Thoughts in Prison, in Five Parts viz. The Imprisonment--The Retrospect--Public Punishment--The Trial--Futurity; By the Rev. William Dodd. To which are added, His Last Prayer, Written in the Night before his Death; The Convict's Address to his Unhappy Brethren; and Other Miscellaneous Pieces: With an account of the author, and a list of his works ... The fourth edition, with additions |
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| 4. | WEEK THE FOURTH.
The Trial.
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 | Thoughts in Prison, in Five Parts |  |
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WEEK THE FOURTH. The Trial.
Dread'st thou an earthly bar? Thou who so oft
In contemplation serious hast employ'd
Thy dearest meditations on a bar
Tremendously decisive! who so oft
That bar's important terrors hast display'd
To crowds attentive; with the solemn theme
Rapt in thought profound—And beats thy heart
With throbs tumultuous—fail thy trembling knees,
Now that in judgment thou must stand before
Weak mortals, like thyself, and soon like thee,
Shivering with guilt and apprehensions dire,
To answer in dread judgment 'fore their God!
In contemplation serious hast employ'd
Thy dearest meditations on a bar
Tremendously decisive! who so oft
That bar's important terrors hast display'd
To crowds attentive; with the solemn theme
Rapt in thought profound—And beats thy heart
With throbs tumultuous—fail thy trembling knees,
Now that in judgment thou must stand before
Weak mortals, like thyself, and soon like thee,
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To answer in dread judgment 'fore their God!
What gives that judgment terror? Guilt, pale guilt;
Conscience accusing stern; the fiery law,
The terrible hand-writing on the wall!
But vanish these,—that mighty day's-man found,
Who, smiling on confession's genuine tear,
The meek repentant aspect, and the hand
With ready, perfect retribution fraught,
Urges complete his ransom, and sets free
Th'immortal prisoner.—But, ah me! on earth
Such golden mercy reigns not: here is found
No potent day's-man; here no ransom full,
No clement mediator. Here stern law,
With visage all unbending, eyes alone
The rigorous act. Confession here is guilt,
And restitution perfect, perfect loss!
Ah me the while, here men the judges are;
And there, th'Omniscient mercy's source and stream!
Conscience accusing stern; the fiery law,
The terrible hand-writing on the wall!
But vanish these,—that mighty day's-man found,
Who, smiling on confession's genuine tear,
The meek repentant aspect, and the hand
With ready, perfect retribution fraught,
Urges complete his ransom, and sets free
Th'immortal prisoner.—But, ah me! on earth
Such golden mercy reigns not: here is found
No potent day's-man; here no ransom full,
No clement mediator. Here stern law,
With visage all unbending, eyes alone
The rigorous act. Confession here is guilt,
And restitution perfect, perfect loss!
Ah me the while, here men the judges are;
And there, th'Omniscient mercy's source and stream!
Triumphant consolation! Firm in faith,
And justify'd by him whose precious blood
For man flow'd liberal, the soul secure
Of future acceptation at that bar
Of trial most momentous, soars above
The world's severest trials
, and can view
Serene the horrors of an earthly bar,
Though far than death more horrid. Yes, kind death,
How preferable far thy sight to me!
Oh that, without this tedious, dread detail
Of awful circumstance,—this long, sad pomp
Of ministering wretchedness, thy friendly shaft
Had instant reach'd, and pierc'd my tortur'd heart:
How had I bless'd the stroke, and been at peace!
But thro' a dreary avenue of woe,
A lengthen'd vault of black distress and shame,
With mournful melancholy sable hung,
Must I be led ,—or ere I can receive
Thine icy comforts to my chill'd life's blood!
And justify'd by him whose precious blood
For man flow'd liberal, the soul secure
Of future acceptation at that bar
Of trial most momentous, soars above
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Serene the horrors of an earthly bar,
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How preferable far thy sight to me!
Oh that, without this tedious, dread detail
Of awful circumstance,—this long, sad pomp
Of ministering wretchedness, thy friendly shaft
Had instant reach'd, and pierc'd my tortur'd heart:
How had I bless'd the stroke, and been at peace!
But thro' a dreary avenue of woe,
A lengthen'd vault of black distress and shame,
With mournful melancholy sable hung,
Must I be led ,—or ere I can receive
Thine icy comforts to my chill'd life's blood!
Welcome, thrice welcome were they. But the call
Of Heaven's dread arbiter we wait: His will
Is rectitude consummate. 'Tis the will
Parental of high wisdom and pure love.
Then to that will submissive bend, my soul:
And, while meek resignation to the rod
Corrective of his justice and his love
Obedient bows,—Oh for impartial search!
Oh for a trial strict, to trace the cause,
The fatal cause, whence sprung the ill deplor'd!
And why—sad spectacle of woe—we stand
Thus, sin and sorrow sunk, at this dread bar!
Of Heaven's dread arbiter we wait: His will
Is rectitude consummate. 'Tis the will
Parental of high wisdom and pure love.
Then to that will submissive bend, my soul:
And, while meek resignation to the rod
Corrective of his justice and his love
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Oh for a trial strict, to trace the cause,
The fatal cause, whence sprung the ill deplor'd!
And why—sad spectacle of woe—we stand
Thus, sin and sorrow sunk, at this dread bar!
Return, blest hours—ye peaceful days, return!
When thro' each office of celestial love
Ennobling piety my glad feet led
Continual, and my head each night to rest
Lull'd on the downy pillow of content!
Dear were thy shades, O Ham, and dear the hours
In manly musing 'midst thy forests pass'd,
And antique woods of sober solitude,
Oh Epping, witness to my lonely walks
By Heaven-directed contemplation led!
Ye days of duty, tranquil nights, return!
How ill exchang'd for those, which busier scenes
To the world's follies dedicate, engross'd,
In specious trifling; all important deem'd,
While guilt, O Chesterfield, with seeming gold
Of prime refinement, thro' thy fostering smile,
And patronage auspicious!
When thro' each office of celestial love
Ennobling piety my glad feet led
Continual, and my head each night to rest
Lull'd on the downy pillow of content!
Dear were thy shades, O Ham, and dear the hours
In manly musing 'midst thy forests pass'd,
And antique woods of sober solitude,
Oh Epping, witness to my lonely walks
By Heaven-directed contemplation led!
Ye days of duty, tranquil nights, return!
How ill exchang'd for those, which busier scenes
To the world's follies dedicate, engross'd,
In specious trifling; all important deem'd,
While guilt, O Chesterfield, with seeming gold
Of prime refinement, thro' thy fostering smile,
And patronage auspicious!
Sought by thee,
And singled out, unpatroniz'd, unknown;
By thee, whose taste consummate was applause,
Whose approbation merit; forth I came,
And with me to the task, delighted, brought
The upright purpose, the intention firm
To fill the charge, to justify the choice,
Perchance too flattering to my heart; a heart
Frank, inexpert, unhackney'd in the world,
And yet estrang'd to guile! But ye, more skill'd
In that world's artful style, judges severe;
Say, in the zenith of bright Stanhope's sun
(Though set that sun, alas, in misty clouds!)
Say 'midst his lustre, whom would not that choice
Have flatter'd?—and still more, when urg'd, approv'd,
And bless'd by thee, St. David's! Honour'd friend;
Alike in wisdom's and in learning's school
Advanc'd and sage!—Short pause, my muse, and sad
Allow, while leaning on affection's arm
Deep-sighing Gratitude, with tears of truth,
Bedews the urn, the happy urn, where rest
Mingled thy ashes, oh my friend; and hers
Whose life bound up with thine in amity
Indissolubly firm, felt thy last pang
Disrupting as her own; gently sigh'd forth
The precious boon: while sprung her faithful soul,
Indignant without thee to rest below,
On wings of love, to meet thee in the skies!
