■?*■ 
 
FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
 
 REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 
 
 THE   LIBRARY  OF 
 PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 
 
 i%U. 
 
THE 
 
 COLLECTED   POEMS 
 
 THE  REV.  T.   GRINFIELD, 
 
 la  One  Volume. 
 
Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
 in  2013 
 
 http://archive.org/details/epistlesmOOgrin 
 
Rf  »  Pfflf^ 
 
 'V/ 
 
 EPISTLEi^*1131936 
 
 AND 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS  GRINFIELD, 
 
 OF    TRINITY    COLLEGE,    CAMBRIDGE. 
 "IGNOSCENDA  QUIDEM."        Vikg. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED  FOR  GALE,  CURTIS,  AND  FENNER, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW  ; 
 
 j.  conder,  st.  Paul's  church-  yard  ;  barry;  Norton;  frost, 
 Bristol;  upham,  bath;  upham,  exeter;  and  deighton  and 
 sons,  cambridge: 
 
 By  S.  Hamilton,  Weybridge,  Surrey. 
 1S15. 
 
The  Author  is  not  aware  of  any  thing  worth 
 mention  respecting  the  following  Poems,  except 
 it  be  the  occasional  appropriation  and  intertexture 
 of  an  expression  from  our  established  poets.  The 
 more  important  debts  of  this  kind  he  has  acknow- 
 ledged in  what  appeared  the  shortest  and  least 
 ostentatious  way,  that  of  quotation-commas;  and 
 for  the  few  which  may  not  have  been  thus  acknow- 
 ledged, he  supposes  acknowledgment  to  be  super- 
 fluous. 
 
 Ciifton,  April  20, 
 1815. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 EPISTLES  : 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I.  To  C.  N****,  Esq 1 
 
 II.  To  J.F.  B*****,  Esq 10 
 
 III.  To  Robert  Southey 18 
 
 IV.  To  Walter  Scott,  Esq 26 
 
 V.  To  Miss  P****** ' 54 
 
 VI.  To  C.N****,  Esq 39 
 
 VII.  To  T.  F.  B*****,  Esq 48 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS  : 
 
 Memory 59 
 
 Hope  and  Memory 63 
 
 Killicrankie 64 
 
 A  Sea-side  Contemplation 69 
 
 Snowdon 80 
 
 The  Seasons,  painting  the  Year 91 
 
 Apostrophe  to  Nature 96 
 
 Written  on  May-Morning 97 
 
 "  Vates  Quid  Orat  ?" 98 
 
 Horace,— -Ode  vi.  Book  2 101 
 
 Horace, — Ode  xiv.  Book  2 103 
 
 ADDRESSES  : 
 
 To  a  Young  Lady,  fond  of  Wild  Scenery 105 
 
 To  a  Sister,  on  her  Birth-day 108 
 
Vill  CONTENTS. 
 
 4  PAGE 
 
 To  Miss  ****** 112 
 
 To  the  Same ,    .    .  113 
 
 The  Student  to  his  Sisters      .     . 114 
 
 To  Clara 117 
 
 To  the  Same . 119 
 
 To  an  Invalid 121 
 
 To  Miss  ****,  on  her  Birth-day 124 
 
 To  Maria,  on  her  presenting  him  with  a  Rose  painted  by 
 
 herself 126 
 
 To  the  Same,  on  her  completing  the  first  Year  of  her  Marriage  127 
 To  the  Same.    (With  some  Clothes  for  the  Poor.)  .     .     .     .129 
 
 To  Cara 131 
 
 To  the  Same 154 
 
 To  the  Same.  (With  the  Presents  mentioned.)  .....  137 
 To  the  Same.  (With  a  Manuscript  Volume  of  original  Poems.)  138 
 Left  on  a  Table  in  the  House  of  some  Friends,  at  parting   .  142 
 
 Fancy  and  Reason.    A  Vision 144 
 
 Essay  on  the  Formation  of  Genius,  as  exemplified  in  the 
 
 poetical  character 158 
 
 The  Sixth  Book  of  the  JEneid " 192 
 
 To  my  Father- 241 
 
 Vanity  of  Fame 245 
 
EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE  I. 
 TO  C.   N****,   ESQ. 
 
 OF  ST.  JOHN'S  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE, 
 
 "  Pene  mihi  puero  cognite  pene  puer!" 
 
 Ovid. 
 
 Friend  of  my  youth,  that  oft,  in  school-boy  age, 
 Hast  shar'd  my  walk,  and  turn'd  the  social  page  ; 
 Heighten'd  my  gay,  reliev'd  my  serious  mood, 
 And  join'd  my  song  in  classic  solitude ; 
 Where  Kentish  Cray  divides  the  pastoral  glade, 
 And  Scadbury  casts  her  time-ennobled  shade : — 
 These  lays  be  thine ;  nor  needs  the  formal  phrase 
 Implore  thy  candour  on  these  artless  lays ; 
 Well  canst  thou  sink  the  critic  in  the  friend, 
 Nor  heed  neglect — but  such  as  love  can  mend* 
 
2  EPISTLES. 
 
 How  chang'd  the  scene !  how  vision-like  appears 
 The  memory  of  those  dear  departed  years ! — 
 Light  were  thy  toils,  and  oft  in  stealth  bestow'd 
 On  new-bought  tale  or  meditated  ode ; 
 Lighter  thy  sports  ;  the  wood-walk  prattle  held 
 With  sprightly  girls ;  the  feather'd  cork  repell'd 
 From  each  to  each  by  echoing  battledoor ; 
 The  chessmen  marshal'd  o'er  their  checquer'd  floor; 
 The  blindfold  hero  groping  for  his  prey,  [tray. 
 
 Whom,  huddling  into  nooks,  their  titter'd  jeers  be- 
 Now,  where  the  Muses  on  our  Granta  smile, 
 And  lingering  Camus  laves  thy  Margaret's  pile,* 
 Far  other  toils  the  livelong  daylight  share, 
 Far  other  sports  the  wearied  mind  repair. 
 There  Fancy  forms  thee,  in  the  cloister'd  cell 
 Where  lines  perplex'd  and  pale-eyed  musings  dwell, 
 Bending  with  studious  murmur  o'er  thy  books, 
 (What  stern  attention  furrow'd  on  those  looks !) 
 Dislodging  doubts  of  sightless  error  bred, 
 And  centering  all  sage  Newton  in  thy  head. 
 There  in  the  green  arcades  I  see  thee  rove, 
 That  ill  reflect  thy  Scadbury's  humbler  grove ; 
 
 *  St.  John's  college,  founded  by  Lady  Margaret,  mother  of 
 Henry  VII. 
 
EPISTLES.  g 
 
 With  social  oar  adown  the  river  glide, 
 
 That  gives  not  back  thy  Cray's  ignobler  tide. 
 
