When nightingales, when sweetest bards Confine their charming song To summer's animating heats, Yet write I must; a lady'sues; Nor scorn his feeble strain; To you a stranger, but, through fate, The ghost of grief deceas'd ascends, By those he sees in you; Too well he knows the twisting strings When rent asunder, how they bleed, Those tears you pour, his eyes have shed; Thus Nature, loud as virtue, bids But what can heart, or head, suggest? What sad experience say? Through truths austere, to peace we work Our rugged, gloomy way: What are we? Whence? For what? and whither? Who know not, needs must mourn; But thought, bright daughter of the skies! Thought is our armour, 't is the mind's When, sent by fate, we meet our foes, It plucks the frightful mask from ills, Affection frail! train'd up by sense, Thought winds its fond, erroneous stream Whence throngs, in ecstasy, look down All withers here; who most possess Stung by full proof, that, bad at best, Life's idle all is vain : Vain, in its course, life's murmuring stream; Did not its course offend, But murmur cease; life, then, would seem Still vainer, from its end, Mrs. M Heaven wounds to heal; its frowns are friends; But in laps'd Nature rooted deep, And on fools' errands, in the dark, From virtue's rugged path to right By pleasure are we brought, To flowery fields of wrong, and there Yet whilst it chides, it speaks of peace, And says, time pays an easy price, In Earth's dark cot, and in an hour, What an economist is man To spend his whole estate, And beggar an eternity! For which as he was born, Say not, your loss in triumph leads Joys future amply reimburse Befriends our present state: What are the tears, which trickle down Like liquid pearl? Like pearls of price, They purchase lasting peace. Grief softens hearts, and curbs the will, Impetuous passion tames, And keeps insatiate, keen desire From lanching in extremes. Through time's dark womb, our judgment right, If our dim eye was thrown, Clear should we see, the will divine Has but forestall'd our own; At variance with our future wish, Self-sever'd we complain; If so, the wounded, not the wound, The day shall come, and swift of wing, This course it has pursued- Our hearts are fasten'd to this world "T will sound severe-Yet rest assur'd I'm studious of your peace; An hour shall come (you question this) To Resignation swift he flew, In her a friend he found, A friend, which bless'd him with a smile By travel, and to travel born, To real joy we work our way, Encountering many a shock, Ere found what truly charms; as found In some disaster, some severe That mother blessing (not so call'd,) No martyr e'er defy'd the flames, You see, then, pangs are parent pangs, True happiness on Earth. The peopled Earth look all around, This moment, am I deeply stung My bold pretence is tried ; When vain man boasts, Heaven puts to proof The vauntings of his pride; Now need I, madam! your support.- Which strikes me to the heart! The pangs of which I spoke, I feel: Deep anguish comes by Heaven's decree, And when continued past its point, And shall I, criminally mean, Madam! I grant your loss is great; Nor little is your gain? Let that be weigh'd; when weigh'd aright, It richly pays your pain: When Heaven would kindly set us free, And Earth's enchantment end; It takes the most effectual means, But such a friend! and sigh no more? Perhaps your settled grief to sooth, I should not vainly strive, But with soft balm your pain assuage, Whose frequent aid brought kind relief, Ting'd with his beams my cloudy page, To touch our passions' secret springs And deep his happy genius div'd But not to me by him bequeath'd Know, love sometimes, mistaken love! Nor lands, nor seas, nor suns, nor stars, They correspond from distant worlds, * Whilst the author was writing this, he received the news of Mr. Samuel Richardson's death, who was then printing the former part of the poem. Are you not, then, unkindly kind? Is not your love severe ? O stop that crystal source of woe; Nor wound him with a tear. As those above from human bliss Receive increase of joy; May not a stroke from human woe, In part, their peace destroy? He lives in those he left ;-to what? In features, not of form alone, Revolve his battles won; Fan, then, his martial fire: Bequeath'd him by his sire: As nothing great is born in haste, Nor, madam! be surpris'd to hear Like that brave man you mourn, Than ever was unfurl'd In fields of blood; a banner bright! It. like a streaming meteor, casts Sheds day, sheds more, eternal day Can mount our glory higher, Arm'd with undaunted thought; Unactive, and can smile The billows stain'd by slaughter'd foes Nor can the thunders of hozzas, From shouting nations, cause Such sweet delight, as from your heart Soft whispers of applause: The dear