Thus Conscience pleads her cause within the breast, At such a sight to catch the poet's filame, Though long rebellid against, not yet suppress'd, | And with a rapture like his own exclain, And calls a creature form'd for God alone,

“ These are thy glorious works, thou source of For Heaven's high purposes, and not his own, How dimly seen, how faintly understood! Calls him away from sellish ends and aims,

Thine, and upheld by thy paternal care, From what debilitates, and what inflames,

This universal frame, thus wondrous fair; From cities humming with a restless crowd, Thy pow'r divine, and bounty beyond thought, Sordid as active, ignorant as loud,

Ador'd and prais d in all that thou bast wroeg Whose highest praise is that they live in vain, Absorb'd in that immensity I see, The dupes of pleasure, or the slaves of gain, I shrink abas'd, and yet aspire to thee; Where works of man are cluster'd close around, Instruct me, guide me to that hearinly day, And works of God are hardly to be found, Thy words, more clearly than thy works, desday, To regions where, in spite of sin and woe,

That, while thy truths my grosser thoughts retine Traces of Eden are still seen below,

I may resemble thee, and call thee mine." Where mountain, river, forest, field, and grove, O blest proficiency! surpassing all, Remind him of his Maker's pow'r and love. That men erroneously iheir glory call, "Tis well if, look'd for at so late a day,

The recompense that arts or arms can yiell, In the last scene of such a senseless play,

The bar, the senate, or the tented field, True wisdom will attend his feeble call,

Compar'd with this sublimest life below, And grace his action ere the curtain fall.

Ye kings and rulers, what have courts to show! Souls, that have long despis'd their heav'nly birth, Thus studied, usd and consecrated thus. Their wishes all impregnated with Earth,

On Earth what is, seems form'd indeed for me For threescore years employ'd with ceaseless care Not as the plaything of a froward child, In catching smoke and feeding upon air,

Freiful unless diverted and beguild, Conversant only with the ways of man,

Much less to feed and fan the fatal fires Rarely redeem the short remaining ten.

Of pride, ambition, or impure desires, Invet'rate habits choke th' unfruitful heart, But as a scale, by which the soul ascends Their fibres penetrate its tend’rest part,

From mighty means to more important ends, And, draining its nutritious pow'rs to feed

Securely, though by steps but rarely trod, Their noxious growth, starve ev'ry better seed. Mounts from inferior beings up to God, Happy, if full of days—but happier far,

And sees, by no fallacious light or dim, If, ere we yet discern life's ev'ning-star,

Earth made for man, and man himself for bin Sick of the service of a world, that feeds

Not that I mean t' approve, or would enfor Its patient drudges with dry chaff and weeds, A superstitious and monastic course: We can escape from Custom's idiot sway,

Truth is not local, God alike pervades To serve the Sov'reign we were born l' obey. And fills the world of traffic and the shades. Then sweet to muse upon his skill display'd And may be fear'd amidst the busiest scenes (Infinite skill) in all that he has made!

Or scorn'd where business never intervenes. To trace in Nature's most minute design

But 'tis not easy, with a mind like ours, The signature and stamp of power divine,

Conscious of weakness in its poblest pow's Contrivance intricate, express'd with ease,

And in a world, where, other ills apart, Where unassisted sight no beauty sees,

The roving eye misleads the careless heart, The shapely limb and lubricated joint,

To limit thought, by nature prone to stray Within the small dimensions of a point,

Wherever freakish fancy points the way: Muscle and nerve miraculously spun,

To bid the pleadings of Self-love be still, His mighty work, who speaks and it is done, | Resign our own, and seek our Maker's will: Th'invisible in things scarce seen reveal'd,

To spread the page of Scripture, and compete To whom an atom is an ample field;

Our conduct with the laws engraven there i To wonder at a thousand insect forms,

To measure all that passes in the breast, These hatch'd and those resuscitated worms, | Faithfully, fairly, by that sacred test; New life ordain'd and brighter scenes to share, | To dive into the secret deeps within, Once prone on earth, now buoyant upon air, To spare no passion and no fav'rite sin, Whose shape would make them, had they bulk and size, And search the themes, important above all More hideous foes than fancy can devise;

