Verily,infirm thyself,—be slow to chide a brother's imperfections;For many times the decent veil must hang on faults of nature:And the rude hands, that rend it, offend against the modesty of right,While seeming zeal, and its effort to do good, is only feigned self-praise:Often will the meannesses of life, hidden away in corners,Prove wisdom; and the generous is glad to leave them unregarded in the shade.The follies none are found to praise, let them die unblamed;Thine honest strife will only tend to make some think them wise:And small conventional deceits, let them live uncensured:Or if thou war with pigmies, thou shalt haply help the cranes.Where to be blind was safety, Ovid had been wise for winking:And when a tell-tale might do harm, be sure it is prudent to be dumb;That which is just and fit is often found combating with honesty:In the cause of good, be wise; and in a case indifferent, keep silence.
Verily,infirm thyself,—be slow to chide a brother's imperfections;
For many times the decent veil must hang on faults of nature:
And the rude hands, that rend it, offend against the modesty of right,
While seeming zeal, and its effort to do good, is only feigned self-praise:
Often will the meannesses of life, hidden away in corners,
Prove wisdom; and the generous is glad to leave them unregarded in the shade.
The follies none are found to praise, let them die unblamed;
Thine honest strife will only tend to make some think them wise:
And small conventional deceits, let them live uncensured:
Or if thou war with pigmies, thou shalt haply help the cranes.
Where to be blind was safety, Ovid had been wise for winking:
And when a tell-tale might do harm, be sure it is prudent to be dumb;
That which is just and fit is often found combating with honesty:
In the cause of good, be wise; and in a case indifferent, keep silence.
Lethonesty's unblushing face be shaded by the mantle of humility,So shall it shine a lamp of love, and not the torch of strife:Otherwise the lantern of Diogenes, presumptuously thrust before the face,If it never find an honest man, shall often make an angered.Let honesty be companied by charity of heart, lest it walk unwelcome;Or the mouthing censor of others and himself, soon shall sink to scorn.Let honesty be added unto innocence of life: then a man may only be its martyr;But if openness of speech be found with secresy of guilt, the martyr will be seen a malefactor.
Lethonesty's unblushing face be shaded by the mantle of humility,
So shall it shine a lamp of love, and not the torch of strife:
Otherwise the lantern of Diogenes, presumptuously thrust before the face,
If it never find an honest man, shall often make an angered.
Let honesty be companied by charity of heart, lest it walk unwelcome;
Or the mouthing censor of others and himself, soon shall sink to scorn.
Let honesty be added unto innocence of life: then a man may only be its martyr;
But if openness of speech be found with secresy of guilt, the martyr will be seen a malefactor.
Thereis a cunning scheme, to put on surface bluntness,And cover still deep water, with the clamorous ripples of a shallow.For a man, to gain his selfish ends, will make a stalking-horse of honesty;And hide his poaching limbs behind, that he may cheat the quicker.Such an one is loud and ostentatious, full of oaths for argument,Boastful of honour and sincerity, and not to be put down by facts:He is obstinate, and sheweth it for firmness; he is rude, displaying it for truth;And glorieth in doggedness of temper, as if it were uncompromising justice.Be aware of such a man; his brawling covereth designs;This specious show of honesty cometh as the herald of a thief:His feint is made with awkward clashing on the buckler's boss,But meanwhile doth his secret skill ensure its fatal aim.This is the hypocrite of honesty; ye may know him by an overacted part;Taking pains to turn and twist, where other men walk straight;Or walking straight, he will not step aside to let another pass,But roughly pusheth on, provoking opposition on the way;He is full of disquietude for calmness, full of intriguing for simplicity,Valorous with those who cannot fight, and humble to the brave:Where brotherly advice were good, this man rudely blameth,And on some small occasion, flattereth with coarse praise.The craven in a lion's skin hath conquered by his character for courage;Sheep's clothing helped the wolf, till he slew by his character for kindness.
Thereis a cunning scheme, to put on surface bluntness,
And cover still deep water, with the clamorous ripples of a shallow.
For a man, to gain his selfish ends, will make a stalking-horse of honesty;
And hide his poaching limbs behind, that he may cheat the quicker.
Such an one is loud and ostentatious, full of oaths for argument,
Boastful of honour and sincerity, and not to be put down by facts:
He is obstinate, and sheweth it for firmness; he is rude, displaying it for truth;
And glorieth in doggedness of temper, as if it were uncompromising justice.
Be aware of such a man; his brawling covereth designs;
This specious show of honesty cometh as the herald of a thief:
His feint is made with awkward clashing on the buckler's boss,
But meanwhile doth his secret skill ensure its fatal aim.
This is the hypocrite of honesty; ye may know him by an overacted part;
Taking pains to turn and twist, where other men walk straight;
Or walking straight, he will not step aside to let another pass,
But roughly pusheth on, provoking opposition on the way;
He is full of disquietude for calmness, full of intriguing for simplicity,
Valorous with those who cannot fight, and humble to the brave:
Where brotherly advice were good, this man rudely blameth,
And on some small occasion, flattereth with coarse praise.
The craven in a lion's skin hath conquered by his character for courage;
Sheep's clothing helped the wolf, till he slew by his character for kindness.
Forhonesty hath many gains, and well the wise have knownThis will prosper to the end, and fill their house with gold.The phosphorus of cheatery will fade, and all its profits perish,While honesty with growing light endureth as the moon.Yea, it would be wise in a world of thieves, where cheating were a virtue,To dare the vice of honesty, if any would be rich.For that which by the laws of God is heightened into duty,Ever, in the practice of a man, will be seen both policy and privilege.Thank God, ye toilers for your bread, in that, daily labouring,He hath suffered the bubbles of self-interest to float upon the stream of duty:For honesty, of every kind, approved by God and man,Of wealth and better weal is found the richest cornucopia.Tempered by humbleness and charity, honesty of speech hath honour;And mingled well with prudence, honesty of purpose hath its praise:Trust payeth homage unto truth, rewarding honesty of action:And all men love to lean on him, who never failed nor fainted.Freedom gloweth in his eyes, and Nobleness of nature at his heart,And Independence took a crown and fixed it on his head:So, he stood in his integrity, just and firm of purpose,Aiding many, fearing none, a spectacle to angels, and to men:Yea,—when the shattered globe shall rock in the throes of dissolution,Still, will he stand in his integrity, sublime—an honest man.
Forhonesty hath many gains, and well the wise have known
This will prosper to the end, and fill their house with gold.
The phosphorus of cheatery will fade, and all its profits perish,
While honesty with growing light endureth as the moon.
Yea, it would be wise in a world of thieves, where cheating were a virtue,
To dare the vice of honesty, if any would be rich.
For that which by the laws of God is heightened into duty,
Ever, in the practice of a man, will be seen both policy and privilege.
Thank God, ye toilers for your bread, in that, daily labouring,
He hath suffered the bubbles of self-interest to float upon the stream of duty:
For honesty, of every kind, approved by God and man,
Of wealth and better weal is found the richest cornucopia.
