The Poetic Reader

And not soon spent,tho' in an arduous task; 35 The pow'rs of fancy and strong thought, are theirs ;

Sense of past guilt, & dread of future woe. 310
Far be the ghastly crew! And in their stead,
Let cheerful memory, from her purest cells,
Lead forth a goodly train of virtues fair, Ev'n age itself seems privileg'd in them,
Cherish'd in earliest youth, now paying backWith clear exemption from its own defects.
With tenfold usury, the pious care, 315 A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front, 40
And pouring o'er my wounds, the heav'nly balm The vet'ran shows; and, gracing a grey beard
Of conscious innocence. But chiefly Thou, With youthful smiles, descends toward the
Whom soft eyed Pity once led down from

heav'n,

To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die; 320)
Disdain not Thou to smooth the restless bed
Of sickness and of pain. Forgive the tear,
That feeble Nature drops; calm all her fears;
Wake all her hopes, and animate her faith,
Till my wrapt soul, anticipating heav'n,
Bursts from the thraldom of incumb'ring clay,
And on the wing of ecstasy, upborne,
Springs into liberty and light and life.

(COWPER.)

NO. 92. EXERCISE.

OY ceaseless action, all, that is, subsists.

325

grave,

Sprightly and old, almost without decay.
NO. 93. RURAL CHARMS.

Who, self-imprison'd in their proud saloons
Renounce the odors of the open field,
For the unscented fictions of the loom ;
Who, satisfied with only pencil'd scenes,
Prefer to the performance of a God,
Th' inferior wonders of an artist's hand!
Lovely indeed the mimic works of art;
But nature's works, far lovlier. I admire-
None more admires-the painter's magic skill,

BConstant rotation of th'un weari'd wheel, Who shows me that which I shall never see, 15

That nature rides upon, maintains her health,
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads

An instant's pause; and lives, but while she

moves.

Its own revolvency upholds the world.
Winds from all quarters, agitate the air,
And fit the limpid element for use;
Else noxious. Oceans, rivers, lakes & streams,
All feel the fresh'ning impulse, and are cleans'd
By restless undulation. Ev'n the oak 10
Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm.
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel
Th'impression of the blast with proud disdain,
Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm
15
He held the thunder; but the monarch owes
His firm stability to what he scorns-
More fix'd below, the more disturb'd above.
The law, by which all creatures else are bound,
Binds man, the lord of all. Himself derives 20
No mean advantage from a kindred cause;
From strenuous toil, his hours of sweetest ease.
The sedentary stretch their lazy length,
When custom bids; but no refreshment find;
For none they need. The languid eye, the
cheek,
25

Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk,
And wither'd muscle, and the vapid soul,
Reproach their owner with that love of rest,
To which he forfeits ev'n the rest he loves.
Not such th' alert and active. Measure lite
By its true worth, the comforts it affords,
And theirs alone seems worthy of the name.
Good health, and, its associate in most,
Good temper; spirits prompt to undertake,

Conveys a distant country into mine,
And throws Italian light on English walls.
But imitative strokes can do no more

5 Than please the eye-sweet nature,ev'ry sense.
The air salubrious of her lofty hills,
The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales,
And music of her woods-no works of man
May rival these; these all bespeak a pow'r
Peculiar, and exclusively her own.
Beneath the open sky, she spreads the feast; 25
'Tis free to all-'tis ev'ry day renew'd ;
Who scorns it, starves deservedly at home.
He does not scorn it, who, imprison'd long
In some unwholesome dungeon, and a prey
To sallow sickness, which the vapors, dank 30
And clammy, of his dark abode have bred,,
Escapes at last, to liberty and light;
His cheek recovers soon its healthful hue;
His eye relumines its extinguish'd fires;
He walks, he leaps, he runs--is wing'd with joy,
And riots in the sweets of ev'ry breeze.
He does not scorn it, who has long endur'd
A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs.
Nor yet the mariner, his blood inflam'd
With acrid salts, his very heart athirst
To gaze at nature in her green array;
Upon the ship's tall side he stands, possess'd
With visions prompted by intense desire;
Fair fields appear below, such as he left
Far distant, such as he would die, to find- 45
He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more.
The spleen is seldom felt, where Flora reigns;
The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown,
And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort,

And mar the face of beauty, when no cause 50 Resolving all events, with their effects
For such immeasurable woe appears—
These Flora banishes, and gives the fair,
Sweet smiles, and bloom, less transient than
her own.

