the pastime of country and town!

II

At once to surprize
And cozen our eyes,
He shew'd us of Courtiers ten brace;
All Courtiers, as true
To the Minister's Cue,
As ever took Pension or Place!

385

III

But R---r, anon,
Cries, “Pass and be gone!”
The coast it is instantly clear;
And straight, in the place
Of Prostitutes base,
Ten Brace of good Patriots appear!

IV

The rabble and rout
Clap, caper, and shout;
The multitude see and believe:
They hail, with acclaim,
Each Patriot Name!
But the Knowing-ones laugh in their sleeve.

V

For R---r, once more
Our wits to restore,
Repeats his charm backwards—and then,
On this Patriot-Host,
He throws Powder of Post,
And he shews them all Rascals again!

386

THE QUESTION.

INSCRIBED TO LADY CAROLINE RUSSELL.

I

From our frail sire, who first knew sin,
Thro' every stage of age and youth,
The World's Grand Question still hath been,
“Whence is Beauty, what is Truth?”

II

This to resolve, or to inquire,
Employed The Learn'd of every age;
Alike perplex'd the Son and Sire,
The Dull, the Subtle, and the Sage.

III

At length, impatient of delay,
The World agreed no more to wait;
But cast disputed Truth away,
As well from Practice, as Debate.

387

IV

Then Beauty, on unrivall'd ground,
Sole cause of contest, stood alone;
And every Knight hath form'd, or found,
A favourite Princess of his own.

V

To Magic Numbers, one confines
The Castle, where The Charmer dwells;
And one, to Corresponding Lines
Of Angles, Cubes, and Parallels.

VI

By sounds of soft attraction led,
Her Power the Man of Music feels:
The Scholar dreams She's in his Head;
The Dancer swears She's in his Heels.

VII

In Pleasure some, and some in State,
Their cloud-composed Enchantress spy;
And, from Ambition's towery height,
She catches many a wishful eye.

388

VIII

In Symmetry, Discerners view
A Glance of Beauty's Real Queen;
And nearer, by a Chosen Few,
The Sentimental Fair is seen.

IX

But each, like Knights of old emprize,
(Whate'er his present flame) requires,
That All should find conforming eyes,
And join to bow—where he admires.

X

To fix this Fire of wandering Love,
Supernal Power resolv'd to shew,
That what was Truth in Heaven above,
Alone made Beauty here below.

XI

For this, He purposed to condense
What Angels felt of Good or Bright,
With Sentiment to strike the Sense,
And give the Charm of Soul to Sight.

389

XII

At length The Plastic Power descends
With Heaven's Select Ingredients fraught:
To earth his beamy flight He bends,
And into Substance features Thought.

XIII

From Zembla's frozen clime, He chose
A quantity of Virgin-air,
For Lucid Organs, to compose
The Moving Fabric of his Fair.

XIV

With this He blends the Portion due,
Nine Solar Rays of Morning Light,
To give a Blush of chastest hue,
As deep and warm, as pure and bright.

XV

From Hybla's sweets, that breathe in fame,
He press'd the Prime of Bloom and Bud;
And, through the soft transparent frame,
He pour'd The Aromatic Flood.

390

XVI

Sphered in the Center, as a Sun,
Within He hung The Cordial Freight,
Which from Eternal Truth He won,
And bid The embosom'd Heaven to beat.

XVII

From Number, Music, Sisters twin,
He caught the Magic of the Face;
And, from the Sentiment within,
He pictured Motion, Mien, and Grace.

XVIII

Thus folding, in One Radiant Frame,
Each Beauty Humanely-Divine,
He gave His System up to Fame,
And Mortals call her—CAROLINE!

417

THE FOX-CHASE.

Young Marcus with the lark salutes the morn—
“Saddle your horses; huntsman, wind your horn.”
We start, we rise at the enlivening sound—
The woods all ring—and wind the horn around:
We snatch a short repast within the hall;
“To horse! To horse!”—We issue at the call.

As when, to rid his country from alarms
Of Russian inroads, and of Gallic arms,
Great Prussia bids the patriot trump to blow,
The free-born gather, and around him glow:
So, at the call of Marcus—grateful sound—
Men, steeds, and dogs, tumultuous pour around.

The youth upon their coursers vault with grace;
The coursers neigh, impatient for the chase:
Their short and eager steps the bit restrains;
They paw and pant, reluctant to the reins.

418

Unfolding gates a spacious passage yield—
Forward we move, and issue to the field.

Far within cover thoughtless Reynard lay,
And slept the riots of the night away.
Late, from the ravage of a neighbouring farm,
He had withdrawn, impenitent of harm;
The tainted gales his felon steps pursue,
And tell his travels to the conscious dew.
But he, whom many a 'scape had render'd sure,
For slights and wiles unrivall'd, slept secure,
In unsuspecting spirits blithe and bland,
Nor dreams the dreadful reck'ning is at hand.

