Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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Solitude.
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
Solitude.
Hail, hoary Sage! immured by woods and rocks,
Remote from dissipation's gadding eye,
Who, 'neath the shade of dark umbrageous oaks,
Hast wisely shunn'd ambition's grating cry;
And who, while thousands vaguely rove, awry,
From the calm path that leads to wisdom's shrine,
Dost point thy vot'ries to the garnish'd sky,
The radiant empire of that Power Divine
By whose omnific word those countless orbs do shine.
Remote from dissipation's gadding eye,
Who, 'neath the shade of dark umbrageous oaks,
Hast wisely shunn'd ambition's grating cry;
And who, while thousands vaguely rove, awry,
From the calm path that leads to wisdom's shrine,
Dost point thy vot'ries to the garnish'd sky,
The radiant empire of that Power Divine
By whose omnific word those countless orbs do shine.
Thee, Solitude, I sing, whose placid smile
Hath woo'd me ofttimes to thy hermit cave—
Far from the crowd's ear-stunning fervid broil—
Where purling streams the wending willows lave;
Or, where wild-thyme and heath in blossom wave,
Hath held thy lucid mirror to my view—
Shown sage philosophy, abstractly grave,
The flood of mind and matter wading through;
And, though he toil'd and learn'd, scarce less his lesson grew.
Hath woo'd me ofttimes to thy hermit cave—
Far from the crowd's ear-stunning fervid broil—
Where purling streams the wending willows lave;
Or, where wild-thyme and heath in blossom wave,
Hath held thy lucid mirror to my view—
Shown sage philosophy, abstractly grave,
The flood of mind and matter wading through;
And, though he toil'd and learn'd, scarce less his lesson grew.
Ye who, enraptured, trip the dancing hall,
Or gaily circle round the racy bowl,
While from the minstrels showers of music fall,
And bright enchantment elevates the soul,
Think! For, while thus in fleeting joys ye roll,
Time's swiftest gale down life's short vista glides,
Sweeping, with irresistible control,
The race of man to death's oblivious tides,
Where horror's sable frown in awful gloom presides.
Or gaily circle round the racy bowl,
While from the minstrels showers of music fall,
And bright enchantment elevates the soul,
Think! For, while thus in fleeting joys ye roll,
Time's swiftest gale down life's short vista glides,
Sweeping, with irresistible control,
The race of man to death's oblivious tides,
Where horror's sable frown in awful gloom presides.
Nor deem the graver class of humankind
Less bless'd than you, though different be their aims;
For in sobriety they pleasures find,
Though fashion's roll exhibit not their names:
And this they do, experience sage exclaims,
Else well they might participate your joys;
But, ah! they know how riot's end defames
His conduct, justly, with her clam'rous voice,
Who haunts her wanton courts, and joins her crackling noise.
Less bless'd than you, though different be their aims;
For in sobriety they pleasures find,
Though fashion's roll exhibit not their names:
And this they do, experience sage exclaims,
306
But, ah! they know how riot's end defames
His conduct, justly, with her clam'rous voice,
Who haunts her wanton courts, and joins her crackling noise.
How stale the cold routine of vacant mirth,
Which on the mind leaves no improving trace,
But seeks its tomb soon as it finds its birth,
Close lock'd within oblivion's firm embrace!
The masquerade's low-born buffoon grimace
May tickle hearts by folly overrun,
While they who love true wisdom's hallow'd face
Such trifling aping both detest and shun,
While undiscerning crowds are by its snares undone.
Which on the mind leaves no improving trace,
But seeks its tomb soon as it finds its birth,
Close lock'd within oblivion's firm embrace!
The masquerade's low-born buffoon grimace
May tickle hearts by folly overrun,
While they who love true wisdom's hallow'd face
Such trifling aping both detest and shun,
While undiscerning crowds are by its snares undone.
Experience ask, and hist'ry's worthy page,
Then say what work, or great or good, appears
Fit reason's scrutinising eye t' engage,
Through the long lapse of nigh six thousand years,
But sprung from Solitude, whose mirror clears
From feculence opaque the mental powers?
Who wisdom's flag o'er error's urn uprears,
E'en in her solemn, scarce-frequented, bowers,
As lightly glide along the evanescent hours.
