 | Poems by Dr. Roberts of Eton College |  |
1
A POETICAL ESSAY ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD.
I. PART I .
Πιστευσαι γαρ δει τον προσερχομενον τω Θεα,
οτι ΕΣΤΙ.
οτι ΕΣΤΙ.
ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST PART.
General invocation—First Proof of the Existence of God, drawn from the Creation of the World—The Aristotelian system of the World's Eternity, an objection to that proof—That system stated—and refuted—1st, From the lateness of History, Arts, Sciences, &c.—2dly, From the imperfect state of Geography —3dly, From the little alteration that is visible in those objects, which are subject to corruption and decay.—Second Proof of God's Existence drawn from the impossibility of any thing making itself—which introduces the Epicurean system— Epicurus's objections to the Wisdom of God in the Creation stated—and refuted.—Third Proof of the Existence of God drawn from the force of Conscience—An Apostrophe to Conscience. —Fourth Proof of the Existence of God drawn from universal Consent—instanced in Pagans—Mahometans— Christians—A Prayer for the Universality of the Christian Religion.
O Thou, who shrined in beams of purest light,
Encircled by the bright angelic host,
Thy ministers, survey'st whatever is
In earth, in highest heaven, Thee I approach
With awful reverence trembling: toward thy seat
I stretch my dazzled eye, if thence a ray
Haply may dart across my feeble spirit,
And touch my lips with fire. Then shall the Muse
Disdain all humbler themes; and soaring far
Above the vapours of this earthly sphere,
Sound an Arch-angel's trumpet, and proclaim,
‘I AM, who was, and is, and is to come.’
Encircled by the bright angelic host,
Thy ministers, survey'st whatever is
In earth, in highest heaven, Thee I approach
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I stretch my dazzled eye, if thence a ray
Haply may dart across my feeble spirit,
And touch my lips with fire. Then shall the Muse
Disdain all humbler themes; and soaring far
Above the vapours of this earthly sphere,
Sound an Arch-angel's trumpet, and proclaim,
‘I AM, who was, and is, and is to come.’
Sceptic, if never yet thine eye survey'd
Yon bright empyreal; if thy mind ne'er rov'd
O'er æther's spacious plains; look up, and tell
From what exhaustless stream the Lord of day
Drinks never-wasting fire; what hidden power
Wheels the bright planets round their central orb?
Who bids the silent moon with sober pace
Steal o'er the serene azure; and with stars
Spangles the vault of night? Who told the clouds
To drop rich moisture on the thirsty soil?
Who shap'd the lightning's nimble wing, and rais'd
The thunder's awful voice?—At thy command,
Great architect, at thy creative word,
Up from the vast and shapeless chaos rose
Harmonious order. Thee, Thee, mighty Lord,
Even to the center of the formless void
Confusion heard; and, with her thousand tongues,
‘At thy strong bidding,’ Discord sunk to rest.
Yon bright empyreal; if thy mind ne'er rov'd
O'er æther's spacious plains; look up, and tell
From what exhaustless stream the Lord of day
Drinks never-wasting fire; what hidden power
3
Who bids the silent moon with sober pace
Steal o'er the serene azure; and with stars
Spangles the vault of night? Who told the clouds
To drop rich moisture on the thirsty soil?
Who shap'd the lightning's nimble wing, and rais'd
The thunder's awful voice?—At thy command,
Great architect, at thy creative word,
Up from the vast and shapeless chaos rose
Harmonious order. Thee, Thee, mighty Lord,
Even to the center of the formless void
Confusion heard; and, with her thousand tongues,
‘At thy strong bidding,’ Discord sunk to rest.
'Twas then, then first, from Night's ungenial womb,
With all her hills, her vales, and sounding floods,
This goodly Planet sprung: then first the earth
Smiled with delicious verdure; fruit and flower
Scatter'd fresh odours thro the fragrant air;
The vast deep roar'd; and on the mountain's brow
The waving forest rear'd his stately head.
With all her hills, her vales, and sounding floods,
This goodly Planet sprung: then first the earth
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Scatter'd fresh odours thro the fragrant air;
The vast deep roar'd; and on the mountain's brow
The waving forest rear'd his stately head.
Or shall we rather say, this antient globe,
An emanation, which the Eternal Mind
By fate, not freedom, from his essence shed,
With him coæval, and with him to endure,
Runs on a ceaseless round?—Such was the tale,
That in Lycéum, by the hallow'd grove
Of Academe, the subtle Stagyrite
Told his admiring tribe; and drew their minds
From the First Good, First Perfect, and First Fair,
To idle dreams of vain philosophy.
Dreams, which nor haunted on Hydaspes' bank
The frantic Brachman; nor Phœnician seers
Vers'd in high pedigree, and antient lore;
Nor Memphian, tho the wonder-working Priest
In mystic symbols 'grav'd on many a stone
Her fabulous annals. Let proud Pekin's sons
Trace her dark records thro a thousand kings;
But shall that haughty empire date her birth
Ere Time his course began?—Go, ask of Earth,
Have thy steep hills for ever pierc'd the skies?
Ask of the Deep, if since his howling waves
Dash'd the rough rock, eternal years have roll'd?
Enquire, if Everlasting be his name?
An emanation, which the Eternal Mind
By fate, not freedom, from his essence shed,
With him coæval, and with him to endure,
Runs on a ceaseless round?—Such was the tale,
That in Lycéum, by the hallow'd grove
Of Academe, the subtle Stagyrite
Told his admiring tribe; and drew their minds
From the First Good, First Perfect, and First Fair,
To idle dreams of vain philosophy.
Dreams, which nor haunted on Hydaspes' bank
The frantic Brachman; nor Phœnician seers
5
Nor Memphian, tho the wonder-working Priest
In mystic symbols 'grav'd on many a stone
Her fabulous annals. Let proud Pekin's sons
Trace her dark records thro a thousand kings;
But shall that haughty empire date her birth
Ere Time his course began?—Go, ask of Earth,
Have thy steep hills for ever pierc'd the skies?
Ask of the Deep, if since his howling waves
Dash'd the rough rock, eternal years have roll'd?
Enquire, if Everlasting be his name?
Where, if this globe's eternal, where are all
Her Kings, her Patriots? Where, alas! are all
Her antient monuments of arts, and arms,
And tales of bleeding heroes? Shall we say,
Till Nimrod led his mighty bands to war,
That never chief had hurl'd the pointed lance,
Or drove the winged car? Did never bard,
Till Amram's son pour'd forth his raptur'd strains,
Record past actions of the brave, and wise?
Why unessay'd the deep, till toward her shore
Astonish'd Greece saw daring Cadmus spread
His swelling sails, and from the Tyrian main
Bring peace and science to her savage sons?
Why did no sage explain, how the white ray,
Refracted by dioptric glass, displays
Hues indistinct before, till Newton came,
Pride of Britannia's isle? Why flow'd the blood
Unknown, till Hervey thro' the united veins
Traced back its genial current to the heart?
Her Kings, her Patriots? Where, alas! are all
Her antient monuments of arts, and arms,
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Till Nimrod led his mighty bands to war,
That never chief had hurl'd the pointed lance,
Or drove the winged car? Did never bard,
Till Amram's son pour'd forth his raptur'd strains,
Record past actions of the brave, and wise?
Why unessay'd the deep, till toward her shore
Astonish'd Greece saw daring Cadmus spread
His swelling sails, and from the Tyrian main
Bring peace and science to her savage sons?
Why did no sage explain, how the white ray,
Refracted by dioptric glass, displays
Hues indistinct before, till Newton came,
Pride of Britannia's isle? Why flow'd the blood
Unknown, till Hervey thro' the united veins
Traced back its genial current to the heart?
7
Hark, how the heroes of imperial Rome
Boast their wide empire's universal sway
To distant climes her conquering eagles flew,
To Calpe's hills, to Thule's utmost shore,
And Ganges, farthest oriental stream,
Where rose the morn. But ah! in evil hour
She found what multitudes, who ne'er had felt
Her galling chain, were hid in regions dark
Of ice and frost; till from their barren caves
The populous North drove all her warrior clans
From Weser, and from Elbe, to Anio's bank,
And Tiber's frighted stream?—Have we forgot,
How, strange to tell, the wondering mariner,
Far in the bosom of the western deep
Found worlds unknown before; and from the top
Of Andes, saw the Amazonian stream
Swoln by the tribute of expanded lakes,
Rivers, and cataracts, thro forests wild
Pour his broad floods, and in his rapid course
Visit a thousand tribes?—And shall we call
That world eternal, whose undaunted sons
Ne'er circled half her orb? or can we deem
That everlasting ages could have roll'd,
Ere some uncheck'd adventurer had defied
The Hesperian foam, and to his hardy crew
Shewn the rich tribute of Potosi's mines?
Even yet much rests unknown. The day will come,
When some sad ship shall roam the Southern main,
With sails, and ensigns torn; and in the wide
Expanse of roaring waters, far beyond
Where the sun turns to visit northern climes,
Braced by the Antarctic circle shall descry
Some mighty continent. The ambitious Thrones
Of distant Europe 'cross the line shall send
Their thronging colonies, and disturb the rest
Of peaceful nations. Thee, Iberia, thee,
And thy false faith, some dying Motezume
Again shall curse, and, with his life, resign
His wrested sceptre to a stranger's hand.
Boast their wide empire's universal sway
To distant climes her conquering eagles flew,
To Calpe's hills, to Thule's utmost shore,
And Ganges, farthest oriental stream,
Where rose the morn. But ah! in evil hour
She found what multitudes, who ne'er had felt
Her galling chain, were hid in regions dark
Of ice and frost; till from their barren caves
The populous North drove all her warrior clans
From Weser, and from Elbe, to Anio's bank,
And Tiber's frighted stream?—Have we forgot,
How, strange to tell, the wondering mariner,
Far in the bosom of the western deep
Found worlds unknown before; and from the top
Of Andes, saw the Amazonian stream
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Rivers, and cataracts, thro forests wild
Pour his broad floods, and in his rapid course
Visit a thousand tribes?—And shall we call
That world eternal, whose undaunted sons
Ne'er circled half her orb? or can we deem
That everlasting ages could have roll'd,
Ere some uncheck'd adventurer had defied
The Hesperian foam, and to his hardy crew
Shewn the rich tribute of Potosi's mines?
Even yet much rests unknown. The day will come,
When some sad ship shall roam the Southern main,
With sails, and ensigns torn; and in the wide
Expanse of roaring waters, far beyond
Where the sun turns to visit northern climes,
Braced by the Antarctic circle shall descry
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Of distant Europe 'cross the line shall send
Their thronging colonies, and disturb the rest
Of peaceful nations. Thee, Iberia, thee,
And thy false faith, some dying Motezume
Again shall curse, and, with his life, resign
His wrested sceptre to a stranger's hand.
Besides, that's not eternal, which tho chance
Can alter, time corrupt, or force destroy,
Yet still remains, and fills the curious mind
With proofs of late creation. See what rocks,
What mountains rise, that cast their evening shade
Far o'er the plain beneath: tho part the wind
Sweep with its wings away; tho earthquakes tear
Their yawning cliffs; tho Time from year to year
Working with stealthy, and invisible hand,
Moulder their crumbling sides, they bend not yet
Their summits to the vale. With all his snows
Stands Teneriff; and Athos still o'erhangs
The Ægean, studded thick with shining isles,
Cyclad and Sporad. If those lofty hills
Knew no beginning, tho ten thousand years
But one small grain impair'd, their names, their place,
Had long been lost; beneath the insatiate waves
Each atom wash'd away; like that fam'd isle
Fancied of ancient fabulists, that with all
Her tower-crown'd cities, palaces, and fanes,
Sunk in the bosom of the Atlantic deep.
Can alter, time corrupt, or force destroy,
Yet still remains, and fills the curious mind
With proofs of late creation. See what rocks,
What mountains rise, that cast their evening shade
Far o'er the plain beneath: tho part the wind
Sweep with its wings away; tho earthquakes tear
Their yawning cliffs; tho Time from year to year
Working with stealthy, and invisible hand,
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Their summits to the vale. With all his snows
Stands Teneriff; and Athos still o'erhangs
The Ægean, studded thick with shining isles,
Cyclad and Sporad. If those lofty hills
Knew no beginning, tho ten thousand years
But one small grain impair'd, their names, their place,
Had long been lost; beneath the insatiate waves
Each atom wash'd away; like that fam'd isle
Fancied of ancient fabulists, that with all
Her tower-crown'd cities, palaces, and fanes,
Sunk in the bosom of the Atlantic deep.
Whatever is, hear Reason's voice, was made,
Or increate. If increate, 'tis God;
If made, by whom? Or was itself at once
Maker, and work, productive, and produced?
Vain sophistry! to some first plastic cause
Trace then its birth, and that first cause, is God.
For say, could matter by instinctive force
Start into sense, and motion? Hast thou seen
The cold dead clod wake into warmth, and life?
Say, did old Ocean with capacious hand
Scoop the deep channel for his roaring waves?
Did the tall mountain by spontaneous act
Lift his aspiring head; or did the moon
By unimparted, and essential power,
Mould her bright sphere, and point her silver shafts?
Did the free Atoms, in sage council met,
Debate where each should move? or did they float
Thro tracts of endless space, till Chance contrived
This order, till from universal strife
This universal harmony began?
Or increate. If increate, 'tis God;
If made, by whom? Or was itself at once
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Vain sophistry! to some first plastic cause
Trace then its birth, and that first cause, is God.
For say, could matter by instinctive force
Start into sense, and motion? Hast thou seen
The cold dead clod wake into warmth, and life?
Say, did old Ocean with capacious hand
Scoop the deep channel for his roaring waves?
Did the tall mountain by spontaneous act
Lift his aspiring head; or did the moon
By unimparted, and essential power,
Mould her bright sphere, and point her silver shafts?
Did the free Atoms, in sage council met,
Debate where each should move? or did they float
Thro tracts of endless space, till Chance contrived
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This universal harmony began?
Who, that on some deserted coast beheld
A stately pile with antique frieze adorn'd,
Ionic, or Corinthian, who would say
That storms had torn it from the mountain's side
With all its towers; or think the boisterous wind
Haply had fix'd it on its solid base?
Who, but would rather deem that painful art,
Tho now a stranger to this silent shore,
Had polish'd every column, every dome,
The moulded architrave, and fretted roof?
A stately pile with antique frieze adorn'd,
Ionic, or Corinthian, who would say
That storms had torn it from the mountain's side
With all its towers; or think the boisterous wind
Haply had fix'd it on its solid base?