And singled out, unpatroniz'd, unknown;
By thee, whose taste consummate was applause,
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And with me to the task, delighted, brought
The upright purpose, the intention firm
To fill the charge, to justify the choice,
Perchance too flattering to my heart; a heart
Frank, inexpert, unhackney'd in the world,
And yet estrang'd to guile! But ye, more skill'd
In that world's artful style, judges severe;
Say, in the zenith of bright Stanhope's sun
(Though set that sun, alas, in misty clouds!)
Say 'midst his lustre, whom would not that choice
Have flatter'd?—and still more, when urg'd, approv'd,
And bless'd by thee, St. David's! Honour'd friend;
Alike in wisdom's and in learning's school
Advanc'd and sage!—Short pause, my muse, and sad
Allow, while leaning on affection's arm
Deep-sighing Gratitude, with tears of truth,
Bedews the urn, the happy urn, where rest
Mingled thy ashes, oh my friend; and hers
Whose life bound up with thine in amity
Indissolubly firm, felt thy last pang
Disrupting as her own; gently sigh'd forth
The precious boon: while sprung her faithful soul,
Indignant without thee to rest below,
On wings of love, to meet thee in the skies!
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Blest pair! and envied! Envied and embalm'd
In our recording memory, my wife,
My friend, my lov'd Maria, be our lot
Like theirs!—But soft,—ah my foreboding thoughts!
Repress the gushing tear;—return, my song.
In our recording memory, my wife,
My friend, my lov'd Maria, be our lot
Like theirs!—But soft,—ah my foreboding thoughts!
Repress the gushing tear;—return, my song.
Plac'd thus, and shelter'd underneath a tree,
Which seem'd like that in visions of the night
To Babylonia's haughty prince pourtray'd,
Whose height reach'd Heaven, and whose verdant boughs
Extended wide their succour and their shade,
How did I trust, too confident! How dream
That fortune's smiles were mine; and how deceiv'd,
By gradual declension yield my trust,
My humble happy trust on Thee, my God!
How ill exchang'd for confidence in man,
In Chesterfields, in princes!—Wider scenes,
Alps still on Alps were open'd to my view;
And, as the circle in the flood enlarg'd,
Enlarg'd expences call. Fed to the full
With flattery's light food , and the puff'd wind
Of promises delusive—“Onward still,
“Press onward,” cried the world's alluring-voice;
“The time of retribution is at hand:
“See the ripe vintage waits thee!” Fool and blind,
Still credulous I heard, and still pursued
The airy meteor glittering thro' the mire,
Thro' brake and bog, till more and more ingulph'd
In the deceitful quag, floundering I lay.
Nor heard was then the world's alluring voice,
Or promises delusive: then not seen
The tree umbrageous, with its ample shade:
For me, alas, that tree had shade no more!
But, struggling in the gulph, my languid eye
Saw only round the barren rushy moor,
The flat, wide dreary desart:—Till a hope,
Dress'd by the tempter in an angel's form,
Presenting its fair hand,—imagin'd fair,
Though foul as murkiest Hell, to drag me forth,
Down to the centre plung'd me, dark and dire
Of howling ruin;—bottomless abyss
Of desolating shame, and nameless woe!
Which seem'd like that in visions of the night
To Babylonia's haughty prince pourtray'd,
Whose height reach'd Heaven, and whose verdant boughs
Extended wide their succour and their shade,
How did I trust, too confident! How dream
That fortune's smiles were mine; and how deceiv'd,
By gradual declension yield my trust,
My humble happy trust on Thee, my God!
How ill exchang'd for confidence in man,
In Chesterfields, in princes!—Wider scenes,
Alps still on Alps were open'd to my view;
And, as the circle in the flood enlarg'd,
Enlarg'd expences call. Fed to the full
With flattery's light food , and the puff'd wind
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“Press onward,” cried the world's alluring-voice;
“The time of retribution is at hand:
“See the ripe vintage waits thee!” Fool and blind,
Still credulous I heard, and still pursued
The airy meteor glittering thro' the mire,
Thro' brake and bog, till more and more ingulph'd
In the deceitful quag, floundering I lay.
Nor heard was then the world's alluring voice,
Or promises delusive: then not seen
The tree umbrageous, with its ample shade:
For me, alas, that tree had shade no more!
But, struggling in the gulph, my languid eye
Saw only round the barren rushy moor,
The flat, wide dreary desart:—Till a hope,
Dress'd by the tempter in an angel's form,
Presenting its fair hand,—imagin'd fair,
Though foul as murkiest Hell, to drag me forth,
Down to the centre plung'd me, dark and dire
Of howling ruin;—bottomless abyss
Of desolating shame, and nameless woe!
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But, witness Heaven and earth, 'midst this brief stage,
This blasting period of my chequer'd life,
Tho' by the world's gay vanities allur'd,
I danc'd, too oft, alas, with the wild rout
Of thoughtless fellow-mortals, to the sound
Of folly's tinkling bells; tho' oft, too oft
Those pastimes shar'd enervating, which ill
—Howe'er by some judg'd innocent,—become
Religion's sober character and garb:
Tho' oft, too oft, by weak compliance led,
External seemings, and the ruinous bait
Of smooth politeness, what my heart condemn'd
Unwise it practis'd; never without pang;
Tho' too much influenc'd by the pleasing force
Of native generosity, uncurb'd
And unchastis'd (as reason, duty taught)
Prudent œconomy, in thy sober school
Of parsimonious lecture; useful lore,
And of prime moment to our worldly weal;
—Yet witness Heaven and earth, amidst this dream,
This transient vision, ne'er so slept my soul,
Or sacrific'd my hands at folly's shrine,
As to forget Religion's public toil,
Study's improvement, or the pleading cause
Of suffering humanity.—Gracious God,
How wonderful a compound, mixture strange,
Incongruous, inconsistent, is frail man!
This blasting period of my chequer'd life,
Tho' by the world's gay vanities allur'd,
I danc'd, too oft, alas, with the wild rout
Of thoughtless fellow-mortals, to the sound
Of folly's tinkling bells; tho' oft, too oft
Those pastimes shar'd enervating, which ill
—Howe'er by some judg'd innocent,—become
Religion's sober character and garb:
Tho' oft, too oft, by weak compliance led,
External seemings, and the ruinous bait
Of smooth politeness, what my heart condemn'd
Unwise it practis'd; never without pang;
Tho' too much influenc'd by the pleasing force
Of native generosity, uncurb'd
And unchastis'd (as reason, duty taught)
Prudent œconomy, in thy sober school
Of parsimonious lecture; useful lore,
And of prime moment to our worldly weal;
—Yet witness Heaven and earth, amidst this dream,
This transient vision, ne'er so slept my soul,
Or sacrific'd my hands at folly's shrine,
As to forget Religion's public toil,
Study's improvement, or the pleading cause
Of suffering humanity.—Gracious God,
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Incongruous, inconsistent, is frail man!