Then say what work, or great or good, appears
Fit reason's scrutinising eye t' engage,
Through the long lapse of nigh six thousand years,
But sprung from Solitude, whose mirror clears
From feculence opaque the mental powers?
Who wisdom's flag o'er error's urn uprears,
E'en in her solemn, scarce-frequented, bowers,
As lightly glide along the evanescent hours.
We praise, esteem, admire, yea, half adore
The sons of genius, modern or remote,
And, keen, their modes of acting oft explore,
While, with increasing love, we on them dote;
Yet whence, but from the lone sequester'd grot
Or study-closet, came their works abroad?
To rescue—from the sinking rabble's lot,
Forgetfulness—their names, who nobly trod
The path of wisdom fair, which leads to fame's abode.
The sons of genius, modern or remote,
And, keen, their modes of acting oft explore,
While, with increasing love, we on them dote;
Yet whence, but from the lone sequester'd grot
Or study-closet, came their works abroad?
To rescue—from the sinking rabble's lot,
Forgetfulness—their names, who nobly trod
The path of wisdom fair, which leads to fame's abode.
For what but this did Grecian poets fly
From jarring life to pure Olympus' top?
Thence flow'd their lays, doom'd ne'er in time to die,
But stand as models till life's curtain drop:
Unfetter'd fancy there had ample scope
To scan the intellectual regions round;
There reason her mysterious way did grope
Through error's furzy labyrinth profound,
While tyrant passion lay, quite vanquish'd, on the ground.
From jarring life to pure Olympus' top?
Thence flow'd their lays, doom'd ne'er in time to die,
But stand as models till life's curtain drop:
Unfetter'd fancy there had ample scope
To scan the intellectual regions round;
There reason her mysterious way did grope
Through error's furzy labyrinth profound,
While tyrant passion lay, quite vanquish'd, on the ground.
307
Learn'd great Demosthenes his powerful art
Amid society's tumultuous roar?
No: he acquired to captivate the heart
Where brawling waves howl'd on the rocky shore:
The mind's whole windings did he nice explore,
Mark'd when the potent cadence had effect—
Wielded at will their hearts who stood before
His awful presence—drawing all respect
When rousing them to arms, their freedom to protect!
Amid society's tumultuous roar?
No: he acquired to captivate the heart
Where brawling waves howl'd on the rocky shore:
The mind's whole windings did he nice explore,
Mark'd when the potent cadence had effect—
Wielded at will their hearts who stood before
His awful presence—drawing all respect
When rousing them to arms, their freedom to protect!
'Twere endless to recount the names of such
As Socrates and Plato, truly wise;
Or Aristotle, from whose wisdom much
Of Alexander's glory did arise;
Or those who dwelt beneath Italia's skies,
And rose to fame, in learning or in war;
Tully and Cæsar soon the muse espies,
And him, of song the most effulgent star
'Mong heathen bards, Virgil, who sweetest sang by far.
As Socrates and Plato, truly wise;
Or Aristotle, from whose wisdom much
Of Alexander's glory did arise;
Or those who dwelt beneath Italia's skies,
And rose to fame, in learning or in war;
Tully and Cæsar soon the muse espies,
And him, of song the most effulgent star
'Mong heathen bards, Virgil, who sweetest sang by far.
These first in Solitude were well refined
Ere in life's drama they conspicuous shone;
Their brows did fame with verdant laurels bind,
To bloom when countless millions are unknown.
To other lands, O Muse, why hast thou gone,
To cull the relicts of the mighty dead?
Thy sons, Britannia, are surpass'd by none
Who o'er the world have such bright lustre shed
As hath thee raised to be its wonder and its dread:
Ere in life's drama they conspicuous shone;
Their brows did fame with verdant laurels bind,
To bloom when countless millions are unknown.
To other lands, O Muse, why hast thou gone,
To cull the relicts of the mighty dead?