Who, but would rather deem that painful art,
Tho now a stranger to this silent shore,
Had polish'd every column, every dome,
The moulded architrave, and fretted roof?
But who is He, that round yon garden bends
His steps, and with presumptuous tongue arraigns
Jehova's works?—I know his hoary hairs;
The
Sage of Pleasure: with the sons of Greece
I mix, and listen to his impious tale.
His steps, and with presumptuous tongue arraigns
Jehova's works?—I know his hoary hairs;
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I mix, and listen to his impious tale.
‘Think not a hand divine could form that globe,
‘Where scarce a trace of Wisdom may be seen,
‘Of Goodness, or of Power. For part the sun
‘With direct rays, and fire intense, denies
‘To human use; or dark Cimmerian frost
‘Has hid from mortal habitant: and part
‘Vast lakes, huge rocks, rough thorns, and barren sands
‘O'erspread; 'till man with patient care reform
‘The stubborn earth, and tame the ungenial soil.
‘Yet then, even then, when all his hopes are high,
‘When ripening fruits expect the reaper's scythe,
‘Oft he bewails the scorching heat; or weeps
‘To see the summer's angry storm descend,
‘And years of labour in a moment lost.
‘Where scarce a trace of Wisdom may be seen,
‘Of Goodness, or of Power. For part the sun
‘With direct rays, and fire intense, denies
‘To human use; or dark Cimmerian frost
‘Has hid from mortal habitant: and part
‘Vast lakes, huge rocks, rough thorns, and barren sands
‘O'erspread; 'till man with patient care reform
‘The stubborn earth, and tame the ungenial soil.
‘Yet then, even then, when all his hopes are high,
‘When ripening fruits expect the reaper's scythe,
‘Oft he bewails the scorching heat; or weeps
‘To see the summer's angry storm descend,
‘And years of labour in a moment lost.
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‘What mean those ministers of vengeance; gout,
‘And racking stone, and fever's raging fire?
‘Why shakes the South contagion from his wings;
‘While Death, grim tyrant, with unerring hand
‘Directs his dart unseen?—On the bare ground,
‘Like the poor shipwreck'd mariner, whom storms
‘Have cast on some inhospitable shore,
‘The new-born infant lies; thro many a moon,
‘Helpless and weak, he wails his bitter lot,
‘And each sad hour beholds his artless tear.
‘Not so the tenant of the field: he quits
‘His parent's side, and wantons o'er the lawn
‘Rejoicing: Earth for him spontaneous spreads
‘Ambrosial banquets; and for him the brook
‘Winds thro sequester'd vales his amber stream.’
‘And racking stone, and fever's raging fire?
‘Why shakes the South contagion from his wings;
‘While Death, grim tyrant, with unerring hand
‘Directs his dart unseen?—On the bare ground,
‘Like the poor shipwreck'd mariner, whom storms
‘Have cast on some inhospitable shore,
‘The new-born infant lies; thro many a moon,
‘Helpless and weak, he wails his bitter lot,
‘And each sad hour beholds his artless tear.
‘Not so the tenant of the field: he quits
‘His parent's side, and wantons o'er the lawn
‘Rejoicing: Earth for him spontaneous spreads
‘Ambrosial banquets; and for him the brook
‘Winds thro sequester'd vales his amber stream.’
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Fool, wast thou present, when the Almighty sunk
Earth's deep foundations, and to Ocean said,
‘Here thy proud waves be staid;’ when first the Stars
Chaunted their matin song, and Angels cried
‘Hosanna to the Highest?’—Thou wast not there;
But Wisdom was.—Ere yet the earth was made,
Ere yet the mountains were brought forth, or ere
The day-spring knew his place, at God's right hand
She sat, his chief delight. She sat, and saw
His spirit moving o'er the watry deep;
Saw genial light, obedient to his call,
Spring from the womb of darkness; she beheld
The ground yield grass and herb, yield fruit and flower,
And Man, imperial Man, the Lord of all,
Rise from the dust. She saw that all was good,
And with her voice divine stamp'd every work.
Earth's deep foundations, and to Ocean said,
‘Here thy proud waves be staid;’ when first the Stars
Chaunted their matin song, and Angels cried
‘Hosanna to the Highest?’—Thou wast not there;
But Wisdom was.—Ere yet the earth was made,
Ere yet the mountains were brought forth, or ere
The day-spring knew his place, at God's right hand
She sat, his chief delight. She sat, and saw
His spirit moving o'er the watry deep;
Saw genial light, obedient to his call,
Spring from the womb of darkness; she beheld
The ground yield grass and herb, yield fruit and flower,
And Man, imperial Man, the Lord of all,
Rise from the dust. She saw that all was good,
And with her voice divine stamp'd every work.
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Think'st thou the zone, that girds the torrid soil,
Untrod by human step? The pilot, born
Far from the sun's mæandring path, defies
The burning equinoctial: to the woods
Of hot Bornéo, to Guiana's shore,
He steers his prow undaunted. Oft within
The frozen circle of the Arctic pole,
He moors his vessel on some northern isle,
Greenland, or Zembla. There the shivering hinds
O'er their bleak mountains roam; nor wish to change
Their darkling twilight, and ungenial frost,
For brighter sunshine, or for milder skies.
Untrod by human step? The pilot, born
Far from the sun's mæandring path, defies
The burning equinoctial: to the woods
Of hot Bornéo, to Guiana's shore,
He steers his prow undaunted. Oft within
The frozen circle of the Arctic pole,
He moors his vessel on some northern isle,
Greenland, or Zembla. There the shivering hinds
O'er their bleak mountains roam; nor wish to change
Their darkling twilight, and ungenial frost,
For brighter sunshine, or for milder skies.
What tho with thorns and sand the earth be spread,
Say, would'st thou banish painful industry?
Say, would'st thou wish, with folded hands supine,
Like thine own Gods to sit, and dose away
A life of senseless ease? What tho' the storm
Oft blasts the planter's hope? drives not that storm
From the purg'd air the putrid pestilence,
Stalking thro noon-day's heat? What tho disease
Infect the feeble frame? yet hence arise
Cool thought, repentance, hence contempt of life,
And eager hope, that springs beyond the grave.
Say, would'st thou banish painful industry?
Say, would'st thou wish, with folded hands supine,
Like thine own Gods to sit, and dose away
17
Oft blasts the planter's hope? drives not that storm
From the purg'd air the putrid pestilence,
Stalking thro noon-day's heat? What tho disease
Infect the feeble frame? yet hence arise
Cool thought, repentance, hence contempt of life,
And eager hope, that springs beyond the grave.
Is death an evil? Tell me, would'st thou drag
A lingering dotage of eternal pain,
And, thro successive generations, shake
Thy hoary hairs, unhonour'd? or would'st wish
To fall, ere reason be matur'd by time;
Ere each fair object, that around thee shines,
Strike thy rapt soul with wonder? Think not then
That man can ripen, as the beast, that soon
Arrives at perfect growth, and soon decays;
Nor judge from Parts unknown, this wond'rous Whole.
A lingering dotage of eternal pain,
And, thro successive generations, shake
Thy hoary hairs, unhonour'd? or would'st wish
To fall, ere reason be matur'd by time;
Ere each fair object, that around thee shines,
Strike thy rapt soul with wonder? Think not then
That man can ripen, as the beast, that soon
Arrives at perfect growth, and soon decays;
Nor judge from Parts unknown, this wond'rous Whole.
18
Thus Heaven, and Earth, declare their Maker's praise:
Nor these alone; but in the human breast
A faithful monitor the Almighty placed,
A witness of Himself.
Nor these alone; but in the human breast
A faithful monitor the Almighty placed,
A witness of Himself.
Come then, the scene
Of frantic mirth is o'er: the social bowl,
The midnight frolic, and the scornful jest,
Are gone; thy youth is past, thy strength decay'd,
And all the partners of thy wanton hours
Are sunk in shame, and sorrow, to the grave.
Come, tell me, did a self-convicted soul
Ne'er check thy guilty joys? Did that blest Spirit
Who o'er the sinner's penitent mind distils
His precious balm, ne'er interrupt thy peace,
'Mid the rude sallies of unholy mirth,
And impure passion; while the still small voice
Of Conscience, made the hour of solitude
To thee more hideous, than the silent watch
Of midnight to the sleepless eye of pain,
Or pining care? O Conscience, heavenly guide,
Thou, 'mid the storms, and tempests of the world,
'Mid the rude blasts of chilling penury,
In tears of woe, in death's alarming hour
Spread'st round the good man's couch thy sheltering wing,
And all is peace: But oh! how sharp the pang,
When in the sinner's agonizing heart
Thou piercest deep, and driv'st the guilty wretch
Far from the confines of tumultuous joy
To scenes of melancholy, and black despair!
But whence these boding doubts? Why shrinks the soul
From future ill? If no superior Power
Claims homage, why do fancied evils scare
The heart of wisdom, that to crafty tales
Ne'er yielded tame submission? Gracious Lord,
'Tis Thou, that in the sinner's breast dost move
With kindliest influence; 'tis thy tender rod
That heals his soul with medicinal wounds:
The voice of Conscience is the voice of God.
Of frantic mirth is o'er: the social bowl,
The midnight frolic, and the scornful jest,
Are gone; thy youth is past, thy strength decay'd,
And all the partners of thy wanton hours
Are sunk in shame, and sorrow, to the grave.
Come, tell me, did a self-convicted soul
Ne'er check thy guilty joys? Did that blest Spirit
Who o'er the sinner's penitent mind distils
His precious balm, ne'er interrupt thy peace,
'Mid the rude sallies of unholy mirth,
And impure passion; while the still small voice
Of Conscience, made the hour of solitude
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Of midnight to the sleepless eye of pain,
Or pining care? O Conscience, heavenly guide,
Thou, 'mid the storms, and tempests of the world,
'Mid the rude blasts of chilling penury,
In tears of woe, in death's alarming hour
Spread'st round the good man's couch thy sheltering wing,
And all is peace: But oh! how sharp the pang,
When in the sinner's agonizing heart
Thou piercest deep, and driv'st the guilty wretch
Far from the confines of tumultuous joy
To scenes of melancholy, and black despair!
But whence these boding doubts? Why shrinks the soul
From future ill? If no superior Power
Claims homage, why do fancied evils scare
The heart of wisdom, that to crafty tales
20
'Tis Thou, that in the sinner's breast dost move
With kindliest influence; 'tis thy tender rod
That heals his soul with medicinal wounds:
The voice of Conscience is the voice of God.
Thee, universal King
, thy peopled earth,
Thro every region, every tribe, adores.
And tho rude Ignorance, with barbarous rites,
And uncouth gestures, howls her hymn of praise;
Tho senseless idols, or created lights
Of heaven usurp thine homage; yet to thee
Their voice is rais'd; to thee their incense smokes;
To thee in grove and vale their temples rise.
Thro every region, every tribe, adores.
And tho rude Ignorance, with barbarous rites,
And uncouth gestures, howls her hymn of praise;
Tho senseless idols, or created lights
Of heaven usurp thine homage; yet to thee
Their voice is rais'd; to thee their incense smokes;
To thee in grove and vale their temples rise.
With feathery crown, and flaming gems adorn'd,
The gaudy Mexican from cups of gold
Pours out the captive warrior's reeking blood
At Vitzipultzi's shrine; while, with loud shouts,
In mystic maze the virgins of the Sun
Dance round the bleeding victim. Near the banks
Of Zaara, whence the merchant, dreadful trade!
Comes fraught with slavery to Caribbean isles,
The tawny African o'er Ocean's stream
Spreads forth his arms; on bended knee implores
The howling winds; and begs the storm to drive
The cruel Christian far from Congo's coast.
21
Pours out the captive warrior's reeking blood
At Vitzipultzi's shrine; while, with loud shouts,
In mystic maze the virgins of the Sun
Dance round the bleeding victim. Near the banks
Of Zaara, whence the merchant, dreadful trade!
Comes fraught with slavery to Caribbean isles,
The tawny African o'er Ocean's stream
Spreads forth his arms; on bended knee implores
The howling winds; and begs the storm to drive
The cruel Christian far from Congo's coast.
Where Esperanza to the Indian main
Extends its rocks, the filthy native bows
With humblest reverence to the Moon: From her
He asks ripe fruits, and fertile seasons mild;
And ever as she swells the impetuous tide,
With antic dances, and rude carol, greets
Her rising beams. On rich Golconda's walls
Ten tedious nights, and ten long sleepless days,
The self-tormented Bramin sits; if FO
Well-pleas'd behold his pain, it recks not him
That torn with hooks of steel his mangled flesh
Pours streams of blood, or from his burning head
With livid light the spiral flames ascend.
Extends its rocks, the filthy native bows
With humblest reverence to the Moon: From her
He asks ripe fruits, and fertile seasons mild;
And ever as she swells the impetuous tide,
22
Her rising beams. On rich Golconda's walls
Ten tedious nights, and ten long sleepless days,
The self-tormented Bramin sits; if FO
Well-pleas'd behold his pain, it recks not him
That torn with hooks of steel his mangled flesh
Pours streams of blood, or from his burning head
With livid light the spiral flames ascend.
See, where the turban'd Caliph o'er the fields
Of fertile Syria spreads wide-wasting war
And famine: nor can groves of ravag'd palm,
Olives and figs, nor desolated vines
That crown'd the brink of Pharphar, lucid stream,
Nor widow's piercing shriek, nor orphan's tear,
Melt his obdurate soul: for not the lust
Of frantic power, or empire unconfin'd,
But burning zeal, and hope of future bliss,
Arm him with tenfold fury. On he goes
Till vanquish'd millions glut his righteous rage;
Then weeps all prostrate o'er Mohammed's tomb,
While Victory washes from her savage hands
The blood of slaughter'd hosts.
Of fertile Syria spreads wide-wasting war
And famine: nor can groves of ravag'd palm,
Olives and figs, nor desolated vines
That crown'd the brink of Pharphar, lucid stream,
Nor widow's piercing shriek, nor orphan's tear,
Melt his obdurate soul: for not the lust
Of frantic power, or empire unconfin'd,
23
Arm him with tenfold fury. On he goes
Till vanquish'd millions glut his righteous rage;
Then weeps all prostrate o'er Mohammed's tomb,
While Victory washes from her savage hands
The blood of slaughter'd hosts.
