The Poetical Works of John Langhorne :: :: University of Virginia Library

Where is the man, who, prodigal of mind,
In one wide wish embraces human kind?
All pride of sects, all party zeal above,
Whose Priest is Reason, and whose God is Love;
Fair Nature's friend, a foe to fraud and art—
Where is the man, so welcome to my heart?

The sightless herd sequacious, who pursue
Dull Folly's path, and do as others do,
Who look with purblind prejudice and scorn,
On different sects, in different nations born,
Let Us, my Craufurd, with compassion view,
Pity their pride, but shun their error too.

From Belvidere's fair groves, and mountains green,
Which Nature rais'd, rejoicing to be seen,
Let Us, while raptur'd on her works we gaze,
And the heart riots on luxurious praise,
Th' expanded thought, the boundless wish retain.
And let not Nature moralize in vain.

O sacred Guide! preceptress more sublime
Than sages boasting o'er the wrecks of time!
See on each page her beauteous volume bear
The golden characters of good and fair.
All human knowledge (blush collegiate pride!)
Flows from her works, to none that reads denied.

Shall the dull inmate of pedantic walls,
On whose old walk the sunbeam seldom falls,
Who knows of nature, and of man no more
Than fills some page of antiquated lore—
Shall he, in words and terms profoundly wise,
The better knowledge of the world despise,
Think Wisdom center'd in a false degree,
And scorn the scholar of Humanity?

Something of men these sapient drones may know,
Of men that liv'd two thousand years ago.
Such human monsters if the world e'er knew,
As ancient verse, and ancient story drew!

If to one object, system, scene confin'd,
The sure effect is narrowness of mind.

'Twas thus St. Robert, in his lonely wood,
Forsook each social duty—to be good.
Thus Hobbes on one dear system fix'd his eyes,
And prov'd his nature wretched—to be wise.
Each zealot thus, elate with ghostly pride,
Adores his God, and hates the world beside.

Tho' form'd with powers to grasp this various ball,
Gods! to what meanness may the spirit fall?
Powers that should spread in Reason's orient ray,
How are they darken'd, and debarr'd the day!

When late, where Tajo rolls his ancient tide,
Reflecting clear the mountain's purple side,
Thy genius, Craufurd, Britain's legions led,
And Fear's chill cloud forsook each brightning head,
By nature brave, and generous as thou art,
Say did not human follies vex thy heart?
Glow'd not thy breast indignant, when you saw
The dome of Murder consecrate by Law?
Where fiends, commission'd with the legal rod,
In pure devotion, burn the works of God.

O change me, powers of Nature, if ye can,
Transform me, make me any thing but man.
Yet why? This heart all human kind forgives,
While Gillman loves me, and while Craufurd lives.
Is Nature, all benevolent, to blame
That half her offspring are their mother's shame?
Did she ordain o'er this fair scene of things
The cruelty of priests, or pride of kings?
Tho' worlds lie murder'd for their wealth or fame,
Is Nature all-benevolent to blame?

O that the world were emptied of its slaves!
That all the fools were gone, and all the knaves!

Then might we, Craufurd, with delight embrace,
In boundless love, the rest of human race.
But let not knaves misanthropy create,
Nor feed the gall of universal hate.
Wherever Genius, Truth, and Virtue dwell,
Polish'd in courts, or simple in a cell,
All views of country, sects, and creeds apart,
These, these I love, and hold them to my heart.

Vain of our beauteous isle, and justly vain,
For freedom here, and health, and plenty reign,
We different lots contemptuously compare,
And boast, like children, of a fav'rite's share.

Yet tho' each vale a deeper verdure yields
Than Arno's banks, or Andalusia's fields,
Tho' many a tree-crown'd mountain teems with ore,
Tho' flocks innumerous whiten every shore,
Why should we, thus with Nature's wealth elate,
Behold her different families with hate?
Look on her works—on every page you'll find
Inscrib'd the doctrine of the social mind.

See countless worlds of insect being share
Th' unenvied regions of the liberal air!
In the same grove what music void of strife!
Heirs of one stream what tribes of scaly life!
See Earth, and Air, and Fire, and Flood combine
Of general good to aid the great design!

Where Ancon drags o'er Lincoln's lurid plain,
Like a slow snake, his dirty-winding train,
Where fogs eternal blot the face of day,
And the lost bittern moans his gloomy way;
As well we might, for unpropitious skies,
The blameless native with his clime despise,
As him who still the poorer lot partakes
Of Biscay's mountains, or Batavia's lakes.

Yet look once more on Nature's various plan!
Behold, and love her noblest creature man!
She, never partial, on each various zone,
Bestow'd some portion, to the rest unknown,
By mutual interest meaning thence to bind
In one vast chain the commerce of mankind.

Behold, ye vain disturbers of an hour!
Ye dupes of Faction! and ye tools of Power!
Poor rioters on Life's contracted stage!
Behold, and lose your littleness of rage!
Throw Envy, Folly, Prejudice behind!
And yield to Truth the empire of the mind.

Immortal Truth! O from thy radiant shrine,
Where light created first essay'd to shine;
Where clust'ring stars eternal beams display,
And gems ethereal drink the golden day;
To chase this moral, clear this sensual night,
O shed one ray of thy celestial light!

Teach us, while wandering thro' this vale below
We know but little, that we little know.
One beam to mole-ey'd Prejudice convey,
Let Pride perceive one mortifying ray.
Thy glass to fools, to infidels apply,
And all the dimness of the mental eye.

Plac'd on this shore of Time's far-stretching bourn,
With leave to look at Nature and return;
While wave on wave impels the human tide,
And ages sink, forgotten as they glide;
Can life's short duties better be discharg'd,
Than when we leave it with a mind enlarg'd?

Judg'd not the old philosopher aright,
When thus he preach'd, his pupils in his sight?
“It matters not, my friends, how low or high
“Your little walk of transient life may lie.
“Soon will the reign of Hope and Fear be o'er,
“And warring passions militate no more.
“And trust me, he who, having once survey'd
“The good and fair which Nature's wisdom made,
“The soonest to his former state retires,
“And feels the peace of satisfied desires,
“(Let others deem more wisely if they can),
“I look on him to be the happiest man.”

So thought the sacred Sage, in whom I trust,
Because I feel his sentiments are just.

'Twas not in lustrums of long counted years
That swell'd th' alternate reign of hopes and fears;
Not in the splendid scenes of pain and strife,
That Wisdom plac'd the dignity of life:
To study Nature was the task design'd,
And learn from her th' enlargement of the mind.
Learn from her works whatever Truth admires,
And sleep in death with satisfied desires.