Thy sons, Britannia, are surpass'd by none
Who o'er the world have such bright lustre shed
As hath thee raised to be its wonder and its dread:
Here stands great Newton! grave, with mind serene,
Who search'd out Nature's laws, though dark and deep,
Nor erring wander'd; for the vast machine
He clear expounded, and, with potent sweep,
Exiled dull sophistry, to wail and weep
Beneath the fell contempt of after days;
Consign'd her folios, now a useless heap,
As fuel on the burning hearth to blaze—
Glorious, his name will shine while heaven her light displays:
Who search'd out Nature's laws, though dark and deep,
Nor erring wander'd; for the vast machine
He clear expounded, and, with potent sweep,
Exiled dull sophistry, to wail and weep
Beneath the fell contempt of after days;
Consign'd her folios, now a useless heap,
As fuel on the burning hearth to blaze—
Glorious, his name will shine while heaven her light displays:
Thine is a Locke, of penetration keen,
Whose hair-dividing metaphysic eye
Man's wondrous immaterial part hath seen,
And clear'd the mist that thereon long did lie:
A Milton thine, who sang, in numbers high,
Man's woeful fall, by Lucifer beguiled,
Who doth each bard, heaven-uninspired, outvie,
That struck the lyre since Sol on terra smiled,
To ward her in her course from devious rovings wild.
Whose hair-dividing metaphysic eye
Man's wondrous immaterial part hath seen,
And clear'd the mist that thereon long did lie:
A Milton thine, who sang, in numbers high,
308
Who doth each bard, heaven-uninspired, outvie,
That struck the lyre since Sol on terra smiled,
To ward her in her course from devious rovings wild.
O Nature! in what strange capricious fit
Didst thou to Shakespeare's muse such fire impart—
Such bold description, and bright flashing wit,
Such peerless knowledge of the human heart?
Doubtless to show thy power, devoid of art,
To prune proud learning's all-ambitious wing—
Conviction on the muse's sons to dart,
That, without thee, in vain they try to sing;
For never from the harp true harmony they'll bring.
Didst thou to Shakespeare's muse such fire impart—
Such bold description, and bright flashing wit,
Such peerless knowledge of the human heart?
Doubtless to show thy power, devoid of art,
To prune proud learning's all-ambitious wing—
Conviction on the muse's sons to dart,
That, without thee, in vain they try to sing;
For never from the harp true harmony they'll bring.
Much were the muse to blame, should she neglect,
When roused her country's sages to detail,
To pay the tribute of profound respect
Due to the memory of godlike Hale;
Humble, amidst true honour's prosp'rous gale;
Just, while the golden bait of bribery flow'd;
Feeling, to soothe want's supplicative wail;
Awful in judgment, to the wretch who trode
The flagrant paths of guilt which lead to death's abode.
When roused her country's sages to detail,
To pay the tribute of profound respect
Due to the memory of godlike Hale;
Humble, amidst true honour's prosp'rous gale;
Just, while the golden bait of bribery flow'd;
Feeling, to soothe want's supplicative wail;
Awful in judgment, to the wretch who trode
The flagrant paths of guilt which lead to death's abode.
Nor wants she names in heath-clad Caledon
To grace the bright saturnian roll of fame;
For, through the gloom of other days, far gone,
Her sons of genius uneclipsed flame.
In classic lore, what modern bold dare claim
Precedency to chaste Buchanan's muse?
Or thy sweet lays (which carping cynics aim
Quite to explode by sophistry profuse),
Ossian, great Celtic bard, nursed 'mid the mountain dews?
To grace the bright saturnian roll of fame;
For, through the gloom of other days, far gone,
Her sons of genius uneclipsed flame.
In classic lore, what modern bold dare claim
Precedency to chaste Buchanan's muse?
Or thy sweet lays (which carping cynics aim
Quite to explode by sophistry profuse),
Ossian, great Celtic bard, nursed 'mid the mountain dews?
A Gregory, a Ferguson, a Blair,
A Beattie, a M'Laurin, and a Keil,
Auspiciously have fallen to her share,
Whose labours have made learning's garden smile:
A Thomson, whose sweet strains the hours beguile,
As if the talisman's enchanting wand
Raised, to our still delighted eye, the while,
The varied scenery of every land,
Whose memory for aye will time's assaults withstand.
A Beattie, a M'Laurin, and a Keil,
Auspiciously have fallen to her share,
Whose labours have made learning's garden smile:
A Thomson, whose sweet strains the hours beguile,
As if the talisman's enchanting wand
Raised, to our still delighted eye, the while,
The varied scenery of every land,
Whose memory for aye will time's assaults withstand.
309
And was there patriot e'er, who fought or bled,
That with heroic Wallace can compare?
