Not so, when held within their proper bounds, And guiltless of offence, they range the air, Or take their pastime in the spacious field: There they are privileg'd. And he that hunts Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong; Disturbs th' economy of nature's realm, Who, when she form'd, design'd them an abode. The sum is this; if man's convenience, health, Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. Else they are all, the meanest things that are, As free to live and to enjoy that life, As God was free to form them at the first, Who, in his sovereign wisdom, made them all. Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons To love it too. The spring time of our years Is soon dishonour'd and defil'd in most, By budding ills that ask a prudent hand To check them. But alas! none sooner shoots
If anrestrain'd into luxuriant growth, Than cruelty, most dev'lish of them all. Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule And righteous limitation of its act, By which heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man; And he that shows none, being ripe in years, And conscious of the outrage he commits,
Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn.
Paraphrase on the latter Part of the 6th Chapter of St.
WHEN my breast labours with oppressive care, And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear; While all my warring passions are at strife, Oh! let me listen to the words of life ! Raptures deep felt his doctrine did impart, And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart. "Think not, when all your scanty stores afford Is spread at once upon the sparing board; Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, While on the roof the howling tempest bears; What farther shall this feeble life sustain, And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again..
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed ? And the fair body its investing weed ? Behold! and look away your low despair- See the light tenants of the barren air : To them, nor stores, nor granaries, belong; Nought, but the woodland, and the pleasing song; Yet your kind heavenly Father bends his eye On the least wing that flits along the sky. To him they sing, when spring renews the plain To him they cry, in winter's pinching reign; Nor is their music, nor their plaint in vain; He hears the gay, and the distressful call; And with unsparing bounty fills them all.
"Observe the rising lily's snowy grace;.. Observe the various vegetable race; They neither toil nor spin but careless grow;" Yet see how warm they blush! how bright they glow! What regal vestments can with them compare! What king so shining! or what queen so fair!
" If ceaseless, thus, the fowls of heaven he feeds If o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads ; Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say? Is he unwise ? or are ye less than they?
The Death of a good Man a strong Incentive to Virtue THE chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heav'n. Fly, ye profane! if not, draw near with awe, Receive the blessing, and adore the chance, That threw in this Bethesda your disease: If unrestor'd by this, despair your cure. For, here, resistless demonstration dwells; A death-bed's a detector of the heart. Here tir'd dissimulation drops her mask, Through life's grimace that mistress of the scene! Here real and apparent are the same. You see the mau; you see his hold on heav'n, If sound his virtue, as Philander's sound. Heaven waits not the last moment; owns her friends On this side death; and points them out to men;
A lecture, silent, but of sov'reign pow'r! To vice, confusion; and to virtue, peace.
Whatever farce the boastful hero plays,
Virtue alone has majesty in death; And greater still the more the tyrant frowns.
Reflections on a Future State, from a review of Winter. 'Tis done! dread winter spreads his latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year. How dead the vegetable kingdom lies! How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends His desolate domain. Behold fond man! See here thy pictured life: pass some few years, Thy flow'ring spring, thy summer's ardent strength, Thy sober autumn fading into age, And pale concluding winter comes at last, And shuts the seene. Ah! whither now are fled, Those dreams of greatness? Those unsolid hopes Of happiness? those longings after fame ? Those restless cares? those busy bustling days? Those gay-spent festive nights? those veering thoughts Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life? All now are vanished! Virtue sole survives, Immortal, never failing friend of man, His guide to happiness on high. And see! 'Tis come the glorious morn! the second birth Of heaven and earth! awak'ning nature hears The new creating word: and starts to life, In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death Forever free. The great eternal scheme, Involving all, and in a perfect whole Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads, To reason's eye refined clears up apace. Ye vainly wise! Ye blind presumptuous! now, Coufounded in the dust, adore that Power, And Wisdom oft arraign'd; see now the cause, Why unassuming worth in secret lived, And died neglected; why the good man's share In life was gall and bitterness of soul; Why the lone widow and her orphans pined In starving solitude; while luxury, In palaces, lay straining her low thought, To form unreal wants; why heaven-born truth,
And moderation fair, wore the red marks Of superstition's scourge: why licens'd pain, 'That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe, Imbitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distressed! Ye noble few! who here unbending stand Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile And what your bounded view, which only saw A little part, deem'd evil, is no more : The storms of wintry time will quickly pass, And one unbounded spring encircle all.
Adam's Advice to Eve, to avoid Temptation.
"O WOMAN, best are all things as the will Of God ordained them; bis creating hand Nothing imperfect or deficient left Of all that he created, much less man, Or aught that might his happy state secure, Secure from outward force. Within himself The danger lies, yet lies within his power; Against his will he can receive no harm. But God left free the will; for what obeys Reason, is free, and reason he made right; But bid her well beware, and still erect, Lest by some fair appearing good surpris'd, She dictate false, and misinform the will To do what God expressly hath forbid. Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoins That I should mind thee oft; and mind thou me. Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve, Since reason not impossibly may meet Some specious object by the foe suborn'd, And fall into deception unaware,
Not keeping strictest watch as she was warn'd. Seek not temptation then, which to avoid Were better, and most likely if from me Thou sever not; trial will come unsought. Wouldst thou approve thy constancy? approve First thy obedience; th' other who can know, Not seeing thee attempted, who attest? But if thou think, trial unsought may find Us both securer than thus warned thou seem'st, Go, for thy stay, not free, absents thee more; Go in thy native innocence; rely
On what thou hast of virtue; summon all; For God towards thee has done his part; do thine."
SECTION IX,
On Procrastination.
BE wise to-day; 'tis madness to defert Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. Procrastination is the thief of time. Year after year it steals, till all are fled ; And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live;" Forever on the brink of being born. All pay themselves the compliment to think, They, one day, shall not drivel; and their pride On this reversion takes up ready praise; At least, their own; their future selves applaud; How excellent that life they ne'er will lead! Time lodg'd in their own hands is folly's vails; That lodg'd in fate's, to wisdom they consign ; The thing they can't bat purpose, they postpone. 'Tis not in folly, not to scorn a fool: And scarce in human wisdom to do more. All promise is poor dilatory man; And that thro' ev'ry stage. When young, indeed, In full content, we sometimes nobly rest, Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise, At thirty, man suspects himself a fool: Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan; At fifty, chides his infamous delay; Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought, Resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same.
And why? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread; But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where past the shaft no trace is found. As from the wing no sear the sky retains; The parted wave no furrow from the keel;
« PreviousContinue » |