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The lion tells him—“ I am monarch here"- That oft the beast has seem'd to judge the man.
(If such who plead for Providence may seem In measure, as by force of instinct drawn, In modern eyes,) shall make the doctrine clear. Or by necessity constrain'd, they live
Where England, stretch'd towards the setting Sun, Dependent upon man ; those in his fields, Narrow and long, o'erlooks the western wave, These at his crib, and some beneath his roof. Dwelt young Misagathus; a scorner he They prove too often at how dear a rate
Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent, He sells protection.— Witness at his foot
Vicious in act, in temper savage-fierce. The spaniel, dying for some venial fault
He journey'd ; and his chance was as he went Under dissection of the knotted scourge;
To join a trav'ller, of far different note, Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells Evander, fam'd for piety, for years Driv'n to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs, Deserving honor, but for wisdom more. To madness ; while the savage at his heels Fame had not left the venerable man Laughs at the frantic suff'rer's fury, spent
A stranger to the manners of the youth, Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown.
Whose face, too, was familiar to his view. He too is witness, noblest of the train
Their way was on the margin of the land, That wait on man, the flight-performing horse; O’er the green summit of the rocks, whose base With unsuspecting readiness he takes
Beats, back the roaring surge, scarce heard so high. His murd'rer on his back, and, push'd all day The charity, that warm'd his heart, was mov'd With bleeding sides and flanks, that heave for life, At sight of the man-monster. With a smile, To the far-distant goal, arrives and dies.
Gentle, and affable, and full of grace, So little mercy shows who needs so much! As fearful of offending whom he wish'd Does law, so jealous in the cause of man,
Much to persuade, he plied his ear with truths Denounce no doom on the delinquent? None. Not harshly thunder'd forth, or rudely press'd, He lives, and o'er his brimming beaker boasts But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. (As if barbarity were high desert)
" And dost thou dream,” th' impenetrable man Th' inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise Exclaim'd, “ that me the lullabies of age, Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose And fantasies of dotards such as thou, The honors of his matchless horse his own. Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in me? But many a crime, deem'd innocent on Earth, Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave Is register'd in Heav'n; and these no doubt Need no such aids, as superstition lends, Have each their record, with a curse annex'd. To steel their hearts against the dread of death." Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, He spoke, and to the precipice at hand But God will never. When he charg'd the Jew Push'd with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks, T'assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise ; And the blood thrills and curdles, at the thought And when the bush-exploring boy, that seiz'd Of such a gulf as he design'd his grave. The young, to let the parent bird go free; But, though the felon on his back could dare Prov'd he not plainly, that his meaner works The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed Are yet his care, and have an int'rest all, Declin'd the death, and wheeling swiftly round All, in the universal Father's love?
Or e'er his hoof had press'd the crumbling verge, On Noah, and in him on all mankind,
Based his rider, sav'd against his will. The charter was conferr'd, by which we hold The frenzy of the brain may be redressid The flesh of animals in fee, and claim
By med'cine well applied, but without grace O'er all we feed on pow'r of life and death. The heart's insanity admits no cure. But read the instrument, and mark it well : Enrag'd the more, by what might have reformd Th' oppression of a tyrannous control
His horrible intent, again be sought Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield Destruction, with a zeal to be destroy'd, Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, With sounding whip, and rowels dyed in blood. Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute ! But still in vain. The Providence, that meant The Governor of all, himself to all
A longer date to the far nobler beast,
Spar'd yet again th' ignoble for his sake.
Incurable obduracy evinc'd,
His rage grew cool; and pleas'd, perhaps, t' have earn d Not seldom, his avenging arm, to smite
So cheaply the renown of that attempt, Th' injurious trampler upon Nature's law,
With looks of some complacence he resum'd That claims forbearance even for a brute.
His road, deriding much the blank amaze
So on they far'd. Discourse on other themes
(As is the course of rash and fiery men,) To interfere, though in so just a cause :
The rude companion smild, as if transform’d. And makes the task his own. Inspiring dumb But 'twas a transient calm. A storm was near, And helpless victims with a sense so keen An unsuspected storm. His hour was come, of injury, with such knowledge of their strength, The impious challenger of Pow'r divine And such sagacity to take revenge,
Was now to learn, that Heav'n, though slow to wrath, Is never with impunity defied.