His was the undaunted soul, 'mong dangers bred,
On fields of war, or 'mid the mountain air:
His mighty mind drew inspiration there
From Solitude, the nurse of virtues strong;
And when his country's plains were plunder'd bare,
He rid her of the base marauding throng,
And raised her thistle's head, that drooping hung so long.
That with heroic Wallace can compare?
His was the undaunted soul, 'mong dangers bred,
On fields of war, or 'mid the mountain air:
His mighty mind drew inspiration there
From Solitude, the nurse of virtues strong;
And when his country's plains were plunder'd bare,
He rid her of the base marauding throng,
And raised her thistle's head, that drooping hung so long.
View these, ye sons of ever-joyous mood!
Scan their biography with critic eye!
And own the peerless power of Solitude
In aiding minds for works that never die.
Base is the soul that haunts the nauseous sty
Of riot, losing life's true halcyon joys,
While time's on wing, and merit raising high
Her roll of honour, free to all whose choice
It is to mind her call, and spurn earth's sensual toys.
Scan their biography with critic eye!
And own the peerless power of Solitude
In aiding minds for works that never die.
Base is the soul that haunts the nauseous sty
Of riot, losing life's true halcyon joys,
While time's on wing, and merit raising high
Her roll of honour, free to all whose choice
It is to mind her call, and spurn earth's sensual toys.
Nor only to the sons of science are
Her powers propitious; mild devotion, too,
From crude society sequester'd far,
Soars into ecstacies of joy still new:
Untroubled there she rapt'rous can pursue
Her hopeful prospects in the world unknown,
Beneath the fragrant birch or sable yew,
Where mourning streams sigh with incessant tone:
Her sweetest hours she spends in wild-wood shades alone.
Her powers propitious; mild devotion, too,
From crude society sequester'd far,
Soars into ecstacies of joy still new:
Untroubled there she rapt'rous can pursue
Her hopeful prospects in the world unknown,
Beneath the fragrant birch or sable yew,
Where mourning streams sigh with incessant tone:
Her sweetest hours she spends in wild-wood shades alone.
The smile of day on woods, and fields, and flowers,
Shows nature's charms far, far surpassing art,
While native music flows from blooming bowers,
With power to captivate the feeling heart:
Still, solemn, lonely night doth charms impart
To minds which are to contemplation given,
When sumless stars their twinkling splendour dart,
Of golden hue, from circumambient heaven,
While every thought that's mean is from the bosom driven:
Shows nature's charms far, far surpassing art,
While native music flows from blooming bowers,
With power to captivate the feeling heart:
Still, solemn, lonely night doth charms impart
To minds which are to contemplation given,
When sumless stars their twinkling splendour dart,
Of golden hue, from circumambient heaven,
While every thought that's mean is from the bosom driven:
Then strays the saint beside the purling brook,
In close communion with the Deity,
When through the jarring city's every nook
Rings the unhallow'd voice of revelry:
And then, too, roused to true sublimity,
Deep musing, roams the pensive child of song;
Or when ascends the lark's blithe melody
O'er freshest meads, with rushes waving long,
Tuning his dulcet lay as vaults his fancy strong:
In close communion with the Deity,
When through the jarring city's every nook
Rings the unhallow'd voice of revelry:
And then, too, roused to true sublimity,
310
Or when ascends the lark's blithe melody
O'er freshest meads, with rushes waving long,
Tuning his dulcet lay as vaults his fancy strong:
And when he casts a retrospective glance
Upon the perils of the days of yore,
When persecution's deadly sword and lance
Deep dyed these lovely wilds in human gore,
The tide of sympathy swells more and more
Within his breast, and quite o'erwhelms his soul,
For those who fought true freedom to restore,
Or, hapless, fell, to grace the martyr's roll,
Tasting the unsav'ry dregs of death's impoison'd bowl:
Upon the perils of the days of yore,
When persecution's deadly sword and lance
Deep dyed these lovely wilds in human gore,
The tide of sympathy swells more and more
Within his breast, and quite o'erwhelms his soul,
For those who fought true freedom to restore,
Or, hapless, fell, to grace the martyr's roll,
Tasting the unsav'ry dregs of death's impoison'd bowl:
Such scenes as these half-sanctified he deems,
And, frequent, paces o'er the dreary ground,
While o'er the darksome hills the lightning gleams,
And thunder from the welkin peals around;
Or haply, stretch'd upon the verdant mound,
By Roman hands uprear'd in th' olden time,
Thousands of thoughts upon his fancy bound,
And swell his soul to ecstacy sublime;
Then rolls the rapid tide of pure orig'nal rhyme:
And, frequent, paces o'er the dreary ground,
While o'er the darksome hills the lightning gleams,
And thunder from the welkin peals around;
Or haply, stretch'd upon the verdant mound,
By Roman hands uprear'd in th' olden time,
Thousands of thoughts upon his fancy bound,
And swell his soul to ecstacy sublime;
Then rolls the rapid tide of pure orig'nal rhyme:
More sweet to him the wild-fowl wailing shrill,
Or bleating lambs, far o'er the heathy moor,
Or mourning soft of lonely mountain rill,
Than theatres, where flashes wit impure;
A gifted Kean may thitherward allure
The gaping throng, by skill in mimicry;
But, to th' impassion'd mind, impart no cure,
While trips the wanton siren levity;
Remote from this lewd court dwells true philosophy.