These, mighty Lord,
These all thy Being, and thy Power adore,
Thy Name unknown. Not so in those blest climes,
Where thy dear Son has rear'd his cross. For us
He left the regions of eternal day;
While all the host of Angels carol'd round
‘Glory to God on high.’ From east to west,
Swift as a sun-beam darts, the tidings flew
Of covenanted salvation. Scepter'd kings
In vain conspir'd to check its rapid course,
And Persecution drew her flaming sword:
Thy Word, great God, prevail'd.—O may it soon
O'er unenlighten'd realms its beams diffuse!
Then, to his long-lamented home restor'd,
The wand'ring Hebrew shall rebuild the walls
Of sacred Salem, and on Calvary's top
Adore his suffering Lord. The feast of love,
The banquet of remembrance dear, shall rise
In wild savannas, and 'mid boundless woods.
Then the fierce Arab, that now prowls for prey
O'er scorching sands, shall drink the cup of life,
Purg'd in baptismal streams; and every tribe
Of savage Indians, in the house of prayer
Kneel with meek faith, and shew Thy Kingdom come.
These all thy Being, and thy Power adore,
Thy Name unknown. Not so in those blest climes,
Where thy dear Son has rear'd his cross. For us
He left the regions of eternal day;
While all the host of Angels carol'd round
‘Glory to God on high.’ From east to west,
Swift as a sun-beam darts, the tidings flew
Of covenanted salvation. Scepter'd kings
In vain conspir'd to check its rapid course,
24
Thy Word, great God, prevail'd.—O may it soon
O'er unenlighten'd realms its beams diffuse!
Then, to his long-lamented home restor'd,
The wand'ring Hebrew shall rebuild the walls
Of sacred Salem, and on Calvary's top
Adore his suffering Lord. The feast of love,
The banquet of remembrance dear, shall rise
In wild savannas, and 'mid boundless woods.
Then the fierce Arab, that now prowls for prey
O'er scorching sands, shall drink the cup of life,
Purg'd in baptismal streams; and every tribe
Of savage Indians, in the house of prayer
Kneel with meek faith, and shew Thy Kingdom come.
It was not the intention of the Author, either in this or the two following Parts, to introduce all the arguments, which have so frequently and forcibly been made use of on these subjects; but only to select those which seemed most adapted to a work of this nature.
Then flew one of the Seraphim unto me, having a live coal in his hand—and he laid it upon my mouth, and said, This hath touched thy lips— Isaiah vi. 6, 7.
25
II. PART II.
Ο Πατηρ υμων ο εν τοις ουρανοις ΤΕΛΕΙΟΣ εστε.
27
ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND PART.
General address to the Deity—1. On the Unity of God.—On Polytheism—On Idolatry—instanced in the conduct of the Israelites—The Manichean doctrine of two first Principles refuted —2. On the Eternity of God—on the destruction of the idols, and oracles, in the Heathen world—3. On the Omnipresence —4. On the Omnipotence of God—extended over the whole creation—particularly over Man—instanced in the destruction of Pharaoh, and the settlement of the Israelites in Canaan—in the case of Nebuchadnezzar—God's power exhibited in the Sea—5. On the Omniscience—6. On the Wisdom of God—in the production of various animals —in the formation of Man—in the faculties of the human mind—7. On the Goodness of God—shewn in the animal world—in the vegetable—in the change of seasons—in the various products of various countries—in providing herbs, &c. for medicine—8. On the Veracity of God—shewn in fulfilling the predictions of his Prophets—9. On the Justice of God—the unequal Distribution of Good and Evil an objection to the Justice of God—that objection answered—The same objection enforced—answered again, by shewing that all these inequalities will be adjusted hereafter—exemplified in the story of the Rich Man, and Lazarus—10. On the Mercy of God —the office of Mercy to soften the Severity of Justice—The Redemption of Man undertaken by Christ—His Mercy in his life—and at his death.
29
God
is, and God is ONE; the first, the last,
‘Immutable, immortal, infinite;’
His wonders who shall tell? His hand supports
The golden chain, that links a thousand worlds.
His undivided essence fills the realms
Of time, and boundless space: His eye surveys
Effects far distant, ere their causes rise:
His all-pervading mind disdains the help
Of equal, or inferior: He unmix'd,
Unaided, undirected, uncontroul'd,
Reigns sovereign o'er his works, and reigns alone.
‘Immutable, immortal, infinite;’
His wonders who shall tell? His hand supports
The golden chain, that links a thousand worlds.
His undivided essence fills the realms
30
Effects far distant, ere their causes rise:
His all-pervading mind disdains the help
Of equal, or inferior: He unmix'd,
Unaided, undirected, uncontroul'd,
Reigns sovereign o'er his works, and reigns alone.
Ere yet the Sun of righteousness dispell'd
The clouds of popular error, not a hill,
But on his secret top, nor tufted grove,
But deep within embowering shades, enshrined
A tutelary Power. Fauns hence, and Nymphs,
Oread and Dryad, and that rabble rout,
Pan's sylvan court: besides what deities
Of mightier name, renown'd in ancient Greece,
Or Phrygia, or Etruria's gloomy vales,
Claim'd general homage o'er the spacious earth.
The clouds of popular error, not a hill,
But on his secret top, nor tufted grove,
But deep within embowering shades, enshrined
A tutelary Power. Fauns hence, and Nymphs,
Oread and Dryad, and that rabble rout,
Pan's sylvan court: besides what deities
Of mightier name, renown'd in ancient Greece,
Or Phrygia, or Etruria's gloomy vales,
Claim'd general homage o'er the spacious earth.
31
Where fam'd Alphëus washes Pisa's plain,
Arm'd with his lightening stood Olympian Jove,
Of Gentile gods supreme. The Thracian bow'd
To Mars, stern King of war. The vast domain
Of waters earth-encircling Neptune held,
His lot; while Pluto, pityless tyrant, ruled
The fleeting subjects of his nether world.
O ignorant of truth! One only Power
Rolls his loud thunder thro the lowering sky,
With lightening wing'd: the same dread Lord of Hosts
Directs the spear, and on the warrior's thigh
Girds the strong sword of conquest: roaring winds,
And all the tempests of the stormy deep,
Obey his voice; and at his vengeful wrath
Fallen Seraphs tremble in the realms of night.
Arm'd with his lightening stood Olympian Jove,
Of Gentile gods supreme. The Thracian bow'd
To Mars, stern King of war. The vast domain
Of waters earth-encircling Neptune held,
His lot; while Pluto, pityless tyrant, ruled
The fleeting subjects of his nether world.
O ignorant of truth! One only Power
Rolls his loud thunder thro the lowering sky,
With lightening wing'd: the same dread Lord of Hosts
Directs the spear, and on the warrior's thigh
Girds the strong sword of conquest: roaring winds,
And all the tempests of the stormy deep,
Obey his voice; and at his vengeful wrath
Fallen Seraphs tremble in the realms of night.
Ah! faithless Judah! could'st thou then forget
The stretch'd-out arm that clave the Red-sea waves,
That rain'd down Manna on thy wandering sons,
And led thee thro the pathless wilderness
Far from the house of bondage? The sweet land,
That flow'd with milk and honey, nectar'd streams,
Refresh'd thy weary feet. But oh! what mean
Those shouts of dissonance, and frantic mirth,
Round yon grim idol? See thy daughters bow
To devils! See, thy princes bend the knee
To Moloch, and to Dagon! Soon, too soon,
Shall sad captivity, and a stranger's land
Receive thee: soon thy harp untuned shall hang
By Babylon's proud waters; never more,
Till seventy tedious moons have twelve times waned,
To sing the songs of Sion. God shall rise,
And vindicate his name; he will not deign
To share the sacrifice of prayer, and praise;
For He is ONE; God ever, God alone.
32
That rain'd down Manna on thy wandering sons,
And led thee thro the pathless wilderness
Far from the house of bondage? The sweet land,
That flow'd with milk and honey, nectar'd streams,
Refresh'd thy weary feet. But oh! what mean
Those shouts of dissonance, and frantic mirth,
Round yon grim idol? See thy daughters bow
To devils! See, thy princes bend the knee
To Moloch, and to Dagon! Soon, too soon,
Shall sad captivity, and a stranger's land
Receive thee: soon thy harp untuned shall hang
By Babylon's proud waters; never more,
Till seventy tedious moons have twelve times waned,
To sing the songs of Sion. God shall rise,
And vindicate his name; he will not deign
33
For He is ONE; God ever, God alone.
Yet some there are, who say, two Principles,
Equal in power, in nature opposite,
Divide the world; Author of evil this,
And that of every good: that one with frosts,
And noxious mildew blasts the ripening fruit;
Lets loose the rage of famine, and of war,
Of tyranny, and wide-wasting pestilence;
Firm foe to man, prompts the desponding mind
To deeds of desperation; arms with steel
The dark assassin of the midnight hour;
And in the full-swoln vessels of the soul
Pours lust, and rage, and rancorous envy: while
The Rival of his reign with gentle showers
Waters the thirsty soil; o'er ravag'd fields
Sends peace, sends plenty; from contagious mists
Purges the winnow'd air; the drooping spirit
Revives with hope's strong cordial; blunts the point
Of the drawn dagger; and distills the dew
Of soft affection o'er the melting heart.
But shall not this divided kingdom fall?
Shall not the world, by adverse powers convuls'd,
Shake to the center? Or subsist its laws
Immutable by everlasting strife?
Equal in power, in nature opposite,
Divide the world; Author of evil this,
And that of every good: that one with frosts,
And noxious mildew blasts the ripening fruit;
Lets loose the rage of famine, and of war,
Of tyranny, and wide-wasting pestilence;
Firm foe to man, prompts the desponding mind
To deeds of desperation; arms with steel
The dark assassin of the midnight hour;
And in the full-swoln vessels of the soul
Pours lust, and rage, and rancorous envy: while
The Rival of his reign with gentle showers
Waters the thirsty soil; o'er ravag'd fields
34
Purges the winnow'd air; the drooping spirit
Revives with hope's strong cordial; blunts the point
Of the drawn dagger; and distills the dew
Of soft affection o'er the melting heart.
But shall not this divided kingdom fall?
Shall not the world, by adverse powers convuls'd,
Shake to the center? Or subsist its laws
Immutable by everlasting strife?
O fountain pure, from whose original stream
To beast, to man, and all the angelic host,
Flows life, thy being inexhaustible
End, nor beginning bounds. The motley crew
Of idols, Ashtaroth and Baälim,
Are fled: no more the Syrian damsels weep
Their lost Adonis; and the frantic maid
No more hears Delphi, central rock, resound
With oracles obscure: Dodona's oaks
Stand silent; and deserted is the fane,
Where dwelt Ammonian Jove. But Thou art still
The same thro endless ages: earth's strong base
Thy hand first laid, and scoop'd the vault of heaven.
Earth's base shall sink, and the high vault of heaven
Shall melt away; but Thou shalt ay endure.
To beast, to man, and all the angelic host,
Flows life, thy being inexhaustible
End, nor beginning bounds. The motley crew
Of idols, Ashtaroth and Baälim,
Are fled: no more the Syrian damsels weep
Their lost Adonis; and the frantic maid
35
With oracles obscure: Dodona's oaks
Stand silent; and deserted is the fane,
Where dwelt Ammonian Jove. But Thou art still
The same thro endless ages: earth's strong base
Thy hand first laid, and scoop'd the vault of heaven.
Earth's base shall sink, and the high vault of heaven
Shall melt away; but Thou shalt ay endure.
Thro the vast regions of unbounded space,
O'er all thine elements, o'er all thy worlds,
Thine essence spreads. What tho the sinner flee
To forest dark, or thickest grove, retired
From human sight? thy never-sleeping eye
Pierces the gloom, and marks his devious path,
What tho he curtain round his pillow'd head,
Wrapt in the folds of sleep? about his couch
Thou art; to Thee the darkness and the light
Shine with one blaze, and night is clear as day.
O whither then, say whither shall he go
From thy pervading presence? Shall he soar
To heaven's high towers? but there enthroned thou sit'st:
Or shall he sink into the deep abyss,
There, where the roots of earth and ocean grow,
Unfathomable? yet still thy spirit broods
O'er hell's dark womb, and fills the vacant gulf.
O'er all thine elements, o'er all thy worlds,
Thine essence spreads. What tho the sinner flee
To forest dark, or thickest grove, retired
From human sight? thy never-sleeping eye
Pierces the gloom, and marks his devious path,
What tho he curtain round his pillow'd head,
Wrapt in the folds of sleep? about his couch
Thou art; to Thee the darkness and the light
36
O whither then, say whither shall he go
From thy pervading presence? Shall he soar
To heaven's high towers? but there enthroned thou sit'st:
Or shall he sink into the deep abyss,
There, where the roots of earth and ocean grow,
Unfathomable? yet still thy spirit broods
O'er hell's dark womb, and fills the vacant gulf.
Great is the Lord. He, nor confin'd by place,
Spirit ætherial, nor by fate controul'd,
Displays the glories of OMNIPOTENCE,
The wonders of his might. When from his throne
He darts the forked lightning; when his voice
Speaks in loud thunder to the sons of earth;
Huge Ocean trembles thro his world of waves;
The cloud-capt mountains smoke; with all his trees,
Cedar, and pine, the lofty forest bows.
But Man undaunted stands amidst the shock
With vacant, unregarding eye: He fears
Nor rattling elements, nor all the bolts
Of vengeance, tho suspended, soon to fall
With threefold force on his devoted head.
Spirit ætherial, nor by fate controul'd,
Displays the glories of OMNIPOTENCE,
The wonders of his might. When from his throne
He darts the forked lightning; when his voice
Speaks in loud thunder to the sons of earth;
Huge Ocean trembles thro his world of waves;
The cloud-capt mountains smoke; with all his trees,
37
But Man undaunted stands amidst the shock
With vacant, unregarding eye: He fears
Nor rattling elements, nor all the bolts
Of vengeance, tho suspended, soon to fall
With threefold force on his devoted head.
Stop, Pharaoh, stop. Behold the waves return:
Hark, how the mighty waters round thee roar!
While yon vile slaves, safe landed on the beach,
Defy those idle threats: the Arabian gulf
Shuts close, and swallows thee with all thine host.
Fear not, O Israel, fear not: to the land,
(Whence Jacob led thy great progenitors,
To Goshen, fruitful soil,) shalt thou return.
There shalt thou find nor famine-blasted plains,
Nor waters prison'd in the steely rock;
But from each pore the gushing stream shall flow
To slake thy thirst; the olive, and the vine,
Shall weave their twisted foliage round thy head.