Tempered by humbleness and charity, honesty of speech hath honour;
And mingled well with prudence, honesty of purpose hath its praise:
Trust payeth homage unto truth, rewarding honesty of action:
And all men love to lean on him, who never failed nor fainted.
Freedom gloweth in his eyes, and Nobleness of nature at his heart,
And Independence took a crown and fixed it on his head:
So, he stood in his integrity, just and firm of purpose,
Aiding many, fearing none, a spectacle to angels, and to men:
Yea,—when the shattered globe shall rock in the throes of dissolution,
Still, will he stand in his integrity, sublime—an honest man.
Betteris the mass of men, Suspicion, than thy fears,Kinder than thy thoughts, O chilling heart of Prudence,Purer than thy judgments, ascetic tongue of Censure,In all things worthier to love, if not also wiser to esteem.Yea, let the moralist condemn, there be large extenuations of his verdict,Let the misanthrope shun men and abjure, the most are rather loveable than hateful.How many pleasant faces shed their light on every side,How many angels unawares have crossed thy casual way!How often, in thy journeyings, hast thou made thee instant friends,Found, to be loved a little while, and lost, to meet no more;Friends of happy reminiscence, although so transient in their converse,Liberal, cheerful, and sincere, a crowd of kindly traits.I have sped by land and sea, and mingled with much people,But never yet could find a spot, unsunned by human kindness;Some more, and some less,—but truly all can claim a little;And a man may travel through the world, and sow it thick with friendships.
Betteris the mass of men, Suspicion, than thy fears,
Kinder than thy thoughts, O chilling heart of Prudence,
Purer than thy judgments, ascetic tongue of Censure,
In all things worthier to love, if not also wiser to esteem.
Yea, let the moralist condemn, there be large extenuations of his verdict,
Let the misanthrope shun men and abjure, the most are rather loveable than hateful.
How many pleasant faces shed their light on every side,
How many angels unawares have crossed thy casual way!
How often, in thy journeyings, hast thou made thee instant friends,
Found, to be loved a little while, and lost, to meet no more;
Friends of happy reminiscence, although so transient in their converse,
Liberal, cheerful, and sincere, a crowd of kindly traits.
I have sped by land and sea, and mingled with much people,
But never yet could find a spot, unsunned by human kindness;
Some more, and some less,—but truly all can claim a little;
And a man may travel through the world, and sow it thick with friendships.
Therebe indeed, to say it in all sorrow, bad apostate souls,Deserted of their ministering angels, and given up to liberty of sin,—And other some, the miserly and mean, whose eyes are keen and greedy,With stony hearts, and iron fists, to filch and scrape and clutch,—And others yet again, the coarse in mind, selfish, sensual, brutish,Seeming as incapable of softer thoughts, and dead to better deeds;Such, no lover of the good, no follower of the generous and gentle,Can nearer grow to love, than may consist with pity.Few verily are these among the mass, and cast in fouler moulds,Few and poor in friends, and well-deserving of their poverty:Yet, or ever thou hast harshly judged, and linked their presence to disgust,Consider well the thousand things that made them all they are.Thou hast not thought upon the causes, ranged in consecutive necessity,Which tended long to these effects, with sure constraining power.For each of those unlovely ones, if thou couldst hear his story,Hath much to urge of just excuse, at least as men count justice:Foolish education, thwarted opportunities, natural propensities unchecked,—Thus were they discouraged from all good, and pampered in their evil;And, if thou wilt apprehend them well, tenderly looking on temptations,Bearing the base indulgently, and liberally dealing with the froward,Thou shalt discern a few fair fruits even upon trees so withered,Thou shalt understand how some may praise, and some be found to love them.
Therebe indeed, to say it in all sorrow, bad apostate souls,
Deserted of their ministering angels, and given up to liberty of sin,—
And other some, the miserly and mean, whose eyes are keen and greedy,
With stony hearts, and iron fists, to filch and scrape and clutch,—
And others yet again, the coarse in mind, selfish, sensual, brutish,
Seeming as incapable of softer thoughts, and dead to better deeds;
Such, no lover of the good, no follower of the generous and gentle,
Can nearer grow to love, than may consist with pity.
Few verily are these among the mass, and cast in fouler moulds,
Few and poor in friends, and well-deserving of their poverty:
Yet, or ever thou hast harshly judged, and linked their presence to disgust,
Consider well the thousand things that made them all they are.
Thou hast not thought upon the causes, ranged in consecutive necessity,
Which tended long to these effects, with sure constraining power.
For each of those unlovely ones, if thou couldst hear his story,
Hath much to urge of just excuse, at least as men count justice:
Foolish education, thwarted opportunities, natural propensities unchecked,—
Thus were they discouraged from all good, and pampered in their evil;
And, if thou wilt apprehend them well, tenderly looking on temptations,
Bearing the base indulgently, and liberally dealing with the froward,
Thou shalt discern a few fair fruits even upon trees so withered,
Thou shalt understand how some may praise, and some be found to love them.
Neverthelessfor these, my counsel is, Avoid them if thou canst;For the finer edges of thy virtues will be dulled by attrition with their vice.And there is an enemy within thee; either to palliate their sin,Until, for surface-sweetness, thou too art drawn adown the vortex;Or, even unto fatal pride, to glorify thy purity by contrast,Until the publican and harlot stand nearer heaven than the Pharisee:Or daily strife against their ill, in subtleness may irritate thy soul,And in that struggle thou shall fail, even through infirmity of goodness;Or, callous by continuance of injuries, thou wilt cease to pardon,Cease to feel, and cease to care, a cold case-hardened man.Beware of their example,—and thine own; beware the hazards of the battle;But chiefly be thou ware of this, an unforgiving spirit.Many are the dangers and temptations compassing a bad man's presence;The upas hath a poisonous shade, and who would slumber there?Wherefore, avoid them if thou canst; only, under providence and duty,If thy lot be cast with Kedar, patiently and silently live to their rebuke.
Neverthelessfor these, my counsel is, Avoid them if thou canst;
For the finer edges of thy virtues will be dulled by attrition with their vice.
And there is an enemy within thee; either to palliate their sin,
Until, for surface-sweetness, thou too art drawn adown the vortex;
Or, even unto fatal pride, to glorify thy purity by contrast,
Until the publican and harlot stand nearer heaven than the Pharisee:
Or daily strife against their ill, in subtleness may irritate thy soul,
And in that struggle thou shall fail, even through infirmity of goodness;
Or, callous by continuance of injuries, thou wilt cease to pardon,
Cease to feel, and cease to care, a cold case-hardened man.
Beware of their example,—and thine own; beware the hazards of the battle;
But chiefly be thou ware of this, an unforgiving spirit.
Many are the dangers and temptations compassing a bad man's presence;
The upas hath a poisonous shade, and who would slumber there?
