His gracious attributes, and prove the share Now see him launched into the world at large; His offspring hold in his paternal care.

If priest, supinely droning o'er his charge, If, led from earthly things to things divine, Their fleece his pillow, and his weekly drawl, His creature thwart not his august design, Though short, too long, the price he pays for all. Then praise is heard instead of reasoning pride, If lawyer, loud, whatever cause he plead, And captious cavil and complaint subside. But proudest of the worst, if that succeed. Nature, employed in her allotted place,

Perhaps a grave physician, gathering fees, Is hand-maid to the purposes of Grace;

Punctually paid for lengthening out disease; By good vouchsafed makes known superior good, No Cotton, whose humanity sheds rays, And bliss not seen by blessings understood: That make såperior skill his second praise. That bliss, revealed in Scripture, with a glow If arms engage bim, he devotes to sport Bright as the covenantensuring bow,

His date of life, so likely to be short; Fires all his feelings with a noble scorn

A soldier may be any thing, if brave, . Of sensual evil, and thus Hope is born.

So may a tradesman, if not quite a knave. Hope sets the stamp of vanity on all

Such stuff the world is made of; and mankind That men have deemed substantial since the fall, To passion, interest, pleasure, whim resigned, Yet has the wondrous virtue to educe

Insist on, as if each were his own pope,
From emptiness itself a real use;

Forgiveness, and the privilege of hope.
And while she takes, as at a father's hand, But Conscience, in some awful silent hour,
What health and sober appetite demand,

When captivating lusts have lost their power,
From fading gooul derives, with chymic art, Perhaps when sickness, or some fearsul dream,
That lasting happiness, a thankful heart. Reminds him of religion, hated theme!
Hope, with uplifted foot set free from earth, Starts from the down, on which she lately slept,
Pants for the place of her ethereal birth, And tells of laws despised, at least not kept:
On steady wings sails through th' immense abyss, Shows with a pointing finger, but no noise,
Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss, A pale procession of past sinful joys,
And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here, All witnesses of blessings foully scorned,
With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear. And life abused, and not to be suborned.
Hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast Mark these, she says; these summoned from afar,
The Christian vessel, and defies the blast. Begin their march to meet thee at the bar;
Hope! nothing else can nourish and secure There find a Judge inexorably just,
His new-born virtues, and preserve him pure. And perish there, as all presumption must.
Hope! let the wretch, once conscious of the joy, Peace be to those (such peace as Earth can give)
Whom now despairing agonies destroy, Who live in pleasure, dead e'en while they live;
Speak, for he can, and none so well as he, Born capable indeed of heavenly truth;
What treasures centre, what delights in thee. But down to latest age, from earliest youth
Had he the gems, the spices, and the land Their mind a wilderness through want of care,
That boasts the treasure, all at his command; The plough of wisdom never entering there.
The fragrant grove,
th' inestimable mine,

Peace, (if in sensibility may claim
Were light, when weighed against one smile of A right to the meek honours of her name)

To men of pedigree, their noble race,
Though, clasped and cradled in his nurse's arms, Emulous always of the nearest place
He shines with all a cherub's artless charms, To any throne, except the throne of Grace.
Man is the genuine offspring of revolt,

Let cottagers and unenlightened swains
Stubborn and sturdy, as a wild ass' colt;

Revere the laws they dream that Heaven ordains: His passions, like the watery stores that sleep Resort on Sundays to the house of prayer, Beneath the smiling surface of the deep, And ask, and fancy they find blessings there. Wait but the lashes of a wintry storm,

Themselves, perhaps, when weary they retreat To frown and roar, and shake his feeble form. T'enjoy cool nature in a country seat, From infancy through childhood's giddy máze, T'exchange the centre of a thousand trades, Froward at school, and fretful in his plays, For clumps, and lawns, and temples, and cascades, The puny tyrant burns to subjugate

May now and then their velvet cushions take, The free republic of the whip-gig state.

