LIBRARY ANNEX The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013172766 _ Cornell University Library PR 3382.T22 1878 The task, a poem. 3 1924 013 172 766 THE TASK. LONDON : PRINTED BY EDMUND EVANS, EAQUET COURT. THE TASK A POEM BY WILLIAM COWPER. ILLTJSTJIATED BY BIEKET FOSTElt. '#1 KOni-JKT CARTER clt UKoTHEKS, -JoO BROAU'WAY, 18 7s. CONTENTS. PAGE Book: First The Sofa 1 Book Second The Time-Pieck 4-''> Book Thibd The Garden ^'< Book Fourth The Winter Evening 1'27 Book Fifth The Winter Morning Walk 107 Book Sixth The Winter Walk at Noon 211 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. DESIGNED BY BIRKET FOSTER. ENGRAVED ON WOOD AND PRINTED BY EDMUND EVANS. look i^xst—^e Ma. I-AGE Vignette. — Argument to Book First. 1 Vignette Title to the Sofa. 3 The rural walk ttrough lanes Of grassy swarth, close cropp'd by nibbling sheep. And skirted thick with intertexture firm Of thorny boughs. 9 The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; Displaying on its varied side the gi'ace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the list'ning ear ; Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. 11 But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime In still repeated circles, screaming loud, The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl, That hails the rising moon, have charms for me. 13 A cottage, whither oft we since repair : 'Tis perch'd upon the green hill-top, but close Environ'd with a ring of branching elms. That overhang the thatch, itself unseen Peeps at the vale below. 15 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PASS Not distant far, a length of colonnade Invites us. 17 Descending now (but cautious, lest too fast) A sudden steep upon a rustic bridge, We pass a gulf, in which the willows dip Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink. 18 The summit gain'd, behold the proud alcove That crowns it ! 19 — — The sheepfold here Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe. 21 The grove receives us next ; Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms We may discern the thresher at his task. 24 The lark is gay. That dries his feathers, saturate with dew, Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams Of dayspring overshoot his humble nest. The peasant, too, a witness of his song. Himself a songster, is as gay as he. 30 Then forests, or the savage rook, may please, That hides the sea-mew in his hollow clefts. 31 But needful food. Though press'd with hunger oft, or comelier clothes. Though pinch'd with cold, asks never. — Kate is crazed ! 33 I see a column of slow-rising smoke O'ertop the lofty wood that skirts the wild. A vagabond and useless tribe there eat Their miserable meal. 35 Methinks I see thee straying on the beach. And asking of the surge that bathes thy foot. If ever it has wash'd our distant shore. 39 The moonbeam, sliding softly in between The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish. 44 LIST OF ILLUSTEATIOIfS. look ^erottb— ®|e iime=|icce. PAGE VlG^fETl'E. — Argument to Book Second. 45 Vignette Title to The Tihe-Pieoe — Some vast wilderness, Some boundless oontigaity of shade. 47 Alas for Sicily ! rude fragments now Lie scatter'd where the shapely column stood. Her palaces are dust. 51 I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, And fields without a flower, for warmer France With all her vines. 57 Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year most part deform'd With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost. 59 The most important and effectual guard, Support, and ornament of Virtue's cause. 63 All catch the frenzy, downward from her grace, Whose flambeaux flash against the morning skies, And gild our chamber ceilings a^ they pass. 76 Vignette. — Cowper's house at Olney. 84 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. look ®|irtt— ®l)C iav'bciv. PAGE ViGNKTTE. — Argument to Book Thied. 85 Vignette Title to the Gakden. 87 The savage din of the swift pack, And olamonrs of the field ? — Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain. 101 Innocent partner of my peaceful home, Whom ten long years' experience of my care Has made at last familiar. 102 That where he builds The agglomerated pile his frame may front The sun's meridian disk, and at the back Enjoy close shelter. 108 There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snag, While the winds whistle, and the snows descend. 113 But are not wholesome airs, though unperfumed By roses ; and clear suns, though scarcely felt ; And groves, if unharmonious, yet secure Prom clamour, and whose very silence charms. 120 thou, resort and mart of all the earth, Chequer'd with all complexions of mankind. And spotted with all crimes. 125 LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. iaak laiirtl^— i|e miwUt iijeiiiug. PAGE Vignette. — Augument to Book Fourth. 127 Vignette Title to The Winter Evening — Hark ! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright. 120 Methinks I see thee in the streaky west. With matron step slow moving, while the Night Treads on thy sweeping train. 110 I saw the woods and fields at close of day A variegated show; the meadows green, Though faded ; and the lands, where lately waved The golden harvest, of a mellow brown, Upturn'd so lately by the forceful share. 1 13 To-morrow brings a change, a total change! 113 The wain goes heavily, impeded sore By congregated loads, adhering close To the ologg'd wheels : and in its sluggish pace Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. 115 And, while her infant race, with outspread hands. And crowded kueea, sit cowering o'er the sparks, Retires, content to quake, so they be warni'd. 117 There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor. The lackey, and the groom. 151 Over head Suspend their crazy boxes, planted thick, And water'd duly. There the pitcher stands, A fragment, and the spoutless teapot there. 164 LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. PAGE Vignette. — Argument to Book Fifth. 167 Vignette Title to The Winteh Mousing Walk — With eye askance I view the tuuscular proporfcion'd limb Transform' d to a lean shank. 169 The cattle mourn in corners, "where the fence Screens them, and seem lialf-petrified to sleep In unrecurabent sadness. 171 Forth goes the woodman, leaving unooncem'd The cheerful haunts of man. 171 Come trooping at the housewife's well-known call The feather'd tribes domestic. 173 Not so, where, scornful of a check, it leaps The mill-dam, dashes on the restless wheel, And wantons in the pebbly gulf below. 175 Ye horrid towers, the abode of broken hearts ; Te dungeons, and ye cages of despair. 187 He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and, though poor perhaps, compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 202 Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone, And eyes intent upon the scanty herb] It yields them. 209 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. iook mi^—^i MinUx ®alk at foait. PAGE Vignette — Augument to Book Sixth. 211 ViGNErrE Title to The Wintek Walk at Noon — Again the harmonj comes o'er the vale ; And through the trees I view the embattled tower Whence all the music. 213 Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light From spray to spray. 217 — Sheepwalks populous with bleating lambs. 218 E'en in the spring and play-time of the year. That calls the unwonted villnger abroad With all her little ones, a sportive train, To gather kingcups in the yellow mead. 227 The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade When none pursues, through mere delight of heart, And spirits buoyant with excess of glee. 228 And call'd the world to worship on the banks Of Avon, famed in song. 213 Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat, Beneath the turf that I have often trod. 2a7 Vignette. 258 gir&ertiscmcivt. ®Ijt Ijistorjr of tljc foUofiring probuttiou is bricfln this : 3i i'iibij, foub of itlmili krsr, bcmaiibcb u |]onn of tljnt fiiiib from the ^^utbor, imb gii(>t bint fijc Sof;t for ;t subjctt. |jc obcjicb ; ;u\b, Ir.ifaiiig imicb leisure, tonivcctcb ttaotljcr subject feritlj it ; uub, pursuing tbe triiiu of tljonjbt to bjljiclj Ijis situation anb turn of ntinb Itb bini, brought fortir ut Icngtij, iivstcab of tljc trifle fobitb' !je nt first intenbrb, a serious affair — a D'olunte. 'oakj^k^i .^|-e,S0fa, ^z ^xjumznt ' Historical deduction of seats, from the stool to the Bofa — A schoolboy's ramble — A walk in the coun- try — The scene described— Rural sounds sis well as sights delightfiil — Another walk — Mistake concern- ing the charms of solitude corrected— Colonnades commended— Alcove, and the view from it— The wilderness— The grove— The thresher— The neces- sity and the benefits of exercise — The works of nature superior to, and in some instances inimitable by, art — The wearisomeness of what is commonly called alifeofpleasure— Change of scene sometimes expedient— A common described, and the character of crazy Kate introduced- Gipsies— The blessings of civilized life — That state most favourable to virtue— The South Sea islanders compassionated, but chiefly Omai — His present state of mind sup- posed—Civilized Ufe friendly to virtue, but not great cities — Great cities, and London in particu- lar, allowed their due praise, but censured— FSte champfitre — The book concludes with a reflection on the effects of dissipation and effeminacy upon our public measures. tl . ,^ t^bc ^ofii. I SING tlie Sofii. I wilt) lately sang; Trutli, HopCj and Clia.rih',* and toucli'd with awo The solemn chords, and with a trembling hand, Escaped witli pain from that adventnroas Hight, * See Pueiiis. THE TASK. Now seek repose upon an humbler theme ; The themOj though humble, yet august and proud The occasion — for the Fair commands the song. Time was, when clothing sumptuous or for use, Save their own painted skins, our sires had none. As yet black breeches were not ; satin smooth, Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile : The hardy chief upon the rugged rock, Wash'd by the sea, or on the gravelly bank Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud. Fearless of wrong, reposed his weary strength. Those barbarous ages past, succeeded next The birthday of Invention ; weak at first, Dull in design, and clumsy to perform. Joint-stools were then created; on three legs Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm A massy slab, in fashion square or round. On such a stool immortal Alfred sat, And sway'd the sceptre of his infant realms : And such in ancient halls and mansions drear May still be seen ; but perforated sore. And drilPd in holes, the solid oak is found. By worms voracious eating through and through. At length a generation more refined Improved the simple plan ; made three legs four, THE SOFA. Gave them a twisted form vermicular, And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuff' d. Induced a splendid cover, green and blue, Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought And woven close, or needlework subhme. There might ye see the peony spread wide. The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass, Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes. And parrots with twin cherries iu their beak. Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright With Nature's varnish, sever'd into stripes, That interlaced each other, these supplied Of texture firm a lattice-work, that braced The new machine, and it became a chair. But restless was the chair ; the back erect Distress'd the weary loins, that felt no ease ; The slippery seat betray'd the sliding part That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling down. Anxious in vain to find the distant floor. These for the rich ; the rest, whom Fate had placed In modest mediocrity, content With base material, sat on well-tann'd hides. Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth. With here and there a tuft of crimson yarn. Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fix'd. THE TASK. If cushion miglit be call'd, wliat harder seem'd Than the firm oak of which the frame was form'd. No want of timber then was felt or fjear'd In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stood Ponderous and fix'd by its own massy weight. But elbows still were wanting : these, some say, An alderman of Cripplegate contrived ; And some ascribe the invention to a priest. Burly and big, and studious of his ease. But, rude at first, and not with easy slope Eeceding wide, they pressed against the ribs. And bruised the side ; and, elevated high. Taught the raised shoulders to invade the ears. Long time elapsed or e'er our rugged sires Complain' d, though incommodiously pent in. And ill at ease behind. The ladies first 'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex. Ingenious Fancy, never better pleased, Than when employ'd t'accommodate the fair, Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devised The soft settee ; one elbow at each end. And in the midst an elbow it received. United yet divided, twain at once. So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne ; And so two citizens, who take the air. THE SOFA. Close pack'dj and smiling, in a chaise and one. But relaxation of the languid frame, By soft recumbency of outstretcli'd limbs. Was bliss reserved for happier days. So slow The growth of what is excellent ; so hard To attain perfection in this nether world. Thus first Necessity invented stools. Convenience next suggested elbow chairs, And Luxury the accomplish'd Sofa last. The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he. Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour To sleep within the carriage more secure. His legs depending at the open door. Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk. The tedious rector drawling o'er his head ; And sweet the clerk below.. But neither sleep Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead, Nor his who quits the box at midnight hour. To slumber in the carriage more secure. Nor sleep enjoyed by curate in his desk. Nor yet the dosings of the clerk, are sweet. Compared with the repose the Sofa yields. Oh may I live exempted (while I live Guiltless of pampered appetite obscene) THE TASK. From pangs arthritic^ that infest the toe Of libertine Excess ! The Sofa suits The gouty limb^ 'tis true ; but gouty limb. Though on a Sofa, may I never feel : For 1 have loved the rural walk through lanes Of grassy swarthy close cropp'd by nibbling sheep. And skirted thick with intertexture firm Of thorny boughs ; have loved the rural walk O'er hills, through valleys, and by rivers' brink, E'er since a truant boy I pass'd my bounds To enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames ; And still remember, nor without regret Of hours that sorrow since has much endear' d. How oft, my slice of pocket store consumed. Still hungering, penniless, and far from home, I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws. Or blushing crabs, or berries, that emboss The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere. Hard fare ! but such as boyish appetite Disdains not ; nor the palate, undep raved By culinary arts, unsavoury deems. No Sofa then awaited my return ; Nor Sofa then I needed. Youth repairs His wasted spirits quickly, by long toil. Incurring short fatigue; and thpugh our years THE SOFA. As life declines, speed rapidity away, And not a year but pilfers as he goes 10 THE TASK. Some youthful grace, that age would gladly keep ; A tooth or auburu lock, and by degrees Their length and colour from the locks they spare ; The elastic spring of an unwearied foot, That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the fence, That play of lungs, inhaling and again Eespiring freely the fresh air, that makes Swift pace or steep ascent no toil to me. Mine have not pilfer'd yet, nor yet impair'd My relish of fair prospect : scenes that soothed Or charm'd me young, no longer young, I find Still soothing, and of power to charm me still. And witness, dear companion of my walks, AVhose arm this twentieth winter I perceive Fast lock'd in mine, with pleasure such as love, Confirm'd by long experience of thy worth And well-tried virtues could alone inspire — Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long. Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere. And that my raptures are not conjured up To serve occasions of poetic pomp. But genuine, and art partner of them all. How oft upon yon eminence our pace Has slacken'd to a pause, and we have borne The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, THE SOFA. Wliile Adiniratioiij feeding at tlie eye, And still unsated, dwelt uprm the scene. 'J'licnee with wliat pleasure have we just discern'd The distant plough slow moving, and Lcside 1] His labouring team, that swerv'd n(jt from tlie tniek The sturdy swain diuiinish'd to a liov ! Here Ouse, slow winding through a level }ilain ( )f spacious meads, with cattle spiriidvled o'er, Conducts the eve along his sinuous course Delighted. 'J'liere, fast rooted in their liank, Stand, never overlook'd, oin- favourite elms. That screen the herdsman's solitary liut ; Wliile far beyond, and overtliwart the stream. 12 THE TASK. That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the listening ear. Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. Scenes must be beautiful which, daily view'd, Please daily, and whose novelty survives Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years : Praise justly due to those that I describe. Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds. Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds. That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore. And lull the spirit while they fill the mind ; Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast. And all their leaves fast fluttering, all at once. Nor less composure waits upon the roar Of distant floods, or on the softer voice Of neighbouring fountain, or of rills that slip Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length THE KOI'A. In matted grass, tliat witli a livelier green l^etrays the seci-et of tlieir silent eoiirse. Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds, ])ut animated natui-e sweeter still, To soothe and satisfy the human ear. 13 Ten thousand warljlers eheer the day, and one The livelong- night: nor these alone, whose notes Nice-finger'd Art must eunilate in vain, But cawing rooks, and hites that sivim sublime 14 THE TASK. In still repeated circles, screaming loud, The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl, That hails the rising moon, have charms for me. Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh. Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns. And only there, please highly for their sake. Peace to the artist, whose ingenious thought Devised the weather-house, that useful toy ! Fearless of humid air and gathering rains, Forth steps the man — an emblem of myself! More delicate his timorous mate retires. When Winter soaks the fields, and female feet. Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay. Or ford the rivulets, are best at home, The task of new discoveries falls on me. At such a season, and with such a charge. Once went I forth; and foanJ, till then unknown, A cottage, whither oft we since repair : 'Tis perch'd upon the green hill-top, but close Environed with a ring of branching elms. That overhang the thatch, itself unseen Peeps at the vale below; so thick beset With foliage of such dark redundant growth, I call'd the low-roof'd lodge the peasant's nest. And, hidden as it is, and far remote THE SOFA. From MK li u ij)1l imiio sounds I'-, li unit tin l u 111 viU ILjC 111 111 tow 11, tllL ]n\ of Llll ■- "l Incessant, clinl^intc liainiiiers, ^| gTimling' wlicfls. And infants clamordus -wlietlicr pleased or paiiiM, Oft have I wisli'd the peaceful eovti t niiue. T%r 16 THE TASK. Here, I have said, at least I should possess The poet's treasure, silence, and indulge The dreams of fancy, tranquil and secure. Vain thouffht ! the dweller in that still retreat Dearly obtains the refuge it affords. Its elevated site forbids the wretch To drink sweet waters of the crystal well ; He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch, And, heavy laden, brings his beverage home. Far fetch'd and little worth ; nor seldom waits. Dependent on the baker's punctual call, To hear his creaking panniers at the door. Angry and sad, and his last crust consumed. So farewell envy of the peasant's nest ! If solitude make scant the means of life, Society for me ! — thou seeming sweet, Be still a pleasing object in my view ; My visit still, but never mine abode. Not distant far, a length of colonnade Invites us. Monument of ancient taste. Now scorn'd, but worthy of a better fate. Our fathers knew the value of a screen From sultry suns; and, in their shaded walks And long protracted bowers, enjoy'd at noon The gloom and coolness of decliniug day. THE SOFA. 17 We bear oar sliades nljmit us; self-deprived Of otlier screen, tlie tliin umbrella spread, And rang'e an Indian waste without a tree. I'hanks to Benevolus''' — lie spares me vet These chestnuts ranged in ca-respouding lines : And, though himself so polish'd, still reprieves The obsolete prolixity of shade. * ,Tohn Courtney Throckniortor, Esq. of Weston Underwood. 18 THE TASK, ^^^ Descending now (but eautionSj lest too fast) A sudden steep upon a rustic bridge^ We |5ass a gulf, in wliicli the willows dip Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to di-ink. Hence, ankle-deep in moss and flow'iy thyme. We mount again, and feel at every step Our foot half-sunk in hillocks green and soft, Eaised by the mole, the miner of the soil. THE SOFA. 19 Re, not unlike the great ones of mankind, Disfigures eartli : and, plotting in tlie dark, Toils much to earn a monumental pile, That may record the mischiefs he has done. The summit gain'd, behold the proud alcove That crowns it ! yet not all its pride secures The grand retreat from injuries impresbVl By rural carvers, who with knives deface The panels, leaving an obscure rude name, In characters uncouth, and sjDelt amiss. 20 THE TASK. So strong the zeal to immortalize himself Beats in tlie breast of man, that e'en a few, Pew transient years, won from the abyss abhorr'd Of blank oblivion, seems a glorious prize, And even to a clown. Now roves the eye ; And, posted on this speculative height, Exults in its command. The sheepfold here Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe. At first, progressive as a stream, they seek The middle field ; but, scatter'd by degrees, Each to his choice, soon whiten all the land. There, from the sunburnt hayfield, homeward creeps The loaded wain ; while, lighten' d of its charge, The wain that meets it passes swiftly by ; The boorish driver leaning o'er his team Yocif'rous, and impatient of delay. Nor less attractive is the woodland scene. Diversified with trees of ev'ry growth. Alike, yet various. Here the gray smooth trunks Of ash, or lime, or beech, distinctly shine. Within the twilight of their distant shades ; There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood Seems sunk, and shorten'd to its topmost boughs. No tree in all the grove but has its charms. Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some. THE SOJ-'A. 21 And of a wannish graj' ; tlie willow sucli, And poplai-^ that with silver lines his leaf, And ash far sti etching his umbrageous arm; Of deeper green the elm; aud deeper still, Lord of the woods, the long surviving oak. 22 THE TASK. Some glossy-leaved, and shining in tlie sun, The maple, and the beech of oily nuts Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve Diffusing odours : nor unnoted pass The sycamore, capricious in attire. Now green, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet Have changed the woods, in scarlet honours bright. O'er these, but far beyond (a spacious map Of hill and valley interposed between). The Ouse dividing the well-water'd land. Now glitters in the sun, and now retires. As bashful, yet impatient to be seen. Hence the declivity is sharp and short, And such the re-ascent ; between them weeps A little naiad her impoverish'd urn All summer long, which winter fills again. The folded gates would bar my progress now. But that the lord* of this enclosed demesne. Communicative of the good he owns. Admits me to a share : the guiltless eye Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys. Refreshing change ! where now the blazing sun ? By short transition we have lost his glare, * See the foregoing note. THE SOFA. 23 And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime. Ye fallen avenues ! once more I mourn Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice That yet a remnant of your race survives. How airy and how light the graceful arch. Yet awful as the consecrated roof Re-echoing pious anthems ! while beneath The chequer'd earth seems restless as a flood Brushed by the wind. So sportive is the light Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance, Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick. And dark'ning and enlight'ning, as the leaves Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot. And now, with nerves new braced and spirits cheer'd. We tread the wilderness, whose well-roll'd walks. With curvature of slow and easy sweep — Deception innocent — give ample space To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next ; Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms We may discern the thresher at his task. Thump after thump resounds the constant flail. That seems to swing uncertain, and yet falls Full on the destined ear. Wide flies the chaff, The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist 24 THE TASK. Of atoms, sparkling iu the noonday beam. Come Lithcr, ye that press your beds of down. And sleep not ; see liim sweating o'er his Ijread Befoi'e lie eats it. — 'Tis the primal curse, But soften'd into mercy; made the pledge Of cheerful days, and nio-lits without a o'roan. THE SOFA. By ceaseless action all that is subsists. Constant rotation of the unwearied wheel That Nature rides upon maintains her health, Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads An instant's pause, and lives but while she moves. Its own revolvency upholds the world. Winds from all quarters agitate the air, And fit the limpid element for use,. Else noxious : oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams, All feel the freshening impulse, and are cleansed By restless undulation : e'en the oak Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm : He seems. indeed indignant, and to feel The impression of the blast with proud disdain, Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm He held the thunder : but the monarch owes His firm stability to what he scorns — More fix'd below, the more disturb'd above. The law, by which all creatures else are bound. Binds man, the lord of all. Himself derives No mean advantage from a kindred cause. From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease. The sedentary stretch their lazy length When custom bids, but no refreshment find. For none they need : the languid eye, the cheek 26 THE TASK. Deserted of its bloom, the flaccidj shrunk. And wither'd muscle, and the vapid soul, Eeproach their owner with that love of rest To which he forfeits e'en the rest he loves. Not such the alert and active. Measure life By its true worth, the comfort it affords. And theirs alone seems worthy of the name. Good health, and, its associate