ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,
For the year 1792.

Felix, qui potait rerum cogno..ere causas,
Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum

Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!-VIRG.
Happy the mortal who has traced effects

To their first cause, cast fear beneath his feet,
And death and roaring hell's voracious fires!

THANKLESS for favours from on high,
Man thinks he fades too soon;
Though 'tis his privilege to die,
Would he improve the boon.

But he, not wise enough to scan
His blest concerns aright,
Would gladly stretch life's little span
To ages, if he might ;

To ages in a world of pain,

To ages, where he goes

Galled by affliction's heavy chain,

And hopeless of repose.

Strange fondness of the human heart,

Enamoured of its harm!

Strange world, that costs it so much smart,
And still has power to charm.

Whence has the world her magic power?

Why deem we death a foe?

Recoil from weary life's best hour,

And covet longer woe?

The causes Conscience :-Conscience oft
Her tale of guilt renews;

Her voice is terrible though soft,
And dread of death ensues.

Then anxious to be longer spared,

Man mourns his fleeting breath:
All evils then seem light compared
With the approach of Death.

'Tis judgment shakes him; there's the fear
That prompts the wish to stay:
He has incurred a long arrear,

And must despair to pay.

Pay?-follow Christ, and all is paid;
His death your peace ensures;
Think on the grave where he was laid,
And calm descend to yours.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION

For the Year 1793.

De sacris autem hæc sit una sententia, ut conserventur.-CIC. DE LEG.
But let us all concur in this one sentiment, that things sacred be inviolate.

HE lives who lives to God alone,

And all are dead beside;
For other source than God is none
Whence life can be supplied.

To live to God is to requite

His love as best we may;
To make his precepts our delight,
His promises our stay.

But life, within a narrow ring
Of giddy joys comprised,

Is falsely named, and no such thing,
But rather death disguised.

Can life in them deserve the name,
Who only live to prove

For what poor toys they can disclaim
An endless life above?

Who, much diseased, yet nothing feel;
Much menaced, nothing dread;

Have wounds which only God can heal,
Yet never ask his aid?

Who deem his house a useless place,
Faith, want of common sense;
And ardour in the Christian race,
A hypocrite's pretence?

Who trample order; and the day
Which God asserts his own
Dishonour with unhallowed play,
And worship chance alone?

If scorn of God's commands, impressed
On word and deed, imply

The better part of man unblessed
With life that cannot die;

Such want it, and that want, uncured

Till man resigns his breath,

Speaks him a criminal, assured

Of everlasting death.

-

TO THE COURTEOUS READER.

HAVING satiated and fatigued my eyes, gentle reader, by too intent an observation of what is passing on earth; and raising therefore my thoughts to higher contemplations, to the wonders diffused by the Supreme Being, for the benefit of man, through the universe; I felt my heart penetrated by a certain Christian compunction, in reflecting how his inexpressible goodness, though perpetually and grievously offended by us, still shows itself in the highest degree indulgent towards us in preserving those wonders with a continual influence to our advantage; and how on the first provocation to vengeance, Almighty power does not enlarge the ocean to pass its immense boundary, does not obscure the light of the sun, does not impress sterility on the earth, to engulf us, to blind us, and finally to destroy us. Softened and absorbed in these divine emotions, I felt myself transported and hurried by a delightful violence into a terrestrial paradise, where I seemed to behold the first man Adam, a creature dear to God, the friend of Angels, the heir of heaven, familiar with the stars, a compendium of all created things, the ornament of all, the miracle of nature, the lord of the animals, the only inhabitant of the universe, and enjoyer of a scene so wonderfully grand. Whence charmed more than ever, I resolved with the favour of the blessed God, to usher into the light of the world, what I bore in the darkness of my imagination; both to render it known in some measure, that, I know myself, and the infinite obligations that I have to God; and that others, who do not know, may learn, the true nature of man, and from the low contemplation of earthly things, may raise their minds to things celestial and divine.

I remained, however, a considerable time in doubt if I ought, or if I were able to undertake a composition most difficult to me on many accounts, since in beginning the sacred subject from man's creation to the point where he is driven from the terrestrial paradise, a period of six years (as St. Augustine relates in his book on the City of God), I did not clearly perceive how an action so brief

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could be formed into five acts, especially allowing to every act the number of at least six or seven scenes,-difficult from the dispute that the Devil maintained with Eve, first, that he might induce her to eat the apple, since we have only the text that mentions it, in saying, nequaquam moriemini, et eritis sicut Dii scientes bonum et malum,"-difficult from the words of Eve in persuading Adam (who had indeed the gift of knowledge infused) to taste the apple; -but difficult above all, from my own infirmity, since the composition must remain deprived of those poetic ornaments so dear to the muses; deprived of the power to draw comparisons from implements of art introduced in the course of years, since in the time of the first man there was no such thing: deprived also of naming (at least while Adam speaks, or discourse is held with him), for example, bows, arrows, hatchets, urns, knives, swords, spear, trumpets, drums, trophies, banners, lists, hammers, torches, bellows, funeral piles, theatres, exchequers, infinite things of a like nature, introduced by the necessities of sin; and yet, as circumstances of affliction and punishment, they ought not to pass through the mind or through the lips of Adam, although he had knowledge infused into him, as one who lived most happy in a state of innocence: deprived moreover of introducing points of history sacred or profane, of relating fictions of fabulous deities, of rehearsing loves, furies, sports of hunting or fishing, triumphs, shipwrecks, conflagrations, enchantments, and things of a like nature, that are in truth the ornament and the soul of poetry: difficult from not knowing in what style Adam ought to speak, since in respect to his knowledge it might be proper to assign to him verses of a high majestic and flowing style; but considering him as a shepherd and inhabitant of the woods, it appears that he should be simple and sweet in his discourse, and I endeavoured on that account to render it such, as much as I could by variety of versification. And here, taking courage in my greatest doubt, I formed, I know not how, a beginning; I advanced, if I may say so, without any determinate plan and arrived at the end before I was aware. Whence I am inclined to believe that the favour of God, regarding rather my good intention than my defects, (for, as he often withdraws the heart of man from evil, so he conducts it insensibly to good,) gave direction to my hand, and completed my work. Wherefore to that alone I am indebted for the little grace that may perhaps be found in the present labour; knowing that, as Omnipotence is accustomed to produce wonders from the rude and unformed chaos, so, from the still ruder chaos of my mind, it may have called forth this production, if not for any other purpose, yet to be sacred and to make as it were a mute speak in my person, in despite of poverty of genius, as on the other hand it is accustomed to strike mute the most eloquent tongues when they employ themselves on subjects low and profane. Let it be surveyed, therefore, with an eye of indulgence, and blame not the poverty of style, the want of dignity in the conduct of the circumstances, sterility of conceits, weakness of spirit, insipid jokes and extravagant episodes, to mention, (without speaking of an infinitude of other things,) that the world, the flesh, and the devil, present themselves in