On, Israel, on. Fear not or Eglon's king,
Or Sihon, or the giant form of Og,
Lord of the herds that range o'er Basan's hill:
Fear not, tho all the powerful monarchs leagued,
Even from the river (that in Eden flow'd,
Watering the tree of knowledge,) to the sea,
With waving banners, and confederate spears,
Breathe vengeance. 'Tis thy God, that leads thee on:
'Tis He shall quell the force of Ammorite,
And proud Philistine; He shall speak, and strait
The sun shall stop to hail thy victory,
While half the nations of the astonish'd earth
Shall howl in mid-day darkness. In the land,
The promis'd land, thy kings shall sheath the sword,
And all thy sons, and daughters, rest in peace.
Hark, how the mighty waters round thee roar!
While yon vile slaves, safe landed on the beach,
Defy those idle threats: the Arabian gulf
Shuts close, and swallows thee with all thine host.
Fear not, O Israel, fear not: to the land,
(Whence Jacob led thy great progenitors,
To Goshen, fruitful soil,) shalt thou return.
There shalt thou find nor famine-blasted plains,
Nor waters prison'd in the steely rock;
38
To slake thy thirst; the olive, and the vine,
Shall weave their twisted foliage round thy head.
On, Israel, on. Fear not or Eglon's king,
Or Sihon, or the giant form of Og,
Lord of the herds that range o'er Basan's hill:
Fear not, tho all the powerful monarchs leagued,
Even from the river (that in Eden flow'd,
Watering the tree of knowledge,) to the sea,
With waving banners, and confederate spears,
Breathe vengeance. 'Tis thy God, that leads thee on:
'Tis He shall quell the force of Ammorite,
And proud Philistine; He shall speak, and strait
The sun shall stop to hail thy victory,
While half the nations of the astonish'd earth
Shall howl in mid-day darkness. In the land,
39
And all thy sons, and daughters, rest in peace.
But what is that, which o'er the spacious mead
(Where Tigris and Euphrates, mingled streams,
Haste to the Persian sea,) moves slowly on,
And pastures sorrowing on the verdant grass?
Is that the great Nebassar? is that he
Who round the towering walls of Babylon
Ten thousand chariots drove; who to the spires
Of sacred Salem led the embattled host;
Who desolated Jordan's fertile fields,
And laid God's favour'd temple in the dust?
Alas, how fallen! Learn hence ye great, ye vain,
Learn hence, ye sovereign monarchs of the earth,
How impotent your power. The King of kings
Laughs all your pomp to scorn, and blasts the pride
Of visionary conquest; whether thro
Wide pathless woods ye seek the intrenched foe,
Or tempt the perils of the roaring deep.
(Where Tigris and Euphrates, mingled streams,
Haste to the Persian sea,) moves slowly on,
And pastures sorrowing on the verdant grass?
Is that the great Nebassar? is that he
Who round the towering walls of Babylon
Ten thousand chariots drove; who to the spires
Of sacred Salem led the embattled host;
Who desolated Jordan's fertile fields,
And laid God's favour'd temple in the dust?
Alas, how fallen! Learn hence ye great, ye vain,
Learn hence, ye sovereign monarchs of the earth,
How impotent your power. The King of kings
Laughs all your pomp to scorn, and blasts the pride
40
Wide pathless woods ye seek the intrenched foe,
Or tempt the perils of the roaring deep.
With floating pennants, and expanded sails,
Safe in her port the gallant vessel rides.
From every side the winding coast resounds
With festive shouts: the creaking anchor's rais'd;
The ship no more is seen: far, far from shore,
Secure 'tis bounding o'er Biscaya's bay,
Or thro the straits Herculean. But behold
The storms and winds arise, the rains descend,
From heaven's wide gate the thunder roars amain;
Where, where is now her strength? ah! what avails
The stout oak, harden'd by Norwegian frosts?
What profit now tough cables, towering masts,
And all the brazen instruments of war?
'Tis God, that bids his clashing elements
Confound the pride of man. See, where the deep
Yawns wide! the ship, with all her freighted crew,
Down sinks, and not a wreck is left behind.
Safe in her port the gallant vessel rides.
From every side the winding coast resounds
With festive shouts: the creaking anchor's rais'd;
The ship no more is seen: far, far from shore,
Secure 'tis bounding o'er Biscaya's bay,
Or thro the straits Herculean. But behold
The storms and winds arise, the rains descend,
From heaven's wide gate the thunder roars amain;
Where, where is now her strength? ah! what avails
The stout oak, harden'd by Norwegian frosts?
What profit now tough cables, towering masts,
And all the brazen instruments of war?
41
Confound the pride of man. See, where the deep
Yawns wide! the ship, with all her freighted crew,
Down sinks, and not a wreck is left behind.
As one, who first surveys the unbounded main,
Pacific, or Hesperian, stretches far
His aching eye to where heaven's concave arch
Bends to the waves, yet still nor all the expanse,
Nor depth conceives; so labours the weak spirit,
That in the bounds of mortal intellect
Strains to compress OMNISCIENCE. Who shall scan
Thy knowledge, wondrous Lord? or how shall dwell
That vast idea in created mind?
For not an atom heaven, or earth contains,
Not one wing'd word, no thought, yet unconceiv'd,
Is hid from thee. The tongue, the heart is thine;
And in thy book was written every limb
While yet unfashion'd in the plastic cell.
Pacific, or Hesperian, stretches far
His aching eye to where heaven's concave arch
Bends to the waves, yet still nor all the expanse,
Nor depth conceives; so labours the weak spirit,
That in the bounds of mortal intellect
Strains to compress OMNISCIENCE. Who shall scan
Thy knowledge, wondrous Lord? or how shall dwell
That vast idea in created mind?
For not an atom heaven, or earth contains,
Not one wing'd word, no thought, yet unconceiv'd,
Is hid from thee. The tongue, the heart is thine;
42
While yet unfashion'd in the plastic cell.
From the small insect, that escapes the search
Of microscopic eye, thro all the tribes
Of this full-peopled globe, thro every stage
Of sense, of instinct, or of intellect,
To man's imperial race, God's WISDOM shines;
But chief in him, the last, the noblest work.
Of microscopic eye, thro all the tribes
Of this full-peopled globe, thro every stage
Of sense, of instinct, or of intellect,
To man's imperial race, God's WISDOM shines;
But chief in him, the last, the noblest work.
Yet boast not, Man, thy well-compacted frame,
Thy symmetry of shape, thy graceful limbs;
How, each to each adjusted, all perform
Their proper functions; boast nor strength in fight,
Nor swiftness in the race. Can'st thou o'ertake
The towering eagle in his course? or bid
The famish'd lion crouch within his den,
Scared by thy lifted arm? 'tis Mind, 'tis Mind,
That o'er each bird, which cleaves the liquid air,
O'er every beast, that ranges wood, or wild,
Exalts thee: there in express characters
Great Elohim's hand his own bright image drew.
Thy symmetry of shape, thy graceful limbs;
How, each to each adjusted, all perform
Their proper functions; boast nor strength in fight,
Nor swiftness in the race. Can'st thou o'ertake
The towering eagle in his course? or bid
The famish'd lion crouch within his den,
Scared by thy lifted arm? 'tis Mind, 'tis Mind,
43
O'er every beast, that ranges wood, or wild,
Exalts thee: there in express characters
Great Elohim's hand his own bright image drew.
From each fair object to the enthroned Soul,
Like rivers, that with tributary floods
Increase old Ocean's ever-flowing stream,
The SENSES, faithful ministers, convey
Their vivid images. The listening ear
Sounds pleasing, or of harsher dissonance,
Leads through her ductile channels: hence if fife,
And sprightly clarion pour their martial moods,
Rekindling ardour fires the warrior's breast,
Panting for fields of glory. Down the cheek
Of pensive Pity drops the melting tear,
When the soft lute draws out in plaintive tone
Her pausing notes of sorrow. The keen eye,
That darts from earth to heaven, each object scans,
Hill, vale, or shady grove, and on the mind
The justly-represented landscape paints
In tints of liveliest hue. So on the bank
Of some clear stream the wondering shepherd stands,
And in the mirrour of the level lake
Sees woods, and lawns, exactest portraiture,
Reflected to his view. 'Tis thus the SOUL,
Herself unmoved, receives her various stores.
Then JUDGMENT with slow art, and patient skill
Sorts each from each, disjoins, unites, compacts
In aptest symmetry; while sportive WIT
With random hand confounds his painful toil;
And smiling, to the fancy strait presents
From grave, and gay, from light, and darkest shade,
One motley picture. Soon the Mind, o'ercharg'd
With rich ideas, seeks a calm repose:
And to the MEMORY's faithful care commits
Her still-increasing treasures; there for hours,
For years they rest in silence, till drawn forth
By fit occasion. Hence remembrance dear
Of friends long lost consoles the pensive breast:
Hence the sweet scenes of innocence and youth,
Renew'd by recollection, please again:
Vain else were human learning, human art,
Vain all the ties of gratitude, and love.
Like rivers, that with tributary floods
Increase old Ocean's ever-flowing stream,
The SENSES, faithful ministers, convey
Their vivid images. The listening ear
Sounds pleasing, or of harsher dissonance,
Leads through her ductile channels: hence if fife,
And sprightly clarion pour their martial moods,
Rekindling ardour fires the warrior's breast,
Panting for fields of glory. Down the cheek
44
When the soft lute draws out in plaintive tone
Her pausing notes of sorrow. The keen eye,
That darts from earth to heaven, each object scans,
Hill, vale, or shady grove, and on the mind
The justly-represented landscape paints
In tints of liveliest hue. So on the bank
Of some clear stream the wondering shepherd stands,
And in the mirrour of the level lake
Sees woods, and lawns, exactest portraiture,
Reflected to his view. 'Tis thus the SOUL,
Herself unmoved, receives her various stores.
Then JUDGMENT with slow art, and patient skill
Sorts each from each, disjoins, unites, compacts
In aptest symmetry; while sportive WIT
With random hand confounds his painful toil;
45
From grave, and gay, from light, and darkest shade,
One motley picture. Soon the Mind, o'ercharg'd
With rich ideas, seeks a calm repose:
And to the MEMORY's faithful care commits
Her still-increasing treasures; there for hours,
For years they rest in silence, till drawn forth
By fit occasion. Hence remembrance dear
Of friends long lost consoles the pensive breast:
Hence the sweet scenes of innocence and youth,
Renew'd by recollection, please again:
Vain else were human learning, human art,
Vain all the ties of gratitude, and love.
Far as the flaming walls, creation's bound,
Beasts wild, or tame, that o'er the forest range,
Or crop the flowery mead; the finny race,
And that Leviathan, who wont to sport
In oceans of thick ice: the birds, that sail
O'er the clear azure on expanded wing,
All, all declare thy GOODNESS. Now the grove
Shoots forth luxuriant foliage, and the earth
Flowers of a thousand dies: 'Tis Spring; and soon
Swart Summer, waving with his ripen'd fruits,
With shining hook will arm the reaper's hand.
Next Autumn comes: He, with impurpled foot
Shall tread the press, and from the full-swoln grape
Extract delicious juice: 'tis he shall stain
Each verdant leaf in tints of brownest hue,
Till boisterous Winter with his giant hand
Shakes the dismantled forest, where each branch
Shines spangling to the sun with hoary frost.
Each change how regular! By God's command
Alternate seasons mark the varied year.
He, universal parent, still sustains
All that his word created: fix'd on him
Is every eye; and from his open'd hand
Flows liberal plenty o'er the sons of men.
Beasts wild, or tame, that o'er the forest range,
Or crop the flowery mead; the finny race,
46
In oceans of thick ice: the birds, that sail
O'er the clear azure on expanded wing,
All, all declare thy GOODNESS. Now the grove
Shoots forth luxuriant foliage, and the earth
Flowers of a thousand dies: 'Tis Spring; and soon
Swart Summer, waving with his ripen'd fruits,
With shining hook will arm the reaper's hand.
Next Autumn comes: He, with impurpled foot
Shall tread the press, and from the full-swoln grape
Extract delicious juice: 'tis he shall stain
Each verdant leaf in tints of brownest hue,
Till boisterous Winter with his giant hand
Shakes the dismantled forest, where each branch
Shines spangling to the sun with hoary frost.
Each change how regular! By God's command
47
He, universal parent, still sustains
All that his word created: fix'd on him
Is every eye; and from his open'd hand
Flows liberal plenty o'er the sons of men.
Not that each soil, or in degree, or kind,
Boasts the same produce. Thro wide fields of rice
Roam the parch'd hinds of India; mantling vines
Spread their soft tendrils o'er Burgundian hills.
Sweet is the fragrance which the evening breeze
From orange woods, on Lusitania's shore,
Wafts to the western waves: joyous the sound
When Britain's labouring sons have strip'd her fields,
And sing their harvest done. 'Tis hence each land
By mutual intercourse, commercial bond,
The wants of each supplies. What tho nor gold,
Nor diamonds flame beneath the Northern sky,
Nor trees weep odorous gums, yet think not hence
That God with thrifty hand with-holds his stores
From half his sons, and scatters o'er the rest
His partial favours. He, to rouse the mind
By deeds of bold emprize, gave to each land
Her separate blessings. Hence o'er Albion's seas
Rides the proud vessel, fraught with richest stores
Of Afric, or the new-found continent.
Even in the wilderness his hand has spread
A plenteous table; even the silent brook,
Mantled with cresses, to the poor man yields
At once his beverage sweet, and wholesome food.
Boasts the same produce. Thro wide fields of rice
Roam the parch'd hinds of India; mantling vines
Spread their soft tendrils o'er Burgundian hills.
Sweet is the fragrance which the evening breeze
From orange woods, on Lusitania's shore,
Wafts to the western waves: joyous the sound
When Britain's labouring sons have strip'd her fields,
And sing their harvest done. 'Tis hence each land
By mutual intercourse, commercial bond,
The wants of each supplies. What tho nor gold,
48
Nor trees weep odorous gums, yet think not hence
That God with thrifty hand with-holds his stores
From half his sons, and scatters o'er the rest
His partial favours. He, to rouse the mind
By deeds of bold emprize, gave to each land
Her separate blessings. Hence o'er Albion's seas
Rides the proud vessel, fraught with richest stores
Of Afric, or the new-found continent.
Even in the wilderness his hand has spread
A plenteous table; even the silent brook,
Mantled with cresses, to the poor man yields
At once his beverage sweet, and wholesome food.
But not with fruits, and wholesome food alone,
Sweet to the taste, and pleasant to the eye,
Earth's lap is fill'd: in sickness, as in health,
O'er all extends God's salutary care.
