 | A Muse in Livery |  |
The GUARDIAN ANGEL.
I.
The sun had now withdrawn his glim'ring beams,And bluish mists began to rise
From the low vales, and from the cooling streams,
A pleasing stillness by degrees came on;
And not one single breeze,
With the least wave disturb'd the silent trees:
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And all the winged quire to rest were gone.
Soft hushing murmurs issu'd from the floods,
Eccho lay dead in all the silent woods:
Nature herself was hush'd, and seem'd to stand
Attentive, listening to some great command.
II.
The lovely prospect charm'd me out alone,A pleasing contemplation led me on:
Wrap'd in extatick thought I rove,
And view the solemn scene,
All silent and serene,
Nor stopp'd, 'till in the middle of a Grove:
A gloomy grove, whose awful shade,
By rocks impervious, and thick branches made,
A mixture of delight and horror had.
Admiring here, with mute surprize,
Nature's inexplicable prodigies;
Sudden, a dismal grone I hear,
And mournful sighs succeeding wound mine ear.
Softly advancing tow'rds the doleful sound,
I spy'd, beneath a spreading oak,
Stretch'd on the naked ground,
A youth, whose grief profound,
His heaving breast and troubled motions spoke.
III.
Compassion in my breast arose.Methought I felt his woes!
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And gushing tears surprize,
With sympathetick grief, my trickling eyes.
A settled sorrow dwelt upon his look;
Distress, and dire despair,
O'erwhelm his soul with anxious care:
A smother'd discontent,
Was in his throbbing bosom pent:
And hopeless quite of all relief,
Stupid he seem'd, with silent grief,
'Till thus, at last, to ease his lab'ring mind, he spoke.
IV.
“Ye Gods! and must I thus for ever live?“Will no kind power my woes relieve?
“Helpless, forlorn, abandon'd to despair,
“A hopeless wretch I wander here;
“Expos'd to penury and want,
“A poor unhappy mendicant,
“To whom no pitying hand vouchsafes relief,
“No pitying eye looks down upon my grief.
“What have I done? ye cruel powers,
“Who guide this strange, unequal world of ours!
“What have I done? that on my destin'd head,
“Your wrath thus heavy falls, your choicest plagues are shed?
V.
“Oh! was it not enough to make me poor?“Why must this curse be still augmented more?
“Why, but to finish me a wretch, was join'd
“To such a narrow fate, a boundless mind?
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“Had you but made my mind so too,
“A chearful life I might have led,
“With pleasure lab'ring for my daily bread,
“But, O perverse! you in my mind have plac'd
“A relish of those joys,
“From virtue, truth, and knowledge which arise,
“Yet cruelly deny'd me power to taste.
“In hell 'tis thus
“With wretched Tantalus:
“Fair apples tempt his lips, yet from them fly;
“Clearstreams provoke his thirst, yet leave him dry.
“But I, more wretched, even from my birth,
“Endure this hell, am tantaliz'd on earth.
“Learning's clear streams my thirst invite;
“The tree of knowledge grows within my sight;
“But when I beg to drink, or taste the fruit,
“Not having where withal
“To pay for what I call,
“In vain I ask, I'm forc'd to cease my suit.
VI.
“And must it thus, ye Gods, for ever be?“Will no kind power extend its arm to me?
“For ever must I thus remain a slave;
“O rather send me quickly to the grave.
“What pleasure can I have, what joy in life!
“Surrounded thus with poverty and want;
“My high desires with my low fate at strife,
“Those still desiring what this cannot grant.
“O why is this my fate?
“This very worst estate!
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“Should I, was any one to favour me,
“Or undeserving or ungrateful be?
“Riches corrupt the mind, I grant;
“But a small competence is all I want;
“Would this my virtue taint?
“Oh! if it would, if you're appriz'd of this,
“Still let my fate be wretched as it is:
“But if 'twould only furnish me with power,
“T' encrease my knowledge and my virtue more;
“If this appears, without disguise,
“As sure it does to your all-seeing eyes,
“The genuine motive of my small petition,
“O grant my suit, ye Gods, and mend my poor condition!
VII.
He ceas'd; and lo! a sudden lightShot smiling thro' the gloom, dispers'd the shades of night;
The rocks and trees around with brightness shone,
Brightness before unknown!
Cœlestial fragancies perfume the air;
All shew the presence of some angel there.
And now before his wondring eyes,
A heavenly form descends, and gently bids him rise:
Charm'd with the sound,
Trembling he rises from the ground,
Quick beats his heart with new-born hopes and joys.
Raising his head, at once his raptur'd sight
Is struck with awe, and ravish'd with delight!
Surprising dignity, majestick grace;
With smiling sweetness mix'd, adorns her face.
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Cœlestial virtues dart their glories from within.
A kind benevolence, a heavenly love,
With gen'rous pity in her bosom move.
Goodness divine appear'd in every look,
And thus, with grace ineffable, she spoke.
VIII.
“Blame not the Gods, young man, for what they've done,“Their dispensations, tho' to you unknown,
“Are doubtless just: besides, thou canst not see
“What they may yet design for thee;
“Virtue is certainly their care,
“If thou art truely so, no more despair;
“Behold, thy Guardian Angel here.
She spoke, and darted shining thro' the wood,
The youth transported, in amazement stood.
And now beneath her care he lives at ease,
His present wants supply'd,
Nor future hopes deny'd,
His anxious troubles cease,
His griefs subside in peace;
And all his care for blessings such as these,
Is how, with gratitude enough, to honour, serve, and please.
| A Muse in Livery | |