Part II.But what in either sex, beyondAll parts, our glory crowns?"In ruffling seasons to be calm,And smile, when fortune frowns."Heaven's choice is safer than our own;Of ages past inquire,What the most formidable fate?"To have our own desire."If, in your wrath, the worst of foesYou wish extremely ill;[pg 266]Expose him to the thunder's stroke,Or that of his own will.What numbers, rushing down the steepOf inclination strong,Have perish'd in their ardent wish!Wish ardent, ever wrong!'Tis resignation's full reverse,Most wrong, as it impliesError most fatal in our choice,Detachment from the skies.By closing with the skies, we makeOmnipotence our own;That done, how formidable ill'sWhole army is o'erthrown!No longer impotent, and frail,Ourselves above we rise:We scarce believe ourselves below!We trespass on the skies!The Lord, the soul, and source of all,Whilst man enjoys his ease,Is executing human will,In earth, and air, and seas;Beyond us, what can angels boast?Archangels what require?[pg 267]Whate'er below, above, is done,Is done as——we desire.What glory this for man so mean,Whose life is but a span!This is meridian majesty!This, the sublime of man!Beyond the boast of pagan songMy sacred subject shines!And for a foil the lustre takesOf Rome's exalted lines."All, that the sun surveys, subdued,But Cato's mighty mind."How grand! most true; yet far beneathThe soul of the resign'd:To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,To passion that gives law;Its matchless empire could have keptGreat Cato's pride in awe;That fatal pride, whose cruel pointTransfix'd his noble breast;Far nobler! if his fate sustain'dAnd left to heaven the rest;Then he the palm had borne away,At distance Cæsar thrown;[pg 268]Put him off cheaply with the world,And made the skies his own.What cannot resignation do?It wonders can perform;That powerful charm, "Thy will be done,"Can lay the loudest storm.Come, resignation! then, from fields,Where, mounted on the wing,A wing of flame, blest martyrs' soulsAscended to their king.Who is it calls thee? one whose needTranscends the common size;Who stands in front against a foeTo which no equal rise:In front he stands, the brink he treadsOf an eternal state;How dreadful his appointed post!How strongly arm'd by fate:His threatening foe! what shadows deepO'erwhelm his gloomy brow!His dart tremendous!——at fourscoreMy sole asylum, thou!Haste, then, O resignation! haste,'Tis thine to reconcile[pg 269]My foe, and me; at thy approachMy foe begins to smile:O! for that summit of my wish,Whilst here I draw my breath,That promise of eternal life,A glorious smile in death:What sight, heaven's azure arch beneath,Has most of heaven to boast?The man resign'd; at once serene,And giving up the ghost.At death's arrival they shall smile,Who, not in life o'er gay,Serious and frequent thought send outTo meet him on his way:My gay coevals! (such there are)If happiness is dear;Approaching death's alarming dayDiscreetly let us fear:The fear of death is truly wise,Till wisdom can rise higher;And, arm'd with pious fortitude,Death dreaded once, desire:Grand climacteric vanitiesThe vainest will despise;[pg 270]Shock'd, when beneath the snow of ageMan immaturely dies:But am not I myself the man?No need abroad to roamIn quest of faults to be chastis'd;What cause to blush at home?In life's decline, when men relapseInto the sports of youth,The second child out-fools the first,And tempts the lash of truth;Shall a mere truant from the graveWith rival boys engage?His trembling voice attempt to sing,And ape the poet's rage?Here, madam! let me visit one,My fault who, partly, shares,And tell myself, by telling him,What more becomes our years;And if your breast with prudent zealFor resignation glows,You will not disapprove a justResentment at its foes.In youth, Voltaire! our foibles pleadFor some indulgence due;[pg 271]When heads are white, their thoughts and aimsShould change their colour too:How are you cheated by your wit!Old age is bound to pay,By nature's law, a mind discreet,For joys it takes away;A mighty change is wrought by years,Reversing human lot;In age 'tis honour to lie hid,'Tis praise to be forgot;The wise, as flowers, which spread at noon,And all their charms expose,When evening damps and shades descend,Their evolutions close.What though your muse has nobly soar'd,Is that our truth sublime?Ours, hoary friend! is to preferEternity to time:Why close a life so justly fam'dWith such bold trash as this?54This for renown? yes, such as makesObscurity a bliss:Your trash, with mine, at open war,Is obstinately bent,55[pg 272]Like wits below, to sow your taresOf gloom and discontent:With so much sunshine at command,Why light with darkness mix?Why dash with pain our pleasure?Your Helicon with Styx?Your works in our divided mindsRepugnant passions raise,Confound us with a double stroke,We shudder whilst we praise;A curious web, as finely wroughtAs genius can inspire,From a black bag of poison spun,With horror we admire.Mean as it is, if this is readWith a disdainful air,I can't forgive so great a foeTo my dear friend Voltaire:Early I knew him, early prais'd,And long to praise him late;His genius greatly I admire,Nor would deplore his fate;A fate how much to be deplor'd!At which our nature starts;[pg 273]Forbear to fall on your own sword.To perish by your parts:"But great your name"—To feed on air,Were then immortals born?Nothing is great, of which more great,More glorious is the scorn.Can fame your carcass from the wormWhich gnaws us in the grave,Or soul from that which never dies,Applauding Europe save?But fame you lose; good sense aloneYour idol, praise, can claim;When wild wit murders happiness,It puts to death our fame!Nor boast your genius, talents bright;E'en dunces will despise,If in your western beams is miss'dA genius for the skies;Your taste too fails; what most excelsTrue taste must relish most!And what, to rival palms above,Can proudest laurels boast?Sound heads salvation's helmet seek,56Resplendent are its rays,[pg 274]Let that suffice; it needs no plume,Of sublunary praise.May this enable couch'd VoltaireTo see that—"All is right,"57His eye, by flash of wit struck blind,Restoring to its sight;If so, all's well: who much have err'd,That much have been forgiven;I speak with joy, with joy he'll hear,"Voltaires are, now, in heaven."Nay, such philanthropy divine,So boundless in degree,Its marvellous of love extends(Stoops most profound!) to me:Let others cruel stars arraign,Or dwell on their distress;But let my page, for mercies pour'd,A grateful heart express:Walking, the present God was seen,Of old, in Eden fair;The God as present, by plain stepsOf providential care,I behold passing through my life;His awful voice I hear;[pg 275]And, conscious of my nakedness,Would hide myself for fear:But where the trees, or where the clouds,Can cover from his sight?Naked the centre to that eye,To which the sun is night.As yonder glittering lamps on highThrough night illumin'd roll;My thoughts of him, by whom they shine,Chase darkness from my soul;My soul, which reads his hand as clearIn my minute affairs,As in his ample manuscriptOf sun, and moon, and stars;And knows him not more bent arightTo wield that vast machine,Than to correct one erring thoughtIn my small world within;A world, that shall survive the fallOf all his wonders here;Survive, when suns ten thousand drop,And leave a darken'd sphere.Yon matter gross, how bright it shines!For time how great his care![pg 276]Sure spirit and eternityFar richer glories share;Let those our hearts impress, on thoseOur contemplation dwell;On those my thoughts how justly thrown,By what I now shall tell:When backward with attentive mindLife's labyrinth I trace,I find him far myself beyondPropitious to my peace:Through all the crooked paths I trod,My folly he pursued;My heart astray to quick returnImportunately woo'd;Due resignation home to pressOn my capricious will,How many rescues did I meet,Beneath the mask of ill!How many foes in ambush laidBeneath my soul's desire!The deepest penitents are madeBy what we most admire.Have I not sometimes (real goodSo little mortals know!)