 Oh  poor  exchange,  when,  chas'd    by  sobering 
 cares, 
 Young  Laughter  spreads  his  wings,  and  disappears  ! 
 Yet  points  thy  secret  heart,  ( if  right  I  guess, ) 
 To  rural  ease  and  home-born  sprightliness. 
 
 What  of  thy  friend  ?  Retir'd  from  Camus'  brink, 
 Vacant  at  length  to  see,  and  feel,  and  think, 
 Thy  friend,  while  Nature  wears  her  summer  smile, 
 With  broad  observance  rounds  his  parent  isle, 
 Smit  with  the  love  of  beauteous  and  sublime ; 
 Where  Cumbrian  fells,  a  craggy  chaos,  climb, 
 And,  fair  Ulleswater,  mirror'd  on  thy  breast, 
 The  bordering  shades  and  huge  Helvellyn  rest. 
 
 Awe-struck,  anon,  with  torch  in  hand,  I  seek 
 The  sunless  wonders  of  the  cavern'd  Peak, 
 And  eye,  grotesquely  pendent  o'er  my  head, 
 Those  fairy  forms,  of  mineral  moisture  bred, 
 In  clusters  gleaming  thro'  their  earth-cold  gloom, 
 Rich  as  the  fret-work  of  some  Gothic  dome. 
 
 But  chief  where  Gwyneth,  favourite  land,  extends  ; 
 Where  in  his  clouded  majesty  ascends 
 
 b  2 
 
4  EPISTLES. 
 
 Arvonian  Snowdon,  erst  with  minstrelsy 
 Hail'd  by  the  bards  of  Cambria,  late  by  me :  * — 
 Land  of  the  savage  steep  and  dark  defile, 
 That  make  thy  meadowy  vales  more  sweetly  smile  ; 
 Land  of  the  torrent  flashing  from  its  height ; 
 Land  of  the  harp  and  music's  dear  delight ; 
 Land  of  the  castle,  ruinous  and  hoar, 
 That  points  us  to  the  stormy  times  of  yore  • 
 Land  of  a  race  how  beautifully  rude ; 
 Land  of  each  wilder,  each  sublimer  mood  ; 
 Land  of  my  heart ! — 'Tis  here  ev'n  now  I  stray 
 Enchanted  ;  here,  while  Autumn  steals  the  day, 
 The  varied  forms  of  life  and  nature  scan, 
 The  varied  views  of  mountain  and  of  man. 
 Way-worn  each  night,  my  curious  ramblings  o'er, 
 I  seek  the  peasant's  hospitable  door ; 
 Where  household  wisdom  disciplines  desires, 
 And  teaches  pride  how  little  man  requires. 
 Oft,  in  the  dreamy  mood  entranc'd  as  there 
 I  list  some  hoary  harper's  plaintive  air, 
 
 *  See  the  poem  on  Snowdon,— The  Welch  call  North  Wales 
 Gwynetlu 
 
EPISTLES. 
 
 Those  antique  scenes,  by  Southey's  touch  so  bright, 
 (As  'twere  by  magic  spell,)  re-wak'd  to  light, 
 Rise  on  my  soul,  and  swim  before  her  sight. 
 I  view  thee,  Madoc,  feasting  high,  with  all 
 Those  warrior-nobles  in  Abafraw's  hall ; 
 Then,  while  attention  strains  the  general  ear, 
 Painting  the  new-detected  hemisphere : 
 — Sudden  the  harp  has  paus'd,  the  dreams  retire; 
 A  labour-group  surrounds  the  turf-built  fire. 
 
 Oh,  why  was  Nature,  primitively  plain, 
 Disguis'd,  distorted,  by  Refinement's  reign  ? 
 Why   hast    thou,    Art,    reversed   her    heav'n-born 
 
 rules  ? 
 Why  to  throng'd  capitals  and  prattling  schools, 
 To  courts  and  senates,  are  we  dragg'd  away 
 From  these  her  haunts,  thus  innocently  gay  ? 
 Here  had  I  liv'd  her  child ;  the  filial  breast 
 Had  kept  each  trace  her  honest  hand  impress'd ; 
 Here  had  I  liv'd  and  died,  inglorious,  not  unblest. 
 Now  with  the  tide  I  tamely  float  along, 
 Led,  (like  the  world,)  in  Art's  triumphal  throng. 
 Oh,  we  have  barter'd  manners,  chaste  as  free, 
 For  dull  and  lying  forms  of  courtesy ; 
 
6  EPISTLES. 
 
 Have  bartered  pleasures,  vigorous  as  obscure, 
 For  painted  pomp,  for  luxury's  languid  lure, 
 For  boastful  unsubstantial  literature  ; 
 Beggar'd  of  all  the'  authentic  heart  had  taught, 
 Life's    unbought   grace,   and  Feeling's   unprun'd 
 
 thought ; 
 Till,  now,  coy  Nature  half  the  land  has  fled, 
 And  midst  these  shadowing  mountains  hides  her 
 head. 
 
 But  such  are  schemes  of  visionary  bliss  : 
 From  life  that  might  be — wake  to  life  that  is  : 
 Trace  we  the  map  just  opening  on  our  view; 
 Where  shall  we  light  ?  what  favourite  path  pursue  ? 
 
 Thee  I  behold  some  rural  bye-walk  tread, 
 Behold  thy  worth  a  mellow  radiance  shed 
 Around  its  felt  abode,  rever'd,  belov'd 
 By  all  the  village  which  that  worth  improv'd : 
 Blest  village !  blest  each  roof  where  thou  art  known  ! 
 But  hers,  thrice  blest,  who  calls  thee  all  her  own ! 
 Hers  is  thy  wealth  of  wit,  thy  gentle  vein ; 
 But  let  not  her  monopolize  thy  strain. 
 
 1  praise  thee,  friend,  thy  sound  resolves  admire : 
 Then  pity  judgment  thwarted  by  desire ! — 
 
EPISTLES.  / 
 
 Were  I  my  own ;  would  Heaven  to  hands  of  mine 
 
 The  reins  and  mastership  of  life  resign  ; 
 
 Forth  from  the  well-known   scene   and  cherish'd 
 
 hearth, 
 To  rove  the  realms  of  many-featur'd  earth, 
 I'd  issue  :  first  the  bloomy  landscapes  eye 
 Of  mild  and  monumental  Italy  ; 
 Borne,  in  my  way,  o'er  sky-clad  Alps  august, 
 *The  Switzer's  haunt,  where  Cambrian  hills  are  lost, 
 Where  blazes  the  magnificence  of  frost : 
 Next,  where  Sicilian  Etna,  Vulcan's  throne, 
 Rears  on  a  base  how  vast  her  cavern'd  cone  ;* 
 Or  where  broad  Nile,  his  birth  sublimely  hid, 
 Sees  heavenward  point  the  Memphian  pyramid ; 
 Or,  dearer  far  to  heaven-illumin'd  souls, 
 Rises  green  Olivet,  blue  Jordan  rolls : 
 Nor  thou,  lorn  Greece,  be  slighted  ;  nor  the  throng 
 Of  islets,  memoriz'd  in  living  song. 
 