With toilsome step the peasant climbs the brow
Of some tall mountain: there with skilful hand
Culls every herb, each plant of healing power,
Steep'd in the morning dew. Where the highest sun
Darts beams direct on Lima's silver mines,
The scorch'd Peruvian from the bleeding tree
Strips medicinal bark, and o'er the wave
Sends health, sends vigour, to the distant sons
Of Britain, queen of waters. From the cave
Of hollow rock, from earth's all-teeming womb,
Bursts in full tide the life-dispensing stream,
Sulphureous, or chalybeate. Strait the bloom
Of rosy health o'erspreads the blushing cheek;
Strait the wan virgin, that thro many a year
Had pined with slow decay, again revives
To scenes of sportive mirth, and tales of love.
Sweet to the taste, and pleasant to the eye,
Earth's lap is fill'd: in sickness, as in health,
49
With toilsome step the peasant climbs the brow
Of some tall mountain: there with skilful hand
Culls every herb, each plant of healing power,
Steep'd in the morning dew. Where the highest sun
Darts beams direct on Lima's silver mines,
The scorch'd Peruvian from the bleeding tree
Strips medicinal bark, and o'er the wave
Sends health, sends vigour, to the distant sons
Of Britain, queen of waters. From the cave
Of hollow rock, from earth's all-teeming womb,
Bursts in full tide the life-dispensing stream,
Sulphureous, or chalybeate. Strait the bloom
Of rosy health o'erspreads the blushing cheek;
Strait the wan virgin, that thro many a year
Had pined with slow decay, again revives
To scenes of sportive mirth, and tales of love.
50
Hear, hear, O Heaven, and thou, O Earth, give ear,
'Tis God that speaks. ‘Yet once more will I shake
‘The land, the sea, the nations.’ Thus proclaims
The eternal King: O tremble at his voice,
Created worlds; his TRUTH shall never fail.
By him inspired the Seer survey'd the womb
Of dark futurity. The gaping croud
Stood round, and listen'd to the ecstatic strains
In blank astonishment: but ripening time
Matured each act, and gradually display'd
Scenes long foretold. Thus fell proud Babylon,
Thy scourge, O captive Israel; thus the walls
Of sea-girt Sidon; thus Phœnician Tyre;
Thus within Solyma's devoted gates
Were heard dire shrieks of horror: round her trench
Hover'd the Latian eagle; in her walls
Raged fell sedition. Famine urged to deeds
Of frantic violence: till, her temple fallen,
Her warriors slain, completed all her woes,
In the sad hour of each predicted curse
Sion, the pride of cities, Sion fell.
'Tis God that speaks. ‘Yet once more will I shake
‘The land, the sea, the nations.’ Thus proclaims
The eternal King: O tremble at his voice,
Created worlds; his TRUTH shall never fail.
By him inspired the Seer survey'd the womb
Of dark futurity. The gaping croud
Stood round, and listen'd to the ecstatic strains
In blank astonishment: but ripening time
Matured each act, and gradually display'd
Scenes long foretold. Thus fell proud Babylon,
Thy scourge, O captive Israel; thus the walls
Of sea-girt Sidon; thus Phœnician Tyre;
Thus within Solyma's devoted gates
Were heard dire shrieks of horror: round her trench
Hover'd the Latian eagle; in her walls
Raged fell sedition. Famine urged to deeds
51
Her warriors slain, completed all her woes,
In the sad hour of each predicted curse
Sion, the pride of cities, Sion fell.
Fix'd is God's throne on the adamantine base
Of JUSTICE: in his hand is pois'd the scale
That weighs his creatures, and to each awards
What each deserves. Whence then the different lot
Of man and man?—Scorch'd by the summer's heat
The panting peasant toils the tedious day,
Till, shadows length'ning from the mountain's brow,
His turf-built cot receives him: there he tears
From the reluctant ground his slender fare,
And drinks the stagnate waters of the pool.
Then on his couch of straw he sleeps till morn,
And rises to his labour. Near him stands,
Embosom'd in yon wood of tufted trees
The palace of his tyrant lord: for him
A thousand coursers neigh; o'er pastures rich
The milk-white heifers bound; the menial train
Observe his nod, and wait his high command.
Yet look once more; that peasant, hungry, poor,
Who sows, who reaps, yet tastes not of the fruit,
With conscience light, and spirits ever gay,
Hies whistling o'er the woodlands: coarse his meal;
But nature asks not better: hard his bed;
But sound his slumbers: while his pamper'd lord
Sleeps not, tho stretch'd on cygnet's down. Remorse
Drives in his mangled spirit her hooks of steel,
And each forc'd smile is clouded with despair.
Of JUSTICE: in his hand is pois'd the scale
That weighs his creatures, and to each awards
What each deserves. Whence then the different lot
Of man and man?—Scorch'd by the summer's heat
The panting peasant toils the tedious day,
Till, shadows length'ning from the mountain's brow,
His turf-built cot receives him: there he tears
From the reluctant ground his slender fare,
And drinks the stagnate waters of the pool.
Then on his couch of straw he sleeps till morn,
And rises to his labour. Near him stands,
52
The palace of his tyrant lord: for him
A thousand coursers neigh; o'er pastures rich
The milk-white heifers bound; the menial train
Observe his nod, and wait his high command.
Yet look once more; that peasant, hungry, poor,
Who sows, who reaps, yet tastes not of the fruit,
With conscience light, and spirits ever gay,
Hies whistling o'er the woodlands: coarse his meal;
But nature asks not better: hard his bed;
But sound his slumbers: while his pamper'd lord
Sleeps not, tho stretch'd on cygnet's down. Remorse
Drives in his mangled spirit her hooks of steel,
And each forc'd smile is clouded with despair.
Yet some there are, whose unrelenting souls
The stings of conscience wound not: On they go
Thro life's gay flowery path, nor heave one sigh,
The tribute to their own, or others' woe.
Secure they riot in the pride of health,
And bathe in golden streams. Such once was He,
To sate whose palate ocean pour'd his stores,
And earth unlock'd her caves: in thankless ease
He lived, he died; nor lifted once a prayer
To Him, the giver of all. With upcast eyes
And folded hands, still patient tho in pain,
Fast by the barr'd inhospitable gate
Sat pining Lazarus; he sat, and ask'd
In the meek tone of modest poverty,
The humble pittance of some broken meal,
The refuse of his board, but ask'd in vain.
Nor all his piercing cries, nor bleeding wounds,
Nor famine, staring thro his haggard eyes,
Could melt the spirit of obdurate pride;
He died unpitied. Where was JUSTICE then?
Slept she? or did the scabbard hide her sword,
Canker'd with rust? Yet, sceptic, pause awhile;
Arraign not heaven's decrees; the scene is chang'd.
See'st thou that horrid dungeon drear, and dark,
Whence pestilential vapours taint the air,
And livid flames ascend? See, there he lies,
Writhing in agonies, and parch'd with fire;
See there he lies, that rudely from his gate
Push'd the poor pathless wanderer. He the while
Wafted to realms of bliss on angel's wing
Looks down, and drops a tear. Yea, mighty Lord,
Just are thy works, and righteous all thy ways.
The stings of conscience wound not: On they go
53
The tribute to their own, or others' woe.
Secure they riot in the pride of health,
And bathe in golden streams. Such once was He,
To sate whose palate ocean pour'd his stores,
And earth unlock'd her caves: in thankless ease
He lived, he died; nor lifted once a prayer
To Him, the giver of all. With upcast eyes
And folded hands, still patient tho in pain,
Fast by the barr'd inhospitable gate
Sat pining Lazarus; he sat, and ask'd
In the meek tone of modest poverty,
The humble pittance of some broken meal,
The refuse of his board, but ask'd in vain.
Nor all his piercing cries, nor bleeding wounds,
Nor famine, staring thro his haggard eyes,
54
He died unpitied. Where was JUSTICE then?
Slept she? or did the scabbard hide her sword,
Canker'd with rust? Yet, sceptic, pause awhile;
Arraign not heaven's decrees; the scene is chang'd.
See'st thou that horrid dungeon drear, and dark,
Whence pestilential vapours taint the air,
And livid flames ascend? See, there he lies,
Writhing in agonies, and parch'd with fire;
See there he lies, that rudely from his gate
Push'd the poor pathless wanderer. He the while
Wafted to realms of bliss on angel's wing
Looks down, and drops a tear. Yea, mighty Lord,
Just are thy works, and righteous all thy ways.
The day will come, when each shall meet his doom:
But who shall stand its coming? Virtue's self
Shall shrink appall'd, and tremble at the frown
Of all-consuming Justice. Still remains
The last, the only refuge. Near the throne
Of God stands MERCY. She on bended knee,
With outstretch'd hand, averts the vengeful sword
Of Justice, rais'd to strike. The King of heaven
Beholds her, and approves. He bids her rise;
Wipes from her eye the sympathetic tear,
And owns her powerful influence. Soft the dew
That evening sheds on Hermon, favour'd hill;
Soft are the strains, when Pity sooths Despair;
Yet softer, Lord, thy mercy. But in vain;
Stern Justice claims her due: the word was past
Irrevocable: the high behest was given:
Man fell, and Man must suffer. Who, oh! who
Shall interpose? What sacrifice shall bleed?
For sin so foul what victim shall atone?
If none, then all is lost.
But who shall stand its coming? Virtue's self
55
Of all-consuming Justice. Still remains
The last, the only refuge. Near the throne
Of God stands MERCY. She on bended knee,
With outstretch'd hand, averts the vengeful sword
Of Justice, rais'd to strike. The King of heaven
Beholds her, and approves. He bids her rise;
Wipes from her eye the sympathetic tear,
And owns her powerful influence. Soft the dew
That evening sheds on Hermon, favour'd hill;
Soft are the strains, when Pity sooths Despair;
Yet softer, Lord, thy mercy. But in vain;
Stern Justice claims her due: the word was past
Irrevocable: the high behest was given:
Man fell, and Man must suffer. Who, oh! who
Shall interpose? What sacrifice shall bleed?
56
If none, then all is lost.
‘On me, on me,’
Exclaim'd the son of God, ‘on me alone
‘Let all thy wrath be pour'd: theirs was the offence,
‘Be mine the punishment.’ He spake, and left
The golden city's hyacinthine walls;
And thro the middle of the eastern gates,
Hewn from one solid emerald, as he pass'd,
The Angel bow'd obeisance. Earth receiv'd
Her gracious visitant. By him subdued
Legions of spirits accurs'd their mangled prey
Reluctant quitted, and with horrid yell
Howl'd hideous: touch'd by him the palsied hand,
Long wither'd, felt his genial warmth return,
Circling thro every vein. He spake, and strait
From the thick film was purg'd the visual ray.
Aw'd by his potent word, the grave op'd wide
His marble jaws, and yielded back to life
His putrid dead. But what could all avail?
Insulted, scorn'd, betray'd by those he lov'd,
He fell. Yet bleeding on the accursed tree,
While the last breath hung quivering on his lips,
His Mercy still endured. Towards heaven he cast
The last faint glances of his closing eye,
Forgive them, O forgive—He bow'd, and died.
Exclaim'd the son of God, ‘on me alone
‘Let all thy wrath be pour'd: theirs was the offence,
‘Be mine the punishment.’ He spake, and left
The golden city's hyacinthine walls;
And thro the middle of the eastern gates,
Hewn from one solid emerald, as he pass'd,
The Angel bow'd obeisance. Earth receiv'd
Her gracious visitant. By him subdued
Legions of spirits accurs'd their mangled prey
Reluctant quitted, and with horrid yell
Howl'd hideous: touch'd by him the palsied hand,
Long wither'd, felt his genial warmth return,
57
From the thick film was purg'd the visual ray.
Aw'd by his potent word, the grave op'd wide
His marble jaws, and yielded back to life
His putrid dead. But what could all avail?
Insulted, scorn'd, betray'd by those he lov'd,
He fell. Yet bleeding on the accursed tree,
While the last breath hung quivering on his lips,
His Mercy still endured. Towards heaven he cast
The last faint glances of his closing eye,
Forgive them, O forgive—He bow'd, and died.
59
III. PART III.
Αλληλουα: οτι ΕΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣΕ Κυριος ο Θεος ο παντοκρατωρ.
61
ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD PART.
Epicurus denies the Providence of God in the government of the world.—The opinion of some other ancient Philosophers on that subject.—The Providence of God proved, 1st, from the regular motion of the heavenly bodies—the fatal consequence of any change in that system—2dly, from the Atmosphere —3dly, from the revival of every thing after Winter—preceded by a description of Winter.—The impossibility of vegetation, &c. being restored by Chance—4thly, from the propagation of animals, exemplified in birds, beasts, insects.—The Calamities, to which the human race is exposed, would be destructive of the species, without the intervention of Providence—instanced in Diseases—Pestilence—Famine —War—which introduces the 5th proof of God's Providence in repairing this havock—by the propagation—by the preservation of Man.—The consideration of God's preserving Providence, matter of comfort to Men under the severest, afflictions.—Impossible to judge of the whole scheme of God's moral Providence from a partial view of it.—The Conquests of the Romans an instance of God's Providence, who made use of them as instruments, to prepare Mankind for the reception of Christianity.—The Gift of Tongues—the Propagation of the Gospel—the declension of it, where it formerly flourished—parts of God's plan of Government—A particular Providence asserted—exhibited in a more visible manner in the preservation of Empires—in none more than that of Britain.
63
‘Deep in the Olympian vales, and far retired
‘From mortal, or immortal, where the voice
‘Of prayer is never heard, nor rolls one cloud
‘Of fragrant incense, sits the placid God,
‘Or stretch'd on Amaranthine beds, dissolves
‘In peaceful slumber; there, if haply rous'd
‘By roaring whirlwind, or the thunder's peal,
‘Wakes to ambrosial banquets, quaffs the bowl
‘Of nectar, beverage sweet, press'd from the fruit
‘Of those unfading trees, that mantle round
‘Heaven's sloping hills, then sinks to rest again,
‘Wrapt in the folds of sleep: For sleep is ease;
‘And ease is happiness. To wing the storm,
‘To point the bolt of vengeance, still to sit
‘With vigilant eye, lest fraud, or force assail,
‘Is this the task of Gods? are these the joys
‘Which death shall never end? then happier they,
‘Heirs of an hour, who fall to rise no more.’
‘From mortal, or immortal, where the voice
‘Of prayer is never heard, nor rolls one cloud
‘Of fragrant incense, sits the placid God,
‘Or stretch'd on Amaranthine beds, dissolves
64
‘By roaring whirlwind, or the thunder's peal,
‘Wakes to ambrosial banquets, quaffs the bowl
‘Of nectar, beverage sweet, press'd from the fruit
‘Of those unfading trees, that mantle round
‘Heaven's sloping hills, then sinks to rest again,
‘Wrapt in the folds of sleep: For sleep is ease;
‘And ease is happiness. To wing the storm,
‘To point the bolt of vengeance, still to sit
‘With vigilant eye, lest fraud, or force assail,
‘Is this the task of Gods? are these the joys
‘Which death shall never end? then happier they,
‘Heirs of an hour, who fall to rise no more.’
