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Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!

Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barb'rous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on th' Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me;
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full;
And where HE vital breathes there must be joy,
When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystie flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new pow'rs,
Will rising wonders sing; I cannot go
Where UNIVERSAL LOVE not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
From seeming evil still educing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression. But I lose
Myself in HIM, in light ineffable !
Come then, expressive silence, mus

his praise.

THOMSON

SECTION XXIII.

On Solitude.

O SOLITUDE, romantic maid!
Whether by nodding towers you tread,
Or haunt the desert's trackless gloom,
Or hover o'er the yawning tomb,
Or climb the Andes' clifted side,
Or by the Nile's coy source abide,
Or, starting from your half-year's sleep
From Hecla view the thawy deep,
Or, at the purple dawn of day,
Tadmor's marble wastes survey ;
You, recluse, again I woo,
And again your steps pursue.
Plum'd conceit, himself surveying,
Folly with her shadow playing,
Purse-proud elbowing insolence,
Bloated empiric, puff'd pretence,
Noise that through a trumpet speaks

Laughter in loud peals that breaks,
Intrusion, with a fopling's face,
(Ignorant of time and place,)
Sparks of fire dissension blowing,
Ductile, court-bred flattery bowing,
Restraint's stiff neck, grimace's leer,
Squint-ey'd censure's artful sneer,
Ambition's buskins, steep'd in blood,
Fly thy presence, Solitude !

Sage reflection bent with years,
Conscious virtue, void of fears,
Muffled silence, wood-nymph shy,
Meditation's piercing eye,
Bleyon peace on moss reclin'd,
Roospect that seans the mind,
Raj earth-gazing reverie,
Blusing artless modesty,
Heal that suuffs the morning air,
Full truth with bosom bare,
Inspirtio, nature's child,
Seek te softary wild.

Wha all nature's hush'd asleep,
Nor low, nor gult, their vigils keep,
Soft yo' leave your cavern'd den,
And wider o'er the works of men;
But whm Phosphor brings the dawn,
By herappled coursers drawn,
Again u to the wild retreat,
And thearly huntsman meet,
Wheres you pensive pass along,
You can the distant shepherd's song,
Or brusfrom herbs the pearly dew,
Or the ing primrose view,
Devotidends her heaven plum'd wings,
You md, and nature with you sings.
But whmid-day fervours glow,
To upla airy shades you go,

Where er sun-burnt woodman came,
Nor spouan chas'd the timid game :
And thebeneath an oak reclin'd,
With day waterfalls behind,

You sin rest.

Till theful bird of night,

From neighb'ring poplar's height,

Wake you with her solemn strain,
And teach pleas'd echo to complain.

With you roses brighter bloom,
Sweeter every sweet perfumé ;
Purer every fountain flows,
Stronger every wilding grows.

Let those toil for gold who please,
Or, for fame renounce their ease.
What is fame? An empty bubble;
Gold? a shining, constant trouble.
Let them for their country bleed !
What was Sidney's, Raleigh's meed ?
Man's not worth a moment's pain;
Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain.
Then let me, sequester'd fair,
To your sibyl grot repair;
On yon hanging cliff it stands,
Scoop'd by nature's plastic hands,
Bosom'd in the gloomy shade
Of cypress not with age decard;
Where the owl still hooting sits,
Where the bat incessant Ants;
There in loftier strains I'll sing
Whence the changing seasons sping;
Tell how storms deform the skie
Whence the waves subside and be,
Trace the comet's blazing tail,
Weigh the planets in a scale;
Bend, great God, before thy shre;
'The bournless macrocosm's thing

Since in each scheme of life le fail'd,
And disappointment seems ental;
Since all on earth I valued mos
My guide, my stay, my friend iost;
O Solitude, now give me rest,
And hush the tempest in my bust.
O gently deign to guide my fee
To your hermit-trodden seat;
Where I may live at last my
Where I at last may die un
I spoke : she turn'd her magi;
And thus she said, or seem'do

Youth, you're mistaken, if you think to find
In shades, a medicine for a troubled mind:
Wan grief will haunt you wheresoe'er you go,
Sigh in the breeze, and in the streamlet flow.
There, pale inaction pines his life away;
And satiate mourns the quick return of day:
There, naked frenzy laughing wild
h pain,
Or bears the blade, or plunges in the main :
There, superstition broods o'er all her fears,
And yells of demons in the zephyr hears.
But if a hermit you're resolv'd to dwell,
And bid to social life a last farewell;

'Tis impious.

God never made an independent man;
'Twould jar the concord of his general pian.
See every part of that stupendous whole,
"Whose body nature is, and God the soul;"
To one great end the general good conspire,
From matter, brute, to man, to seraph, fire.
Should man through nature solitary roam,
His will his sovereign, every where his home,
What force would guard him from the lion's jaw !
What swiftness wing him from the panther's paw!
Or should fate lead him to some safer shore,
Where panthers never prowl, nor lions roar,
Where liberal nature all her charms bestows,
Suus shine, birds sing, flowers bloom, and water flows,
Fool, dost thou think he'd revel on the store,
Absolve the care of Heaven, nor ask for more ?
Tho' waters flow'd, show'rs bloom'd, and Phœbus shone, -
He'd sigh, he'd murmur, that he was alone.
For know, the Maker on the human breast
A sense of kindred, country, man, impress'd.

Though nature's works the ruling mind declare,
And well deserve inquiry's serious care,
The God (whate'er misanthropy may say,)
Shines. beams in man with most unclouded ray.
What boots it thee to fly from pole to pole ?
Hang o'er the sun, and with the planets roll ?
What boots through space's furthest bourns to roam?
If thou, O man, a stranger art at home.
Then know thyself, the human mind survey;
The use, the pleasure, will the toil repay.

Nor study only, practise what you know; Your life, your knowledge, to mankind you owe. With Plato's oli wreath the bays entwine; Those who in so, should in practice shine. Say, does the learned lord of Hagley's shade, Charm mayo much by mossy fountains laid, A's when ager d he stems corruption's course, And shakes the senate with a Tully's force ? When freedom gasp'd beneath a Cæsar's feet, Then public virtue might to shades retreat: But where she breaths, the least may useful be, And freedom, Britain, still belongs to thee. Though man's ungrateful, or though fortune frown; Is the reward of worth a song, or crown ? Nor yet unrecompens'd are virtue's pains; Good Allen lives, and bounteous Brunswick reigns. On each condition disappointments wait, Enter the hut, and force the guarded gate. Nor dare repine, through early friendship Meed; From love. the world, and all its cares he's freed. But know, adversity's the child of God. Whom heaven approves of most, must feel h rod. When smooth old ocean, and each storm's asleep, Then ignorance may plough the watery deep; But when the demons of the tempest rave, Skill must conduct the vessel through the wave. Sidney, what good man envies not thy blow? Who would not wish Anytus for a foe P Intrepid virtue triumphs over fate : The good can never be unfortunate. And be this maxim graven in thy mind; The height of virtue is, to serve mankind.

But when old age has silver'd o'er thy head, When memory fails and all thy vigour's fled, Then may'st thou seek the stillness of retreat, Then hear aloof the human tempest beat; Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave, Allay the pangs of age, and smooth thy grave.

* One of the accusers of Socrates.

FINIS.

GRAINGER

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