 If  still  the'  insatiate  eye  her  banquet  woo'd, 
 Nor  soft  regrets  my  truant  flight  pursued, 
 Hence  o'er  the  wave  I'd  stretch  my  vagrant  quest 
 To  lands  that  lurk'd  for  ages  in  the  West ; 
 
 *  The  base  is  estimated  by  Spallanzani  at  180  miles  in  cir- 
 cumference ;  the  coue  at  two  miles  hi  perpendicular. 
 
8  EPISTLES. 
 
 Where  Niagara  thunder-like  is  hurPd, 
 Or  aweful  Andes  looks  o'er  half  the  world.— 
 Here  pause  my  wanderings  :  under  many  a  sky 
 Homeless  I  liv'd,  but  home  return — to  die. 
 
 Methinks  I  mark  a  gay  satiric  smile 
 Gleam  on  thy  cheek,  and  thus  the'  indignant  style 
 Disclose :  "  Oh  lost  to  worth,  to  wisdom  blind, 
 Who  wastes  a  life  to  feast  his  eye,  not  mind ; 
 Paint  on  his  retina  material  grace, 
 Not  on  the  soul  her  moral  glories  trace  ! — 
 Thy  body  roves,  confin'd  thy  nobler  charge ; 
 I,  while  my  feet  are  fix'd,  my  thoughts  enlarge. 
 Or  aim  thy  fellows,  not  thyself,  to  bless  ; 
 Or  know  thy  bliss, — repose,  not  restlessness : 
 Sit  still,  revere  what  Horace  taught,  '  Who  range 
 The  deep,  their  climate,  not  their  passions  change/  " 
 
 Yet  unrequir'd  the  monitory  voice  ; 
 Fate  acts  the  friend,  nor  leaves  me  to  my  choice. 
 *Tis  not  allow'd,  where  far-off  scenes  invite, 
 My  proper  cares,  my  friend,  myself,  to  slight : 
 Curst  war,  that  desolates  a  guilty  age, 
 Bids  me  at  home  the  fearless  hour  engage. 
 And  tho'  the  wish,  the  light- wing'd  hope  will  stray; 
 Tho',  when  the  shaded  map  I  oft  survey, 
 
EPISTLES.  9 
 
 Fancy,  at  names  that  crowd  this  gadding  strain, 
 Will  whisper,   "  These  unsought,  thou  breath'st  in 
 
 vain," 
 And,  not  unenvious,  track  the  traveller's  toils; 
 Ne'er  shall  I  pass  these  lovely  sister  isles  ; 
 But  here,  while  home-born  charms  a  world  supply, 
 At  leisure  live,  at  leisure  learn  to  die, 
 And  gather  virtue  from  necessity. 
 And,   late,  when  years  these  young  desires  shall 
 
 mend, 
 I'll  seek  the  green  retirement  of  my  friend; 
 Laugh  at  the  freaks  the'  enthusiast  Muse  express'd, 
 Nor  own,  of  all  the  past,  a  scene  more  blest, 
 More  dear,  than  that  where  erst,  in  school-boy  age, 
 We  shar'd  the  walk,  or  turn'd  the  social  page. 
 
 Dec.  1811. 
 
EPISTLE  II. 
 
 TO  J.  F.  B*****    ESO. 
 
 9  «v 
 
 "  Rura  tibi  riguique  placent  in  vallibus  amnes ; 
 Fluminaamas."  Virg. 
 
 Oft  have  I  sigh'd,  dear  uncle,  in  the  hour 
 When  Fancy  with  Affection  blends  her  power, 
 a  Oh  for  a  magic  mirror !  there  to  trace 
 Each  far-oif  friend,  his  attitude,  his  face, 
 As  if  I  watch'd  him  in  the  fire-side  glass !" 
 Yet,  at  that  dreamy  hour  when  day-light  fails, 
 Fancy  herself,  with  Memory's  aid,  avails 
 To  paint  the  well-known  forms.     Before  her  eyes, 
 Each  in  his  varied  character,  they  rise  : 
 Nor  studious  she,  nor  skilPd,  alone,  to  touch 
 The*  exterior,  but  the  inward  man  as  much ; 
 And  such  the  soul  of  each,  the'  ethereal  feature 
 such. 
 
EPISTLES.  11 
 
 One,  gay  and  glittering,  as  the  butterfly 
 
 From  bloom  to  bloom,  still  flits  from  joy  to  joy; 
 
 Proud  of  his  steeds,  his  car,  his  gorgeous  dome ; 
 
 At  ball  or  banquet  frequent,  rare  at  home. — 
 
 Life  to  himself  how  blest !  how  drear  to  me ! 
 
 I  love  him  yet.     Another,  like  the  bee, 
 
 Useful  as  elegant  in  all  his  cares, 
 
 Now  guides  and  aids  his  happy  villagers ; 
 
 Now  reads  what  learning,  wit,  or  heaven  inspir'd ; 
 
 Admir'd  himself,  not  fain  to  be  admir'd. 
 
 Such  life  be  mine  to  lead,  such  cares  to  ply ; 
 
 The  bee  my  emblem,  not  the  butterfly, 
 
 Domestic  diligence,  not  gadding  vanity ! 
 
 These  pass.     A  third  succeeds  to  nicer  view ; 
 Who  but  your  own  best  intimate  ?  ev'n  you  : 
 Remembrance  in  live  portraiture  presents 
 Your  mind,  your  manners,  and  your  lineaments : 
 That  varying  eye,  which  looks  whate'er  you  speak, 
 That    fair    high    forehead,    and    that    sun-brown 
 
 cheek ; 
 That  voice,  that  soul-breath'd  accent ;  that  address 
 So  kind,  so  courteous,  in  its  carelessness  ; 
 That  mind  so  calm  to  think,  so  quick  to  feel, 
 So  cool,  so  warm,  so  grave,  so  gay,  at  will ; 
 
