Op'st the dread scenes that Heav'n suspensive ey'd, A world created, or a world destroy'd ;
Recall'st the joys of Eden's happier prime,
Whilst life was yet unconscious of a crime,
Whilst Virtue's self could Passion's glow approve,
And Beauty slumber'd in the arms of Love;
Till, dread reverse! on Man's devoted race
Th' insidious Serpent work'd the dire disgrace.
Then first, whilst Nature shudder'd with affright,
Of Sin and Death was held th' incestuous rite,
Then first o'er vanquish'd man began their reign,
The fiends of Woe, the family of Pain:
Disease the poison'd cup of anguish fills,
And opes the lazar-house of human ills.
See Frenzy rushes from his burning bed,
See pining Atrophy declines his head,
See mute Despair, that broods on woes unknown,
And Melancholy gaze herself to stone!
Then, pouring forth from Hell's detested bound, Revenge, and Fraud, and Murder, stalk around; "Till op'ning skies declare th' avenging God, And Mercy sleeps, whilst Justice waves the rod. Yet, whilst the bursting deluge from the earth Sweeps the rebellious brood of giant birth, One proud survivor rolls his vengeful eyes, And with last look the Living God defies.
But now the Waves their silent station keep, And Vengeance slumbers o'er the mighty deep; Again rejoicing o'er the firm-fix'd land
The favour'd Patriarch leads his household band;
With sacred incense bids his altars blaze,
And pours to God the living song of praise.
Thus as th' immortal bard his flight explores, On kindred wing the daring artist soars, Undazzled shares with him heav'n's brightest glow, Or penetrates the boundless depths below ; Or on the sloping sun-beam joys to ride,
Or sails amidst the uncreated void;
Imbibes a portion of his sacred flame,
Reflects his genius, and partakes his fame.
WHEN A FREE BENEFIT WAS GIVEN TO THE CHILDREN OF THE LATE MR. J. PALMER, COMEDIAN; WHO DIED SUDDENLY A
FEW DAYS BEFORE, ON THAT STAGE, WHILE PERFORMING THE PART OF THE STRANGER."
airy Sprites, who-oft as Fancy calls,
Sport 'midst the precincts of these haunted walls!
Light forms, that float in Mirth's tumultuous throng,
And frolic dance, and revelry, and song;
Fold your gay wings, repress your wonted fire,
And from your fav'rite seats awhile retire!
And thou, whose pow'rs sublimer thoughts impart,
Queen of the springs that move the human heart
With change alternate; at whose magic call
The swelling tides of passion rise or fall-
Thou, too, withdraw; for 'midst thy lov'd abode,
With step more stern, a mightier pow'r has trode:
Here, on this spot, to every eye confest,
Enrob'd with terrors stood the kingly guest;
Here, on this spot, Death wav'd th' unerring dart,
And struck-his noblest prize-an honest heart!
What wond'rous links the human feelings bind!
How strong the secret sympathies of mind!
As Fancy's pictur'd forms around us move,
We hope, or fear, rejoice, detest, or love;
Nor heaves the sigh for selfish woes alone,
Congenial sorrows mingle with our own;
Hence as the Poet's raptur'd eye-balls roll,
"The fond delirium seizes all his soul;
And, whilst his pulse concordant measure keeps,
He smiles in transport, or in anguish weeps.
But, ah lamented shade! not thine to know
The anguish only of imagin'd woe!
Destin'd o'er life's substantial ills to mourn,
And fond parental ties untimely torn!
Then, whilst thy bosom, lab'ring with its grief,
From fabled sorrows sought a short relief,
The fancied woes, too true to Nature's tone,
Burst the slight barrier, and became thy own;
In mingled tides the swelling passions ran,
Absorb'd the Actor, and o'erwhelm'd the Man!
Martyr of Sympathy, more sadly true,
Than ever Fancy feign'd, or Poet drew!
Say, why by Heav'n's acknowledg'd hand imprest, Such keen sensations actuate all the breast?
Why throbs the heart for joys that long have fled?
Why lingers Hope around the silent dead?
Why spurns the spirit its encumb'ring clay,
And longs to soar to happier realms away?
Does Heav'n, unjust, the fond desire instill
To add to mortal woes another ill?
Is there thro' all the intellectual frame,
No kindred mind that prompts the nightly dream,
Or, in lone musings of remembrance sweet,
Inspires the secret wish-once more to meet?
There is; for not by more determin'd laws
The sympathetic steel the magnet draws,
Than the free'd spirit acts, with strong controul,
On its responsive sympathies of soul;
And tells in characters of truth unfurl'd,
"There is another, and a better world !"*
Yet, whilst we sorrowing tread this earthly ball,
For human woes a human tear will fall,
* In repeating these remarkable words, Mr. Palmer fell; they were the last he was able to pronounce. His domestic sorrows, under the pressure of which he had for some time languished, were believed to have shortened his days. Editor.
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