Billeder på siden
[ocr errors]


But o'er th' affections too she claims the sway,
Pierces the human heart, and steals the soul away,
And as attractive sounds move high or low,
'Th' obedient ductile passions ebb and flow.
Has any nymph her faithful lover lost,
And in the visions of the night,
And all the day-dreams of the light,
In sorrow's tempest turbulently tost-
From her cheeks the roses die,

The radiations vanish from her Sun-bright eye,
And her breast, the throne of love,
Can hardly, hardly, hardly move,
'To send th' ambrosial sigh.

But let the skilful bard appear,

And pour the sounds medicinal in her ear;
Sing some sad, some plaintive ditty,
Steept in tears, that endless flow,
Melancholy notes of pity,

Notes that mean a world of woe;

She too shall sympathize, she too shall moan,
And pitying others' sorrows sigh away her own.

[blocks in formation]

But hark the temple's hollow'd roof resounds,
And Purcell lives along the solemn sounds-
Mellifluous, yet manly too,

He pours his strains along,
As from the lion Sampson flew,
Comes sweetness from the strong.
Not like the soft Italian swains,

He trills the weak enervate strains,
Where sense and music are at strife;
His vigorous notes with meaning teem,
With fire, with force explain the theme,
And sing the subject into life.
Attend he sings Cecilia-matchless dame!
'Tis she-'tis she-fond to extend her fame,
en the loud chords the notes conspire to stay,
And sweetly swell into a long delay,

And dwell delighted on her name.

Blow on, ye sacred organs, blow,
In tones magnificently slow;
Such is the music, such the lays,
Which suit your fair inventress' praise:
While round religious silence reigns,
And loitering winds expect the strains.
Hail majestic mournful measure,
Source of many a pensive pleasure!
Best pledge of love to mortals giv'n,
As pattern of the rest of Heav'n!
And thou chief honour of the veil,
Hail, harmonious Virgin, hail!
When Death shall blot out every name,
And Time shall break the trump of Fame,
Angels may listen to thy lute;

Thy pow'r shall last, thy bays shall bloom,
When tongues shall cease, and worlds consume,
And all the tuneful spheres be mute.


When Death shall blot out every name, &c.






HAVING made an humble offering to him, without whose blessing your skill, admirable as it is, would have been to no purpose, I think myself bound by all the ties of gratitude, to render my next acknowledgments to you, who, under God, restored me to health from as violent and dan gerous a disorder, as perhaps ever man survived. And my thanks become more particularly your just tribute, since this was the third time, that your judgment and medicines rescued me from the grave, permit me to say, in a manner almost miraculous.

If it be meritorious to have investigated medicines for the cure of distempers, either overlooked or disregarded by all your predecessors, millions yet unborn will celebrate the man, who wrote the Medicinal Dictionary, and invented the Fever Powder.

Let such considerations as these, arm you with constancy against the impotent attacks of those whose interest interferes with that of mankind; and let it not displease you to have those for your particular enemies, who are foes to the public in general.

It is no wonder, indeed, that some of the retailers of medicines should zealously oppose whatever might endanger their trade; but 'tis amazing that there should be any physicians mercenary and mean enough to pay their court to, and ingratiate themselves with, such persons, by the strongest efforts to prejudice the inventor of the Fever Powder at the expense of honour, dignity, and conscience. Believe me however, and let this be a part of your consolation, that there are very few physicians in Britain, who were born gentlemen, and whose fortunes place them above such sordid dependen

[blocks in formation]

"And must I go," th' illustrious mourner cry'd, "I who have serv'd thee still in faith and truth, Whose snow-white conscience no foul crime has died

From youth to manhood, infancy to youth, Like David, who have still rever'd thy word The sovereign of myself and servant of the Lord!" The judge Almighty heard his suppliant's moan, Repeal'd his sentence, and his health restor'd; The beams of mercy on his temples shone,

Shot from that Heaven to which his sighs had The Sun retreated at his maker's nod [soar'd; And miracles confirm the genuine work of God. But, O immortals! What had Ito plead [lance, When Death stood o'er me with his threat'ning When reason left me in the time of need,

And sense was lost in terrour or in trance, My sinking soul was with my blood inflam'd, And the celestial image sunk,defac'd and maim'd.