NO. 94. RETREAT FROM WICKEDNESS
H for a lodge in some vast wilderness,

Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more. My ear is pain'd, My soul is sick, with ev'ry day's report 6 Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is fill'd. There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart; It does not feel for man. The nat`ral bond Of brotherhood is sever'd, as the flax, That falls asunder at the touch of fire. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin, Not color'd like his own! and, having pow'r T'enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause, Dooms and devotes him, as his lawful prey. 15 Lands, intersected by a narrow frith, Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd, Make enemies of nations, who had else, Like kindred drops, been mingled into one. Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys; 20 And, worse than all, and most to be deplor'd, As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his

sweat

With stripes, that mercy, with a bleeding heart,
Weeps, when she sees inflicted on a beast. 25
Then what is man? And what man seeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush,
And hang his head, to think himself a man?
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me, while I sleep,
And tremble, when I wake, for all the wealth,
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn’d.
No; dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation, priz'd above all price,
I would much rather be myself the slave, 35
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.
We have no slaves at home -Then why abroad?
And they themselves, once ferri'd o'er the wave,
That parts us, are emancipate and loos’d.
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their
lungs
40

Receive our air, that moment, they are free;
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation, proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through ev'ry vein 45
Of all your empire; that where Britain's pow'r
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.

NO. 95. PROVIDENCE.
APPY the man, who sees a God employ'd

And manifold results, into the will
And arbitration wise of the Supreme.
Did not his eye rule all things, and intend
The least of our concerns (since from the least,
Find place in his dominion, or dispose
The greatest oft originate ;) could chance
One lawless particle to thwart his plan;
Then God might be surpris'd, and unforeseen
Contingence might alarm him, and disturb
The smooth and equal course of his affairs.
This truth, philosophy, though eagle-ey'd
In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks;
And, having found his instrument, forgets,
Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still,
Denies the pow'r that wields it. God pro-
claims

What prodigies can power divine perform, 45 More grand, than it produces year by year, And all in sight of inattentive man? Familiar with the effect, we slight the cause, And in the constancy of nature's course, The regular return of genial months, And renovation of a faded world, See nought to wonder at. Should God again, As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race Of the undeviating and punctual sun, How would the world admire! but speaks it less An agency divine, to make him know

ill, that sinks, and to rise,

Who sleeps not, is not weary; in whose sight, Slow circling ages are as transient days; 120 60 Whose work is without labor; whose designs No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts; And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. Him blind antiquity profan'd, not served, With self-taught rites, and under various names, 125

Age after age, than to arrest his course?
All we behold is miracle; but seen
So duly, all is miracle in vain.
Where now the vital energy that mov'd,
While summer was, the pure and subtle lymph
Through th' imperceptible, meandering veins
Of leaf and flower? It sleeps; and th' icy touch
Of unprolific winter has impress'd
65
A cold stagnation on the intestine tide.
But let the months go round, a few short
months,

Female and male, Pomona, Pales, Pan, And Flora, and Virtumnus; peopling earth With tutelary goddesses and gods, [would, That were not; and commending, as they To each, some province, garden, field, or grove. 70 But all are under one. One spirit-His, 131 Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows,

And all shall be restored. These naked shoots,
Barren as lances, among which the wind
Makes wintry music, sighing, as it goes,
Shall put their graceful foilage on again,
And more aspiring, and with ampler spread,
Shall boast new charms, and more than they

have lost.

From dearth to plenty, and from death to life,
Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man 75
In heavenly truth; evincing, as she makes
The grand transition, that there lives & works
A soul in all things, and that soul is God,
The beauties of the wilderness are his,
That makes so gay the solitary place,
Where no eye sees them; and the fairer forms,
That cultivation glories in, are his.
He sets the bright procession on its way,
And marshals all the order of the year;
He marks the bounds, which winter may not
85

pass,

And blunts his pointed fury; in its case,
Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ,
Uninjur'd, with inimitable art;

And, ere one flow'ry season fades and dies,
Designs the blooming wonders of the next. 90
Some say, that in the origin of things,
When all creation started into birth,
The infant elements received a law,
From which, they swerve not since. That un-
der force

Of that controlling ordinance, they move, 95
And need not his immediate hand, who first
Prescrib'd their course, to regulate it now.
Thus dream they, and contrive to save a God
The incumbrance of his own concerns, & spare
The great Artificer of all that moves, 100
The stress of a continual act, the pain
of unremitted vigilance and care,
As too laborious and severe a task.
But how should matter occupy a charge,
Dull as it is, and satisfy a law,
So vast in its demands, unless impell'd
To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force,
And under pressure of some conscious cause?
The Lord of all, himself through all diffus'd,
Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. 110
Nature is but the name for an effect,
Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire,
By which the mighty process is maintain'd;

105

Rules universal nature. Not a flower, But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain,

135

Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires
Their blamy odors, and imparts their hues,
And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes,
In grains, as countless as the sea-side sands,
The forms, with which he sprinkles all the
earth.