Ourselves, and our recov'ry from our tall. With helmet-heads, and dragon-scales adorn'd, But leisure, silence, and a mind releas'd The mighty myriads, now securely scorn'd, From anxious thoughts how wealth may be increas Would mock the majesty of man's high birth, How 10 secure in some propitious hour, Despise his bulwarks, and unpeople earth : The point of int’rest, or the post of pow'r, Then with a glance of fancy to survey,

A soul serene, and equally retir'd Far as the faculty can stretch away,

From objects too much dreaded or desir'd. Ten thousand rivers pour'd at his command Safe from the clamors of perverse dispute, From urns, that never fail, through ev'ry land; At least are friendly to the great pursuit. These like a deluge with impetuous force,

Op'ning the map of God's extensive plan. Those winding modestly a silent course;

We find a little isle this life of man; The cloud-surmounting Alps, the fruitful vales; | Eternity's unknown expanse appears Seas, on which ev'ry nation spreads her sails; Circling around and limiting his years. The Sun, a world whence other worlds drink light, The busy race examine and explore The crescent Moon, the diadem of night;

Each creek and cavern of the dang rous short, Stars countless, each in his appointed place, With care collect what in their eyes excels Fast anchor'd in the deep abyss of space

Some shining pebbles, and some weeds and be

Both fail beneath a fever's secret sway,

Ye groves, (the statesman at his desk erciais And like a summer-brook are past away.

Sick of a thousand disappointed aims.) This is a sight for Pity to peruse,

My patrimonial treasure and my pride, Till she resemble faintly what she views,

Beneath your shades your grey possessor hide, Till Sympathy contract a kindred pain,

Receive me languishing for that repose, Pierc'd with the woes that she laments in vain. The servant of the public never knows This, of all maladies that man infest,

Ye saw me once (ah those regreited days, Claims most compassion and receives the least : When boyish innocence was all my praise Job felt it, when he groan'd beneath the rod

I lour after bour delightfully allot And the barb'd arrows of a frowning God;

To studies then familiar, since forgot, And such emollients as his friends could spare, And cultivate a taste for ancient song, Friends such as his for modern Jobs prepare. Catching its ardor as I mus'd along; Blest, rather curst, with hearts that never feel, Nor seldom, as propitious lear'n might send. Kept snug in caskets of close-hammer'd steel, What once I valued, and could boast, a inend With mouths made only to grin wide and eat, Were witnesses how cordially I press'd And minds, that deem derided pain a treat,

His undissembling virtue to my breast; With limbs of British oak, and nerves of wire, Receive me now, not uncorrupt as then, And wit that puppet-prompters might inspire, Nor guiltless of corrupting other men, Their sov’reign nostrum is a clumsy joke,

But vers'd in arts, ihat, while they seem to so Or pangs enforc'd with God's severest stroke. A falling empire, hasten its decay. But with a soul, that ever felt the sting

To the fair haven of my native home, Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing:

The wreck of what I was, fatigued I come; Not to molest, or irritate, or raise

For once I can approve the patriot's voice, A laugh at his expense, is slender praise; . And make the course he recommends my chace He, that has not usurp'd the name of man,

We meet at last in one sincere desire, Does all, and deens too little all, he can,

His wish and mine both prompi me to retire. T'assuage the throbbings of a fester'd part,

"Tis done-he steps into the welcome chaise, And stanch the bleedings of a broken heart. Lolls at his ease behind four handsome bay, "Tis not, as heads that never ache suppose,

That whirl away from business and debate Forg’ry of fancy, and a dream of woes ;

The disencumber'd Atlas of the state. Man is a harp, whose chords elude the sight, Ask not the boy, who, when the breeze of moen Each yielding harmony dispos’d aright;

First shakes the glitt'ring drops from ev'ry hart The screws revers'd, (a task which, if he please, Unfolds his flock, then under bank or bush God in a moment executes with ease,)

Sits linking cherry-stones, or platting rush, Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose, | How fair is Freedom ?-he was always free Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use. To carve his rustic name upon a tree, Then neither heathy.wilds, nor scenes as fair To snare the mole, or with ill-fashion d book As ever recompens'd the peasant's care,