12  EPISTLES. 
 
 Sometimes  with  Hartley,  reasoning  slow  and  sage, 
 Flashing  anon  with  high  Homeric  rage, 
 And  lightly  sauntering,  now,  o'er  FalstafPs  game- 
 some page. 
 But,  chief,  I  see  }^ou  in  that  wonted  air, 
 Bent  on  your  favourite  sport,  the  fisher's  care ; 
 Such  as  when  erst  I  shar'd  your  pleasant  side, 
 New  to  the  art  whose  rude  essays  I  tried. 
 How  clear,  how  true,  how  full,  the  vision  opes  ! — 
 ' Tis  day-spring :  wide  o'er  Devon's  meadowy  slopes 
 The  sun,  yet  hovering  large  and  low,  distils 
 A  yellow  glitterance  ;  dewy  freshness  fills 
 The  soft,  the  speckless  azure,  and  declares 
 "  The  season  prime  for  sweetest  scents  and  airs," 
 Now  forth  we  fare  :  the  pannier'd  ass  attends 
 With  short  still  footstep  ;  each  in  turn  ascends  ; 
 Or,  like  the  morning,  lovely,  young,  and  gay, 
 Your  Emily,  (while  we  beside  her  stray,) 
 Rides,  and  with  sweet  wild  prattle  cheats  the  way. 
 Or  brisk  discussion  tracks  the  maze  of  truth, 
 Or  some    choice  volume    spares  the  search,    or 
 
 both; 
 Or  the  glanc'd  eye  with  ravishment  surveys 
 That  broader,  brighter  volume  earth  displays* 
 
EPISTLES.  13 
 
 Thus,  unperceiv'd,  the  miles  and  minutes  fly, 
 And  lo,  ere  thought,  the  river's  marge  is  nigh. 
 Otter,  belov'd  of  anglers,  thee  we  hail, 
 Thee  in  thy  Honiton's  delicious  vale, 
 Where  ruddy  Culture  rests  his  toiling  hand, 
 To  point  with  pride  the  glories  he  has  plann'd : 
 Or  Culm  beside,  or  Clist,  (ignobler  names,) 
 Or  deep-mouth'd  Ex,  we  rove,  queen  of  Devonian 
 streams ;  [brow, 
 
 Or  where,  coy  Teign,*  from  Dartmoor's  cheerless 
 Rapid  and  rough,  thy  favourite  waters  flow 
 In  wildest  solitude.     Here  heavenward  climb 
 The  wood-clad  steeps,  a  theatre  sublime ; 
 Pale,  naked  crags,  one  fam'd  for  tottering,  there 
 Front  the  dark  shades  with  stern  contrasted  stare  : 
 Here  her  light  clustering  beads  of  burnish'd  red, 
 O'er  chasm  and  cavern,  see  the  wild-ash  spread  ; 
 Fantastic,  there,  some  ivied  mass  presents 
 Semblance  of  time-worn  tower  and  cresting  battle- 
 ments : 
 Deep,  deep  below,  the  ripply  flood  you  spy, 
 Its  angriest,  hoarsest  brawl  unheard  so  high  : 
 
 •  The  Teig-n-scenery,  here  intended,  lies  between  the  vil- 
 lages of  Chajrford  and  Dunsford. 
 
14  EPISTLES. 
 
 Nor,  many  a  mile,  or  shepherd-boy,  I  ween, 
 Or  woodman,  oft,  or  mill,  or  shed,  is  seen, 
 To  mar  the  grandeur  of  that  still  ravine. 
 
 Now  ill  our  blind  and  jealous  path  we  force 
 Thro'  gulfs  of  graceful  fern  or  prickly  gorse ; 
 Where  the  retiring  rocks  have  left  a  dell, 
 How  small,  how  snug,  how  meet  for  hermit's  cell, 
 His  garden-plot,  his  evening's  vision'd  walk  ! 
 All  progress,  now,  with  bold  advance  they  balk, 
 Save  thro'  the  darkening  current,  from  whose  verge 
 Abrupt  and  sheer  their  mirror'd  mounds  emerge  : 
 Nor  we,  whose  greaves  no  moisture  fear,  delay 
 To  dash  within,  and  tramp  our  liquid  way, 
 Angling  along;  except  where  birch  or  beech, 
 Osier  or  oak,  their  arms  obtrusive  stretch, 
 And  scare  the  barbed  line  with  meddling  shade ; 
 Else  angling,  as  thro'  noontide  gloom  we  wade. 
 
 Sweetest  of  sports,  and  best !  that  lends  delight 
 Constant,  unblam'd,  calm,  healthful,  exquisite! — 
 Health  by  the  huntsman's  heartening  toil  is  bought ; 
 But  then  'tis  boisterous,  leaves  no  calm  for  thought: 
 Sedate  the  bard's  or  sage's  lonely  stroll ; 
 Yes,  but  the   limbs   they   slight,   to'  indulge  the 
 soul: 
 
EPISTLES.  15 
 
 How  many  a  pleasure  exquisite  we  find 
 
 In  its  degree,  but  guilty  in  its  kind, 
 
 Or  gross,  or  brief;  while  others,  pure  of  taste, 
 
 Satiate  not  less,  or  languish  if  they  last. — 
 
 This  best  of  sports,  and  sweetest,  lends  delight 
 
 Constant,  unblam'd,  calm,  healthful,  exquisite. 
 
 No  daily  round  so  pleasing,  but  it  palls, 
 Unless  'tis  dash'd  with  change  at  intervals : 
 Not  books,  not  mind,  can  yield  eternal  joy ; 
 For  mind,  like  body,  may  be  cramm'd  and  cloy : 
 And  mark  how  oft  who  most  the  page  explore 
 To  dullness  turn,  instead  of  wit,  their  lore  ; 
 Who  freelier  vary  their  less  studious  day, 
 Spirit  and  raciness  of  thought  display. 
 Soon  as  the  rust  of  ease  or  clouds  of  care 
 Seem  gathering,  you  to  river-banks  repair, 
 And  thus,  to  husband  life,  discreetly  waste  it  there. 
 Return'd,  with  vigour  new  and  sharpen'd  zest 
 You  ply  home-labours,  or  home-pleasures  taste. 
 
 But  eve  steals  on :  our  sports  and  spirits  flag : 
 Thrown  on  a  rustic  stool  of  moss-grown  crag, 
 With  hungry  haste  the  little  store  we  spread, 
 (Coarse,  yet  how  flavorous   now!)    our   ass   con- 
 vey'd. 
 
16  EPISTLES. 
 
 He,  since  young  day,  in  neighbouring  cotter's  barn 
 Pastures  well-pleas'd,  nor  heeds  our  dread  return, 
 Ere  harshly  taught  how  well  the  finny  prize 
 Those  wasted  viands,  late  his  load,  supplies. 
 
 Homeward  we  wend.     The   moon  rides  bright 
 and  high ; 
 How  still  the  air,  how  beauteous  is  the  sky ! 
 The  lands,  in  yellow  mist,  how  delicate  they  lie  I 
 Where  on  the  main  he  pours  his  broadening  stream, 
 We  view  far  Ex  like  molten  silver  gleam 
 'Twixt  the  dark  hedgerow  leaves  that  skirt  our  way, 
 Checquering  with  playful  shadows  the  soft  ray. 
 Each  creeps  in  musing  silence  ;  (noiseless  night 
 And  yon  sweet  moon  to  pensiveness  invite ;) 
 Not  as  at  morn,  when  sprightly  converse  flowed ; 
 Now  is  the  spirit  hush,  and  high  the  mood ; 
 And  Fancy,  now,  and  Feeling,  that  all  day 
 Slept  in  their  mystic  cells,  awake  to  play: 
 So  the  shy  fay,  whom  garish  sunlight  scares, 
 Forth  on  her  freaks  at  hour  of  moonshine  fares. 
 