Wherefore, avoid them if thou canst; only, under providence and duty,
If thy lot be cast with Kedar, patiently and silently live to their rebuke.
Howbeautiful thy feet, and full of grace thy coming,O better kind companion, that art well for either world!There is an atmosphere of happiness floating round that man,Love is throned upon his heart, and light is found within his dwelling:His eyes are rayed with peacefulness, and wisdom waiteth on his tongue;Seek him out, cherish him well, walking in the halo of his influence:For he shall be fragrance to thy soul, as a garden of sweet lilies,Hedged and apart from the outer world, an island of the blest among the seas.
Howbeautiful thy feet, and full of grace thy coming,
O better kind companion, that art well for either world!
There is an atmosphere of happiness floating round that man,
Love is throned upon his heart, and light is found within his dwelling:
His eyes are rayed with peacefulness, and wisdom waiteth on his tongue;
Seek him out, cherish him well, walking in the halo of his influence:
For he shall be fragrance to thy soul, as a garden of sweet lilies,
Hedged and apart from the outer world, an island of the blest among the seas.
Thereis an outer world, and there is an inner centre;And many varying rings concentric round the self.For, first, about a man,—after his communion with Heaven,—Is found the helpmate even as himself, the wife of his vows and his affections:See then that ye love in faith, scorning petty jealousies,For Satan spoileth too much love, by souring it with doubts;See that intimacy die not to indifference, nor anxiety sink into moroseness,And tend ye well the mutual minds bound in a copartnership for life.
Thereis an outer world, and there is an inner centre;
And many varying rings concentric round the self.
For, first, about a man,—after his communion with Heaven,—
Is found the helpmate even as himself, the wife of his vows and his affections:
See then that ye love in faith, scorning petty jealousies,
For Satan spoileth too much love, by souring it with doubts;
See that intimacy die not to indifference, nor anxiety sink into moroseness,
And tend ye well the mutual minds bound in a copartnership for life.
Nextof those concentric circles, radiating widely in circumference,Wheel in wheel, and world in world,—come the band of children:A tender nest of soft young hearts, each to be separately studied,A curious eager flock of minds, to be severally tamed and tutored.And a man, blest with these, hath made his own society,He is independent of the world, hanging on his friends more loosely:For the little faces round his hearth are friends enow for him,If he seek others, it is for sake of these, and less for his own pleasure.What companionship so sweet, yea, who can teach so wellAs these pure budding intellects, and bright unsullied hearts?What voice so musical as theirs, what visions of elegance so comely,What thoughts and hopes and holy prayers, can others cause like these?If ye count society for pastime,—what happier recreation than a nurseling,Its winning ways, its prattling tongue, its innocence and mirth?If ye count society for good,—how fair a field is here,To guide these souls to God, and multiply thyself for heaven!And this sweet social commerce with thy children groweth as their growth,Unless thou fail of duty, or have weaned them by thine absence.Keep them near thee, rear them well, guide, correct, instruct them;And be the playmate of their games, the judge in their complainings.So shall the maiden and the youth love thee as their sympathizing friend,And bring their joys to share with thee, their sorrows for consoling:Yea, their inmost hopes shall yearn to thee for counsel,They will not hide their very loves, if thou hast won their trust;But, even as man and woman, shall they gladly seek their father,Feeling yet as children feel, though void of fear in honour:And thou shall be a Nestor in the camp, the just and good old man,Hearty still, though full of years, and held the friend of all;No secret shall be kept from thee; for if ill, thy wisdom may repair it;If well, thy praise is precious; and they would not miss that prize.O the blessing of a home, where old and young mix kindly,The young unawed, the old unchilled, in unreserved communion!O that refuge from the world, when a stricken son or daughterMay seek, with confidence of love, a father's hearth and heart;Sure of a welcome, though others cast them out; of kindness, though men scorn them;And finding there the last to blame, the earliest to commend.Come unto me, my son, if sin shall have tempted thee astray,I will not chide thee like the rest, but help thee to return;Come unto me, my son, if men rebuke and mock thee,There always shall be one to bless,—for I am on thy side!
Nextof those concentric circles, radiating widely in circumference,
Wheel in wheel, and world in world,—come the band of children:
A tender nest of soft young hearts, each to be separately studied,
A curious eager flock of minds, to be severally tamed and tutored.
And a man, blest with these, hath made his own society,
He is independent of the world, hanging on his friends more loosely:
For the little faces round his hearth are friends enow for him,
If he seek others, it is for sake of these, and less for his own pleasure.
What companionship so sweet, yea, who can teach so well
As these pure budding intellects, and bright unsullied hearts?
What voice so musical as theirs, what visions of elegance so comely,
What thoughts and hopes and holy prayers, can others cause like these?
If ye count society for pastime,—what happier recreation than a nurseling,
Its winning ways, its prattling tongue, its innocence and mirth?
If ye count society for good,—how fair a field is here,
To guide these souls to God, and multiply thyself for heaven!
And this sweet social commerce with thy children groweth as their growth,
Unless thou fail of duty, or have weaned them by thine absence.
Keep them near thee, rear them well, guide, correct, instruct them;
And be the playmate of their games, the judge in their complainings.
So shall the maiden and the youth love thee as their sympathizing friend,
And bring their joys to share with thee, their sorrows for consoling:
Yea, their inmost hopes shall yearn to thee for counsel,
They will not hide their very loves, if thou hast won their trust;
But, even as man and woman, shall they gladly seek their father,
Feeling yet as children feel, though void of fear in honour:
And thou shall be a Nestor in the camp, the just and good old man,
Hearty still, though full of years, and held the friend of all;
No secret shall be kept from thee; for if ill, thy wisdom may repair it;
If well, thy praise is precious; and they would not miss that prize.
O the blessing of a home, where old and young mix kindly,
The young unawed, the old unchilled, in unreserved communion!
O that refuge from the world, when a stricken son or daughter
May seek, with confidence of love, a father's hearth and heart;
Sure of a welcome, though others cast them out; of kindness, though men scorn them;
And finding there the last to blame, the earliest to commend.
Come unto me, my son, if sin shall have tempted thee astray,
I will not chide thee like the rest, but help thee to return;
Come unto me, my son, if men rebuke and mock thee,
There always shall be one to bless,—for I am on thy side!