I sent back memory, in heedful guise,

To search the records of preceding years;
Home, like the raven to the ark3, she flies,
Croaking bad tidings to my trembling ears:
O Sun, again that thy retreat was made,
And threw my follies back into the friendly

But who are they, that bid affliction cease!-
Redemption and forgiveness, heavenly sounds!
Behold the dove that brings the branch of peace,
Behold the balm that heals the gaping wounds-
Vengeance divine's by penitence supprest―
She struggles with the angel, conquers, and is

Yet hold, presumption, nor too fondly climb,
And thou too hold, O horrible despair!
In man humility's alone sublime,

Who diffidently hopes he's Christ's own care— O all-sufficient Lamb! in death's dread hour Thy merits who shall slight, or who can doubt thy power?

But soul-rejoicing health again returns,

The blood meanders gentle in each vein, The lamp of life renew'd with vigour burns, And exil'd reason takes her seat againBrisk leaps the heart, the mind's at large once more,

To love, to praise, to bless, to wonder and adore. 1 Hezekiah vi. Isaiah xxxviii. 3 Gen. viii. 7. 4 Gen. xxxii. 24, 25, 26, 27, 28.

* Isaiah, chap. xxxviii.

[blocks in formation]

He rais'd the lame, the lepers he made whole,
He fix'd the palsied nerves of weak decay,
He drove out Satan from the tortur'd soul,

And to the blind gave or restor❜d the day,Nay more,-far more unequal'd pangs sustain'd, Till his lost fallen flock his taintless blood regain'd. My feeble feet refus'd my body's weight,

Nor wou'd my eyes admit the glorious light, My nerves convuls'd shook fearful of their fate, My mind lay open to the powers of night. He pitying did a second birth bestow A birth of joy-not like the first of tears and woe. Ye strengthen'd feet, forth to his altar move; * Quicken, ye new-strung nerves, th' enraptur'd


Ye Heav'n-directed eyes, o'erflow with love; Glow, glow, my soul, with pure seraphic fire; Deeds, thoughts, and words no more his mandates break,

But to his endless glory work, conceive, and speak.

O! penitence, to virtue near allied,

Thou can'st new joys e'en to the blest impart; The list'ning angels lay their harps aside

To hear the music of thy contrite heart;
And Heav'n itself wears a more radiant face,
When charity presents thee to the throne of grace.
Chief of metallic forms is regal golds;

Of elements, the limpid fount that flows;
Give me 'mongst gems the brilliant to behold;
O'er Flora's flock imperial is the rose:
Above all birds the sov'reign eagle soars;
And monarch of the field the lordly lion roars.

What can with great Leviathan compare,

Who takes his pastime in the mighty main? What, like the Sun, shines thro' the realms of air, And gilds and glorifies th' ethereal plain ?— Yet what are these to man, who bears the sway; For all was made for him-to serve and to obey.

Thus in high Heaven charity is great,

Faith, hope, devotion hold a lower place; On her the cherubs and the seraphs wait,

Her, every virtue courts, and every grace; See! on the right, close by th' Almighty's throne, In him she shines confest, who came to make her known.

s Pind. Olymp. 1.

Deep-rooted in my heart then let her grow,
That for the past the future may atone;
That I may act what thou hast giv'n to know,
That I may live for thee and thee alone,
And justify those sweetest words from Heav'n,
"That he shall love thee most to whom thou'st
most forgiven.”





Dated Oct. 8, 1738.

[ocr errors]

Or what can thoughts (tho' wild of wing they rove
Thro' the vast concave of th' etherial round)
If to the Heav'n of Heavens they'd wing their way
Advent'rous, like the birds of night they're lost,
And delug'd in the flood of dazzling day.—

May then the youthful, uninspired bard
Presume to hymn th' Eternal; may be soar
Where seraph, and where cherubin on high
Resound th' unceasing plaudits, and with them
In the grand chorus mix his feeble voice?

He may-if thou, who from the witless babe Ordainest honour, glory, strength and praise, Uplift th' unpinion'd Muse, and deign t'assist, Great Poet of the Universe, his song.