Trueman, whom for sagacious nose we hail
The Chief, first touch'd the scarce-distinguish'd gale;
His tongue was doubtful, and no hound replies:
“Haux!—Wind him!—Haux!”—the tuneful huntsman cries.
At once the list'ning pack asunder spread,
With tail erect, and with inquiring head:
With busy nostrils they foretaste their prey,
And snuff the lawn-impearling dews away.

Now here, now there, they chop upon the scent,
Their tongues in undulating æther spent:
More joyous now, and louder by degrees,
Warm, and more warm, they catch the coming breeze.

419

Now with full symphony they jointly hail
The welcome tidings of a surer gale;
Along the vale they pour the swelling note;
Their ears and dewlaps on the morning float.

How vainly Art aspires, by rival sounds,
To match the native melody of Hounds!
Not eunuchs warbling in the vocal choir,
Tho' join'd by pipe and string, such bliss inspire,
When with joint sense they quaff the tainted gale,
And in full concert ring their morning peal:
The list'ning planets from their orbits bend,
And the still elements with joy attend.

Again the doubtful scent our hope defeats:
“To cover—hark!”—the huntsman's voice repeats.
Wide on the left a neighbouring copse was spread,
And thither the obsequious pack he led.
But more aloof the parting sportsmen scout,
Watch every path, and skirt the wood about.
The huntsman now, with expectation flush,
“Haux, Fox!” he cries, and strikes the hopeful bush:
To cover strait the spreading hounds now take,
Snuff every tuft, and spy in every brake.
Again the breeze betrays the tainted ground,
And Lovely tells the gladsome tidings round;
“Hark!—Lovely!—hark!”—deep echoing glens resound.

420

Ah, hapless foxes! ever blind to fate!
Without a cause dejected and elate.
Darkling ye walk, unconscious of your end,
Nor mark the gathering mischiefs that impend!
The shrewd and simple share an equal lot—
In death the wizard finds himself a sot.

That luckless morn, when first along the glade
The tell-tale dews his nightly steps betray'd,
Wrap'd in soft slumbers Reynard press'd his bed,
And there on visionary poultry fed.
He dream'd, as by a neighbouring grange he crept,
Couch'd while he mov'd, and linger'd as he stept,
Two virgin pullets fix'd his side regard,
Plump from the sounding barn and pamp'ring yard:
Near, and more near, he steals with winking eyes,
Then springs at once, and seizes on his prize.
Loud piercing screams th' affrighted welkin fill,
And down his jaws the luscious streams distil.

Ev'n in this rapturous moment, while his taste
Gorg'd the full riot of a fancied feast,
Lovely's near note, far echoing, pierc'd his ears—
He wakes, and inward shrinks to shun his fears.
Upward he starts—erects his ears—and then
Hears the loud “Hark!”—and down he sinks again.

421

Trembling he strives to re-assure his heart
With a fresh promise of long prospering art;
Then with sly caution, crouching as he rose,
From his warm kennel's ancient seat he goes;
The seat to which he shall return no more,
Now with chill moss and dropping branches hoar.

Thro' frizzled thickets, and thro' yielding sprays,
He thwarts each path, and treads a puzzling maze.
So steer'd, some devious vessel shifts her sail,
And, veering, gains upon the adverse gale.

Now, from the mansion of his late repose
Rank steams and reeking exhalations rose;
The tepid vapours are diffus'd around,
And reach the nerves of each inquiring hound:
With answering notes, their heads tow'rds Heav'n they cast,
And in full concert hail the rich repast.

The sculking caitiff, who beneath the spread
Of fav'ring umbrage veil'd his luckless head,
Close at his ear believes the distant peals,
And a whole host of dæmons at his heels.
His instant terrors cast all wiles away,
He breaks from cover, and demands the day:

422

O'er the fair field he flies his num'rous foes,
And down the wind, as swift as wind he goes.

A watchful scout his bold elopement spies—
“Ho!—tally-ho!”—triumphantly he cries.
His rash alarm the gen'rous Marcus blames—
“Law!—give him law!”—as loudly he exclaims.
The distant sportsmen gather at the shout,
As bees they buzz and 'close their chief about;
The fervid youth attending crowd the plain,
And bind the crested coursers to the rein.

The choiring hounds, with deep harmonious throats,
Fill the charm'd wood, and swell the doubling notes;
Sweeter than those of that enchanting strain
That still'd the surge on the Trinacrian main,
When to the mast, the Grecian, wisely bound,
Scarce dar'd the tempting magic of the sound.

The dogs a travers'd labyrinth unwind,
Subtler than that which Dædalus design'd.
By slow degrees the doubling wile is won,
Trac'd through the shade, and push'd into the sun;
There the broad airs a livelier scent assume,
And greet their senses with a full perfume.

423

Then, as a shaft from the withholding thong,
They shoot away, and pour the plains along.

No more the youth their eager steeds restrain;
Ardent they start, and loose the granted rein:
The steeds spring forth, and from the rein unbound,
Devour the lessening distance of the ground;
They stretch and strain each nerve and active limb,
Sweep down the slopes, and o'er the levels skim.
Their force a generous emulation fires;
Beneath our speed the fleeting earth retires.
In a glad frenzy we attempt the sky;
Nor seem to run, or ride, but mount and fly!