Alas,—and bitter is their loss, the parents, and the children,Who, loving up and down the world, have missed each other's friendship.Haply, it had grown of careless life, for years go swiftly by;Or sprang of too much carefulness, that drank up all the streams:Haply, sullen disappointment came and quenched the fire;Haply, sternness, or misrule, crushed or warped the feelings.Then, ill-combined in tempers, they learnt not each the other;The growing child grew out of love, and drew the breath of fear;The youth, ill-trained, renounced his fears, and made a league with cunning;And so those hardened men were foes, that should have been chief friends.Where was the cause, the mutual cause? O hunt it out to kill it:And what the cure, the simple cure?—A mutual flash of love.For dull estrangement's daily air froze up those early sympathiesBy cold continuance in apathy, or cutting winds of censure;It was a slow process, which any fleeting hour could have melted;But every hour duly came, and passed without the sun.Caution, care, and dry distrust, obscured each other's minds,Till both those gardens, rich to yield, were rank with many weeds:And doubt, a hidden worm, gnawed at the root of their Society,They lacked of mutual confidence, and lived in mutual dread.Judge me, many fathers; and hearken to my counsel, many sons;I come with good in either hand, to reconcile contentions;For better friends can no man have, than those whom God hath given,And he that hath despised the gift, thought ill of that he knew not.Be ye wiser,—(I speak unto the sons,)—and win paternal friendships,Cultivate their kindness, seek them out with honour, and be the screening Japhet to their failings:And be ye wiser,—(I speak unto the fathers)—gain those filial comrades,Cherish their reasonable converse, and look not with coldness on your children.For the friendship of a child is the brightest gem set upon the circlet of Society,A jewel worth a world of pains—a jewel seldom seen.
Alas,—and bitter is their loss, the parents, and the children,
Who, loving up and down the world, have missed each other's friendship.
Haply, it had grown of careless life, for years go swiftly by;
Or sprang of too much carefulness, that drank up all the streams:
Haply, sullen disappointment came and quenched the fire;
Haply, sternness, or misrule, crushed or warped the feelings.
Then, ill-combined in tempers, they learnt not each the other;
The growing child grew out of love, and drew the breath of fear;
The youth, ill-trained, renounced his fears, and made a league with cunning;
And so those hardened men were foes, that should have been chief friends.
Where was the cause, the mutual cause? O hunt it out to kill it:
And what the cure, the simple cure?—A mutual flash of love.
For dull estrangement's daily air froze up those early sympathies
By cold continuance in apathy, or cutting winds of censure;
It was a slow process, which any fleeting hour could have melted;
But every hour duly came, and passed without the sun.
Caution, care, and dry distrust, obscured each other's minds,
Till both those gardens, rich to yield, were rank with many weeds:
And doubt, a hidden worm, gnawed at the root of their Society,
They lacked of mutual confidence, and lived in mutual dread.
Judge me, many fathers; and hearken to my counsel, many sons;
I come with good in either hand, to reconcile contentions;
For better friends can no man have, than those whom God hath given,
And he that hath despised the gift, thought ill of that he knew not.
Be ye wiser,—(I speak unto the sons,)—and win paternal friendships,
Cultivate their kindness, seek them out with honour, and be the screening Japhet to their failings:
And be ye wiser,—(I speak unto the fathers)—gain those filial comrades,
Cherish their reasonable converse, and look not with coldness on your children.
For the friendship of a child is the brightest gem set upon the circlet of Society,
A jewel worth a world of pains—a jewel seldom seen.
Thethird cycle on the waters, another of those rings upon the onyx,A further definite broad zone, holdeth kith and kin:A motley band of many tribes, and under various banners;The intimate and strangers, the known and loved, or only seen for loathing:Some, dear for their deserts, shall honour and have honour of relationship,Some, despising duties, will add to it both burden and disgrace.A man's nearest kin are oftentimes far other than his dearest,Yet in the season of affliction those will haste to help him.For, note thou this, the providence of God hath bound up families together,To mutual aid and patient trial; yea, those ties are strong.Friends are ever dearer in thy wealth, but relations to be trusted in thy need,For these are God's appointed way, and those the choice of man:There is lower warmth in kin, but smaller truth in friends,The latter show more surface, and the first have more of depth:Relations rally to the rescue, even in estrangement and neglect,Where friends will have fled at thy defeat, even after promises and kindness;For friends come and go, the whim that bound may loose them,But none can dissever a relationship, and Fate hath tied the knot.
Thethird cycle on the waters, another of those rings upon the onyx,
A further definite broad zone, holdeth kith and kin:
A motley band of many tribes, and under various banners;
The intimate and strangers, the known and loved, or only seen for loathing:
Some, dear for their deserts, shall honour and have honour of relationship,
Some, despising duties, will add to it both burden and disgrace.
A man's nearest kin are oftentimes far other than his dearest,
Yet in the season of affliction those will haste to help him.
For, note thou this, the providence of God hath bound up families together,
To mutual aid and patient trial; yea, those ties are strong.
Friends are ever dearer in thy wealth, but relations to be trusted in thy need,
For these are God's appointed way, and those the choice of man:
There is lower warmth in kin, but smaller truth in friends,
The latter show more surface, and the first have more of depth:
Relations rally to the rescue, even in estrangement and neglect,
Where friends will have fled at thy defeat, even after promises and kindness;
For friends come and go, the whim that bound may loose them,
But none can dissever a relationship, and Fate hath tied the knot.
Wide,and edged with shadowy bounds, a distant boulevard to the city,The common crowd of social life is buzzing round about:That is as the outer court, with all defences levelled,Ranged around a man's own fortress, and his father's house.For many friends go in and out, and praise thee, finding pasture,And some are honeycomb to-day, who turn to gall to-morrow:And many a garrulous acquaintance with his frequent visitWill spend his leisure to thy cost, selling dulness dearly:For the idle call is a heavy tax, where time is counted gold,And even in the day of relaxation, haply he may spare his presence,—He found himself alone, and came to talk,—till they that hear are tired;Let the man bethink him of an errand, that his face be not unwelcome.
Wide,and edged with shadowy bounds, a distant boulevard to the city,
The common crowd of social life is buzzing round about:
That is as the outer court, with all defences levelled,
Ranged around a man's own fortress, and his father's house.
For many friends go in and out, and praise thee, finding pasture,
And some are honeycomb to-day, who turn to gall to-morrow:
And many a garrulous acquaintance with his frequent visit
Will spend his leisure to thy cost, selling dulness dearly:
For the idle call is a heavy tax, where time is counted gold,
And even in the day of relaxation, haply he may spare his presence,—
He found himself alone, and came to talk,—till they that hear are tired;
Let the man bethink him of an errand, that his face be not unwelcome.
Butmany friends there be, both well and wisely greeted,Gladly are they hailed upon the hills, and are chidden that they come so seldom.Of such are the early recollections, school friendships that have thriven to grey hairs,And veteran men are young once more, and talk of boyish pranks:And such, yet older on the list, are those who loved thy father,Thy father's friend, and thine, who tendereth thee tried love:Such also, many gentle hearts, whom thou hast known too lately,Hastening now to learn their worth, and chary of those minutes:And such, thy faithful pastor, coming to thy home with peace;—Greet the good man heartily,—and bid thy children bless him!
Butmany friends there be, both well and wisely greeted,
Gladly are they hailed upon the hills, and are chidden that they come so seldom.
Of such are the early recollections, school friendships that have thriven to grey hairs,
And veteran men are young once more, and talk of boyish pranks:
And such, yet older on the list, are those who loved thy father,
Thy father's friend, and thine, who tendereth thee tried love:
Such also, many gentle hearts, whom thou hast known too lately,
Hastening now to learn their worth, and chary of those minutes:
And such, thy faithful pastor, coming to thy home with peace;—
Greet the good man heartily,—and bid thy children bless him!