in the most, Good temper : spirits prompt to undertake. And not soon spent, though in an arduous task ; The powers of fancy and strong thought are theirs ; E'en age itself seems privileged in them. With clear exemption from its own defects. A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front The veteran shows, and, gracing a gray beard With youthfal smiles, descends toward the grave Sprightly, and old almost without decay. Like a coy maiden. Base, when courted most, Farthest retires — an idol,, at whose shrine Who oftenest sacrifice are favour'd least. The love of Nature and the scenes she draws Is Nature's dictate. Strange ! there should be found. Who, self-imprison' d in their proud saloons. Renounce the odours of the open field For the unscented fictions of the loom ; THE SOFA. 27 Who, satisfied with only penoil'd scenes, Prefer to the performance of a God The inferior wonders of an artist's hand ! Lovely indeed the mimic works of Art ; But Nature's works far lovelier. I admire. None more admires, the painter's magic skill. Who shows me that which I shall never see. Conveys a distant country into mine, And throws Italian light on English walls : But imitative strokes can do no more Than please the eye — sweet Nature every sense. The air salubrious of her lofty hills. The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales. And music of her woods — no works of man May rival these ; these all bespeak a power Peculiar, and exclusively her own. Beneath the open sky she spreads the feast ; 'Tis free to all — 'tis every day renew'd ; Who scorns it, starves deservedly at home. He does not scorn it, who, imprison'd long In some unwholesome dungeon, and a prey To sallow sickness, which the vapours, dank And clammy, of his dark abode have bred. Escapes at last to liberty and light : His cheek recovers soon its healthful hue ; 28 THE TASK. His eye relumines its extinguisVd fires ; He walksj he leaps, he runs — is wing'd with joy, And riots in the sweets of every breeze. He does not scorn it, who has long endured A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs. Nor yet the mariner, his blood inflamed With acrid salts ; his very heart athirst To gaze at Nature in her green array. Upon the ship's tall side he stands, possess'd With visions prompted by intense desire : Fair fields appear below, such as he left Far distant, such as he would die to find- He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more. The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns ; The lowering eye, the petulance, the frown. And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort. And mar the face of beauty, when no cause For such immeasurable woe appears. These Flora banishes, and gives the fair Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own. It is the constant revolution, stale And tasteless, of the same repeated joys. That palls and satiates, and makes languid life A pedlar's pack, that bows the bearer down. Health sufiers, and the spirits ebb ; the heart THE SOFA. 29 Recoils from its own choice — at the full feast Is famish' d — finds no music in the song. No smartness in the jest ; and wonders why. Yet thousands stiU desire to journey on, Though halt and weary of the path they tread. The paralytic, who can hold her cards, But cannot play them, borrows a fi-iend's hand To deal and shuffle, to divide and sort Her mingled suits and sequences ; and sits, Spectatress both and spectacle, a sad And silent cipher, while her proxy plays. Others are dragged into the crowded room Between supporters ; and, once seated, sit. Through downright inability to rise. Till the stout bearers lift the corpse again. These speak a loud memento. Yet e'en these Themselves love life, and chng to it, as he That overhangs a torrent to a twig. They love it, and yet loath it ; fear to die. Yet scorn the purposes for which they live. Then wherefore not renounce them ? No — the dread. The slavish dread of solitude, that breeds Reflection and remorse, the fear of shame. And their inveterate habits, all forbid. Whom call we gay ? That honour has been long 30 THE TASK. LIk lioast oi inero pretenders to tlic name, llieiiiiiiiceiitaregay— tlielai-kisgny, That lilies liis featlievs, saturate witli dew, &j) Bencatli the rosy eloudj wliile yet the beams Of dayspring overshoot his humble uest. The peasant, too, a witness ' of his song, Himself a songster, is as gay as he. liut save me from the gaiety of tluise. Whose headaches nail them to a noonday bed ; And save me too ti'om theirs, whose hai>'"-ard eves Hash desperation, and betray their pangs Tor property stripp'd iift' by ci'uel ehance ; 1 rom gaiety, that tills the bones with pain. The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with woe. THE SOFA. 31 Tlic Eartli was iiiade so various^ that the mind Of desultory inaUj studious of change, And pleased "\\'itli noveltj', might lie indulged. Prospects, Innvever lovely, may be seen Till half their beauties fade; the weary sight. Too well ac([uaiiiteLl witli tlieir smiles, slides utt' Fastidi(jns, seeking less familiar scenes. Then snug euclosni-es in the sheltcr'd vale. Where frequent hedges intercept the eye, Delight us; happy tn renounce awhile, Not senseless of its charms, what still we luve, That such sliort absence nuiy endear it mure. Then f irests, or the savage rock, may please, That hides the sea-mew in his hollow clefts. 32 THE TASK Above the reach of man. His hoary head, Conspicaoiis many a league, the mariner. Bound homeward, and in hope already there. Greets with three cheers exulting. At his waist A girdle of half-wither' d shrubs he shews. And at his feet the baffled billows die. The common, overgrown with fern, and rough With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform'd. And dangerous to the touch, has yet its bloom. And decks itself with ornaments of gold. Yields no unpleasing ramble ; there the turf Smells fresh, and, rich in odoriferous herbs And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense AVith luxury of unexpected sweets. There often wanders one, whom better days Saw better clad, in cloak of satin trimmM With lace, and hat with splendid riband bound. A serving-maid was she, and fell in love With one who left her, went to sea, and died. Her fancy follow' d him through foaming waves To distant shores ; and she would sit and weep At what a sailor suffers ; fancy too. Delusive most where warmest wishes are. Would oft anticipate his glad return, And dream of transports she was not to know. THE SOFA. Slie heard the doleful tidings of his deiith — And never smiled again ! and now she roams 'J'jie dreary waste ; there spends the livelong day, And there, unless when charity forbids, The livelong night. A tatter'd aprou hides, 33 s ■^1 ' W(jrn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a gown More tatter'd still ; :ind Ijoth but ill conceal A bosom heaved with never-ceasing sighs. yiie begs an idle pin ef all she meets. And hoards them in her sleeve ; but needful t'oud. Though pressed with hunger oft, er conuh'er cLithes, Though pinch'd with cold, asks never. — Kate is crazei! ! 34 THE TASK. I see a colamn of slow-rising smoke O'erfcop tlie lofty wood that skirts the wild. A vagabond and useless tribe there eat Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung Between two poles upon a stick transverse, Receives the morsel — flesh obscene of dog, Or vermin, or at best of cock pnrloinM From his accustomed perch. Hard-faring race ! They pick their fuel out of every hedge. Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves unquench'd The spark of life. The sportive wind blows wide Their fluttering rags, and shows a tawny skin. The vellum of the pedigree they claim. Great skill have they in palmistry, and more To conjure clean away the gold they touch. Conveying worthless dross into its place ; Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal. Strange ! that a creature rational, and cast In human mould, should brutalize by choice His nature ; and, though capable of arts. By which the world might profit, and himself, Self-banish'd from society, prefer Such squalid sloth to honourable toil ! Yet even these, though, feigning sickness oft. They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb, THE SOFA. And vex their flesh with artificial sores, Can change tlieir whine into a mirthful note When safe occasion offers ; and with diincc, And music of the Lladder and the bag, Beguile their woes, and make the woods resound. Such health and gaiety tif heart enjoy The houseless rovers of the s^dvan world ; And, breathing wholesome air, and wandering much. Need other physic none to heal the effects Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold. Blest he, though undistiuguish'd from the crowd Bv wealth, or dii)'uit\", who dwells secui-e, 36 THE TASK. Where man, by nature fierce, has laid aside His fierceness, haying learnt, though slow to learn, The manners and the arts of civil life. His wants indeed are many ; but supply Is obvious, placed within the easy reach Of temperate wishes and industrious hands. Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil ; Not rude and surly, and beset with thorns. And terrible to sight, as when she springs (If e'er she spring spontaneous) in remote And barbarous climes, where violence prevails, And strength is lord of all; but gentle, kind, By culture tamed, by liberty refresh'd, And all her fruits by radiant truth matured. War and the chase engross the savage whole ; War follow'd for revenge, or to supplant The envied tenants of some happier spot : The chase for sustenance, precarious trust ! His hard condition with severe constraint Binds all his faculties, forbids all growth Of wisdom, proves a school, in which he learns Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate. Mean self- attachment, and scarce aught beside. Thus fare the shivering natives of the north, And thus the rangers of the western world. THE SOFA. 37 Where it advances far into tlie deep, Towards the antarctic. E'en the favour'd isles, So lately found, although the constant sun Cheer all their seasons with a grateful smile. Can boast but little virtue ; and, inert Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain In manners — victims of luxurious ease. These therefore I can pity, placed remote From all that science traces, art invents. Or inspiration teaches ; and enclosed In boundless oceans, never to be pass'd By navigators uninform'd as they. Or ploughed perhaps by British bark again : But, far beyond the rest, and with most cause. Thee, gentle savage ! * whom no love of thee Or thine, but curiosity, perhaps, Or else vain-glory, prompted us to draw Forth from thy native bowers, to show thee here With what superior skill we can abuse The gifts of Providence, and squander life. The dream is past ; and thou hast found again Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams. And homestaU thatch'd with leaves. But hast thou found * Omai. 38 THE TASK. Their former charms ? Andj having seen our state, Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports, And heard our music ; are thy simple friends, Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights As dear to thee as once ? And have thy joys Lost nothing by comparison with ours ? Rude as thou art (for we retu.rn'd thee rude And ignorant, except of outward show), I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart And spiritless, as never to regret Sweets tasted here, and left as soon as known. Methinks I see thee straying on the beach, And asking of the surge that bathes thy foot. If ever it has wash'd our distant shore. I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears, A patriot's for his country : thou art sad At thought of her forlorn and abject state. From which no power of thine can raise her up. Thus Fancy paints thee, and, though apt to err. Perhaps errs little when she paints thee thus. She tells me, too, that duly every morn Thou climb' st the mountain top, with eager eye Exploring far and wide the watery waste For sight of ship from England. Every speck 'J' HE SOFA. 39 Seen in the dim liorizon turns thee pale With conflict of contending hopes and fears But comes at hist the dull and dusk}' eve. And sends thee to thy caLin, well prepared To dream all night of what the day denied. Alas ! expect it not. We found no bait ' ^' '' - v''^---■p^' To tempt ns in thy country. Doing , good, Disinterested good, is not our trade. We travel far, 'tis true, but not for nought ; ' .^ 40 THE TASK. And must be bribed to compass Earth again By other hopes and richer fruits than yours. But though true worth and virtue in the mild And genial soil of cultivated life Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there. Yet not in cities oft : in proud, and gay, And gain-devoted cities. Thither flow. As to a common and most noisome sewer. The dregs and feculence of every land. In cities foul example on most minds Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds. In gross and pamper'd cities, sloth and lust. And wantonness, and gluttonous excess. In cities vice is hidden with most ease. Or seen with least reproach ; and virtue, taught By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there Beyond the achievement of successful flight. I do confess them nurseries of the arts. In which they flourish most ; where, in the beams Of warm encouragement, and in the eye Of public note, they reach their perfect size. Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd The fairest capital of all the world, By riot and incontinence the worst. There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes THE SOFA. 4] A lucid mirror^ in which Nature sees All her reflected features. Bacon there Gives more than female beauty to a stone. And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips. Nor does the chisel occupy alone The powers of sculpture, but the style as much ; Each province of her art her equal care. With nice incision of her guided steel She ploughs a. brazen field, and clothes a soil So sterile with what charms soe'er she will, The richest scenery and the loveliest forms. Where finds Philosophy her eagle eye. With which she gazes at yon burning disk Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots ? In London : where her implements exact. With which she calculates, computes, and scans All distance, motion, magnitude, and now Measures an atom, and now girds a world ? In London. Where has commerce such a mart. So rich, so throng'd, so drain'd, and so supplied. As London — opulent, enlarged, and still Increasing London ? Babylon of old 42 . THE TASK. Not more the glory of the earth than she^ A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now. She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two, That so much beaaty would do well to purge ; And show this queen of cities, that so fair May yet be foul; so witty, yet not wise. It is not seemly, nor of good report. That she is slack in discipline ; more prompt To avenge than to prevent the breach of law : That she is rigid in denouncing death On petty robbers, and indulges life And liberty, and ofttimes honour too. To peculators of the public gold : That thieves at home must hang ; but he, that puts Into his overgorged and bloated purse The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes. Nor is it well, nor can it come to good. That, through profane and infidel contempt Of holy writ, she has presumed to annul And abrogate, as roundly as she may, The total ordinance and will of God ; Advancing fashion to the post of Truth, And centering all authority in modes And customs of her own, till sabbath I'ites THE SOFA. 43 Have dwindled into unrespected forms, And knees and hassocks are well nigh divorced. God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts That can alone make sweet the bitter draught That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threaten'd in the fields and groves ? Possess ye therefore, ye who, borne about In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue But that of idleness, and taste no scenes But such as art contrives, possess ye still Your element ; there only can ye shine ; There only minds like yours can do no harm. Our groves were planted to console at noon The pensive wanderer in their shades. At eve The moonbeam, sliding softly in between The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, Birds warbling all the music. We can spare The splendour of your lamps ; they but eclipse Our softer satelHte. Your songs confound Our more harmonious notes ; the thrush departs Scared, and the offended nightingale is mute. There is a pubhc mischief in your mirth ; It plagues your country. Folly such as yours, 44 THE TASK. Graced witli a sword, and woi-tliier of a fan, Has made, what enemies could ne'er have done, Our arch of empire, stedfast but foi' you, A mutilated structure, soon to fall. g.rg;ument. Reflections suggested by the conclusion of the former book — l^eace among the nations recom.- mended on the ground of their common fellowship in sorrow — Prodigies enumerated — SiciUan earth- quakes — Man rendered obnoxious to these calamities by sin— God the agent in them— The philosophy that stops at secondary causes reproved Our own late miscarriages accounted for— Satirical notice taken of our trips to Fontaiobleau— But the pulpit, not satire, the proper engine of reformation— The reverend ad- vertiser of engraved sermons— Petit- maitre pai'son — The good preacher — Picture of a theatrical clerical coxcomb — Story-tellers and jesters in the pulpit re- proved — Apostrophe to popular applause - Retailers of ancient philosophy expostulated with- Sum of the whole matter — Effects of sacerdotal mismanagement on the laity — Their folly and extravagance— The mis- chiefs of profusion — Profusion itself, with all its con- sequent evils, ascribed, as to its principal cause, to the want of discipline in the universities. Oh for a lodge m some vast wilderness, Some boundless contig'uity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit. Of unsuccessful or successful war, 48 THE TASK. Might never reach me more ! My ear is pain'd, My soul is sick, with every day's report Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fiU'd. There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart. It does not feel for man ; the natural bond Of brotherhood is sever' d as the flax That falls asunder at the touch of fire. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not colour'd like his own ; and, having power To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. Lands intersected by a narrow frith Abhor each other. Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else Like kindred drops been mingled into one. Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; And, worse than all, and most to be deplored. As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat. With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart. Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this. And having human feelings, does not blush. And hang his head, to think himself a man ? I would not have a slave to till my ground. THE TIME-PIECE. 49 To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd, No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's Just estimation prized above all price, I had much rather be myself the slave, Aud wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. We have no slaves at home : — then why abroad ? And they themselves, once ferried o'er the wave That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs Eeceive our air, that moment they are free; They touch our country, and their shackles fall. That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then. And let it circulate through every vein Of all your empire ; that where Britain's power Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. Sure there is need of social intercourse. Benevolence, and peace, and mutual aid,' Between the nations in a world that seems To toll the death-bell of its own decease, And by the voice of all its elements To preach the general doom .* When were the winds * Alluding to the calamities in Jamaica. I 50 THE TASK. Let slip with sucli a warrant to destroy ? When did the waves so haughtily o'erleap Their ancient barriers, deluging the dry ? Fires from beneath, and meteors * from above, Portentous, unexampled, unexplain'd. Have kindled beacons in the skies ; and the old And crazy earth has had her shaking fits More frequent, and foregone her usual rest. Is it a time to wrangle, when the props And pillars of our planet seem to fail, And Nature t with a dim and sickly eye To wait the close of all? But grant her end More distant, and that prophecy demands A longer respite, unaccomplished yet ; Still they are frowning signals, and bespeak Displeasure in his breast who smites the earth Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice. And ^t is but seemly, that, where all deserve And stand exposed by common peccancy To what no few have felt, there should be peace. And brethren in calamity should love. Alas for Sicily! rude fragments now Lie scatter'd where the shapely column stood. » August 18, 1783. f Alluding to the fog that covered Europe and Asia during the sununer of 1783. THE TIME-PIECE. 51 Her palaces are dust. In all her streets Tlie vuice of singing and the sprightly chc>rd Are silent. Kevelry, and dance, and show Sutter a syncope and suleniu pause; While God pert\irms upon the trembling stage Of his own works his dreadful part alone. 52 THE TASK. How does the earth receive him ? — with what signs Of gratulation and delight, her King ? Pours she not all her choicest fruits abroad. Her sweetest flowers, her aromatic gums, Disclosing Paradise where'er he treads ? She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb. Conceiving thunders, through a'thousand deeps And fiery caverns, roars beneath his foot. The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke. For he has toucli'd them. From the extremest point Of elevation down into the abj'ss, His wrath is busy, and his frown is felt. The rocks fall headlong, and the vallej's rise, The rivers die into offensive pools, And, charged with putrid verdure, breathe a gross And mortal nuisance into all the air. What solid was, by transformation strange, Grows fluid; and the fix'd and rooted earth. Tormented into billows, heaves and swells. Or with vortiginous and hideous whirl Sucks down its prey insatiable. Immense The tumult and the overthrow, the pangs And agonies of human and of brute Multitudes, fugitive on every side, And fugitive in vain. The sylvan scene THE TIME-PIECE. 53 Migrates uplifted ; and, with all its soil Alighting in far distant fields, finds out A new possessor, and survives the change. Ocean has caught the frenzy, and, upwrought To an enormous and o'erbearing height. Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, Upbridged so high, and sent on such a charge, Possessed an inland scene. AVhere now the throng That press'd the beach, and, hasty to depart, Look'd to the sea for safety ? They are gone. Gone with the refluent wave into the deep — - A prince with half his people ! Ancient towers, And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes Where beauty oft and letter'd worth consume Life in the unproductive shades of death. Fall prone : the pale inhabitants come forth. And, happy in their unforeseen release From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy The terrors of the day that sets them free. Who then, that has thee, would not hold thee fast, Freedom ! whom they that lose thee so regret, That e'en a judgment, making way for thee. Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake. 54 THE TASK. Such evil sin hath wrought ; and such a flame Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth. And, in the furious inquest that it makes On God's behalf, lays waste his fairest works. The very elements, though each be meant The minister of man, to serve his wants. Conspire against him. With his breath he draws A plague into his blood ; and cannot use Life's necessary means, but he must die. Storms rise to o'erwhelm him ; ,or if stormy winds Rise not, the waters of the deep shall rise. And, needing none assistance of the storm. Shall roll themselves ashore, and reach hirn there. The earth shall shake him out of all his holds, Or make his house his grave : nor so content. Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood. And drown him in her dry and dusty gulfs. What then ! — -were they the wicked above all. And we the righteous, whose fast-anchor'd isle Moved not, while theirs was rock'd, like a light skiff. The sport of every wave ? No : none are clear. And none than we more guilty. But, where all Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose his mark : May punish, if he please, the less, to warn THE TIME-PIECE. 55 The more malignant. If he spared not them, Tremble and be amazed at thine escape. Far guiltier England, lest he spare not thee ! Happy the man who sees a God employ^ In all the good and ill that chequer life ! Resolving all events, with their effects And manifold results, into the will And arbitration wise of the Supreme. Did not his eye I'ule all things, and intend The least of our concerns (since from the least The greatest oft originate) ; could chance Find place in his dominion, or dispose One lawless particle to thwart his plan ; Then God might be surprised, and unforeseen Contingence might alarm him, and disturb' The smooth and equal course of his affairs. This truth Philosophy, though eagle-eyed In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks ; And, having found his instrument, forgets. Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still. Denies the power that wields it. God proclaims His hot displeasure against foolish men, That live an atheist life : involves the heaven In tempests ; quits his grasp upon the winds, And gives them all their fury ; bids a plague 56 THE TASK. Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin^ And putrefy the breath of blooming Health. He calls for Famine, and the meagre fiend Blows mildew from between his shrivell'd lips. And taints the golden ear. He springs his mines, And desolates a nation at a blast. Forth steps the spruce philosopher, and tells Of homogeneal and discordant springs And principles ; of causes, how they work By necessary laws their sure effects ; Of action and reaction. He has found The source of the disease that nature feels, And bids the world take heart and banish fear. Thou fool ! will thy discovery of the cause Suspend the effect, or heal it ? Has not God Still wrought by means since first he made the world ? And did he not of old employ his means To drown it ? What is his creation less Than a capacious reservoir of means Form'd for his use, and ready at his will? Go, dress thine eyes with eye-salve ; ask of him, Or ask of whomsoever he has taught ; And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all. England, with all thy faults, I love thee still — My country ! and, while yet a nook is left THE TIME-PIECE. 57 Where English minds and manners may be found. Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year most part deform'd With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost, I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies. 68 THE TASK. With all her vines ; nor for Ausonia's groves Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers. To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire Upon thy foes, was never meant my task : But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart As any thunderer there. And I can feel Thy follies too ; and with a just disdain Frown at effeminates, whose very looks Eeflect dishonour on the land I love. How, in the name of soldiership and sense. Should England prosper, when such things, as smooth And tender as a girl, all-essenced o'er With odours, and as profligate as sweet; Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath. And love when they should fight ; when such as these Presume to lay their hand upon the ark Of her magnificent and awful cause ? Time was when it was praise and boast enough In every clime, and travel where we might. That we were born her children. Praise enough To fill the ambition of a private man. That Chatham's language was his mother tongue. And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own. ■hip: time-piece. 59 Farewell tliosc hononi-s, and farewell with tlieni 'J'lie liope of such lieveafter ! Tliey Lave fallen Eaeli ill liis field of glory ; one in anus, And one in couneil — Wolfe npon tlie lap Of smiling- Yietorv that moment won, And Chatham heart-siek (jf his coiinti-y's shame ! Tliey made us many soldiers. Chatham, still Consulting- England's happiness at home. Secured it by an unforgiving fiMwii, If any wrong'd lier. Wolfe, where'er he fought. Put so much of his lieart into his act, 'J'hat his example had a magnet's force. And all were swift to follow whom all loved. Those suns are set. Oh rise some other such ! Or all that we have left is empty talk Of old achievements and despair of new. 60 THE TASK. Now hoist the sail^ and let the streamers float Upon the wanton breezes. Strew the deck With lavender, and sprinkle liquid sweets, That no rude savour maritime invade The nose of nice nobility ! Breathe soft, Ye clarionets ; and softer still, ye flutes ; That winds and waters, luU'd by magic sounds. May bear us smoothly to the Gallic shore ! True, we have lost an empire — let it pass. True ; we may thank the perfidy of France, That picked the jewel out of England's crown. With all the cunning of an envious shrew. And let that pass^'t was but a trick of state ! A brave man knows no malice, but at once Forgets in peace the injuries of war. And gives his direst foe a friend's embrace. And, shamed as we have been, to the very beard Braved and defied, and in our own sea proved Too weak for those decisive blows that once Ensured us mastery there, we yet retain Some small pre-eminence ; we justly boast At least superior jockeyship, and claim The honours of the turf as all our own ! Go then, well worthy of the praise ye seek, And show the shame ye might conceal at home THE TIME-PIECE. 61 In foreign eyes ! — be grooms and win the plate. Where once your nobler fathers won a crown ! — ' 'Tis generous to communicate your skill To those that need it ! Folly is soon learnM : And under such preceptors who can fail ! There is a pleasure in poetic pains Which only poets know. The shifts and turns, The expedients and inventions multiform, To which the mind resorts, in chase of terms Though apt, yet coy, and difficult to win — To arrest the fleeting images that fill The mirror of the mind, and hold them fast, And force them sit till he has pencill'd off A faithful likeness of the forms he views : Then to dispose his copies with such art. That each may find its most propitious light. And shine by situation, hardly less Than by the labour and the skill it cost ; Are occupations of the poet's mind So pleasing, and that steal away the thought With such address from themes of sad import. That, lost in his own musings, happy man ! He feels the anxieties of life, denied Their wonted entertainment, all retire. Such joys has he that sings. But ah ! not such. 62 THE TASK. Or seldom such, the hearers of his song. Fastidious, or else listless, or perhaps Aware of nothing arduous in a task They never undertook, they little note His dangers or escapes, and haply find Their least amusement where he found the most. But is amusement all ? Studious of song, And yet ambitious not to sing in vain, I would not trifle merely, though the world Be loudest in their praise who do no more. Yet what can satire, whether grave or gay ? It may correct a foible, may chastise The freaks of fashion, regulate the dress, Eetrench a sword-blade, or displace a patch ; But where are its sublimer trophies found ? What vice has it subdued? whose heart reclaim' d By rigour? or whom laugli'd into reform? Alas ! Leviathan is not so tamed : Laugh'd at, he laughs again ; and, stricken hard. Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales. That fear no discipline of human hands. The pulpit, therefore, (and I name it fiU'd With solemn awe, that bids me well beware With what intent I touch that holy thing) — The pulpit (when the satirist has at last. THE TIME-riECE. 63 Strutting aud vapouring in an empty school, Spent all his force, and made no proselyte) — I say the pulpit (in the sober use Of its legitimate, peculiar powers) Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand. The most important and effectual guard, Support, and ornament of Virtue's cause. There stands the messenger (jf truth : there stauds The legate of the skies ! — His tlienie divine, His office sacred, his credentials clear. By him the violated law speaks out 64 THE TASK. Its thunders ; and by hinij in strains as sweet As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace. He stablishes the strong, restores the weak, Eeclaims the wanderer, binds the broken heart. And, arm'd himself in panoply complete Of heavenly temper, furnishes with arms Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule Of holy discipline, to glorious war. The sacramental host of God's elect ! Are all such teachers ? — ^would to heaven all were ! But hark — the doctor's voice ! — fast wedged between Two empirics he stands, and with swoln cheeks Inspires the news, his trumpet. Keener far Than all invective is his bold harangue. While through that public organ of report He hails the clergy; and, defying shame. Announces to the world his own and theirs ! He teaches those to read, whom schools dismiss' d. And colleges, untaught; sells accent, tone. And emphasis in score, and gives to prayer The adagio and andante it demands. He grinds divinity of other days Down into modern use ; transforms old print To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes Of gallery critics by a thousand arts. THE TIME-PIECE. 65 Are there who purchase of the doctor's ware ? Ohj name it not in Gath ! — it cannot be. That grave and learned clerks should need such aid. He doubtless is in sport, and does but droll. Assuming thus a rank unknown before — Grand caterer and drynurse of the church ! I venerate the man whose heart is warm. Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause. To such I render more than mere respect,. Whose actions say that they respect themselves. But loose in morals, and in manners vain, In conversation frivolous, in dress Extreme, at once lapacious and profuse ; Frequent in park with lady at his side, Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes ; But rare at home, and never at his books. Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card ; Constant at routs, familiar with a round Of ladyships — a stranger to the poor ; Ambitious of preferment for its gold, And well prepared, by ignorance and sloth, By infidelity and love of world, d^o make God's work a sinecure ; a slave 66 THE TASK. To his own pleasures, and his patron's pride : From such apostles, ye mitred heads. Preserve the church ! and lay not careless hands On skulls that cannot teach, and will not learn. Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own- Paul should himself direct me. I would trace His master-strokes, and draw from his design. I would express him simple, grave, sincere; In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain. And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste. And natural in gesture ; much impress'd Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too ; affectionate in look. And tender in address, as well becomes A. messenger of grace to guilty men. Behold the picture ! Is it like ? — Like whom ? The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, And then skip down again ; pronounce a text ; Cry — ^hem ; and reading what they never wrote. Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene ! In man or woman, but far most in man. And most of all in man that ministers THE TIME-PIECE. 67 And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn; Object of my implacable disgust. What ! — will a man play tricks? will he indulge A silly fond conceit of his fair form, And just proportion, fashionable mien, And pretty face, in presence of his God? Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes, As with the diamond on his lily hand. And play his brilliant parts before my eyes. When I am hungry for the bread of life ? He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames His noble office, and, instead of truth, Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock ! Therefore, avaunt all attitude, and stare. And start theatric, practised at the glass ! I seek divine simplicity in him Who handles things divine ; and all besides. Though learn'd with labour, and though much admired By curious eyes and judgments ill inform'd, To me is odious as the nasal twang Heard at conventicle, where worthy men. Misled by custom, strain celestial themes Through the press'd nostril, spectacle-bestrid. Some, decent in demeanour while they preach. 68 THE TASK. That task perform'd, relapse into themselves ; And, having spoken wisely, at the close Grow wanton, and give proof to every eye. Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not ! Forth comes the pocket mirror.— Fir^t we stroke An eyebrow ; next compose a straggling lock ; Then with an air most gracefully perform'd Fall back into our seat, extend an arm, And lay it at its ease with gentle care, With handkerchief in hand depending low : The better hand more busy gives the nose Its bergamot, or aids the indebted eye With opera glass, to watch the moving scene, And recognise the slow-retiring fair. — Now this is fulsome ; and offends me more Than in a churchman slovenly neglect And rustic coarseness would. A heavenly mind May be indifferent to her house of clay. And slight the hovel as beneath her care ; But how a body so fantastic, trim. And quaint in its deportment and attire. Can lodge a heavenly mind— demands a doubt. He that negotiates between God and man. As God's ambassador, the grand concerns Of judgment and of mercy, should beware THE TIME-PIECE. 69 Of HgMness in his speech. 'Tis pitiful To court a griU;, when you should woo a soul ; To break a jest, when pity would inspire Pathetic exhortation ; and to address The skittish fancy with facetious taleSj When sent with God's commission to the heart ! So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip Or merry turn in all he ever wrote, And I consent you take it for your text^ Your only one, till sides and benches fail. No : he was serious in a serious cause, And understood too well the weighty terms That he had taken ia charge. He woulcf not stoop To conquer those by jocular exploits, Whom truth and soberness assaiFd in vain. popular applause ! what heart of man Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms ? The wisest and the best feel urgent need Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales ; But, swelled into a gust — who then, alas ! With all his canvas set, and inexpert. And therefore heedless, can withstand thy power ? Praise, from the riveFd lips of toothless, bald Decrepitude, and in the looks of lean And craving Poverty, and in the bow 70 THE TASK. Respectful of the smatch'd artificer. Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb The bias of the purpose. How much more, Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite, In language soft as Adoration breathes ? Ah, spare your idol ! think him human still. Charms he may have, but he has frailties too ! Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire. All truth is from the sempiternal source Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome Drew from the stream below. More favour\l, we Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain-head. To them it flow'd much mingled and defiled With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams Illusive of philosophy, so-call'd, But falsely. Sages after sages strove In vain to filter off a crystal draught Pure from the lees, which often more enhanced The thirst than slaked it, and not seldom bred Intoxication and delirium wild. In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth And spring-time of the world j ask'd, Whence is man? Why form'd at all ? and wherefore as he is ? Where must he find his Maker ? with what rites Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and bless? THE TIME-PIECE. Or does he sit regardless of his works ? Has man within him an immortal seed ? Or does the tomb take all ? If he survive His asheSj where? and in what weal or woe ? Knots worthy of solution, which alone A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague And all at random, fabulous, and dark, Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life, Defective and unsanction'd, proved too weak To bind the roving appetite, and lead Blind nature to a God not yet reveaFd. 'T is Revelation satisfies all doubts, Explains all mysteries, except her own, And so illuminates the path of life. That fools discover it, and stray no more. Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir. My man of morals, nurtured in the shades Of Academus — is this false or true ? Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schools ? If Christ, then why resort at every turn To Athens or to Eome, for wisdom short Of man's occasions, when in him reside Grace, knowledge, comfort — an unfathom'd store? How oft, when Paul has served us with a text, Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preach'd ! THE TASK. Men that, if now alive, would sit content And humble learners of a Saviour's worth. Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth, Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too ! And thus it is. — The pastor, either vain By nature, or by flattery made so, taught To gaze at his own splendour, and to exalt Absurdly not his oflice, but himself; Or unenlighten'd, and too proud to learn ; Or vicious, and not therefore apt to teach ; Perverting often, by the stress of lewd And loose example, whom he should instruct ; Exposes, and holds up to broad disgrace The noblest function, and discredits much The brightest truths that man has ever seen. For ghostly counsel — if it either fall Below the exigence, or be not back'd With show of love, at least with hopeful proof Of some sincerity on the giver's part ; Or be dishonour'd in the exterior form And mode of its conveyance by such tricks. As move derision, or by foppish airs And histrionic mummery, that let down The pulpit to the level of the stage — Drops from the lips a disregarded thing. THE TIME-FIECE. 73 The weak perhaps are moved, but are not taught. While prejudice in men of stronger minds Takes deeper root, confirm'd by what they see. A relaxation of religion's hold Upon the roving and mi tutor' d heart Soon follows, and, the curb of conscience snapp'd. The laity run wild. — But do they now ? Note their extravagance, and be convinced. As nations, ignorant of God, contrive A wooden one, so we, no longer taught By monitors that mother church supplies, Now make our own. Posterity will ask (If e'er posterity see verse of mine) Some fifty or a hundred lustrums hence, What was a monitor in George's days ? My very gentle reader, yet unborn, Of whom I needs must augur better things. Since Heaven would sure grow weary of a world Productive only of a race like ours, A monitor is wood — plank-shaven thin. We wear it at our backs. There, closely braced And neatly fitted, it compresses hard The prominent and most unsightly bones. And binds the shoulders flat. We prove its use Sovereign and most efiectual to secure 74 THE TASK. A fornij not now gymnastic as of yore, From rickets and distortion, else our lot. But, thus admonish.' dj we can walk erect — ■ One proof at least of manhood ! while the friend Sticks close, a Mentor worthy of his charge. Our habits, costlier than Lticullus wore, And by caprice as multiplied as his. Just please us while the fashion is at full. But change with every moon. The sycophant Who waits to dress us arbitrates their date ; Surveys his fair reversion with keen eye ; Finds one ill made, another obsolete. This fits not nicely, that is ill conceived : And making prize of all that he condemns. With our expenditure defrays his own. Variety 's the. very spice of life, That gives it all its ilavour. We have run Through every change that Fancy, at the loom Exhausted, has had genius to supply ; And, studious of mutation still, discard A real elegance, a little used, For monstrous novelty and strange disguise. We sacrifice to dress, till household joys And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry. And keeps our larder lean ; puts out our fires ; THE TJME-PIECE. 75 And introduces tunger^ frost, and woe. Where peace and hospitality might reign. What man that lives, and that knows how to live, Would fail to exhibit at the public shows A form as splendid as the proudest there. Though appetite raise outcries at the cost? A man of the town dines late, but soon enough. With reasonable forecast and dispatch. To insure a side-box station at half-price. You think, perhaps, so delicate his dress. His daily fare as delicate. Alas ! He picks clean teeth, and, busy as he seems With an old tavern quill, is hungry yet ! 'J'lie rout is Folly's circle, which she draws With magic wand. So potent is the spell, That none, decoy'd into that fatal ring, Unless by Heaven's peculiar grace, escape. There we grow early gray, but never wise ; There form connexions, but acquire no friend; Solicit pleasure, hopeless of success ; Waste youth in occupations only fit For second childhood, and devote old age To sports which only childhood could excuse. There they are happiest who dissemble best Their weariness ; and they the most polite. 7(j THE TASK. W ho squander tiiiiL' aud treasure with a suule, Tliuugh at their o^YIl destruction. She that asks Her dear iive hundred friends contemns them all, And hates tlieir coming, They (what can they less?) I\rake just reprisals : and, with erinq-e and sliruo-, Aud bow obsequious, hide tlieir hate of her. All catch the frenzy, downward from her grace, Whose flambeaux flash against the morning- skies. And gild our chanifier ceilings as tliey pa ; ami the spaiiLi'led beaUj Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long. All plants, I'f every leaf that eau endure The winter's iVuwn, it' sereen'd from his shrewd bite, Live there, and pros}ier. Those Ausonia elaims, Levantine regions these; the Azores send Their jessamine, her jessamine remote Caffraria ; foreigners from manv lands, They form fjne social shade, as if convened By mao-ie summons of the Orphean Ivre. 114 THE TASK. Yet just arrangement^ rarely brought to pass But by a master's hand, disposing well The gay diversities of leaf and flower, Must lend its aid to illustrate all their charms, And dress the regular yet various scene. Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van The dwarfish, in the rear retired, but still Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. So once were ranged the sons of ancient Rome, A noble show ! while Roscius trod the stage ; And so, while Garrick, as renown'd as he. The sons of Albion j fearing each to lose Some note of Nature's music from his lips. And covetous of Shakspeare's beauty, seen In every flash of his far-beaming eye. Nor taste alone and well-contrived display Suffice to give the marshall'd ranks the grace Of their complete effect. Much yet remains Unsung, and many cares are yet behind, And more laborious ; cares on which depends Their vigour, injured soon, not soon restored. The soil must be renew'd, which often wash'd. Loses its treasure of salubrious salts, And disappoints the roots ; the slender roots Close interwoven, where they meet the vase. THE GARDEN. 115 Must smooth be shorn away ; the sapless branch Must fly before the knife ; the withered leaf Must be detachMj and where it strews the floor, Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else Contagion, and disseminating death. Discharge but these kind offices (and who Would spare, that loves them, offices like these ?) Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleased, The scent regaled ; each odoriferous leaf. Each opening blossom, freely breathes abroad Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets. So manifold, all pleasing in their kind. All healthful, are the employs of rural life. Reiterated as the wheel of time Runs round ; still ending and beginning still. Nor are these all. To deck the shapely knoll. That softly swell'd and gaily dress'd appears, A flowery island, from the dark green lawn Emerging, must be deem'd a labour due To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste. Here also grateful mixture of well match'd And sorted hues, (each giving each relief. And by contrasted beauty shining more,) Is needful. Strength may wield the ponderous spade. May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home ; 116 THE TASK. But elegance, chief grace the garden shows. And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polish'd mind. Without it all is gothic as the scene To which the insipid citizen resorts Near yonder heath ; where Industry misspent. But proud of his uncouth ill-chosen task. Has made a heaven on earth ; with suns and moons Of close ramm''d stones has charged the encumber'd soil^ And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust. He therefore, who would see his flowers disposed Sightly and in just order, ere he gives The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds. Forecasts the future whole ; that when the scene Shall break into its preconceived display. Each for itself, and all as with one voice Conspiring, may attest his bright design. Nor even then, dismissing as perform^'d His pleasant work, may he suppose it done. Few self-supported flowers endure the wind Uninjured, but expect the upholding aid Of the smooth shaven prop, and, neatly tied. Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age, For interest sake, the living to the dead. THE GARDEN. 117 Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffused And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair. Like virtue, thriving most where little seen ; Some, more aspiring, catch the neighbour shrub With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch. Else unadorn'd, with many a gay festoon And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well The strength they borrow with the grace they lend. All hate the rank society of weeds. Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust The impoverish'd earth ; an overbearing race, That, like the multitude made faction-mad. Disturb good order, and degrade true worth, blest seclusion from a jarring world. Which he, thus occupied, enjoys ! Retreat Cannot indeed to guilty man restore Lost innocence, or cancel follies past ; But it has peace, and much secures the mind From all assaults of evil ; proving still A faithful barrier, not o'erleap'd with ease By vicious Custom, raging uncontroll'd Abroad, and desolating public life. When fierce temptation, seconded within By traitor Appetite, and arm'd with darts 118 THE TASK. Temper'd in Hell, invades the throbbing breast. To combat may be glorious, and success Perhaps may crown us ; but to fly is safe. Had I the choice of sublunary good. What could I wish that I possess not here ? Health, leisure, means to improve it, friendship, peace. No loose or wanton, though a wandering, muse. And constant occupation without care. Thus blest, I draw a picture of that bliss ; Hopeless, indeed, that dissipated minds. And profligate abusers of a world Created fair so much in vain for them. Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe. Allured by my report : but sure no less That self-condemn'd they must neglect the prize, And what they will not taste must yet approve. What we admire we praise ; and, when we praise, Advance it into notice, that, its worth Acknowledged, others may admire it too. I therefore recommend, though at the risk Of popular disgust, yet boldly still. The cause of piety and sacred truth. And virtue, and those scenes which God ordain'd Should best secure them and promote them most. THE GAEDE^^ 119 Scenes that I love, and ivitli regret perceive Forsaken, or throngt follv not enjoy'd. Pure is the nymph, thongh Kberal of her smiles^ And chaste, thongh nnconfined, whom I extol. Xot as the prince in Shnshan, when he call'd. Vainglorious of her charms, his Vashti forth. To grace the full pavilion. His design Was but to boast his own peculiar good, Which all might view with envy, none partake. My charmer is not mine alone ; my sweets. And she that sweetens all my bitters too, ^JTatore, enchanting Xatnre, in whose form And lineaments divine I trace a hand That errs not, and find raptures still renewed. Is iree to aU men — ^universal prize. Strange that so fair a creature should yet want Admirers, and be destined to divide With meaner objects e'en the few she finds ! Stripp'd of her ornaments, her leaves, and flowers. She loses all her influence. Cities then Attract us. and neglected Nature pines, Abandon'd as unworthy of our love. But are not wholesome airs, though unperfbmed By roses ; and clear suns, though scarcely felt ; 120 THE TASK. ~ y' And grovcS; if inliarmonious^ yet secure From clamour^ and whose very silence charms ; To be preferred to snioke^ to tlie eclipse That metropolitan volcanoes make. Whose Stj'gian throats breathe darkness all day long ; And to the stir of commerce, driving slow, And thundering loud, with his ten thousand wheels? They would be, were not madness in the head, And folly in the heart; were England now THE GARDEN. 121 What England was, plain^ hospitable, kind, And undebauch'd. But we have bid farewell To all the virtues of those better days. And all their honest pleasures. Mansions once Knew their own masters ; and laborious hinds. Who had survived the father, served the son. Now the legitimate and rightful lord Is but a transient guest, newly arrived, And soon to be supplanted. He that saw His patrimonial timber cast its leaf. Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again. Estates are landscapes, gazed upon awhile. Then advertised, and auctioneered away. The country starves, and they that feed the o'ercharged And surfeited lewd town with her fair dues. By a just judgment strip and starve themselves. The wings, that waft our riches out of sight, Grow on the gamester's elbows ; and the alert And nimble motion of those restless joints. That never tire, soon fans them all away. Improvement too, the idol of the age. Is fed with many a victim. Lo, he comes ! The omnipotent magician. Brown, appears ! Down falls the venerable pile, the abode 122 THE TASK. Of our forefathers — a grave whisker'd race, But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead, But in a distant spot ; where more exposed It may enjoy the advantage of the north, And aguish east, till time shall have transform' d Those naked acres to a sheltering grove. He speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn ; Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise ; And streams, as if created for his use. Pursue the track of his directing wandj Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now slow. Now murmuring soft, now roaring in cascades — E'en as he bids ! The enraptured owner smiles. ■"T is finish' d, and yet, finish'd as it seems. Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could show^ A mine to satisfy the enormous cost. Drain'd to the last poor item of his wealth. He sighs, departs, and leaves the accompHsh'd planj That he has touch' d, retouch' d, many a long day Labour'd, and many a night pursued in dreams. Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the heaven He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy ! And now perhaps the glorious hour is come. When, having no stake left, no pledge to endear Her interests, or that gives her sacred cause THE GARDEN. 123 A moment's operation on his love. He burns with most intense and flagrant zeal To serve his country. Ministerial grace Deals him out money from the public chest ; Or, if that mine be shut, some private purse Supplies his need with a usurious loan, To be refunded duly, when his vote Well managed shall have earned its worthy price. innocent, compared with arts like these. Crape, and cock'd pistol, and the whistling ball Sent through the traveller's temples.! He that finds One drop of Heaven's sweet mercy in his cup, Can die, beg, rot, and perish, well content. So he may wrap himself in honest rags At his last gasp ; but could not for a world Fish up his dirty and dependent bread From pools and ditches of the commonwealth. Sordid and sickening at his own success. Ambition, avarice, penury incurr'd By endless riot, vanity, the lust Of pleasure and variety, dispatch. As duly as the swallows disappear. The world of wandering knights and squires to town. London ingulfs them all ! The shark is there. And the shark's prey ; the spendthrift, and the leech 124 THE TASK. That sucks him ; there the sycophant, and he Who, with bareheaded and obsequious bows, Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold jail And groat per diem, if his patron frown. The levee swarms, as if in golden pomp Were character'd on every statesman's door, " Battee'd and bankrupt foetunes mended heee." These are the charms that sully and eclipse The charms of nature. 'T is the cruel gripe That lean, hard-handed Poverty infficts, The hope of better, things, the chance to win, The wish to shine, the thirst to be amused. That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing Unpeople all our counties of such herds Of fluttering, loitering, cringing, begging, loose, And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast And boundless as it is, a crowded heap. thou, resort and mart of all the earth, Chequer'd with all complexions of mankind. And spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see Much that I love, and more that I admire. And all that I abhor; thou freckled fair, That pleasest and yet shock' st me, I can laugh, And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee ! THE GARDEN. ]2-' Ten righteous would have saved a city once, And thou hast many righteous. — Well for thee — That salt jn-eserves thee ; more corrupted else, And therefore more ohnoxious, at this hour, Than Sodom in her day had power to he, For whom God heard his Abraham plead in vain. — ^ (D O) CO CL (Ji CQ Tl (Q CD f^t^ %hj Mintcr 6i)cniuf Haek ! ^tis the twanging lioru o'er yonJei- bridge. That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected Li-ight ; — 130 THE TASK. He comes, the herald of a noisy world, With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks j News from all nations lumbering at his back. True to his charge, the close-pack' d load behind. Yet, careless what he brings, his one concern Is to conduct it to the destined inn ; And, having dropp'd the expected bag, pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch. Cold and yet cheerful ; messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ; To him indifferent whether grief or joy. Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks. Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet With tears, that trickled down the writer's cheeks Fast as the periods from his fluent quill. Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains. Or nymph responsive, equally affect His horse and him, unconscious of them all. But the important budget ! usher'd in With such heart- shaking music, who can say What are its tidings ? have our troops awaked ? Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd. Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave ? Is India free ? and does she wear her plumed And jewell'd turban with a smile of peace, THE WINTEE EVENING. 131 Or do we grind her still ? The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply. The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, And the loud laugh — I long to know them all ; I burn to set the imprison'd wranglers free. And give them voice and utterance once again. Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast. Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups. That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each. So let us welcome peaceful evening in. Not such his evening, who with shining face Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeezed And bored with elbow points through both his sides, Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage : Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb, And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage. Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles. This folio of four pages, happy work ! Which not e'en critics criticise ; that holds Inquisitive attention, while I read. Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair. Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break ; 132 TUE TASK. What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns ? Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge That tempts Ambition. On the summit see The seals of office glitter in his eyes ; He climbs, he pants, he grasps them ! At his heels, Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends. And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down. And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. Here rills of oily eloquence in soft Meanders lubricate the course they take ; The modest speaker is ashamed and grieved To engross a moment's notice ; and yet begs. Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts. However trivial all that he conceives. Sweet bashfulness ! it claims at least this praise ; The dearth of information and good sense. That it foretells us, always comes to pass. Cataracts of declamation thunder here ; There forests of no meaning spread the page, In which all coinprehension wanders lost ; While fields of pleasantry amuse us there, With merry descants on a nation's woes. The rest appears a wilderness of strange But gay confusion ; roses for the cheeks THE WINTER EVENING. 133 And lilies for the brows of faded age. Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald. Heaven, earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweets, Nectareous essences, Olympian dews, Sermons, and city feasts, and favourite airs, Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits. And Katerfelto, with his hair on end At his own wonders, wondering for his bread. 'T is pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world ; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; To hear the roar she sends through all her gates At a safe distance, where the dying sound Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear. Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease The globe and its concerns, I seem advanced To some secure and more than mortal height. That liberates and exempts me from them all. It turns submitted to my view, turns round With all its generations ; I behold The tumult, and am still. The sound of war Has lost its terrors ere it reaches me ; Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride And avarice that make man a wolf to man ; Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats, 134 THE TASK. By which he speaks the language of his heart. And sigh, but never tremble at the sound. He travels and expatiates, as the bee From flower to flower, so he from land to land ; The manners, customs, pohcy of all Pay contribution to the store he gleans ; He sucks intelligence in every clime. And spreads the honey of his deep research At his return — a rich repast for me. He travels, and I too. I tread his deck. Ascend his topmast. Through his peering eyes Discover countries, with a kindred heart SuSer his woes, and share in his escapes ; While fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home. Winter, ruler of the inverted year. Thy scatter'd hair with sleet like ashes fill^'d. Thy breath congeard upon thy lips, thy cheeks Fringed with a beard made white with other snows Than those of age, thy forehead wrapp'd in clouds, A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne A sliding car, indebted to no wheels. But urged by storms along its slippery way. I love thee, all unlovelj' as thou seem'st. And dreaded as thou art ! Thou hold'st the sun THE WINTEE ETENING. 13.: A prisoner in the yet undawning east. Shortening his journey between mom and noon. And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still Compensating his loss with added hours Of social converse, and instructive ease. And gathering, at short notice, in one group The family dispersed, and fixing thought, Not less dispersed by daylight and its cares. I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness. And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed Eetirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening know. No rattling wheels stop short before these gates j No powder'd pert proficient in the art Of sounding an alarm assaults these doors Till the street rings ; no stationary steeds Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound. The silent circle fan themselves, and quake : But here the needle plies its busy task. The pattern grows, the well depicted flower. Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn. Unfolds its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs. And curling tendrils, gracefully disposed. 136 THE TASK. Follow the nimble finger of the fair ; A wreath that cannot fade^ of flowers that blow With most success when all besides decay. The poet's or historian's page by one Made vocal for the amusement of the rest ; The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out ; And the clear voice, symphonious, yet distinct. And in the charming strife triumphant still. Beguile the night, and set a keener edge On female industry ; the threaded steel Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds. The volume closed, the customary rites Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal. Such as the mistress of the world once found Delicious, when her patriots of high note. Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors. And under an old oak's domestic shade, Bnjoy'dj spare feast ! a radish and an egg ! Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull. Nor such as with a frown forbids the play Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth : Nor do we madly, like an impious world, Who deem religion frenzy, and the God That made them an intruder on their joys, THE WINTER EVENING. 137 Start at his awful namej or deem his praise A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone^ Exciting oft our gratitude and love, While we retrace with Memory's pointing wand. That calls the past to our exact review, The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare. The disappointed foe, deliverance found Unlook'd for, life preserved, and peace restored, Fruits of omnipotent eternal love. evenings worthy of the Gods ! exclaim' d The Sabine bard. evenings, I reply. More to be prized and coveted than yours, As more illumined, and with nobler truths. Than I, and mine, and those we love, enjoj^ Is Winter hideous in a garb like this ? Needs he the tragic fur, the smoke of lamps. The pent-up breath of an unsavoury throng, To thaw him into feeling ; or the smart And snappish dialogue, that flippant wits Call comedy, to prompt him with a smile ? The self-complacent actor, when he views (Stealing a sidelong glance at a full house) The slope of faces from the floor to the roof (As if one master spring controll'd them all,) Eelax'd into a universal grin. 138 THE TASK. Sees not a countenance there that speaks of joy Half so refined, or so sincere as ours. Cards were superfluous here^ with all the tricks That idleness lias ever yet contrived To fill the void of an unfurnish'd brain, To palliate dulness, and give time a shove. Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound ; But the World's time is time in masquerade ! Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged With motley plumes ; and, where the peacock shows His azure eyes, is tinctured black and red With spots quadrangular of diamond form, Bnsanguin'd hearts, clubs typical of strife. And- spades, the emblem of untimely graves. What should be, and what was an hourglass once. Becomes a dice-box, and a billiard mace Well does the work of his destructive scythe. Thus deck'd, he charms a world whom Fashion blinds To his true worth, most pleased when idle most; Whose only happy are their wasted hours. E'en misses at whose age their mothers wore The backstring and the bib, assume the dress Of womanhood, fit pupils in the school Of card-devoted Time, and, night by night. THE WINTER EVENING. 139 Placed at some vacant corner of the board, Learn every trick, and soon play all the game. But truce with censure. Roving as I rove. Where shall I find an end, or how proceed ? As he that travels far oft turns aside, To view some rugged rock or mouldering tower, Which seen, delights him not ; then, coming home, Describes and prints it, that the world may know How far he went for what was nothing worth ; So I, with brush in hand, and pallet spread With colours mix'd for a far different use, Paint cards, and dolls, and every idle thing That Fancy finds in her excursive flights. Come, Evening, once again, season of peace ; Return, sweet Evening, and continue long ! Methinks I see thee in the streaky west. With matron step slow moving, while the Xight Treads on thy sweeping train ; one hand employ 'd In letting fall the curtain of repose On bird and beast ; the other charged for man With sweet oblivion of the cares of day : Not sumptuously adorned, not needing aid. Like homely featured Night, of clustering gems ; A star or two, just twinkling on thy brow. Suffices thee ; save that the moon is thine 14U THE TASK. No less than hers^ not worn indeed on high With ostentations pageantry, Lut set With modest grandeur in thy purple zone, Resplendent less, but of an ampler round. Come then, and thou slialt find tliv votarv calm. Or make me so : composure is thv g-ift : And, whether I devote thy gentk' hours To books, to music, or the poet's toil : I'o weavino- nets for bird-allurino' fi-uit ; Or twining silken threads i-ound ivory reels. THE WINTEE ETENING. ]41 When they command whom man was born to please ; I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. Just when our drawing-rooms begin to blaze With lights, by clear reflection multiplied From many a mirror, in which he of Gath^ Goliath, might have seen his giant bulk Whole without stooping, towering crest and all, My pleasures too begin. But me perhaps The glowing hearth may satisfy awhile With faint illumination, that uplifts The shadows to the ceiling, there by fits Dancing uncouthly to the quivering flame. Not undelightful is an hour to me So spent in parlour twilight : sach a gloom Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind. The mind contemplative, with some new theme Pregnant, or indisposed alike to all. Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial powers. That never felt a stupor, know no pause. Nor need one ; I am conscious, and confess. Fearless, a soul that does not always think. Me oft has Fancy ludicrous and wild Soothed with a waking dream of houses, towers. Trees, churches, and strange visages, express'd In the red cinders, while with poring eye 142 THE TASK. I gazed, myself creating wliat I saw. Nor less amused, have I quiescent watcli'd The sooty films that play upon the bars, Pendulous and foreboding, in the view Of superstition, prophesying still. Though still deceived, some stranger's near approach. 'Tis thus the understanding takes repose In indolent vacuity of thought, And sleeps, and is refresh'd. Meanwhile the face Conceals the mood lethargic with a mask Of deep deliberation, as the man Were tasked to his full strength, absorb'd and lost. Thus oft, reclined at ease, I lose an hour At evening, till at length the freezing blast That sweeps the bolted shutter summons home The recollected powers ; and, snapping short The glassy threads with which the fancy weaves Her brittle toils, restores me to myself. How calm is my recess ; and how the frost, Eaging abroad, and the rough wind endear The silence and the warmth enjoy'd within ! I saw the woods and fields at close of day A variegated show j the meadows green. Though faded ; and the lands, where lately waved The golden harvests, of a mellow brown. THE WIKTEE E^^;XIXG. U"> n Upturn'd so lately liy tlic forceful iJiare. 1 saw far off tlie weedy fallows suiile AVitli verdure not unprijfitable, grazed Bv flocks^ fast feeding, and selecting cac His favourite herb ; while all the leafless That skirt the horizon, wore a sable hue, Scarce noticed in the kindred dusk of ev To-rnorrow brings a chanu'e, a total chan: U'roves. ?e! S- ^^ 144 THE TASK. Which even now, though silently perform'd, And slowly, and by most unfelt, the face Of universal nature undergoes. Fast falls a fleecy shower : the downy flakes Descending, and with never ceasing lapse Softly alighting upon all below. Assimilate all objects. Earth receives Gladly the thickening mantle ; and the green And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling blast. Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil. In such a world, so thorny, and where none Finds happiness unblighted ; or, if found. Without some thistly sorrow at its side ; It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin Against the law of love, to measure lots With less distinguish'd than ourselves ; that thus We may with patience bear our moderate ills, And sympathize with others sufiering more. Ill fares the traveller now, and he that stalks In ponderous boots beside his reeking team. The wain goes heavily, impeded sore By congregated loads, adhering close To the clogg'd wheels ; and in its sluggish pace Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide. THE WINTER EVEKINd. While every breathy by respiration strono- Forced downward, is consolidated soon Upon tlieir jutting chests. He, form'd to bear 145 .._ ^ .1^^ Tlie pelting brunt of tlie tempestuous niglit, Witli lialf-sliut eyes, and pnckered cliecks, and teeth Presented bare against the storm, plods on. One hand secures his hat, save when with both He brandishes his pliant length of whip, Besounding oft, and never heard in vain. happy ; and in my account denied 146 THE TASK. That sensibility of pain, with which Eefinement is endued, thrice happy thou ! Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed The piercing cold, but feels it unimpair'd. The learned finger never need explore Thy vigorous pulse ; and the unhealthful east. That breathes the spleen, and searches every bone Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee. Thy days roll on exempt from household care ; Thy waggon is thy wife, and the poor beasts. That drag the dull companion to and fro. Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care. Ai, treat them kindly ! rude as thou appear'st. Yet show that thou hast mercy ; which the great, With needless hurry whirl'd from place to place. Humane as they would seem, not always show. Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat. Such claim compassion in a night like this. And have a friend in every feeling heart. Warm'd while it lasts, by labour, all day long They brave the season, and yet find at eve, 111 clad, and fed but sparely, time to cool. The frugal housewife trembles when she lights Her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear. But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys. THE WINTEE EVENING. 147 The few small embers left slie nurses well ; And, while her infant race, with outspread hands And crowded knees, sit cowering o'er the sparks. / '■-■= ' I I i)f "i' M ^* ■' ■• ^^' '' f Retires, content to quake, so they be warm'd. The man feels least, as more inured than she To winter, and the current in his veins More briskly moved by his severer toil ; Yet he too finds his own distress in theirs. 148 THE TASK. The taper soon extinguisli'd, which I saw Dangled along at the cold finger's end, Just when the day declined ; and the brown loaf Lodged on the shelf, half eaten without sauce Of savoury cheese, or butter, costlier still ; Sleep seems their only refuge : for, alas. Where penury is felt the thought is chain' d. And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few ! With all this thrift, they thrive not. All the care. Ingenious Parsimony takes, but just Saves the small inventory, bed, and stool. Skillet, and old carved chest, from public sale. They live, and live without extorted alms From grudging hands ; but other boast have none To soothe their honest pride, that scorns to beg. Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love. I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair. For ye are worthy ; choosing rather far A dry but independent crust, hard eai'nM, And eaten with a sigh, than to endure The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs Of knaves in office, partial in the work Of distribution ; liberal of their aid To clamorous importunity in rags. But ofttimes deaf to suppliants, who would blush THE WINTER EVENING. 149 To wear a tatter'd garb, however coarse, Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth : These ask with painful shyness, and, refused Because deserving, silently retire. But be ye of good courage ! Time itself Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase ; And all your numerous progeny, well train' d. But helpless, in few years shall find their hands. And labour too. Meanwhile ye shall not want What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare. Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send : I mean the man who, when the distant poor Need help, denies them nothing but his name. But poverty with most, who whimper forth Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe ; The efiect of laziness or sottish waste. Now goes the nightly prowling thief abroad For plunder ; much solicitous how best He may compensate for a day of sloth By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong. Woe to the gardener's pale, the farmer's hedge, Plash'd neatly, and secured with driven stakes Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength. Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil. 150 THE TASK. An ass's burden^ and, when laden most And heaviest, light of foot steals fast away. Nor does the boarded hovel better guard The well-stack'd pile of riven logs and roots From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave Unwrench'd the door, however well secured. Where Chanticleer amidst his harem sleeps In unsuspectiug pomp, Twitch'd from the perch. He gives the princely bird, with all his wives. To his voracious bag, struggling in vain, And loudly wondering at the sudden change. Nor this to feed his own. 'T were some excuse. Did pity of their sufferings warp aside His principle, and tempt him into sin. For their support, so destitute, But they Neglected pine at home ; themselves, as more Exposed than others, with less scruple made His victims, robb'd of their defenceless all. Cruel is all he does. 'T is quenchless thirst Of ruinous ebriety that prompts His every action, and imbrutes the man. for a law to noose the villain's neck Who starves his own ; who persecutes the blood He gave them in his children's veins, and hates And wrongs the woman he has sworn to love ! THE WINTER EVEN[XG. 151 Pass where we may, tliroiigli city or tlirougli town, A'illage, or hamlet, of this meny hind, Though lean and beggar'd, every twentieth pace Conducts the unguarded nose to snch a whitf Of stale debauch, forth issuing from the styes That law has licensed, as makes temperance reel. There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor, The lackey, and the groom ; the craftsman there Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil ; Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears, And he that kneads the dough; all loud alike. 152 THE TASK. All learnedj and all drunk ! The fiddle screams Plaintive and piteous, as it wept and waiPd Its wasted tones and harmony unheard : Fierce the dispute, whate'er the theme ; while she. Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate, Perch'd on the sign-post, holds with even hand Her undecisive scales. In this she lays A weight of ignorance ; in that, of pride ; And smiles delighted with the eternal poise. Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound. The cheek distending oath, not to be praised As ornamental, musical, polite. Like those which modern senators employ. Whose oath is rhetoric, and who swear for fame ! Behold the school in which plebeian minds. Once simple, are initiated in arts, Which some may practise with politer grace. But none with readier skill ! — -'tis here they learn The road that leads from competence and peace To indigence and rapine ; till at last Society, grown weary of the load, Shakes her encumber'd lap, and casts them out. But censure profits little ; vain the attempt To advertise in verse a public pest. That, like the filth with which the peasant feeds THE WINTER EVENING. 15S His hungry acres^ stinks, and is of use. The excise is fatten'd with the rich result Of all this riot ; and ten thousand casks. For ever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad, then ; 't is your country bids ! Gloriously drunk, obey the important call ! Her cause demands the assistance of your throats ; — Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. Would I had fall'n upon those happier days, That poets celebrate ; those golden times, And those Arcadian scenes, that Maro sings, And Sydney, warbler of poetic prose. Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts That felt their virtues : Innocence, it seems. From courts dismiss'd, found shelter in the groves ; The footsteps of Simplicity, impressed Upon the yielding herbage (so they sing) Then were not all effaced : then speech profane And manners profligate were rarely found. Observed as prodigies, and soon reclaim'd. Vain wish ! those days were never : airy dreams Sat for the picture : and the poet's hand. Imparting substance to an empty shade, 154 THE TASK. Imposed a gay delirium for a truth. Grant it : — I still must envy ttem an age That favour' d such a dream ; in days like these Impossible, when Virtue is so scarce, That to suppose a scene where she presides. Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief. No : we are polish'd now ! the rural lass, Whom once her virgin modesty and grace. Her artless manners, and her neat attire. So dignified, that she was hardly less Than the fair shepherdess of old romance. Is seen no more. The character is lost ! Her head, adorn'd with lappets pinn'd aloft, And ribands streaming gay, superbly raised. And magnified beyond all human size. Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand For more than half the tresses it sustains ; Her elbows ruffled, and her tottering form 111 propp'd upon French heels ; she might be deem'd (But that the basket dangling on her arm Interprets her more truly) of a rank Too proud for dairy work, or sale of eggs. Expect her soon with footboy at her heels. No longer blushing for her awkward load. Her train and her umbrella all her care ! THE WINTER EVENING. 155 The town has tinged the country ; and the stain Appears a spot upon a vestaFs robe. The worse for what it soils. The fashion runs Down into scenes still rural ; but, alas ! Scenes rarely graced with rural manners now ! Time was when in the pastoral retreat The unguarded door was safe ; men did not watch To invade another's right, or guard their own. Then sleep was undisturb'd by fear, unscared By drunken bowlings ; and the chilling tale Of midnight murder was a wonder heard With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes. But farewell now to unsuspicious nights. And slumbers unalarm'd ! Now, ere you sleep. See that your polish'd arms be primed with care, And drop the nightbolt ; — ruffians are abroad ; And the first 'larum of the cock's shrill throat May prove a trumpet, summoning your ear To horrid sounds of hostile feet within. E'en daylight has its dangers ; and the walk Through pathless wastes and woods, unconscious once Of other tenants than melodious birds. Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold. Lamented change ! to which full many a cause Inveterate, hopeless of a cure, conspires. _ 156 THE TASK. The cause of human things from good to ill, From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails. Increase of power begets increase of wealth ; Wealth luxury, and luxury excess ; *'• Excess, the scrofulous and itchy plague, That seizes first the opulent, descends To the next rank contagious, and in time Taints downward all the graduated scale Of order, from the chariot to the plough. The rich, and they that have an arm to check The license of the lowest in degree. Desert their oflSce ; and themselves, intent On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus To all the violence of lawless hands Eesign the scenes their presence might protect. Authority herself not seldom sleeps. Though resident, and witness of the wrong. The plump convivial parson often bears The magisterial sword in vain, and lays His reverence and his worship both to rest On the same cushion of habitual sloth. Perhaps timidity restrains his arm ; When he should strike he trembles, and sets free, Himself enslaved by terror of the band. The audacious convict, whom he dares not bind. THE WINTER EVENING. 157 Perhaps^ though by profession ghostly pure, He too may have his vice, and sometimes prove Less dainty than becomes his grave outside In lucrative concerns. Examine well His milk-white hand ; the palm is hardly clean — But here and there an ugly smutch appears. Foh ! ^t was a bribe that left it : he has touch'd Corruption ! Whoso seeks an audit here Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish. Wildfowl or venison, and his errand speeds. But faster far, and more than all the rest, A noble cause, which none, who bears a spark Of public virtue, ever wish'd removed, Works the deplored and mischievous effect. 'T is universal soldiership has stabb'd The heart of merit in the meaner class. Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage Of those that bear them, in whatever cause. Seem most at variance with all moral good. And incompatible with serious thought. The clown, the child of nature, without guile. Blest with an infant's ignorance of all But his own simple pleasures ; now and then A wrestling-match, a foot-race, or a fair ; Is balloted, and trembles at the news : 158 THE TASK. Sheepish he doffs his hat, and mumbling swears A bible-oath to be whate'er they please, To do he knows not what. The task perform'd. That instant he becomes the Serjeant's care, His pupil, and his torment, and his jest. His awkward gait, his introverted toes. Bent knees, round shoulders, and dejected looks. Procure him many a curse. By slow degrees. Unapt to learn, and form'd of stubborn stuff. He yet by slow degrees puts off himself. Grows conscious of a change, and likes it well : He stands erect ; his slouch becomes a walk ; He steps right onward, martial in his air. His form, and movement ; is as smart above As meal and larded locks can make him ; wears His hat, or his plumed helmet, with a grace ; And, his three years of heroship expired. Returns indignant to the slighted plough. He hates the field, in which no fife or drum Attends him ; drives his cattle to a march ; And sighs for the smart comrades he has left. 'T were well if his exterior change were all — But with his clumsy port the wretch has lost His ignorance and harmless manners too. To swear, to game, to drink ; to show at home. THE WINTER EVENING. 159 By lewdness, idleness, and sabbatli breach. The great proficiency he made abroad ; To astonish and to grieve his gazing friends ; To break some maiden's and his mother's heart; To be a pest where he was useful once ; Are his sole aim, and all his glory now. Man in society is like a flower Blown in its native bed : 't is there alone His faculties, expanded in full bloom. Shine out; there only reach their proper use. But man, associated and leagaed with man By regal warrant, or self-join'd by bond For interest sake, or swarming into clans Beneath one head for purposes of war. Like flowers selected from the rest, and bound And bundled close to fill some crowded vase. Fades rapidly, and, by compression marr'd, Contracts defilement not to be endured. Hence chartBr'd boroughs are such public plagues ; And burghers, men immaculate perhaps In all their private functions, once combined. Become a loathsome body, only fit For dissolution, hurtful to the main. Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sin Against the charities of domestic life. 160 THE TASK. Incorporated, seem at once to lose Their nature; and, disclaiming all regard For mercy and the common rights of man, Build factories with blood, conducting trade At the sword's point, and dyeing the white robe Of innocent commercial Justice red. Hence too the field of glory, as the world Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array. With all its majesty of thundering pomp. Enchanting music, and immortal wreaths. Is but a school where thoughtlessness is taught On principle, where foppery atones For folly, gallantry for every vice. But slighted as it is, aud by the great Abandon' d, and, which still more I regret. Infected with the manners and the modes It knew not once, the country wins me still. I never framed a wish, or form'd a plan. That flatter'd me with hopes of earthly bliss, But there I laid the scene. There early stray'd My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice Had found me, or the hope of being free. My very dreams were rural ; rural too The firstborn efforts of my youthful muse. Sportive, and jingling her poetic bells. THIS WINTER EVENING. 161 Ere yet her ear was mistress of their powers. No bard could please me but whose lyre was tuned To Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats Fatigued me, never weary of the pipe Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang, The rustic throng beneath his favourite beech. Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms : New to my taste, his Paradise surpass'd The struggling efforts of my boyish tongue To speak its excellence. 1 danced for joy. I marvell'd much that, at so ripe an age As twice seven years, his beauties had then first Engaged my wonder; and admiring still. And still admiring, with regret supposed The joy half lost, because not sooner found. There too, enamour'd of the life I loveil, Pathetic in its praise, in its pursuit Determined, and possessing it at last. With transports, such as favour'd lovers feel, I studied, prized, and wish'd that 1 had known Ingenious Cowley ! and, though now reclaim'd By modern lights from an erroneous taste, I cannot but lament thy splendid wit Entangled in the cobwebs of the schools. I still revere thee, courtly though retired; 162 THE TASK. Though stretched at ease in Chertsey's silent bowers, Not unemploy'd j and finding rich amends For a lost world in solitude and verse. 'T is bom with all : the love of Nature's works Is an ingredient in the compound man. Infused at the creation of the kind. And, though the Almighty Maker has throughout Discriminated each from each, by strokes And touches of his hand, with so much art Diversified, that two were never found Twins at all points — yet this obtains in all, That all discern a beauty in his works. And all can taste them : minds that have been formM And tutor' d, with a relish more exact, Bat none without some relish, none unmoved. It is a flame that dies not even there Where nothing feeds it : neither business, crowds, Nor habits of luxurious city life. Whatever else they smother of true worth In human bosoms, quench it or abate. The villas with which London stands begirt, Like a swarth Indian with his belt of beads. Prove it. A breath of unadulterate air. The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer The citizen, and brace his languid frame ! THE WINTBE EVENING. 163 E'en in the stifling bosom of the town, A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms That soothe the rich possessor ; much consoled. That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint. Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the wall He cultivates. These serve him with a hint That Nature lives ; that sight-refreshing green Is still the livery she delights to wear, Thoagh sickly samples of the exuberant whole. What are the casements lined with creeping herbs. The prouder sashes fronted with a range Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed. The Frenchman's darling? * are they not all proofs That man, immured in cities, still retains His inborn inextinguishable thirst Of rural scenes, compensating his loss By supplemental shifts, the best he may ? The most unfurnished with the means of life, And they that never pass their brick-wall bound. To range the fields and treat their lungs with air, Yet feel the burning instinct : over head Suspend their crazy boxes, planted thick. And water'd duly. There the pitcher stands, A fragment, and the spoutless teapot there ; * Mignonette. 16J. THE TASK. Sad witnesses liow close-pent man regrets The country, with what ardour he contrives A peep at Nature, when he can no more. Hall, tlieri't'ore, [)atroness of health and ease. And contemplation, heart-consoling joys, And liannless pleasures, in the thronged aljode (Jf multitudes uukno\vu ! hail, rural life ! Address himself who will to tlj(j pursuit Of honours, or emolument, or fame ; J shall not adil m)'self to such a chase. THE WINTEB EVENING. 166 Thwart, his attempts, or envy his success. Some must be great. Great offices will have Great talents. And God gives to every man The virtue, temper, understanding, taste. That lifts him into life, and lets him fall Just in the niche he was ordain'd to fill. To the deliverer of an injured land He gives a tongue to enlarge upon, a heart To feel, and courage to redress her wrongs ; To monarchs dignity ; to judges sense ; To artists ingenuity and skill ; To me an unambitious mind, content In the low vale of life, that early felt A wish for ease and leisure, and ere long Found here that leisure and that ease I wish'd. ^^ X W' §ooli|ift!j. WeMiutcr V ,<- (T'hc Argument. A tiust\ muimn;r^Tlie foddering of cattle — The woodman md his dog — The poultry — Whim- liLf i\ eflCLts of fiost at a waterfall — The Empress of Russia 8 pa-Ute of ice — Amusements of mo- mifl s — Wii 01)0 of them — Wars, whcrxc — And \\hLiice iiiDniich'v — Tlic evils of it — En£,dish and 1 J inch lu^ dt\ contrtisted — The Bnstile, and a ] UMmei thi^re — Liberty the chief rccommcnda- rinn ot this cnimt-y— Modern patriotism rpics- tmnablo and \\h-\ — Tl^c iicrishiil)le nnture of the be&t linman institutions — Spiritual liberty not piiiilulilr — The si ivish state of mnn by nature — |)th\fc.rhim Deist, if you can— Grace must do it — Ihn lespectue mciits of patriots and mar- i>is stittd— Iheir different trentment — Happy htodum ot tljL 111 in whom p:r;ice makes free — His iLlish ut the works of God —Address to the ( leitnr ^\^\ ®j)e Mintcr ||Ionun(i MalL 'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb Ascendingj fires the horizon ; while the clouds, That crowd away before the driving wind, 170 THE TASK. More ardent as tlie disk emerges more, Resemble most some city in a blaze, ' Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale, And, tinging all with his own rosy hue, From every herb and every spiry blade Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field. Mine, spindling into longitude immense. In spite of gravity, and sage remark That I myself am but a fleeting shade. Provokes me to a smile. With eye askance, I view the muscular proportioned limb Transform'd to a lean shank. The shapeless pair, As they design'd to mock me, at my side Take step for step ; and, as I near approach The cottage, walk along the plaster'd wall. Preposterous sight ! the legs without the man. The verdure of the plain lies buried deep Beneath the dazzling deluge ; and the bents. And coarser grass, upspearing o'er the rest. Of late unsightly and unseen, now shine Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad. And fledged with icy feathers, nod superb. The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence Screens them, and seem half-petrified to sleep THE WINTEK JJORNINii WALK. 171 111 iiiirecmiibeut sadiR's^s. There they \\'ait Their woiitoil fudder ; not hke hungering man, Fretful it uusupplied; but sileut, meeh, ,^ \- And jiatient of the slow-paeed s^-^-ain's delay. ;i:r'- 172 THE TASK. He from the stack carves out the accustom'd load, Deep plunging, and again deep plunging oft. His broad keen knife into the solid mass : Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands. With such undeviating and even force He severs it away : no needless care. Lest storms should overset the leaning pile Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight. Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd The cheerful haunts of man ; to wield the axe And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear, From morn to eve his solitary task. Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears. And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher, and half cur. His dog attends him. Close behind his heel Now creeps he slow ; and now, with many a frisk Wide scampering, snatches up the drifted snow With ivory teeth, or ploughs it with his snout ; Then shakes his powder'd coat, and barks for joy. Heedless of all his pranks, the sturdy churl Moves right toward the mark ; nor stops for aught, But now and then with pressure of his thumb To adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube. That fumes beneath his nose : the trailing cloud Streams far behind him, scenting all the air. THE WINTER JIOKNINO WALK. 173 Now from tlie roost, or from the iieigliboui'itig' pale, Whei'e^ dilio-oiit to catch the first fair gleaiii Of smiling ilay, they gossip'd side 1)}' side, Come trooping at the housewife's well-known call Tlie feather'd ti-ibcs domestic. Half on wing, And half on foot, they brush the fleecy Hond, CousciouSj and fearful of too deep a plunge. The sparrows peep, and quit the sheltering eaves, To seize the fair occasion : well tliey eye The scatter'd grain, and thievishl\' resolved To escape the impending famine, often scared. 174 THE TASK. As oft return^ a pert voracious kind. Clean riddance quickly made^ one only care Eemains to each, the search of sunny nook. Or shed impervious to the blast. Eesign'd To sad necessity, the cock foregoes His wonted strut; and, wading at their head With well- consider' d steps, seems to resent His alter'd gait a,nd stateliness retrench'd. How find the myriads, that in summer cheer The hills and valleys with their ceaseless songs. Due sustenance, or where subsist they now ? Earth yields them nought ; the imprison'd worm is safe Beneath the frozen clod ; all seeds of herbs Lie cover'd close; and bterry-bearing thorns, That feed the thrush (whatever some suppose), Afford the smaller minstrels no supply. The long protracted rigour of the year Thins all their numerous flocks. In chinks and holes Ten thousand seek an unmolested end, As instinct prompts ; self-buried ere they die. The very rooks and daws forsake the fields, Where neither grub, nor root, nor earth-nut, now Eepays their labour more ; and, perch'd aloft By the way-side, or stalking in the path. Lean pensioners upon the traveller's track. THE WIXTEE ifOEXIXG WALK. 175 Piok up tlieir nauseous dole, thouo-h sweet to them, Of voided pulse, or lialf-digested grain. The streams are lost amid the splendiil blank, O'erwhelming all distinction. On the flood. Indurated and fix'd, the snowy weight Lies undissolved; wliile silently beneath, And unpcrceived, the cm-rent steals away. Not so where, scornful of a check, it leaps The mill-dam, dashes )n th restless wheel, And wantons in thopebbi\ _,iilt b^b\ 176 THE TASK. No frost can bind it there ; its utmost force Can but arrest the light and smoky mist That in its fall the liquid sheet throws wide. . And see where it has hung the embroider'd banks With forms so various, that no powers of art, The pencil or the pen, may trace the scene ! Here glittering turrets rise, upbearing high (Fantastic misarrange'ment !) on the roof Large growth of what may seem the sparkling trees And shrubs of fairy land. The crystal drops That trickle down the branches, fast congeal' d. Shoot into pillars of pellucid length. And prop the pile they but adorn'd before. Here grotto within grotto safe defies The sunbeam ; there, emboss'd and fretted wild, The growing wonder takes a thousand shapes Capricious, in which fancy seeks in vain The likeness of some object seen before. Thus Nature works as if to mock at Art, And in defiance of her rival powers ; By these fortuitous and random strokes Performing such inimitable feats As she with all her rules can never reach. Less worthy of applause, though more admired. Because a novelty, the work of man. THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 17/ Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Euss ! Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, The wonder of the North. No forest fell When thou wouldst build ; no quarry sent its stores To enrich thy walls ; but thou didst hew the floods. And make thy marble of the glassy wave. In such a palace Aristseus found Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale Of his lost bees to her maternal ear : In such a palace Poetry might place The armoury of Winter; where his troops, The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet. Skin-piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail. And snow, that often blinds the traveller's course. And wraps him in an unexpected tomb. Silently as a dream the fabric rose ; No sound of hammer or of saw was there. Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts Were soon conjoin'd; nor other cement ask'd, Than water interfused to make them one. Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all hues, Illumined every side; a watery light GleamM through the clear transparency, that seem'd Another moon new risen, or meteor fallen From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene. 178 THE TASK. So stood the brittle prodigy ; though smooth And slippery the materials, yet frost-bound Firm as a rock, Nor wanted au^ht within, That royal residence might well befit. For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths Of flowers, that fear'd no enemy but warmth, Blush'd on the panels. Mirror needed none. Where all was vitreous ; but in order due. Convivial table and commodious seat (What seem'd at least commodious seat) were there j Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. The same lubricity was found in all, And all was moist to the warm touch ; a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream. And soon to slide into a stream again. Alas ! 't was but a mortifying stroke Of undesigned severity, that glanced (Made by a monarch) on her own estate, On human grandeur and the courts of kings. ^Twas transient in its nature, as in show ^T was durable ; as worthless, as it seem'd Intrinsically precious ; to the foot Treacherous and false ; it smiled, and it was cold. Great princes have great playthings. Some have play'd At hewing mountains into men, and some THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 179 At building human wonders mountain high. Some have amused the dull sad years of life (Life spent in indolence, and therefore sad) With schemes of monumental fame ; and sought By pyramid and mausolean pomp, Short-lived themselves, to immortalize their bones. Some seek diversion in the tented field, And make the sorrows of mankind their sport. But war 's a game which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at. Nations would do well To extort their truncheons from the puny hands Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds Are gratified with mischief, and who spoil. Because men suffer it, their toy, the World. When Babel was confounded, and the great Confederacy of projectors wild and vain Was split into diversity of tongues. Then, as a shepherd separates his flock. These to the upland, to the valley those, God drave asunder, and assigu'd their lot To all the nations. Ample was the boon He gave them, in its distribution fair And equal; and he bade them dwell in peace. Peace was awhile their care j they plough' d, and sow'd. And reap'd their plenty, without grudge or strife ; 180 THE TASK. But violence can never longer sleep Tlian human passions please. In every heart Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war ; Occasion needs but fan them^ and they blaze. Cain had already shed a brother's blood ; The deluge wash'd it out ; but left unquench'd The seeds of murder in the breast of man. Soon by a righteous judgment in the line Of his descending progeny was found. The first artificer of death; the shrewd Contriver, who first sweated at the forge. And forced the blunt and yet unbloodied steel To a keen edge, and made it bright for war. Him, Tubal named, the Vulcan of old times. The sword and falchion their inventor claim ; And the first smith was the first murderer's son. His art survived the waters ; and ere long. When man was multiplied and spread abroad In tribes and clans, and had begun to call These meadows and that range of hills his own, The tasted sweets of property begat Desire of more ; and industry in some. To improve and cultivate their just demesne. Made others covet what they saw so fair. Thus war began on earth : these fought for spoil. THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 181 And those in self-defence. Savage at first The onset, and irregular. At length, One eminent above the rest for strength, For stratagem, or courage, or for all, Was chosen leader ; him they served in war. And him in peace, for sake of warlike deeds. Reverenced no less. ' Who could with him compare ? Or who so woi'thy to control themselves. As he, whose prowess had subdued their foes ? Thus war, affording field for the display Of virtue, made one chief, whom times of peace. Which have their exigencies too, and call For skill in government, at length made king. King was a name too proud for man to wear With modesty and meekness ; and the crown. So dazzling in their eyes who set it on. Was sure to intoxicate the brows it bound. It is the abject property of most. That, being parcel of the common mass. And destitute of means to raise themselves. They sink, and settle lower than they need. They know not what it is to feel within A comprehensive faculty, that grasps Great purposes with ease, that turns and wields. Almost without an effort, plans too vast 182 THE TASK. For their conception, which they cannot move. Conscious of impotence^ they soon grow drunk With gazing, when they see an able man Step forth to notice ; and, besotted thus, Build him a pedestal, and say, " Stand there. And be our admiration and our praise." They roll themselves before him in the dust. Then most deserving in their own account, When most extravagant in his applause, As if exalting" him they raised themselves. Thus by degrees, self- cheated of their sound And sober judgment, that he is but man, They demi-deify and fume him so. That in due season he forgets it too ; Inflated and astrut with self-conceit, He gulps the windy diet ; and, ere Jong, Adopting their mistake, profoundly thinks The world was made in vain, if not for him. Thenceforth they are his cattle : drudges, born To bear his burdens, drawing in his gears. And sweating in his service, his caprice Becomes the soul that animates them all. He deems a thousand, or ten thousand lives, Spent in the purchase of renown for him. An easy reckoning ; and they think the same. THE WINTER MOENING WALK. 188 Thus kings were first invented^ and thus kings Were burnish'd into heroes, and became The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp ; Storks among frogs, that have but croak'd and died. Strange, that such folly, as lifts bloated man To eminence, fit only for a god, Should ever drivel out of human lips. E'en in the cradled weakness of the world ! Still stranger much, that, when at length mankind Had reached the sinewy firmness of their youth. And could discriminate and argue well On subjects more mysterious, they were yet Babes in the cause of freedom, and should fear And quake before the gods themselves had made. But above measure strange, that neither proof Of sad experience, nor examples set By some, whose patriot virtue has prevail'd, Can even now, when they are grown mature In wisdom, and with philosophic deeds Familiar, serve to emancipate the rest ! Such dupes are men to custom, and so prone To reverence what is ancient, and can plead A course of long observance for its use. That even servitude, the worst of ills. Because deliver'd down from sire to sou. THE TASK. Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing ! But is it fit^ or can it bear the shock Of rational discussion^ that a man, Compounded and made up hke other men Of elements tumultuous, in whom lust And folly in as ample measure meet. As in the bosoms of the slaves he rules. Should be a despot absolute, and boast Himself the only freeman of his land? — Should when he pleases, and- on whom he will, Wage war, with any or Avith no pretence Of provocation given, or wrong sustain'd ; And force the beggarly last doit, by means That his own humour dictates, from the clutch Of Poverty, that thus he may procure His thousands, weary of penurious life, A splendid opportunity to die ? Say ye, who (with less prudence than of old Jotham ascribed to his assembled trees In politic convention) put your trust In the shadow of a bramble, and, reclined In fancied peace beneath his dangerous branch, Eejoice in him, and celebrate his sway. Where find ye passive fortitude ? Whence springs Youi' self-denying zeal, that holds it good THE WINTER MOENING WALK. ] S"i To stroke the prickly grievance, and to hang His thorns with streamers of continual praise ? We too are friends of loyalty. We love The king who loves the law, respects his bounds. And reigns content within them : him we serve Freely and with delight, who leaves us free : But, recollecting still that he is man, We trust him not too far. King though he be, And king in England too, he may be weak. And vain enough to be ambitious still ; May exercise amiss his proper powers. Or covet more than freemen choose to grant : Beyond that mark is treason. He is ours. To administer, to guard, to adorn the state, But not to warp or change it. We are his. To serve him nobly in the common cause. True to the death, but not to be his slaves. Mark now the difference, ye that boast your love Of kings, between your loyalty and ours. We love the man, the paltry pageant you : We the chief patron of the commonwealth. You the regardless author of its woes : We for the sake of liberty a king. You chains and bondage for a tyrant's sake. Our love is principle, and has its root 186 TDE TASK. In reason, is judicious, manly, free ; Yours, a blind instinct, crouctes to the rod. And licks the foot that treads it in the dust. Were kingship as true treasure as it seems, Sterling, and worthy of a wise man's wish, I would not be a king to be beloved Causeless, and daub'd with undiscerning praise. Where love is mere attachment to the throne, Not to the man who fills it as he ought. Whose freedom is by sufferance, and at will Of a superior, he is never free. Who lives, and is not weary of a life Exposed to manacles, deserves them well. The state that strives for liberty, though foil'd. And forced to abandon what she bravely sought. Deserves at least applause for her attempt. And pity for her loss. But that ^s a cause Not often unsuccessful : power usurp' d Is weakness when opposed ; conscious of wrong, 'T is pusillanimous and prone to flight. But slaves, that once conceive the glowing thought Of freedom, in that hope itself possess All that the contest calls for ; spirit, strength. The scorn of danger, and united hearts ; The surest presage of the good they seek. THK WINTER MOENJSO ^VALK 1.^^ Thcu sluuiLC to iiiiiuIiuoJ, and upprdlinuiis moi'O To Frrince than all Iut l(jsses ami ilclcats, Oldj or of late)' date, hy sea or laud, Her liouse of Ijoiidiii^-e, worse than tliat of old VVliich God avenged on Pliara.oh — the Jjastile. Ye liori'id towers, the abode of broken hearts, Y(.' dungeons, and ye e;iges of despair. That monarehs have supplied from age to age With music, such as suits their sovereign ears. The sighs and groans of miserahle men ! Tliere'a not an iMiglisli iieart that would not leap To liear that \'e were I'alleu at last ; to know 188 THE TASK. That e'en our enemies, so oft employed In forging chains for us, themselves were free. For he who values Liberty confines His zeal for her predominance within No narrow bounds ; her cause engages him Wherever pleaded. 'Tis the cause of man. There dwell the most forlorn of human kind. Immured though unaccused, condemn'd untried, Cruelly spared, and hopeless of escape ! There, like the visionary emblem seen By him of Babylon, life stands a stump, And, filleted about with hoops of brass. Still lives, though all his pleasant boughs are gone. To count the hour-bell, and expect no change ; And ever, as the sullen sound is heard. Still to reflect, that, though a joyless note To him, whose moments all have one dull pace. Ten thousand rovers in the world at large Account it music ; that it summons some To theatre, or jocund feast, or ball : The wearied hireling finds it a release From labour; and the lover, who has chid Its long delay, feels every welcome stroke Upon his heart-strings, trembling with delight — To fly for refuge from distracting thought. THE WINTER MOENIKG WALK. 189 To such amusements as ingenious woe Contrives^ hard shifting, and without her tools — To read engraven on the mouldy walls, In staggering types, his predecessor's tale, A sad memorial, and subjoin his own — To turn purveyor to an overgorged And bloated spider, till the pamper'd pest Is made familiar, watches his fipproach. Comes at his call, and serves him for a friend — To wear out time in numbering to and fro The studs that thick emboss his iron door ; Then downward, and then upward, then aslant, And then alternate ; with a sickly hope By dint of change to give his tasteless task Some relish ; till, the sum exactly found In all directions, he begins again — Oh comfortless existence ! hemm'd around With woes, which who that suffers would not kneel And beg for exile, or the pangs of death? That man should thus encroach on fellow man. Abridge him of his just and native rights. Eradicate him, tear him from his hold Upon the endearments of domestic life And social, nip his fruitfulness and use, And doom him for perhaps a heedless word 100 THE TASK. To barrenness, and solitude, and tears, ]\roves indignation, makes the name of king (Of king whom such prerogative can please) As dreadful as the Manichean god, Adored through fear, strong only to destroy. 'T is liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume ; And we are weeds without it. All constraiat. Except what wisdom lays on evil men, Is evil ; harts the faculties, impedes Their progress in the road of science ; blinds The eyesight of Discovery; and begets. In those that suffer it, a sordid mind Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit To be the tenant of man's noble form. Thee therefore still, blameworthy as thou art. With all thy loss of empire, and though squeezed By public exigence, till annual food Fails for the craving hunger of the state. Thee I account still happy, and the chief Among the nations, seeing thou art free : My -native nook of earth ! Thy clime is rude, Replete with vapours, and disposes much All hearts to sadness, and none more than mine : Thine unadulterate manners are less soft THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 191 And plausible than social life requires. And thou hast need of discipline and art, To give thee what politer France receives From nature's bounty — that humane address And sweetness, without which no pleasure is In converse, either starved by cold reserve. Or flush'd with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl. Yet being free I love thee : for the sake Of that one feature can be well content, Disgraced as thou hast been, poor as thou art. To seek no sublunary rest beside. But once enslaved, farewell. I could endure Chains nowhere patiently ; and chains at home, Where I am free by birthright, not at all. Then what were left of roughness in the grain Of British natures, wanting its excuse That it belongs to freemen, would disgust And shock me. I should then with double pain Feel all the rigour of thy fickle clime ; And, if I must bewail the blessing lost. For which our Hampdens and our Sydneys bled, I would at least bewail it under skies Milder, among a people less austere ; In scenes which, having never known me free, Would not reproach me with the loss I felt. 192 THE TASK. Do I forebode impossible events. And tremble at vain dreams ? Heaven grant I may ! But tlie age of virtuous politics is past, And we are deep in that of cold pretence. Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere. And we too wise to trust them. He that takes Deep in his soft credulity the stamp Design' d by loud declaimers on the part Of liberty, themselves the slaves of lust. Incurs derision for his easy faith And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough ; For when was public virtue to be found Where private was not ? Can he love the whole Who loves no part ? He be a nation's friend Who is, in truth, the friend of no man there ? Can he be strenuous in his country's cause. Who slights the charities for whose dear sake That country, if at all, must be beloved ? 'Tis therefore sober and good men are sad For England's glory, seeing it wax pale And sickly, while her champions wear their hearts So loose to private duty, that no brain. Healthful and undisturb'd by factious fumes. Can dream them trusty to the general weal. Such were not they of old, whose temper'd blades THE WINTEE MOENING WALK. 193 Dispersed the shackles of usurped control, And hew'd them link from link; then Albion^s sous Were sons indeed ; they felt a filial heart Beat high within them at a mother's wrongs ; Andj shining each in his domestic sphere. Shone brighter still, once call'd to public view. 'Tis therefore many, whose sequester'd lot Forbids their interference, looking on, Anticipate perforce some dire event ; And, seeing the old castle of the state. That promised once more firmness, so assail'd That all its tempest-beaten turrets shake. Stand motionless expectants of its fall. All has its date below ; the fatal hour Was register'd in heaven ere time began. We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works Die too : the deep foundations that we lay. Time ploughs them up, and not a trace remains. We build with what we deem eternal rock : A distant age asks where the fabric stood ; And in the dust, sifted and searched in vain. The indiscoverable secret sleeps. But there is yet a liberty, unsung By poets, and by senators unpraised. Which monarchs cannot grant, nor all the powers 194 THE TASK. Of earth and hell confederate take away : A liberty which persecution, fraud, Oppression, prisons, have no power to bind ; Which whoso tastes can be enslaved no more. ^T is liberty of heart, derived from heaven, Bought with His blood, who gave it to mankind, And seal'd with the same token. It is held By charter, and that charter sanction'd sure By the unimpeachable and awful oath And promise of a God. His other gifts All bear the royal stamp that speaks them his. And are august; but this transcends them all. His other works, the visible display Of all-creating energy and might. Are grand, no doubt, and worthy of the word That, finding an interminable space Unoccupied, has.fill'd the void so well. And made so sparkling what was dark before. But these are not his glory. Man, 'tis true, Smit with the beauty of so fair a scene. Might well suppose the artificer divine Meant it eternal, had he not himself Pronounced it transient, glorious as it is, And, still designing a more glorious far, Doom'd it as insufficient for his praise. THE WINTEE MOENIKG WALK. 195 These, therefore, are occasional, and pass ; Form'd for the confutation of the fool, Whose lying heart disputes against a God ; That office served, they must be swept away. Not so the labours of his love : they shine In other heavens than these that we behold, And fade not. There is paradise that fears No forfeiture, and of its fruits he sends Large prelibation oft to saints below. Of these the first in order, and the pledge And confident assurance of the rest. Is liberty ; a flight into his arms, Ere yet mortality's fine threads gave way, A clear escape from tyrannizing lust. And full immunity from penal woe. Chains are the portion of revolted man. Stripes, and a dungeon ; and his body serves The triple purpose. In that sickly, foul,' Opprobrious residence he finds them all. Prepense his heart to idols, he is held In silly dotage on created things. Careless of their Creator. And that low And sordid gravitation of his powers To a vile clod so draws him, with such force Resistless from the centre he should seek. 196 THE TASK. That lie at last forgets it. All his hopes Tend downwards ; his ambition is to sink. To reach a depth profounder still, and still Profounder, in the fathomless abyss Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death. But, ere he gain the comfortless repose He seeks, and acquiescence of his soul In heaven-renouncing exile, he endures — What does he not — from lusts opposed in vain. And self-reproaching conscience ? He foresees The fatal issue to his health, fame, and peace. Fortune and dignity ; the loss of all That can ennoble man, and make frail life. Short as it is, supportable. Still worse. Far worse than all the plagues with which his sins Infect his happiest moments, he forebodes Ages of hopeless misery. Future death. But death still future. Not a hasty stroke. Like that which sends him to the dusty grave ; But unrepealable enduring death. Scripture is still a trumpet to his fears : What none can prove a forgery may be true ; What none but bad men wish exploded must. That scruple checks him. Eiot is. not loud Nor drunk enough to drown it. In the midst THE WINTER MOBNING WALK. 197 Of laughter his compunctions are sincere ; And he abhors the jest by which he shines. Eemorse begets reform. His master-lust Falls first before his resolute rebuke, And seems dethroned and vanquish'd. Peace ensues, But spurious and short-lived; the puny child Of self-congratulating pride, begot On fancied innocence. Again he falls, And fights again ; but finds his best essay A presage ominous, portending still Its own dishonour by a worse relapse. Till Nature, unavailing Nature, foiFd So oft, and wearied in the vain attempt. Scoffs at her own performance. Reason now Takes part with appetite, and pleads the cause Perversely, which of late she so condemned ; With shallow shifts and old devices, worn And tatter'd in the service of debauch. Covering his shame from his offended sight. " Hath God indeed given appetites to man. And stored the earth so plenteously with means To gratify the hunger of his wish ; And doth he reprobate, and will he damn The use of his own bounty ? making first So frail a kind, and then enacting laws 198 THE TASK. So strictj tliat less than perfect must despair ? Falsehood ! which whoso but suspects of truth. Dishonours God, and makes a slave of man. Do they themselves, who undertake for hire The teacher's office, and dispense at large Their weekly dole of edifying strains. Attend to their own music? have they faith In what, with such solemnity of tone And gesture, they propound to our belief ? Nay — conduct hath the loudest tongue. The voice Is but an instrument, on which the priest May play what tune he pleases. In the deed. The unequivocal authentic deed, We find sound argument, we read the heart." Such reasonings (if that name must needs belong To excuses in which reason has no part) Serve to compose a spirit well inclined To live on terms of amity with vice. And sin without disturbance. Often urged, (As often as, libidinous discourse Exhausted, he resorts to solemn themes Of theological and grave import) They gain at last his unreserved assent ; Till, harden'd his heart's temper in the forge Of lust, and on the anvil of despair, THE WINTEK MORNING WALK. , 199 He slights the strokes of conscience. Nothing moveSj Or nothing much, his constancy in ill ; Vain tampering has but foster'd his disease ; 'T is desperate, and he sleeps the sleep of death. Haste now, philosopher, and set him free. Charm the deaf serpent wisely. Make him hear Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth How lovely, and the moral sense how sure. Consulted and obeyed, to guide his steps Directly to the first and only fair. Spare not in such a cause. Spend all the powers Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise ; Be most sublimely good, verbosely grand. And with poetic trappings grace thy prose. Till it outmantle all the pride of verse. — Ah, tinkHng cymbal, and high-sounding brass. Smitten in vain ! such music cannot charm The eclipse that intercepts truth's heavenly beam. And chills and darkens a wide wandering soul. The STILL SMALL VOICE is wanted. He must speak. Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect ; Who calls for things that are not, and they come. Grace makes the slave a freeman. 'T is a change That turns to ridicule the turgid speech And stately tone of moralists, who boast, 2u 200 THE TASK. As if, like him of fabulous renown. They had indeed ability to smooth The shag of savage nature, and were each An Orpheus, and omnipotent in song. But transformation of apostate man From fool to wise, from earthly to divine. Is work for Him that made him. He alone, And He by means in philosophic eyes Trivial and worthy of disdain, achieves The wonder ; humanizing what is brute In the lost kind, extracting from the lips Of asps their venom, overpowering strength By weakness, and hostility by love. Patriots have toil'd, and in their country's cause Bled nobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve. Receive proud recompense. We give in charge Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic muse. Proud of the treasure, marches with it down To latest times ; and Sculpture, in her turn. Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass To guard them, and to immortalize her trust : But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid. To those who, posted at the shrine of Truth, Have fallen in her defence. A patriot's blood, Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed. THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 201 And for a time ensure to his loved land. The sweets of liberty and equal laws ; But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize. And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim — ■ Our claim to feed upon immortal truth. To walk with God, to be divinely free. To soar, and to anticipate the skies. Yet few remember them. They lived unknown. Till Persecution dragg'd them into fame. And chased them up to heaven. Their ashes flew ^No marble tells us whither. With their names ISTo bard embalms and sanctifies his song : And history, so warm on meaner themes. Is cold on this. She execrates indeed The tyranny that doomed them to the fire, But gives the glorious sufferers little praise. * He is the freeman whom the truth makes free. And all are slaves beside. There 's not a chain That hellish foes, confederate for his harm. Can wind around him, but he casts it ofi" With as much ease as Samson his green withes. He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and, though poor, perhaps, compared * See Hume. 202 THE TASK. With tliosG wliose mansions glitter in liis siglit, Calls tlie delightful scenery all liis own. His are tlie mountainSj and the valleys his, And tlie I'csplendent rivers. His to enjo)-, With a propriety thiit none can feel. But who, with filial confidence inspired. Can lift to heaven an unpresuniptuous eye, THE WINTEE MOKNING WALK. 203 And smiling say — " My Father made them all ! " Are they not his by a peculiar rights And by an emphasis of interest his, Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love That plaun'd, and built, and still upholds a world So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man ? Yes — ye may fill your garners, ye that reap The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good In senseless riot ; but ye will not find. In feast or in the chase, in song or dance, A liberty like his who, unimpeach'd Of usurpation, aud to no man's wrong, Appropriates nature as his Father's work, And has a richer use of yours than you. He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth Of no mean city ; planned or e'er the hills Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea With all his roaring multitude of waves. His freedom is the same in every state ; And no condition of this changeful life. So manifold in cares, Avhose ever}- day Brings its own evil with it, makes it less : For he has wings that neither sickness, pain, 204 THE TASK. Nor penury^ can cripple or confine. No nook so narrow but he spreads them there With ease, and is at large. The oppressor holds His body bound ; but knows not what a range His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain ; And that to bind him is a vain attempt, Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. , Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace. Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before ; Thine eye shall be instructed ; and thine heart, Made pure, shall relish, with divine delight. Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone, And eyes intent upon the scanty herb It yields them ; or, recumbent on its brow, Euminate heedless of the scene outspread. Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away From inland regions to the distant main. Man views it, and admires ; but rests content With what he views. The landscape has his praise. But not its author. Unconcern'd who form'd The paradise he sees, he finds it such, And, such well-pleased to find it, asks no more. Not so the mind that has been touched from Heaven, THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 205 And in the school of sacred wisdom taught To read his wonders, in whose thought the world, Fair as it is, existed ere it was. Not for its own sake merely, but for his Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praise ; Praise that, from earth resulting, as it ought. To earth's acknowledged sovereign, finds at once Its only just proprietor in Him. The soul that sees him, or receives sublimed New faculties, or learns at least to employ More worthily the powers she own'd before ; Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaze Of ignorance, till then she overlook' d, A ray of heavenly light, gilding all forms Terrestrial in the vast and the minute ; The unambiguous footsteps of the God, Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing. And wheels his throne upon tlie rolhng worlds. Much conversant with heaven, she often holds With those fair ministers of light to man. That nightly fill the skies with silent pomp, Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were they With which Heaven rang, when every star, in haste To gratulate the new-created earth. Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of God 206 THE TASK. Shouted for joy. — " Tell me, ye shining hosts, That navigate a sea that knows no storms, Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud. If from your elevation, whence ye view Distinctly scenes invisible to man. And systems, of whose birth no tidings yet Have reach'd this nether world, ye spy a race Favour'd as ours ; transgressors from the womb. And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise. And to possess a brighter heaven than yours ? As one who long detain'd on foreign shores Pants to return, and when he sees afar His country's weather-bleach' d and batter'd rocks. Prom the green wave emerging, darts an eye Eadiant with joy towards the happy land ; So I with animated hopes behold. And many an aching wish, your beamy fires. That show like beacons in the blue abyss, Ordain'd to guide the embodied spirit home From toilsome life to never-ending rest. Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires That give assurance of their own success, And, that infused from Heaven, must thither tend.^ So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth Hluminates. Thy lamp, mysterious Word ! THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 207 Which whoso sees, no longer wanders lost. With intellects bemazed in endless doubt. But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built, With means that were not till by thee employ^. Worlds that had never been hadst thou in strength Been less, or less benevolent than strong. They are thy witnesses, who speak thy power And goodness infinite, but speak in ears That hear not, or receive not their report. In vain thy creatures testify of thee. Till thou proclaim thyself. Theirs is indeed A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine. That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn. And with the boon gives talents for its use. Till thou art heard, imaginations vain Possess the heart, and fables false as hell. Yet deem'd oracular, lure down to death The uninfonn'd and heedless souls of men. We give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as blind. The glory of thy work ; which yet appears Perfect and unimpeachable of blame, Challenging human scrutiny, and proved Then skilful most when most severely judged. But chance is not ; or is not where thou reign' st : Thy providence forbids that fickle power 2 E 208 THE TASK. (If power she be that works but to confound) To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. Yet thus we dote, refusing while we can Instruction, and inventing to ourselves Gods such as guilt makes welcome ; gods that sleep, Or disregard our follies, or that sit Amused spectators of this bustling stage. Thee we reject, unable to abide Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure ; Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause. For which we shunn'd and hated thee before. Then we are free. Then liberty, like day. Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not. Till thou hast touch'd them ; ^t i^ the voice of song, A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works. Which he that hears it with a shout repeats. And adds his rapture to the general praise. In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile The author of her beauties, who, retired Behind his own creation, works unseen By the impure, and hears his power denied. Thou art the source and centre of all minds. THE -WJ.VTEK MOESIKl; WALK. ^U'.J Their only jioint of rest, eternal ^^'ol■(I ! From thee departing, they are lost, and rove At random, without honour, liojie, or peace. From thee is all that soothes the life of man. His high endeavour, and his glad success. His strengtli to suffer, and his will to serve. But, thou bounteous Giver of all good. Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown ! Give what thou canst, without thee we are p(Jor ; And with thee rich, take \vhat thou «-ilt away. ^ li.'K^^ §ooh ^ixili ^y iho tmthor uponnnimals — Instances iif man's extrnva^Lrnnt praise of man — 'fhe groans of the creation shall have auend — A view taken of therestorniion of ad ilinii,^.-; — All invorat on and an invitation of II im, who^hall '' briuLT it to pa-s— The retired rann vindicated frnm \ the charge of nselessncss — Conclnsiun. I-.') Mintcr Miilh at loon. Theke is in souls a sympathy with sounds ; Au<] as the uiind is pitch\l the ear is pleased AVith melting airs^ or martial, brisk, or grave : Some chord in unison with what we hear 214 THE TASK. Is touch'd within us^ and the heart replies. How soft the music of those village bells. Falling at intervals upon the ear In cadence sweet, now dying all away. Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on ! With easy force it opens all the. cells Where Memory slept. Wherever I have heard A kindred melody, the scene recurs. And with it all its pleasures and its pains. Such comprehensive views the spirit takes, That in a few short moments I retrace (As in a map the voyager his course) The windings of my way through many years. Short as in retrospect the journey seems. It seem'd not always short; the rugged path. And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn. Moved many a sigh at its disheartening length. Yet, feeling present evils, while the past Faintly impress the mind, or not at all. How readily we wish time spent revoked. That we might try the ground again, where once (Through inexperience, as we now perceive) We miss'd that happiness we might have found ! Some friend is gone, perhaps his son's best friend. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. , 215 A father^ whose authority, in show When most severe, and mustering all its force, Was but the graver countenance of love : Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might lower And utter now and then an awful voice. But had a blessing in its darkest frown, Threatening at once and nourishing the plant. We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand That rear'd us, At a thoughtless age allured By every gilded folly, we renounced His sheltering side, and wilfully forewent That converse, which we now in vain regret How gladly would the man recall to life The boy's neglected sire ! a mother too. That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still. Might he demand them at the gates of death. Sorrow has, since they went, subdued and tamed The playful humour ; he could now endure (Himself grown sober in the vale of tears) And feel a parent's presence no restraint. But not to understand a treasure's worth Till time has stolen away the slighted good. Is cause of half the poverty we feel. And makes the world the wilderness it is. The few that pray at all pray oft ami.Ks, 216 THE TASK. Andj seeking grace to improve the prize they hold. Would urge a wiser suit than asking more. The night was winter in its roughest mood ; The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast. The season smiles, resigning all its rage. And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below. Again the harmony comes o'er the vale ; And through the trees I view the embattled tower Whence all the music. I again perceive The soothing influence of the wafted strains. And settle in soft musings as I tread The walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms. Whose outspread branches overarch the glade. The roof, though moveable through all its length As the wind sways it, has yet well sufficed, And, intercepting in their silent fall The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd : Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light THE WINTEU WALK AT NOON. From spray to spra_y, where'er lie rests lie shakes From many a twig the pendant drops of ice, That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Charms more than silence. Meditation here May think down hours to moments. Here the heart May give a useful lesson to the head^ And Learning wiser grow without his books. Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being one, Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge^ a rude unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which Wisdom builds. Till smooth'd, and squared, and fitted to its place. 218 thl; task. Does but eiiciiiaber wlioui it seems to euricli. Knowledge is pr(jiid that lie lias learu'd so mncli; Wisdom is liumble that he knows no more. Books arc not seldom talismans and spells, By which the magic art of shrewder wits Holds an unthinking- multitude enthrall'd. Some to the fascination of a name Surrender judgment hoodwink'd. Some the style Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds Of error leads them, by a tune entranced. While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear The insupportable fatigue of thought, And swallowijig therefore without pause or choice 1'lie total grist unsifted, husks and all. But trees, and rivulets wliose rapid course Defies tlie check of winter^ haunts of deer. And. shee]iwalks populous with bleating lambs, And lanes, in which the primrose ere her time !ssA* y THE WINTEE WALK AT NOON. 219 Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn root. Deceive no student. Wisdom there^ and truth^ Not shy, as in the world, and to be won By slow solicitation, seize at once The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. What prodigies can power divine perform More grand than it produces year by year. And all in sight of inattentive man ? Familiar with the effect, we slight the cause. And, in the constancy of nature's course, The regular return of genial months, And renovation of a faded world. See nought to wonder at. Should God again, As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race Of the undeviating and punctual sun. How would the world admire ! but speaks it less An agency divine, to make him know His moment when to sink and when to rise. Age after age, than to arrest his course ? All we behold is miracle ; btit, seen So duly, all is miracle in vain. Where now the vital energy that moved. While summer was, the pure and subtle lymph Through the imperceptible meandering veins Of leaf and flower ? It sleeps ; and the icy touch 220 THE TASK. Of unprolific winter Las impress'd A cold stagnation on the intestine tide. But let the months go round, a few short months. And all shall be restored. These naked shoots. Barren as lances, among which the wind Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes. Shall put their graceful foliage on again, And, more aspiring, and with ampler spread, Shall boast new charms, and more than they have lost. Then each, in its peculiar honours clad. Shall publish, even to the distant eye, Its family and tribe. Laburnum, rich In streaming gold ; syringa, ivory pure ; The scentless and the scented rose ; this red. And of an humbler growth, the other * tall. And throwing up into the darkest gloom Of neighbouring cypress, or more sable yew. Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf That the wind severs from the broken wave ; The lilac, various in array, now white. Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set With purple spikes pyramidal, as if. Studious of ornament, yet unresolved Which hue she most approved, she chose them all ; * The Guelder rose. THE WIXTEE WALK AT NOON. 221 Copioas of flowers the woodbine^ pale and wan. But weU compensating her sickly looks With never-cloying odours, early and late ; Hypericum all bloom, so thick a swarm Of flowers, Kke flies, clothing her slender rods. That scarce a leaf appears ; mezereon too. Though leafless, well attired, and thick beset With blushing wreaths, investing every spray ; Althaea with the purple eye ; the broom. Yellow and bright^ as buUion unalloy'd. Her blossoms ; and luxuriant above all The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant sweets, The deep dark green of whose unvamish'd leaf Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more. The bright profusion of her scatter'd stars. — These have been, and these shall be in their day ; And all this uniform, uncolour'd scene Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load. And flush into variety again. From dearth to plenty, and from death to life. Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man In heavenly truth ; evincing, as she makes The grand transition, that there lives and works A soul ia all things, aud that soul is God. The beauties of the wilderness are Lis, 222 THE TASK. That make so gay the solitary place^ Where no eye sees them. And the fairer forms. That cultivation glories in^ are his. He sets the bright procession on its way, And marshals all the order of the year ; He marks the bounds which Winter may not pass, And blunts his pointed fury ; in its case, Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ, Uninjured, with inimitable art ; And, ere one flowery season fades and dies. Designs the blooming wonders of the next. Some say that, in the origin of things. When all creation started into birth. The infant elements received a law. From which they swerve not since ; that under force Of that controlling ordinance they move. And need not his immediate hand, who first Prescribed their course, to regulate it now. Thus dream they, and contrive to save a God The incumbrance of his own concerns, and spare The great artificer of all that moves The stress of a continual act, the pain Of unremitted vigilance and care. As too laborious and severe a task. So man, the moth, is not afraid, it seems. THE WINTEE WALK AT NOON. 223 To span omnipotence, and measure might. That knows no measure, by the scanty rule And standard of his own, that is to-day. And is not ere to-morrow's sun go down. But how should matter occupy a charge. Dull as it is, and satisfy a law So vast in its demands, unless impell'd To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force. And under pressure of some conscious cause ? The Lord of all, himself through all diffused. Sustains and is the life of all that lives. Nature is but a name for an effect. Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire By which the mighty process is maintain'd. Who sleeps not, is not weary ; in whose'sight Slow circling ages are as transient days ; Whose work is without labour ; whose designs No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts ; And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. Him blind antiquity profaned, not served. With self-taught rites, and under various names. Female and male, Pomona, Pales, Pan, And Flora, and Vertumnus ; peopling earth With tutelary goddesses and gods That were not ; and commending as they would 224 THE TASK. To each some provincej garden, field, or grove. But all are under one. One spirit. His Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows. Rules universal nature. Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes. In grains as countless as the seaside sands. The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth. Happy who walks with him ! whom what he finds Of flavour or of scent in fruit or flower. Or what he views of beautiful or grand In nature, from the broad majestic oak To the green blade that twinkles in the sun. Prompts with remembrance of a present God. His presence, who made all so fair, perceived. Makes all still fairer. As with him no scene Is dreary, so with him all seasons please. Though winter had been none, had man been true. And earth be punish'd for its tenant^s sake. Yet not in vengeance ; as this smiling sky. So soon succeeding such an angry night. And these dissolving snows, and this clear stream Eecovering fast its liquid music, prove. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 225 Who theiij that has a mind well strung and tuned To contemplation^ and within his reach A scene so friendly to his favourite task. Would waste attention at the chequer'd board, His host of wooden warriors to and fro Marching and countermarching, with an eye As fix'd as marble, with a forehead ridged And furrow'd into storms, and with a hand Trembling, as if eternity were hung In balance on his conduct of a pin ? Nor envies he aught more their idle sport Who pant with application misapplied To trivial toys, and pushing ivory balls Across a velvet level, feel a joy Akin to rapture, when the bauble finds Its destined goal of difficult access. Nor deems he wiser him, who gives his noon To miss, the mercer's plague, from shop to shop Wandering, and littering with unfolded silks The polish'd counter, and approving none. Or promising with smiles to call again. Nor him who, by his vanity seduced. And soothed into a dream that he discerns The difference of a Guide from a daub. Frequents the crowded auction : station'd there 2 a 226 THE TASK. As duly as the Langford of the show, With glass at eye, and catalogue in hand, And tongue accomplish'd in the fulsome cant And pedantry that coxcombs learn with ease : Oft as the price-deciding hammer falls, He notes it rin his book, then raps his box, Swears 'tis a bargain, rails at his hard fate That he has let it pass — but never bids. Here unmolested, through whatever sign The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist. Nor freezing sky nor sultry, checking me. Nor stranger intermeddling with my joy. E'en in the spring and playtime of the year, That calls the unwonted villager abroad With all her little ones, a sportive train. To gather kingcups in the yellow mead, And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick A cheap but wholesome salad from the brook. These shades are all my own. The timorous hare. Grown so familiar with her frequent guest. Scarce shuns me ; and the stockdove unalarm'd Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends His long love-ditty for my near approach. Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm. That age or injury has hollow'd deep. Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves. 'I'HE WINTER WALK AT KOON. lie lias outslept the winter^ ventures fei-tli To fi'isk awliile, aud Lask in tlic warm smi The squirrelj tli|ipant, liert, ami full of jilav lie sees iiie, aud at ouee, swift as a Ijird, Ascends the neighliouring Ijeech ; there whisks his hrush, xVnd pei'ks his cars, aud stamps, and erics With all the j)rtttincssi t t(]^M d dm And anger insiguihc intl^ fin ( c aloud, 228 THE TASK. The heart is hard in nature, and unfit For human fellowship, as being void Of sympathy^ and therefore dead alike To love and friendship both, that is not pleased With sight of animals enjoying life, Nor feels their happiness augment his own. The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade When none pursues, through mere delight of heart. And spirits buoyant with excess of glee ; The horse as wanton, and almost as fleet. That skims the spacious meadow at full speed. Then stops and snorts, and, throwing high his' heels, Starts to the voluntary race again ; THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 229 The very kine that gambol at high noorij The total herd receiving first from one That leads the dance a summons to be gay^ Though wild their strange vagaries^ and uncouth Their efibrts, yet resolved with one consent To give such act and utterance as they may To ecstasy too big to be suppressed — These, and a thousand images of bliss. With which kind Nature graces every scene, Where cruel man defeats not her design. Impart to the benevolent, who wish All that are capable of pleasure pleased, A far superior happiness to theirs. The comfort of a reasonable joy. Man scarce had risen, obedient to His call Who form'd him from the dust, his future grave. When he was crown'd as never king was since. God set the diadem upon his head. And angel choirs attended. Wondering stood The new-made monarch, while before him pass'd. All happy, and all perfect in their kind. The creatures, summoned from their various haunts To see their sovereign, and confess his sway. Vast was his empire, absolute his power. Or bounded only by a law, whose force 230 THE TASK. ' Twas his sublimest privilege to feel And own, the law of universal love. He ruled with meekness, they obey'd with joy ; No cruel purpose lurkM within his heart. And no distrust of his intent in theirs. So Eden was a scene of harmless sport. Where kindness on his part, who ruled the whole. Begat a tranquil confidence in all. And fear as yet was not, nor cause for fear. But sin marr'd all; and the revolt of man, That source of evils not exhausted yet. Was punish'd with revolt of his from him. Garden of God, how terrible the change Thy groves and lawns then witnessed ! Every heart, Each animal, of every name, conceived A jealousy and an instinctive fear, And, conscious of some danger, either fled Precipitate the loathed abode of man. Or growFd defiance in such angry sort. As taught him too to tremble in his turn. Thus harmony and family accord Were driven from Paradise ; and in that hour The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell' d To such gigantic and enormous growth. Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 231 Hence date the persecution and the pain That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, Regardless of their plaints. To make him sport. To gratify the frenzy of his wrath, Or his base gluttony, are causes good And just in his account, why bird and beast Should suffer torture, and the streams be dyed With blood of their inhabitants impaled. Earth groans beneath the burden of a war Waged with defenceless innocence, while he. Not satisfied to prey on all around. Adds tenfold bitterness to death by pangs Needless, and first torments ere he devours. Now happiest they that occupy the scenes The most remote from his abhorr'd resort. Whom once, as delegate of God on earth. They fear'd, and as his perfect image loved. The wilderness is theirs, with all its caves. Its hollow glens, its thickets, and its plains, Unvisited by man. There they are free. And howl and roar as likes them, uncontroU'd ; Nor ask his leave to slumber or to play. Woe to the tyrant, if he dare intrude Within the confines of their wild domain : The lion tells him — I am monarch here ! 232 THE TASK. And, if lie spare him, spares tim on the terms Of royal mercy, and through generous scorn To rend a victim trembling at his foot. In measure, as by force of instinct drawn. Or by necessity constrained, they live Dependant upon man ; those in his fields. These at his crib, and some beneath his roof; They prove too often at how dear a rate He sells protection. Witness at his foot The spaniel dying for some venial fault. Under dissection of the knotted scourge ; Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells Driven to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs. To madness ; while the savage at his heels Laughs at the frantic sufferer's fury, spent Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown. He too is witness, noblest of the train That wait on man, the flight-performing horse : With unsuspecting readiness he takes His murderer on his back, and, pushed all day. With bleeding sides and fla,nks that heave for life. To the far distant goal, arrives and dies. So little mercy shows who needs so much ! Does law, so jealous in the cause of man. Denounce no doom on the delinquent ? None. THE WINTEE WALK AT NOOJf. 233 He lives, and o'er his brimmiiig beaker boasts (As if barbarity were high desert) The inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose The honours of his matchless horse his own. But many a crime deem'd innocent on earth Is register'd in heaven; and these no doubt Have each their record, with a curse annex'd. Man may dismiss compassion from his heart. But God will never. When he charged the Jew To assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise ; And when the bush-exploring boy, that seized The young, to let the parent bird go free ; Proved he not plainly that his meaner works Are yet his care, and have an interest all. All, in the universal Father's love 'i On Noah, and in him on all mankind. The charter was conferr'd, by which we hold The flesh of animals in fee, and claim O'er all we feed on power of life and death. But read the instrument, and mark it well : The oppression of a tyrannous control Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute ! 2h 234 THE TASK. The Governor of all, himself to all So bountiful, in whose attentive ear The unfledged raven and the lion's whelp Plead not in vain for pity on the pangs Of hunger unassuaged, has interposed, Not seldom, his avenging arm, to smite The injurious trampler upon Nature's law. That claims forbearance even for a brute. He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart ; And, prophet as he was, he might not strike The blameless animal, without rebuke, On which he rode. Her opportune oSence Saved him, or the unrelenting seer had died. He sees that human equity is slack To interfere, though in so just a cause ; And makes the task his own. Inspiring dumb And helpless victims with a sense so keen Of injury, with such knowledge of their strength, And such sagacity to take revenge. That oft the beast has seem'd to judge the man. An ancient, not a legendary tale. By one of sound intelligence rehearsed, (If such who plead for Providence may seem In modern eyes,) shall make the doctrine clear. THE WINTER WALK AT Nqon. ZOO Where England^ stretch'd towards the setting sun^ Narrow and long, o'erlooks the western wave. Dwelt young Misagathus ; a soorner he Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent, Vicious in act, in temper savage-fierce. He journey'd ; and his chance was as he went To join a traveller, of far different note, Evander, famed for piety, for years Deserving honour, but for wisdom more. Fame had not left the venerable man A stranger to the manners of the youth. Whose face too was familiar to his view. Their way was on the margin of the land. O'er the green summit of the rocks, whose base Beats back the roaring surge, scarce heard so high. The charity that warm'd his heart was moved At sight of the man-monster. With a smile Gentle, and affable, and fall of grace. As fearful of offending whom he wish'd Much to persuade, he plied his ear with truths, Not harshly thunder'd forth, or rudely press' d, But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. "And dost thou dream," the impenetrable man Exclaim' d, " that me the lullabies of age, 236 THE TASK. And fantasies of dotards such as thou, Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in me ? Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave Need no such aids as superstition lends, To steel their hearts against the dread of death." He spoke, and to the precipice at hand Push'd with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks. And the blood thrills and curdles at the thought Of such a gulf as he design'd his grave. But though the felon on his back could dare The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed Declined the death, and wheeling swiftly round, Or e'er his hoof had press'd the crumbling verge. Baffled his rider, saved against his will. The frenzy of the brain may be redress'd By medicine well applied, but without grace The heart's insanity admits no cure. Enraged the more by what might have reform'd His horrible intent, again he sought Destruction, with a zeal to be destroy'd. With sounding whip, and rowels dyed in blood. But still in vain. The Providence, that meant A longer date to the far nobler beast, Spared yet again the ignobler for his sake. And now, his prowess proved, and his sincere THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 237 Incurable obduracy evinced, His rage grew cool; and pleased perhaps to have earn'd So cheaply the renown of that attempt. With looks of some complacence he resumed His road, deriding much the blank amaze Of good Evander, still where he was left FixM motionless, and petrified with dread. So on they fared. Discourse on other themes Ensuing seem'd to obliterate the past ; And tamer far for so much fury shown, (A-S is the course of rash and fiery men,) The rude companion smiled, as if transformed. But Hwas a transient calm. A storm was near. An unsuspected storm. His hour was come. The impious challenger of power divine Was now to learn that Heaven, though slow to wrath. Is never with impunity defied. His horse, as he had caught his master's mood. Snorting, and starting into sudden rage, Unbidden, and not now to be controll'd, Eush'd to the cliff, and, having reached it, stood. At once the shock unseated him : he flew Sheer o'er the craggy barrier ; and, immersed Deep in the flood, found, when he sought it not. The death he had deserved, and died alone. 288 THE TASK. So God wrought double justice ; made the fool The victim of his own tremendous choice^ And taught a brute the way to safe revenge. I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polish'd manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path ; But he that has humanity, forewarned. Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight. And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes, A visitor unwelcome, into scenes Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove. The chamber, or refectory, may die : A necessary act incurs no blame. Not so when, held within their proper bounds. And guiltless of offence, they range the air. Or take their pas,time in the spacious field : There they are privileged ; and he that hunts Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong. Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm, Who, when she form'd, designed them an abode. The sum is this. If man's convenience, health. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 239 Or safety interfere, his rights and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. Else they are all — the meanest things that are — As free to live, and to enjoy that life, As God was free to form them at the first. Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all. Te, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons To love it too. The spring-time of our years Is soon dishonour'd and defiled in most By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand To check them. But, alas ! none sooner shoots. If unrestrainM, into luxuriant growth. Than cruelty, most devilish of them all. Mercy to him that shows it is the rule And righteous limitation of its act, By which Heaven moves in pardoning guilty man ; And he that shows none, being ripe in years. And conscious of the outrage he commits. Shall seek it, and not find it, in his turn. Distinguished much by reason, and still more By our capacity of grace divine. From creatures that exist but for our sake, Which, having served us, perish, we are held Accountable ; and God, some future day. Will reckon with us roundly for the abuse 240 THE TASK. Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust. Superior as we are, they yet depend Not more on human help than we on theirs. Their strength, or speed, or vigilance, were given In aid of our defects. In some are found Such teachable and apprehensive parts. That man's attainments in his own concerns, Match'd with the expertness of the brutes in theirs, Are ofbtimes vanquish'd and thrown far behind. Some show that nice sagacity of smell. And read with such discernment, in the port And figure of the man, his secret aim. That oft we owe our safety to a skill We could not teach, and must despair to learn. But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop To quadruped instructors, many a good And useful quality, and virtue too, Earely exemplified among ourselves — Attachment never to be wean'd or changed By any change of fortune ; proof alike Against unkindness, absence, and neglect ; Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat Can move or warp ; and gratitude for small And trivial favours, lasting as the life. And glistening even in the dying eye. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 241 Man praises man. Desert in arts or arms Wins public honour ; and ten thousand sit Patiently present at a sacred song, Commemoration-mad; content to hear (0 wonderful effect of music's power !) Messiah's eulogy for Handel's sake. But less, methinks, than sacrilege might serve — (For was it less, what heathen would have dared To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath. And hang it up in honour of a man ?) Much less might serve, when all that we design Is but to gratify an itching ear. And give the day to a musician's praise. Eemember Handel ? Who, that was not born Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets. Or can, the more than Homer of his age ? Yes — we remember him ; and while we praise A talent so divine, remember too That His most holy book, from whom it came. Was never meant, wa:s never used before. To buckram out the memory of a man. But hush ! — the muse perhaps is too severe ; And, with a gravity beyond the size And measure of the offence, rebukes a deed Less impious than absurd, and owing more 242 THE TASK. To want of judgment than to wrong design. So in the chapel of old Ely House, When wandering Charles, who meant to be the third. Had fled from William, and the news was fresh, The simple clerk, but loyal, did announce. And eke did rear right merrily, two staves. Sung to the praise and glory of King George ! — Man praises man ; and Garrick's meniory next, When time hath somewhat mellowM it, and made The idol of our worship while he lived The god of our idolatry once more. Shall have its altar ; and the world shall go In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine. The theatre, too small, shall suffocate Its squeezed contents, and more than it admits Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return Ungratified : for there some noble lord Shall stuff his shoulders with king Richard's hunch, Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak. And strut, and storm, and straddle, stamp, and stare. To show the world how Garriek did not act — For Garriek was a worshipper himself; He drew the liturgy, and framed the rites And solemn ceremonial of the day. And call'd the world to worship on the banks THE WINTEIJ WALK AT NOON. 24.'