Now lightly o'er opposing walls we bound,
Clear the broad trench and top the rising mound:
No stop, no time for respite or recess;
On, and still on, fox, dogs, and horses press.

The hounds outbreath'd from their late tuneful throat,
Now break—half short—the disappointed note.
Now o'er the smoaking vale each gen'rous steed
Relaxes from the fervour of his speed:
Push'd up the bray, indignantly they feel
The clanking lash and the retorted steel;

424

Then down the steep with quick'ning rapture go,
And stretch and sweat upon the plain below.

Athwart one way a tumbling stream was laid
That to the lake its daily tribute paid:
Here the first stop our rapid course delays,
And with a grateful interruption stays.
Upon the bank, in watchful silence still,
We breathe the rising freshness of the rill;
We pant—we drop our languid limbs—and all,
Like fainting Cephalus, on Aura call.
Dark as a mist that to the distant view
Caps the brown mountains with a murky blue;
So from our steeds the thick'ning vapours rise,
Enfold their riders and obscure the skies.
The glowing dogs, forgetful of their foe,
Full on the stream their headlong bodies throw,
Like iron on the whizzing smithy flung,
And lap, and pant, and loll the length'ning tongue.

Now, from the west, a livelier gale upsprings,
And with new nerves each listless member strings.
In terms still varying their harmonious sounds,
The huntsman calls, and chears his circling hounds.

425

Now up, now down, now 'cross the stream he beats—
“Haux!—wind him!—haux!—Fox, find him!” he repeats.
Now round and round a fruitless search he plies,
And now a tour of wider circuit tries.
But no intelligence rewards his care;
No note confess'd the fox was ever there—
As though some opening gulph had gorg'd our prey,
Or sudden power had snatch'd him quite away.

But Reynard, hotly push'd, and close pursu'd,
Yet fruitful in expedients to elude,
When to the bourn's refreshing bank he came,
Had plung'd, all reeking, in the friendly stream.
The folding waves his failing pow'rs restore,
And close the gates of every fuming pore.
Then down the channel, over flats and steeps,
He steals, and trots—or wades, or swims, or creeps;
Till, where the pebbled shores the surges break,
He quits his feet, and launches on the lake.

As when some coasting skiff, with shatter'd geers,
A cautious course 'twixt land and ocean steers,

426

Fearful alike on either dang'rous hand
To trust the boist'rous sea or faithless land:
Possess'd of equal fears and equal lore,
So Reynard coasts aloof, and shuns the shore,
Lest the uncover'd odour should exhale,
And tell sure tidings to the trait'rous gale.

Not distant far, upon the beach there stood
The hoary growth of a majestic wood,
Whose age of oak and intervening yew
Not the great-grandsires of the living knew:
The flooring, deep beneath the distant shade,
With thorn and frizzling brush was thick inlaid,
While clamouring rooks, scarce heard above our head,
Amid the cloud-commingling branches bred.

Here Reynard lands, all dripping from the lake,
And seeks the shelter of his wonted brake.
Arriv'd, he shakes, and rolls, and turns him round;
Then entering, sinks o'ertoil'd upon the ground:
Stretch'd at full length, secure of care he lies,
And instant slumbers seal his willing eyes.

The chop-fall'n hounds meantime are heard no more,
But silent range along the winding shore.

427

Hopeless alike the hunters lag behind,
And give all thoughts of Reynard to the wind—
All, save one wily rival of his art,
Who vows unpitying vengeance e'er they part.
Along the coast his watchful course he bent,
Careful to catch and wind the thwarting scent;
And last, to make his boastful promise good,
Enter'd the precincts of the fatal wood.

There, thro' the gloom, he leads one hopeless train,
And cheers the long desponding pack in vain;
Till Ringwood first the faint effluvia caught,
And with loud tongue reform'd their old default.

Rous'd at the swell of that reviving sound,
Our hopes rekindle, and our hearts rebound!
Eager we spread thro' furze and mingling brush,
And lash the woof of each afflicted bush;
While here and there the busy dogs reveal
The languid tidings of the dubious gale.

Meanwhile the fox, unconscious of the chase,
Repair'd his late fatigues, and slept in peace;
Nor mark'd the cry of many a hostile tongue
That through the copious forest loudly rung,
Till a bold youth approach'd his thoughtless bed,
And struck the bower that trembl'd o'er his head.

428

As when amaz'd upstarted Manoah's heir,
Shorn of his strength and his enchanted hair,
While his peal'd ears receiv'd the hostile sound
Of shouting foes that girt his couch around;
So Reynard wakes with sudden horrors chill,
Scant of his force, and shorten'd of his skill.
Bold thro' despair, he breaks at once away,
Bounds thro' the brush, and rushes into day!
The fields, the shores, the hills, each wood resounds
With echoing hunters, and with op'ning hounds:
Rocks, waters, undulating air, and sky,
Become one peal, and propagate the cry.
From the firm land, and from the trembling lake,
Full on our ears the tuneful thunders break,
Roll o'er the waves, and strike the distant coast,
And far beyond, 'mid heav'n-top'd hills, are lost.