Manythoughts, many thoughts,—who can catch them all?The best are ever swiftest winged, the duller lag behind:For, behold, in these vast themes, my mind is as a forest of the West,And flocking pigeons come in clouds, and bend the groaning branches;Here for a rest, then off and away,—they have sped to other climes,And leave me to my peace once more, a holiday from thoughts.I dare not lure them back, for the mighty subject of SocietyWould tempt to many a hackneyed note in many a weary key:Sage warnings, stout advice, experiences ever to be learned,The foolish floatiness of vanity, and solemn trumperies of pride,—Economy, the poor man's mint,—extravagance, the rich man's pitfall,Harmful copings with the better, and empty-headed apings of the worse,Circumstance and custom, sympathies, antipathies, diverse kinds of conversation,Vapid pleasures, the weariness of gaiety, the strife and bustle of the world,Home comforts, the miseries of style, the cobweb lines of etiquette,The hollowness of courtesies, and substance of deceits,—idleness, business, and pastime,—The multitude of matters to be done, the when, and where, and how,And varying shades of character, to do, undo, or miss them,—All these, and many more alike, thick converging fancies,Flit in throngs about my theme, as honey-bees at even to their hive.Find an end, or make one: these seeds are dragon's teeth:Sown thoughts grow to things, and fill that field, the world:Many wise have gone before, and used the sickle well;Who can find a corner now, where none have bound the sheaves?So, other some may reap: I do but glean and gather:My sorry handful hath been culled after the ripe harvest of Society.
Manythoughts, many thoughts,—who can catch them all?
The best are ever swiftest winged, the duller lag behind:
For, behold, in these vast themes, my mind is as a forest of the West,
And flocking pigeons come in clouds, and bend the groaning branches;
Here for a rest, then off and away,—they have sped to other climes,
And leave me to my peace once more, a holiday from thoughts.
I dare not lure them back, for the mighty subject of Society
Would tempt to many a hackneyed note in many a weary key:
Sage warnings, stout advice, experiences ever to be learned,
The foolish floatiness of vanity, and solemn trumperies of pride,—
Economy, the poor man's mint,—extravagance, the rich man's pitfall,
Harmful copings with the better, and empty-headed apings of the worse,
Circumstance and custom, sympathies, antipathies, diverse kinds of conversation,
Vapid pleasures, the weariness of gaiety, the strife and bustle of the world,
Home comforts, the miseries of style, the cobweb lines of etiquette,
The hollowness of courtesies, and substance of deceits,—idleness, business, and pastime,—
The multitude of matters to be done, the when, and where, and how,
And varying shades of character, to do, undo, or miss them,—
All these, and many more alike, thick converging fancies,
Flit in throngs about my theme, as honey-bees at even to their hive.
Find an end, or make one: these seeds are dragon's teeth:
Sown thoughts grow to things, and fill that field, the world:
Many wise have gone before, and used the sickle well;
Who can find a corner now, where none have bound the sheaves?
So, other some may reap: I do but glean and gather:
My sorry handful hath been culled after the ripe harvest of Society.
Whohath known his brother,—or found him in his freedom unrestrained?Even he, whose hidden glance hath watched his deepest Solitude.For we walk the world in domino, putting on characters and habits,And wear a social Janus mask, while others stand around:I speak not of the hypocrite, nor dream of meant deceptions,But of that quick unconscious change, whereof the best know most.
Whohath known his brother,—or found him in his freedom unrestrained?
Even he, whose hidden glance hath watched his deepest Solitude.
For we walk the world in domino, putting on characters and habits,
And wear a social Janus mask, while others stand around:
I speak not of the hypocrite, nor dream of meant deceptions,
But of that quick unconscious change, whereof the best know most.
Formind hath its influence on mind; and no man is free but when alone;Yea, let a dog be watching thee, its eye will tend to thy restraint:Self-possession cannot be so perfect, with another intellect beside thee,It is not as a natural result, but rather the educated produce:The presence of a second spirit must control thine own,And throw it off its equipoise of peace, to balance by an effort.The common minds of common men know of this but little;What then? they know nothing of themselves: I speak to those who know.The consciousness that some are hearing, cometh as a care,The sense that some are watching near, bindeth thee to caution;And the tree of tender nerves shrinketh as a touched mimosa,Drooping like a plant in drought, with half its strength decayed.There are antipathies warning from the many, and sympathies drawing to the few,But merchant-minds have crushed the first, and cannot feel the latter:Whereas to the quickened apprehension of a keen and spiritual intellect,Antipathies are galling, and sympathies oppress, and solitude is quiet.
Formind hath its influence on mind; and no man is free but when alone;
Yea, let a dog be watching thee, its eye will tend to thy restraint:
Self-possession cannot be so perfect, with another intellect beside thee,
It is not as a natural result, but rather the educated produce:
The presence of a second spirit must control thine own,
And throw it off its equipoise of peace, to balance by an effort.
The common minds of common men know of this but little;
What then? they know nothing of themselves: I speak to those who know.
The consciousness that some are hearing, cometh as a care,
The sense that some are watching near, bindeth thee to caution;
And the tree of tender nerves shrinketh as a touched mimosa,
Drooping like a plant in drought, with half its strength decayed.
There are antipathies warning from the many, and sympathies drawing to the few,
But merchant-minds have crushed the first, and cannot feel the latter:
Whereas to the quickened apprehension of a keen and spiritual intellect,
Antipathies are galling, and sympathies oppress, and solitude is quiet.
Hethat dwelleth mainly by himself, heedeth most of others,But they that live in crowds, think chiefly of themselves.There is indeed a selfish seeming, where the anchorite liveth alone,But probe his thoughts,—they travel far, dreaming for ever of the world:And there is an apparent generosity, when a man mixeth freely with his fellows;But prove his mind, by day and night, his thoughts are all of self:The world, inciting him to pleasures, or relentlessly provoking him to toil,Is full of anxious rivals, each with a difference of interest;So must he plan and practise for himself, even as his own best friend;And the gay soul of dissipation never had a thought unselfish.The hermit standeth out of strife, abiding in a contemplative calmness;What shall he contemplate,—himself? a meagre theme for musing:He hath cast off follies, and kept aloof from cares; a man of simple wants;God and the soul, these are his excuse, a just excuse, for solitude:But he carried with him to his cell the half-dead feelings of humanity;There were they rested and refreshed; and he yearned once more on men.
Hethat dwelleth mainly by himself, heedeth most of others,
But they that live in crowds, think chiefly of themselves.
There is indeed a selfish seeming, where the anchorite liveth alone,
But probe his thoughts,—they travel far, dreaming for ever of the world:
And there is an apparent generosity, when a man mixeth freely with his fellows;
But prove his mind, by day and night, his thoughts are all of self:
The world, inciting him to pleasures, or relentlessly provoking him to toil,
Is full of anxious rivals, each with a difference of interest;
So must he plan and practise for himself, even as his own best friend;
And the gay soul of dissipation never had a thought unselfish.