And figure of the man, his secret aim, His horse, as he bad caught his master's mood, That oft we owe our safety to a skill Snorting, and starting into sudden rage,
We could not teach, and must despair to learn. Unbidden, and not now to be controllid,
But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop
And useful quality, and virtue too,
Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat
And trivial favors, lasting as the life, (Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, And glist’ning even in the dying eye. Yet wanting sensibility) the man,
Man praises man. Desert in arls or arms Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Wins public honor; and ten thousand sit An inadvertent step may crush the snail,
Patiently present at a sacred song, That crawls at ev'ning in the public path;
Commemoration mad; content to hear But he that has humanity, forewarn’d,
(0 wonderful effect of music's power!) Will tread aside and let the reptile live.
Messiah's eulogy for Handel's sake. The creeping vermin, lothesome to the sight, But less, methinks, than sacrilege might serveAnd charg'd, perhaps, with venom, that intrudes, (For was it less? what heathen would have dar'd A visitor unwelcome, into scenes
To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath, Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove,
And hang it up in honor of a man?) The chamber, or resectory, may die :
Much less might serve, when all that we design A necessary act incurs no blame.
Is but to gratify an itching ear,
Yes—we remember him ; and while we praise Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm,
A talent so divine, remember too
To buckram out the mem’ry of a man.
And measure of th' offence, rebukes a deed
Less impious than absurd, and owing more Who in his sov'reign wisdom made them all. To want of judgment than to wrong design. Ye, therefore, who li ve mercy, teach your sons So in the chapel of old Ely-House, To love it too. The spring-time of our years When wand'ring Charles, who meant to be the third, Is soon dishonor'd and defil'd in most
Had fled from William, and the news was fresh, By budding ills, that asl a prudent hand
The simple clerk, but loyal, did announce, To check them. But, alus! none sooner shoots, And eke did rear right merrily, two sta ves, If unrestrain'd, into luxuriant growth,
Sung to the praise and glory of King George! Than cruelty, most dev'lish of them all.
-Man praises man; and Garrick's mem'ry next, Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
When time hath somewhat mellow'd it, and made And righteous limitation of its act,
The idol of our worship while he liv'd
In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine.
The theatre, 100 small, shall suffocate Distinguish'd much by reason, and still more Its squeez'd contents, and more than it admits By our capacity of Grace divine,
Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return From creatures, that exist but for our sake, Ungratified: for there some noble lord Which, having serv'd us, perish, we are held Shall stuff his shoulders with King Richard's bunch, Accountable; and God si ne future day
Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak, Will reckon with us roundly for th' abuse
And strut, and storm, and straddle, starop and stare, Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust.
To show the world how Garrick did not act.
For Garrick was a worshipper himself;
And call’d the world to worship on the banks
Of Avon, fam'd in song. Ah, pleasant proof That man's attainments in his own concerns, That piety has still in human hearts March'd with th' experiness of the brutes in theirs, Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct. Are oft-times vanquish'd and thrown far behind. The mulb'rry-tree was hung with blooming wreaths ; Some show that nice sagacity of smell,
The mulb'rry-tree stood centre of the dance ; And read with such discernment, in the port The mulb'rry-tree was hymn'd with dulcet airs;
And from his touchwood trunk the mulb'rry-tree That not l'attempt it, arduous as he deerns
The labor, were a task more arduous still.
O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true, So 'twas a hallow'd time: decorum reign'd, Scenes of accomplish'd bliss! which who can see And mirth without offence. No few return'd, Though but in distant prospect, and not feel Doubtless much edified, and all refresh'd.
His soul refresh'd with foretaste of the joy ! -Man praises man. The rabble all alive
Rivers of gladness water all the Earth, From tippling benches, cellars, stalls, and styes, And clothe all climes with beauty : the reproach Swarm in the streets. The statesman of the day, Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field A pompous and slow-moving pageant, comes. Laughs with abundance; and the land, once lean Some shout him, and some hang upon his car, Or fertile only in its own disgrace, To gaze in 's eyes, and bless him. Maidens wave Exults to see its thistly curse repeald. Their kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy :
The various seasons woven into one, While others, not so satisfied, unhorse
And that one season an eternal spring, The gilded equipage, and turning loose
The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve. For there is none to covet, all are full. Why? what has charm'd them? Hath he sav'd the The lion, and the libbard, and the bear, state ?
Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon, No. Doth he purpose its salvation ? No.
| Together, or all gambol in the shade Enchanting novelty, that moon at full,
Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. That finds out ev'ry crevice of the head,
Antipathies are none. No foe to man
Stretch'd forth to dally with the crested worm,
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. And jusi direction sacred, to a thing
All creatures worship man, and all mankind Doom'd to the dust, or lodg'd already there. One Lord, one Father. Error has no place : Encomium in old time was poets' work;
That creeping pestilence is driv'n away: But poets, having lavishly long since
The breath of Heav'n has chas'd it. In the heart Exhausted all materials of the art,
No passion touches a discordant string, The task now falls into the public hand ;
But all is harmony and love. Disease And I, contented with an humble theme,
Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood Have pour'd my stream of panegyric down
Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. The vale of Nature, where it creeps, and winds One song employs all nations; and all cry, Among her lovely works with a secure
Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us !" And unambitious course, reflecting clear,
The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes. Shout to each other, and the mountain-tops And I am recompens'd, and deem the toils From distant mountains catch the flying joy; Of poetry not losi, if verse of mine
Till, nation after nation taught the strain, May stand between an animal and woe,
Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge.
Behold the measure of the promise fillid; The groans of Nature in this nether world, See Salem built, the labor of a God! Which Heav'n has heard for ages, have an end. | Bright as a sun the sacred city shines; Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung,
All kingdoms and all princes of the Earth Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp, Flock to that light; the glory of all lands The time of rest, the promis'd sabbath, comes. Flows into her; unbounded is her joy, Six thousand years of sorrow have well-nigh And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, Fulfill'd their tardy and disastrous course
Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there : * Over a sinful world; and what remains
The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, of this tempestuous state of human things And Saba's spicy groves, pay tribute there. Is merely as the working of a sea
Praise is in all her gates: upon her walls,
And in her streets, and in her spacious courts,
Kneels with the native of the farthest west;
And worships. Her report has travel'd forth
Into all lands. From ev'ry clime they come
Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet Saw never, such as Heav'n stoops down to see. (once Not to be wrong’d by a mere mortal touch:
Thus Heav'nward all things tend. For all were Nor can the wonders it records be sung
Perfect, and all must be at length restor'd. To meaner music, and not suffer loss.
So God has greatly purpos’d; who would else
In his dishonor'd works himself endure
* Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progeni. On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair,
tors of the Arabs, in the prophetic scripture bere alluded Such is the impulse and the spur he feels,
to, may be reasonably considered as representatives of the To give it praise proportion'd to its worth,
Gentiles at large.
Dishonor, and be wrong'd without redress. To wand'ring sheep, resolv'd to follow none. Haste then, and wheel away a shatter'd world, Two gods divide them all—Pleasure and Gain : Ye slow-revolving seasons! we would see
For these they live, they sacrifice to these, (A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet) And in their service wage perpetual war A world, that does not dread and hate his laws, With Conscience and with thee. Lust in their hearts, And suffer for its crime ; would learn how fair And mischief in their hands, they roam the Earth, The creature is, that God pronounces good, To prey upon each other: stubborn, fierce, How pleasant in itself what pleases him.
High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace. Here ev'ry drop of honey hides a sting;
Thy prophets speak of such; and, noting down Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'rs; The features of the last degen'rate times, And ev’n the joy, that haply some poor heart Exhibit ev'ry lineament of these Derives from Heav'n, pure as the fountain is, Come then, and, added to thy many crowns, Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint
Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest, From touch of human lips, at best impure. Due to thy last and most effectual work, O for a world in principle as chaste
Thy word fulfill'd, the conquest of a world! As this is gross and selfish! over which
He is the happy man, whose life e'en now Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway,
Shows somewhat of that happier life to come ;
Content indeed to sojourn while he must
Below the skies, but having there his home.
The World o'erlooks him in her busy search
Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the World. A worthless form, than to decide aright.
She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not ; Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse,
He seeks not hers, for he has prov'd them vain; Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace) He cannot skim the ground like summer birds With lean performance ape the work of Love! Pursuing gilded flies; and such he deems
Come then, and, added to thy many crowns, Her honors, her emoluments, her joys. Receive yet one, the crown of all the Earth, Therefore in contemplation is his bliss, Thou who alone art worthy! It was thine
Whose pow'r is such, that whom she lifts from Earth By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth;
She makes familiar with a Heav'n unseen, And thou hast made it thine by purchase since, And shows him glories yet to be reveal'd. And overpaid its value with thy blood.
Not slothful he, though seeming unemploy'd, Thy saints proclaim thee King; and in their hearts and censur'd oft as useless. Stillest streams Thy title is engraven with a pen
Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird
That flutters least, is longest on the wing.