Yes, my lov'd Charlotte, whose top-stone with joy
My careful hands brought forth, what time expell'd
From Ham's lost paradise, and driv'n to seek
Another place of rest! Yes, beauteous fane,
To bright religion dedicate, thou well
My happy public labours canst attest,
Unwearied and successful in the cause,
The glorious, honour'd cause of Him, whose love
Bled for the human race. Thou canst attest
The Sabbath-days delightful, when the throng
Crowded thy hallow'd walls with eager joy,
To hear truth evangelical; the sound
Of gospel comfort! When attentive sat,
Or at the holy altar humbly knelt,
Persuasive, pleasing patterns—Athol's Duke,
The polish'd Hervey, Kingston the humane,
Aylesbury and Marchmont, Romney all-rever'd;
With numbers more—by splended titles less
Than piety distinguish'd and pure zeal.
My careful hands brought forth, what time expell'd
From Ham's lost paradise, and driv'n to seek
Another place of rest! Yes, beauteous fane,
To bright religion dedicate, thou well
My happy public labours canst attest,
Unwearied and successful in the cause,
The glorious, honour'd cause of Him, whose love
Bled for the human race. Thou canst attest
The Sabbath-days delightful, when the throng
Crowded thy hallow'd walls with eager joy,
To hear truth evangelical; the sound
Of gospel comfort! When attentive sat,
Or at the holy altar humbly knelt,
Persuasive, pleasing patterns—Athol's Duke,
The polish'd Hervey, Kingston the humane,
Aylesbury and Marchmont, Romney all-rever'd;
With numbers more—by splended titles less
Than piety distinguish'd and pure zeal.
Nor, 'midst this public duty's blest discharge,
Pass'd idle, unimproving, unemploy'd,
My other days; as if the Sabbath's task
Fullfil'd, the business of the week was done,
Or self-allow'd. Witness, thrice holy book,
Pure transcript of th'Eternal Will to man:
Witness with what assiduous care I turn'd
Daily the hallow'd page; with what deep search
Explor'd thy sacred meaning; thro' the round
Of learn'd expositors and grave trod slow,
And painfully deliberating; the while
My labours unremitting to the world
Convey'd instruction large;—and shall convey,
When moulders in the grave the feeble hand,
The head, the heart, that gave those labours birth.
Pass'd idle, unimproving, unemploy'd,
My other days; as if the Sabbath's task
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Or self-allow'd. Witness, thrice holy book,
Pure transcript of th'Eternal Will to man:
Witness with what assiduous care I turn'd
Daily the hallow'd page; with what deep search
Explor'd thy sacred meaning; thro' the round
Of learn'd expositors and grave trod slow,
And painfully deliberating; the while
My labours unremitting to the world
Convey'd instruction large;—and shall convey,
When moulders in the grave the feeble hand,
The head, the heart, that gave those labours birth.
Oh happy toil, oh labours well employ'd,
Oh sweet remembrance to my sickening soul,
Blest volumes! Nor tho' levell'd in the dust
Of self-annihilation, shall my soul
Cease to rejoice, or thy preventive grace
Adoring laud, Fountain of every good!
For that no letter'd poison ever stain'd
My page, how weak soe'er; for that my pen,
However humble, ne'er has trac'd a line
Of tendency immortal, whose black guilt
It well might wish to blot with tears of blood,
Dear to the christian shall my little works,
—Effusions of a heart sincere, devote
To God and duty, happily survive
Their wretched master; and thro' lengthen'd years
To souls opprest, comfort's sweet balm impart,
And teach the pensive mourner how to die .
Oh sweet remembrance to my sickening soul,
Blest volumes! Nor tho' levell'd in the dust
Of self-annihilation, shall my soul
Cease to rejoice, or thy preventive grace
Adoring laud, Fountain of every good!
For that no letter'd poison ever stain'd
My page, how weak soe'er; for that my pen,
However humble, ne'er has trac'd a line
Of tendency immortal, whose black guilt
It well might wish to blot with tears of blood,
Dear to the christian shall my little works,
—Effusions of a heart sincere, devote
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Their wretched master; and thro' lengthen'd years
To souls opprest, comfort's sweet balm impart,
And teach the pensive mourner how to die .
Thou too, blest Charity, whose golden key
So liberal unlocks the prison's gate
At the poor debtor's call; oh, witness thou,
To cruel taxers of my time and thought,
All was not lost, all were not misemploy'd,
Nor all humanity's fair rights forgot:
Since thou, spontaneous effort of the last,
My pity's child, and by the first matur'd,
Amidst this flattering, fatal æra rose;
Rose into being, to perfection rose,
Beneath my humble fostering; and at length
Grown into public favour, thou shalt live;
And endless good diffuse, when sleeps in dust
Thy hapless founder now, by direst fate,
Lock'd in a prison, whence thy bounty sets,
And shall—oh comfort—long set thousands free.
So liberal unlocks the prison's gate
At the poor debtor's call; oh, witness thou,
To cruel taxers of my time and thought,
All was not lost, all were not misemploy'd,
Nor all humanity's fair rights forgot:
Since thou, spontaneous effort of the last,
My pity's child, and by the first matur'd,
Amidst this flattering, fatal æra rose;
Rose into being, to perfection rose,
Beneath my humble fostering; and at length
Grown into public favour, thou shalt live;
And endless good diffuse, when sleeps in dust
Thy hapless founder now, by direst fate,
Lock'd in a prison, whence thy bounty sets,
And shall—oh comfort—long set thousands free.
Happy, thrice happy, had my active zeal,—
Already deem'd too active chance, by some,
Whose frozen hearts, in icy fetters bound
Of sordid selfishness, ne'er felt the warmth,
The genial warmth of pure benevolence,
Love's ardent flame aspiring;—had that flame
Kindled my glowing zeal into effect,
And to thy counterpart existence giv'n,
Lov'd institution; with its guardian aid
Protecting from the prison's ruinous doors,
Those whom thy kindly mercy rescues thence!
Or, had that zeal, on firm foundation fix'd
Like thine my favourite Magdalen,—the plan,
Preservative of tender female fame ,
Fair innocence and virtue, from those ills
Destructive, complicate, which only find
Relief beneath thy hospitable roof,
How had I died exulting!—But, oh raise,
Inspire some godlike spirit, some great soul,
Father of mercies, of all love, all good
Author and finisher;—these, and every work
Beneficent, with courage to pursue,
With wisdom to complete! Oh crown his zeal;
While sorrowing human nature, by his hand
Cherish'd and sooth'd, to latest times shall tell,
And bless with tears of gratitude his name!
Already deem'd too active chance, by some,
Whose frozen hearts, in icy fetters bound
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The genial warmth of pure benevolence,
Love's ardent flame aspiring;—had that flame
Kindled my glowing zeal into effect,
And to thy counterpart existence giv'n,
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Protecting from the prison's ruinous doors,
Those whom thy kindly mercy rescues thence!
Or, had that zeal, on firm foundation fix'd
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Preservative of tender female fame ,
Fair innocence and virtue, from those ills
Destructive, complicate, which only find
Relief beneath thy hospitable roof,
How had I died exulting!—But, oh raise,
Inspire some godlike spirit, some great soul,
Father of mercies, of all love, all good
Author and finisher;—these, and every work
Beneficent, with courage to pursue,
With wisdom to complete! Oh crown his zeal;
While sorrowing human nature, by his hand
Cherish'd and sooth'd, to latest times shall tell,
And bless with tears of gratitude his name!
Mine is a different fate,—confess'd, just Judge,
The meed of human mixture in my works
Imperfect, frail; and needing, even the best,
Thy pardon and the cleansing of thy blood,
Else whence the frequent retributions base,
Calumnious and ungrateful, for the deeds
Of private pity? Whence, for public acts,
The stab opprobrious, and the slanders vile?