Again we start, we bound, we stretch amain,
O'er the brown heath and o'er the bright champaign:
Again o'er gates we fly, thro' hedges rush,
Thro' moorlands labour, and thro' thickets push.
Intense again our gath'ring fervour grows—
Again the coursers smoak—the rider glows:
Distinguish'd steeds their fellow steeds outwind,
And leave their late associates far behind;

429

While laggard hounds, that form a lengthen'd train,
Run, hoarse, and mute, and panting, o'er the plain.

O'erbreath'd we come where, 'twixt impending hills,
Ran the joint current of two gurgling rills;
On either hand, adown each fearful steep,
Hung forth the shaggy horrors, dark and deep:
Here, thro' brown umbrage, glow'd the vivid green,
And headlong slopes, and winding paths between;
Growth above many a growth, tall trees arose,
The tops of these scarce veil'd the roots of those;
A winding court where wandering fancy walk'd
And to herself responsive Echo talk'd.

Here, stay'd again, we hail the kind delay,
And down the shadowy paths delighted stray;
The gathering pack unite, and enter in,
Then spread, and pierce the darkness of the glen.
Now here, now there, now sole, and now combin'd,
They catch the wand'ring odour from the wind;
Thro' many a traverse many-twirling maze,
And all the wond'rous wisdom of his ways,
The Fox they trace, unrav'ling as they go,
Discreetly sure, and musically slow;

430

Now in joint harmony they pour their notes,
And Echo answers from ten thousand throats.
From hill to hill, with replicated sounds,
The peal rolls down the glen, and still rebounds,
Packs beyond packs seem sweetly to reply,
And waft to distant climes the lessening cry.

At length, from path to path, and glade to glade,
'Midst woven thickets and impending shade,
Thro' the steep wilderness their way they won,
And reach'd the shelve that open'd to the sun:
Then up the slope they speed them, swift as wind,
As swift the hunters press, and shout behind.

But now no more our coursers pull the rein
O'er the firm greensward, or expanded plain,
Thro' rude and craggy grounds, thro' miry clay,
We urge with peril our o'erlabour'd way.
Cast, here and there, along the dangerous course,
Lies spread the rider, and the floundering horse;
But onward still the foremost press, nor mind
To ask for luckless friends that limp behind.
At last the bottom of a mount we reach'd,
Whose top from sea to sea its prospect stretch'd,
And seem'd a look of stately scorn to throw
On the proud works of little men below.

With half a pack, and scarcely half a train,
We dare all dangers, and all toil disdain;

431

The dogs near faint, yet still on slaughter bent,
With tongues abrupt avow the burning scent;
The pendant cliffs audaciously essay,
And trot, or crawl, or climb their desperate way.
While, slanting, we avoid the headlong deep,
Yet bend, press on, and labour up the steep.

Where the brow beetling from the mountain sprung
With stunted thorn and shaggy rocks o'erhung,
Beneath whose base a sanded bench, with shade
Of furze and tangling thicket was o'erlaid,
Reynard his palace kept, his regal seat,
His fort of sure resource and last retreat;
The rest were but the mansions of a night,
For casual respite, or for fresh delight.

Here a Vulcanian Cacus erst was said
To hale the carcases whose blood he shed;
Or as in rolls of old romance we read
Of ravening giants, an enormous breed,
With grizly bones who hung their spacious bower,
Dire trophies of their cruelty and power:
So bones and blood did Reynard's hall distain,
And whitening skeletons confess'd the slain;
Hens, leverets, lambs,—sad trophies of his art,
His raging appetite and ruthless heart.

432

To this dread fort, with many a hard essay,
We win with peril our o'er-labour'd way;
At length our journey, not our work is done,
The way indeed, but not the fort is won.

Here had the felon earth'd;—with many a hound
And many a horse we gird his hold around:
The hounds 'fore heaven their accusation spread,
And cry for justice on his caitiff head.

Meanwhile, with cutlasses, we clear each bush
Of platted black-thorn, and of stubborn brush,
Remove the covert of befriending night,
And on the cavern's entrance pour the light.—
Aghast, and trembling in the burst of day,
With haggard eyes the shrinking savage lay;
In vain he glares his desperate glance around,
No scape—no stratagem—no hope is found!
He dies!—he dies! the echoing hills reply,
And the loud triumph rends the vaulted sky.

381

REDEMPTION:

A POEM.

383

It comes; the wish'd, the long expected morn—
“Thou Son of Man, thou Son of GOD, be born!”
Lo, He descends, and bows the yielding skies;
To meet Him, the exulting valleys rise:
Death shrinks and trembles, fearing to be slain;
And all Hell quakes throughout its deep domain.

Yet comes He not, array'd in worldly show,
Nor in the weakness of man's power below:
In human flesh, his Godhead He conceals;
In human form, Immensity He veils:
Eternal, He assumes a mortal frame;
And, in subjection, lo, the world's SUPREME!