The hermit standeth out of strife, abiding in a contemplative calmness;
What shall he contemplate,—himself? a meagre theme for musing:
He hath cast off follies, and kept aloof from cares; a man of simple wants;
God and the soul, these are his excuse, a just excuse, for solitude:
But he carried with him to his cell the half-dead feelings of humanity;
There were they rested and refreshed; and he yearned once more on men.
Whereis the wise, or the learned, or the good, that sought not solitude for thinking,And from seclusion's secret vale brought forth his precious fruits?Forests of Aricia, your deep shade mellowed Numa's wisdom,Peaceful gardens of Vaucluse, ye nourished Petrarch's love;Solitude made a Cincinnatus, ripening the hero and the patriot,And taught De Staël self-knowledge, even in the damp Bastile;It fostered the piety of Jerome, matured the labours of Augustine,And gave imperial Charles religion for ambition:That which Scipio praised, that which Alfred practised,Which fired Demosthenes to eloquence, and fed the mind of Milton,Which quickened zeal, nurtured genius, found out the secret things of science,Helped repentance, shamed folly, and comforted the good with peace,—By all men just and wise, by all things pure and perfect,How truly, Solitude, art thou the fostering nurse of greatness!
Whereis the wise, or the learned, or the good, that sought not solitude for thinking,
And from seclusion's secret vale brought forth his precious fruits?
Forests of Aricia, your deep shade mellowed Numa's wisdom,
Peaceful gardens of Vaucluse, ye nourished Petrarch's love;
Solitude made a Cincinnatus, ripening the hero and the patriot,
And taught De Staël self-knowledge, even in the damp Bastile;
It fostered the piety of Jerome, matured the labours of Augustine,
And gave imperial Charles religion for ambition:
That which Scipio praised, that which Alfred practised,
Which fired Demosthenes to eloquence, and fed the mind of Milton,
Which quickened zeal, nurtured genius, found out the secret things of science,
Helped repentance, shamed folly, and comforted the good with peace,—
By all men just and wise, by all things pure and perfect,
How truly, Solitude, art thou the fostering nurse of greatness!
Enough;—the theme is vast; sear me these necks of Hydra:What shall drive away the thoughts flocking to this carcase?Yea,—that all which man may think, hath long been said of Solitude:For many wise have proved and preached its evils and its good.I cannot add,—I will not steal; enough, for all is spoken:Yet heed thou these for practice, and discernment among men.
Enough;—the theme is vast; sear me these necks of Hydra:
What shall drive away the thoughts flocking to this carcase?
Yea,—that all which man may think, hath long been said of Solitude:
For many wise have proved and preached its evils and its good.
I cannot add,—I will not steal; enough, for all is spoken:
Yet heed thou these for practice, and discernment among men.
Thereare pompous talkers, solemn, oracular, and dull:Track them from society to solitude; and there ye find them fools.There are light-hearted jesters, taking up with company for pastime;How speed they when alone?—serious, wise, and thoughtful.And wherefore? both are actors, saving when in solitude,There they live their truest life, and all things show sincere:But the fool by pomposity of speech striveth to be counted wise,And the wise, for holiday and pleasance, playeth with the fool's best bauble.The solemn seemer, as a rule, will be found more ignorant and shallowThan those who laugh both loud and long, content to hide their knowledge.
Thereare pompous talkers, solemn, oracular, and dull:
Track them from society to solitude; and there ye find them fools.
There are light-hearted jesters, taking up with company for pastime;
How speed they when alone?—serious, wise, and thoughtful.
And wherefore? both are actors, saving when in solitude,
There they live their truest life, and all things show sincere:
But the fool by pomposity of speech striveth to be counted wise,
And the wise, for holiday and pleasance, playeth with the fool's best bauble.
The solemn seemer, as a rule, will be found more ignorant and shallow
Than those who laugh both loud and long, content to hide their knowledge.
Forthee; seek thou Solitude, but neither in excess, nor morosely;Seek her for her precious things, and not of thine own pride.For there, separate from a crowd, the still small voice will talk with thee,Truth's whisper, heard and echoed by responding conscience;There, shalt thou gather up the ravelled skeins of feeling,And mend the nets of usefulness, and rest awhile for duties;There, thou shalt hive thy lore, and eat the fruits of study,For Solitude delighteth well to feed on many thoughts:There, as thou sittest peaceful, communing with fancy,The precious poetry of life shall gild its leaden cares:There, as thou walkest by the sea, beneath the gentle stars,Many kindling seeds of good will sprout within thy soul;Thou shalt weep in Solitude,—thou shalt pray in Solitude,Thou shalt sing for joy of heart, and praise the grace of Solitude.Pass on, pass on!—for this is the path of wisdom:God make thee prosper on the way; I leave thee well with Solitude.
Forthee; seek thou Solitude, but neither in excess, nor morosely;
Seek her for her precious things, and not of thine own pride.
For there, separate from a crowd, the still small voice will talk with thee,
Truth's whisper, heard and echoed by responding conscience;
There, shalt thou gather up the ravelled skeins of feeling,
And mend the nets of usefulness, and rest awhile for duties;
There, thou shalt hive thy lore, and eat the fruits of study,
For Solitude delighteth well to feed on many thoughts:
There, as thou sittest peaceful, communing with fancy,
The precious poetry of life shall gild its leaden cares:
There, as thou walkest by the sea, beneath the gentle stars,
Many kindling seeds of good will sprout within thy soul;
Thou shalt weep in Solitude,—thou shalt pray in Solitude,
Thou shalt sing for joy of heart, and praise the grace of Solitude.
Pass on, pass on!—for this is the path of wisdom:
God make thee prosper on the way; I leave thee well with Solitude.
Everybeginning is shrouded in a mist, those vague ideas beyond,And the traveller setteth on his journey, oppressed with many thoughts,Balancing his hopes and fears, and looking for some order in the chaos,Some secret path between the cliffs, that seem to bar his way:So, he commenceth at a clue, unravelling its tangled skein,And boldly speedeth on to thread the labyrinth before him.Then as he gropeth in the darkness, light is attendant on his steps,He walketh straight in fervent faith, and difficulties vanish at his presence;The very flashing of his sword scattereth those shadowy foes;Confident and sanguine of success, he goeth forth conquering and to conquer.
Everybeginning is shrouded in a mist, those vague ideas beyond,
And the traveller setteth on his journey, oppressed with many thoughts,
Balancing his hopes and fears, and looking for some order in the chaos,
Some secret path between the cliffs, that seem to bar his way:
So, he commenceth at a clue, unravelling its tangled skein,
And boldly speedeth on to thread the labyrinth before him.