Or whence, at this dread moment,—from the sight
Shrowd me in tenfold darkness!—Mercy, Heavens!
The meed of human mixture in my works
Imperfect, frail; and needing, even the best,
Thy pardon and the cleansing of thy blood,
Else whence the frequent retributions base,
Calumnious and ungrateful, for the deeds
Of private pity? Whence, for public acts,
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Or whence, at this dread moment,—from the sight
Shrowd me in tenfold darkness!—Mercy, Heavens!
And is it He—th'ingenuous youth, so oft
Of all my being, fortune, comfort, deem'd
The generous, ample source?—And is it He,
In whom, thro' drear misfortune's darkest night,
I saw Hope's day-star rising?—Angel of peace,
Amidst his future hours, my life's sad loss,
Let not accusing conscience to his charge
Impute, distracting—to my crimson'd guilt
Oh let him lay it, as the forfeit due,
And justly paid!—Would Heaven that it were paid!
Oh, that with Rome's first Cæsar, in my robe
From sight so killing, mantled up mine eyes,
I might receive the welcome stab; sigh forth,
“My Philip, my lov'd Stanhope,—Is it thou?
“—Then let me die.”—
Of all my being, fortune, comfort, deem'd
The generous, ample source?—And is it He,
In whom, thro' drear misfortune's darkest night,
I saw Hope's day-star rising?—Angel of peace,
Amidst his future hours, my life's sad loss,
Let not accusing conscience to his charge
Impute, distracting—to my crimson'd guilt
Oh let him lay it, as the forfeit due,
And justly paid!—Would Heaven that it were paid!
Oh, that with Rome's first Cæsar, in my robe
From sight so killing, mantled up mine eyes,
I might receive the welcome stab; sigh forth,
“My Philip, my lov'd Stanhope,—Is it thou?
“—Then let me die.”—
Yet, tho' thus wounded at this bar I stand
In pangs unutterable, witness Heaven,
With deep commiseration do I view
Their sedulous anxiety to prove
A guilt, my heart,—too wounded to deny,
Wounded by that guilt's sense, its bitterest part,—
Instant avow'd. What need then all this toil?
The deed is done. Wound not the fall'n hart,—
'Tis cruel—that lies bleeding at your feet:
‘I own the whole; I urge no legal plea.
‘On dire necessity's imperious call,
‘(Sons of the robe, of commerce, sons of men,
‘That call imperious have you never heard?)
‘On full intention to repay the whole.
‘And on that full intention's perfect work,
‘Free restoration and complete: on wrong
‘Or injury to none design'd or wrought,
‘I rest my claim;—I found my sole defence.’
“Groundless,—'tis thunder'd in my ears—and weak;
“For in the rigid courts of human law,
“No restitution wipes away th'offence,
“Nor does intention justify.” So spoke
(And who shall argue?) Judgment's awful voice!
In pangs unutterable, witness Heaven,
With deep commiseration do I view
Their sedulous anxiety to prove
A guilt, my heart,—too wounded to deny,
Wounded by that guilt's sense, its bitterest part,—
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The deed is done. Wound not the fall'n hart,—
'Tis cruel—that lies bleeding at your feet:
‘I own the whole; I urge no legal plea.
‘On dire necessity's imperious call,
‘(Sons of the robe, of commerce, sons of men,
‘That call imperious have you never heard?)
‘On full intention to repay the whole.
‘And on that full intention's perfect work,
‘Free restoration and complete: on wrong
‘Or injury to none design'd or wrought,
‘I rest my claim;—I found my sole defence.’
“Groundless,—'tis thunder'd in my ears—and weak;
“For in the rigid courts of human law,
“No restitution wipes away th'offence,
“Nor does intention justify.” So spoke
(And who shall argue?) Judgment's awful voice!
Haste then, ye weeping jurymen, and pass
Th'awarded sentence. To the world, to fame,
To honor, fortune, peace, and Stanhope lost,
What have I more to lose? or can I think
Death were an evil to a wretch like me!
Th'awarded sentence. To the world, to fame,
To honor, fortune, peace, and Stanhope lost,
What have I more to lose? or can I think
Death were an evil to a wretch like me!
Yet, oh ye sons of justice!—ere we quit
This awful court, expostulation's voice
One moment hear impartial. Give a while
Your honest hearts to nature's touches true,
Her fine resentments faithful. Draw aside
That veil from reason's clear reflecting view,
Which practice long, and rectitude suppos'd
Of laws establish'd, hath obstructive hung.
But pleads or time, or long prescription aught
In favour or abatement of the wrong
By folly wrought, or error? Hoary grown,
And sanctify'd by custom's habit grey,
Absurdity stalks forth, still more absurd,
And double shame reflects upon an age
Wise and enlighten'd. Should not equal laws
Their punishments proportionate to crimes ;
Nor, all Draconic, ev'n to blood pursue
Vindictive, where the venial poor offence
Cries loud for mercy? Death's the last demand
Law can exact: the penalty extreme
Of human crime! and shall the petty thief
Succumb beneath its terrors, when no more
Pays the bold murderer, crimson'd o'er with guilt?
This awful court, expostulation's voice
One moment hear impartial. Give a while
120
Her fine resentments faithful. Draw aside
That veil from reason's clear reflecting view,
Which practice long, and rectitude suppos'd
Of laws establish'd, hath obstructive hung.
But pleads or time, or long prescription aught
In favour or abatement of the wrong
By folly wrought, or error? Hoary grown,
And sanctify'd by custom's habit grey,
Absurdity stalks forth, still more absurd,
And double shame reflects upon an age
Wise and enlighten'd. Should not equal laws
Their punishments proportionate to crimes ;
Nor, all Draconic, ev'n to blood pursue
Vindictive, where the venial poor offence
Cries loud for mercy? Death's the last demand
Law can exact: the penalty extreme
Of human crime! and shall the petty thief
Succumb beneath its terrors, when no more
Pays the bold murderer, crimson'd o'er with guilt?
121
Few are the crimes against or God or man,
—Consult th'eternal code of right or wrong,—
Which e'er can justify this last extreme ,
This wanton sporting with the human life,
This trade in blood. Ye sages, then, review,
Speedy and diligent, the penal code,
Humanity's disgrace; our nation's first
And just reproach, amidst its vaunted boasts
Of equity and mercy:—Shiver not
Full oft your inmost souls, when from the bench
Ye deal out death tremendous; and proclaim
Th'irrevocable sentence on a wretch
Pluck'd early from the paths of social life,
And immature, to the low grave consign'd
For misdemeanors trivial! Runs not back,
Affrighted, to its fountain your chill'd blood,
When, deck'd in all the horrid pomp of death,
And Gothic rage surpassing, to the flames
The weaker sex,—incredible—you doom;
Denouncing punishments the more severe,
As less of strength is found to bear their force?
Shame on the savage practice! Oh stand forth
In the great cause,—Compassion's, Equity's,
Your Nation's, Truth's, Religion's, Honour's cause,
—Stand forth, reflecting Eden ! Well thou'st toil'd
Already in the honourable field:
Might thy young labours animate, the hour
Auspicious is arriv'd. Sages esteem'd,
And venerably learn'd, as in the school
Of legal science, so in that of worth
And sentiment exalted, fill the bench:
And lo! the imperial Muscovite, intent
On public-weal, a bright example shines
Of civilizing justice. Sages rise:
The cause, the animating pattern calls.