Or bleating lambs, far o'er the heathy moor,
Or mourning soft of lonely mountain rill,
Than theatres, where flashes wit impure;
A gifted Kean may thitherward allure
The gaping throng, by skill in mimicry;
But, to th' impassion'd mind, impart no cure,
While trips the wanton siren levity;
Remote from this lewd court dwells true philosophy.
Not all the polish of a Roman court,
In highest rank, where true politeness shone,
Where learning bright display'd her radiant port,
Could Jerom's heart to virtue's mandates tone:
No: 'twas in Bethle'm's humble village, lone,
The glorious conquest o'er his lusts he won,
'Neath whose fell sway he long oppress'd did groan,
When, beaming bright, arose the gospel-sun,
Dispelling from his soul of vice the vapours dun:
In highest rank, where true politeness shone,
Where learning bright display'd her radiant port,
Could Jerom's heart to virtue's mandates tone:
No: 'twas in Bethle'm's humble village, lone,
The glorious conquest o'er his lusts he won,
'Neath whose fell sway he long oppress'd did groan,
When, beaming bright, arose the gospel-sun,
Dispelling from his soul of vice the vapours dun:
311
On sacred truths were all his thoughts transfix'd,
Incessant, pondering o'er the hallow'd page;
Hence study keen, with warm devotion mix'd,
Subdued to quiet passion's burning rage.
Such power has Solitude to disengage
The soul from objects mean, to raise her aims,
The thirst for splendid trifling to assuage,
And mark punctiliously fair Virtue's claims,
Who eternizes still her noble vot'ries' names.
Incessant, pondering o'er the hallow'd page;
Hence study keen, with warm devotion mix'd,
Subdued to quiet passion's burning rage.
Such power has Solitude to disengage
The soul from objects mean, to raise her aims,
The thirst for splendid trifling to assuage,
And mark punctiliously fair Virtue's claims,
Who eternizes still her noble vot'ries' names.
But deem not Solitude for ever dwells
On heathy hills, wild wolds, or lonely vales,
'Midst woods and rocks, and fairy-haunted dells,
Where nought obtrusive eye or ear assails:
Oft in the city all his power prevails,
Within the closet's taper-lighted bourn,
Where study pores; or pale affliction wails,
Through adverse fate, or friends laid in the urn;
Or penitence laments time lost ne'er to return:
On heathy hills, wild wolds, or lonely vales,
'Midst woods and rocks, and fairy-haunted dells,
Where nought obtrusive eye or ear assails:
Oft in the city all his power prevails,
Within the closet's taper-lighted bourn,
Where study pores; or pale affliction wails,
Through adverse fate, or friends laid in the urn;
Or penitence laments time lost ne'er to return:
There many a wight, “unnoticed and unknown,”
A life of toil and poverty expends,
And, when his latest tie on earth is gone,
For him in black appear no weeping friends;
Thus strangely, woefully, his life he ends,
In frightful Solitude, amid the throng;
More sadly drear than he who never blends
Among society, but all life-long
Dwells in the hermit-shades, and die's the same among:
A life of toil and poverty expends,
And, when his latest tie on earth is gone,
For him in black appear no weeping friends;
Thus strangely, woefully, his life he ends,
In frightful Solitude, amid the throng;
More sadly drear than he who never blends
Among society, but all life-long
Dwells in the hermit-shades, and die's the same among:
And there the sage his mental toil pursues,
With ceaseless ardour, in his still recess,
Where passion ne'er his face distorted shows,
Nor riot enters, with obscene address;
Unheard his name, till wide the teeming press
His sapient labours to the world displays;
Then lauding thousands join his name to bless,
And through the letter'd world his fame to raise,
And twine the laurel-wreath or ever-verdant bays.