Then as he gropeth in the darkness, light is attendant on his steps,
He walketh straight in fervent faith, and difficulties vanish at his presence;
The very flashing of his sword scattereth those shadowy foes;
Confident and sanguine of success, he goeth forth conquering and to conquer.
Everymiddle is burdened with a weariness,—to have to go as far again,—And Diligence is sick at heart, and Enterprise foot-sore:That which began in zeal, bursting as a fresh-dug spring,Goeth on doggedly in toil, and hath no help of nature:Then, is need of moral might, to wrestle with the animal re-action,Still to fight, with few men left, and still though faint pursuing.The middle is a marshy flat, whereon the wheels go heavily,With clouds of doubt above, and ruts of discouragement below:Press on, sturdy traveller, yet a league, and yet a league!While every step is binding wings on thy victorious feet.
Everymiddle is burdened with a weariness,—to have to go as far again,—
And Diligence is sick at heart, and Enterprise foot-sore:
That which began in zeal, bursting as a fresh-dug spring,
Goeth on doggedly in toil, and hath no help of nature:
Then, is need of moral might, to wrestle with the animal re-action,
Still to fight, with few men left, and still though faint pursuing.
The middle is a marshy flat, whereon the wheels go heavily,
With clouds of doubt above, and ruts of discouragement below:
Press on, sturdy traveller, yet a league, and yet a league!
While every step is binding wings on thy victorious feet.
Everyend is happiness, the glorious consummation of design,The perils past, the fears annulled, the journey at its close:And the traveller resteth in complacency, home-returned at last:Work done may claim its wages, the goal gained hath won its prize:While the labour lasted, while the race was running,Many-times the sinews ached, and half refused the struggle:But now, all is quietness, a pleasant hour given to repose;Calmness in the retrospect of good, and calmness in the prospect of a blessing.Hope was glad in the beginning, and fear was sad midway,But sweet fruition cometh in the end, a harvest safe and sure.That which is, can never not have been: facts are solid as the pyramids:A thing done is written in the rock, yea, with a pen of iron.Uncertainty no more can scare, the proof is seen complete,Nor accident render unaccomplished, for the deed is finished.Thus the end shall crown the work, with grace, grace, unto the top-stone,And the work shall triumph in its crown, with peace, peace, unto the builder.
Everyend is happiness, the glorious consummation of design,
The perils past, the fears annulled, the journey at its close:
And the traveller resteth in complacency, home-returned at last:
Work done may claim its wages, the goal gained hath won its prize:
While the labour lasted, while the race was running,
Many-times the sinews ached, and half refused the struggle:
But now, all is quietness, a pleasant hour given to repose;
Calmness in the retrospect of good, and calmness in the prospect of a blessing.
Hope was glad in the beginning, and fear was sad midway,
But sweet fruition cometh in the end, a harvest safe and sure.
That which is, can never not have been: facts are solid as the pyramids:
A thing done is written in the rock, yea, with a pen of iron.
Uncertainty no more can scare, the proof is seen complete,
Nor accident render unaccomplished, for the deed is finished.
Thus the end shall crown the work, with grace, grace, unto the top-stone,
And the work shall triumph in its crown, with peace, peace, unto the builder.
I havewritten, as other some of old, in quaint and meaning phrase,Of many things for either world, a crowd of facts and fancies:And will ye judge me, men of mind?—judge in kindly calmness;For bitter words of haste or hate have often been repented.Deep dreaming upon surface reading; imagery crowded over argument;Order less considered in the multitude of thoughts: this witnessing is just.Scripture gave the holier themes, the well-turned words and wisdom;While Fancy on her swallow's wing skimmed those deeper waters.And wilt thou say with shrewdness,—He hath burnished up old truths,But where he seemed to fashion new, the novelty was false?Alas, for us in these last days, our elders reaped the harvest:Alas, for all men in all times, who glean so many tares!That which is true, how should it be new? for time is old in years:That which is new, how should it be true? for I am young in wisdom:Nevertheless, I have spoken at my best, according to the mercies given me,Of high, and deep, and famous things, of Evil, or of Good.I have told of Errors near akin to Truth, and wholesomes linked with poison;Of subtle Uses in the humblest, and the deep laid plots of Pride:I have praised Wisdom, comforted thy Hope, and proved to thee the folly of Complainings;Hinted at the hazard of an Influence, and turned thee from the terrors of Ambition.I have shown thee thy captivity to Law: yet bade thee hide Humilities;I have lifted the curtains of Memory; and smoothed the soft pillow of Rest.Experience had his sober hour; and Character its keen appreciation;And holy Anger stood sublime, where Hatred fell condemned.Prayer spake the mind of God, even in His own good words:And Zeal, with kindness warmly mixt, allied him to Discretion.I taught thee that nothing is a Trifle, even to the laugh of Recreation;I led thee with the Train of Religion, to be dazzled at the name of the Triune.Thought confessed his unseen fears; and Speech declared his triumphs;I sang the blessedness of books; and commended the prudence of a letter:Riches found their room, either unto honour—or despising:Inventions took their lower place, for all things come of God.I scorned Ridicule; nor would humble me for Praise; for I had gained Self-knowledge;And pleaded fervently for Brutes, who suffer for man's sin.Then, I rose to Friendship; and bathed in all the tenderness of Love;Knew the purity of Marriage; and blest the face of Children.And whereas, by petulance or pride, I had haply said some evil,Mine after-thought was Tolerance, to bear the faults of all:Many faults, ill to bear, bred the theme of Sorrow;Many virtues, dear to see, induced the gush of Joy.
I havewritten, as other some of old, in quaint and meaning phrase,
Of many things for either world, a crowd of facts and fancies:
And will ye judge me, men of mind?—judge in kindly calmness;
For bitter words of haste or hate have often been repented.
Deep dreaming upon surface reading; imagery crowded over argument;
Order less considered in the multitude of thoughts: this witnessing is just.
Scripture gave the holier themes, the well-turned words and wisdom;
While Fancy on her swallow's wing skimmed those deeper waters.
And wilt thou say with shrewdness,—He hath burnished up old truths,
But where he seemed to fashion new, the novelty was false?
Alas, for us in these last days, our elders reaped the harvest:
Alas, for all men in all times, who glean so many tares!
That which is true, how should it be new? for time is old in years:
That which is new, how should it be true? for I am young in wisdom:
Nevertheless, I have spoken at my best, according to the mercies given me,
Of high, and deep, and famous things, of Evil, or of Good.
I have told of Errors near akin to Truth, and wholesomes linked with poison;
Of subtle Uses in the humblest, and the deep laid plots of Pride:
I have praised Wisdom, comforted thy Hope, and proved to thee the folly of Complainings;
Hinted at the hazard of an Influence, and turned thee from the terrors of Ambition.
I have shown thee thy captivity to Law: yet bade thee hide Humilities;
I have lifted the curtains of Memory; and smoothed the soft pillow of Rest.
Experience had his sober hour; and Character its keen appreciation;
And holy Anger stood sublime, where Hatred fell condemned.