To draw th' incautious minnow from the broad. Nor soft declivities with tufted hills,

Are life's prime pleasures in his simple view, Nor view of waters turning busy mills,

His flock the chief concern he ever knew; Parks in which Art preceptress Nature weds, She shines but little in his heedless eyes, Nor gardens interspers'd with flow'ry beds,

The good we never miss we rarely prize : Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming groves, But ask the noble drudge in state affair, And waft it to the mourner as he roves,

Escap'd from office and its constant cares, Can call up life into his faded eye,

What charms he sees in Freedom's smile espresso That passes all he sees unheeded by ;

In Freedom lost so long, now repossess'd; No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, The tongue, whose strains were cogent as an No cure for such, till God who makes them heals.

mands, And thou, sad suff'rer under nameless ill,

Rever'd at home, and felt in foreign lands, That yields not to the touch of human skill, Shall own itself a stamm'rer in that cause, Improve the kind occasion, understand

Or plead its silence as its best applause. A Father's frown, and kiss his chast ning hand. He knows indeed that whether dressid or rade. To thee the day-spring, and the blaze of noon, Wild without art, or artfully subdued, The purple ev'ning, and resplendent Moon,

Nature in ev'ry form inspires delight, The stars, that, sprinkled o'er the vault of night, But never mark'd her with so just a sight Seem drops descending in a show'r of light, Her hedge-row shrubs, a variegated store, Shine not, or undesir'd and hated shine,

With woodbine and wild roses mantled o'er. Seen through the medium of a cloud like thine: Green balks and furrow'd lands, the sireann Da Yet seek him, in his favor life is found,

spreads All bliss beside a shadow or a sound :

Its cooling vapor o'er the dewy meads, Then Heav'n, eclips'd so long, and this dull Earth, (Downs, that almost escape th' inquiring eje. Shall seem to start into a second birth;

!That melt and fade into the distant sky, Nature, assuming a more lovely face,

| Beauties he lately slighted as he pass'd, Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace, Seem all created since he traveld last. Shall be despis d and overlook'd no more,

Master of all th' enjoyments he design d. Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before,

No rough annoyance rankling in his mind, Impart to things inanimate a voice,

What early philosophic hours be keeps, And bid her mountains and her hills rejoice;

Illow

his meals, how sound he sleeps! The sound shall run along the winding vales, No sounder he, that on the mainmast-head, And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails.

While morning kindles with a windy red,

de pe Begins a long look-out for distant land,

And ignorance of better things makes man, 1 Nor quits till ev'ning-watch his giddy stand, Who cannot much, rejoice in what he can;

gemeente Then swift descending with a seaman's haste, And he, that deems his leisure well bestow'd * Easy Slips to his hammock, and forgets the blast. In contemplation of a turnpike road, me arm He chooses company, but not the squire's,

Is occupied as well, employs his hours 3) Whose wit is rudeness, whose good-breeding tires; As wisely, and as much improves his pow'rs, the toy Nor yet the parson's, who would gladly come, As he, that slumbers in pavilions grac'd Limar Obsequious when abroad, though 'proud at home; With all the charms of an accomplish'd taste.

Nor can he much affect the neighb'ring peer, Yet hence, alas ! insolvencies; and hence
DHE TE Whose toe of emulation treads too near;

Th' unpitied victim of ill-judg'd expense,
But wisely seeks a more convenient friend,

From all his wearisome engagements freed,
With whom, dismissing forms, he may unbend; Shakes hands with business, and retires indeed.
A man, whom marks of condescending grace

Your prudent grand-mammas, ye modern belles,
Teach, while they flatter him, his proper place; Content with Bristol, Bath, and Tunbridge-Wells,
Who comes when call d, and at a word withdraws, When health required it, would consent to roam,
Speaks with reserve, and listens with applause; Else more attach'd to pleasures found at home.
Some plain mechanic, who, without pretence But now alike, gay widow, virgin, wife,
To birth or wit, nor gives nor takes offence; Ingenious to diversify dull life,
On whom he rests well-pleas'd his weary pow'rs, In coaches, chaises, caravans, and hoys,
And talks and laughs away his vacant hours. Fly to the coast for daily, nightly joys,
The tide of life, swift always in its course,

And all, impatient of dry land, agree
May run in ciues with a brisker force,

With one consent to rush into the sea.-
But nowhere with a current so serene,

Ocean exhibits, fathomless and broad,
Or half so clear, as in the rural scene.