 'Tis  done :  once  more  we  gain  that  welcome  door ; 
 There  meet  each  dear  familiar  face  once  more ; 
 Share  the  calm  joys  of  home,  the  chat,  the  glee, 
 The  fondness,  of  a  clustering  family. 
 
EPISTLES.  17 
 
 Share,  too,  with  keen  delight  and  honest  pride, 
 The  unbought  feast  which  our  own  toil  supplied ; 
 Then,  on  a  well-earn'd  couch,  retrace  the  way, 
 React  in  dreams  the  pastime  of  the  day. 
 
 Nor  less  to  me  my  visionary  muse 
 The  scene,  the  sport,  so  long  untried,  renews  ; 
 And,  conjured  hence  on  Fancy's  frolic  wing, 
 I  seem  to'  have  met  you  on  the  banks  of  Teign, 
 There  loitering  one  sweet  summer's  day.     But  see, 
 The  picture  fades  to  dull  reality : 
 No  summer  ! — wintry  nakedness  and  gloom  ; 
 No  banks  of  Teign  ! — my  disenchanted  room, 
 Whose  book-row  walls  the  flickering  flame  displays, 
 O'er  which  I  hang,  o'er  which,  amidst  this  maze 
 Of  twilight  musings  lost,  I  roll  the'  unconscious 
 gaze. 
 
 Feb.  1813. 
 
EPISTLE  III. 
 
 TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY. 
 
 OCCASIONED  BY  HIS  POEM  OF  MADOC. 
 
 "  Extremus  primorum."       Hor. 
 
 Lo,  bright  and  vigorous  from  her  sleep  of  years, 
 The  goddess  power  of  epic  reappears  ! 
 For  sure, — since  Milton  those  dread  scenes  design'd, 
 Out-beggaring  with  sublimities  of  mind 
 Whatever  in  starry  nature  Newton  scanned, — 
 Creative  genius  ne'er  till  now  hath  plann'd 
 A  frame  so  rich,  so  beautiful,  so  grand. 
 Oft  had  I  deem'd  her  race  of  giants  o'er, 
 Her  mightier  glories  set — to  blaze  no  more ; 
 Nor  aught  might  hope  forecast,  in  onward  time, 
 Beyond  the  fetter'd  flights  of  long-accustom'd  rhyme. 
 Well,  wondrous  master,  hast  thou  mock'd  my  fear, 
 Oh,  well  arrested  Fancy's  prone  career. 
 
EPISTLES.  19 
 
 Thy  Madoc,  nameless  erst,  thro'  every  age, 
 Thro'  every  clime,  shall  boast  his  blazoning  page, 
 And   toil  with   fame   o'erpay,   if  right   the  friend 
 
 presage. 
 High  in  the  lists  of  song  shall  Southey  stand, 
 Nam'd  with  the  goodliest  of  that  goodlier  band, 
 The  few  few  bards  whom  epic  bays  have  crown'd. 
 What  tho'  nor  gods  nor  demons  here  be  found, 
 Nor,  Milton-like,  thy  milder  muse  presume 
 Up  to  the  heaven  of  heavens,  or  down  to  Stygian 
 
 gloom  ? 
 Not  less  for  this,  I  deem,  thy  work  shall  shine, 
 Not  less  shall  warm  ;  while  nature's  self  is  thine, 
 While  nature  beams  and  burns  in  every  heartfelt  line. 
 'Tis  poesy's  prime  charm, 'twas  Shakespeare's  praise, 
 To  make  the  page  a  glass,  where  each  surveys 
 Himself,  as  him  the'  artificer  design'd, 
 Yea  caught  the  subtlest  workings  of  his  mind. 
 Weird-sisters  muttering  round  their  cauldron's  brim, 
 Consulting  fiends,  embattled  seraphim, 
 Aloud  we  vaunt ;  but  covertly  prefer 
 Touches  of  soul,  still  still  to  these  recur  : 
 Those  have  our  fits  of  wonder ;  but  we  feast 
 On  these  each  day,  and  each  with  deepening  zest. 
 
 c  2 
 
30  EPISTLES. 
 
 As  earthly  beings,  earthly  scenes  delight, 
 More  than  the  monster  births  of  lawless  wit ; 
 And  sweeter  Gwyneth,  with  her  uplands  rude, 
 Than  aught  Ladurlad  or  Lobaba  view?d. 
 
 Oh,  that  in  these  my  truant  bard  could  rest, 
 ( Forgive  the  wish  pour'd  from  a  partial  breast, ) 
 These,  which  so  well  he  knew,  so  well  express'd ! 
 But  forms,  unmirror'd  by  the'  authentic  eye, 
 Feelings,  to  which  the  soul  can  ill  reply 
 In  echoes  of  connatural  sympathy, 
 He  sought,  exulting  o'er  the'  unborrow'd  field ; 
 And  I  his  playful  mastery  have  beheld 
 With  praise,  with  admiration, — not  with  joy, 
 And  joyless  admiration  soon  must  cloy. 
 While  nature  charms  us  in  her  simplest  airs, 
 How  cold  the  flashiest  meteors  fiction  rears  ! 
 How  like  the  Zemblan  coast,   that  freezes  as  it 
 glares ! 
 
 Quit,  then,  the  song,  in  magic  marvels  rife, 
 For  daylight  truth,  for  bosom-scenes  of  life : 
 Ev'n  there,  where  nature's  self,  and  man,  appear'd 
 In  aspect  unfamiliar,  unendear'd, 
 Wander  no  more  ;  nor  headlong  disregard 
 The  beacon  blaze  of  that  coeval  bard, 
 
EPISTLES.  21 
 
 Second  to  thee,  (and  this  his  noblest  boast,) 
 Who,  patriot  still  and  wise,  from  Britain  most 
 His  life-warm  scenery  calls,  nor  at  the  cost 
 Of  our  delight  a  selfish  fame  pursues, 
 Nor  less  our  fondness  than  our  wonder  woos. 
 Brave  scorn  of  imitation,  wealth  and  love 
 And  pride  of  fancy,  these  thy  genius  move 
 To  that  wild  vagrancy  Pave  dar'd  reprove  : 
 And — tho'  in  honest  nature's  old  high-way 
 Untir'd,  the  poet  might  for  ever  play, 
 Nor  dare  where  fiction  tempts  but  to  betray; 
 Yet  sure  such  happier  fancy-freaks  as  thine, 
 Mix'd  with  great  nature's  self,  shall  ne'er  decline. 
 Much,  too,  I  joy,  I  glory  much,  to  see 
 This  long  poetic  bondage  burst  by  thee  ; 
 Ev'n  when  excess  thou  quitt'st  for  new  excess, 
 Darting  from  rigour  to  licentiousness. 
 
