Thee to deplore were grief mispent indeed; It were to weep that goodness has its meed, That there is bliss prepared in yonder sky, And glory for the virtuous, when they die. What pleasure can the miser's fondled hoard, Or spendthrift's prodigal excess afford, Sweet as the privilege of healing woe By virtue suffer'd combating below?
That privilege was thine; Heaven gave thee means To illumine with delight the saddest scenes, Till thy appearance chased the gloom, forlorn As midnight, and despairing of a morn. Thou hadst an industry in doing good, Restless as his who toils and sweats for food; Avarice, in thee, was the desire of wealth By rust unperishable or by stealth; And if the genuine worth of gold depend On application to its noblest end,
Thine had a value in the scales of Heaven, Surpassing all that mine or mint had given. And, though God made thee of a nature prone To distribution boundless of thy own, And still by motives of religious force Impell'd thee more to that heroic course, Yet was thy liberality discreet,
Nice in its choice, and of a temper'd heat, And though in act unwearied, secret still, As in some solitude the summer rill Refreshes, where it winds, the faded green, And cheers the drooping flowers, unheard, unseen. Such was thy charity; no sudden start, After long sleep, of passion in the heart, But steadfast principle, and, in its kind, Of close relation to the eternal mind, Traced easily to its true source above,
To Him, whose works bespeak his nature, Love. Thy bounties all were Christian, and I make This record of thee for the Gospel's sake; That the incredulous themselves may see Its use and power exemplified in thee.
TO WARREN HASTINGS, ESQ.
BY AN OLD SCHOOLFELLOW OF HIS AT WESTMINSTER.
HASTINGS! I knew thee young, and of a mind While young humane, conversable, and kind; Nor can I well believe thee, gentle then, Now grown a villain, and the worst of men. But rather some suspect, who have oppress'd And worried thee, as not themselves the best.
A BRIEF FRAGMENT OF AN EXTENSIVE PROJECTED POEM.
"I COULD be well content, allow'd the use Of past experience, and the wisdom glean'd From worn-out follies, now acknowledged such, To recommence life's trial, in the hope
Of fewer errors, on a second proof!"
Thus while grey evening lull'd the wind, and call'd Fresh odours from the shrubbery at my side,
Taking my lonely winding walk, I mused,
And held accustom'd conference with my heart;
When from within it thus a voice replied:
"Could'st thou in truth? and art thou taught at length
This wisdom, and but this, from all the past? Is not the pardon of thy long arrear,
Time wasted, violated laws, abuse
Of talents, judgements, mercies, better far Than opportunity vouchsafed to err With less excuse, and haply, worse effect?"
I heard, and acquiesced: then to and fro Oft pacing, as the mariner his deck, My gravelly bounds, from self to human kind I pass'd, and next consider'd, what is man? Knows he his origin? can he ascend
By reminiscence to his earliest date? Slept he in Adam? and in those from him Through numerous generations, till he found
At length his destined moment to be born? Or was he not, till fashion'd in the womb?
Deep mysteries both! which schoolmen must have toil'd To unriddle, and have left them mysteries still.
It is an evil incident to man,
And of the worst, that unexplored he leaves Truths useful and attainable with ease,
To search forbidden deeps, where mystery lies Not to be solved, and useless, if it might. Mysteries are food for angels; they digest With ease, and find them nutriment; but man, While yet he dwells below, must stoop to glean His manna from the ground, or starve and die.
Two nymphs, both nearly of an age, Of numerous charms possess'd, A warm dispute once chanced to wage, Whose temper was the best
The worth of each had been complete, Had both alike been mild;
But one, although her smile was sweet, Frown'd oftener than she smiled.
And in her humour, when she frown'd, Would raise her voice and roar, And shake with fury to the ground The garland that she wore.
The other was of gentler cast, From all such frenzy clear,
Her frowns were seldom known to last, And never proved severe.
To poets of renown in song
The nymphs referr'd the cause,
Who, strange to tell, all judged it wrong, And gave misplaced applause.
They gentle call'd, and kind and soft, The flippant and the scold,
And though she changed her mood so oft, That failing left untold.
No judges, sure, were e'er so mad,
Or so resolved to err,
In short, the charms her sister had They lavish'd all on her.
Then thus the God whom fondly they Their great Inspirer call,
Was heard, one genial summer's day, To reprimand them all.
"Since thus ye have combined," he said, "My favourite nymph to slight, Adorning May, that peevish maid, With June's undoubted right,
"The Minx shall, for your folly's sake, Still prove herself a shrew,
Shall make your scribbling fingers ache, And pinch your noses blue.'
A HERMIT, (or if 'chance you hold That title now too trite and old), A man, once young, who lived retired As hermit could have well desired, His hours of study closed at last, And finish'd his concise repast, Stoppled his cruise, replaced his book Within its customary nook,
And, staff in hand, set forth to share The sober cordial of sweet air, Like Isaac, with a mind applied To serious thought at eveningtide.
Autumnal rains had made it chill,
And from the trees, that fringed his hill, Shades slanting at the close of day Chill'd more his else delightful way; Distant a little mile he spied
A western bank's still sunny side, And right toward the favour'd place Proceeding with his nimblest pace, In hope to bask a little yet,
Just reach'd it when the sun was set. Your hermit, young and jovial sirs! Learns something from whate'er occurs ;- And hence, he said, my mind computes The real worth of man's pursuits.
His object chosen, wealth or fame, Or other sublunary game, Imagination to his view
Presents it deck'd with every hue, That can seduce him not to spare His powers of best exertion there, But youth, health, vigour to expend On so desirable an end.
Ere long approach life's evening shades, The glow that fancy gave it fades; And, earn'd too late, it wants the grace That first engaged him in the chase. True, answer'd an angelic guide, Attendant at the senior's side,- But whether all the time it cost, То urge the fruitless chase be lost, Must be decided by the worth
Of that which call'd his ardour forth. Trifles pursued, whate'er the event, Must cause him shame or discontent; A vicious object still is worse, Successful there he wins a curse; But he, whom e'en in life's last stage Endeavours laudable engage,
Is paid at least in peace of mind And sense of having well design'd;
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