Oh, I adjure you, with my parting breath,
By all your hopes of mercy and of peace,
By all the blood henceforth unjustly spilt,
Or wantonly by all the sorrows deep,
And scalding tears shed for that blood so spilt!
In God's tremendous name, lo, I adjure,
Without procrastination to the task
Important that you haste! With equal hand
In scales of temperate justice, balance well
The claims of pleading mercy! Unto crimes
Inflictions just and adequate assign;
On reformation or example sole,
And all impartial, constantly intent,
Banish the rage for blood! for tortures fell,
Savage, reproachful. Study to restore
Its young, its useful members to the state,
Well disciplin'd, corrected, moraliz'd;
Preserv'd at once from shame, from death, from Hell,
Men, rationals, immortals,—Sons of God.
Oh, prosperous be your labours, crown'd your zeal!
—Consult th'eternal code of right or wrong,—
Which e'er can justify this last extreme ,
This wanton sporting with the human life,
This trade in blood. Ye sages, then, review,
Speedy and diligent, the penal code,
Humanity's disgrace; our nation's first
And just reproach, amidst its vaunted boasts
Of equity and mercy:—Shiver not
Full oft your inmost souls, when from the bench
Ye deal out death tremendous; and proclaim
Th'irrevocable sentence on a wretch
Pluck'd early from the paths of social life,
And immature, to the low grave consign'd
For misdemeanors trivial! Runs not back,
Affrighted, to its fountain your chill'd blood,
When, deck'd in all the horrid pomp of death,
122
The weaker sex,—incredible—you doom;
Denouncing punishments the more severe,
As less of strength is found to bear their force?
Shame on the savage practice! Oh stand forth
In the great cause,—Compassion's, Equity's,
Your Nation's, Truth's, Religion's, Honour's cause,
—Stand forth, reflecting Eden ! Well thou'st toil'd
Already in the honourable field:
Might thy young labours animate, the hour
Auspicious is arriv'd. Sages esteem'd,
And venerably learn'd, as in the school
Of legal science, so in that of worth
And sentiment exalted, fill the bench:
And lo! the imperial Muscovite, intent
On public-weal, a bright example shines
Of civilizing justice. Sages rise:
The cause, the animating pattern calls.
Oh, I adjure you, with my parting breath,
By all your hopes of mercy and of peace,
By all the blood henceforth unjustly spilt,
Or wantonly by all the sorrows deep,
And scalding tears shed for that blood so spilt!
In God's tremendous name, lo, I adjure,
123
Important that you haste! With equal hand
In scales of temperate justice, balance well
The claims of pleading mercy! Unto crimes
Inflictions just and adequate assign;
On reformation or example sole,
And all impartial, constantly intent,
Banish the rage for blood! for tortures fell,
Savage, reproachful. Study to restore
Its young, its useful members to the state,
Well disciplin'd, corrected, moraliz'd;
Preserv'd at once from shame, from death, from Hell,
Men, rationals, immortals,—Sons of God.
Oh, prosperous be your labours, crown'd your zeal!
So shall the annals of our Sovereign's reign,
Distinguish'd by your virtue,—noble fruit
Of that high independence He bestow'd
So freely from the treasury of his love
To genuine justice—down to future times,
Transmitting the rich blessing, shine renown'd
With truest glory; not by hers surpass'd,
Th'immortal Legislator of the north!
Distinguish'd by your virtue,—noble fruit
Of that high independence He bestow'd
So freely from the treasury of his love
To genuine justice—down to future times,
Transmitting the rich blessing, shine renown'd
With truest glory; not by hers surpass'd,
Th'immortal Legislator of the north!
124
Ah me unhappy! to that Sovereign's ear
Resolv'd to bring those truths which, labouring long,
Have lain, and tost upon my anxious thoughts :
Thence too am I excluded! Fatal stroke,
And wounding to my peace! Rigour extreme
Of angry vengeance! “Nay, it recks not now,”
Oft, midst the tempest of my grief, I cried,
“It recks not now what falls me! From the house
“Of him I honour'd, shut! Him whose lov'd sire
“My muse in strains elegiac weeping sung ,
“Mixing her tribute with a nation's tears!
“Him to whose high-born race,—of liberty
“Firm friends and fautors—from my earliest youth,
“My heart, devoted, willing homage paid,
“And sacred reverence: So paternal love
“And so my college taught, delightful Clare!”
Dear ever to my memory for hours
In innocence and peaceful study past;
Nor less for thee, my friend, my Lancaster!
Blest youth, in early hour from this life's woes
In richest mercy borne! Had I but died,
Oh had I died for thee, how had I shunn'd
This harsh severity,—exclusion sad
From my lov'd royal master! how escap'd
Its ills attendant!—Reputation dies,
The darling of my soul, beneath the stroke!
Wild, wanton curses tear my mangled frame!
My sphere of usefulness contracted shrinks;
And infamy herself with “ghastly smiles”
My ruin ridicules! Turn, turn, my brain,
Distracted, madden'd, turn! Of reason more,
Religion, duty, eminence, dream not:
The door of mercy's clos'd. Thee—oft from thee
Mercy, sweet Heaven, have I sought and found;
From fellow-mortals seldom could I find,
How humbled e'er, or penitent, for faults!
—And who of erring mortals faultless breathes?
Mercy that gift of thine, which most adorns
The judge's vestment, and the monarch's crown.
Resolv'd to bring those truths which, labouring long,
Have lain, and tost upon my anxious thoughts :
Thence too am I excluded! Fatal stroke,
And wounding to my peace! Rigour extreme
Of angry vengeance! “Nay, it recks not now,”
Oft, midst the tempest of my grief, I cried,
“It recks not now what falls me! From the house
“Of him I honour'd, shut! Him whose lov'd sire
“My muse in strains elegiac weeping sung ,
“Mixing her tribute with a nation's tears!
“Him to whose high-born race,—of liberty
“Firm friends and fautors—from my earliest youth,
“My heart, devoted, willing homage paid,
“And sacred reverence: So paternal love
“And so my college taught, delightful Clare!”
Dear ever to my memory for hours
In innocence and peaceful study past;
Nor less for thee, my friend, my Lancaster!
Blest youth, in early hour from this life's woes
125
Oh had I died for thee, how had I shunn'd
This harsh severity,—exclusion sad
From my lov'd royal master! how escap'd
Its ills attendant!—Reputation dies,
The darling of my soul, beneath the stroke!
Wild, wanton curses tear my mangled frame!
My sphere of usefulness contracted shrinks;
And infamy herself with “ghastly smiles”
My ruin ridicules! Turn, turn, my brain,
Distracted, madden'd, turn! Of reason more,
Religion, duty, eminence, dream not:
The door of mercy's clos'd. Thee—oft from thee
Mercy, sweet Heaven, have I sought and found;
From fellow-mortals seldom could I find,
How humbled e'er, or penitent, for faults!
—And who of erring mortals faultless breathes?
Mercy that gift of thine, which most adorns
The judge's vestment, and the monarch's crown.
Adieu, then, to its hope; its earthly hope,
Elsewhere we'll seek it. Forth—oh forth, my friends;
My generous, supporting, weeping friends,
Forth from the bar conduct me. It is past.
Justice has done her office. Mercy's fled;
And smiling, lo! she sits upon a cloud
Of fleecy whiteness, ting'd with azur'd gold,
And beams ineffable composure on me!
