University of Virginia Library

HUMAN LIFE.

Life! we do wrong, when we at times affect
To blacken thee with scoff of disrespect,
And o'er all universal life to throw
The shadowy mantle of our proper woe!
And who is there that ever yet was born,
That hath not with unwise rash reckless scorn,
Rejected some fair proffered happiness—
Where with indulgent Heaven, his Soul would bless,
And clung to some chimæra, weak and vain,
Only because 'twas gendered by his brain!
Far less of joy containing—less of bliss,
Still chosen, cherished, clung to, but for this;
But for the senseless and the stubborn sake,
Of that proud Will, which doth not deign to take
Blessings as they are offered—and displayed
Before the Soul, whose weak election's made!—
Blessings poured round with an unsparing hand,
No! 'twould its own vain phantasies command!
Alas! how oft is this the truth, how oft
We ask of distant severed worlds to waft
That Happiness which still is at our side,
Knocking at our closed hearts of sullen pride,
And asking for admittance, but in vain,
We chase her thence, then impiously complain!
Such happiness must be rejected still,
If not the happiness of stubborn Will,
Our tyrant taskmaster, that bars repose,
And grinds us to the dust with cares and woes,
And thus we court some vain and aëry dream,
Some unsubstantial and fantastic scheme;
While Heaven-sent happiness dwells hovering near,
A lovely suppliant, scorned too rashly here,
Refused, rejected, with her priceless stores,
Though gently knocking at our very doors,
Imploring for admittance—but in vain;
While still we chase her thence, and still complain.
The brain-born mockery of our cherished scheme,
The shadowy triumph of our favourite dream,
Which we so fondly to our hearts would clasp,
Slips from our hold, and slides from our foiled grasp—
And then, how long and bitterly we rail
'Gainst Life and Fate, and do affect to scale
Their heights, and sound their depths, and then to show
That all is falsehood, hopelessness, and woe,
That all is useless toil and vainest care,
All—doubt and disappointment and despair.
Oh! 'tis a false, false part we dare to play,
And all is false we do or think or say;
First we deceive ourselves, and then we try
To mislead others as deceitfully.
Should we not rather seek,—through mercy spared,—
To warn the rest from dangers we have dared,
To own—Oh! Life! how we have wronged thee still,
And to confess ourselves of thy worst ill
The senseless Authors—stubborn, weak, and vain,
The fools of our own over-working brain,
That miscreates Creation—and doth spread
O'er all things one night-shadow, dark and dread,
And in itself a Chaos—makes appear
All else a Chaos-waste of Fate and Fear.
Yes! let us give the experience we have earned,
And let us teach the lessons we have learned,
To our poor faultering Brethren of the dust,
And be to Life, and these, our Brethren, just!
Haply in this good work engaged, no more
The sport of wayward fancies as before,
Still, seeking others' Happiness to ensure,
Their bliss to frame, their triumph to secure,
We may learn things we ne'er before have known,
Opening our long sealed bosoms to our own!