And seem to pray for good example's sake; If one, his equal in athletic frame,

Judging, in charity no doubt, the town Or, more provoking still, of nobler name, Pious enough, and having need of none. Dare step across his arbitrary views,

Kind souls! to teach their tenantry to prize An Iliad, only not in verse, ensues:

What they themselves, without remorse, despise : The little Greeks look trembling at the scales, Nor hope have they, nor fear, of aught to come, Tull the best tongue, or heaviest hand, prevails. As well for them had prophecy been dumb;

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They could have held the conduct they pursue, He sent a servant forth by every road,
Had Paul of Tarsus lived and died a Jew; To sound his horn, and publish it abroad,
And truth, proposed to reasoners wise as they, That all might mark-knight, menial, high, and
Is a pearl cast-completely cast away.

low, They die-Death lends them, pleased, and as in An ordinance it concerned them all to know. sport,

If, after all, some headstrong hardy lout
All the grim honours of his ghastly court. Would disobey, though sure to be shut out,
Far other paintings grace the chamber now, Could he with reason murmur at his case,
Where late we saw the mimic landscape glow: Himself sole author of his own disgrace?
The busy heralds hang the sable scene

No! the decree was just and without flaw; With mournful ’scutcheons, and dim lamps be- And he, that made, had right to make, the law; tween;

His sovereign power and pleasure unrestrained, Proclaim their titles to the crowd around, The wrong was his who wrongfully complained. But they that wore them move not at the sound; Yet half mankind maintain a churlish strife The coronct, placed idly at their head,

With Him, the donor of eternal life, Adds nothing ňow to the degraded dead; Because the deed, by which his love confirms And e'en the star, that glitters on the bier, The largess he bestows, prescribes the terms. Can'only say–Nobility lies here.

Compliance with his will your lot ensures, Peace to all such—'were pity to offend,

Accept it only, and the boon is yours. By useless censure, whom we can not mend; And sure it is as kind to smile and give, Life without hope can close but in despair, As with a frown to say, Do this, and live. 'Twas there we found them, and must leave them Love is not pedler's trumpery bought and sold : there.

He will give freely, or he will withhold; As, when two pilgrims in a forest stray, His soul abhors a mercenary thought, Both may be lost, yet each in his own way; And him as deeply who abhors it not; So fares it with the multitudes beguiled

He stipulates indeed, but merely this, In vain Opinion’s waste and dangerous wild; That man will freely take an unbought bliss, Ten thousand rove the brakes and thorns among, Will trust him for a faithful generous part, Some eastward, and some westward, and all wrong. Nor set a price upon a willing heart. But here, alas! the fatal difference lies,

Of all the ways that seems to promise fair, Each man's belief is right in his own eyes; To place you where his saints his presence share, And he that blames what they have blindly chose, This only can; for this plain cause, expressed Incurs resentment for the love he shows. In terms as plain, Himself has shut the rest.

Say, botanist, within whose province fall But oh the strife, the bickering, and debate, The cedar and the hyssop on the wall,

The tidings of unpurchased Heaven create! Of all that deck the lanes, the fields, the bowers, The flirted fan, the bridle, and the toss, What parts the kindred tribes of weeds and All speakers, yet all language at a loss. flowers?

From stuccoed walls smart argument rebound; Sweet scent, or lovely form, or both combined, And beaux, adepts in every thing profound, Distinguish every cultivated kind;

Die of disdain, or whistle off the sound. The want of both denotes a meaner breed, Such is the clamour of rooks, daws, and kites, And Chloe from her garland picks the weed. Th’explosion of the levelled tube excites, Thus hopes of every sort, whatever sect

Where mouldering abbey-walls o'erhang the glade, Esteem them, sow them, rear them, and protect, And oaks coeval spread a mournful shade; If wild in nature, and not duly found,

The screaming nations, hovering in-mid air, Gethsemane! in thy dear hallowed ground, Loudly resent the stranger's freedom there, That can not bear the blaze of Scripture light, And seem to warn him never to repeat Nor cheer the spirit, nor refresh the sight, His bold intrusion on their dark retreat. Nor animate the soul to Christian deeds,

Adieu, Vinosa cries, ere yet he sips (Oh cast them from thce!) are weeds, arrant The purple bumper trembling at his lips, weeds.

Adieu to all morality! if Grace Ethelred's house, the centre of six ways, Make works a vain ingredient in the case. Diverging each from cach, like equal rays, The Christian hope is—Waiter, draw the corkHimself as bountiful as April rains,

If I mistake not-Blockhead! with a fork! Lord paramount of the surrounding plains, Without good works, whatever some may boast, Would give relief of bed and board to none Mere folly and delusion-Sir, your toast. But guests that sought it in th' appointed One; My firm persuasion is, at least sometimes, And they might enter at his open door, That Heaven will's virtues and his E'en till his spacious hall would hold no more. crimes



With nice attention, in a righteous scale, Of all it ever was my lot to read,
And save or damn as these or those prevail. Of critics now alive, or long since dead,
I plant my foot upon this ground of trust, The book of all the world that charmed me most
And silence every fear with—God is just. Was-welladay, the title-page was lost;
But if perchance on some dull drizzling day The writer well remarks, a heart that knows
A thought intrude, that says, or seems to say, To take with gratitude what Heaven bestows,
If thus th' important cause is to be tried, With prudence always ready at our call,
Suppose the beam should dip on the wrong To guide our use of it, is all in all.
I soon recover from these needless frights,

Doubtless it is.—To which of my own store, And God is merciful-sets all to rights.

