Warm at his bofom, from the springs of life
Chafing oppreffive damps and languid pain!
Or fhall I mention, where coeleftial Truth
Her awful light difcloses, to beftow
A more majeftic pomp on Beauty's frame?
For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100
More welcome touch his understanding's eye,
Than all the blandishments of found his ear,
Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet,
The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctur'd hues
To me have shone so pleasing, as when first
The hand of fcience pointed out the path..
In which the fun-beams gleaming from the west.
Fall on the watery cloud, whofe darkfome veil
Involves the orient; and that trickling fhower...
Piercing through every crystalline convex
Of clustering dew-drops to their flight oppos'd,
Recoil at length where concave all behind
The internal furface of each glafly orb
Repells their forward passage into air;
That thence direct they seek the radiant goal
From which their courfe began; and, as they strike
In different lines the gazer's obvious eye,
Affume a different luftre, through the brede
Of colours changing from the fplendid rofe
To the pale violet's dejected hue.
Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, That fprings to each fair object, while we trace Through all its fabric, wifdom's artful aim
Difpofing every part, and gaining ftill
By means proportion'd her benignant end?
Speak, ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd fteps
The lamp of science through the jealous maze
Of nature guides, when haply you reveal
Her secret honours: whether in the sky,
The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130
That wheel the penfile planets round the year;
Whether in wonders of the rowling deep,
Or the rich fruits of all-fuftaining earth,
Or fine-adjufted fprings of life and sense,
Ye fcan the counfels of their author's hand.
What, when to raise the meditated scene,
The flame of paffion, through the struggling foul
Deep-kindled, fhows across that fudden blaze
The object of its rapture, vaft of size,
With fiercer colours and a night of fhade?
What? like a ftorm from their capacious bed
The founding feas o'erwhelming, when the might
Of thefe eruptions, working from the depth
Of man's strong apprehenfion, fhakes his frame
Even to the bafe; from every naked sense
Of pain or pleafure diffipating all
Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil
Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times
To hide the feeling heart? Then nature speaks
'Her genuine language, and the words of men,
Big with the very motion of their fouls,
Declare with what accumulated force,
The impetuous nerve of paflion urges on
The native weight and energy of things.
Yet more: her honours where nor beauty claims, 155 Nor fhews of good the thirsty sense allure,
From paffion's power alone our nature holds
Effential pleasure. Paffion's fierce illapse
Rouzes the mind's whole fabric; with supplies
Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers
Intensely poiz'd, and polishes anew
By that collifion all the fine machine:
Else ruft would rife, and foulness, by degrees
Incumbering, choak at last what heaven design'd
For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.
-But fay, does every passion thus to man
Adminifter delight? That name indeed
Becomes the rofy breath of love; becomes
The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand
Of admiration: but the bitter shower
That forrow sheds upon a brother's grave,
But the dumb palfy of nocturnal fear,
Or those confuming fires that gnaw the heart
Of panting indignation, find we there
To move delight?-Then liften while my tongue 17!
The unalter'd will of heaven with faithful awe
Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach
My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd
Within his learned mind whate'er the schools
Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whifpering voice,
O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws
Which govern and support this mighty frame
univerfal being. Oft the hours
orn to eve have stolen unmark'd away,
While mute attention hung upon his lips,
As thus the fage his awful tale began.
'Twas in the windings of an ancient wood,
When spotless youth with solitude refigns
To fweet philofophy the ftudious day,
What time pale autumn fhades the filent eve,
Mufing I rov'd. Of good and evil much,
And much of mortal man my thought revolv'd;
When starting full on Fancy's gushing eye
The mournful image of Parthenia's fate,
That hour, O long belov'd and long deplor'd!
When blooming youth, nor gentlest wisdom's arts,
Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow,
Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears
Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave;
Thy agonizing looks, thy laft farewel
Struck to the inmoft feeling of my
As with the hand of death.
More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds
With hoarfer murmuring shook the branches. Dark As midnight storms, the scene of human things Appear'd before me; defarts, burning fands, Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen fouth, And desolation blasting all the west
With rapine and with murder: tyrant power
Here fits enthron'd with blood; the baleful charms 210 Of superstition there infect the skies,
And turn the fun to horror. Gracious heaven!
What is the life of man? Or cannot these,
Not these portents thy awful will fuffice?
That, propagated thus beyond their scope,
They rife to act their cruelties anew
In my afflicted bofom, thus decreed
The univerfal fenfitive of pain,
The wretched heirs of evils not its own!
Thus I impatient; when, at once effus'd, A flashing torrent of cœleftial day
Burst through the fhadowy void. With flow defcent
A purple cloud came floating through the sky,
And pois'd at length within the circling trees,
Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide
Its lucid orb, a more than human form
Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head,
And instant thunder fhook the confcious grove.
Then melted into air the liquid cloud,'
"Then all the fhining vision stood reveal'd:
A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound,
And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee,
Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist
Collected with a radiant zone of gold
Æthereal: there in myftic figns engravid,
I read his office high and sacred name,
Genius of human kind. Appall'd I gaz'd
The godlike prefence; for athwart his brow
Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern,
Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words
Like diftant thunders broke the murmuring air.
Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth!
And impotent thy tongue. Is thy fhort fpan
Capacious of this univerfal frame?"
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