384

'Tis come; the day of health, the saving morn—
The Son of GOD, The Babe of Love is born!
Behold, All Heaven descends upon the wing,
And choiring angels “Glory, glory!” sing;
“Glory to GOD, from Whom such bounties flow!
“And Peace on earth, Good-will to man below!”

“Tidings we bring, glad tidings of Free Grace,
“Tidings of Joy to All of human race!
“The promised day is come, the great event—
“To you A Child is born, A Son is sent;
“A Saviour, Christ, The Lowly, The Supreme,
“Gracious to pardon, mighty to redeem!
“Within his hand the nations shall be weigh'd,
“The world upon his infant-shoulder laid.
“His name is Wonderful; He shall be stiled
“The God of Power, the All-embracing Child;
“The imbosom'd sun, whose Inward Beam imparts
“Wisdom to souls, The Counsellor of hearts,
“Whose days nor know commencement nor encrease;
“The Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace!
“Your Saving GOD, in Bethlehem, ye shall find,
“Swathed in a crib, on humbling straw reclined;

385

“He, who all things unites and comprehends,
“To stable with his lowliest brutes descends.
“Your songs, your songs, ye Morning Stars employ;
“And, all ye Sons of Glory, shout for joy!”

Approaching Seraphim The Babe surround,
And, with adoring reverence, bow profound;
Amazed to see their Infinite confined,
The Ancient of all Days in infancy inshrined.
With wondering eye, they pierce his filmy skin
And lucid flesh, when, lo, A Heaven within,
Wide as the round where yonder planets roll,
Though stretch'd to infinite from either pole;
Love, to whose depth no measure can descend;
And Bliss, encircling blessings, without end.

See the dear, little, helpless, mighty Hands,
So meekly yielded to maternal bands!
'Tis theirs the powers of darkness to repel,
To crush the pride of earth, and wrath of hell;
To lift the fallen, to prop the feeble knee,
To set the prisoners of his Israel free;
To burst the iron gates of sin and pain,
To number time and death among the slain;

386

Captive to lead captivity on high,
Follow'd by blood-bought myriads through the sky;
His Kingdom in Eternal Peace to found,
And beam forth blessings without end or bound.

Ye sophists, who, with scientific lore,
Nature's recluse arcana would explore;
Who, in your dreams of fancy, mould and wield
The mazy worlds of yon empyreal field,
And boast to have retraced, by reason's force,
The unmeasured chain of sequels to their source;
Come forward with your length and depth of thought,
And see all human learning set at nought:
Here, try to mete, to compass, to define,
And plumb your GOD with your five-fathom'd line!
Ye mighty too, beneath whose tyrant brow
Pale vassals shake, and servile nations bow,
Perish your pride! and let your glories fade!
Lo, Nature's Monarch in a manger laid!
Behold, The Word, at whose creative might
The heavens and earth sprung forth to form and light,

387

In Love descends, unutterably mild,
And smiles the World's Salvation—in a Child!

No clarions, yet, proclaim Him King of Kings;
No ensigns speak him the Supreme of things:
Humbly he lays his purple robe aside,
Until, for man, it shall in Blood be dyed;
Nor shall the Crown his Regal Brow adorn,
Till his Love twist it of the pointed thorn!

Ah, Father, Author, GOD of Boundless Grace!
What, what is man, with all his recreant race,
That they with Thine own Jesus should be weighed;
And, for their ransom, Such a Price be paid?

'Tis true, that man from his Creator came
All-bright, as from the sun his effluent beam;
Lord of these heavens and earth, the seas that flow,
The lands that germinate, and stars that glow.
Lovely without, and glorious all within,
He knew no sorrow, for he knew no sin:
His will was with The Father's Will inform'd;
His love was with The Love of Jesus warm'd;

388

The Eternal Light, that lights the solar ray,
Shed forth the Peace of his Diviner Day;
He felt the bliss of the SUPREMELY BLEST,
And GOD's Own Heaven was open'd in his breast.

But ah! he yet was frail, nor understood
There's but One Will, All-just, All-wise, All-good;
The Will, throughout the universe, who knows,
Alone, to Make, to Fit, and to Dispose.
The wretch, who dares a different will to frame,
Brings war into the works of Heaven's Supreme;
Of power would even Omnipotence defraud,
And blasts his being in the Will of GOD.

Hence, man, so great, so glorious, and so good,
Was tempted from the tower in which he stood.
Lured by external baits of sensual taste,
He wish'd to gratify, he long'd to feast;
The good of his subjected world to know;
Distinct from GOD, to win a Heaven below;
To found a new dominion of his own,
And reign sufficient to himself alone.

389

“Ingrate—O stop thee on the headlong brink!
“Ere thou dost take the fearful venture,—think!
“Think, from The GOD thou wishest to forego,
“All that thou art, thy bliss and being flow;
“And, can the creatures yield thee, should they list,
“More than The Source where thou and they exist?
“Of thy Creator if thou art bereft,
“Think, to Redeem, no other GOD is left!”
He listens not,—the infernal powers impel:
He long'd, he pluck'd, he tasted—and he fell.