Before this earthly planet wound her course
Round Light's perennial fountain, before Light
Herself 'gan shine, and at th' inspiring word
Shot to existence in a blaze of day,

Before "the morning-stars together sang"
And hail'd thee Architect of countless worlds-
Thou art-all glorious, all-beneficent,

All wisdom and omnipotence thou art.
But is the era of ereation fix'd

As when these worlds began? Cou'd aught retard
Goodness, that knows no bounds, from blessing
Or keep th' immense Artificer in sloth?
Avaunt the dust-directed crawling thought,
That puissance immeasurably vast,
And bounty inconceivable cou'd rest
Content, exhausted with one week of action—
No-in th' exertion of thy righteous pow'r,

GIVE my Kislingbury estate to the university of Cambridge for ever: the rents of which shall be disposed of yearly by the vice-chancellor for the time being, as he the vice-chancellor, the master of Clare-Hall, and the Greek professor for the time being, or any two of them, shall agree. Which three persons aforesaid shall give out a subject, which subject shall for the first year be one or other of the perfections or attri-Ten thousand times more active than the Sun, Thou reign'd, and with a mighty hand compos'd butes of the Supreme Being, and so the succeeding years, till the subject is exhausted; and Systems innumerable, matchless all, afterwards the subject shall be either Death, All stampt with thine uncounterfeited seal. Judgment, Heaven, Hell, Purity of Heart, &c. or whatever else may be judged by the vicechancellor, master of Clare-Hall, and Greek professor to be most conducive to the honour of the Supreme Being and recommendation of virtue. And they shall yearly dispose of the rent of the above estate to that master of arts, whose poem on the subject given shall be best approved by them. Which poem I ordain to be always in English, and to be printed, the expense of which shall be deducted out of the product of the estate, and the residue given as a reward for the composer of the poem, or ode, or copy of


WE the underwritten, do assign Mr. Seaton's reward to C. Smart, M. A. for this poem on The Eternity of the Supreme Being and direct the said poem to be printed, according to the tenor of the will.

EDM. KEENE, vice-chancellor.
J. WILCOX, master of Clare-Hall.

March 25, 1750.

HAIL, wond'rous Being, who in pow'r supreme
Exists from everlasting, whose great name
Deep in the human heart, and every atom,
The air, the earth or azure main contains,
In un lecypher'd characters is wrote-
Incomprehensible!-O what can words,
The weak interpreters of mortal thoughts,

Luke vii. 41, 42, 43.

But yet (if still to more stupendous heights
The Muse unblam'd her aching sense may strain)
Perhaps wrapt up in contemplation deep,
The best of beings on the noblest theme
Might ruminate at leisure, seope immense
Th' eternal Pow'r and Godhead to explore,
And with itself th' omniscient mind replete.
This were enough to fill the boundless All,
This were a sabbath worthy the Supreme!
Perhaps enthron'd amidst a choicer few,
Ofsp'rits inferior, he might greatly plan
The two prime pillars of the universe,
Creation and Redemption—and a while
Pause with the grand presentiments of glory.
Perhaps but all's conjecture here below,
All ignorance, and self-plum'd vanity-
O thou, whose ways to wonder at's distrust,
Whom to describe's presumption (all we can,―
And all we may-) be glorified, be prais'd.

A day shall come when all this Earth shall pe


Nor leave behind ev'n Chaos; it shall come
When all the armies of the elements
Shall war against themselves, and mutual rage
To make perdition triumph; it shall come,
When the capacious atmosphere above
Shall in sulphureous thunders groan, and die,
And vanish into void; the Earth beneath
Shall sever in the centre, and devour

Th' enormous blaze of the destructive flames.-
Ye rocks, that mock the raving of the floods,
And proudly frown upon th' impatient deep,
Where is your grandeur now? Ye foaming waves,
That all along th' immense Atlantic roar,

In vain ye swell; will a few drops suffice

To quench the inextinguishable fire?

Ye mountains, on whose cloud-crown'd tops the cedars

Are lessen'd into shrubs, magnific piles,
That prop the painted chambers of the Heav'ns
And fix the Earth continual; Athos, where:
Where, Tenerif's thy stateliness to day?
What, Etna, are thy flames to these?-No more
Than the poor glow-worm to the golden Sun.

Nor shall the verdant vallies then remain
Safe in their meek submission; they the debt
Of nature and of justice too must pay.
Yet I must weep for you, ye rival fair,
Arno and Andalusia; but for thee

More largely and with filial tears must weep,
O Albion, O my country; thou must join,
In vain dissever'd from the rest, must join
The terrours of th' inevitable ruin.

Nor thou, illustrious monarch of the day;
Nor thou, fair queen of night; nor you, ye stars,
Tho' million leagues and million still remote,
Shall yet survive that day; ye must submit
Sharers, not bright spectators of the scene.

