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With endless change of rapturous duties fir'd; Though plung d, before, in horrours dark as Through wondrous beings interposing swarms,

night : All clustering at the call, to dwell in thee; Rich prelibation of consummate joy! Through this wide waste of worlds! this vista vast, Nor wait we dissolution to be blest. Al! sanded o'er with suns; suns turn'd to night Tbis final effort of the moral Muse, Before thy feeblest beam-Look down-down- How justly titled * ? nor for me alone: down,

For all that read; what spirit of support, On a poor breathing particle in dust,

What heights of Consolation, crown my song! Or, lower, an immortal in his crimes.

Then, farewel Night! of darkness, now, do
His crimes forgive! forgive his virtues, too!
Those smaller faults, half-converts to the right. Joy breaks ; shines; triumphs; 't is eternal day.
Nor let me close these eyes, which never more Shall that which rises out of nought complain
May see the Sun (though night's descending scale Of a few evils, paid with endless joys ?
Now weighs up morn), unpity'd, and unblest ! My soul! henceforth, in sweetest union join
In thy displeasure dwells eternal pain;

The two supports of human bappiness,
Pain, our aversion; pain, which strikes me mw; Which sonse, erroneous, think can never meet ;
And, since all pain is terrible to man,

True taste of life, and constant thought of death! Though transient, terrible ; at thu good hour, The thought of death, sole victor of its dread! Gently, ah gently, lay me in my bed,

llope, be thy joy; and prolity thy skill; My clay-cold bed! by nature now, so near; Thy patron he, whose diadem has dropp'd By nature, near; still nearer by disease!

Yon gems of Ficaven; eternity, thy price:
Till then, be this, an emblem of iny grave: And leave the racers of the world their own,
Let it out-preach the preacher; every night Their feather, and their froth, for endless toils :
Let it out-cry the boy at Philip's ear;

They part with all for that which is not bread; That tongue of death! that herald of the tomb ! They mortify, they starve, on wealth, fame, And when (the shelter of thy wing implord)

power; My senses, sooth’d, shall sink in soft repose, And laugh to scorn the fools that aim at more. o sink this truth still deper in my soul,

How must a spirit, late escap'd from Farth, Suggested by my pillow, sign'l by fute,

Suppose Philander's, Lucia's, or Narcissa's, First, in fate's volume, at the page of man- The truth of things new-blazing in its eye, Man's sickly soul, though turn's and loss'd for | Look back, astonish'd, on the ways of men, ever,

Whose lives' whole drift is to forget their graves! From side to side, can rest on nought but thee: And when our present privilege is past, Here, in full trust; hereafter, in full joy;

To scourge us with due sense of its aluse,
On thee, the promis'd, sure, eternal down

The same astonisbment will seize us all.
Of spirits, toil'd in travel through this vale. What then must pain us, would preserve us not
Nor of that pillow shall my soul despond;

Lorenzo! 't is not yet too late; Lorenzo!
For Love almighty! Love almighty! (sing, Seize wisdom, ere it is torment to be wise ;
Exult creation!) Love almighty, reigns!

That is, seize wisdom, ere she seizes thee. That death of death! that cordial of despair ! For what, my small philosopher! is Hell? And loud eternity's triumphant song!

'Tis nothing but full knowledge of the truth, * Of whom, no more :-For, O thou Patron- When truih, resisted long, is sworn our foa: God!

And calls eternity to do her right.
Thou God and mortal! Thence more God to man! Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light,
Man's theme eternal ! man's eternal theme! And sacred silence whispering truths divine,
Thou canst not 'scape uninjur'd from our praise. And truths divine converting pain to peace,
Uninjur'd from our praise can he escape,

My song the midnight raven has outwing'd,
Who, disembosom'd from the Father, bows

And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes, The Heaven of Heavens, to kiss the distant Beyond the flaming limits of the world, Farth!

Her gloomy fight. But what avails the flight
Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul !

Of fancy, when our hearts remain below?
Against the cross, Death's iron sceptre breaks ! Virtue ahounds in flatteries and foes;
From famish'd ruin plucks her human prey! "T' is pride to praise her; penance to perform.
Throws wide the gates celestial to his foes !