 Our  bards,  degenerate  from  their  sires  too  long, 
 And  smit  with  soft  monotony  of  song, 
 Fancy  forsake,  their  goddess  ;  and  descend 
 To  reason,  the  cool  creeping  prose-man's  friend. 
 Not  such  those  primal  patriarchs  of  the  line  : 
 They,  with  invention  bold  and  high  design, 
 Assert  the  poet's  name,  and  show  themselves  divine  ; 
 
22  EPISTLES, 
 
 Creators,  not  mere  mechanists  ;  whose  art 
 Being,  not  less  than  beauty,  could  impart, 
 Could  search  and  sway,  could  shape  and  shift  the 
 
 heart. 
 To  those  imperial  minds  all  nature  paid 
 Her  tribute,  as  to  whom  herself  obey'd. 
 Such  have  been  :  narrative  old  Chaucer  such  ; 
 And  Spenser,  with  his  rich  romantic  touch  ; 
 And  Milton,  moulded  in  sublimity : 
 Nor  less  the  groupe  dramatic,  circling  thee, 
 (As  thou  their  sun,  thy  planets  they,  were  styi'd,) 
 Oh  Shakespeare,  nature's  nurseling,  fancy's  child. 
 Where  are  they  now  ?   How  chang'd,  how  fall'n  the 
 
 scene ! 
 Not  earth  from  Eden  more  deform'd,  I  ween. 
 Dryden  arriv'd  ;  then  Pope  of  Dryden  learn'd  ; 
 And  each  to  reasoning  more  than  fable  turn'd, 
 With  wit  still  blaz'd,  with  passion  seldom  burn'd. 
 Whatever  his  vigor,  grace,  or  store,  of  thought, 
 No  long-drawn  train  of  actions  either  wrought, 
 From  life  and  landscape  fresh,  with  fervid  interest 
 
 fraught. 
 To  these,  as  chiefs,  succeed,  in  thickening  clans, 
 Bards  like  myself,  well-vowelFd  artisans. 
 
EPISTLES.  23 
 
 Ev'n    so,   the  while,    in   picture's    neighboring 
 sphere 
 First  did  the  masters  of  design  appear  : 
 Then  Buonarroti,  with  Homeric  hand, 
 The'  august,  impassion'd  throng  divinely  plann'd, 
 Urbino,  then,  with  all  the  Mantuan's  grace, 
 Flung  from  his  teeming  breast  those  forms  of  hea- 
 venly race. 
 Conceivers  shrunk  to  colourists  at  length, 
 "And  what  was  gain'd  of  skill  was  lost  of  strength:'' 
 Raphael  *  in  Titian  dull-eyed  wits  forget, 
 And  godlike  Michael  sinks  in  Tintoret : 
 High  acts,  high  passions,  own  the  nobler  care 
 Of  flowers  and  drapery,  prettiness  and  glare. 
 Turning  impatient  from  the'  ignobler  crew, 
 Thee,  with  what  glad  surprise,  once  more  I  view ! 
 Who,  born  amidst  these  dwindling  sons  of  rhyme, 
 Hast  burst  o'er  all  in  epic  soar  sublime. 
 For,  not  to  touch  thy  various  works,  (tho'  each 
 Impregn'd  with  feeling  strong  and  fancy  rich,) 
 
 *  "  Raphael's,  like  Homer's,  was  the  nobler  part; 
 But  Titian's  painting  look'd  like  Virgil's  art.'' 
 
 Dry  den,  Epist.  to  Kneller. 
 
24*  EPISTLES* 
 
 How,  in  thy  Madoc,  all  concenter'd,  blaze 
 The  charms,  the  glories,  poesy  displays  ! 
 There,  plain  in  affluence,  (unlike  most  we  see, 
 Who  mock  with  glare,  not  hide,  their  poverty, ) 
 Thy  muse  nor  wit  nor  gorgeous  diction  tries, 
 Nor  spirits  languor  with  some  sly  surprise ; 
 Poor  arts !  but  hers  the  eye  that  nature  views, 
 The  heart  that  feels,  the  courage  that  pursues : 
 Heavenward  she  trusts, and  heavenher  might  affords: 
 Hence,   all  the    sweetness,    all   the   strength,    of 
 
 words, 
 Whate'er  in  imagery  glows,  whate'er 
 In  form,  in  manners,  or  in  character, 
 Whate'er  with  terror  thrills,  or  tenderness,  is  there; 
 And,  chief,  the  soul  on  each  fair  action  bent, 
 Or  uttering  high  and  holy  sentiment. 
 Not  that  she  slights  the'  auxiliar  wealth  of  lore ; 
 Save  Milton,  who  hath  sought  or  us'd  it  more  ? 
 Nor,  (as  with  most,)  that  all  is  vast  and  strange ; 
 No,  o'er  her  canvass,  men,  not  heroes,  range, 
 Or  heroes,  godlike  erst,  to  human  change  ; 
 She  loves  each  home-felt,  each  diurnal  care, 
 Such  as  our  Shakespeare  paints,  and  all  can  share. 
 
EPISTLES.  25 
 
 And,  sure, — while  he  and  nature  down  the  tide 
 Of  ages,  gathering  still  new  honors,  glide, 
 That  genius,  coeternal,  ne'er  may  fade, 
 Whom  these  faint  lines,  by  artless  wonder  paid, 
 Greet,  as  he  musing  lurks  in  garden  shade, 
 Where,  Derwent,  mirror'd  on  thy  mimic  sky, 
 Keswick's  white  cots,  and  mighty  Skiddaw  lie. 
 
 Feb.  1313. 
 
EPISTLE  IV. 
 
 TO  WALTER  SCOTT,  ESQ. 
 
 ON  HIS  POEMS. 
 
 lC  Libera  per  vacuum  posuit  vestigia  princeps, 
 Non  aliena  suo  pressit  pede."  Hon. 
 
 Enchanting  bard !  tho'  all  to  thee  unknown 
 
 By  outward  circumstance  of  eye  or  tone, 
 
 Long  have  I  known  thyself,  thy  soul,  that  finds 
 
 Communion  with  ten  thousand  kindred  minds, 
 
 A  spirit  omnipresent ;  since  we  call 
 
 Thee,  Scott,  the  nation's  man,  the  public  friend 
 
 of  all. 
 Then  scorn  not  that,  for  bosom-felt  delight 
 Of  many  an  hour,  I  cast  my  grateful  mite 
 Into  that  rich  and  well-earn'd  treasury 
 Of  love  and  wonder,  which  ennobles  thee. 
 