Happy, who walks with him! whom what he finds

Of flavor or of scent in fruit or flower,
Or what he views of beautiful or grand
In nature, from the broad majestic oak
To the green blade, that twinkles in the sun,
Prompts with remembrance of a present God.
His presence, who made all so fair, perceived,
Makes all still fairer. As with him, no scene
Is dreary, so with him all seasons please.

NO. 96. ENGLAND.

NGLAND, with all thy faults, I love thee still

My country! and, while yet a nook is left, Where English minds and manners may be found,

Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime

Be fickle, and thy year, most part, deform'd 5
With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost,
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies,
And fields without a flow'r, for warmer France,
With all her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bow'rs, 10
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime
Of patriotic eloquence, to flash down fire
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task.
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart, 16
As any thund'rer there. And I can feel
Thy follies too; and with a just disdain
Frown at effeminates, whose very looks
Reflect dishonor on the land I love.
Time was, when it was praise and boast enough

Farewel those honors, and farewel with them,
The hope of such hereafter! They have fall'n,
Each in his field of glory; one in arms,
And one in council-Wolfe, upon the lap
Of smiling victory, that moment won; 30
And Chatham, heart-sick of his country's
shame!

NO. 97. THE PULPIT.

ware,

Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card;
Constant at routs, familiar with a round
Of ladyships; a stranger to the poor;
Ambitious of preferment for its gold,
And well prepar'd, by ignorance and sloth,
By infidelity and love o' th' world,
To make God's work a sinecure; a slave
To his own pleasures, and his patron's pride;
From such apostles, O, ye mitred heads, 45
Preserve the church! and lay not careless hands
On skulls, that cannot teach, and will not learn.
Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul,
Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and
49

own

Paul should himself direct me. I would trace
His master strokes, and draw from his design.
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
In doctrine, uncorrupt; in language, plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd

HE pulpit, therefore (and I name it, fill'd
With solemn awe, that bids me well be-
With what intent, I touch that holy thing)-Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
The pulpit (when the sat'rist has at last,
Strutting and vap'ring in an empty school, 5
Spent all his force, and made no proselyte)
I say, the pulpit (in the sober use
Of its legitimate, peculiar pow'rs)
Must stand acknowledg'd, while the world shall
stand,

The most important and effectual guard,
Support and ornament, of virtue's cause.
There, stands the messenger of truth; there,
stands

The legate of the skies!-His theme divine,
His office sacred, his credentials clear.
By him, the violated law speaks out
Its thunders; and by him, in strains, as sweet
As angels use, the gospel whispers peace. 15
He 'stablishes the strong, restores the weak,
Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart,
And, arm'd himself in panoply complete
Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms,
Bright as his own, and trains, by ev'ry rule
Of holy discipline, to glorious war,
The sacramental host of God's elect!

And anxious mainly, that the flock he feeds,
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men.
Behold the picture! Is it like?-Like whom?
The things, that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again; pronounce a text;
Cry-hem; and, reading what they never wrote,
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, 65
And with a well-bred whisper, close the scene!
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all, in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul, I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
What!-will a man play tricks? will he indulge
A silly, fond conceit of his fair form,
And just proportion, fashionable mien,
And pretty face, in presence of his God? 75
Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes,
As with the di'mond on his lily hand,
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes,
When I am hungry for the bread of life?

Are all such teachers?-would to Heav'n, all He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames were!

I venerate the man, whose heart is warm, 25 Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,

Coincident, exhibit lucid proof,

That he is honest in the sacred cause.

To such, I render more than mere respect,
Whose actions say, that they respect them-
selves.

But loose in morals, and in manners, vain,
In conversation, frivolous, in dress,
Extreme, at once rapacious and profuse;
Frequent in park, with lady at his side,
Ambling and prattling scandal, as he goes;
But rare at home, and never at his books,

His holy office, and, instead of truth,
Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock!
Therefore, avaunt all attitude and stare,
And start theatric, practis'd at the glass!
I seek divine simplicity in him,

Who handles things divine; and all besides,
Though learn'd with labor, and though much
admir'd

By curious eyes, and judgments ill inform'd,
To me is odious, as the nasal twang,
Heard at conventicle.