To more than words, to more than worth of Their gratitude, for such a boundless debt,

tongue, Deputes their suffering brothers to receive!

Lorenzo! rise, at this auspicious bour; And, if deep human guilt in payment fails; An hour, when Heaven 's most intimate with man; As deeper guilt prohibits our despair!

When, like a falling star, the ray divine Enjoins it, as our duty, to rejoice!

Glides swift into the bosom of the just; And (to close all) omnipotently kind,

And just are all, determin'd to reclaim;
Takes his delights among the sons of men 19," Which sets that title high within thy reach.
What words are these-And did they come from Awake, then: thy Philander calls : awake!

Thou, who shalt wake, when the creation sleeps;
And were they spoke to man? to guilty man? When, like a taper, all these suns expire;
What are all mysteries to love like this?

When Time, like him of Gaza in his wrath,
The songs of angels, all the melodies

Plucking the pillars that support the world, Of choral gods, are wafted in the sound;

In Nature's ample ruins lies intomb'd; Heal and exhilarate the broken heart;

And midnight, universal midnight! reigas.


19 Prov, chap. viii.

20 The Consolation


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And with them dy'd my joys; the grave

Has broken Nature's laus;

And clos'd, against this feeble frame,

Its partial cruel jaws; My soul shall be satisfied even as it were with Cruel to spare! condemn'd to life!. marrow and fatness, when my mouth praiseth thee

d cloud impairs my sight; with joyful lips.

Psalm lxiii. 6. My wcak hand disobeys iny will,

And trembles as I write.

What shall I write? Thalia, tell;

Say, long-abandou'd Muse!
This was not intended for the public, there were What field of fancy shall I range ?
many and strong reasons against it; and are so suill;

What subject shall I choose? but some extracts of it, from the few copies which were given away, being got into the printed papers,

A choice of moment high inspire,

And rescue me from sbaine, it was thought necessary to publish something, lest a copy still more imperfect than this should for doting on thy charms so late, fall into the press : and it is hoped, that this un

By grandeur in my theme. welcome occasion of publication may be some ex- Beyond the themes, which most admire, cuse for it.

Which dazzle, or amaze, As for the following stanzas, God Almighty's in- Beyond renown'd exploits of war, finite power, and marvellous goodness to man, is Bright charms, or empire's blaze, dwelt on, as the most just and cogent reason for

Are themes, which, in a world of woe, our cheerful and absolute resignation to his will;

Can best appease our pain ; nor are any of those topics declined, which have a

And, in an age of gaudy guilt, just tendency to promote that supreme virtue:

Gay folly's tood restrain ; such as the vanity of this life, the value of the next, the approach of death, &c.

Amidst the storms of life support

A calm unshaken mind;

And with unfading laurels crown

The brow of the resign’d.
The days how few, how short the years

() Resignation! yet unsung, Of man's too rapid race!

Untouch'd by former strains ;
Each leaving, as it swiftly tlies,

Though claiming every Muse's smile,
A shorter in its place.

And every poet's pains,
They who the longest lease enjoy,

Beneath life's evening, solemn shade,
Have told us with a sigh,

I dedicate my page
That to be born seems little more,

To thee, thou safest guard of youth!
Than to begin to die.

Thou sole support of age !
Numbers there are who feel this truth

All other duties crescents are
With fears alarm'd; and yet,

Of virtue faintly bright,
In life's delusions lull'd asleep,

The glorious consumination, thou!
This weighty truth forget :

Which fills her orb with light :
And am not I to these akin?

How rarely fill'd! the love divine
Age slumbers o'er the quill;

In evils to discern,
Its honour blots, whate'er it writes,

This the first lesson which we want,
And am I writing still ?

The latest, which we learn;
Conscious of nature in decline,

A melancholy truth! for know,
And languor in my thoughts ;

Could our proud hearts resign,
To soften censure, and abate

The distance greatly would decrease
Its rigour on my faults;

"Twixt human and divine. Permit me, madam! ere to you

But though full noble is my theme,
The promis’d verse 1 pay,

Full urgent is my call
To touch on felt infirmity,

To soften sorrow, and forbid
Sad sister of decay.