Thus spake the Athenian; he who taught, that Chance,
Scattering her random atoms thro' the void,
Compos'd this wond'rous Whole. Vain Sage! can Gods
Delight in apathy, or sensual bliss,
Contented even to be? O happier far,
O far more glorious, o'er the sons of earth,
O'er all the tenants of a thousand worlds
To pour fresh blessings; to create, preserve,
To govern with impartial sway; to check
With deserv'd chastisement the lawless acts
Of violence, of oppression; and to wreathe
Bright flaming crowns of vegetable gold,
The guerdon fair of virtue's patient toil!
Scattering her random atoms thro' the void,
Compos'd this wond'rous Whole. Vain Sage! can Gods
65
Contented even to be? O happier far,
O far more glorious, o'er the sons of earth,
O'er all the tenants of a thousand worlds
To pour fresh blessings; to create, preserve,
To govern with impartial sway; to check
With deserv'd chastisement the lawless acts
Of violence, of oppression; and to wreathe
Bright flaming crowns of vegetable gold,
The guerdon fair of virtue's patient toil!
Canst thou, convinc'd that Deities exist,
Canst thou deny their Providence? Go then,
Ask the Milesian, if the darkest deed
That ever Night wrapt in her sable veil;
Ask, if the dawning of the simplest thought,
Escape that Ancient of eternal days,
The unbegotten God? Ask of the sage,
On whose soft lips Hymettian bees distill'd
Their choicest honey, if that subtle Spirit,
Which animates the living Universe,
Neglect the race of man? Go to the Porch,
Enquire of Zeno's sons, whether that globe,
Which, all its moisture lost, shall blaze with fire,
Rolls thro' the circumambient Void, as blows
Some casual blast, or hears that
plastic Mind
Which made, which moves, which rules the united frame?
Canst thou deny their Providence? Go then,
Ask the Milesian, if the darkest deed
66
Ask, if the dawning of the simplest thought,
Escape that Ancient of eternal days,
The unbegotten God? Ask of the sage,
On whose soft lips Hymettian bees distill'd
Their choicest honey, if that subtle Spirit,
Which animates the living Universe,
Neglect the race of man? Go to the Porch,
Enquire of Zeno's sons, whether that globe,
Which, all its moisture lost, shall blaze with fire,
Rolls thro' the circumambient Void, as blows
67
Which made, which moves, which rules the united frame?
There are, who say, that natural causes act
By general laws; that he, who form'd this whole,
Stamp'd matter inert with such inherent powers,
That tho in essence passive, yet impell'd
By this original force, it still moves on
Unalter'd, unimpair'd: that not a cloud
Sails o'er the blue serene, that not a flash
Bursts from the cleft horizon, but receiv'd
Its special mandate, ere bright Hesper rear'd
His evening torch, or spheres began to roll.
By general laws; that he, who form'd this whole,
Stamp'd matter inert with such inherent powers,
That tho in essence passive, yet impell'd
By this original force, it still moves on
Unalter'd, unimpair'd: that not a cloud
Sails o'er the blue serene, that not a flash
Bursts from the cleft horizon, but receiv'd
Its special mandate, ere bright Hesper rear'd
His evening torch, or spheres began to roll.
68
There are again, who think that every wheel,
Whose motion speeds thro space this vast machine,
Is still adjusted, as occasion calls,
By God's directing hand.—His care appears
Alike conspicuous, whether from the first
He framed this All, that not a part should need
His interposing power; or whether yet
Orb within orb he guards, lest haply one,
Lawless may deviate from its proper path,
Extravagant. Then fatal were the shock
Of disuniting elements; the world,
Tho now fast bound by gravitation's chain,
Would burst, and anarchy again return.
Whose motion speeds thro space this vast machine,
Is still adjusted, as occasion calls,
By God's directing hand.—His care appears
Alike conspicuous, whether from the first
He framed this All, that not a part should need
His interposing power; or whether yet
Orb within orb he guards, lest haply one,
Lawless may deviate from its proper path,
Extravagant. Then fatal were the shock
Of disuniting elements; the world,
Tho now fast bound by gravitation's chain,
Would burst, and anarchy again return.
Behold yon Sun, thron'd in meridian height,
Fountain of fire, round which six wandering stars
For ever roll, and eager to approach
With force centripetal, due distance keep,
By adverse force restrain'd: quench but that light,
And universal darkness shall involve
Creation's wide domain. Tho now their times,
Their rounds ordain'd those planets all absolve,
Check, or accelerate their speed, the sun
Will steep them in a lake of liquid fire,
Or madly they will stray exorbitate
Beyond the zone of Saturn. Ill, O earth,
Ill would it fare with thee: thy fruits, thy flowers,
And all that vegetates, and all that lives,
One petrifying blast would smite to the root,
And seas, that roll beneath solstitial heat,
Freeze to their center. See'st thou near the Bear,
Or in the Galaxy, fast by the crown
Of Cepheus, scepter'd king, with streaming light,
That sweeps meteorous half the space of heaven,
Yon roving comet? let him shoot transverse,
Thwarting the Ecliptic, where the convex globe
Rolls in her annual course, earth, air, and seas
Will blaze in dire combustion: Is it Chance
That curbs his speed, and tells him where to roll?
O, no; the expanse of heaven God's praise proclaims,
The firmament his power: day tells to day,
And night to night, his providential care.
Fountain of fire, round which six wandering stars
For ever roll, and eager to approach
69
By adverse force restrain'd: quench but that light,
And universal darkness shall involve
Creation's wide domain. Tho now their times,
Their rounds ordain'd those planets all absolve,
Check, or accelerate their speed, the sun
Will steep them in a lake of liquid fire,
Or madly they will stray exorbitate
Beyond the zone of Saturn. Ill, O earth,
Ill would it fare with thee: thy fruits, thy flowers,
And all that vegetates, and all that lives,
One petrifying blast would smite to the root,
And seas, that roll beneath solstitial heat,
Freeze to their center. See'st thou near the Bear,
Or in the Galaxy, fast by the crown
Of Cepheus, scepter'd king, with streaming light,
70
Yon roving comet? let him shoot transverse,
Thwarting the Ecliptic, where the convex globe
Rolls in her annual course, earth, air, and seas
Will blaze in dire combustion: Is it Chance
That curbs his speed, and tells him where to roll?
O, no; the expanse of heaven God's praise proclaims,
The firmament his power: day tells to day,
And night to night, his providential care.
Above, around, the ambient air is spread,
Dense, or of rarer texture: thro each pore
The elastic fluid wins his easy way,
Invisible: change but the incumbent weight,
Expand it, or compress it, less, or more,
What then, or who shall breathe? Behold the Moon;
Nor cloud, nor rain, her atmosphere deforms;
Nor misty fog, save such as nightly rise
From this dank globe, obscure from mortal eye
Her vales, and lofty mountains. Give but earth
That uniform serene, and all that moves
Shall sink annihilate. Exhalations rise,
Nor dewy vapours hover round in vain;
Hence life to beast, to man: 'tis God commands,
And storms, and raging winds, his word obey.
Dense, or of rarer texture: thro each pore
The elastic fluid wins his easy way,
Invisible: change but the incumbent weight,
Expand it, or compress it, less, or more,
What then, or who shall breathe? Behold the Moon;
Nor cloud, nor rain, her atmosphere deforms;
71
From this dank globe, obscure from mortal eye
Her vales, and lofty mountains. Give but earth
That uniform serene, and all that moves
Shall sink annihilate. Exhalations rise,
Nor dewy vapours hover round in vain;
Hence life to beast, to man: 'tis God commands,
And storms, and raging winds, his word obey.
Stern winter chills the world. From snow-top'd hills,
Hæmo and Rhodopè, the sharp North blows,
And drives the naked Thracian to his cave.
Or from those rocks of thick-rib'd ice, where roams
The shivering Savoyard, with intenser cold
Sweeps o'er Grenoble's champain to the streams
Of Isere, and the Rhone. Now to his sledge,
Where Lapland confines on the Chronian main,
The blighted native yokes his rein-deers; they
O'er many a league of snow run panting on
From Kola to Warsuga. To the wind
The crackling forest roars: the leafless elm
Spreads o'er the frozen stream her bare broad arms;
And that tall oak, which on the mountain's brow
Three hundred summers stood, beneath whose shade
Fathers, and sons, had led the rustic dance,
Falls ponderous down the riven precipice,
Uptorn. Returning from the Bothnian gulph
The sailor in the horizon's utmost verge
Oft spied her top rejoicing; on the helm,
‘Britain,’ the pilot with loud shout exclaim'd,
And, ‘Britain,’ all the exulting crew replied.
Hæmo and Rhodopè, the sharp North blows,
And drives the naked Thracian to his cave.
Or from those rocks of thick-rib'd ice, where roams
The shivering Savoyard, with intenser cold
Sweeps o'er Grenoble's champain to the streams
Of Isere, and the Rhone. Now to his sledge,
Where Lapland confines on the Chronian main,
72
O'er many a league of snow run panting on
From Kola to Warsuga. To the wind
The crackling forest roars: the leafless elm
Spreads o'er the frozen stream her bare broad arms;
And that tall oak, which on the mountain's brow
Three hundred summers stood, beneath whose shade
Fathers, and sons, had led the rustic dance,
Falls ponderous down the riven precipice,
Uptorn. Returning from the Bothnian gulph
The sailor in the horizon's utmost verge
Oft spied her top rejoicing; on the helm,
‘Britain,’ the pilot with loud shout exclaim'd,
And, ‘Britain,’ all the exulting crew replied.
Shall Nature's chearful face no more be seen?
Shall frost eternal bind the barren earth,
And mock the toil of man? or shall blind Chance
Call from the teeming soil, fruit, herb, and all
Her vegetable stores? The putrid clod
Now softens by mild Zephyr's tepid breath,
And down from hoary hills the melted snow
Falls in far-sounding cataracts. The blade
Shoots thro the loosen'd glebe: on the soft green,
Aching from desolation's ravag'd scenes,
The wearied eye reposes. O'er the main,
Lured by the genial breeze, the feather'd tribe,
That fled for shelter to a milder sky,
Return spontaneous. Now thro every grove
They chaunt their nuptial song, and in the depth
Of some close-tangled brake, or on the side
Of coving cornice, or beneath the tile,
Safe from the dropping eaves, suspend their nest,
Ingenious artists. Could the dainty hand
Of her, inventress of mechanic powers,
Minerva, or Cecropian Pallas nam'd,
Vie with these heaven-taught architects? With wool,
And twisted hair, some line their downy beds,
And weave their walls with moss: others with clay,
More hardy, pave the floor, and fence the sides
With platted twigs; while birds of smaller wing
Arch o'er their heads a pendant roof, to save
Their unfledg'd brood, which ill could bear the damp
Of April's chilling showers. These all obey
God's first command, Increase and multiply;
These for their new-hatch'd offspring, or from plain,
Or pathless wood, or from the sedgy side
Of stagnate pool, select their slimy food:
All but the Ostrich: she, poor thoughtless bird,
Leaves her neglected eggs, nor recks it her
Tho some deep-laden camel, or the foot
Of casual pilgrim crush them. Yet even these
Not unregarded lie: the genial sun
With rays prolific warms them, till the birds
Burst from their shell, and soon outstrip the course
Of swiftest Arab on his fiery steed.
Shall frost eternal bind the barren earth,
73
Call from the teeming soil, fruit, herb, and all
Her vegetable stores? The putrid clod
Now softens by mild Zephyr's tepid breath,
And down from hoary hills the melted snow
Falls in far-sounding cataracts. The blade
Shoots thro the loosen'd glebe: on the soft green,
Aching from desolation's ravag'd scenes,
The wearied eye reposes. O'er the main,
Lured by the genial breeze, the feather'd tribe,
That fled for shelter to a milder sky,
Return spontaneous. Now thro every grove
They chaunt their nuptial song, and in the depth
Of some close-tangled brake, or on the side
Of coving cornice, or beneath the tile,
74
Ingenious artists. Could the dainty hand
Of her, inventress of mechanic powers,
Minerva, or Cecropian Pallas nam'd,
Vie with these heaven-taught architects? With wool,
And twisted hair, some line their downy beds,
And weave their walls with moss: others with clay,
More hardy, pave the floor, and fence the sides
With platted twigs; while birds of smaller wing
Arch o'er their heads a pendant roof, to save
Their unfledg'd brood, which ill could bear the damp
Of April's chilling showers. These all obey
God's first command, Increase and multiply;
These for their new-hatch'd offspring, or from plain,
Or pathless wood, or from the sedgy side
75
All but the Ostrich: she, poor thoughtless bird,
Leaves her neglected eggs, nor recks it her
Tho some deep-laden camel, or the foot
Of casual pilgrim crush them. Yet even these
Not unregarded lie: the genial sun
With rays prolific warms them, till the birds
Burst from their shell, and soon outstrip the course
Of swiftest Arab on his fiery steed.
Behold the swarms that wing the liquid air,
Or people the green mead! The niggard ant,
Sagacious insect; the slow-creeping snail,
That bears her ponderous house from bough to bough,
The loyal bee, the spider, that beneath
Some lonely rafter weaves her fine-spun woof,
And millions more, that in this ample world
Unnotic'd and unnamed claims each his place,
God's general plan fulfil. By him impell'd
They propagate their stock; by his command
They drive each bold invader from their young,
Arm'd with new courage by parental fear.
Or people the green mead! The niggard ant,
Sagacious insect; the slow-creeping snail,
That bears her ponderous house from bough to bough,
The loyal bee, the spider, that beneath
Some lonely rafter weaves her fine-spun woof,
76
Unnotic'd and unnamed claims each his place,
God's general plan fulfil. By him impell'd
They propagate their stock; by his command
They drive each bold invader from their young,
Arm'd with new courage by parental fear.
But who, O Man, who shall preserve thy kind?
From Plague, from Famine, from the avenging Sword,
What shall protect thy race? Shall active Chance
Repair the breaches of devouring war?