Prayer spake the mind of God, even in His own good words:
And Zeal, with kindness warmly mixt, allied him to Discretion.
I taught thee that nothing is a Trifle, even to the laugh of Recreation;
I led thee with the Train of Religion, to be dazzled at the name of the Triune.
Thought confessed his unseen fears; and Speech declared his triumphs;
I sang the blessedness of books; and commended the prudence of a letter:
Riches found their room, either unto honour—or despising:
Inventions took their lower place, for all things come of God.
I scorned Ridicule; nor would humble me for Praise; for I had gained Self-knowledge;
And pleaded fervently for Brutes, who suffer for man's sin.
Then, I rose to Friendship; and bathed in all the tenderness of Love;
Knew the purity of Marriage; and blest the face of Children.
And whereas, by petulance or pride, I had haply said some evil,
Mine after-thought was Tolerance, to bear the faults of all:
Many faults, ill to bear, bred the theme of Sorrow;
Many virtues, dear to see, induced the gush of Joy.
Thus,for awhile, as leaving thee in joy, was I loth to break that spell;I roamed to other things and thoughts, and fashioned other books.But in a season of reflection, after many days,A thought stood before me in its garment of the past,—and lo, a legion with it!They came in thronging bands,—I could not fight nor fly them,—And so they took me to their tent, the prisoner of thoughts.
Thus,for awhile, as leaving thee in joy, was I loth to break that spell;
I roamed to other things and thoughts, and fashioned other books.
But in a season of reflection, after many days,
A thought stood before me in its garment of the past,—and lo, a legion with it!
They came in thronging bands,—I could not fight nor fly them,—
And so they took me to their tent, the prisoner of thoughts.
Then,I bade thee greet me well, and heed my cheerful counsels;For every day we have a Friend, who changeth not with time.Gladly did I speak of my commission, for I felt it graven on my heart,And could not hold my wiser peace, but magnified mine office.Mystery had left her echoes in my mind, and I discoursed her secret:And thence I turned aside to man, and judged him for his Gifts.Beauty, noble thesis, had a world of sweets to sing of,And dated all her praise from God, the birthday of the soul.Thence grew Fame; and Flattery came like Agag;But this was as the nauseous dregs, of that inspiring cup:Forth from Flattery sprang in opposition harsh and dull Neglect;And kind Contentment's gentle face to smile away the sadness.Life, all buoyancy and light, and Death, that sullen silence,Sped the soul to Immortality, the final home of man.Then, in metaphysical review, passed a triple troop,Swift Ideas, sounding Names, and heavily armed Things:Faith spake of her achievements even among men her brethren;And Honesty, with open mouth, would vindicate himself:The retrospect of Social life had many truths to tell of,And then I left thee to thy Solitude, learning there of Wisdom.
Then,I bade thee greet me well, and heed my cheerful counsels;
For every day we have a Friend, who changeth not with time.
Gladly did I speak of my commission, for I felt it graven on my heart,
And could not hold my wiser peace, but magnified mine office.
Mystery had left her echoes in my mind, and I discoursed her secret:
And thence I turned aside to man, and judged him for his Gifts.
Beauty, noble thesis, had a world of sweets to sing of,
And dated all her praise from God, the birthday of the soul.
Thence grew Fame; and Flattery came like Agag;
But this was as the nauseous dregs, of that inspiring cup:
Forth from Flattery sprang in opposition harsh and dull Neglect;
And kind Contentment's gentle face to smile away the sadness.
Life, all buoyancy and light, and Death, that sullen silence,
Sped the soul to Immortality, the final home of man.
Then, in metaphysical review, passed a triple troop,
Swift Ideas, sounding Names, and heavily armed Things:
Faith spake of her achievements even among men her brethren;
And Honesty, with open mouth, would vindicate himself:
The retrospect of Social life had many truths to tell of,
And then I left thee to thy Solitude, learning there of Wisdom.
Friendand scholar, lover of the right, mine equal kind companion,—I prize indeed thy favour, and these sympathies are dear:Still, if thy heart be little with me, wot thou well, my brother,I canvass not the smiles of praise, nor dread the frowns of censure.Through many themes in many thoughts, have we held sweet converse;But God alone be praised for mind! He only is sufficient,And every thought in every theme by prayer had been established:Who then should fear the face of man, when God hath answered prayer?—I speak it not in arrogance of heart, but humbly as of justice,I think it not in vanity of soul, but tenderly, for gratitude,—God hath blest my mind, and taught it many truths:And I have echoed some to thee, in weakness, yet sincerely:Yea, though ignorance and error shall have marred those lessons of His teaching,I stand in mine own Master's praise, or fall to His reproof.If thou lovest, help me with thy blessing; if otherwise, mine shall be for thee;If thou approvest, heed my words; if otherwise, in kindness be my teacher.Many mingled thoughts for self have warped my better aim;Many motives tempted still, to toil for pride or praise:Alas, I have loved pride and praise, like others worse or worthier;But hate and fear them now, as snakes that fastened on my hand:Scævola burnt both hand and crime; but Paul flung the viper on the fire:He shook it off, and felt no harm: so be it! I renounce them.Rebuke then, if thou wilt rebuke,—but neither hastily nor harshly;Or, if thou wilt commend, be it honestly, of right: I work for God and good.
Friendand scholar, lover of the right, mine equal kind companion,—
I prize indeed thy favour, and these sympathies are dear:
Still, if thy heart be little with me, wot thou well, my brother,
I canvass not the smiles of praise, nor dread the frowns of censure.
Through many themes in many thoughts, have we held sweet converse;
But God alone be praised for mind! He only is sufficient,
And every thought in every theme by prayer had been established:
Who then should fear the face of man, when God hath answered prayer?—
I speak it not in arrogance of heart, but humbly as of justice,
I think it not in vanity of soul, but tenderly, for gratitude,—
God hath blest my mind, and taught it many truths:
And I have echoed some to thee, in weakness, yet sincerely:
Yea, though ignorance and error shall have marred those lessons of His teaching,
I stand in mine own Master's praise, or fall to His reproof.
If thou lovest, help me with thy blessing; if otherwise, mine shall be for thee;
If thou approvest, heed my words; if otherwise, in kindness be my teacher.
Many mingled thoughts for self have warped my better aim;
Many motives tempted still, to toil for pride or praise:
Alas, I have loved pride and praise, like others worse or worthier;
But hate and fear them now, as snakes that fastened on my hand:
Scævola burnt both hand and crime; but Paul flung the viper on the fire:
He shook it off, and felt no harm: so be it! I renounce them.
Rebuke then, if thou wilt rebuke,—but neither hastily nor harshly;
Or, if thou wilt commend, be it honestly, of right: I work for God and good.
The End of the Second Series
The End of the Second Series
The End of the Second Series
BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
Transcriber's Note.Apparent typographical errors have been corrected.Hyphenation has been made consistent.
Transcriber's Note.
Apparent typographical errors have been corrected.
Hyphenation has been made consistent.