The bursting tear to fall :
One world deceas'd, another born,

The task I dread; dare I to leave
Like Noah they behold,

Of humble prose the shore,
O’er whose white hairs, and furrow'd brows, And put to sea ? a dangerous sea?
Too many suns have roll'd :

What throngs have sunk before !
Happy the patriarch! be rejoicd

How proud the poet's billow swells !
His second world to see :

The God! the God! his boast :
My second world, though gay the scene,

A boast how vain! What wrecks abound !
Can boast no charms for me.

Dead bards stench every coast.
To me this brilliant age appears

What then am I? Shall I presume,
With desolation spread;

On such a moulten wing,
Near all with whom I liv'd, and smild,

Above the general wreck to rise,
Whilst life was life, are dead;

And in my winter, sing i


When nightingales, when sweetest bards

How wretched! who, through cruel fate, Confine their charining song

Have nothing to lament ! To summer's animating heats,

With the poor alms this world affords Content to warble young ?

Deplorably content ! Yet write I must; a lady' sues;

Had not the Greek his world mistook, How shameful her request !

His wish had been most wise; My brain in labour for dull rhyme!

To be content with but one world, Hers teeming with the best !

Like him, we should despise. But you a stranger will excuse,

Of Earth's revenue would you state Nor scorn his feeble strain ;

A full account, and fair? To you a stranger, but, through fate,

We hope; and hope; and hope; then cast
No stranger to your pain.

The total up-
The ghost of grief deceas'd ascends,
His old wound bleeds anew;

His sorrows are recall'd to life
By those he sees in' you;

Since vain all here, all future, vast,

Embrace the lot assign'd; Too well he knows the twisting strings

Heaven wounds to heal; its frowns are friends; Of ardent hearts combin'd

Its stroke severe, most kind.
When rent asunder, how they bleed,
How hard to be resign'd:

But in laps'd Nature rooted deep,

Blind errour domineers; Those tears you pour, his eyes have shed;

And on fools' errands, in the dark,
The pang you feel, he felt;

Sends out our hopes and fears;
Thus Nature, loud as virtue, bids
His heart at yours to melt.

Bids us for ever pains deplore,

Our pleasures overprize; But what can heart, or head, suggest?

These oft persuade us to be weak;
What sad experience say,

Those urge us to be wise.
Through truths austere, to peace we work
Our rugged, gloomy way:

From virtue's rugged path to right

By pleasure are we brought,
What are we? Whence? For what. and whither? To Howery fields of wrong, and there
Who know pot, needs must mourn ;

Pain chides us for our fault:
But thought, bright daughter of the skies !
Can tears to triumph turn.

Yet whilst it chides, it speaks of peace,

If folly is withstood; Thought is our armour, 't is the mind's

And says, time pays an easy price,
Impenetrable shield,

For our eternal good.
When, sent by fate, we meet our foes,
Ju sore affliction's field;

In Earth's dark cot, and in an hour,

And in delusion great It plucks the frightful mask from ills,

What an economist is man
Forbids pale fear to hide,

To spend his whole estate,
Beneath that dark disguise, a friend,
Which turns affection's tide.

And beggar an eternity !

For which as he was born, Affection frail! train'd up by sense,

More worlds than one against it weigh'd,
From reasop's channel strays :

As feathers he should scorn.
And whilst it blindly points at peace,
Our peace to pain betrays.

Say not, your loss in triumph leads

Religion's feeble strife; Thonght winds its fond, erroneous stream

Joys future amply reimburse
From daily-dying flowers,

Joys bankrupts of this life.
To nourish rich immortal blooms,
In amaranthine bowers ;

But not deferr'd yaur joy so long,

It bears an early date; Whence throngs, in ecstasy, look down

Affliction's ready pay in hand,
On what once shock'd their sight;

Befriends our present state :
And thank the terrours of the past
For ages of delight.