I superadd a few essentials more; Thus between justice, as my prime support,

But these, excuse the liberty I take, And mercy, fled to as the last resort,

I waive just now, for conversation's sake.--
I glide and steal along with Heaven in view, Spoke like an oracle, they all exclaim,
And, -pardon me, the bottle stands with you. And add Right Reverend to Smug's honoured

I never will believe, the Colonel cries,
The sanguinary schemes, that some devise And yet our lot is given us in a land,
Who make the good Creator on their plan Where busy arts are never at a stand;
A being of less equity than man.

Where Science points her telescopic eye,
If appetite, or what divines call lust,

Familiar with the wonders of the sky;
Which men comply with, e'en because they must, Where bold Inquiry, diving out of sight,
Be punished with perdition, who is pure? Brings many a precious pearl of truth to light;
Then theirs, no doubt, as well as mine, is sure. Where nought eludes the persevering quest
If sentence of eternal pain belong

That fashion, taste, or luxury, suggest.
To every sudden slip and transient wrong, But, above all, in her own light arrayed,
Then Heaven enjoins the fallible and frail See Mercy's grand apocalypse displayed!
A hopeless task, and damns them if they fail. The sacred book no longer suffers wrong,
My ereed (whatever some creed-makers mean Bound in the fetters of an unknown tongue:
By Athanasian nonsense, or Nicene)

But speaks with plainness, art could never mend, My creed is, he is safe that does his best, What simplest minds can soonest comprehend. And death's a doom sufficient for the rest. God gives the word, the preachers throng around,

Right, says an ensign; and, for aught I see, Live from his lips, and spread the glorious sound: Your faith and mine substantially agree; That sound bespeaks Salvation on her way, The best of every man's performance here The trumpet of a life-restoring day; Is to discharge the duties of his sphere.

'Tis heard where England's eastern glory shines, A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair, And in the gulfs of her Cornubian mines.

Honesty shines with great advantage there. And still it spreads. See Germany send forth | Fasting and prayer sit well upon a priest, Her sons* to pour it on the farthest north: A decent caution and reserve at least.

Fired with a zeal peculiar; they defy
A soldier's best is courage in the field,

The rage and vigour of a polar sky,
With nothing here that wants to be concealed; And plant successfully sweet Sharon's rose
Manly deportment, gallant, easy, gay;

On icy plains, and in eternal snows.
A hand as liberal as the light of day.

O blest within th' enclosure of your rocks, The soldier thus endowed who never shrinks, Nor herds have ye to boast, nor bleating flocks; Nor closets up his thoughts, whate'er he thinks, No fertilizing streams your fields divide, Who scorns to do an injury by stealth,

That show reversed the villas on their side; Must go to Heaven-and I must drink his health. No groves have ye; no cheerful sound of bird, Sir Smug, he cries, (for lowest at the board, Or voice of turtle, in your land is heard: Just made fifth chaplain of his patron lord, Nor grateful eglantine regales the smell His shoulders witnessing, by many a shrug, Of those, that walk at evening where ye dwell: How much his feelings suffered, sat Sir Smug,) But Winter, armed with terrors here unknown, Your office is to winnow false from true; Sits absolute on his unshaken throne; Come, prophet, drink, and tell us what think you? Piles up his stores amidst the frozen waste,

Sighing and smiling as he takes his glass, And bids the mountains he has built stand fast; Which they that woo preferment rarely pass, Beckons the legions of his storms away Fallible man, the church-bred youth replies, From happier scenes, to make your land a prey, Is still found fallible, however wise;

Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won, And differing judgments serve but to declare, And scorns to share it with the distant sun. That truth lies somewhere, if we knew but where.