With ceaseless ardour, in his still recess,
Where passion ne'er his face distorted shows,
Nor riot enters, with obscene address;
Unheard his name, till wide the teeming press
His sapient labours to the world displays;
Then lauding thousands join his name to bless,
And through the letter'd world his fame to raise,
And twine the laurel-wreath or ever-verdant bays.
But, should commercial bustle time deny
For lonely contemplation, prime of joy,
The sacred-day have we, by mandate high,
When nought obtrusive dares the mind annoy;
In acts devotional, without alloy,
Who may not join, and reap the harvest bless'd?
The themes which highest Seraphim employ
May well claim entrance to the human breast,
When, sweet, they soothe the soul with hopes of endless rest:
For lonely contemplation, prime of joy,
The sacred-day have we, by mandate high,
When nought obtrusive dares the mind annoy;
In acts devotional, without alloy,
312
The themes which highest Seraphim employ
May well claim entrance to the human breast,
When, sweet, they soothe the soul with hopes of endless rest:
A day ordain'd for spiritual delight—
Deep consultation with the inner man;
For pond'ring revelation's records bright,
Which show redemption's all-excelling plan:
Yet, oh! what swarms of wretches, direly wan,
With quenchless riot, lounge along the streets!
Who ne'er one act by wisdom's standard scan,
Nor of retirement lone partake the sweets,
But scorn, with brazen front, heaven's promises and threats!
Deep consultation with the inner man;
For pond'ring revelation's records bright,
Which show redemption's all-excelling plan:
Yet, oh! what swarms of wretches, direly wan,
With quenchless riot, lounge along the streets!
Who ne'er one act by wisdom's standard scan,
Nor of retirement lone partake the sweets,
But scorn, with brazen front, heaven's promises and threats!
Far let me wander from their converse vile,
To breathe the halcyon fragrant mountain air,
While from the east th' illuming sun doth smile,
And fields bright gleam, bespread with di'monds fair;
While birds the cheering power aloud declare,
In matins sweet, from forest, hill, and plain;
There let me usher in the day of prayer
With contemplation's soul-enriching train,
Unseen by mortal eye, save some mild early swain:
To breathe the halcyon fragrant mountain air,
While from the east th' illuming sun doth smile,
And fields bright gleam, bespread with di'monds fair;
While birds the cheering power aloud declare,
In matins sweet, from forest, hill, and plain;
There let me usher in the day of prayer
With contemplation's soul-enriching train,
Unseen by mortal eye, save some mild early swain:
Here let me trace, within the sacred code,
Him o'er whose head hung envy's dagger dire,
The darling of his father and his God,
Joseph, enslaved to glut fraternal ire;
Or Israel's destined, legislative sire,
On Midian mountains tending, lone, his flock,
Where, from the bush of sight-bedazzling fire,
God him commission'd with the awful shock
'Gainst Egypt's sons, who bound round Jacob's neck the yoke;
Him o'er whose head hung envy's dagger dire,
The darling of his father and his God,
Joseph, enslaved to glut fraternal ire;
Or Israel's destined, legislative sire,
On Midian mountains tending, lone, his flock,
Where, from the bush of sight-bedazzling fire,
God him commission'd with the awful shock
'Gainst Egypt's sons, who bound round Jacob's neck the yoke;
Or Joshua, waving red destruction's sword,
Death-edged, from God's terrific armoury,
O'er Palestine, devoted by the Lord,
To drink the blood of her cursed progeny;
Or David, famed for sacred minstrelsy,
Wand'ring the desert wild, the mountain drear,
Or pouring forth the heart-felt elegy
For those who fell, by woeful doom severe,
Upon Gilboa's hills, by sabre, bow, and spear;
Death-edged, from God's terrific armoury,
O'er Palestine, devoted by the Lord,
To drink the blood of her cursed progeny;
Or David, famed for sacred minstrelsy,
Wand'ring the desert wild, the mountain drear,
Or pouring forth the heart-felt elegy
For those who fell, by woeful doom severe,
Upon Gilboa's hills, by sabre, bow, and spear;
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Or Jeremiah, in the dungeon chill;
Or Buzi's son, by limpid Chebar's strand;
Or Daniel, raised, by God's all-ruling will,
To princely sway in Babel's distant land;
Or John the Baptist, the forerunner grand
Of Him whose love earth's every clime should see—
Who gave existence, by his sole command,
To all things in creation's bounds that be,
Yet deign'd to die for man, from sin to set him free!