O, what a Fall! a steep from high to low!
Extremes of bliss, to what extremes of woe!
Plumb, from his Heaven, this Second Angel fell
Down his own depth, his God-abandon'd hell:
Horror of horrors! darkness and despair!
He look'd for comfort—but no gleam was there.

O Love, Love, Love! stupendous, wide, and steep!
High o'er all heights, below damnation deep!
In vain the desperate rebel would essay,
From Thee to tear his being, far away;

390

Thy Saving Hand arrests his prone career;
For, to Thy Presence, every place is—here!

For him Thou hadst prepared a mediate seat,
Meet for his taste, and fitting to his state;
A seat of fleshly organs, gross and frail,
To dissolution doom'd, and form'd to fail.

He wakes to a new world, and, with new eyes,
Sees unknown elements, and unknown skies;
The husk and surface of that blest abode,
Where late he dwelt, internal, with his GOD.

He turns his eyes upon his carnal frame,
And sees it, all, a seat of filth and shame;
Fellow'd with brutes, with brutes to take his bed,
Like brutes to propagate, be born, and fed:
But different, far, the table and the treat;
Earth is their heaven, their home, and native seat:
For brutes, unearn'd, the ready banquet lies,
Apt to their taste, and obvious to their eyes;
But man must wring it from a grudging soil,
And win scant sustenance with sweat and toil.

391

He looks abroad, and sees the new-dropt fawn
Cloathed without care, and frisking on the lawn;
But finds his own new carcass bleak and bare,
And shivering in a strange and hostile air.
Yet know, O man, that all which can betide
From hard-fang'd avarice, or o'erbearing pride,
That art can compass from the flood or field,
All that these four-fold elements can yield,
Is barely to afford thee warmth and bread,
Like fellow brutes to be array'd and fed;
But ah, all, all, incapable, as wind,
To yield one morsel to the famish'd mind!

This the wretch finds (beguiled by devilish fraud)
The sum of all, for which he left his GOD;
The sum of all the good—he yet was blind
To half the evils that came close behind.

Late, lord of land and water, air and flame,
He wielded, at his will, their cumbrous frame;
Could pierce earth's dark and various entrails, through;
Could call forth all their wonders to his view;
Through minim forms the internal maze could trace,
And lift the broad-back'd mountains from their base.

392

To him, of every foliage, flower, and blade,
The fabric, use, and beauty, lay display'd;
Of living specks he pierced the fine machine,
And open'd to himself the world within;
Saw all with glory, as with skill, replete,
And traced the Artist to his inmost seat.

But now, fallen, fallen from his imperial tower,
'Reft of his glory, emptied of his power;
Degraded, hurl'd from his celestial steep,
And sunk in flesh, a dungeon dark and deep;
(Distance immense in nature, not in space,
But wider, wider far, than place from place!)
The insulting elements their lord controul,
And cast their four-fold fetters round his soul.

Dethroned, debased, without as from within,
Enslaved by matter, since enslaved by sin,
Corruption to its kindred mass lays claim,
And, entering, seizes his devoted frame.
Distemper follows, with his gloomy throng,
Bearing pests, stings, and fires, and racks along;
Languor that saps, and rueful throwes that grind;
With Death, who shakes the certain dart behind.

393

Already, o'er the sad subjected wight,
The lordly elements exert their right;
And on his limbs their baneful influence cast,
Parch'd in the beam, or shivering in the blast:
While high, o'er head, the gathering vapours frown,
And on his anguish look unpitying down;
Then flash in thunders, or in tempest pour,
And on his members dash the pelting shower.

But worse, far worse within, black storms infest
And shake the sphere of his Benighted Breast.
Still, round and round, the whirling passions tend,
And his sad heart with horrid conflict rend;
Impatience, rage, despair, untamed desire,
And hate, impregnate with infernal fire:
He calls for death, and would have ruin hurl'd
At Heaven, himself, the tempter, and the world.

But GOD, the One Eternal Thirst to bless,
Eyed his estate, and pity'd his distress.
“Adam,” he said, and look'd unmeasured grace,
“Adam, thou art fallen, and fallen is all thy race:
“Such as the tree is, such will be the fruit;
“The branch must bear the flavour of the root.

394

“Late I was in thee Love, and Power, and Will;
“My Glory did thy soul and body fill;
“But, laps'd from me, thy spirit and thy frame
“Sink to the principles from whence they came—
“Thy soul to its own helpless fierce desire,
“A rueful whirl of dark tormenting fire!
“Thy body to the grossness of its birth,
“Corruption to corruption, earth to earth!

“If, in thy strength, thou didst not hold thy state,
“How shall thy weakness reassume its seat?
“How, from thy pit of flesh, so dull and deep,
“Cast off the cumbrance, and ascend the steep?
“For, by the road thou hast fallen, as is most just,
“Through the same road, O man, return thou must;
“To Strength through weakness, and to Peace through strife,
“To Bliss through anguish, and through death to Life.