Light sits my bosom'd master on his throne;
Airy and disencumber'd feels my soul;
And, panting, wishes to spring instant up
To that white cloud,—the golden vehicle
To realms of rest immortal! In my eyes,
So languid late, and all suffus'd with tears,
Methinks I see hope's lamp rekindled bright;
A living lustre; shedding like the sun,
After thick mists, Illumination's smile
O'er all my countenance, marr'd, dimm'd, and wan.
Elsewhere we'll seek it. Forth—oh forth, my friends;
My generous, supporting, weeping friends,
Forth from the bar conduct me. It is past.
Justice has done her office. Mercy's fled;
And smiling, lo! she sits upon a cloud
126
And beams ineffable composure on me!
Light sits my bosom'd master on his throne;
Airy and disencumber'd feels my soul;
And, panting, wishes to spring instant up
To that white cloud,—the golden vehicle
To realms of rest immortal! In my eyes,
So languid late, and all suffus'd with tears,
Methinks I see hope's lamp rekindled bright;
A living lustre; shedding like the sun,
After thick mists, Illumination's smile
O'er all my countenance, marr'd, dimm'd, and wan.
Cheerly, my friends, oh cheerly! Look not thus
With pity's melting softness! That alone
Can shake my fortitude. All is not lost.
Lo! I have gain'd, on this important day
A victory consummate o'er my self,
And o'er this life a victory. On this day,—
My birth-day to eternity—I've gain'd
Dismission from a world, where for a while,
Like you, like all, a pilgrim passing poor,
A traveller, a stranger, I have met
But stranger treatment, rude and harsh! So much
The dearer, more desir'd, the home I seek
Eternal of my Father and my God!
With pity's melting softness! That alone
Can shake my fortitude. All is not lost.
Lo! I have gain'd, on this important day
A victory consummate o'er my self,
And o'er this life a victory. On this day,—
My birth-day to eternity—I've gain'd
Dismission from a world, where for a while,
Like you, like all, a pilgrim passing poor,
A traveller, a stranger, I have met
But stranger treatment, rude and harsh! So much
The dearer, more desir'd, the home I seek
Eternal of my Father and my God!
127
Ah, little thought ye, prosecutors prompt,
To do me good like this! little intend
For earthly poverty to give th'exchange
Of wealth eternal! Cheronea's sage,
Thy dogmas here, so paradoxal deem'd
By weak half-thinkers —see, how amply prov'd,
How verisify'd by men I judg'd my foes;—
Friends in disguise, Heaven's instruments of good!
Freely, triumphantly, my soul forgives
Each injury, each evil they have wrought,
Each tear they've drawn, each groan they've cost my heart,
Guiltless tow'rds them, uninjur'd. Hapless men!
Down do I look, with pity: fervent beg,
And unremitting from all-gracious Heaven
Eternal blessings on you! Be your lives,
Like mine, true convertites to grace, to God!
And be your deaths,—ah, there all difference ends—
Then be our deaths like his, th'atoning just;
Like his, the only righteous, our last end!
To do me good like this! little intend
For earthly poverty to give th'exchange
Of wealth eternal! Cheronea's sage,
Thy dogmas here, so paradoxal deem'd
By weak half-thinkers —see, how amply prov'd,
How verisify'd by men I judg'd my foes;—
Friends in disguise, Heaven's instruments of good!
Freely, triumphantly, my soul forgives
Each injury, each evil they have wrought,
Each tear they've drawn, each groan they've cost my heart,
Guiltless tow'rds them, uninjur'd. Hapless men!
Down do I look, with pity: fervent beg,
And unremitting from all-gracious Heaven
Eternal blessings on you! Be your lives,
Like mine, true convertites to grace, to God!
And be your deaths,—ah, there all difference ends—
Then be our deaths like his, th'atoning just;
Like his, the only righteous, our last end!
But oh, oblivious memory! baneful woe,
Which thus in dull forgetfulness can steep
My faculties;—forgetfulness of her
My better self, for whom alone I wish,
Thus fall'n, to remember that I am!
My wife, my soul's dear partner in distress,
Where sits she? lives she? Ah not lives, but drags
The tedious, torturing, horrid, anxious hours
Of this dire day!—In solemn silence wrapt,
—Expressive silence motionless, compos'd,
The melancholy mourner meekly waits
The awful issue! From her lovely eyes
Drops not a tear! not ev'n a sigh is heard
From her deep-wounded heart: Nor through her lips,
Unsever'd from the luckless morn till night,
Mute sufferer, steals a murmur ! Gentle dove,
So, in the mournful absence of thy mate,
Perhaps or levell'd by the fowler's art,
Or lur'd in net insidious, sittest thou alone
Upon the bared bough; thy little head
Nestling beneath thy silvery wings; while hang
Thy pennons, late so glossy, shivering down
Unplum'd, neglected, drooping! Thro' the day
So tried, my tender friends,—another task,
And heavier yet, remains to be perform'd.
Oh, with the balm of comfort, with the voice
Of soothing softness, the sad truth unfold!
Approach the beauteous mourner, all-rever'd;
And tell her, “that her husband triumphs, lives;—
“Lives tho' condemn'd; lives to a nobler life!
“Nor, in the gladsome view of that high life,
“Feels he to death reluctance: Blest with her,
“Indifferent in his choice to live or die!”
Which thus in dull forgetfulness can steep
My faculties;—forgetfulness of her
128
Thus fall'n, to remember that I am!
My wife, my soul's dear partner in distress,
Where sits she? lives she? Ah not lives, but drags
The tedious, torturing, horrid, anxious hours
Of this dire day!—In solemn silence wrapt,
—Expressive silence motionless, compos'd,
The melancholy mourner meekly waits
The awful issue! From her lovely eyes
Drops not a tear! not ev'n a sigh is heard
From her deep-wounded heart: Nor through her lips,
Unsever'd from the luckless morn till night,
Mute sufferer, steals a murmur ! Gentle dove,
So, in the mournful absence of thy mate,
Perhaps or levell'd by the fowler's art,
Or lur'd in net insidious, sittest thou alone
Upon the bared bough; thy little head
Nestling beneath thy silvery wings; while hang
Thy pennons, late so glossy, shivering down
Unplum'd, neglected, drooping! Thro' the day
So tried, my tender friends,—another task,
And heavier yet, remains to be perform'd.
Oh, with the balm of comfort, with the voice
129
Approach the beauteous mourner, all-rever'd;
And tell her, “that her husband triumphs, lives;—
“Lives tho' condemn'd; lives to a nobler life!
“Nor, in the gladsome view of that high life,
“Feels he to death reluctance: Blest with her,
“Indifferent in his choice to live or die!”
Be the decision, thine, Father of life!
Thou gavest, thou hast right to take away;
In each alike beneficent! If thou
Hast pleasure in me, once more shall I share
Thy hallow'd services, my heart's chief joy;
If not with happy David—oh like his
Could my song flow repentant—every thought
Uniting cries with resignation's voice,
“Do with me, Lord, as it shall seem Thee good !”
Thou gavest, thou hast right to take away;
In each alike beneficent! If thou
Hast pleasure in me, once more shall I share
Thy hallow'd services, my heart's chief joy;
If not with happy David—oh like his
Could my song flow repentant—every thought
Uniting cries with resignation's voice,
“Do with me, Lord, as it shall seem Thee good !”
Thus supplicating, down my weary head
To slumber on its wretched pillow sunk,
O'erpower'd, oppress'd. Nor on the main-mast high
Rock'd by the bellowing tempest, and the dash
Of furious surges, the poor ship-boy sleeps
More soundly, than my powers o'erwrought, amidst
The din of desperate felons, and the roar
Of harden'd guilt's mad midnight orgies loud!