deceas'd so fam'd in arms, With what delight he'll view That odd distemper, an absurd Some seem in love with sorrow's charins, This temper let me justly brand, Th' iliumin'd human face; Some beams of Moses' face: Than anguish of the mind; Who bids us lay our burthen down To blessing a command. For joy what cause! how every sense The year around, with presents rich, But most o'erlook the blessings pour'd, And terminate, wrapp'd up in sense, From that, their final point of view, Broke loose from time's tenacious ties, They let unmark'd, and unemploy'd, Fatal mistake! their fate goes on, Though man sits still, and takes his ease; God is at work on man; No means, no moment unemploy'd, But man consents not, boldly bent Man, a mere bungler in the trade, Repents his crime too late; Hence loud laments: let me thy cause, Of all the wretches we deplore, Not one by thee was made. What is thy whole creation fair? Of love divine the child; Love brought it forth; and, from its birth, Now, and through periods distant far, Its birth the good of man; Man holds in constant service bound Their master, man, to please: To final good the worst events Through secret channels run; Finish for man their destin'd course, As 'twas for man begun. One point (observ'd, perhaps, by few) So much, nor more, than what to man's What's revelation then? a list, Au inventory just Of that poor insect's goods, so late What various motives to rejoice! Has this no weight? our joy is felt Would we in Heaven new Heaven create, And double its delight? A smiling world, when Heaven looks down, Angels stoop forward from their thrones As incense sweet enjoy, and join, Its aromatic praise: Have we no cause to fear the stroke If we resign, our patience makes His rod an armless wand; VOL. XIIL Consummate love! the list how large Of blessings from thy hand! Joy is our duty, glory, health; 'Tis joy makes gods, and men exalts, Relief, for man to that must stoop, Content is joy, and joy in pain Is joy and virtue too; Of joy the more we have in hand, Is it not hard to weep in joy What then to smile in pains?" Victorious joy! which breaks the clouds, And struggles through a storm; Proclaims the mind as great, as good; And bids it doubly charm: If doubly charming in our sex, A sex, by nature, bold; What then in yours? 't is diamond there, And should not this complaint repress? I labour to supply. Since spirits greatly damp'd distort Look through the medium of a friend, To set your notions right: As tears the sight, grief dims the soul; The soul's horizon clears. A friend's an optic to the mind, Reason is somewhat rough in man; Extremely smooth and fair, When she, to grace ber manly strength, A friend 3 you have, and I the same, Will bring to life those healing thoughts 3 Mrs. Montague. K k That friend, the spirit of my theme Will leave to me the dreg, in thoughts Let those lament, to whom full bowls Imbitters death, and hazards Heaven: Woe to the soul at perfect ease! 'Tis brewing perfect pains; Have you 4 ne'er pity'd joy's gay scenes, A double friend may find, A wing to Heaven, and, while on Earth, On pillows void of down, for rest When hopes of Heaven lie warm at heart, "T is disbelier'd by murmuring minds, They must conclude it less: The loss, or gain, of that alone That fate controls, and can invert The seasons of the year: O! the dark days, the year around, Of an impatient mind! Through clouds, and storms, a summer breaks, To shine on the resign'd: While man by that of every grace, And virtue, is possess'd; Fond vice her pandemonium builds By resignation we defeat The worst that can annoy; A theme themselves! A theme, how rare! To triumph over captive heads, Are set in bright array: With his own arms proud man's o'ercome, Learning and genius, wiser grown, To female bosons fly. Mrs. Montague. This revolution, fix'd by fate, So burst, full ripe, distended fruits, Pallas, ('t is said) when Jove grew dull, And sprightly leap'd into the throne And lance, or, genius most acute, And gorgon shield,-or, power to fright Our authors male, as, then, did Jove, The fruit of knowledge, golden fruit! To Britain's daughters free: And they, like her, have caus'd a fall, And since of genius in our sex, O Addison! with thee The sun is set; how I rejoice This sister lamp to see! It sheds, like Cynthia, silver beams His lessen'd light, and languid powers, PART II. BUT what in either sex, beyond All parts, our glory crowns? "In ruffling seasons to be calm, And smile, when fortune frowns." Heaven's choice is safer than our own; Of ages past inquire, What the most formidable fate? "To have our own desire." If, in your wrath, the worst of foes Expose him to the thunder's stroke, What numbers, rushing down the steep Have perish'd in their ardent wish! 5 Mrs. Montague. Mrs. Carter, |