"The Moravian Missionaries in Greenland. See Krantz

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Yet Truth is yours, remote, unenvied isle! Shall answer, Hope, sweet Hope, has set me free. And Peace, the genuine offspring of her smile; And made all pleasures else mere dross to me. The pride of lettered Ignorance, that binds

These, amidst scenes as waste as if denied In chains of error our accomplished minds, The common care that waits on all beside, That decks, with all the splendour of the true, Wild as if Nature there, void of all good, A false religion, is unknown to you.

Played only gambols in a frantic mood,
Nature, indeed, vouchsafes for our delight (Yet charge not heavenly skill with having planned
The sweet vicissitudes of day and night: A plaything world, unworthy of his hand)
Soft airs and genial moisture feed and cheer Can see his love, though secret evil lurks
Field, fruit, and flower, and every creature here; In all we touch, stamped plainly on his works,
But brighter beams than his who fires the skies, Deem life a blessing with its numerous woes,
Have risen at length on your admiring eyes, | Nor spurn away a gift a God bestows.
That shoot into your darkest caves the day, Hard task, indeed, o'er arctic seas to roam!
From which our nicest optics turn away. Is hope exotic? grows it not at home?

Here see th’ encouragement Grace gives to vice, Yes, but an object, bright as orient morn,
The dire effect of mercy without price!

May press the eye too closely to be borne;
What were they? what some fools are made by A distant virtue we can all confess,

It hurts our pride, and moves our envy,

less. art, They were by nature, atheists, head and heart. Leuconomus (beneath well sounding Greek

I slur a name a poet must not speak)
The gross idolatry blind heathens teach
Was too refined for them, beyond their reach.

Stood pilloried on Infamy's high stage,

And bore the pelting scorn of half an age;
Not e’en the glorious Sun, though men revere
The monarch most, that seldom will appear,

The very butt of Slander, and the blot And though his beams that quicken where they For every dart that Malice ever shot. shine,

The man that mentioned him at once dismissed May claim some right to be esteemed divine,

All mercy from his lips, and sneered and hissed; Not e'en the desirable as rare,

His crimes were such as Sodom never knew, Could bend one knee, engage one votary there;

And Perjury stood up to swear all true;

His aim was mischief, and his zeal pretence,
They were, what base Credulity believes
True Christians are,dissemblers,drunkards, thieves. His speech rebellion against common sense;
The full-gorged savage, at his nauseous feast,

A knave, when tried on honesty's plain rule; Spent half the darkness, and snored out the rest,

And when by that of reason, a mere fool; Was one whom Justice, on an equal plan,

The world's best comfort was, his doom was passed; Denouncing death upon the sins of man,

Die when he might, he must be damned at last. Might almost have indulged with an escape,

Now, Truth, perform thine office; waft aside Chargeable only with a human shape.

The curtain drawn by Prejudice and Pride,

Reveal (the man is dead) to wondering eyes What are they now?-Morality may spare This more than monster, in his proper guise. Her grave concern, her kind suspicions there:

He loved the world that hated him: the tear The wretch, who once sang wildly, danced and

That dropt upon his Bible was sincere: laughed

Assailed by scandal and the tongue of strife, And sucked in dizzy madness with his draught,

His only answer was a blameless life; Has wept a silent flood, reversed his ways,

And he that forged, and he that threw the dart, Is sober, meek, benevolent, and prays, :

Had each a brother's interest in his heart. Feeds sparingly, communicates his store,

Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbribed, Abhors the craft he boasted of before,

Were copied close in him, and well transcribed. And he that stole, has learned to steal no more,

He followed Paul, his zeal a kindred flame, Well spake the prophet, Let the desert sing,

His apostolic charity the same. Where sprang the thorn, the spiry fir shall spring, Like him, crossed cheerfully tempestuous seas, And where unsightly and rank thistles grew,

Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease; Shall grow the myrtle and luxuriant yew.

Like him he laboured, and like him content Go now, and with important tone demand To bear it, suffered shame where'er he went. On what foundation virtue is to stand,

Blush, Calumny! and write upon his tomb,
If self-exalting claims be turned adrift,

If honest Eulogy can spare thee room,
And grace be grace indeed, and life a gift; Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies,
The poor reclaimed inhabitant, his eyes

Which, aimed at him, have pierced the offended Glistening at once with pity and surprise,

skies! Amazed that shadows should obscure the sight And say, blot out my sin, confessed, deplored, Of one, whose birth was in a land of light, Against thine image, in thy saint, O Lord!