Or Buzi's son, by limpid Chebar's strand;
Or Daniel, raised, by God's all-ruling will,
To princely sway in Babel's distant land;
Or John the Baptist, the forerunner grand
Of Him whose love earth's every clime should see—
Who gave existence, by his sole command,
To all things in creation's bounds that be,
Yet deign'd to die for man, from sin to set him free!
O'er themes like these how sweetly glide the hours,
Till, call'd from roaming by the village bell,
Homeward I tread, o'er dew-bespangled flowers,
And leave the sighing stream and silent dell!
There peace and pleasure, in sweet concord, dwell;
There blithe content, with brow unruffled, reigns;
There ne'er is heard rude riot's bedlam swell,
Nor base deception friendship's visage feigns;
But, glowing, mutual love prevails 'mong honest swains.
Till, call'd from roaming by the village bell,
Homeward I tread, o'er dew-bespangled flowers,
And leave the sighing stream and silent dell!
There peace and pleasure, in sweet concord, dwell;
There blithe content, with brow unruffled, reigns;
There ne'er is heard rude riot's bedlam swell,
Nor base deception friendship's visage feigns;
But, glowing, mutual love prevails 'mong honest swains.
Although retirement's soothing sweets I sing,
Entire seclusion sternly I decry:
From convents dull what good result can spring,
Whose inmates social nature's laws deny?
Or hermit, far removed from mortal eye,
In woods and caves, sad, sullen, sitting lone,
A whole life through, in wild obscurity,
Where tempest-shaken forests deeply moan—
His bed the rushy mat, his seat the mossy stone?
Entire seclusion sternly I decry:
From convents dull what good result can spring,
Whose inmates social nature's laws deny?
Or hermit, far removed from mortal eye,
In woods and caves, sad, sullen, sitting lone,
A whole life through, in wild obscurity,
Where tempest-shaken forests deeply moan—
His bed the rushy mat, his seat the mossy stone?
Ah, none! Creation's Lord hath so ordain'd
That mutual intercourse best suits our race:
Each is dependent; therefore is constrain'd
To court affiance with his brother's grace;
Nor, though exalted to the regal place,
Where riches, honours, titles, brightly blaze,
Ought squinting scorn e'er to distort his face,
Nor demon-pride his wrath malignant raise;
But fellow-love should gild his most propitious days.
That mutual intercourse best suits our race:
Each is dependent; therefore is constrain'd
To court affiance with his brother's grace;
Nor, though exalted to the regal place,
Where riches, honours, titles, brightly blaze,
Ought squinting scorn e'er to distort his face,
Nor demon-pride his wrath malignant raise;
But fellow-love should gild his most propitious days.
Thus wants, reciprocal by nature, say—
An endless Solitude for man's not meet!
Yet, in the dawn and eve of life's long day,
'Tis right her silent arbours oft to greet;
In that, to nerve the soul with knowledge sweet,
To guide through sleek temptation's mazy wood—
In this, to take a retrospect, complete,
How oft to vice we fell, to virtue stood,—
And close the chequer'd scene in solemn Solitude!
An endless Solitude for man's not meet!
Yet, in the dawn and eve of life's long day,
'Tis right her silent arbours oft to greet;
In that, to nerve the soul with knowledge sweet,
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In this, to take a retrospect, complete,
How oft to vice we fell, to virtue stood,—
And close the chequer'd scene in solemn Solitude!
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |