The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes |
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The Indian Philosopher.
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 | The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. |  |
The Indian Philosopher.
September 3, 1701.
TO MR. HENRY BENDISH
August 24, 1705.
I
Why should our joys transform to pain?Why gentle Hymen's silken chain
A plague of iron prove?
Bendish, 'tis strange the charm that binds
Millions of hands, should leave their minds
At such a loose from love.
477
II
In vain I sought the wondrous cause,Rang'd the wide fields of nature's laws,
And urg'd the schools in vain;
Then deep in thought, within my breast
My soul retir'd, and slumber dress'd
A bright instructive scene.
III
O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide,On fancy's airy horse I ride,
(Sweet rapture of the mind!)
Till on the banks of Ganges' flood,
In a tall ancient grove I stood
For sacred use design'd.
IV
Hard by, a venerable priest,Ris'n with his god, the sun, from rest,
Awoke his morning song;
Thrice he conjur'd the murmuring stream:
The birth of souls was all his theme,
And half divine his tongue.
V
He sang—‘Th'eternal rolling flame,‘That vital mass, that still the same
‘Does all our minds compose:
‘But shap'd in twice ten thousand frames;
‘Thence diff'ring souls of diff'ring names,
‘And jarring tempests rose.
VI
‘The mighty power that form'd the mind‘One mould for every two design'd,
‘And bless the new-born pair:
‘This be a match for this:’ He said,
‘Then down he sent the souls he made,
‘To seek them bodies here:
VII
‘But parting from their warm abode‘They lost their fellows on the road,
‘And never join'd their hands:
‘Ah cruel chance, and crossing fates!
‘Our eastern souls have dropt their mates
‘On Europe's barbarous lands.
VIII
‘Happy the youth that finds the bride‘Whose birth is to his own ally'd,
‘The sweetest joy of life:
‘But oh the crowds of wretched souls
‘Fetter'd to minds of different moulds,
‘And chain'd t'eternal strife!’
IX
Thus sang the wondrous Indian bard;My soul with vast attention heard,
While Ganges ceas'd to flow:
‘Sure then,’ I cry'd, ‘might I but see
‘That gentle nymph that twinn'd with me,
‘I may be happy too.
X
‘Some courteous angel, tell me where,‘What distant lands this unknown fair,
‘Or distant seas detain?
‘Swift as the wheel of nature rolls
‘I'd fly, to meet, and mingle souls,
‘And wear the joyful chain.’
| The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. | |