What are the tears, which trickle down

Her melancholy face, All withers here; who most possess

Like liquid pearl ? Like pearls of price, Are losers by their gain,

They purchase lasting peace. Stung by full proof, that, bad at best,

Grief softens hearts, and curbs the will,
Life's idle all is vain :

Impetuous passion tames,
Vain, in its course, life's murmuring stream; And keeps insatiate, keen desire
Did not its course offend,

From lanching in extremes.
Bit murmur cease; life, then, would seem

Through time's dark womb, our judgment right, Still vainer, from its end.

If our dim eye was thrown,

Clear should we see, the will divine | Mrs. M

Has but forestall'd our own;

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At variance with our future wish,

Now need 1, madam ! your support.Self-sever'd we complain;

How exquisite the smart; If so, the wounded, not the wound,

How criticaily tim'd the news Must answer for the pain :

Which strikes me to the heart! The day shall come, and swift of wing,

The pangs of which I spoke, I feel : Though you may think it slow,

If worth like thine, is born, When, in the list of fortune's smiles,

O long-belor'd! I bless the blow, You'll enter frowns of woe.

And triumph, whilst I mourn. For mark the path of Providence;

Nor mourn I long; by grief subdued This course it has pursued

By reason's empire shown; Pain is the paient, woe the womb,

Deep anguish comes by Heaven's decree, Of sound, important good :"

Continues by our own; Our hearts are fastend to this world

And when continued past its point, By strong and endless ties :

Indulg'd in length of time, And every sorrow cuts a string,

Grief is disgrace, and, what was fate, And urges us to rise :

Corrupts into a crime : sT will sound severe-Yet rest assur'd

And shall I, criminally mean, I'm studious of your peace;

Myself and subject u rong? Though I should dore to give you joy

No; my example shall support Yes, joy of his decease :

The subject of my song. An hour shall come (you question this)

Madam! I grant your loss is great; An hour, when you shall bless,

Nor little is your gain? Beyond the brightest beams of life,

Let that be weigh’d; when weighd aright, Dark days of your distress.

It richly pays your pain : Hear then without surprise a truth,

When Heaven would kindly set us free, daughter-truth to this,

And Earth's enchantment end ; Swift turns of fortune often tie

It takes the most effectual means, A bleeding heart to bliss:

And robs us of a friend. Esteem you this a paradox?

But such a friend! and sigh no more? My sacred motto read;

'Tis prudeot; but severe : A glorious truth! divinely sung

Heaven aid my weakness, and I drop, By one, whose heart had bled;

All sorrow—with this tear. To Resignation swift he few,

Perhaps your settled grief to sooth, In her a friend he found,

I should not vainly strive, A friend, wbich bless'd him with a smile

But with soft balm your pain assuage, When gasping with his wound.

Had he been still alive; On Earth naught precious is obtain'd

Whose frequent aid brought kind relief, But what is painful too;

In my distress of thought, By 'ravel, and to iravel born,

Ting'd with his beams my cloudy page, Our sabbaths are but few :

And beautify'd a fault: To real joy we work our way,

To touch our passions' secret springs Encountering many a shock,

Was his peculiar care ; Ere found what truly charms; as found

And deep his happy genius div'd A Venus in the block.

In bosoms of the fair ; In some disaster, some severe

Nature, which favours to the few, Appointment for our sins,

All art beyond, imparts, That mother blessing (not so call'd,)

To him presented at his birth, True happiness, begins.

The key of human hearts. No martyr e'er defy'd the flames,

But not to me hy him bequeath'd By stings of life unvext;

His gentle, smooth address; First rose some quarrel with this world,

His tender hand to touch the wound Then passion for the next.

In throbbing of distress; You see, then, pangs are parent pangs,

Howe'er, proceed I must, unbless'd The pangs of happy birtb;

With Esculapian art: Pangs, by which only can be born

Know, love sometimes, mistaken love! True happiness on Earth.

Plays disaffection's part: The peopled Earth look all around,

Nor lands, nor seas, nor suns, nor stars, Or through time's records run;

Can soul from soul divide; And say, what is a man unstruck ?

They correspond from distant worlds,
It is a man undone.