! Of Avon, famed in song. Ali, pleasant proof That piety has still in liuman hearts Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct. The mulberry-tree was hung with blooming- wreath The mnlbeny-tree stood centre of the dance ; The mnlbei-ry-tree was liymn'd with dulcet airs ; And from his touchwood truidc the mnlberr3"-tree Supplied such relics as devotion holds 244 THE TASK. Still sacredj and preserves with pious care. So 't was a hallowed time : decorum reign' d, And mirth without offence. No few return'd, Doubtless much edified, and all refresh' d. — Man praises man. The rabble, all alive. From tippling benches, cellars, stalls, and styes. Swarm in the streets. The statesman of the day, A pompous and slow-moving pageant, comes. Some shout him, and some hang upon his car. To gaze in his eyes, and bless him. Maidens wave Their kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy ; While others, not so satisfied, unhorse The gilded equipage, and, turning loose His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve. Why ? What has charm'd them ? Hath he saved the state? No. Doth he purpose its salvation ? No. Enchanting novelty, that moon at full. That finds out every crevice of the head That is" not sound and perfect, hath in theirs Wrought this disturbance. But the wane is near. And his own cattle must suffice him soon. Thus idly do we waste the breath of praise, And dedicate a tribute, in its use And just direction sacred, to a thing THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 245 Doom'd to the dust, or lodged already there. Encomium in old time was poet's work ; But poets, having lavishly long since Exhausted all materials of the art, The task now falls into the public hand; And I, contented with an humble theme, Have pour'd my stream of panegyric down The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds Among her lovely works with a secure And unambitious course, reflecting clear. If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes. And I am recompensed, and deem the toils Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine May stand between an animal and woe. And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge. The groans of Nature in this nether world. Which heaven has heard for ages, have an end. Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung, Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp. The time of rest, the promised sabbath, comes. Six thousand years of sorrow have well nigh Pulfill'd their tardy and disastrous course Over a sinful world ; and what remains Of this tempestuous state of human things Is merely as the working of a sea 246 THE TASK. Before a calm, that rocks itself to rest : For He whose car the winds are, and the clouds The dust that waits upon his sultry march. When sin hath moved him, and his wrath is hot, Shall visit earth in mercy ; shall descend Propitious in his chariot paved with love ; And what his storms have blasted and defaced For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair. Sweet is the harp of prophecy,; too sweet Not to be wrong'd by a mere mortal touch : Nor can the wonders it records be sung To meaner music, and not suffer loss. But when a poet, or when one like me, Happy to rove among poetic flowers. Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair. Such is the impulse and the spur he feels. To give it praise proportion''d to its worth, That not to attempt it, arduous as he deems The labour, were a task more arduous still. O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true. Scenes of accomplish'd bliss ! which who can see. Though but in distant prospect, and not feel His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy ? Eivers of gladness water all the earth, THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 247 And clothe all climes with beauty ; the reproach Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field Laughs with abundance ; and the land^ once lean^ Or fertile only in its own disgrace. Exults to see its thistly curse repeal'd. The various seasons woven into one, And that one season an eternal spring. The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence. For there is none to covet, all are full. The lion, and the libbard, and the bear, Graze with the fearless flocks ; all bask at noon Together, or all gambol in the shade Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. Antipathies are none. No foe to man Lurks in the serpent now : the mother sees, And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm, To stroke his azure neck, or to receive The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. All creatures worship man, and all mankind One Lord, one Father. Error has no place; That creeping pestilence is driven away ; The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart No passion touches a discordant string. But all is harmony and love. Disease 248 THE TASK. Is not : the pure and uncontaminate blood Holds its due course^ nor fears the frost of age. One song employs all nations ; and all cry, " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us \" The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, nation after nation taught the strain. Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. Behold the measure of the promise fiU'd ; See Salem built, the labour of a God ! Bright as a sun, the sacred city shines ; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light ; the glory of all lands Flows into her ; unbounded is her joy. And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there ; * The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, And Saba's spicy groves, pay tribute there. Praise is in all her gates : upon her walls. And in her streets, and in her spacious courts. Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there * Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progenitors of the Arabs, in the prophetic scripture here alluded to, may be reasonably considered as representatives of the Gentiles at large. THE WINTKE WALK A'[' NOON. 240 Kneels witli the native of the farthest west ; And Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand, And worships. Her report has travell'd forth Into all lands. From every clime they come To see thy beauty, and to share thy joy, Sion ! an assembly such as earth Saw never, such as Heaven stoops down to see. Thus heavenward all things tend. For all were once Perfect, and all must bo at length restored. So God has greatly purposed ; wlio would else In his dishonour'd works himself endure Dishonour, and be wrong'd without redress. Haste, then, and wheel away a shatter'd world, Ye slow-revolving seasons ! we would see (A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet) A world that does not dread and hate his law. And suffer for its crime ; would learn how fair The creature is that God pronounces good. How pleasant in itself what pleases him. Here every drop of honey hides a sting ; Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flowers. And e'en the joy that haply some poor heart Derives from heaven, pure as the fountain is. Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint From touch of human lips, at best impure. 2k 250 THJi TA.tK. for a world in principle as chaste As this is gross and selfish ! over which Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway, That govern all things here, shouldering aside The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her To seek a refuge from the tongue of Strife In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men : Where Violence shall never lift the sword, Nor Cunning justify the proud man's wrong, Leaving the poor no remedy but tears : Where he, that fills an office, shall esteem The occasion it presents of doing good More than the perquisite : where Law shall speak Seldom, and never but as Wisdom prompts And Equity ; not jealous more to guard A worthless form, than to decide aright : — Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse. Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace) With lean performance ape the work of Love ! Come then, and, added to thy many crowns. Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth. Thou who alone art worthy ! It was thine By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth ; And thou hast made it thine by purchase since. And overpaid its value with thy blood. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 251 Thy saints proclaim thee King : and in their hearts Thy title is engraven with a pen Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love. Thy saints proclaim thee King ; and thy delay Gives courage to their foes, who, could they see The dawn of thy last advent, long desired, Would creep into the bowels of the hills. And flee for safety to the falling rocks. The very spirit of the world is tired Of its own taunting question, askM so long, " Where is the promise of your Lord's approach ? " The infidel has shot his bolts away. Till, his exhausted quiver yielding none, He gleans the blunted shafts that have recoil'd. And aims them at the shield of Truth again. The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hands. That hides divinity from mortal eyes ; And all the mysteries to faith proposed. Insulted and traduced, are cast aside. As useless, to the moles and to the bats. They now are deem'd the faithful, and are praised. Who, constant only in rejecting thee. Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal. And quit their office for their error's sake. Blind, and in love with darkness ! yet e'en these THE TASK. Worthy^ compared with sycophants, who kneel Thy name adoring, and then preach thee man ! So fares thy church. But how thy church may fare. The world takes little thought. Who will may preach. And what they will. All pastors are alike. To wandering sheep, resolved to follow none. Two gods divide them all — Pleasure and Gain : For these they live, they sacrifice to these. And 'in their service wage perpetual war \\'^ith Conscience and with thee. Lust in their hearts. And mischief in their hands, they i-oam the earth To prey upon each other : stubborn, fierce. High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace. Thy prophets speak of such ; and, noting down The features of the last degenerate times. Exhibit every lineament of these. Come then, and, added to thy many crowns. Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest. Due to thy last and most effectual work. Thy word fulfill' d, the conquest of a world ! He is the happy man, whose life e'en now Shows somewhat of that happier life to come ; Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state. Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose. Would make his fate his choice ; whom peace, the fruit THE WIXTEH WALK AT XOOX. '!■ Of virtue^ and whom virtue^ fruit of faith^ Prepare for happiness ; bespeak him one Content indeed to sojonrn while he must Below the skies, but having there his home. The world overlooks him in her busy search Of objects more illustrious in her view; And, occupied as earnestly as she. Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world. She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not ; He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain. He cannot skim the ground like summer birds Pursuing gilded flies ; and such he deems Her honours, her emoluments, her joys. Therefore in Contemplation is his bliss, ^Vhose power is such, that whom she lifts from earth She makes familiar with a heaven unseen. And shows him glories yet to be reveal'd. Xot slothful he, though seeming un employ 'd. And censured oft as useless. Stillest streams Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird That flutters least is longest on the wing. Ask hiui, indeed, what trophies he has raised, Or what achievements of immortal fame He purposes, and he shall answer — Xone. His warfare is within. There unfatigaed 254 THE TASK. His fervent spirit labours. There lie fights^ And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself, And never-withering wreaths, compared with which The laurels that a Caesar reaps are weeds. Perhaps the self-approving haughty world. That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks Scarce deigns to notice him, or, if she see. Deems him a cipher in the works of God, Receives advantage from his noiseless hours. Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring And plenteous harvest, to the prayer he makes. When, Isaac-like, the solitary saint Walks forth to meditate at even-tide. And think on her, who thinks not for herself. Forgive him, then, thou bustler in concerns Of little worth, an idler in the best. If, author of no mischief and some good, He seeks his proper happiness by means That may advance, but cannot hinder, thine. Nor, though he tread the secret path of life. Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease. Account him an encumbrance on the state, Eeceiving benefits, and rendering none. His sphere though humble, if that humble Sphere THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 2-j5 Shine with his fair example, and though small His influence, if that influence all be spent Tn soothing sorrow and in quenching strife, In aiding helpless indigence, in works From which at least a grateful few derive Some taste of comfort in a world of woe. Then let the supercilious great confess He serves his country, recompenses well The state, beneath the shadow of whose vine He sits secure, and in the scale of life Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place. The man, whose virtues are more felt than seen. Must drop indeed the hope of public praise ; But he may boast, what few that win it can, That, if his country stand not by his skill, At least his follies have not wrought her fall. Polite Refinement offers him in vain Her golden tube, through which a sensual world Draws gross impurity, and likes it well. The neat conveyance hiding all the offence. Not that he peevishly rejects a mode Because that world adopts it. If it bear The stamp and clear impression of good sense. And be not costly more than of true worth, He puts it on, and, for decorum sake. 25G THE TASK. Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she. She judges of refinement by the eye^ He by the test of conscience, and a heart Not soon deceived ; aware that what is base No polish can make sterling ; and that vice, Though well perfumed and elegantly dress' d. Like an unburied carcass trick' d with flowers. Is but a garnish'd nuisance, iitter far For cleanly riddance than for fair attire. So life glides smoothly and by stealth away. More goldehthan that age of fabled gold Eenown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care Or stain'd with guilt, beneficent, approved Of God and man, and peaceful in its end. So glide my life away ! and so, at last. My share of duties decently fulfill' d. May some disease, not tardy to perform Its destined office, yet with gentle stroke, Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat, Beneath the turf that I have often trod. It shall not grieve me, then, that once, when call'd To dress a Sofa with the flowers of verse. I play'd awhile, obedient to the fair. With that light task ; but soon, to please her more. Whom flowers alone I knew would little please. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. ;-3/ Let fall the uufiuisli'd wreath^ and roved for fruit ; Eoved far, and gatlierM iiuicli ; some luirsb, 'tis true, Pick'd from the tliorns and briars df reproof, But wholesome, well-digested ; grateful some. To palates that can taste immortal truth ; Insipid else, and sure t<.) be despised. But all is in His hand, whose praise 1 seek. In vain the poet sings, and the world hears. If he reo'ard not, though divine the theme. 'Tis not in artful measures, in the chime 258 THE TASK. And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre, To charm his ear, whose eye is on the heart ; Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, Whose approbation — prosper even mine. THE FOLLOWING ACCOUNT OF THE TREATMENT OF HIS HA.RES WAS INSEHIED BY COTTPER IN THE GENTLEMAu's MAGAZINE. In the year 1774, being much indisposed both in mind and body, incapable of diverting myself either with company or books, and yet in a condition that made some diversion necessary, I was glad of anything that would engage my attention, without fatiguing it. The children of a neighbour of mine had a leveret given them for a plaything: it was at that time about three months old. Under- standing better how to tease the poor creature than to feed it, and soon becoming weary of their charge, they readily consented that their father, who saw it pining and growing leaner every day, should offer it to my acceptance. I was willing enough to take the prisoner under my protection, perceiving that, in the management of such an animal, and in the attempt to tame it, I should find just that sort of employment which my case required. It was soon known among the neighbours that I was pleased with the present, and the conse- quence was, that in a short time I had as many leverets offered to me as would have stocked a paddock. I tmdertook the care of three, which it is necessary that I should here distinguish by the names I gave them — Puss, Tiney, and Bess. Notwithstanding the two feminine appellatives, I must inform you, that they were all males. Immediately commencing carpenter, I built them houses to sleep in ; each had a separate apartment, so contrived that their ordure would pass through the bottom of it ; an earthen pan placed under each, received whatsoever fell, which being duly emptied and washed, they were thus kept perfectly sweet and clean. In the daytime they had the range of a liall, and at night retired each to his own bed, never intruding into that of another. Puss oTew presently familiar, would leap into my lap, raise himself 260 NOTE. upon his hinder feet, and bite the hair from my temples. He would suffer me to take him up, and to carry him about in my arms, and has more than once fallen fast asleep upon my knee. He was ill three days, during which time I nursed him, kept him apart from his fellows, that they might not molest him (for, like many other wild animals, they persecute one of their own species that is sick), and by constant care, and trying him with a variety of herbs, restored him to perfect health. No creature could be more grateful than my patient after his recovery ; a sentiment which he most significantly expressed by licking my hand, first the back of it, then the palm, then every finger separately, then between all the fingers, as if anxious to leave no parb of it ufisaluted; a ceremony which he never performed but once again upon a similar occasion. Finding him extremely tractable, I made it my custom to carry him always after breakfast into the garden, where he hid himself generally under the leaves of a cucumber vine, sleeping or chewing the cud till evening ; in the leaves also of that vine he found a favourite repast. I had not long habituated him to this taste of liberty, before he began to be impatient for the return of the time when ho might enjoy it. He would invite me to the garden by drumming upon my knee, and by a look of such expression as it was not possible to misinterpret. If this rhetoric did not immediately succeed, he would take the skirt of my coat betwefiu his teeth, and pull it with all his force. Thus Pitss might be said to be perfectly tamed ; the shyness of his nature was done away, and on the whole it was visible by many symptoms, which I have not room to enumerate, that he was happier in human society than when shut up with his natural companions. Not so Tiney ; upon him the kindest treatment had not the least effect. He too was sick, and in his sickness had an equal share of my attention ; but if, after his recovery, I took the liberty to stroke him, he would grunt, strike with his fore feet, spring forward, and bite. He was, however, very entertaining in his way ; even his surliness was matter of mirth, and in his play he preserved such an air of gravity, and performed his feats with such a solemnity of manner, that in him too I had an agreeable companion. 261 NOTE. Bess, who died soon after he was full grown, and whose death was occasioned by his being turned into his box, which had been washed, while it was yet damp, was a hare of great humour and drollery. Puss was med by gentle usage ; Tiney was not to be tamed at all ; and Bess had a, courage and confidence that made him tame from the beginning. I always admitted them into the parlour after supper, when, the carpet afibrding their feet a firm hold, they would frisk, and bound, and play a thousand gambols, in which Bess, being remarkably strong and fearless, was always superior to the rest, and proved himself the Vestris of the party. One evening, the cat being in the room, had the hardiness to pat Bess upon the cheek, an indignity which he resented by drumming upon her back with such violence that the cat was happy to escape from under his paws, and hide herself. I describe these animals as having each a character of his own. Such they were in fact, and their countenances were so expressive of that character, that, when I looked only on the face of either, I immediately knew which it was. It is said that a shepherd, how- ever numerous his flock, soon becomes so familiar with their features, that he can, by that indication only, distinguish each from all the rest ; and yet to a common observer, the difference is hardly per- ceptible. I doubt not that the same discrimination in the cast of countenances would be discoverable in hares, and am persuaded that among a thousand of them no two could be found exactly similar — a circumstance little suspected by those who have not had opportunity to observe it. These creatures have a singular sagacity in discover- ing the minutest alteration that is made in the place to which they are accustomed, and instantly apply their nose to the examination of a new object. A small hole being burnt in the carpet, it was mended with a patch, and that patch, in a moment underwent the strictest scrutiny. They seem too to bo very much directed by the smell in their choice of their favourites ; to some persons, though they saw them daily, they could never be reconciled, and would even scream when they attempted to touch them ; but a miller coming in engaged their affections at once; his powdered coat had charms that were 262 NOTE. irresistible. It is no wonder that my intimate acquaintance with these specimens of the kind has taught me to hold the sportsman's amusement in abhorrence ; he little knows what amiable creatures he persecutes, of what gratitude they are capable, how cheerful they are in their spirits, what enjoyment they have of life, and that, impressed as they seem with a peculiar dread of man, it is only because man gives them peculiar cause for it. That I may not be tedious, I will just give a short summary of those articles of diet that suit them best. I take it to be a general opinion that they graze, but it is an erroneous one, at least grass is not their staple ; they seem rather to use it medicinally, soon quitting it for leaves of almost any kind. Sowthistle, dandelion, and lettuce, are their favourite vegetables, especially the last. I discovered by accident that fine white sand is in great estimation with them ; I suppose as a digestive. It hap- pened that I was cleaning a birdcage when the hares were with me ; I placed a pot filled with such sand upon the floor, which, being at once directed to it by a strong instinct, they devoured voraciously ; since that time I have generally taken care to see them well supplied with it. They account green corn a, delicacy, both blade and stalk, but the ear they seldom eat ; straw of any kind, especially wheat- straw, is another of their dainties : they will feed greedily upon oats, but if furnished with clean straw never want them ; it serves them also for a bed, and, if shaken up daily, will be kept sweet and dry for a considerable time. They do not indeed require aromatic herbs, but will eat a small quantity of them with great relish, and are par- ticularly fond of the plant called musk ; they seem to resemble sheep in this, that if their pasture be too succulent, they are very subject to the rot ; to prevent which, I always made bread their principal nourishment, and, filling a pan with it cut into small squares, placed it every evening in their chambers, for they feed only at evening and in the night ; during the winter, when vegetables were not to be got, I mingled this mess of bread with shreds of carrot, adding to it the rind of apples cut extremely thin ; for, though they are fond of the paring, the apple itself disgusts them. These, however, not NOTE. 263 being a sufficient substitute for the juice of summer herbs, thej- must at this time be supplied with water ; but so placed, that they cannot overset it into their beds. I must not omit, that occasionally they are much pleased with twigs of hawthorn, and of the common briar, eating even the very wood when it is of considerable thickness. Bess, I have said, died young : Tiney lived to be nine years old, and died at last, I have reason to think, of some hurt in his loins by a fall ; Puss is still living, and has just completed his tenth year, discovering no signs of decay, nor even of age, except that he is grown more discreet and less frolicsome than he was. I cannot conclude without observing, that I have lately introduced a dog to his acquaintance — a spaniel that had never seen a hare, to a hare that had never seen a spaniel. I did it with great caution, but there was no real need of it. Puss discovered no token of fear, nor Marquis the least symptom of hostility. There is therefore, it should seem, no natural antipathy between dog and hare ; but the pursuit of the one occasions the flight of the other, and the dog pursues because he is trained to it ; they eat bread at the same time out of the same hand, and are in all respects sociable and friendly. I should not do complete justice to my subject, did I not add, that they have no ill scent belonging to them, that they are indefatigably nice in keeping themselves clean, for which purpose nature has furnished them with a brush under each foot, and that they are never infested by any vermin. May 28, 1784. Memokandum found among Mb. Cowpeb's Papers. Tuesday, March 9, 1786. — This day died poor Puss, aged eleven years eleven months. He died between twelve and one at noon, of mere old age. and apparently without pain. LONDON : PRINTEU BY EDMUND EV.\NS, RAQUET COURT. :^''' :A\'.