“But this no creature, not The Seraph can;
“Though once in GOD so mighty, less can man:

395

“This, therefore, Adam, thou canst never do;
“Thou in Thy GOD, then, must be Born Anew;
“Born a new creature of a Seed Divine,
“Reborn, O Adam, of Thy Son and Mine;
“Thou the Old Father of man's fallen estate,
“He the New Sire who shall regain their seat.

“Foil'd by a devilish foe, thy weakness fell,
“Captive to sense, and sin, and death, and hell;
“In weakness, therefore, must His Strength prevail,
“Though sense, and sin, and death, and hell assail;
“As man, in human flesh and frailty, He
“Must conquer all, O man, that conquer'd thee.

“Yes, from my bosom my Beloved I give,
“That my lost creatures may return, and live.
“He, for your sakes, shall lay his glory by;
“For you be born, and suffer, gasp, and die;
“The price of guilt my Holy-One shall pay,
“And tread, of death and hell, the bitterest way.

“You, by His Fetters, can alone be freed;
“To wash your stains, the Lamb of Love must bleed;

396

“So shall his woe turn all your woe to weal,
“His bruises medicine, and his woundings heal.

“Hence man, apostate man, so deeply lost,
“Shall weigh the curs'd commission, by the cost;
“Shall learn, as meet, to hold himself at nought;
“Shall feel he's all a folly, all a fault;
“In deep Abasement lift his suppliant eyes,
“In Lowliness alone be taught to rise;
“In tears, in anguish, shall his Guilt deplore,
“Shall call on Christ who can alone restore;
“By Him supported, shall affirm his ground,
“Shall struggle with the chains by which he's bound;
“Disclaim, detest the world, in which he fell;
“Oppose his champion'd soul to flesh and hell;
“Wish his old worm, his sin, and self undone,
“And catch, and cling to my All-saving Son!

“This in due time.

“Jesus, mean-while, shall steal, like doubtful morn,
“Into the breasts of all of woman born;

397

“There shed his Dawn of Coeternal Light,
“There struggle with their length and depth of night;
“A solid gloom! which He alone can melt;
“Which, like Ægyptian darkness, may be felt.

“His seed, in flesh, my Holy-One shall sow,
“And give it strength to root, and grace to grow;
“Man within man, begotten from above,
“Bearing the likeness of The Son of Love;
“Sons of my son, ordain'd to see my face;
“All embryon heirs of glory and of grace;
“But not mature to wing their native skies,
“Till their New Adam shall from death arise.

“Thus the new offspring shall the old put on,
“Making a double manhood, two in one;
“Of different principles, of different sires,
“Conceptions, tastes, enjoyments, and desires:
“The one, as earth, crude, grudging, grappling all
“To the dark center of its craving ball;
“The other, as the sun, benign and bright,
“A going forth on all in life and light.

398

“Hence, through the course of their sublunar life,
“Though brother'd, they shall be at truceless strife:
“What one approves, the other shall reject;
“What one detests, the other shall affect.
“So man, at once, shall court what he'll contemn,
“Neglect yet reverence, do what he'll condemn;
“At once transgress, and wish he could fulfill;
“Be righteous and unrighteous, good and ill;
“Bearing the witness and the seal, within,
“Of new and old, the man of grace and sin,
“The heart writ story of his rise and fall,
“The Gospel of his freedom and his thrall.

“Thy elder offspring, Adam, grown and strong,
“Frequent, shall drag his younger mate along;
“Like huge Leviathan, shall trust to play,
“And rule at large in his congenial sea:
“But mine within his jaws a barb shall place,
“And check the headlong monster in his race.
“The younger heir, invisibly, within,
“Shall oft convict his outward mate of sin;
“Reprove with judgment, and reform betimes;
“Or, with a whip, call'd CONSCIENCE, lash his crimes:

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“So may the blest the accursed one subdue,
“And the old man, at length, refine into the new!

“Nor grudge I, Adam, those fallen sons of thine,
“Flesh of thy flesh, to share a seat with mine,
“By Him sublimed into a nobler sphere;
“So they slay not their younger brothers, here.

“But, through much grief, this Glory must be won;
“Flesh, soil'd by sin, by Death must be undone;
“Must drop the world, wherein it felt its force,
“And, giant-like, rejoiced to run its course;
“Must drop each organ of its late delight;
“Must bid a long adieu to sense and sight,
“A long adieu to every darling lust;
“Must yield its passive members, dust to dust,
“Within the potter's furnace to be fined,
“And leave its grossness, with its guilt, behind.

“Meanspace, those forms of flesh, those sons of sin,
“Shall serve to hold my Priceless Pearls within;

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“As golden grain within prolific clay,
“To shoot and ripen toward a future day.

