The noble fire of an exalted mind,
With gentle female tenderness combin'd.
Her speech, was the melodious voice of love;
Her fong, the warbling of the vernal grove:
Her eloquence, was fweeter than her fong,
Soft as her heart, and as her reafon ftrong.
Her form, each beauty of her mind exprefs'd,
Her mind, was virtue, by the graces dreft.
ALL is the gift of industry ! whate'er
Exalts, embellishes, and renders life
Delightful In th' unconfcious breaft, while flept
The powers of man, be, roving, mixed with brutes;
Or, for his acorn-meal, fought the fierce bear:
A fhiv'ring wretch! aghaft and comfortless,
When the bleak north, with winter charg'd, let fly
Hail, rain, or fnow, or bitter breathing froft:
Then, to the fhelter of the cave he fled;
And the wild feafon, fordid, pin'd away.
Even defolate in crouds, his tedious days
Rolld heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along,
A wafte of time! till induftry approach'd,
And rous'd him from his miferable sloth;
His faculties unfolded; pointed out,
Where lavish nature the directing hand
Of art demanded; fhew'd him how to raise
His feeble force by the mechanic powers;
To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth;
77
On what to turn the piercing rage of fire;
On what, the torrent, and the gather'd blaft;
Gave the tall ancient foreft to his axe;
Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone,
Till, by degrees, the finifh'd frabric rofe;
Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur,
And wrapt them in the woolly vestment warm,
Or bright in gloffy filk, and flowing lawn;
With wholefome viands fill'd his table; pour'd
The generous glafs around, infpir'd to wake
The life-refining foul of decent wit:
Nor ftopp'd at barren bare neceffity;
But, ftill advancing bolder, led him on,
To pomp, to pleasure, elegance and grace;
And, breathing high ambition thro' his foul,
Set fcience, wifdom, glory, in his view,
And bade him be the lord of all below.
F God above, or man below,
'Tis ours to trace him only in our own.
He, who thro' vast immensity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compofe one universe,
Obferve how fyftem into fyftem runs,
What other planets circle other funs,
L. 5
What can we reason, but from what we know? Of man, what fee we, but his ftation here, From which to reafon, or to which refer?
Thro' worlds unnumber'd tho' the God be known,
What vary'd being peoples ev'ry star,
May tell why heav'n has made us as we are.
But, of this frame, the bearings, and the ties,
The ftrong connections, nice dependencies,
Gradations juft, has thy pervading foul
Look'd thro'? or, can a part contain the whole ?
In human works, tho' labour'd on with pain,
A thousand movements fcarce one purpose gain;
In God's, one fingle can its end produce;
Yet ferves to fecond, too, fome other use.
So man, who here feems principal alone,
Perhaps acts fecond to fome sphere unknown,
Touches fome wheel, or verges to fome goal;
'Tis but a part we fee, and not a whole.
WHEN the proud fteed fhall know why man reftrains His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains; When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod, Is now a victim, and now Egypt's god : Then shall man's pride and dulnefs comprehend His actions', paffions', being's, ufe and end; Why doing, fuff'ring, check'd, impell'd; and why, This hour a flave, the next a deity?
THEN, fay not, man's imperfect, heav'n in fault; Say, rather, man's as perfect as he ought: His knowledge meafur'd to his ftate and place; His time a moment, and a point his space.
ATHER of all! in ev'ry age,
In ev'ry clime ador'd,
FA
By faint, by favage, and by fage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Thou great firft caufe! leaft understood,
Who all my fense confin'd
To know but this, that thou art good,
And that myself am blind;
Yet gave me, in this dark eftate,
To fee the good from ill;
And, binding nature faft in fate,
Left free the human will;
What confcience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than hell to shun,'.
That, more than heav'n pursue.
What bleffings thy free bounty gives,
Let me not caft away;
For, God is paid, when man receives;
T' enjoy, is to obey.
Yet, not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound;
Or think thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round..
Let not this weak unknowing hand
Prefume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge thy foe.
If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay ;
If I am wrong, oh! teach my heart
To find that better way.
Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,
At ought thy wisdom has deny'd,
Or ought thy goodness lent.
Teach me, to feel another's woe;
To hide the fault I fee:
That mercy, I to others fhew,
That mercy, fhew to me.
Mean tho' I am (not wholly fo,
Since quicken'd by thy breath)
Oh! lead me, wherefoe'er I go,
Thro' this day's life or death.
This day, be bread and peace my lot:
All elfe beneath the fun, /
Thou know'ft, if beft beftow'd, or not:
And let thy will be done.
To thee, whofe temple is all space;
Whose altar, earth, fea, fkies;
One chorus let all being raise ;
All nature's incenfe rife.
|