He, that negociates between God and man.
As God's ambassador, the grand concerns
Of judgment and of mercy, should beware
Of lightness in his speech. 'Tis pitiful,

To court a grin, when you should woo a soul;
To break a jest, when pity would inspire
Pathetic exhortation; and t' address
The skittish fancy, with facetious tales,
When sent with God's commission to the heart!
So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip 100
Or merry turn in all he ever wrote,
And I consent, you take it for your text,
Your only one, till sides and benches fail.
No; he was serious in a serious cause,
And understood too well the weighty terms 105
That he had tak'n charge. He would not
stoop,

To conquer those by jocular exploits,
Whom truth and soberness assail'd in vain.

NO. 96. POPULAR APPLAUSE.

OH, popular applause! what heart of man

Or does he sit regardless of his works?
Has man within him an immortal seed?
Or does the tomb take all? If he survive 20
His ashes, where? and in what weal, or woe?
Knots worthy of solution, which alone
A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague,
And all at random, fabulous and dark, [life,
Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of
Defective and unsanction'd, prov'd too weak
To bind the roving appetite, and lead
Blind nature to a God, not yet reveal'd.
Tis revelation satisfies all doubts,
Explains all mysteries, except her own;
And so illuminates the path of life,
That fools discover it, and stray no more.
Now tell me, dignifi'd and sapient Sir,
My man of morals, nurtur'd in the shades
Of Academus-is this false or true?
Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schools?

Is proof against thy sweet, seducing If Christ, then why resort at ev'ry turn

charms?

Praise from the rivel'd lips of toothless, bald
Decrepitude; and in the looks of lean
And craving poverty; and in the bow
Respectful of the smutch'd artificer,
Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb
The bias of the purpose. How much more,
Pour'd forth by beauty, splendid and polite,
In language soft, as adoration breathes?
Ah, spare your idol! think him human still.
Charms he may have; but he has frailties too!
Dote not too much; nor spoil what ye admire!

NO. 97.

HEATHEN PHILOSOPHY.

LL truth is sempiternal source

To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom, short
Of man's occasions, when in him reside
Grace, knowledge, comfort-an unfathom'd
store?
40
How oft, when Paul has serv'd us with a text,

Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preach'd!

NO. 98. PROFUSION.

OW basket up the family of plagues,

sale

Of honor, perjury, corruption, frauds
By forgery, by subterfuge of law,
By tricks and lies as numerous and as keen, 5
As the necessities, their authors feel;
Then cast them, closely bundled, ev'ry brat
At the right door. Profusion is the sire.
Profusion unrestrain'd, with all that's base
In character, has litter'd all the land,
And bred, within the mem'ry of no few,
A priesthood, such as Baal's was of old,
people, such as never till now.

A of light difiom. Busemgypt, Greece and it is a hungry vice, it was tip all,

Rome,

Drew from the stream below. More favor'd, we
Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain head.
To them, it flow'd much mingled and defil'd 5
With hurtful error, prejudice and dreams
Illusive of philosophy, so called,
But falsely. Sages after sages strove
In vain, to filter off a chrystal draught,
Pure from the lees, which often more enhanc'd
The thirst, than slak'd it, and not seldom bred
Intoxication and delirium wild.

In vain, they push'd inquiry to the birth
And spring-time of the world; ask'd, Whence

is man?

Why form'd at all? and wherefore, as he is? 15 Where must he find his Maker? With what rites,

Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and bless?

That gives society its beauty, strength,
Convenience and security and use;
Makes men mere vermin, worthy to be trapp'd
And gibbeted as fast as catchpoll claws
Can seize the slipp'ry prey; unties the knot
Of union, and converts the sacred band,
That holds mankind together, to a scourge.
Profusion, deluging a state with lusts
Of grossest nature and of worst effects,
Prepares it for its ruin; hardens, blinds
And warps the consciences of public men,
Till they can laugh at virtue; mock the fools
That trust them; and, in the end, disclose a face
That would have shock'd credulity herself,
Unmask'd, vouchsafing this their sole excuse--
Since all alike are selfish, why not they?
This does profusion, and th' accursed cause
Of such deep mischief, has itself a cause.

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