 And  who,  of  judging  head  or  generous  heart, 
 But  to  the  chorus  of  thy  loud  desert 
 
EPISTLES.  lZt 
 
 Would  add  his  echo  ?  of  her  poet  sons 
 
 Which,  like  her  Scott,  our  mother  isle  renowns  ? 
 
 Others  with  haughtier  praise  may  crown  their  toil ; 
 
 Thou  givest  a  dearer  glory  to  our  soil ; 
 
 Thy  Genius,  wizard-like,  with  potent  wand 
 
 Hath  call'd  up  phantoms  over  half  the  land ; 
 
 And,  wheresoe'er  thy  fairy  scenes  were  plann'd, 
 
 We  seem  to  tread  within  a  magic  round, 
 
 The  Spirit  has  been  there, — 'tis  haunted,  hallow'd 
 
 ground ; 
 Thick  o'er  the  place  thy  brain-born  beings  walk, 
 And  from  each  cliff,  each  copse,  each  fountain,  talk. 
 
 Why  with  such  thrilling  interest  did  I  hail 
 Sweet  Teviot  winding  down  his  Branksome's  dale, 
 And  Melrose,  oh  how  fair  in  moonshine  pale  ? 
 'Twas  there  his  headlong  way  thy  Deloraine  took, 
 ?Twas  here  untreasur'd  of  its  mighty  book, 
 Thy  Sorcerer's  tomb.     Why  onward  must  I  keep 
 Tweed's  boundary  course  to  "  Norham's  castled 
 
 steep?" 
 There  feasted  in  such  high  baronial  state 
 Marmion,  with  all  his  warrior  train,  and  met 
 That  grim  mysterious  palmer.     But  thy  North 
 Beckons  my  haste  across  her  Clyde  and  Forth, 
 
28 
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 To  where,  with  shaggy  banks  and  mirror  blue, 
 Lurks,  behind  huge  overshadowing  Ben  venue, 
 Loch  Katrine.     Yet  the  rock,  the  lake,  the  wood, 
 Fade  in  thine  Ellen,  fancied  as  she  stood, 
 In  listening  loveliness,  on  shallop  light, 
 Near  yon  far-blazon'd  islet's  tufted  height. 
 I  climb  Benledi's  ridge  abrupt  and  rude ; 
 All  round  'tis  hush  unbreathing  solitude  ; — 
 No,  peopled  'tis,  'tis  spirited  by  thee ; 
 And,  scar'd  like  James,  I  half  expect  to  see 
 From  copse  and  fern,  at  Roderick's  whistle  shrill, 
 A  couchant  host  start  up  o'er  all  the  hill. 
 Southward  once  more,  I  seek  the  scene  so  sweet 
 Where  Rokeby  rises,  Tees  and  Greta  meet : 
 Whoe'er  that  wild-wood  glen  had  erst  survey'd, 
 Had  joy'd  and  wonder'd  o'er  the  charms  display'd ; 
 But  oh !  how  much  those  charms  to  us  improve, 
 Who,  in  thy  guidance,  now  the  glen  shall  rove. 
 Yon  pale  grey  cliff,  yon  dark  deep  cavern  view: 
 There  Bertram,  Denzil,  and  their  desperate  crew 
 Kept  spoil  and  revel ;  Edmund  there  would  force 
 Laughter  and  song,  tho'  rack'd  with  keen  remorse : 
 Still  on  the  vision'd  wanderer's  ears  and  eyes 
 The  ruffian  forms,  the  ruffian  voices,  rise, 
 
EPISTLES.  29 
 
 And  these  the  shades  where,  Love's  and  Fancy's 
 
 prey, 
 Thy  gentle  Wilfrid  dream'd  his  life  away ; 
 And  Redmond  here  his  manlier  sports  pursued, 
 Dear  to  the  dark-eyed  maid  by  Wilfrid  vainly  woo'd. 
 
 Thus,  by  a  wise  and  noble  choice  of  place, 
 Thou  giv'st  and  borrow'st  adventitious  grace, 
 Immortal  Nature  blend'st  with  human  art, 
 And  sharest,  (tho'  guiltless,)  thine  with  Heaven's 
 
 own  part. 
 True,  the  cull'd  scenes  are  fair,  divinely  fair, 
 Yet  seems  the  man  to'  intrude  on  Godhead  there ; 
 Pleas'd  o'er  the  landscape  the  mere  eye  may  roll, 
 But  'tis  the  bard  sits  smiling  at  the  soul. 
 True,  Nature  nurs'd  thee ;  we  to  Nature  owe 
 Those  inspirations  that  around  thee  glow ; 
 She  meant  thee  an  illustrious  proof  that  ne'er 
 Her  form  was  studied  with  too  fond  a  care ; 
 For  oh,  of  all  her  myriad  painters,  who 
 Hath  caught  that  form  so  full,  and  bright,  and  true  ? 
 Yet  to  the  bard  she  owns  a  debt,  whose  lay 
 Her  coy  inglorious  wonders  gave  to  day, 
 Guided  and  cheer'd  the  pilgrimage  of  Taste, 
 And  pointed  homeward  ere  from  home  we  haste. 
 
30  EPISTLES. 
 
 Nor  only  now,  while  round  the  blooming  tree 
 Sings  the  fresh  gale  of  Popularity ; 
 Age  after  age,  and  when  that  laurel's  low, 
 The  gale,  undying,  o'er  its  place  shall  blow. 
 Pilgrims  unborn,  with  speaking  eye,  shall  throng 
 Each  haunt  endear'd  and  sanctified  by  song ; 
 Then,  home  returning,  with  enthusiast  thrill 
 Boast  as  of  Dunsinane  or  Birnam-hill. 
 Chief,  where  thy  own  inspiring  cottage  stood, 
 Some  youth,  perchance,  of  rarer,  loftier  mood, 
 (Deeming,  to  thee  since  vocal,  Yarrow's  glen 
 A  second  and  more  sacred  Hawthornden*,) 
 On  summer-eve  his  lonely  way  shall  take ; 
 Or,  musing  by  thy  lov'd  St.  Mary's  lake, 
 Shall  meet  thy  spirit  there,  and  bid  the  slumberer 
 
 wake; 
 Nor  bid  in  vain,  but,  caught  with  kindred  fire, 
 Summon  the  realm  a  new-born  Scott  to'  admire. 
 
 Some,  that  with  living  figures  grace  a  tale, 
 (Yet  whose  like  thine  ?)  in  still  description  fail ; 
 Some  in  their  lifeless  portraitures  excel, 
 (Yet  whose  may  match  thy  own?)  that  paint  not 
 persons  well : 
 
 *  The  well-known  retirement  of  the  poet  Drummond. 
 
EPISTLES.  31 
 
 There  are,  for  either  task  empower'd,  who  range 
 In  far-off  climes,  or  fancy  freaks  too  strange  : 
 Bright  scenery  with  brisk  actors  to  combine, 
 Heighten'd  with  home-born  sweetness  all, — is  thine. 
 
