Poems by Dr. Roberts of Eton College

Roberts, W. H. (1734-1791)

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TO THE Rev. Dr. BARNARD, PROVOST OF Eton College, &c.

A POETICAL ESSAY ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD.

PART I .

II.

PART II.

III.

PART III.

A POETICAL EPISTLE, TO CHRISTOPHER ANSTEY, Esq; ON THE ENGLISH POETS,

THE POOR MAN's PRAYER. ADDRESSED TO THE EARL OF CHATHAM. AN ELEGY.

ARIMANT and TAMIRA. AN EASTERN TALE.

TO JACOB BRYANT, Esq.

TO G. A. S. Esq. On his Leaving Eton School.

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II. PART II.

Ο Πατηρ υμων ο εν τοις ουρανοις ΤΕΛΕΙΟΣ εστε.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

‘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.

Σειρην Χρυσειην. Hom. Il. viii. 19.

In the Beginning God [Elohim] created the heaven and the earth. Gen. I. 1.

Rev. xxi.

University of Virginia Library

II. PART II.

ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND PART.