No blinder bigot, I maintain it still,

Hence all that is in man, pride, passion, art, Than he who must have pleasure, come what will: Powers of the mind, and feelings of the heart, He laughs, whatever weapon Truth may draw, Insensible of Truth's almighty charms, And deems her sharp artillery mere straw. Starts at her first approach, and sounds to arms! Scripture indeed is plain; but God and he While Bigotry, with well-dissembled fears, On Scripture ground are sure to disagree; His eyes shut fast, his fingers in his ears, Some wiser rule must teach him how to live, Mighty to party and push by God's word, Than this his Maker has seen fit to give; * With senseless noise, his argument the sword, Sepple and flexible as Indian cane,

Pretends a zeal for godliness and grace, To take the bend his appetites ordain;

And spits abhorrence in the Christian's face. Contrived to suit frail Nature's crazy case, And reconcile his lusts with saving grace.

Parent of Hope, immortal Truth! make known By this, with nice precision of design,

Thy deathless wreaths, and triumphs all thine own: He draws a pon life's map a zigzag line,

The silent progress of thy power is such, That shows how far 'tis safe to follow sin,

Thy means so feeble, and despised so much,

That few believe the wonders thou hast wrought, And where his danger and God's wrath begin. By this he forms, as pleased he sports along,

And none can teach them, but whom thou hast

taught. His well-poised estimate of right and wrong; And finds the modish manners of the day,

O see me sworn to serve thee, and command

A painter's skill into a poet's hand, Though loose, as harmless as an infant's play.

That, while I trembling trace a work divine,
Build by whatever plan Caprice decrees,
With what materials, on what ground you please; And light, and shade, and every stroke be thine.

Fancy may stand aloof from the design,
Your hope shall stand unblamed, perhaps admired,
If not that hope the Scripture has required.

If ever thou hast felt another's pain,
The strange conceits, vain projects and wild dreams, If ever when he sighed hast sighed again,
With which hypocrisy for ever teems,

If ever on thy eyelid stood the tear,
(Though other follies strike the public eye, That pity had engendered, drop one here.
And raise a laugh,) pass unmolested by ; This man was happy—had the world's good word,
But if, unblameable in word or thought,

And with every joy it can afford; A man anse, a man whom God has taught, Friendship and love seemed tenderly at strife, With all Elijah's dignity of tone,

Which most should sweeten his untroubled life; And all the love of the beloved John,

Politely learned, and of a gentle race, To storm the citadels they build in air, Good breeding and good sense gave all a grace, And smite the untempered wall; 'tis death to spare. And whether at the toilette of the fair, To sweep away all refuges of lies,

He laughed and trifled, made him welcome there, And place, instead of quirks themselves devise, Or if in masculine debate he shared, Loma Sabacthani before their eyes;

Ensured him mute attention and regard. To prove, that without Christ all gain is loss, Alas, how changed! Expressive of his mind, All hope despair, that stands not on his cross; His eyes are sunk, arms folded, head reclined; Except the few his God may have impressed, Those awful syllables, hell, death, and sin, A tenfold frenzy seizes all the rest.

Though whispered, plainly tell what works within; Throughout mankind, the Christian kind at least, That conscience there performs her proper part, There dwells a consciousness in every breast, And writes a doomsday sentence on his heart; That folly ends where genuine hope begins, Forsaking, and forsaken of all friends, And he that finds his Heaven must lose his sins. He now perceives where earthly pleasure ends; Nature opposes with her utmost force

Hard task! for one who lately knew no care, This riving stroke, this ultimate divorce; And harder still as learnt beneath despair ; And, while religion seems to be her view, His hours no longer pass unmarked away, Hates with a deep sincerity the true :

A dark importance saddens every day; For this, of all that ever influenced man,

He hears the notice of the clock perplexed, Since Abel worshipped, or the world began, And cries, perhaps eternity strikes next; This only spares no lust, admits no plea, Sweet music is no longer music here, But makes him, if at all, completely free; And laughter sounds like madness in his ear: Sounds forth the signal, as she mounts her car, His grief the world of all her power disarms, Of an eternal, universal war;

Wine has no taste, and beauty has no charms: Rejects all treaty, penetrates all wiles,

God's holy word, once trivial in his view, Scorns with the same indifference frowns and smiles; Now by the voice of his experience true, Drives through the realms of Sin, where riot reels, Seems, as it is, the fountain whence alone And grinds his crown beneath her burning wheels! Must spring that hope he pants to make his own.

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