Poems by the Late Reverend Dr. Thomas Blacklock Together with an Essay on the Education of the Blind. To Which is Prefixed A New Account of the Life and Writings of the Author |
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To a Young Gentleman bound for Guinea.
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | Poems by the Late Reverend Dr. Thomas Blacklock |  |
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To a Young Gentleman bound for Guinea.
An ODE.
I
Attend the muse, whose numbers flowFaithful to sacred friendship's woe;
And let the Scotian lyre
Obtain thy pity and thy care:
While thy lov'd walks and native air.
The solemn sounds inspire.
II
That native air, these walks, no moreBlest with their fav'rite, now deplore,
And join the plaintive strain:
While, urg'd by winds and waves, he flies,
Where unknown stars, thro' unknown skies,
Their trackless course maintain.
III
Yet think: by ev'ry keener smart,That thrills a friend or brother's heart;
By all the griefs that rise,
And with dumb anguish heave thy breast,
When absence robs thy soul of rest,
And swells with tears the eyes:
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IV
By all our sorrows ever new,Think whom you fly, and what pursue;
And judge by your's our pain:
From friendship's dear tenacious arms,
You fly, perhaps, to war's alarms,
To angry skies and main.
V
The smiling plain, the solemn shade,With all the various charms display'd,
That summer's face adorn;
Summer, with all that's gay or sweet,
With transport longs thy sense to meet,
And courts thy dear return.
VI
The gentle sun, the fanning gale,The vocal wood, the fragrant vale,
Thy presence all implore:
Can then a waste of sea and sky,
That knows no limits, charm thine eye,
Thine year the tempest's roar?
VII
But why such weak attractions name,While ev'ry warmer social claim
Demands the mournful lay?
Ah! hear a brother's moving sighs,
Thro' tears, behold a sister's eyes
Emit a faded ray.
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VIII
Thy young allies, by nature taughtTo feel the tender pang of thought,
Which friends in absence claim;
To thee, with sorrow all-sincere,
Oft pay the tributary tear,
Oft lisp with joy thy name.
IX
Nor these thy absence mourn alone,O dearly lov'd! tho' faintly known;
One yet unsung remains:
Nature, when scarce fair light he knew,
Snatch'd heav'n, earth, beauty from his view,
And darkness round him reigns.
X
The muse with pity view'd his doom;And, darting thro' th' eternal gloom
An intellectual ray,
Bade him with music's voice inspire
The plaintive flute, the sprightly lyre,
And tune th' impassion'd lay.
XI
Thus, tho' despairing of relief,With ev'ry mark of heart-felt grief,
Thy absence we complain:
While now, perhaps, th' auspicious gale
Invites to spread the flying sail;
And all our tears are vain.
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XII
Protect him heav'n: but hence each fear;Since endless goodness, endless care
This mighty fabric guides;
Commands the tempest where to stray,
Directs the lightning's slanting way,
And rules the refluent tides.
XIII
See, from th' effulgence of his reign,With pleas'd survey, Omniscience deign
Thy wondrous worth to view:
See, from the realms of endless day,
Immortal guardians wing their way,
And all thy steps pursue.
XIV
If sable clouds, whose wombs containThe murm'ring bolt, or dashing rain,
The blue serene deform;
Myriads from heav'n's etherial height,
Shall clear the gloom, restore the light,
And chace th' impending storm.
| Poems by the Late Reverend Dr. Thomas Blacklock | |