Shall Chance supply fresh stores to propagate
Successive generations? With the feast,
Where riots jocund youth, Intemperance
Mixes his subtle poison. In the blood,
Till waken'd by maturing time, the seeds
Of many a mischief sleep; and from the sire,
With life imparted, to the son descend,
Fatal inheritance! joint-racking gout,
Consumption, cankering on the virgin's cheek,
And moping melancholy, and frantic rage,
That spurns controuling reason: and what else
From accident on flood, or tented field,
Severs the mangled limbs. But who shall count
The corses, reeking to the putrid air,
When born on Auster's wing the pestilence
Visits afflicted nations? Such as once
When the destroying Angel smote the tribes
Of humbled Israël, what time Jesse's son
From Ascalon to Gilead, from the mount
Of northern Lebanon to the Asphaltic lake,
Number'd his populous hosts. Such too the scene,
When Lacedæmon pour'd her hardy troops
O'er mourning Attica. Such in thy streets,
Augusta, Britain's pride, the shrieks of woe,
When thy dead citizens strew'd every path,
An undistinguish'd heap: the famish'd hounds
Bark'd distant; and the hungry birds of prey
Fled screaming to the woods for purer air.
From Plague, from Famine, from the avenging Sword,
What shall protect thy race? Shall active Chance
Repair the breaches of devouring war?
Shall Chance supply fresh stores to propagate
Successive generations? With the feast,
Where riots jocund youth, Intemperance
Mixes his subtle poison. In the blood,
Till waken'd by maturing time, the seeds
Of many a mischief sleep; and from the sire,
77
Fatal inheritance! joint-racking gout,
Consumption, cankering on the virgin's cheek,
And moping melancholy, and frantic rage,
That spurns controuling reason: and what else
From accident on flood, or tented field,
Severs the mangled limbs. But who shall count
The corses, reeking to the putrid air,
When born on Auster's wing the pestilence
Visits afflicted nations? Such as once
When the destroying Angel smote the tribes
Of humbled Israël, what time Jesse's son
From Ascalon to Gilead, from the mount
Of northern Lebanon to the Asphaltic lake,
Number'd his populous hosts. Such too the scene,
When Lacedæmon pour'd her hardy troops
78
Augusta, Britain's pride, the shrieks of woe,
When thy dead citizens strew'd every path,
An undistinguish'd heap: the famish'd hounds
Bark'd distant; and the hungry birds of prey
Fled screaming to the woods for purer air.
Nor these alone the dangers, that beset
The mortal pilgrim, wandering thro the vale
Of tears, and pain, and sorrow, yet upheld
By that invisible hand, which still supports
Man's feeble race, and from extinction saves
His undiminish'd progeny: for see
The fruits are blasted in their bud; the boughs
Droop with their sickly leaves; the barren earth,
Impenetrable by sun, or softest shower,
Hoards all her stores: as when the Ægyptian dearth,
Reveal'd by two prophetic visions, spread
To Beërsheba from the land of Nile,
And the great Patriarch, with all his tribes,
Settled in Rameses. Nor less the grief,
When by the brook of Cherith ravens fed
The wandering seer, till in Sarepta's walls
He found the cruise of never-wasting oil,
Shelter'd beneath the hospitable roof
Of that Sidonian, who for his repast
Pour'd forth with liberal hand her scanty stores.
The mortal pilgrim, wandering thro the vale
Of tears, and pain, and sorrow, yet upheld
By that invisible hand, which still supports
Man's feeble race, and from extinction saves
His undiminish'd progeny: for see
The fruits are blasted in their bud; the boughs
Droop with their sickly leaves; the barren earth,
Impenetrable by sun, or softest shower,
Hoards all her stores: as when the Ægyptian dearth,
79
To Beërsheba from the land of Nile,
And the great Patriarch, with all his tribes,
Settled in Rameses. Nor less the grief,
When by the brook of Cherith ravens fed
The wandering seer, till in Sarepta's walls
He found the cruise of never-wasting oil,
Shelter'd beneath the hospitable roof
Of that Sidonian, who for his repast
Pour'd forth with liberal hand her scanty stores.
But who, oh who, shall the dread landscape paint
Of desolation, when the lawless sons
Of war come pouring o'er the cultur'd plains,
Tartar or Cossac, and in one short hour
Confound the toil of ages? Now the din
Of clashing armour, helm and plated mail,
Is heard no more; but engines fraught with fire
Sweep o'er the field whole legions! Now, even now,
From North to South, to Marmora's white cliffs
Convuls'd Europa from the Baltic shakes
Thro all her kingdoms. In the crouded streets
Of sad Byzantium to each mosque repairs
The turban'd multitude, and every dome
Re-ecchoes ‘Allah, Allah!’ Now prepares
The vengeful Spaniard yet again to rouse
The sleeping rage of Britain, and renew
War's bloody business. But, great Lord of hosts,
And thou, O blessed messenger of peace,
Knap every spear in twain, and fill their souls
With mild benevolence, and social love!
Of desolation, when the lawless sons
Of war come pouring o'er the cultur'd plains,
Tartar or Cossac, and in one short hour
Confound the toil of ages? Now the din
Of clashing armour, helm and plated mail,
80
Sweep o'er the field whole legions! Now, even now,
From North to South, to Marmora's white cliffs
Convuls'd Europa from the Baltic shakes
Thro all her kingdoms. In the crouded streets
Of sad Byzantium to each mosque repairs
The turban'd multitude, and every dome
Re-ecchoes ‘Allah, Allah!’ Now prepares
The vengeful Spaniard yet again to rouse
The sleeping rage of Britain, and renew
War's bloody business. But, great Lord of hosts,
And thou, O blessed messenger of peace,
Knap every spear in twain, and fill their souls
With mild benevolence, and social love!
81
He, mighty God, whose providential eye
Looks down upon the meanest of his works,
'Midst every natural, every moral ill,
Preserves the human race. He sows the seeds
Of charity, that melts the obdurate soul;
He draws by secret cords the ductile heart
Of sex to sex. When now the purple glow
Spreads o'er the virgin's cheek, for some soft youth
She sighs in secret; all the tender names
Of mother, and of sister, please no more:
On him her hopes are fix'd; with him she longs
To travel hand in hand down life's steep vale,
And share with him health, sickness, bliss, or woe.
O happy they, whom tenderest love unites
In bonds connubial, where each thought is spelt,
Each wish prevented, and each glance explain'd!
But lawless lust has quench'd the nuptial torch
In discord's bitter streams. The impatient dame
Beholds her Lord with alienated eye,
Smiles at the scoffs of fame, and quits her house,
Her babes, without a blush, without a tear.
Looks down upon the meanest of his works,
'Midst every natural, every moral ill,
Preserves the human race. He sows the seeds
Of charity, that melts the obdurate soul;
He draws by secret cords the ductile heart
Of sex to sex. When now the purple glow
Spreads o'er the virgin's cheek, for some soft youth
She sighs in secret; all the tender names
Of mother, and of sister, please no more:
On him her hopes are fix'd; with him she longs
To travel hand in hand down life's steep vale,
And share with him health, sickness, bliss, or woe.
O happy they, whom tenderest love unites
In bonds connubial, where each thought is spelt,
Each wish prevented, and each glance explain'd!
82
In discord's bitter streams. The impatient dame
Beholds her Lord with alienated eye,
Smiles at the scoffs of fame, and quits her house,
Her babes, without a blush, without a tear.
But what avails to propagate the race,
If none preserve? Say, can the new-born child
By reason, or by strength, direct his way.
While weak the tottering body, while the mind,
With not a character engrav'd, presents
One universal blank? Yet then thy hand,
Great God, supports his steps, and guides his feet.
Vain else were human skill; vain all the care
Of the fond mother, who with downcast eye,
And smiles of tenderest love, bends o'er her babe,
Whispering low strains that lull to soft repose.
If none preserve? Say, can the new-born child
By reason, or by strength, direct his way.
While weak the tottering body, while the mind,
With not a character engrav'd, presents
One universal blank? Yet then thy hand,
Great God, supports his steps, and guides his feet.
Vain else were human skill; vain all the care
Of the fond mother, who with downcast eye,
And smiles of tenderest love, bends o'er her babe,
Whispering low strains that lull to soft repose.
83
Thus he who made, preserves: the common sire
Of all, for all provides. What tho the fig
Fall unconcocted from the blasted bough,
Tho sweltering Sirius scatter thro the land
Disease, and rank contagion; tho the din
Of war ring dreadful on the clanging shield,
Still thou rejoice, O Man: thy Maker reigns.
Of all, for all provides. What tho the fig
Fall unconcocted from the blasted bough,
Tho sweltering Sirius scatter thro the land
Disease, and rank contagion; tho the din
Of war ring dreadful on the clanging shield,
Still thou rejoice, O Man: thy Maker reigns.
And yet, mysterious are the ways of heaven:
God's counsels dark. He, thro a regular maze
Of causes, all connected, tho unseen,
Conducts each great event. From age to age
By slow gradation imperceptible
It still advances; till arrived at last
To full perfection, it displays the depth
Of that unfathom'd wisdom, which contriv'd,
That Providence, which, watching every step,
Finish'd the wond'rous plan. The sons of men,
Whose puny generations pass away
In quick succession, and fill up the time
'Twixt the commencement, and the accomplish'd end,
See but one link of that stupendous chain,
And wonder what supports it; but at length,
The whole compleat, each well-adapted part,
Each nice dependence, each connection just,
Appears in full proportion, and broad light.
God's counsels dark. He, thro a regular maze
Of causes, all connected, tho unseen,
Conducts each great event. From age to age
By slow gradation imperceptible
It still advances; till arrived at last
To full perfection, it displays the depth
Of that unfathom'd wisdom, which contriv'd,
That Providence, which, watching every step,
84
Whose puny generations pass away
In quick succession, and fill up the time
'Twixt the commencement, and the accomplish'd end,
See but one link of that stupendous chain,
And wonder what supports it; but at length,
The whole compleat, each well-adapted part,
Each nice dependence, each connection just,
Appears in full proportion, and broad light.
What means Quirinus? Shall those lowly huts
Change to imperial towers? Those vagrant clans,
The shame, the refuse, of each nation round,
To conquerors of the world? Vain thought! and yet
So wills the King supreme. The Gabian yields,
The Tuscan falls, the Sabine joins his powers,
And even from Arno to Tarento's gulph
All Italy obeys. Yet what avails?
Beyond the confines of the middle sea
Nations remain unconquer'd. Spread the sails:
Stretch to the Libyan shore; great Carthage there,
Skill'd in commercial arts, and bold in war,
Defies thy threats; great Carthage falls. And now
The towering Eagle o'er Numidia's sands,
O'er Ægypt's fertile fields, o'er Persia's sea,
To Indus, and to Ganges bends his flight.
Thence, to north-west, thro Edom's palmy groves,
He circles all the Levant coast, and o'er
The Ægean waves, from lesser Asia's hills,
O'er Greece, o'er Thrace, and humbled Macedon,
Directs his airy path, and, as he flies,
Bids every vanquish'd nation bend the knee
To Rome's majestic tyrant. Science too
Darted her bright beams on the Latian towers,
And with soft manners humanized the soul.
'Twas hence to many a savage lawless horde
The generous conqueror gave the refin'd arts
Of social life, and taught them what the rights
Of civil polity, the charities
Of sweet domestic union. Thus compact
In one great empire, bound by every tie
Of fear, of love, of mutual interest,
The kingdoms bow'd to Rome, But whence, O whence,
This grandeur, such as ne'er before was known
In Babylon, or Niniveh's proud walls,
Names fam'd of old? Say, were these mighty deeds,
Unparallel'd even in romantic tale,
The genuine fruits of more than mortal strength?
Or was it He, the Capitolian Jove,
To whom thine incense smoked, that bound thy spear
With victory's green palm, and bade thee lead
Reluctant monarchs up the sacred hill,
To grace thy pompous triumph? Roman, no;
That idol, which thy superstitious soul
Fear'd and adored; that idol, which thine hand
Hew'd from rough stone, or cast in fusile gold,
Had ears, but heard not; nor could all thy force
Have rear'd that column of imperial power,
But that the God, who moulds the ductile heart,
And sways man's will, to his own glory turn'd
Thy pride, thy martial rage: He chose thee out,
An instrument most apt, to execute
His gracious purpose, and with all thy states,
With all thy tributary thrones, receive
The messenger divine of peace and love.
Change to imperial towers? Those vagrant clans,
The shame, the refuse, of each nation round,
To conquerors of the world? Vain thought! and yet
So wills the King supreme. The Gabian yields,
The Tuscan falls, the Sabine joins his powers,
And even from Arno to Tarento's gulph
85
Beyond the confines of the middle sea
Nations remain unconquer'd. Spread the sails:
Stretch to the Libyan shore; great Carthage there,
Skill'd in commercial arts, and bold in war,
Defies thy threats; great Carthage falls. And now
The towering Eagle o'er Numidia's sands,
O'er Ægypt's fertile fields, o'er Persia's sea,
To Indus, and to Ganges bends his flight.
Thence, to north-west, thro Edom's palmy groves,
He circles all the Levant coast, and o'er
The Ægean waves, from lesser Asia's hills,
O'er Greece, o'er Thrace, and humbled Macedon,
Directs his airy path, and, as he flies,
Bids every vanquish'd nation bend the knee
To Rome's majestic tyrant. Science too
86
And with soft manners humanized the soul.
'Twas hence to many a savage lawless horde
The generous conqueror gave the refin'd arts
Of social life, and taught them what the rights
Of civil polity, the charities
Of sweet domestic union. Thus compact
In one great empire, bound by every tie
Of fear, of love, of mutual interest,
The kingdoms bow'd to Rome, But whence, O whence,
This grandeur, such as ne'er before was known
In Babylon, or Niniveh's proud walls,
Names fam'd of old? Say, were these mighty deeds,
Unparallel'd even in romantic tale,
The genuine fruits of more than mortal strength?
Or was it He, the Capitolian Jove,
87
With victory's green palm, and bade thee lead
Reluctant monarchs up the sacred hill,
To grace thy pompous triumph? Roman, no;
That idol, which thy superstitious soul
Fear'd and adored; that idol, which thine hand
Hew'd from rough stone, or cast in fusile gold,
Had ears, but heard not; nor could all thy force
Have rear'd that column of imperial power,
But that the God, who moulds the ductile heart,
And sways man's will, to his own glory turn'd
Thy pride, thy martial rage: He chose thee out,
An instrument most apt, to execute
His gracious purpose, and with all thy states,
With all thy tributary thrones, receive
The messenger divine of peace and love.
88
He came; the wond'rous story soon was known
In every nation, and in every clime,
Where Rome had rais'd her banner. Hark! what means
That roaring sound? Was it a northern blast
Rushing impetuous from his seven-mouth'd cave?
