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Malvern Hills

with Minor Poems, and Essays. By Joseph Cottle. Fourth Edition

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DESTINY.
  
  
  
  
  
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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
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 VII. 
 VIII. 
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DESTINY.

I

WAS it for a few short hours
Of fancied joys, but real pain,
That man was giv'n his lofty powers,
And made to drag affliction's chain?
Man! who with a daring eye
Can count the etherial worlds of fire,
Or, gazing at earth's tempests, cry,
I heed you not! — can then retire—
To his own Mind, and there converse
With himself, an universe!

161

II

Vain and impotent conceit,
Which Vice may cherish, Virtue dread!
A low and gentle whisper sweet,
Bids us raise our drooping head;
Bids us prize our highest boast,
A future hope, that friend to care,
And respect ourselves the most
Of all in earth, or sea, or air;
Striving for a prize so high,
Our immortal destiny.

III

Fair and tranquil is the scene,
The shadowy wood, the meadow gay:
The azure sky, the ocean green;
But these will quickly fade away:
For, like the sun, that, in the morn,
Rises full and fair to view,
Man with flattering hope is born,
And all is bright, as all is new:
But soon the fairy landscape flies,
And the whirlwind sweeps the skies.

IV

If life be but an April day,
Where pleasure at a distance sings;
If manhood, and if youth display
But airy forms, and shadowy things;
Yet let us, whilst the clouds o'ercast
Our prospect, think with rapture true
That if our joys a moment last,
Fleeting are our sorrows too;
Joys and sorrows soon will lie,
In oblivion silently!

162

V

Why was consciousness bestow'd,
Of the beautiful and chaste?
Why, beside life's rugged road,
Fruit, to charm, but not to taste?
Why have feelings fired the breast
Of purity, and worth refined,
By Fancy in her dreams carest,
Which we may seek, but never find?
Faith, in silence, casts her eye
To man's future destiny.

VI

Then let the storms of sorrow rave,
Let the lurid lightnings blaze,
Let Dismay her banners wave,
And few and sad be mortal days!
Soaring on Religion's pinion,
This shall chase misfortune's night;
And, whilst we grope through earth's dominion,
Yield a pure, and constant light.
Fill'd with transport we may cry,
Speed, oh speed our destiny!