 | Poems by Dr. Roberts of Eton College |  |
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III. PART III.
Αλληλουα: οτι ΕΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣΕ Κυριος ο Θεος ο παντοκρατωρ.
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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.
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‘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
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‘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
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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,
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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;
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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,
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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,
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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,
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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
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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,
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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,
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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
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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,
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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,
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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!
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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!
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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.
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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 | |