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Strange the reverse, which, once abased, The haughty creature proves! He feels his soul a barren waste, Nor dares affirm he loves.
Scorn'd by the thoughtless and the vain,
To God he presses near; Superior to the world's disdain,
And happy in its sneer.
Oh welcome, in his heart he says,
Humility and shame!
The music of a name!
But will not scandal mar the good
That I might else perform?
By so despised a worm?
Ah, vainly anxious!—leave the Lord
To rule thee, and dispose; Sweet is the mandate of his word,
And gracious all he does.
He draws from human littleness
His grandeur and renown;
The triumph all his own.
Down then with self-exalting thoughts;
Thy faith and hope employ, To welcome all that he allots,
And suffer shame with joy.
No longer, then, thou wilt encroach
On his eternal right;
And make thee his delight.
THE SECRETS OF DIVINE LOVE ARE TO BE KEPT.
Sun! stay thy course, this moment stay— Suspend the o'erflowing tide of day, Divulge not such a love as mine, Ah! hide the mystery divine;Lest man, who deems my glory shame, Should learn the secret of my flame.
O Night! propitious to my views,
Ye Stars! whose faint and feeble fires
Express my languishing desires,
Whose slender beams pervade the skies
As silent as my secret sighs,
Those emanations of a soul,
That darts her fires beyond the Pole;
Your rays, that scarce assist the sight,
Thou Moon! whose never-failing course
Bespeaks a providential force,
Go, tell the tidings of my flame
To him who calls the stars by name;
Whose absence kills, whose presence cheers;
Who blots, or brightens, all my years.
While, in the blue abyss of space,
Ye thought-composing, silent Hours,
In sylvan scenes, and caverns rude,
Imbowering Shades, and Dens profound!
Ye Kills i that, murmuring all the way,
Enamel'd Meads, and Hillocks green,
If, when my pain and grief increase,
Ye Meads and Groves, unconscious things!
The dear sole cause of all I feel,—
Ye Deserts! where the wild beasts rove,
Ye Lambs! who sport beneath these shades,
And bound along the mossy glades;
Be taught a salutary fear,
And cease to bleat when I am near:
The wolf may hear your harmless cry,
Whom ye should dread as much as I.
How calm, amid these scenes, my mind!
How perfect is the peace I find!
Oh hush, be still, my every part,
My tongue, my pulse, my beating heart!
That love, aspiring to its cause,
May suffer not a moment's pause.
Ye swift-finn'd nations, that abide
Away! dive deep into the brine,