Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

O thou, whose voice the willing muse obeys,
Whose taste illumines, and whose counsel sways,
While drawn by thee from Fancy's flight I toil
Slowly on Reason's unpoetic soil,
Deign to receive the graver truths among
Some flow'rs ungather'd by the sons of song!

Lo! where in gentle slumbers hush'd to rest
The babe lies pillow'd on the mother's breast;

Say, can the sage with just precision trace
The dawn of genius beaming on the face;
Yet immature the future powers behold,
As in th'aurelia's veil the wing of gold?
No, ere the thoughts collected and combin'd
Have shed their early seeds upon the mind,
To the dull form attention turns in vain,
Blank is the volume of the infant's brain:
What though the embryo, ere produc'd to light,
Thrill'd with faint pain, and glow'd with soft delight,
Yet these no certain signature impart
To character the mind, or mark the heart;
Gently they breathe upon the face and die,
Nor leave a lasting image for the eye;
But when the touch the nervous network spreads
Fine as th'aërial spider's filmy threads,
When to the light the rolling eyeball turns,
When the moist tongue the nurt'ring food discerns,
When the stun'd babe starts from the stranger sound,
That vibrates on the nerves sonorous round;

Or, when a mother's accent strikes the ear,
Bends his soft neck each whisper'd note to hear;
Or when the organs of the smell inhale
The fine effluvia of the passing gale,
Shrink from the pain the noxious vapours bring,
Or open to the fragrance of the spring;
The passive soul the mix'd impression takes,
The ideas kindle as each sense awakes.
To the dull scenes of the substantial earth
The shadowy broods of fancy owe their birth,
And from material images combin'd
Works the creative energy of mind:
Hence, or the habit of prevailing thought,
Or finer sense with keen perception fraught,
Directs the genius with superior sway,
Touch'd by its impulse moves the muscles play,
Its plastic pow'r the feeling fibres own,
And the nerves swell in sympathetic tone.
O bid me not with speculation vain
Trace the first link that forms the mental chain;

Mark where in life's strong colouring pourtray'd
The soul first caught those hues that never fade;
Why thoughts peculiar strike upon the mind,
And the man grows distinguish'd from mankind!
Lost in the search, enquiry vainly strays,
And darkling error runs round folly's maze.
Unable to explain the secret laws,
And fathom to the depth profound the cause,
Such rash attempts erst led the boastful sage
To study man in heav'n's illumin'd page,
And from the lucid orb and starry scroll
Deduce the inclination of the soul.
Around one point harmonious nature ran,
Sole guide and center of the circle man;
The natal hour his lot of life controll'd,
To mark his fate presiding planets roll'd:
Did high ambition wake the wish to rise,
Jove at his birth shone regent of the skies!
On the sad soul did melancholy weigh,
Saturn's dull flame had faintly warm'd the clay;

'Twas Mars' ascendant fir'd the warrior's blood,
From Mercury wit and elocution flow'd;
And Venus, radiant from the realms above,
Illum'd the infant with the light of love.
These dreams are fled, but other dreams arise,
And visionary phantoms lure the wise:
There are, who with the compass and the line
The measur'd limits of the mind define;
Who, ere upon the front stand forth confest
The marks by time's deep signature imprest,
View in the forming scull the talents wrought,
And from its matrix force the embryo thought;
Explore, where brooding in the bony cells,
Bacon's deep sense, or Shakespear's genius dwells;
Where, yet a cradled babe, some statesman lies,
Artful as Walsingham, as Burleigh wise;
They deem, that as the flowing water glides
Where'er the channel'd path the current guides,
Thus govern'd by the scull's peculiar make
The ductile minds their inclination take.

Can then the dust and perishable earth
Mould in their mass the intellectual birth,
O'er different talents stated forms preside,
And in the same to varying branches guide?
Hence did immortal Homer forceful roll
The peal of epic thunder on the soul;
A melting Sappho languish on the lyre,
Tyrtæus' warmth relume the Spartan fire;
Anacreon sing with wreaths of roses crown'd,
And the sweet Dorian breathe the past'ral sound?
Oh! who of mortal knowledge shall pretend
To mark man's destination and his end?
Who like the potter range each plastic frame,
And on the vase its future use proclaim?
“This made of grosser dust and meaner clay,
“Form'd but to serve, and fashion'd to obey;
“To this choice vessel grace and glory given,
“This set by holy hands apart for heaven.”
The mind is no mechanic organ wound
Blindly to move in regulated round,

But like a kindly soil, dispos'd to feed
With genial juices each entrusted seed.
If general culture had its pow'rs improv'd,
If o'er the kindling sparks ambition mov'd;
Had keen necessity her whetstone join'd,
Sharp'ning the spirit to the work assign'd;
Perhaps the force creative that imparts
A soul to all the imitative arts,
Now clothes the poet's thoughts in words of fire,
Now strikes the nerve of feeling on the lyre;
To sculptur'd forms the breath of life supplies,
And bids the passions from the canvas rise;
Had with like pow'r the reins of empire held,
The car of conquest to the war impell'd;
With philosophic ken the world explor'd,
And turn'd suspended senates by a word.

Man is one perfect piece, whose spring the soul
Moves through the mass, and regulates the whole;

With equal force its vital vigour spread
Feels in the heart, and reasons in the head;
And hence its frequent touch, and constant aim,
Moulds to its bent the sympathetic frame;
Upon the yielding muscles of the face
Leaves by repeated use a lasting trace;
May gradually mark the solid bone,
As ceaseless fall of water frets the stone:
Thus the form'd features rise distinctly bold,
Cast in peculiar shape and settled mould;
The soul, by outward shew defin'd, impart,
And mark the face, the comment of the heart.

Behold Locke's front, and reason's depth discern,
View humour tittering in the smile of Sterne;
In thine sarcastic irony Voltaire,
Genius and truth imprest on Newton's air;
On Cromwell's bolder brow ambition seen,
And sorrow's soft'ning touch on Stuart's mien.

Where'er the fountain gushes into day,
The springs the nature of the soil betray;
In the blue wave the latent minerals gleam,
And hidden pyrites heat the bubbling stream;
Thus on the face the passions fix their seal,
And all the secrets of the breast reveal:
When sentiment is action, thought desire,
The spirits kindle, and the heart's on fire,
The strong expressions, bursting all controul,
Cast forth in high relief the featur'd soul:
Now wonder elevates the open brow,
Breathing revenge, th'expanded nostrils glow;
Love his warm wish in mantling blushes speaks,
Wan jealousy corrodes the canker'd cheeks;
In wild perturbed features guilt display'd,
Calm innocence in placid charms array'd;
Scorn on the lips ill hid by laughter lies,
And folly rolls around her vacant eyes.

Yet boast not man with speculative art,
To trace at will each winding of the heart!
Now prejudice close peers with partial glass,
Fictitious dyes veil the deceitful mass;
Now fix'd aversion's microscopic eyes
Enlarge the failings to unnatural size;
Revers'd by love the tube a scene displays,
Where the dim blemish gradually decays,
Till lost by distance every spot retires,
While every beauty glows with fancied fires:
As wild opinion's strong prismatic hues
Their various colours all around diffuse,
The view cameleon shifts at every turn,
And all, the separate tints they give, discern.

O! if, when errors stain the fairest plan,
And imperfections mark the lot of man,
Forgetful of his nature and his state,
No soft compassion smooth the brow of hate;

If casting on the world a Stoic's view,
Thou give to weakness what is vice's due;
Fly the rash study, tempt not the pursuit,
The tree of knowledge bears a deadly fruit:
But if congenial to thy liberal mind,
The science, with the love, of human kind;
If thou canst pity frailties never felt,
And, firm thyself, for others failings melt,
Through passion's sea dart the unclouded eye,
And pearls beneath a troubled surface spy;
Search the soul's depth, each latent gem produce,
And estimate its value by its use.

FINIS.