Much of the pow'r and majesty of God.
Yet how fallacious is all earthly bliss,

He swathes about the swelling of the deep,
What obvious truths the wisest heads may miss! That shines and rests, as infants smile and sleep;
Some pleasures live a month, and some a year,

Vast as it is, it answers as it flows
But short the date of all we gather here;

The breathing of the lightest air that blows;
No happiness is felt except the true,

Curling and whit’ning over all the waste, je 92.3 That does not charm the more for being new. The rising waves obey th' increasing blast, el dia: "This observation, as it chanc'd, not made,

Abrupt and horrid as the tempest roars, FOREX Or, if the thought occurr'd, not duly weigh'd, Thunder and flash upon the stedfast shores, He sighs—for after all by slow degrees

Till he, that rides the whirlwind, checks the rein,
TE The spot he lov'd has lost the pow'r to please;. Then all the world of waters sleeps again.-
At To cross his ambling pony day by day,

Nereids or Dryads, as the fashion leads,
L26
Seems at the best but drearning life away;

Now in the floods, now panting in the meads,
The prospect, such as might enchant despair, Vot’ries of Pleasure still, where'er she dwells,
He views it not, or sees no beauty there;

Near barren rocks, in palaces, or cells,
With aching heart, and discontented looks,

O grant a poet leave to recommend
Returns at noon to billiards or to books,

(A poet fond of Nature, and your friend)
But feels, while grasping at his faded joys,

Her slighted works to your admiring view;
A secret thirst of his renounc'd employs.

Her works must needs excel, who fashion'd you.
He chides the tardiness of ev'ry post,

Would ye, when rambling in your morning ride,
Pants to be told of battles won or lost,

With some unmeaning coxcomb at your side,
Blames his own indolence, observes, though late, Condemn the pratiler for his idle pains,
"Tis criminal to leave a sinking state,

To waste unheard the music of his strains,
Flies to the levée, and, receiv'd with grace,

And, deaf to all th' impertinence of tongue,
Kneels, kisses hands, and shines again in place. That, while it courts, affronts and does you wrong?
Suburban villas, highway-side retreats,

Mark well the finish'd plan without a fault,
That dread the encroachment of our growing streets, The seas globose and huge, ih' o'er-arching vault,
Tight boxes, neatly sash'd, and in a blaze

Earth's millions daily fed, a world employ'd
With all a July sun's collected rays,

In gath'ring plenty yet to be enjoy'd,
Delight the citizen, who, gasping there,

Till gratitude grew vocal in the praise
Breathes clouds of dust, and calls it country air. Of God, beneficent in all his ways;
O sweet retirement, who would balk the thought, Grac'd with such wisdom, how would beauty shine!
That could allord retirement, or could not?

Ye want but that to seem indeed divine.
'Tis such an easy walk, so smooth and straight, | Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid,
The second mile-stone fronts the garden-gate; Force many a shining youth into the shade,
A step if fair, and, if a show'r approach,

Not to redeem his time, but his estate,
You find safe shelter in the next stage-coach. And play the fool, but at a cheaper rate.
There, prison d in a parlor snug and small,

There, hid in loth'd obscurity, remov'd
Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall,

From pleasures left, but never more belov'd,
The man of business and his friends compressid He just endures, and with a sickly spleen
Forget their labors, and yet find no rest;

Sighs o'er the beauties of the charming scene.
But still 'tis rural-trees are to be seen

Nature indeed looks prettily in rhyme;
From ev'ry window, and the fields are green; Streams tinkle sweetly in poetic chime :
Ducks paddle in the pond before the door,

The warblings of the blackbird, clear and strong,
And what could a remoter scene show more? Are musical enough in Thomson's song;
A sense of elegance we rarely find

And Cobham's groves, and Windsor's green retreats,
The portion of a mean or vulgar mind,

When Pope describes them, have a thousand sweets

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