His warfare is within. There, unfatigu'd,
His fervent spirit labors. There he fights, The very spirit of the world is tir'd
And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself, Of its own taunting question, ask'd so long, And never-with’ring wreaths, compar'd with which “Where is the promise of your Lord's approach ?" The laurels that a Cæsar reaps are weeds. The infidel has shot his bolts away,
Perhaps the self-approving haughty World, Till, his exhausted quiver yielding none,
That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks He gleans the blunted shafts, that have recoil'd, Scarce deigns to notice him, or, if she see, And aims them at the shield of Truth again. Deems him a cipher in the works of God, The veil is rent, rent, too, by priestly hands, Receives advantage from his noiseless hours, That hides divinity from mortal eyes ;
Of what she little dreams. Perhaps she owes And all the mysteries to faith propos'd,
Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring Insulted and traduc'd, are cast asid,
And plenteous harvest, to the pray'r he makes, As useless, to the moles and to the bats.
When, Isaac-like, the solitary saint They now are deem'd the faithful, and are prais’d, Walks forth to meditate at eventide, Who, constant only in rejecting thee,
And think on her, who thinks not for herself.
Forgive him then, thou bustler in concerns
Account him an encumbrance on the state,
His sphere though humble, if that humble sphere
A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS.
Κεφαλαιον δη παιδειας ορθη τροφη.-Plato
Αρχη πολιτειας απασης νεων τροφα.-Dieg. Laert He serves his country, recompenses well The state, beneath the shadow of whose vine It is not from his form, in which we trace He sits secure, and in the scale of life
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace, Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place. That man, the master of this globe, derives The man, whose virtues are more felt than seen, His right of empire over all that lives. Must drop indeed the hope of public praise ;
That form, indeed, th' associate of a mind But, he may boast, what few that win it can, Vast in its powers, ethereal in its kind, That, if his country stand not by his skill,
That form, the labor of Almighty skill, At least his follies have not wrought her fall.
Fram'd for the service of a free-born will, Polite Refinement offers him in vain
Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control, Her golden lube, through which a sensual World But borrows all its grandeur from the soul. Draws gross impurity, and likes it well,
Hers is the state, the splendor, and the throne The neat conveyance hiding all the offence. An intellectual kingdom, all her own. Not that he peevishly rejects a mode,
For her the Mem’ry fills her ample page Because that World adopts it. If it bear
With truths pour'd down from ev'ry distant age; The stamp and clear impression of good sense,
For her amasses an unbounded store, And be not costly more than of true worth,
The wisdom of great nations, now no more; He puts it on, and for decorum sake
Though laden, not encumber'd with her spoil; Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she.
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil; She judges of refinement by the eye,
When, copiously supplied, then most enlarg d; He, by the test of conscience, and a heart
Still to be fed, and not to be surcharg'd.
To Nature's scenes than Nature ever knew.
At her command winds rise, and waters roar, For cleanly riddance, than for fair attire.
Again she lays them slumb'ring on the shore; So life glides smoothly and by stealth away,
With flow'r and fruit the wilderness supplies, More golden than that age of fabled gold
Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise. Renown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care For her the Judgment, umpire in the strife, Or stain'd with guilt, beneficent, approv'd
That Grace and Nature have to wage through life, of God and man, and peaceful in its end.
Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill, So glide my life away! and so at last,
Appointed sage preceptor to the Will, My share of duties decently fulfillid,
Condemns, approves, and with a faithful voice May some disease, not tardy to perform
Guides the decision of a doubtful choice. Its destin'd office, yet with gentle stroke,
Why did the fiat of a God give birth
fair Sun, and his attendant Earth? Beneath the turf, that I have often trod.
And, when descending he resigns the skies, It shall not grieve me then, that once when callid Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise, To dress a Sofa with the flow'rs of verse,
Whom Ocean feels through all his countless waves I play'd awhile, obedient to the fair,
And owns her pow'r on ev'ry shore he laves ? With that light task; but soon, to please her more, Why do the seasons still enrich the year, Whom flow'rs alone I knew would little please, Fruitful and young as in their first career? Let fall ih' unfinish'd wreath, and rov'd for fruit;
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rov'd far, and gather'd much : some harsb, 'tis true, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze ; Pick'd from the thorns and briers of reproof,
Summer in haste the thriving charge receives But wholesome, well-digested ; grateful some
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves, To palates, that can taste immortal truth ;
Till Autumn's fiercer heats and plenteous dews Insipid else, and sure to be despis'd.
Dye them at last in all their glowing hues.But all is in his hand, whose praise I seek. 'T were wild profusion all, and bootless waste, In vain the poet sings, and the world hears, Pow'r misemploy'd, munificence misplacid, If he regard not, though divine the theme. Had not its author dignified the plan, "Tis not in artful measures, in the chime
And crownd it with the majesty of man. And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre,
Thus form’d, thus plac'd, intelligent, and taught, To charın his ear, whose eye is on the heart;
Look where he will, the wonders God has wrought
Finds in a sober moment time to pause,