To slumber on its wretched pillow sunk,
O'erpower'd, oppress'd. Nor on the main-mast high
Rock'd by the bellowing tempest, and the dash
Of furious surges, the poor ship-boy sleeps
More soundly, than my powers o'erwrought, amidst
130
Of harden'd guilt's mad midnight orgies loud!
But, fancy free, the busy soul was wake;
Anticipation pleasing of its state,
When sleeps its clayey prison in the grave,
And forth it bursts to liberty! Methought
—Such was the vision—in a lowly vale
Myself I found, whose living green was deck'd
With all the beauteous family of Spring;
Pale primrose, modest violet, hare-bell blue,
Sweet-scented eglantine of fragrance rich,
And permanent the rose: golden jonquil,
And polyanthus variegate of hue,
With lilies dale-delighting. Thro' the midst
Meandering of pure crystal flow'd a stream
The flowery banks reflecting: On each side,
With homely cots adorn'd, whose 'habitants,
When sorrow-sunk, my voice of comfort sooth'd;
When sickness-worn, my hand of care reliev'd,
Tended, and, ministering to all their wants,
Instructed in the language of the skies.
Dear was the office, cheering was the toil,
And something like angelic felt my soul!
Anticipation pleasing of its state,
When sleeps its clayey prison in the grave,
And forth it bursts to liberty! Methought
—Such was the vision—in a lowly vale
Myself I found, whose living green was deck'd
With all the beauteous family of Spring;
Pale primrose, modest violet, hare-bell blue,
Sweet-scented eglantine of fragrance rich,
And permanent the rose: golden jonquil,
And polyanthus variegate of hue,
With lilies dale-delighting. Thro' the midst
Meandering of pure crystal flow'd a stream
The flowery banks reflecting: On each side,
With homely cots adorn'd, whose 'habitants,
When sorrow-sunk, my voice of comfort sooth'd;
When sickness-worn, my hand of care reliev'd,
Tended, and, ministering to all their wants,
Instructed in the language of the skies.
Dear was the office, cheering was the toil,
And something like angelic felt my soul!
When lur'd, methought, by one of glittering hue
(Bright gleam'd the coronet upon his brow,
Rich glow'd his robe of crimson, ermine deck'd)
I toil'd to gain a neighbouring mountain's top,
Where blaz'd preferment's temple. So my guide
With smile complacent taught and led me on,
Softening with artful speech the tedious way,
And arduous ever. As I rose, the view
Still gloomier seem'd, and dreary; the strait path
Still straiter, and more sharp the pointed briars
Entangling! With insulting sneers the crowd,
Pressing the same bad road, jostled me by,
Or threw me prostrate: till fatigued and faint,
With feeble voice, exhausted quite, I cried,
“Oh to my vale restore me! to my cots,
“Illustrious guide! my ministrations blest,
“Angelical and blessing!”—With a look
Of killing scorn he eyed me: Instant down,
Precipitate dash'd o'er me craggy rocks,
Tumbling tumultuous; and in dungeon dark,
Illumin'd only by the furious glare
Of lynx and tygers eyes, thro' hunger fierce,
And eager to devour, trembling I lay!
(Bright gleam'd the coronet upon his brow,
131
I toil'd to gain a neighbouring mountain's top,
Where blaz'd preferment's temple. So my guide
With smile complacent taught and led me on,
Softening with artful speech the tedious way,
And arduous ever. As I rose, the view
Still gloomier seem'd, and dreary; the strait path
Still straiter, and more sharp the pointed briars
Entangling! With insulting sneers the crowd,
Pressing the same bad road, jostled me by,
Or threw me prostrate: till fatigued and faint,
With feeble voice, exhausted quite, I cried,
“Oh to my vale restore me! to my cots,
“Illustrious guide! my ministrations blest,
“Angelical and blessing!”—With a look
Of killing scorn he eyed me: Instant down,
Precipitate dash'd o'er me craggy rocks,
Tumbling tumultuous; and in dungeon dark,
Illumin'd only by the furious glare
Of lynx and tygers eyes, thro' hunger fierce,
And eager to devour, trembling I lay!
When, in a moment, thro' the dungeon's gloom
Burst light resplendent as the mid-day sun,
From adamantine shield of Heavenly proof,
Held high by one , of more than human port,
Advancing slow; while on his tow'ring crest
Sat fortitude unshaken: At his feet
Crouch'd the half-famish'd savages! From earth
He rais'd me, weeping, and with look of peace
Benignant, pointed to a crimson cross
On his bright shield pourtray'd. A milder form,
Yet of celestial sweetness,—such as oft
My raptur'd eyes have in the tablet trac'd
Of unaffected penitence; of her
Pleasing similitude—the weeping fair
Early from royal, but unhallow'd love,
To God's sole service flying —Fam'd Le Brun,
Thy glowing pencil's master-piece!—Such seem'd
Repentance, meek approaching. From the den,
Illumin'd and defended by faith's shield,
My trembling feet she led; and having borne
Thro' perils infinite, and terrors wild
And various,—fainting almost my sick soul—
She left me at a gate of glittering gold,
Which open'd instantaneous at the touch
Of homely porter , clad in wolsey grey;
And ever bending lowly to the ground
His modest countenance! But what a scene
—Admitted thro' the portal—on my sight
Transported, rush'd! High on a sapphire throne,
Amidst a flame like carbuncle, sat Love,
Beaming forth living rays of light and joy
On choral crowds of spirits infinite,
In immortality and glory cloth'd;
And hymning lofty strains to minstrelsy
Of golden harps accorded, in his praise,
Love, uncreate, essential; Love, which bled;
Which bleeding blanch'd to purest white their robes,
And with eternal gold adorn'd their brows!
Burst light resplendent as the mid-day sun,
From adamantine shield of Heavenly proof,
Held high by one , of more than human port,
132
Sat fortitude unshaken: At his feet
Crouch'd the half-famish'd savages! From earth
He rais'd me, weeping, and with look of peace
Benignant, pointed to a crimson cross
On his bright shield pourtray'd. A milder form,
Yet of celestial sweetness,—such as oft
My raptur'd eyes have in the tablet trac'd
Of unaffected penitence; of her
Pleasing similitude—the weeping fair
Early from royal, but unhallow'd love,
To God's sole service flying —Fam'd Le Brun,
Thy glowing pencil's master-piece!—Such seem'd
Repentance, meek approaching. From the den,
Illumin'd and defended by faith's shield,
My trembling feet she led; and having borne
Thro' perils infinite, and terrors wild
And various,—fainting almost my sick soul—
She left me at a gate of glittering gold,
Which open'd instantaneous at the touch
Of homely porter , clad in wolsey grey;
And ever bending lowly to the ground
His modest countenance! But what a scene
133
Transported, rush'd! High on a sapphire throne,
Amidst a flame like carbuncle, sat Love,
Beaming forth living rays of light and joy
On choral crowds of spirits infinite,
In immortality and glory cloth'd;
And hymning lofty strains to minstrelsy
Of golden harps accorded, in his praise,
Love, uncreate, essential; Love, which bled;
Which bleeding blanch'd to purest white their robes,
And with eternal gold adorn'd their brows!