“Yon maggot, vilest offspring of vile earth,
“Answers the genial baseness of his birth:
“Lo, where he rolls and battens, with delight,
“In filth, to smell offensive, foul to sight!
“Well pleased, he drinks the stench, the dirt devours,
“And prides him in the puddle of his powers;
“Careless, unconscious of the beauteous guest,
“The Internal Speck committed to his breast.
“Yet, in his breast, The Internal Speck grows warm,
“And quickens into motion, life, and form;
“Far other form than that its fosterer bore,
“High o'er its parent-worm ordain'd to soar:
“The son, still growing as the sire decays,
“In radiant plumes his infant shape arrays;
“Matures, as in a soft and silent womb,
“Then, opening, peeps from his paternal tomb;
“Now, struggling, breaks at once into the day,
“Tries his young limbs, and bids his wings display,
“Expands his lineaments, erects his face,
“Rises sublime o'er all the reptile race;

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“From dew-dropt blossoms sips the nectared stream,
“And basks within the glory of the beam.

“Thus, to a sensual, to a sinful shrine,
“The SAVIOUR shall entrust His Speck Divine;
“In secret animate His Chosen Seed,
“Fill with His Love, and with His Substance feed;
“Inform it with sensations of His Own,
“And give it appetites to flesh unknown:
“So shall the lusts of man's old worm give place,
“His fervour languish, and his force decrease;
“Till spoil'd of every object, gross or vain,
“His pride and passions humbled, crush'd, and slain;
“From a false world to his First Kingdom won,
“His will, and sin, and sense, and self, undone;
“His Inward Man from death shall break away,
“And soar, and mingle with Eternal Day!”

This (in a word) The Father spoke—and streight
The Son descended from above all height.

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Upon the chaos of man's world he came,
And pierc'd the darkness with His Living Beam;
Then cast a rein on the reluctant will,
And bid the tempest of the soul be still.

The good from evil He did then divide,
And set man's darkness from GOD's Light aside:
Wide, from the heart, he bids His Will be done,
And there placed Conscience as a central sun;
Whence Reason, like the moon, derives, by night,
A weak, a borrow'd, and a dubious light.
But, down the soul's abyss, a region dire!
He caus'd the Stygian horrors to retire;
From whence ascends the gloom of many a pest,
Darkening the Beam of Heaven within the breast;
Atrocious intimations, causeless care,
Distrust, and hate, and rancour, and despair.

As in creation, when The Word gave birth
To every offspring of the teeming earth,
He now conceiv'd high fruits of happier use,
And bid the heart and head of man produce:
Then branch'd the pregnant will, and went abroad
In all the sweets of its Internal GOD;

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In every mode of Love, a fragrant throng,
Bearing the Heart-sent Charities along;
Divine Effusions of the human breast,
Within the very act of blessing, blest;
Desires that press another's weight to bear,
To soothe their anguish, to partake their care;
Pains that can please, and griefs that joys excite;
Bruises that balm, and tears that drop delight.
GOD saw the Seed was Precious; and began
To bless His Own Redeeming Work, in man.

Nor less, the pregnant region of the mind
Brought forth conceptions suited to its kind;
Faint emblems, yet of virtue to proclaim
That Parent-Spirit, whence our spirits came;
Spirits that, like their GOD, with mimic skill,
Produce new forms and images at will;
Thoughts that from earth, with wing'd emotion, soar,
New tracts expatiate, and new worlds explore;
Backward, through space and through duration, run,
Passing the bounds of all that e'er begun;
Then, as a glance of lightning, forward flee,
Straining to reach at all that e'er shall be.

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THUS, in the womb of man's abyss are sown
Natures, worlds, wonders, to himself unknown.
A comprehension, a mysterious plan
Of all The Almighty Works of GOD, is man;
From hell's dire depth to Heaven's supremest height,
Including good and evil, dark and light.
What shall we call This Son of Grace and sin,
This Dæmon, this Divinity within,
This Flame Eternal, this foul mould'ring clod—
A fiend, or Seraph—A poor worm, or GOD?

O, the fell conflict, the intestine strife,
This clash of good and evil, death and life!
What, what are all the wars of sea and wind,
Or wreck of matter, to This War of Mind?
Two minds in one, and each a truceless guest,
Rending the sphere of our distracted breast!
Who shall deliver, in a fight so fell;
Who save from this intestine dog of hell?

GOD! Thou hast said, that nature shall decay,
And all yon starr'd expansion pass away:
That, in Thy Wrath, pollution shall expire,
The sun himself consume with hotter fire;

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The melting earth forsake its form and face,
These elements depart, but find no place;
Succeeded by a peaceful bless'd Serene,
New Heavens and Earth, wherein the Just shall reign.

O then, upon The Same Benignant Plan,
Sap, crush, consume This Mass of Ill, in man!
Within this transient frame of mould'ring clay,
Let Death's cerberean dæmon have his day;
Let him tear off this world, the nurse of lust,
Grind flesh, and sense, and sin, and self, to dust—
But O, preserve The Principle Divine;
In Mind and Matter, save Whate'er is Thine!
O'er Time, and Pain, and Death, to be renew'd;
Fill'd with our GOD, and with our GOD indued!

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.