No; 'twas the Spirit spake; it was the voice
Of inspiration. There the faithful sat,
Waiting their promised Comforter; when each
Unpractis'd in a foreign phrase, at once
Spake every language; nor in accent strange,
And dialect uncouth, as one who first
Holds painful converse in a stranger's land,
But in peculiar diction, and sweet tones
Harmonious. In mute silence stood the croud,
And marvell'd what it meant; Arabians, Cretes,
Phrygians, and Elamites, and they who spread
From Tigris to Euphrates, and the slaves
Of Cappadocia, Lydians, Parthians, Medes,
And tenants of Cyrene, torrid soil.
‘Are these,’ said they, and on each other gaz'd
In awful admiration, ‘these the words
‘Of rude, unletter'd peasants? are these they,
‘The pilots of the Galilean lake,
‘Who plied their humble craft, and bent their oar,
‘Undisciplin'd in science? does the art
‘Of potent magic, of Thessalian spells,
‘Cheat our deluded sense with fancied sounds?
‘Or has new wine-inspired their specious tongues
‘With random oratory? It is not art
‘Cheats our deluded sense with fancied sounds;
‘Nor is it wine inspires: for scarce three hours
‘Have pass'd, since first the morn with orient light
‘Dawn'd o'er yon hill of Olives; and the voice
‘Of sober reason, of persuasive truth,
‘Pierc'd our relenting hearts. Ye holy men,
‘Yes, we confess that Jesus rose again,
‘That your Messiah reigns. Ye holy men,
‘Lead us, O lead us, to some hallow'd fount,
‘And in baptismal water purge our souls,
‘Till we be pure as ye.’ They spake, they bow'd
With lowliest reverence, and to distant climes
Proclaim'd the wond'rous tale; while Antioch saw
The faithful Patriarch of the rising sect
Unite his votaries in their master's name.
In every nation, and in every clime,
Where Rome had rais'd her banner. Hark! what means
That roaring sound? Was it a northern blast
Rushing impetuous from his seven-mouth'd cave?
No; 'twas the Spirit spake; it was the voice
Of inspiration. There the faithful sat,
Waiting their promised Comforter; when each
Unpractis'd in a foreign phrase, at once
Spake every language; nor in accent strange,
And dialect uncouth, as one who first
Holds painful converse in a stranger's land,
But in peculiar diction, and sweet tones
Harmonious. In mute silence stood the croud,
And marvell'd what it meant; Arabians, Cretes,
Phrygians, and Elamites, and they who spread
89
Of Cappadocia, Lydians, Parthians, Medes,
And tenants of Cyrene, torrid soil.
‘Are these,’ said they, and on each other gaz'd
In awful admiration, ‘these the words
‘Of rude, unletter'd peasants? are these they,
‘The pilots of the Galilean lake,
‘Who plied their humble craft, and bent their oar,
‘Undisciplin'd in science? does the art
‘Of potent magic, of Thessalian spells,
‘Cheat our deluded sense with fancied sounds?
‘Or has new wine-inspired their specious tongues
‘With random oratory? It is not art
‘Cheats our deluded sense with fancied sounds;
‘Nor is it wine inspires: for scarce three hours
‘Have pass'd, since first the morn with orient light
90
‘Of sober reason, of persuasive truth,
‘Pierc'd our relenting hearts. Ye holy men,
‘Yes, we confess that Jesus rose again,
‘That your Messiah reigns. Ye holy men,
‘Lead us, O lead us, to some hallow'd fount,
‘And in baptismal water purge our souls,
‘Till we be pure as ye.’ They spake, they bow'd
With lowliest reverence, and to distant climes
Proclaim'd the wond'rous tale; while Antioch saw
The faithful Patriarch of the rising sect
Unite his votaries in their master's name.
But oh the change! Tell, gracious Governour,
Tell, for thy ways are hid from men, and all
Thy counsels, like thy throne immoveable,
Are wrapt in clouds and darkness, why, where once
Repenting nations at the feast of love
Sat, and remember'd their departed Lord,
Reigns Mecca's bold impostor? In those streets,
Whence the great Constantine with holy zeal
Drove Rome's barbaric idols, Christian, tread
With cautious step; rude hisses shalt thou hear,
And savage taunts malicious. Syria weeps
To see the crescent streaming thro her vales;
And Abana, transparent flood, that wash'd
Full many a convert, rolls her mournful tide,
Lamenting the sad change. Even from the verge
Of that blest monument, where lay the bones
Of his sepulcher'd Lord, the Saracen
With cruel rage, and scorn indignant, drove
The way-worn pilgrim. Then, oh then, in vain
Fought lion-hearted England, and France spread
His social sails: in vain stout Godfrey rear'd
His banner, while ten thousand crosses blazed
Thro' all the faithful squadrons: still prevail'd
The insulting Infidel.—And yet the day
Shall come, when every nation of the earth
Shall bend with reverence at their Saviour's name.
That day knows no man: He alone can tell,
Who, with wise providence, and sovereign sway,
Conducts, controuls, accelerates, delays,
Events, conceal'd from mortals; He alone,
Who bade four thousand summers roll, or ere
He sent his Son, tho promis'd long before
Even to the sire of men, when to bleak scenes
He led his weeping tempter, doom'd to toil,
Nor dared look back on Eden's blooming bowers.
Tell, for thy ways are hid from men, and all
Thy counsels, like thy throne immoveable,
Are wrapt in clouds and darkness, why, where once
91
Sat, and remember'd their departed Lord,
Reigns Mecca's bold impostor? In those streets,
Whence the great Constantine with holy zeal
Drove Rome's barbaric idols, Christian, tread
With cautious step; rude hisses shalt thou hear,
And savage taunts malicious. Syria weeps
To see the crescent streaming thro her vales;
And Abana, transparent flood, that wash'd
Full many a convert, rolls her mournful tide,
Lamenting the sad change. Even from the verge
Of that blest monument, where lay the bones
Of his sepulcher'd Lord, the Saracen
With cruel rage, and scorn indignant, drove
The way-worn pilgrim. Then, oh then, in vain
Fought lion-hearted England, and France spread
92
His banner, while ten thousand crosses blazed
Thro' all the faithful squadrons: still prevail'd
The insulting Infidel.—And yet the day
Shall come, when every nation of the earth
Shall bend with reverence at their Saviour's name.
That day knows no man: He alone can tell,
Who, with wise providence, and sovereign sway,
Conducts, controuls, accelerates, delays,
Events, conceal'd from mortals; He alone,
Who bade four thousand summers roll, or ere
He sent his Son, tho promis'd long before
Even to the sire of men, when to bleak scenes
He led his weeping tempter, doom'd to toil,
Nor dared look back on Eden's blooming bowers.
93
There are, who own that o'er the general plan,
The first great Architect, intent to guard
His favourite works, yet watches, but disdains
The partial care of each. Mark then the event:
Of Individuals Generals are composed;
If one exists, unnotic'd by the eye
Of heaven, why not another? why not all?
In that vast volume, where recorded lie
Creation's acts, in fairest characters
Is register'd whate'er was made: nor bone,
Nor vein, nor branching sinew, but is rang'd
In order due: nor hair, nor colour'd plume,
Nor insect's painted wing, but in its page
Is class'd, and claims protection from its God.
And shall not he, who numbers all his stars,
Who counts each sand, and every wave that rolls,
Explore the human heart? The Lord of All
Is Lord of every one; his hand is stretch'd
O'er each; each feels his providential care.
The first great Architect, intent to guard
His favourite works, yet watches, but disdains
The partial care of each. Mark then the event:
Of Individuals Generals are composed;
If one exists, unnotic'd by the eye
Of heaven, why not another? why not all?
In that vast volume, where recorded lie
Creation's acts, in fairest characters
Is register'd whate'er was made: nor bone,
Nor vein, nor branching sinew, but is rang'd
In order due: nor hair, nor colour'd plume,
Nor insect's painted wing, but in its page
Is class'd, and claims protection from its God.
And shall not he, who numbers all his stars,
Who counts each sand, and every wave that rolls,
94
Is Lord of every one; his hand is stretch'd
O'er each; each feels his providential care.
But chief o'er States his tutelary power
Extends. Some sink, an unresisting prey
To despicable conquerors; others stand,
Tho human skill, and mortal succours fail,
Safe 'gainst united legions. Thus fell Rome;
To rescued freedom thus Batavia rais'd
Seven social altars; thus Britannia sits,
Thron'd like a scepter'd Sovereign, in the midst
Of tributary seas. Thou, gracious Lord,
Full oft hast saved her from the invader's arm,
From anarchy's wild uproar, from the chain
Of galling servitude. Thou, when the land,
By civil discord torn, saw half her sons
Lie weltering in their blood, her nobles slain,
Her monarch in the dust, thou didst remove,
Safe from the usurper's arm, the shelter'd branch
Of blasted royalty, and in due time
Transplant it to the hereditary throne,
When tyranny, and democratic rage
Yielded to peace, and order. Thou, when zeal,
And frantic bigotry untied the bonds
Of plighted faith, and from his forfeit crown
Exil'd her sovereign, on the vacant seat
Didst place that Guardian Monarch, who secured,
Safe from each inroad of despotic sway,
Her fair inheritance. O may'st thou still
Protect this isle! Pour all thy bessings down
On HIM, THY PEOPLE's SHEPHERD! O defend
Our laws, the wisdom of a thousand years!
Preserve thine altars; let that holy flame,
Fed by the blood of many a martyr'd Saint,
Blaze with unclouded lustre. Long the yoke
Had gall'd our fathers: from his awful chair,
Fenc'd by an host of Monks, and bearded Friars,
The Pontiff fulmin'd o'er the prostrate world,
Infallible; nor ceas'd, till all the rights
Of civil, of religious freedom, bow'd
To venal dispensation. Then arose
The unbending spirit of Luther. He alike
Disdain'd the Papal, and Imperial threats,
And to his wondering votaries first display'd
Those sacred treasures, long, too long conceal'd,
The covenants of salvation. Albion saw
The glorious struggle of Germania's sons,
And caught the sacred fire. Ah! bloody Queen,
Ah! woman, that, with unaverted eye,
Could'st view the pityless flames wrap round the flesh
Of age, and innocence, let me not write
Thy name, nor blot my chaste page with a curse
Call'd on thy gloomy Spaniard! Drag'd, sad scene!
Drag'd by his hoary hair, old Latimer
Embraced the fire; while Ridley, by his side,
Consoled the venerable sage, and fell
Exulting, tho in pain. Confin'd in smoke
The sullen flame consum'd by slow delay
Meek, patient Hooper; while, with steady look,
Undaunted Cranmer o'er the fatal pile
Stretch'd his apostate hand. Ye murder'd saints,
Once faithful feeders of your master's flock,
But now the seal'd of God, your race is run,
Great is your meed in heaven. Yet oh! look down,
Nor spurn the praise of men, from whose freed souls
Ye shook Rome's galling shackle. Oft to you
Posterity shall raise the choral hymn;
Still shall your acts survive, ye faithful band,
In memory's grateful records. For the sea
Shall sooner round their ramparts cease to roar,
Sooner their isle shall in the Southern main
Fix her deep roots, than Britons e'er forget
That faith, those rights, for which their fathers bled.
Extends. Some sink, an unresisting prey
To despicable conquerors; others stand,
Tho human skill, and mortal succours fail,
Safe 'gainst united legions. Thus fell Rome;
To rescued freedom thus Batavia rais'd
Seven social altars; thus Britannia sits,
Thron'd like a scepter'd Sovereign, in the midst
Of tributary seas. Thou, gracious Lord,
Full oft hast saved her from the invader's arm,
From anarchy's wild uproar, from the chain
Of galling servitude. Thou, when the land,
By civil discord torn, saw half her sons
95
Her monarch in the dust, thou didst remove,
Safe from the usurper's arm, the shelter'd branch
Of blasted royalty, and in due time
Transplant it to the hereditary throne,
When tyranny, and democratic rage
Yielded to peace, and order. Thou, when zeal,
And frantic bigotry untied the bonds
Of plighted faith, and from his forfeit crown
Exil'd her sovereign, on the vacant seat
Didst place that Guardian Monarch, who secured,
Safe from each inroad of despotic sway,
Her fair inheritance. O may'st thou still
Protect this isle! Pour all thy bessings down
On HIM, THY PEOPLE's SHEPHERD! O defend
Our laws, the wisdom of a thousand years!
96
Fed by the blood of many a martyr'd Saint,
Blaze with unclouded lustre. Long the yoke
Had gall'd our fathers: from his awful chair,
Fenc'd by an host of Monks, and bearded Friars,
The Pontiff fulmin'd o'er the prostrate world,
Infallible; nor ceas'd, till all the rights
Of civil, of religious freedom, bow'd
To venal dispensation. Then arose
The unbending spirit of Luther. He alike
Disdain'd the Papal, and Imperial threats,
And to his wondering votaries first display'd
Those sacred treasures, long, too long conceal'd,
The covenants of salvation. Albion saw
The glorious struggle of Germania's sons,
And caught the sacred fire. Ah! bloody Queen,
97
Could'st view the pityless flames wrap round the flesh
Of age, and innocence, let me not write
Thy name, nor blot my chaste page with a curse
Call'd on thy gloomy Spaniard! Drag'd, sad scene!
Drag'd by his hoary hair, old Latimer
Embraced the fire; while Ridley, by his side,
Consoled the venerable sage, and fell
Exulting, tho in pain. Confin'd in smoke
The sullen flame consum'd by slow delay
Meek, patient Hooper; while, with steady look,
Undaunted Cranmer o'er the fatal pile
Stretch'd his apostate hand. Ye murder'd saints,
Once faithful feeders of your master's flock,
But now the seal'd of God, your race is run,
Great is your meed in heaven. Yet oh! look down,
98
Ye shook Rome's galling shackle. Oft to you
Posterity shall raise the choral hymn;
Still shall your acts survive, ye faithful band,
In memory's grateful records. For the sea
Shall sooner round their ramparts cease to roar,
Sooner their isle shall in the Southern main
Fix her deep roots, than Britons e'er forget
That faith, those rights, for which their fathers bled.
Thales.—Ηρωτησε τις αυτον, ει ληθοι Θεους ανθρωπος αδικων; αλλ' ουδε διανοουμενος, εφη. Diog. Laert. in Vit. Thal.
------ fore ut ad extremum omnis mundus ignescat, cum, humore consumpto, neque terra ali possit, &c. Cicero de Nat. Deor. 2.
| Poems by Dr. Roberts of Eton College | |