But tho' the Earth shall to the centre perish, Nor leave behind ev'n Chaos; tho' the air With all the elements must pass away, Vain as an ideot's dream; tho' the huge rocks, That brandish the tall cedars on their tops, With humbler vales must to perdition yield; Tho' the gilt Sun, and silver-tressed Moon With all her bright retinue, must be lost; Yet thou, Great Father of the world, surviv'st Eternal, as thou wert: yet still survives The soul of man immortal, perfect now, And candidate for unexpiring joys.

He comes! He comes! the awful trump I hear; The flaming sword's intolerable blaze I see; He comes! th' archangel from above. "Arise, ye tenants of the silent grave, Awake incorruptible and arise; From east to west, from the antarctic pole To regions hyperborean, all ye sons, Ye sons of Adam, and ye heirs of Heav'nArise, ye tenants of the silent grave, Awake incorruptible and arise."

'Tis then, nor sooner, that the restless mind Shall find itself at home; and like the ark Fix'd on the mountain-top, shall look aloft O'er the vague passage of precarious life; And, winds and waves and rocks and tempests past,

Enjoy the everlasting calm of Heav'n:

'Tis then, nor sooner, that the deathless soul Shall justly know its nature and its rise:

View him with fearful love; let truth pronounce,
And adoration on her bended knee
With Heav'n directed hands confess his reign,
And let th' angelic, archangelic band
With all the hosts of Heav'n, cherubic forms,
And forms seraphic, with their silver trumps
And golden lyres attend:-"For thou art holy,
For thou art one, th' Eternal, who alone
Exerts all goodness, and transcends all praise."





MR. SEATON'S WILL, Dated Oct. 8. 1738.

I GIVE my Kislingbury estate to the university of Cambridge for ever: the rents of which shall be disposed of yearly by the vice-chancellor for the time being, as he the vice-chancellor, the master of Clare-Hall, and the Greek professor for the time being, or any two of them shall agree. Which three persons aforesaid shall give out a subject, which subject shall for the first year be one or other of the perfections or attributes of the Supreme Being, and so the succeeding years, till the subject is exhausted; and afterwards the subject shall be either Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell, Purity of Heart, &c. or whatever else may be judged by the vicechancellor, master of Clare-Hall, and Greek professor to be most conducive to the honour of the Supreme Being and recommendation of virtue. And they shall yearly dispose of the rent of the above estate to that master of arts, whose poem on the subject given shall be best approved by them. Which poem I ordain to be always in English, and to be printed; the expense of which shall be deducted out of the product of the estate, and the residue given as a reward for the composer of the poem, or ode, or copy of


WE the underwritten do assign Mr. Seaton's reward to C. Smart, M. A. for his poem on The Immensity of the Supreme Being, and direct the said poem to be printed,

'Tis then the human tongue new-tun'd shall give according to the tenor of the will. Praises more worthy the eternal ear.

Yet what we can, we ought;-and therefore,

[blocks in formation]

EDM. KEENE, vice-chancellor.
J. WILCOX, master of Clare-Hall.

ONCE more I dare to rouse the sounding string,
The poet of my God-Awake my glory,
Awake my lute and harp-inyself shall wake,
Soon as the stately night-exploring bird
In lively lay sings welcome to the dawn.

List ye! how Nature with ten thousand tongues Begins the grand thanksgiving. Hail, all hail,

Ye tenants of the forest and the field!
My fellow subjects of th' eternal King,
I gladly join your matins, and with you
Confess his presence, and report his praise.

O thou, who or the lambkin, or the dove,
When offer'd by the lowly, meek, and poor,
Prefer'st to pride's whole hecatomb, accept
This mean essay, nor from thy treasure-house
Of Glory' immense, the orphan's might exclude.
What tho' th' Almighty's regal throne be rais'd
High o'er yon azure Heav'n's exalted dome
By mortal eye unken'd-where East nor West
Nor South, nor blust'ring North has breath to

Albeit he there with angels, and with saints
Hold conference, and to his radiant host
Ev'n face to face stand visibly confest:
Yet know that nor in presence or in pow'r
Shines he less perfect here; 'tis man's dim eye
That makes th' obscurity. He is the same,
Alike in all his universe the same.

