Saying, we're twins in death, proud sun,
Thy face is cold, thy race is run,
Mere Mercy bids thee go.
For thou, ten thousand thousand years,
Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow.
5. What, though beneath thee, man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;
And arts that made wood, fire, and earth,
The vassals of his will;
Yet mourn I not thy parted sway,
Thou dim, discrowned king of day;
For all those trophied arts
And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,
Heal'd not a passion or a pang
Entail'd on human hearts.
6. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men;
Nor with thy rising beams recall
Life's tragedy again.
Its motley pageants bring not back,
Nor waken flesh, upon the rack
Of pain, anew to writhe :
Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr'd,
Or mown in battle by the sword,
Like grass beneath the scythe.
7 E'en I am weary, in yon skies,
To watch thy fading fire;
Test of all sumless agonies,
Behold not me expire.
My lips that speak thy dirge of death;
Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath,
To see thou shalt not boast.
The eclipse of nature spreads my pall,
The majesty of darkness shall
Receive my parting ghost.
This spirit shall return to him,
That gave its heavenly spark;
Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim
When thou thyself art dark.
No; it shall live again, and shine
In bliss unknown to beams of thine.
By Him recall'd to breath,
Who captive led captivity;
Who robb'd the grave of victory,
And pluck'd the sting of death.
9. Go sun, while mercy holds me up
On nature's awful waste,
To drink this last, this bitter cup
Of grief that man shall taste;
Go, tell the night that hides thy face,
Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race,
On earth's sepulchral clod,
The dark'ning universe defy
To quench his immortality,
Or shake his trust in God.
LESSON CLXII.
Picture of a Good Man.-Young.
1. SOME angel guide my pencil, while I draw,
What nothing else than angel can exceed,
A man on earth devoted to the skies;
Like ships at sea, while in, above the world.
With aspect mild, and elevated eye,
Behold him seated on a mount serene,
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm;
All the black cares, and tumults of this life,
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
2. Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slave. A mingled mob! a wand'ring herd! he sees, Bewilder'd in the vale; in all unlike;
His full reverse in all! What higher praise?
What stronger demonstration of the right?
The present all their care; the future his;
When public welfare calls, or private want,
They give to fame; his bounty he conceals.
Their virtues varnish nature; his exalt.
Mankind's esteem they court; and he his own.
3. Theirs the wild chase of false felicities.
His, the composed possession of the true.
Alike throughout is his consistent piece,
All of one color, and an even thread;
While party-color'd shreds of happiness,
With hideous gaps between, patch up for them
A madman's robe; each puff of fortune blows
Their tatters by, and shows their nakedness.
4. He sees with other eyes than theirs; where they Behold a sun, he spies a Deity;
What makes them only smile, makes him adore.
Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees;
An empire, in his balance, weighs a grain.
They things terrestrial worship as divine:
His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust,
That dims his sight and shortens his survey,
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound.
5. Titles and honors (if they prove his fate)
He lays aside to find his dignity;
No dignity they find in aught besides.
They triumph in externals, (which conceal
Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipse:
Himself too much he prizes to be proud;
And nothing thinks so great in man, as man.
Too dear he holds his int'rest, to neglect
Another's welfare, or his right invade;
Their int'rest, like a lion, lives on prey.
6. They kindle at the shadow of a wrong; Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on heav'n, Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe.
Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his peace. A cover'd heart their character defends;
A cover'd heart denies him half his praise.
7. With nakedness his innocence agrees!
While their broad foliage testifies their fall!
Their no-joys end, where his full feast begins:
His joys create, their's murder, future bliss.
To triumph in existence, his alone;
And his alone triumphantly to think
His true existence is not yet begun.
His glorious course was, yesterday, complete:
Death, then, was welcome; yet life still is sweet.
Hymn on a Review of the Seasons.--THOMSON. 1. THESE, as they change, Almighty Father! these, Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the soft'ning air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles,
And ev'ry sense, and ev'ry heart is joy.
2. Then comes Thy glory in the summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun
Shoots full perfection thro' the swelling year;
And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks;
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whisp'ring gales.
3. Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that live.
In winter, awful Thou! with clouds and storms
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd,
Majestic darkness! On the whirlwind's wing
Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore;
And humblest nature with Thy northern blast.
4. Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd;
Shade unperceived, so softening into shade,
And all so forming an harmonious whole,
That as they still succeed, they ravish still.
5. But wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze, Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand, That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres; Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring; Flings from the sun direct the flaming day; Feeds ev'ry creature; hurls the tempest forth; And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, With transport touches all the springs of life. 6. Nature, attend! join every living soul, Beneath the spacious temple of the sky: In adoration join! and, ardent, raise One general song
Ye, chief,* for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn!
7. For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Russets the plain; inspiring autumn gleams;
Or winter rises in the black'ning east;
Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!
8. 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.
9. When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come, And wing my mystic 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, muse his praise.
Questions and Answers.-MONTGOMERY.
Q. FLOWERS,-wherefore do ye bloom?
-We strew thy pathway to the tomb.
Q. Stars, wherefore do ye rise?
-To light thy spirit to the skies.
Q. Fair Moon-why dost thou wane?
A. That I may wax again.
Q. O Sun,-what makes thy beams so bright?
A. The Word that said," Let there be light."
Q. Planets,-what guides you in your course?
A. Unseen, unfelt, unfailing force.
Q. Nature, whence sprang thy_glorious frame?
A. -My Maker call'd me, and I came.
Q. O Light,-thy. subtile essence who may know? A. —Ask not; for all things but myself I show.
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