Dissolv'd, methought, and all my senses rapt
In vision beatific, to a bank
Of purple amaranthus was I borne
By a superior genius. His white wings
Distilling panacea, dove-like spread
Refreshing fragrance o'er me: Firm of brow
And masculine he seem'd—th'ennobling power
Angelic, destin'd in the human heart
To nourish friendship's flame! Uprais'd my eyes
As from a trance returning—“Spirit belov'd,
“And honour'd ever!” anxious strait I cried,
“Thrice welcome to my wishes! Oh impart—
“For you can tell—in these delightful realms
“Of happiness supernal, shall we know,—
“Say, shall we meet and know those dearest friends,
“Those tender relatives, to whose concerns
“You minister appointed? Shall we meet
“In mutual amity? mutual converse hold,
“And live in love immortal?—Oh relieve
“My aching heart's solicitude; and say,
“Here shall I meet, here know, in boundless bliss,
“Here view transported, her, my life's best friend,
“My sorrows faithful soother!”—Gushing tears
Impetuous stopp'd my voice; and I awoke
To earth, to night, to darkness, and a jail!
In vision beatific, to a bank
Of purple amaranthus was I borne
By a superior genius. His white wings
Distilling panacea, dove-like spread
Refreshing fragrance o'er me: Firm of brow
And masculine he seem'd—th'ennobling power
Angelic, destin'd in the human heart
To nourish friendship's flame! Uprais'd my eyes
As from a trance returning—“Spirit belov'd,
“And honour'd ever!” anxious strait I cried,
“Thrice welcome to my wishes! Oh impart—
“For you can tell—in these delightful realms
“Of happiness supernal, shall we know,—
134
“Those tender relatives, to whose concerns
“You minister appointed? Shall we meet
“In mutual amity? mutual converse hold,
“And live in love immortal?—Oh relieve
“My aching heart's solicitude; and say,
“Here shall I meet, here know, in boundless bliss,
“Here view transported, her, my life's best friend,
“My sorrows faithful soother!”—Gushing tears
Impetuous stopp'd my voice; and I awoke
To earth, to night, to darkness, and a jail!
April 14, 1777.
END OF THE FOURTH WEEK.
The verses subjoined were written by the King of Prussia, after a defeat, when one of his general officers had proposed to set him the example of self-destruction:
Dans ces jours, pleins d'alarmes,
La constance et la fermeté
Sont les bouchers et les armes
Que j'opppose á l'adversitè:
Que le Destin me persecute,
Qu'il prepare ou hâte ma chute,
Le danger ne peut m'ebranler:
Quand le vulgaire est plein de crainte,
Que l'esperance semble eteinte,
L'homme fort doit se signaler.
La constance et la fermeté
Sont les bouchers et les armes
Que j'opppose á l'adversitè:
Que le Destin me persecute,
Qu'il prepare ou hâte ma chute,
Le danger ne peut m'ebranler:
Quand le vulgaire est plein de crainte,
Que l'esperance semble eteinte,
L'homme fort doit se signaler.
A friend having given Dr. Dodd in prison a copy of these lines, he was much pleased with them, and immediately paraphrased them as follows:
In these sad moments of severe distress,
When dangers threaten, and when sorrows press,
For my defence behold what arms are given—
Firmness of soul, and confidence in Heaven!
With these, tho' Fortune hunt me thro' the land,
Tho' instant, utter ruin seem at hand,
Compos'd and self-collected I remain,
Nor start at perils, nor of ills complain.
To mean despair the low, the servile fly,
When Hope's bright star seems darken'd in their sky:
Then shines the Christian, and delights to prove
His faith unshaken, and unchang'd his love!
When dangers threaten, and when sorrows press,
For my defence behold what arms are given—
Firmness of soul, and confidence in Heaven!
With these, tho' Fortune hunt me thro' the land,
Tho' instant, utter ruin seem at hand,
Compos'd and self-collected I remain,
Nor start at perils, nor of ills complain.
To mean despair the low, the servile fly,
When Hope's bright star seems darken'd in their sky:
Then shines the Christian, and delights to prove
His faith unshaken, and unchang'd his love!
Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quæ
Ipse sibi tradit Spectator!
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quæ
Ipse sibi tradit Spectator!
Hor.
So praysen babes the peacock's starry traine,
And wondren at bright Argus' blazing eye;
But who rewards him e'er the more for thy?
Or feeds him once the fuller by a graine?—
Sike praise is smoke, that sheddeth in the skie,
Sike words been winde, and wasten soon in vaine.
And wondren at bright Argus' blazing eye;
But who rewards him e'er the more for thy?
Or feeds him once the fuller by a graine?—
Sike praise is smoke, that sheddeth in the skie,
Sike words been winde, and wasten soon in vaine.
Spenser.
He intended to have established a “Charity for the Loan of Money, without interest, to industrious tradesmen.” Necessary papers for that end were collected from Dublin, &c. and the following address, which he wrote and inserted in the Public Ledger of the 1st January, 1776, will, in some measure, explain his purpose:
To the Wealthy in the Commercial World.
I HAVE often wished most sincerely to see a charitable fund established in this great and trading city, for the beneficent purpose of “lending to honest and industrious Tradesmen “small sums without interest, and on a reasonable security.”
The benefits which would arise from such an establishment are too obvious to need enumeration. Almost every newspaper tends more and more to convince me of the necessity of such a plan; for in almost every news-paper we read Advertisements from Tradesmen, soliciting little sums in their distress; and offering—poor unhappy men! even premiums for those little sums.
It is not possible but that persons occupied in trade and commerce must feel for the difficulties of their brethren, and be ready to promote the undertaking I would wish to recommend, although on no interested motives;—for I am no tradesman, nor can any way be benefitted by the plan. Pure good-will, and a compassionate respect to the hardships and distresses of my fellow-creatures actuate my heart: And from these motives, I shall be happy to proceed upon, and prosecute this plan, with all the efforts and assiduity I am able, if it shall be approved by the benevolent, and they will testify that approbation, and desire of concurrence, by a line directed to D. at Anderton's Coffee house, Fleet-street. In consequence of which, should a probability of success appear, a meeting shall speedily be advertised in the papers, and all measures pursued to put the good design into immediate execution, which on such a meeting may be judged adviseable. It may be proper just to observe, that in many cities abroad,—at Rome in particular,—there are institutions of this sort: and there has been one established for many years at Dublin, which is found productive of the happiest consequences.
It is made in scripture one characteristic of the good man, “that he is merciful and lendeth:” and a very small sum, thus given to a permanent establishment, may enable a man to lend for perpetuity!
How can we better begin the new year, my worthy and humane countrymen, than by entering on a work, which may draw down upon us God's blessing, by our charitable relief to many sons and daughters of honest and laborious industry?—
Humanity.“A plan for a National Female Seminary”—since found amongst the Author's papers; and which appears to have undergone the inspection, and received the approbation of some very distinguished names.
Horace's precept must for ever stand forth as irrefragably just:
------ “Adsit
Regula! peccatis quæ pœnas irroget æquas:
Ne Scutica dignum horribili sectêre flagello.”
Regula! peccatis quæ pœnas irroget æquas:
Ne Scutica dignum horribili sectêre flagello.”
Sat. 3. Lib. 1.
“He had sometimes expressed his thoughts about our penal laws, that they were too sanguinary;—that they were against not only the laws of God, but of nature;—that his own case was hard, that he should die for an act which he always declared to be wrong, but by which he never intended to injure any one individual; and that, as the public had forgiven him, he thought he might have been pardoned. But now (the day before his execution) he laid all these thoughts touching himself aside, though he continued to think in the same manner of the penal laws to his end.” See the Ordinary's account.’
Referring to the independence of the judges, settled by the King, as almost one of the first acts of his reign.
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