Though transports are denied :
This moment, am I deeply stung-
My bold pretence is tried;

Whilst the author was writing this, he received When vain man boasts, Heaven puts to proof the news of Mr. Samuel Richardson's death, whe The vauntings of his pride ;

was then printing the former part of the poem.


Are you not, then, kindly kind ?

The dear deceas'd so fam'd in arins, Is not your love severe?

With what delight he'll views O! stop that crystal source of woe;

His triunpbs on the main outdone, Nor wound hiin with a tear.

Thus conquer'd, twice, by you. As those above from human bliss

Share his delight; take heed to shun keceive increase of joy;

Of bosoms inost discas'd May not a stroke fronı human woe,

That odd distemper, an absurd In part, their peace destroy ?

Reluctance to be pleas'd: He lives in those he left ;-to what?

Some seem in love with sorrow's charins, Your, now, paternal care,

And that foul fiend embrac: Clear from its cloud your brighten'd eye,

This temper let me justly brand, It will discern him there;

And stamp it with disgrace: In features, not of form alone,

Sorrow! of horrid parentage! But those, I trust, of mind;

Thou second-born of Hell ! Auspicious to the public wool,

Against Heaven's endless mercies pour'd And to their fate resign'd.

llow dar'st thou to rebel? Think on the teinpests he sustain'd;

I'rom black and noxious vapours bred Rerolve his battles won ;

And nursil ly want of thought, And let those propliesy your joy

And to the drip of phrensy's self From such a father's son :

By perseverance brought, Is consolation what you seek?

Thy most inglorious, conard tears Fan, then, his martial tire:

From brutal eyes have ran ; Ard animate to fame the sparks

Smiles, incommunicable smiles ! Bequeath'd him by bis sire:

Are radiant marks of man; As nothing great is born in haste,

They cast a sudden glory round Wise Namre's time allow ;

Th'illumin'd human face; His father's laurels may descend,

And light in sons of honest joy And tourish on his brow.

Some beams of Moses' face: Nor, madam! be surpris'd to hear

Is resignation's lesson liard ? That laurels may be due

Examine, we shall find Not more to beroes of the field,

That duty gives up little more (Prond boasters !) than to you:

Than angnish of the mind; Tender as is the female frame,

Resign; and ail the load of life Like that brave man you mourn,

That moment you reinore, You are a soldier, and to fight

Its heavy tax, ten thousand cares Superior battles burn;

Devolve on one above; Deneath a banner nobler far

W'ho bids us lay our burthen down Than erris was unfurl'd

On his al.nighty band, In fields of blood; a banner bright!

Softeps our duty to relief, High ward o'er all the world.

To blessing a comniand. It, like a streaming meteor, casts

For joy what cause! how every sense An universal light;

Is courted from above Sheds day, sheds more, eternal day

The year around, with presents rich, On nations whelm'd in night.

The growth of endless love! Beneath that banner, what exploit

But most o'erlook the blessings pour'd, Can mount our glory higher,

Forget the wonders done', Than to sustain the dreadful blow,

And terminate, wrapp'd up in sense, When those we love expire ?

Their prospect at the Sun; Co forth a moral Amazon ;

From that, their final point of view, Ari'l with undaunted thought ;

From that their radiant goal, The battle won, though costing dear,

On travel infinite of thought, You ’ll think it cheaply bought :

Sets out the nobler soul, The passive hero, who sits down

Broke loose from time's tenacious ties, Unactive, and can smile

And Larth's involving gloom, Beneath allliction's galling load,

To range at last its vast doinain, Out-acts a Cæsar's toil :

And talk with worlds to come : Thc billows stain'd by slaughter'd foes

They let unmark'd, and unemploy'd, Inferior praise afiord;

Life's idle moments run; Reasop's a bloodless conqueror,

And, doing nothing for themselves, More glorious than the sword.

Imagine nothing done; Vor can the thunders of huzzas,

Fatal mistake their fate goes on, Fron sbouting nations, cause

Their dread account proceeds, Such saret delight, as from your heart

And their not-doing is set down Soft whispers of applause :

Amongst their darkest deeds;


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