[pg 277]Mounting the summit of my wish,Profoundly plung'd in woe?I rarely plann'd, but cause I foundMy plan's defeat to bless:Oft I lamented an event;It turn'd to my success.By sharpen'd appetite to giveTo good intense delight,Through dark and deep perplexitiesHe led me to the right.And is not this the gloomy path,Which you are treading now?The path most gloomy leads to light,When our proud passions bow:When labouring under fancied ill,My spirits to sustain,He kindly cur'd with sovereign draughtsOf unimagin'd pain.Pain'd sense from fancied tyrannyAlone can set us free;A thousand miseries we feel,Till sunk in misery.Cloy'd with a glut of all we wish,Our wish we relish less;[pg 278]Success, a sort of suicide,Is ruin'd by success:Sometimes he led me near to death,And, pointing to the grave,Bid terror whisper kind advice;And taught the tomb to save:To raise my thoughts beyond where worldsAs spangles o'er us shine,One day he gave, and bid the nextMy soul's delight resign.We to ourselves, but through the meansOf mirrors, are unknown;In this my fate can you descryNo features of your own?And if you can, let that excuseThese self-recording lines;A record, modesty forbids,Or to small bound confines:In grief why deep ingulf'd? You seeYou suffer nothing rare;Uncommon grief for common fate!That wisdom cannot bear.When streams flow backward to their source,And humbled flames descend,[pg 279]And mountains wing'd shall fly aloft,Then human sorrows end;But human prudence too must cease,When sorrows domineer,When fortitude has lost its fire,And freezes into fear:The pang most poignant of my lifeNow heightens my delight;I see a fair creation riseFrom chaos, and old night:From what seem'd horror, and despair,The richest harvest rose;And gave me in the nod divineAn absolute repose.Of all the plunders of mankind,More gross, or frequent, none,Than in their grief and joy misplac'd,Eternally are shown.But whither points all this parade?It says, that near you liesA book, perhaps yet unperus'd,Which you should greatly prize:Of self-perusal, science rare!Few know the mighty gain;[pg 280]Learn'd prelates, self-unread, may readTheir Bibles o'er in vain:Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself(So sages tell us) came,What is it, but a daughter fairOf my maternal theme?Unletter'd and untravel'd menAn oracle might find,Would they consult their own contents,The Delphos of the mind.Enter your bosom; there you'll meetA revelation new,A revelation personal;Which none can read but you.
Part II.But what in either sex, beyondAll parts, our glory crowns?"In ruffling seasons to be calm,And smile, when fortune frowns."Heaven's choice is safer than our own;Of ages past inquire,What the most formidable fate?"To have our own desire."If, in your wrath, the worst of foesYou wish extremely ill;[pg 266]Expose him to the thunder's stroke,Or that of his own will.What numbers, rushing down the steepOf inclination strong,Have perish'd in their ardent wish!Wish ardent, ever wrong!'Tis resignation's full reverse,Most wrong, as it impliesError most fatal in our choice,Detachment from the skies.By closing with the skies, we makeOmnipotence our own;That done, how formidable ill'sWhole army is o'erthrown!No longer impotent, and frail,Ourselves above we rise:We scarce believe ourselves below!We trespass on the skies!The Lord, the soul, and source of all,Whilst man enjoys his ease,Is executing human will,In earth, and air, and seas;Beyond us, what can angels boast?Archangels what require?[pg 267]Whate'er below, above, is done,Is done as——we desire.What glory this for man so mean,Whose life is but a span!This is meridian majesty!This, the sublime of man!Beyond the boast of pagan songMy sacred subject shines!And for a foil the lustre takesOf Rome's exalted lines."All, that the sun surveys, subdued,But Cato's mighty mind."How grand! most true; yet far beneathThe soul of the resign'd:To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,To passion that gives law;Its matchless empire could have keptGreat Cato's pride in awe;That fatal pride, whose cruel pointTransfix'd his noble breast;Far nobler! if his fate sustain'dAnd left to heaven the rest;Then he the palm had borne away,At distance Cæsar thrown;[pg 268]Put him off cheaply with the world,And made the skies his own.What cannot resignation do?It wonders can perform;That powerful charm, "Thy will be done,"Can lay the loudest storm.Come, resignation! then, from fields,Where, mounted on the wing,A wing of flame, blest martyrs' soulsAscended to their king.Who is it calls thee? one whose needTranscends the common size;Who stands in front against a foeTo which no equal rise:In front he stands, the brink he treadsOf an eternal state;How dreadful his appointed post!How strongly arm'd by fate:His threatening foe! what shadows deepO'erwhelm his gloomy brow!His dart tremendous!——at fourscoreMy sole asylum, thou!Haste, then, O resignation! haste,'Tis thine to reconcile[pg 269]My foe, and me; at thy approachMy foe begins to smile:O! for that summit of my wish,Whilst here I draw my breath,That promise of eternal life,A glorious smile in death:What sight, heaven's azure arch beneath,Has most of heaven to boast?The man resign'd; at once serene,And giving up the ghost.At death's arrival they shall smile,Who, not in life o'er gay,Serious and frequent thought send outTo meet him on his way:My gay coevals! (such there are)If happiness is dear;Approaching death's alarming dayDiscreetly let us fear:The fear of death is truly wise,Till wisdom can rise higher;And, arm'd with pious fortitude,Death dreaded once, desire:Grand climacteric vanitiesThe vainest will despise;[pg 270]Shock'd, when beneath the snow of ageMan immaturely dies:But am not I myself the man?No need abroad to roamIn quest of faults to be chastis'd;What cause to blush at home?In life's decline, when men relapseInto the sports of youth,The second child out-fools the first,And tempts the lash of truth;Shall a mere truant from the graveWith rival boys engage?His trembling voice attempt to sing,And ape the poet's rage?Here, madam! let me visit one,My fault who, partly, shares,And tell myself, by telling him,What more becomes our years;And if your breast with prudent zealFor resignation glows,You will not disapprove a justResentment at its foes.In youth, Voltaire! our foibles pleadFor some indulgence due;[pg 271]When heads are white, their thoughts and aimsShould change their colour too:How are you cheated by your wit!Old age is bound to pay,By nature's law, a mind discreet,For joys it takes away;A mighty change is wrought by years,Reversing human lot;In age 'tis honour to lie hid,'Tis praise to be forgot;The wise, as flowers, which spread at noon,And all their charms expose,When evening damps and shades descend,Their evolutions close.What though your muse has nobly soar'd,Is that our truth sublime?Ours, hoary friend! is to preferEternity to time:Why close a life so justly fam'dWith such bold trash as this?54This for renown? yes, such as makesObscurity a bliss:Your trash, with mine, at open war,Is obstinately bent,55[pg 272]Like wits below, to sow your taresOf gloom and discontent:With so much sunshine at command,Why light with darkness mix?Why dash with pain our pleasure?Your Helicon with Styx?Your works in our divided mindsRepugnant passions raise,Confound us with a double stroke,We shudder whilst we praise;A curious web, as finely wroughtAs genius can inspire,From a black bag of poison spun,With horror we admire.Mean as it is, if this is readWith a disdainful air,I can't forgive so great a foeTo my dear friend Voltaire:Early I knew him, early prais'd,And long to praise him late;His genius greatly I admire,Nor would deplore his fate;A fate how much to be deplor'd!At which our nature starts;[pg 273]Forbear to fall on your own sword.To perish by your parts:"But great your name"—To feed on air,Were then immortals born?Nothing is great, of which more great,More glorious is the scorn.Can fame your carcass from the wormWhich gnaws us in the grave,Or soul from that which never dies,Applauding Europe save?But fame you lose; good sense aloneYour idol, praise, can claim;When wild wit murders happiness,It puts to death our fame!Nor boast your genius, talents bright;E'en dunces will despise,If in your western beams is miss'dA genius for the skies;Your taste too fails; what most excelsTrue taste must relish most!And what, to rival palms above,Can proudest laurels boast?Sound heads salvation's helmet seek,56Resplendent are its rays,[pg 274]Let that suffice; it needs no plume,Of sublunary praise.May this enable couch'd VoltaireTo see that—"All is right,"57His eye, by flash of wit struck blind,Restoring to its sight;If so, all's well: who much have err'd,That much have been forgiven;I speak with joy, with joy he'll hear,"Voltaires are, now, in heaven."Nay, such philanthropy divine,So boundless in degree,Its marvellous of love extends(Stoops most profound!) to me:Let others cruel stars arraign,Or dwell on their distress;But let my page, for mercies pour'd,A grateful heart express:Walking, the present God was seen,Of old, in Eden fair;The God as present, by plain stepsOf providential care,I behold passing through my life;His awful voice I hear;[pg 275]And, conscious of my nakedness,Would hide myself for fear:But where the trees, or where the clouds,Can cover from his sight?Naked the centre to that eye,To which the sun is night.As yonder glittering lamps on highThrough night illumin'd roll;My thoughts of him, by whom they shine,Chase darkness from my soul;My soul, which reads his hand as clearIn my minute affairs,As in his ample manuscriptOf sun, and moon, and stars;And knows him not more bent arightTo wield that vast machine,Than to correct one erring thoughtIn my small world within;A world, that shall survive the fallOf all his wonders here;Survive, when suns ten thousand drop,And leave a darken'd sphere.Yon matter gross, how bright it shines!For time how great his care![pg 276]Sure spirit and eternityFar richer glories share;Let those our hearts impress, on thoseOur contemplation dwell;On those my thoughts how justly thrown,By what I now shall tell:When backward with attentive mindLife's labyrinth I trace,I find him far myself beyondPropitious to my peace:Through all the crooked paths I trod,My folly he pursued;My heart astray to quick returnImportunately woo'd;Due resignation home to pressOn my capricious will,How many rescues did I meet,Beneath the mask of ill!How many foes in ambush laidBeneath my soul's desire!The deepest penitents are madeBy what we most admire.Have I not sometimes (real goodSo little mortals know!)[pg 277]Mounting the summit of my wish,Profoundly plung'd in woe?I rarely plann'd, but cause I foundMy plan's defeat to bless:Oft I lamented an event;It turn'd to my success.By sharpen'd appetite to giveTo good intense delight,Through dark and deep perplexitiesHe led me to the right.And is not this the gloomy path,Which you are treading now?The path most gloomy leads to light,When our proud passions bow:When labouring under fancied ill,My spirits to sustain,He kindly cur'd with sovereign draughtsOf unimagin'd pain.Pain'd sense from fancied tyrannyAlone can set us free;A thousand miseries we feel,Till sunk in misery.Cloy'd with a glut of all we wish,Our wish we relish less;[pg 278]Success, a sort of suicide,Is ruin'd by success:Sometimes he led me near to death,And, pointing to the grave,Bid terror whisper kind advice;And taught the tomb to save:To raise my thoughts beyond where worldsAs spangles o'er us shine,One day he gave, and bid the nextMy soul's delight resign.We to ourselves, but through the meansOf mirrors, are unknown;In this my fate can you descryNo features of your own?And if you can, let that excuseThese self-recording lines;A record, modesty forbids,Or to small bound confines:In grief why deep ingulf'd? You seeYou suffer nothing rare;Uncommon grief for common fate!That wisdom cannot bear.When streams flow backward to their source,And humbled flames descend,[pg 279]And mountains wing'd shall fly aloft,Then human sorrows end;But human prudence too must cease,When sorrows domineer,When fortitude has lost its fire,And freezes into fear:The pang most poignant of my lifeNow heightens my delight;I see a fair creation riseFrom chaos, and old night:From what seem'd horror, and despair,The richest harvest rose;And gave me in the nod divineAn absolute repose.Of all the plunders of mankind,More gross, or frequent, none,Than in their grief and joy misplac'd,Eternally are shown.But whither points all this parade?It says, that near you liesA book, perhaps yet unperus'd,Which you should greatly prize:Of self-perusal, science rare!Few know the mighty gain;[pg 280]Learn'd prelates, self-unread, may readTheir Bibles o'er in vain:Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself(So sages tell us) came,What is it, but a daughter fairOf my maternal theme?Unletter'd and untravel'd menAn oracle might find,Would they consult their own contents,The Delphos of the mind.Enter your bosom; there you'll meetA revelation new,A revelation personal;Which none can read but you.
Part II.But what in either sex, beyondAll parts, our glory crowns?"In ruffling seasons to be calm,And smile, when fortune frowns."Heaven's choice is safer than our own;Of ages past inquire,What the most formidable fate?"To have our own desire."If, in your wrath, the worst of foesYou wish extremely ill;[pg 266]Expose him to the thunder's stroke,Or that of his own will.What numbers, rushing down the steepOf inclination strong,Have perish'd in their ardent wish!Wish ardent, ever wrong!'Tis resignation's full reverse,Most wrong, as it impliesError most fatal in our choice,Detachment from the skies.By closing with the skies, we makeOmnipotence our own;That done, how formidable ill'sWhole army is o'erthrown!No longer impotent, and frail,Ourselves above we rise:We scarce believe ourselves below!We trespass on the skies!The Lord, the soul, and source of all,Whilst man enjoys his ease,Is executing human will,In earth, and air, and seas;Beyond us, what can angels boast?Archangels what require?[pg 267]Whate'er below, above, is done,Is done as——we desire.What glory this for man so mean,Whose life is but a span!This is meridian majesty!This, the sublime of man!Beyond the boast of pagan songMy sacred subject shines!And for a foil the lustre takesOf Rome's exalted lines."All, that the sun surveys, subdued,But Cato's mighty mind."How grand! most true; yet far beneathThe soul of the resign'd:To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,To passion that gives law;Its matchless empire could have keptGreat Cato's pride in awe;That fatal pride, whose cruel pointTransfix'd his noble breast;Far nobler! if his fate sustain'dAnd left to heaven the rest;Then he the palm had borne away,At distance Cæsar thrown;[pg 268]Put him off cheaply with the world,And made the skies his own.What cannot resignation do?It wonders can perform;That powerful charm, "Thy will be done,"Can lay the loudest storm.Come, resignation! then, from fields,Where, mounted on the wing,A wing of flame, blest martyrs' soulsAscended to their king.Who is it calls thee? one whose needTranscends the common size;Who stands in front against a foeTo which no equal rise:In front he stands, the brink he treadsOf an eternal state;How dreadful his appointed post!How strongly arm'd by fate:His threatening foe! what shadows deepO'erwhelm his gloomy brow!His dart tremendous!——at fourscoreMy sole asylum, thou!Haste, then, O resignation! haste,'Tis thine to reconcile[pg 269]My foe, and me; at thy approachMy foe begins to smile:O! for that summit of my wish,Whilst here I draw my breath,That promise of eternal life,A glorious smile in death:What sight, heaven's azure arch beneath,Has most of heaven to boast?The man resign'd; at once serene,And giving up the ghost.At death's arrival they shall smile,Who, not in life o'er gay,Serious and frequent thought send outTo meet him on his way:My gay coevals! (such there are)If happiness is dear;Approaching death's alarming dayDiscreetly let us fear:The fear of death is truly wise,Till wisdom can rise higher;And, arm'd with pious fortitude,Death dreaded once, desire:Grand climacteric vanitiesThe vainest will despise;[pg 270]Shock'd, when beneath the snow of ageMan immaturely dies:But am not I myself the man?No need abroad to roamIn quest of faults to be chastis'd;What cause to blush at home?In life's decline, when men relapseInto the sports of youth,The second child out-fools the first,And tempts the lash of truth;Shall a mere truant from the graveWith rival boys engage?His trembling voice attempt to sing,And ape the poet's rage?Here, madam! let me visit one,My fault who, partly, shares,And tell myself, by telling him,What more becomes our years;And if your breast with prudent zealFor resignation glows,You will not disapprove a justResentment at its foes.In youth, Voltaire! our foibles pleadFor some indulgence due;[pg 271]When heads are white, their thoughts and aimsShould change their colour too:How are you cheated by your wit!Old age is bound to pay,By nature's law, a mind discreet,For joys it takes away;A mighty change is wrought by years,Reversing human lot;In age 'tis honour to lie hid,'Tis praise to be forgot;The wise, as flowers, which spread at noon,And all their charms expose,When evening damps and shades descend,Their evolutions close.What though your muse has nobly soar'd,Is that our truth sublime?Ours, hoary friend! is to preferEternity to time:Why close a life so justly fam'dWith such bold trash as this?54This for renown? yes, such as makesObscurity a bliss:Your trash, with mine, at open war,Is obstinately bent,55[pg 272]Like wits below, to sow your taresOf gloom and discontent:With so much sunshine at command,Why light with darkness mix?Why dash with pain our pleasure?Your Helicon with Styx?Your works in our divided mindsRepugnant passions raise,Confound us with a double stroke,We shudder whilst we praise;A curious web, as finely wroughtAs genius can inspire,From a black bag of poison spun,With horror we admire.Mean as it is, if this is readWith a disdainful air,I can't forgive so great a foeTo my dear friend Voltaire:Early I knew him, early prais'd,And long to praise him late;His genius greatly I admire,Nor would deplore his fate;A fate how much to be deplor'd!At which our nature starts;[pg 273]Forbear to fall on your own sword.To perish by your parts:"But great your name"—To feed on air,Were then immortals born?Nothing is great, of which more great,More glorious is the scorn.Can fame your carcass from the wormWhich gnaws us in the grave,Or soul from that which never dies,Applauding Europe save?But fame you lose; good sense aloneYour idol, praise, can claim;When wild wit murders happiness,It puts to death our fame!Nor boast your genius, talents bright;E'en dunces will despise,If in your western beams is miss'dA genius for the skies;Your taste too fails; what most excelsTrue taste must relish most!And what, to rival palms above,Can proudest laurels boast?Sound heads salvation's helmet seek,56Resplendent are its rays,[pg 274]Let that suffice; it needs no plume,Of sublunary praise.May this enable couch'd VoltaireTo see that—"All is right,"57His eye, by flash of wit struck blind,Restoring to its sight;If so, all's well: who much have err'd,That much have been forgiven;I speak with joy, with joy he'll hear,"Voltaires are, now, in heaven."Nay, such philanthropy divine,So boundless in degree,Its marvellous of love extends(Stoops most profound!) to me:Let others cruel stars arraign,Or dwell on their distress;But let my page, for mercies pour'd,A grateful heart express:Walking, the present God was seen,Of old, in Eden fair;The God as present, by plain stepsOf providential care,I behold passing through my life;His awful voice I hear;[pg 275]And, conscious of my nakedness,Would hide myself for fear:But where the trees, or where the clouds,Can cover from his sight?Naked the centre to that eye,To which the sun is night.As yonder glittering lamps on highThrough night illumin'd roll;My thoughts of him, by whom they shine,Chase darkness from my soul;My soul, which reads his hand as clearIn my minute affairs,As in his ample manuscriptOf sun, and moon, and stars;And knows him not more bent arightTo wield that vast machine,Than to correct one erring thoughtIn my small world within;A world, that shall survive the fallOf all his wonders here;Survive, when suns ten thousand drop,And leave a darken'd sphere.Yon matter gross, how bright it shines!For time how great his care![pg 276]Sure spirit and eternityFar richer glories share;Let those our hearts impress, on thoseOur contemplation dwell;On those my thoughts how justly thrown,By what I now shall tell:When backward with attentive mindLife's labyrinth I trace,I find him far myself beyondPropitious to my peace:Through all the crooked paths I trod,My folly he pursued;My heart astray to quick returnImportunately woo'd;Due resignation home to pressOn my capricious will,How many rescues did I meet,Beneath the mask of ill!How many foes in ambush laidBeneath my soul's desire!The deepest penitents are madeBy what we most admire.Have I not sometimes (real goodSo little mortals know!)[pg 277]Mounting the summit of my wish,Profoundly plung'd in woe?I rarely plann'd, but cause I foundMy plan's defeat to bless:Oft I lamented an event;It turn'd to my success.By sharpen'd appetite to giveTo good intense delight,Through dark and deep perplexitiesHe led me to the right.And is not this the gloomy path,Which you are treading now?The path most gloomy leads to light,When our proud passions bow:When labouring under fancied ill,My spirits to sustain,He kindly cur'd with sovereign draughtsOf unimagin'd pain.Pain'd sense from fancied tyrannyAlone can set us free;A thousand miseries we feel,Till sunk in misery.Cloy'd with a glut of all we wish,Our wish we relish less;[pg 278]Success, a sort of suicide,Is ruin'd by success:Sometimes he led me near to death,And, pointing to the grave,Bid terror whisper kind advice;And taught the tomb to save:To raise my thoughts beyond where worldsAs spangles o'er us shine,One day he gave, and bid the nextMy soul's delight resign.We to ourselves, but through the meansOf mirrors, are unknown;In this my fate can you descryNo features of your own?And if you can, let that excuseThese self-recording lines;A record, modesty forbids,Or to small bound confines:In grief why deep ingulf'd? You seeYou suffer nothing rare;Uncommon grief for common fate!That wisdom cannot bear.When streams flow backward to their source,And humbled flames descend,[pg 279]And mountains wing'd shall fly aloft,Then human sorrows end;But human prudence too must cease,When sorrows domineer,When fortitude has lost its fire,And freezes into fear:The pang most poignant of my lifeNow heightens my delight;I see a fair creation riseFrom chaos, and old night:From what seem'd horror, and despair,The richest harvest rose;And gave me in the nod divineAn absolute repose.Of all the plunders of mankind,More gross, or frequent, none,Than in their grief and joy misplac'd,Eternally are shown.But whither points all this parade?It says, that near you liesA book, perhaps yet unperus'd,Which you should greatly prize:Of self-perusal, science rare!Few know the mighty gain;[pg 280]Learn'd prelates, self-unread, may readTheir Bibles o'er in vain:Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself(So sages tell us) came,What is it, but a daughter fairOf my maternal theme?Unletter'd and untravel'd menAn oracle might find,Would they consult their own contents,The Delphos of the mind.Enter your bosom; there you'll meetA revelation new,A revelation personal;Which none can read but you.
Part II.But what in either sex, beyondAll parts, our glory crowns?"In ruffling seasons to be calm,And smile, when fortune frowns."Heaven's choice is safer than our own;Of ages past inquire,What the most formidable fate?"To have our own desire."If, in your wrath, the worst of foesYou wish extremely ill;[pg 266]Expose him to the thunder's stroke,Or that of his own will.What numbers, rushing down the steepOf inclination strong,Have perish'd in their ardent wish!Wish ardent, ever wrong!'Tis resignation's full reverse,Most wrong, as it impliesError most fatal in our choice,Detachment from the skies.By closing with the skies, we makeOmnipotence our own;That done, how formidable ill'sWhole army is o'erthrown!No longer impotent, and frail,Ourselves above we rise:We scarce believe ourselves below!We trespass on the skies!The Lord, the soul, and source of all,Whilst man enjoys his ease,Is executing human will,In earth, and air, and seas;Beyond us, what can angels boast?Archangels what require?[pg 267]Whate'er below, above, is done,Is done as——we desire.What glory this for man so mean,Whose life is but a span!This is meridian majesty!This, the sublime of man!Beyond the boast of pagan songMy sacred subject shines!And for a foil the lustre takesOf Rome's exalted lines."All, that the sun surveys, subdued,But Cato's mighty mind."How grand! most true; yet far beneathThe soul of the resign'd:To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,To passion that gives law;Its matchless empire could have keptGreat Cato's pride in awe;That fatal pride, whose cruel pointTransfix'd his noble breast;Far nobler! if his fate sustain'dAnd left to heaven the rest;Then he the palm had borne away,At distance Cæsar thrown;[pg 268]Put him off cheaply with the world,And made the skies his own.What cannot resignation do?It wonders can perform;That powerful charm, "Thy will be done,"Can lay the loudest storm.Come, resignation! then, from fields,Where, mounted on the wing,A wing of flame, blest martyrs' soulsAscended to their king.Who is it calls thee? one whose needTranscends the common size;Who stands in front against a foeTo which no equal rise:In front he stands, the brink he treadsOf an eternal state;How dreadful his appointed post!How strongly arm'd by fate:His threatening foe! what shadows deepO'erwhelm his gloomy brow!His dart tremendous!——at fourscoreMy sole asylum, thou!Haste, then, O resignation! haste,'Tis thine to reconcile[pg 269]My foe, and me; at thy approachMy foe begins to smile:O! for that summit of my wish,Whilst here I draw my breath,That promise of eternal life,A glorious smile in death:What sight, heaven's azure arch beneath,Has most of heaven to boast?The man resign'd; at once serene,And giving up the ghost.At death's arrival they shall smile,Who, not in life o'er gay,Serious and frequent thought send outTo meet him on his way:My gay coevals! (such there are)If happiness is dear;Approaching death's alarming dayDiscreetly let us fear:The fear of death is truly wise,Till wisdom can rise higher;And, arm'd with pious fortitude,Death dreaded once, desire:Grand climacteric vanitiesThe vainest will despise;[pg 270]Shock'd, when beneath the snow of ageMan immaturely dies:But am not I myself the man?No need abroad to roamIn quest of faults to be chastis'd;What cause to blush at home?In life's decline, when men relapseInto the sports of youth,The second child out-fools the first,And tempts the lash of truth;Shall a mere truant from the graveWith rival boys engage?His trembling voice attempt to sing,And ape the poet's rage?Here, madam! let me visit one,My fault who, partly, shares,And tell myself, by telling him,What more becomes our years;And if your breast with prudent zealFor resignation glows,You will not disapprove a justResentment at its foes.In youth, Voltaire! our foibles pleadFor some indulgence due;[pg 271]When heads are white, their thoughts and aimsShould change their colour too:How are you cheated by your wit!Old age is bound to pay,By nature's law, a mind discreet,For joys it takes away;A mighty change is wrought by years,Reversing human lot;In age 'tis honour to lie hid,'Tis praise to be forgot;The wise, as flowers, which spread at noon,And all their charms expose,When evening damps and shades descend,Their evolutions close.What though your muse has nobly soar'd,Is that our truth sublime?Ours, hoary friend! is to preferEternity to time:Why close a life so justly fam'dWith such bold trash as this?54This for renown? yes, such as makesObscurity a bliss:Your trash, with mine, at open war,Is obstinately bent,55[pg 272]Like wits below, to sow your taresOf gloom and discontent:With so much sunshine at command,Why light with darkness mix?Why dash with pain our pleasure?Your Helicon with Styx?Your works in our divided mindsRepugnant passions raise,Confound us with a double stroke,We shudder whilst we praise;A curious web, as finely wroughtAs genius can inspire,From a black bag of poison spun,With horror we admire.Mean as it is, if this is readWith a disdainful air,I can't forgive so great a foeTo my dear friend Voltaire:Early I knew him, early prais'd,And long to praise him late;His genius greatly I admire,Nor would deplore his fate;A fate how much to be deplor'd!At which our nature starts;[pg 273]Forbear to fall on your own sword.To perish by your parts:"But great your name"—To feed on air,Were then immortals born?Nothing is great, of which more great,More glorious is the scorn.Can fame your carcass from the wormWhich gnaws us in the grave,Or soul from that which never dies,Applauding Europe save?But fame you lose; good sense aloneYour idol, praise, can claim;When wild wit murders happiness,It puts to death our fame!Nor boast your genius, talents bright;E'en dunces will despise,If in your western beams is miss'dA genius for the skies;Your taste too fails; what most excelsTrue taste must relish most!And what, to rival palms above,Can proudest laurels boast?Sound heads salvation's helmet seek,56Resplendent are its rays,[pg 274]Let that suffice; it needs no plume,Of sublunary praise.May this enable couch'd VoltaireTo see that—"All is right,"57His eye, by flash of wit struck blind,Restoring to its sight;If so, all's well: who much have err'd,That much have been forgiven;I speak with joy, with joy he'll hear,"Voltaires are, now, in heaven."Nay, such philanthropy divine,So boundless in degree,Its marvellous of love extends(Stoops most profound!) to me:Let others cruel stars arraign,Or dwell on their distress;But let my page, for mercies pour'd,A grateful heart express:Walking, the present God was seen,Of old, in Eden fair;The God as present, by plain stepsOf providential care,I behold passing through my life;His awful voice I hear;[pg 275]And, conscious of my nakedness,Would hide myself for fear:But where the trees, or where the clouds,Can cover from his sight?Naked the centre to that eye,To which the sun is night.As yonder glittering lamps on highThrough night illumin'd roll;My thoughts of him, by whom they shine,Chase darkness from my soul;My soul, which reads his hand as clearIn my minute affairs,As in his ample manuscriptOf sun, and moon, and stars;And knows him not more bent arightTo wield that vast machine,Than to correct one erring thoughtIn my small world within;A world, that shall survive the fallOf all his wonders here;Survive, when suns ten thousand drop,And leave a darken'd sphere.Yon matter gross, how bright it shines!For time how great his care![pg 276]Sure spirit and eternityFar richer glories share;Let those our hearts impress, on thoseOur contemplation dwell;On those my thoughts how justly thrown,By what I now shall tell:When backward with attentive mindLife's labyrinth I trace,I find him far myself beyondPropitious to my peace:Through all the crooked paths I trod,My folly he pursued;My heart astray to quick returnImportunately woo'd;Due resignation home to pressOn my capricious will,How many rescues did I meet,Beneath the mask of ill!How many foes in ambush laidBeneath my soul's desire!The deepest penitents are madeBy what we most admire.Have I not sometimes (real goodSo little mortals know!)[pg 277]Mounting the summit of my wish,Profoundly plung'd in woe?I rarely plann'd, but cause I foundMy plan's defeat to bless:Oft I lamented an event;It turn'd to my success.By sharpen'd appetite to giveTo good intense delight,Through dark and deep perplexitiesHe led me to the right.And is not this the gloomy path,Which you are treading now?The path most gloomy leads to light,When our proud passions bow:When labouring under fancied ill,My spirits to sustain,He kindly cur'd with sovereign draughtsOf unimagin'd pain.Pain'd sense from fancied tyrannyAlone can set us free;A thousand miseries we feel,Till sunk in misery.Cloy'd with a glut of all we wish,Our wish we relish less;[pg 278]Success, a sort of suicide,Is ruin'd by success:Sometimes he led me near to death,And, pointing to the grave,Bid terror whisper kind advice;And taught the tomb to save:To raise my thoughts beyond where worldsAs spangles o'er us shine,One day he gave, and bid the nextMy soul's delight resign.We to ourselves, but through the meansOf mirrors, are unknown;In this my fate can you descryNo features of your own?And if you can, let that excuseThese self-recording lines;A record, modesty forbids,Or to small bound confines:In grief why deep ingulf'd? You seeYou suffer nothing rare;Uncommon grief for common fate!That wisdom cannot bear.When streams flow backward to their source,And humbled flames descend,[pg 279]And mountains wing'd shall fly aloft,Then human sorrows end;But human prudence too must cease,When sorrows domineer,When fortitude has lost its fire,And freezes into fear:The pang most poignant of my lifeNow heightens my delight;I see a fair creation riseFrom chaos, and old night:From what seem'd horror, and despair,The richest harvest rose;And gave me in the nod divineAn absolute repose.Of all the plunders of mankind,More gross, or frequent, none,Than in their grief and joy misplac'd,Eternally are shown.But whither points all this parade?It says, that near you liesA book, perhaps yet unperus'd,Which you should greatly prize:Of self-perusal, science rare!Few know the mighty gain;[pg 280]Learn'd prelates, self-unread, may readTheir Bibles o'er in vain:Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself(So sages tell us) came,What is it, but a daughter fairOf my maternal theme?Unletter'd and untravel'd menAn oracle might find,Would they consult their own contents,The Delphos of the mind.Enter your bosom; there you'll meetA revelation new,A revelation personal;Which none can read but you.
But what in either sex, beyondAll parts, our glory crowns?"In ruffling seasons to be calm,And smile, when fortune frowns."
But what in either sex, beyond
All parts, our glory crowns?
"In ruffling seasons to be calm,
And smile, when fortune frowns."
Heaven's choice is safer than our own;Of ages past inquire,What the most formidable fate?"To have our own desire."
Heaven's choice is safer than our own;
Of ages past inquire,
What the most formidable fate?
"To have our own desire."
If, in your wrath, the worst of foesYou wish extremely ill;[pg 266]Expose him to the thunder's stroke,Or that of his own will.
If, in your wrath, the worst of foes
You wish extremely ill;
Expose him to the thunder's stroke,
Or that of his own will.
What numbers, rushing down the steepOf inclination strong,Have perish'd in their ardent wish!Wish ardent, ever wrong!
What numbers, rushing down the steep
Of inclination strong,
Have perish'd in their ardent wish!
Wish ardent, ever wrong!
'Tis resignation's full reverse,Most wrong, as it impliesError most fatal in our choice,Detachment from the skies.
'Tis resignation's full reverse,
Most wrong, as it implies
Error most fatal in our choice,
Detachment from the skies.
By closing with the skies, we makeOmnipotence our own;That done, how formidable ill'sWhole army is o'erthrown!
By closing with the skies, we make
Omnipotence our own;
That done, how formidable ill's
Whole army is o'erthrown!
No longer impotent, and frail,Ourselves above we rise:We scarce believe ourselves below!We trespass on the skies!
No longer impotent, and frail,
Ourselves above we rise:
We scarce believe ourselves below!
We trespass on the skies!
The Lord, the soul, and source of all,Whilst man enjoys his ease,Is executing human will,In earth, and air, and seas;
The Lord, the soul, and source of all,
Whilst man enjoys his ease,
Is executing human will,
In earth, and air, and seas;
Beyond us, what can angels boast?Archangels what require?[pg 267]Whate'er below, above, is done,Is done as——we desire.
Beyond us, what can angels boast?
Archangels what require?
Whate'er below, above, is done,
Is done as——we desire.
What glory this for man so mean,Whose life is but a span!This is meridian majesty!This, the sublime of man!
What glory this for man so mean,
Whose life is but a span!
This is meridian majesty!
This, the sublime of man!
Beyond the boast of pagan songMy sacred subject shines!And for a foil the lustre takesOf Rome's exalted lines.
Beyond the boast of pagan song
My sacred subject shines!
And for a foil the lustre takes
Of Rome's exalted lines.
"All, that the sun surveys, subdued,But Cato's mighty mind."How grand! most true; yet far beneathThe soul of the resign'd:
"All, that the sun surveys, subdued,
But Cato's mighty mind."
How grand! most true; yet far beneath
The soul of the resign'd:
To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,To passion that gives law;Its matchless empire could have keptGreat Cato's pride in awe;
To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,
To passion that gives law;
Its matchless empire could have kept
Great Cato's pride in awe;
That fatal pride, whose cruel pointTransfix'd his noble breast;Far nobler! if his fate sustain'dAnd left to heaven the rest;
That fatal pride, whose cruel point
Transfix'd his noble breast;
Far nobler! if his fate sustain'd
And left to heaven the rest;
Then he the palm had borne away,At distance Cæsar thrown;[pg 268]Put him off cheaply with the world,And made the skies his own.
Then he the palm had borne away,
At distance Cæsar thrown;
Put him off cheaply with the world,
And made the skies his own.
What cannot resignation do?It wonders can perform;That powerful charm, "Thy will be done,"Can lay the loudest storm.
What cannot resignation do?
It wonders can perform;
That powerful charm, "Thy will be done,"
Can lay the loudest storm.
Come, resignation! then, from fields,Where, mounted on the wing,A wing of flame, blest martyrs' soulsAscended to their king.
Come, resignation! then, from fields,
Where, mounted on the wing,
A wing of flame, blest martyrs' souls
Ascended to their king.
Who is it calls thee? one whose needTranscends the common size;Who stands in front against a foeTo which no equal rise:
Who is it calls thee? one whose need
Transcends the common size;
Who stands in front against a foe
To which no equal rise:
In front he stands, the brink he treadsOf an eternal state;How dreadful his appointed post!How strongly arm'd by fate:
In front he stands, the brink he treads
Of an eternal state;
How dreadful his appointed post!
How strongly arm'd by fate:
His threatening foe! what shadows deepO'erwhelm his gloomy brow!His dart tremendous!——at fourscoreMy sole asylum, thou!
His threatening foe! what shadows deep
O'erwhelm his gloomy brow!
His dart tremendous!——at fourscore
My sole asylum, thou!
Haste, then, O resignation! haste,'Tis thine to reconcile[pg 269]My foe, and me; at thy approachMy foe begins to smile:
Haste, then, O resignation! haste,
'Tis thine to reconcile
My foe, and me; at thy approach
My foe begins to smile:
O! for that summit of my wish,Whilst here I draw my breath,That promise of eternal life,A glorious smile in death:
O! for that summit of my wish,
Whilst here I draw my breath,
That promise of eternal life,
A glorious smile in death:
What sight, heaven's azure arch beneath,Has most of heaven to boast?The man resign'd; at once serene,And giving up the ghost.
What sight, heaven's azure arch beneath,
Has most of heaven to boast?
The man resign'd; at once serene,
And giving up the ghost.
At death's arrival they shall smile,Who, not in life o'er gay,Serious and frequent thought send outTo meet him on his way:
At death's arrival they shall smile,
Who, not in life o'er gay,
Serious and frequent thought send out
To meet him on his way:
My gay coevals! (such there are)If happiness is dear;Approaching death's alarming dayDiscreetly let us fear:
My gay coevals! (such there are)
If happiness is dear;
Approaching death's alarming day
Discreetly let us fear:
The fear of death is truly wise,Till wisdom can rise higher;And, arm'd with pious fortitude,Death dreaded once, desire:
The fear of death is truly wise,
Till wisdom can rise higher;
And, arm'd with pious fortitude,
Death dreaded once, desire:
Grand climacteric vanitiesThe vainest will despise;[pg 270]Shock'd, when beneath the snow of ageMan immaturely dies:
Grand climacteric vanities
The vainest will despise;
Shock'd, when beneath the snow of age
Man immaturely dies:
But am not I myself the man?No need abroad to roamIn quest of faults to be chastis'd;What cause to blush at home?
But am not I myself the man?
No need abroad to roam
In quest of faults to be chastis'd;
What cause to blush at home?
In life's decline, when men relapseInto the sports of youth,The second child out-fools the first,And tempts the lash of truth;
In life's decline, when men relapse
Into the sports of youth,
The second child out-fools the first,
And tempts the lash of truth;
Shall a mere truant from the graveWith rival boys engage?His trembling voice attempt to sing,And ape the poet's rage?
Shall a mere truant from the grave
With rival boys engage?
His trembling voice attempt to sing,
And ape the poet's rage?
Here, madam! let me visit one,My fault who, partly, shares,And tell myself, by telling him,What more becomes our years;
Here, madam! let me visit one,
My fault who, partly, shares,
And tell myself, by telling him,
What more becomes our years;
And if your breast with prudent zealFor resignation glows,You will not disapprove a justResentment at its foes.
And if your breast with prudent zeal
For resignation glows,
You will not disapprove a just
Resentment at its foes.
In youth, Voltaire! our foibles pleadFor some indulgence due;[pg 271]When heads are white, their thoughts and aimsShould change their colour too:
In youth, Voltaire! our foibles plead
For some indulgence due;
When heads are white, their thoughts and aims
Should change their colour too:
How are you cheated by your wit!Old age is bound to pay,By nature's law, a mind discreet,For joys it takes away;
How are you cheated by your wit!
Old age is bound to pay,
By nature's law, a mind discreet,
For joys it takes away;
A mighty change is wrought by years,Reversing human lot;In age 'tis honour to lie hid,'Tis praise to be forgot;
A mighty change is wrought by years,
Reversing human lot;
In age 'tis honour to lie hid,
'Tis praise to be forgot;
The wise, as flowers, which spread at noon,And all their charms expose,When evening damps and shades descend,Their evolutions close.
The wise, as flowers, which spread at noon,
And all their charms expose,
When evening damps and shades descend,
Their evolutions close.
What though your muse has nobly soar'd,Is that our truth sublime?Ours, hoary friend! is to preferEternity to time:
What though your muse has nobly soar'd,
Is that our truth sublime?
Ours, hoary friend! is to prefer
Eternity to time:
Why close a life so justly fam'dWith such bold trash as this?54This for renown? yes, such as makesObscurity a bliss:
Why close a life so justly fam'd
With such bold trash as this?54
This for renown? yes, such as makes
Obscurity a bliss:
Your trash, with mine, at open war,Is obstinately bent,55[pg 272]Like wits below, to sow your taresOf gloom and discontent:
Your trash, with mine, at open war,
Is obstinately bent,55
Like wits below, to sow your tares
Of gloom and discontent:
With so much sunshine at command,Why light with darkness mix?Why dash with pain our pleasure?Your Helicon with Styx?
With so much sunshine at command,
Why light with darkness mix?
Why dash with pain our pleasure?
Your Helicon with Styx?
Your works in our divided mindsRepugnant passions raise,Confound us with a double stroke,We shudder whilst we praise;
Your works in our divided minds
Repugnant passions raise,
Confound us with a double stroke,
We shudder whilst we praise;
A curious web, as finely wroughtAs genius can inspire,From a black bag of poison spun,With horror we admire.
A curious web, as finely wrought
As genius can inspire,
From a black bag of poison spun,
With horror we admire.
Mean as it is, if this is readWith a disdainful air,I can't forgive so great a foeTo my dear friend Voltaire:
Mean as it is, if this is read
With a disdainful air,
I can't forgive so great a foe
To my dear friend Voltaire:
Early I knew him, early prais'd,And long to praise him late;His genius greatly I admire,Nor would deplore his fate;
Early I knew him, early prais'd,
And long to praise him late;
His genius greatly I admire,
Nor would deplore his fate;
A fate how much to be deplor'd!At which our nature starts;[pg 273]Forbear to fall on your own sword.To perish by your parts:
A fate how much to be deplor'd!
At which our nature starts;
Forbear to fall on your own sword.
To perish by your parts:
"But great your name"—To feed on air,Were then immortals born?Nothing is great, of which more great,More glorious is the scorn.
"But great your name"—To feed on air,
Were then immortals born?
Nothing is great, of which more great,
More glorious is the scorn.
Can fame your carcass from the wormWhich gnaws us in the grave,Or soul from that which never dies,Applauding Europe save?
Can fame your carcass from the worm
Which gnaws us in the grave,
Or soul from that which never dies,
Applauding Europe save?
But fame you lose; good sense aloneYour idol, praise, can claim;When wild wit murders happiness,It puts to death our fame!
But fame you lose; good sense alone
Your idol, praise, can claim;
When wild wit murders happiness,
It puts to death our fame!
Nor boast your genius, talents bright;E'en dunces will despise,If in your western beams is miss'dA genius for the skies;
Nor boast your genius, talents bright;
E'en dunces will despise,
If in your western beams is miss'd
A genius for the skies;
Your taste too fails; what most excelsTrue taste must relish most!And what, to rival palms above,Can proudest laurels boast?
Your taste too fails; what most excels
True taste must relish most!
And what, to rival palms above,
Can proudest laurels boast?
Sound heads salvation's helmet seek,56Resplendent are its rays,[pg 274]Let that suffice; it needs no plume,Of sublunary praise.
Sound heads salvation's helmet seek,56
Resplendent are its rays,
Let that suffice; it needs no plume,
Of sublunary praise.
May this enable couch'd VoltaireTo see that—"All is right,"57His eye, by flash of wit struck blind,Restoring to its sight;
May this enable couch'd Voltaire
To see that—"All is right,"57
His eye, by flash of wit struck blind,
Restoring to its sight;
If so, all's well: who much have err'd,That much have been forgiven;I speak with joy, with joy he'll hear,"Voltaires are, now, in heaven."
If so, all's well: who much have err'd,
That much have been forgiven;
I speak with joy, with joy he'll hear,
"Voltaires are, now, in heaven."
Nay, such philanthropy divine,So boundless in degree,Its marvellous of love extends(Stoops most profound!) to me:
Nay, such philanthropy divine,
So boundless in degree,
Its marvellous of love extends
(Stoops most profound!) to me:
Let others cruel stars arraign,Or dwell on their distress;But let my page, for mercies pour'd,A grateful heart express:
Let others cruel stars arraign,
Or dwell on their distress;
But let my page, for mercies pour'd,
A grateful heart express:
Walking, the present God was seen,Of old, in Eden fair;The God as present, by plain stepsOf providential care,
Walking, the present God was seen,
Of old, in Eden fair;
The God as present, by plain steps
Of providential care,
I behold passing through my life;His awful voice I hear;[pg 275]And, conscious of my nakedness,Would hide myself for fear:
I behold passing through my life;
His awful voice I hear;
And, conscious of my nakedness,
Would hide myself for fear:
But where the trees, or where the clouds,Can cover from his sight?Naked the centre to that eye,To which the sun is night.
But where the trees, or where the clouds,
Can cover from his sight?
Naked the centre to that eye,
To which the sun is night.
As yonder glittering lamps on highThrough night illumin'd roll;My thoughts of him, by whom they shine,Chase darkness from my soul;
As yonder glittering lamps on high
Through night illumin'd roll;
My thoughts of him, by whom they shine,
Chase darkness from my soul;
My soul, which reads his hand as clearIn my minute affairs,As in his ample manuscriptOf sun, and moon, and stars;
My soul, which reads his hand as clear
In my minute affairs,
As in his ample manuscript
Of sun, and moon, and stars;
And knows him not more bent arightTo wield that vast machine,Than to correct one erring thoughtIn my small world within;
And knows him not more bent aright
To wield that vast machine,
Than to correct one erring thought
In my small world within;
A world, that shall survive the fallOf all his wonders here;Survive, when suns ten thousand drop,And leave a darken'd sphere.
A world, that shall survive the fall
Of all his wonders here;
Survive, when suns ten thousand drop,
And leave a darken'd sphere.
Yon matter gross, how bright it shines!For time how great his care![pg 276]Sure spirit and eternityFar richer glories share;
Yon matter gross, how bright it shines!
For time how great his care!
Sure spirit and eternity
Far richer glories share;
Let those our hearts impress, on thoseOur contemplation dwell;On those my thoughts how justly thrown,By what I now shall tell:
Let those our hearts impress, on those
Our contemplation dwell;
On those my thoughts how justly thrown,
By what I now shall tell:
When backward with attentive mindLife's labyrinth I trace,I find him far myself beyondPropitious to my peace:
When backward with attentive mind
Life's labyrinth I trace,
I find him far myself beyond
Propitious to my peace:
Through all the crooked paths I trod,My folly he pursued;My heart astray to quick returnImportunately woo'd;
Through all the crooked paths I trod,
My folly he pursued;
My heart astray to quick return
Importunately woo'd;
Due resignation home to pressOn my capricious will,How many rescues did I meet,Beneath the mask of ill!
Due resignation home to press
On my capricious will,
How many rescues did I meet,
Beneath the mask of ill!
How many foes in ambush laidBeneath my soul's desire!The deepest penitents are madeBy what we most admire.
How many foes in ambush laid
Beneath my soul's desire!
The deepest penitents are made
By what we most admire.
Have I not sometimes (real goodSo little mortals know!)[pg 277]Mounting the summit of my wish,Profoundly plung'd in woe?
Have I not sometimes (real good
So little mortals know!)
Mounting the summit of my wish,
Profoundly plung'd in woe?
I rarely plann'd, but cause I foundMy plan's defeat to bless:Oft I lamented an event;It turn'd to my success.
I rarely plann'd, but cause I found
My plan's defeat to bless:
Oft I lamented an event;
It turn'd to my success.
By sharpen'd appetite to giveTo good intense delight,Through dark and deep perplexitiesHe led me to the right.
By sharpen'd appetite to give
To good intense delight,
Through dark and deep perplexities
He led me to the right.
And is not this the gloomy path,Which you are treading now?The path most gloomy leads to light,When our proud passions bow:
And is not this the gloomy path,
Which you are treading now?
The path most gloomy leads to light,
When our proud passions bow:
When labouring under fancied ill,My spirits to sustain,He kindly cur'd with sovereign draughtsOf unimagin'd pain.
When labouring under fancied ill,
My spirits to sustain,
He kindly cur'd with sovereign draughts
Of unimagin'd pain.
Pain'd sense from fancied tyrannyAlone can set us free;A thousand miseries we feel,Till sunk in misery.
Pain'd sense from fancied tyranny
Alone can set us free;
A thousand miseries we feel,
Till sunk in misery.
Cloy'd with a glut of all we wish,Our wish we relish less;[pg 278]Success, a sort of suicide,Is ruin'd by success:
Cloy'd with a glut of all we wish,
Our wish we relish less;
Success, a sort of suicide,
Is ruin'd by success:
Sometimes he led me near to death,And, pointing to the grave,Bid terror whisper kind advice;And taught the tomb to save:
Sometimes he led me near to death,
And, pointing to the grave,
Bid terror whisper kind advice;
And taught the tomb to save:
To raise my thoughts beyond where worldsAs spangles o'er us shine,One day he gave, and bid the nextMy soul's delight resign.
To raise my thoughts beyond where worlds
As spangles o'er us shine,
One day he gave, and bid the next
My soul's delight resign.
We to ourselves, but through the meansOf mirrors, are unknown;In this my fate can you descryNo features of your own?
We to ourselves, but through the means
Of mirrors, are unknown;
In this my fate can you descry
No features of your own?
And if you can, let that excuseThese self-recording lines;A record, modesty forbids,Or to small bound confines:
And if you can, let that excuse
These self-recording lines;
A record, modesty forbids,
Or to small bound confines:
In grief why deep ingulf'd? You seeYou suffer nothing rare;Uncommon grief for common fate!That wisdom cannot bear.
In grief why deep ingulf'd? You see
You suffer nothing rare;
Uncommon grief for common fate!
That wisdom cannot bear.
When streams flow backward to their source,And humbled flames descend,[pg 279]And mountains wing'd shall fly aloft,Then human sorrows end;
When streams flow backward to their source,
And humbled flames descend,
And mountains wing'd shall fly aloft,
Then human sorrows end;
But human prudence too must cease,When sorrows domineer,When fortitude has lost its fire,And freezes into fear:
But human prudence too must cease,
When sorrows domineer,
When fortitude has lost its fire,
And freezes into fear:
The pang most poignant of my lifeNow heightens my delight;I see a fair creation riseFrom chaos, and old night:
The pang most poignant of my life
Now heightens my delight;
I see a fair creation rise
From chaos, and old night:
From what seem'd horror, and despair,The richest harvest rose;And gave me in the nod divineAn absolute repose.
From what seem'd horror, and despair,
The richest harvest rose;
And gave me in the nod divine
An absolute repose.
Of all the plunders of mankind,More gross, or frequent, none,Than in their grief and joy misplac'd,Eternally are shown.
Of all the plunders of mankind,
More gross, or frequent, none,
Than in their grief and joy misplac'd,
Eternally are shown.
But whither points all this parade?It says, that near you liesA book, perhaps yet unperus'd,Which you should greatly prize:
But whither points all this parade?
It says, that near you lies
A book, perhaps yet unperus'd,
Which you should greatly prize:
Of self-perusal, science rare!Few know the mighty gain;[pg 280]Learn'd prelates, self-unread, may readTheir Bibles o'er in vain:
Of self-perusal, science rare!
Few know the mighty gain;
Learn'd prelates, self-unread, may read
Their Bibles o'er in vain:
Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself(So sages tell us) came,What is it, but a daughter fairOf my maternal theme?
Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself
(So sages tell us) came,
What is it, but a daughter fair
Of my maternal theme?
Unletter'd and untravel'd menAn oracle might find,Would they consult their own contents,The Delphos of the mind.
Unletter'd and untravel'd men
An oracle might find,
Would they consult their own contents,
The Delphos of the mind.
Enter your bosom; there you'll meetA revelation new,A revelation personal;Which none can read but you.
Enter your bosom; there you'll meet
A revelation new,
A revelation personal;
Which none can read but you.