Whether the mind along the spangled sky
Measure her pathless walk, studious to view
Thy works of vaster fabric, where the planets
Weave their harmonious rounds, their march di-

Still faithful, still inconstant to the Sun;
Or where the comet thro' space infinite
(Tho' whirling worlds oppose, and globes of fire)
Darts, like a javelin, to his destin'd goal.
Or where in Heav'n above the Heav'n of Heav'ns
Burn brighter suns, and goodlier planets roll
With satellites more glorious-Thou art there.
Or whether on the Ocean's hoist'rous back
Thou ride triumphant, and with out-stretch'd


Curb the wild winds and discipline the billows,
The suppliant sailor finds thee there, his chief,
His only help-when thou rebuk'st the storm-
It ceases and the vessel gently glides
Along the glassy level of the calm.

Oh! cou'd I search the bosom of the sea, Down the great depth descending; there thy works

Wou'd also speak thy residence; and there
Wou'd I thy servant, like thy still profound,
Astonish'd into silence muse thy praise!
Behold! behold! th' unplanted garden round
Of vegetable coral, sea-flow'rs gay,

And shrubs, with amber, from the pearl-pav'd bottom

Rise richly varied, where the finny race
In blithe security their gambols play :
While high above their heads Leviathan
The terrour and the glory of the main
His pastime takes with transport, proud to see
The ocean's vast dominion all his own.

Hence thro' the genial bowels of the Earth
Easy may fancy pass; till at thy mines,
Gani, or Raolconda, she arrive,
And from the adamant's imperial blaze
Form weak ideas of her maker's glory.
Next to Pegu or Ceylon let me rove,
Where the rich ruby (deem'd by sages old
Of sovereign virtue) sparkles ev'n like Sirius
And blushes into flames. Thence will I go
To undermine the treasure-fertile womb
Of the huge Pyrenean, to detect
The agate and the deep-intrench'd gem

Of kindred jasper-Nature in them both
Delights to play the mimic on herself;
And in their veins she oft pourtrays the forms
Of leaning hills, of trees erect, and streams
Now stealing softly on, now thund'ring down
In desperate cascade, with flow'rs and beasts
And all the living landscape of the vale.
In vain thy pencil, Claudio, or Poussin,
Or thine, immortal Guido, wou'd essay
Such skill to imitate-it is the hand

Of God himself-for God himself is there.
Hence with th' ascending springs let me ad-

'Thro' beds of magnets, minerals and spar,
Up to the mountain's summit, there t'indulge
Th' ambition of the comprehensive eye,
That dares to call th' horizon all her own.
Behold the forest, and th' expansive verdure
Of yonder level lawn, whose smooth-shorn sod
No object interrupts, unless the oak

His lordly head uprears, and branching arms
Extends-behold in regal solitude,

And pastoral magnificence he stands
So simple! and so great! the under-wood
Of meaner rank an awful distance keep.
Yet thou art there, yet God himself is there
Ev'n on the bush (tho' not as when to Moses
He shone in burning majesty reveal'd)
Nathless conspicuous in the linnet's throat
Is his unbounded goodness-Thee her Maker,
Thee her Preserver chants she in her song;
While the all emulative vocal tribe
The grateful lesson learn-no other voice
Is heard, no other sound-for in attention
Buried, ev'n babbling Echo holds her peace.
Now from the plains, where th' unbounded

Gives liberty her utmost scope to range,
Turn we to yon enclosures, where appears
Chequer'd variety in all her forms,

Which the vague mind attract and still suspend
With sweet perplexity. What are yon tow'rs
The work of lab'ring man and clumsy art
Seen with the ring-dove's nest-on that tall beech
Her pensile house the feather'd artist builds—
The rocking winds molest her not; for see,
With such due poise the wond'rous fabric's hung,
That, like the compass in the bark, it keeps
True to itself and stedfast ev'n in storms.
Thou ideot, that assertst there is no God,
View and be dumb forever-


Go bid Vitruvious or Palladio build
The bee his mansion, or the ant her cave-
Go call Correggio, or let Titian come
To paint the hawthorn's bloom, or teach the
To blush with just vermilion-hence away-
Hence ye prophane! for God himself is here.
Vain were th' attempt, and impious to trace
Thro' all his works th' Artificer divine-
And tho' nor shining sun, nor twinkling star
Bedeck'd the crimson curtains of the sky;
Tho' neither vegetable, beast, nor bird
Were extant on the surface of this ball,
Nor lurking gem beneath; tho' the great sea
Slept in profound stagnation, and the air
Had left no thunder to pronounce its maker;
Yet man at home, within himself, might find
The Deity immense, and in that frame

So fearfully, so wonderfully made,

« ForrigeFortsæt »