 Nor,  Learning,  less  thy  native  strength  attends 
 With  added  arms ;  and,  while  Observance  lends 
 His  quick  uncheated  eyesight,  History  pours 
 On  thy  free  spoil  her  vast  and  varied  stores. 
 Thou  speak'st,  and  lo,  at  thy  creative  word, 
 Rises  that  old  romantic  world  restor'd : 
 I  seem  to'  have  mingled  with  its  vanish'd  age, 
 And  think  of  those  that  animate  thy  stage 
 As  whom  erewhile  I  held  familiar ;  then 
 Turn,  startled  from  the  dream,  to  real  forms  again. 
 
 Rich  as  thou  art  of  light  or  serious  lore, 
 Who  less  hath  copied,  who  imagin'd  more  ? 
 How  can'st  thou  nurse  that  bardlike  mood  so  long  ? 
 How  find  such  fire  and  fuel  for  the  song, 
 Ne'er  dead,  ne'er  dull,  impetuous  all  and  strong  ? 
 While,  kindling  with  thy  own  contagious  rage, 
 We  live  and  feel  and  glow  along  thy  page ; 
 Thy  page,  the  stream  adown  whose  tuneful  tide 
 Our  souls  to  all  their  depths  of  thought  and  passion 
 glide. 
 
32  EPISTLES. 
 
 Yet  some, — or  too  dim-sighted  to  descry 
 The  master-mind  that  breath'd  such  poesy, 
 Or  starv'd  and  beggar'd  in  those  pedant  schools 
 That  still  preach  antient  models,  antient  rules, 
 And  damn  all  mere  originals  for  fools, — 
 Or  proud  to  mar  the  many-voic'd  acclaim 
 That  links  with  rapture  and  amaze  thy  name, 
 Cant  of  thy  barbarous,  thy  unclassic  st}^le, 
 (Whose  awful  precedent  must  sure  defile 
 With  Gothic  jargon  our  once  nobler  taste, 
 Pure  phrase  and  sage  authority  displac'd;) 
 Nor  mark  how  bold,  rich,  picturesque  the  stream 
 Of  language,  that  bears  on  thy  answering  theme; 
 No  lowland  brook,  still  even  and  serene ; 
 But,  wildly  wandering  o'er  the  wilder  scene, 
 A  mountain-torrent ;  now,  with  furious  force, 
 All  foam  and  thunder,  down  its  rocky  course 
 Crashing  precipitant ;  now,  smooth  and  still, 
 Loitering  by  meadowy  vale  and  copse-clad  hill, 
 Each  bordering  image  on  its  mimic  sky 
 Fresh-featured,  as  the  live  reality. 
 
 Oh,  broadening,  deepening,  flow  that  stream  of 
 song, 
 And  long  the  land  enrich,  emblazon  long ! 
 
EPISTLES.  33 
 
 Secret,  awhile,  and  underground  it  stole ; 
 Then  leapt  to  light,  and  warbling  first  'gan  roll 
 Where  Teviot  and  where  Yarrow,  nameless  erst, 
 Its  parent  genius  in  his  youth  had  nurs'd : 
 Long  time  amidst  that  favorite  neighborhood 
 Lingering,  it  stray'd  by  Tweed's  and  Twisel's  flood  ; 
 Whence,  (proud  Dunedin,  and  the  towery  steep 
 Of  Stirling,  past,)  it  pierc'd  the  Trosach's  deep, 
 And  wild  Glenfinlas ;  then,  with  southward  sweep, 
 Fair  England  sought,  and  Tees'  delicious  dale. 
 Where  shall  I  next  its  hallowing  waters  hail  ? 
 Heaven  give  them  large  to  flow,  and  late  to  fail ! 
 Roll  on,  immortal  stream !  Let  England  fair. 
 Still  with  rude  Caledon  thy  blessing  share, 
 Nor  ev'n  Iernian  vales,  nor  Cambrian  cliffs,  despair  : 
 Roll  on ;  till,  swelling,  spreading,  thou,  like  Nile, 
 Fling  beauty,  joy,  and  fame,  o'er  all  the  song-blest 
 isle! 
 
EPISTLE  V. 
 TO   MISS  P  ******. 
 
 u  I^all  the  converse  that  we  two  hate  shar'd, 
 When  we  have  chid  the  hasty-footed  Time 
 For  parting  us,— Oh,  and  is  all'  forgot  r*    ff'vtkkisP: 
 
 Oh,  canst  thou,  lively  friend>  fbrgeH 
 Those  days  of  bliss^  when  first  we  met ? 
 When,  rnix'd  wifh  frolic  girls,  we  strayed 
 Where  Seadbwy  casts- her  solemn  shade, 
 And  shared  sweet  converse  sid'e  by  side, 
 At  bahfty  h$ur  of  eventide  ? 
 Canst  thou  forget  ?  and  how  we  sought 
 That  wild  and  wood-embosom'd  grot, 
 And  how  our  names  we  sculptur'd  there, 
 Or  join'd  to  sing  some  choral  air, 
 Or  talk'd  of  friends,  or  told  a  tale, 
 Or  listen'd  to  the  nightingale  I 
 
EPISTLES.  65 
 
 — The  ramble  finish'd,  we  retrace 
 Our  footsteps  to  the  well-known  place, 
 To  where  the  garden's  fragrant  bound 
 Curtains  the  pastoral  house  around, 
 Oft  lingering  in  those  alleys  green 
 Till  stealthy  twilight  veil  the  scene. 
 Canst  thou  those  sacred  hours  forget, 
 Or  cease,  remembering,  to  regret  ? 
 
 Oh  days,  the  happiest,  much  I  fear, 
 That  I  must  ever  witness  here ! 
 Frequent  o'er  ye  will  memory  brood, 
 And  still,  (tho'  many  a  year  intii'ude, 
 The'  many  an  object  intervene,) 
 Turn  fondly  to  the  backward  scene. 
 
 Since  then,  to  distance  have  I  stray'd, 
 And  Nature's  various  form  survey'd ; 
 Where  Devon's  cultur'd  vales  extend, 
 Where  Cambria's  dark-brow'd  steeps  ascend  : 
 And  Erin  to  my  wondering  gaze 
 Ev'n  now  her  tufted  glens  displays ;  * 
 Where,  as  I  pause  in  wild  delight, 
 Lo,  tumbled  from  yon  giddy  height, 
 
 •  These  glens  are   frequent   in  the  romantic   county  of 
 "SVicklow. 
 
 D  2 
 
36  EPISTLES. 
 
 O'er  fractured  crags,  with  foamy  gleam 
 Thunders  along  the  lowland  stream. 
 
 Enchanting  haunts  ! — and  yet  nor  these, 
 So  form'd  to  astonish  and  to  please ; 
 Nor  lakes  that  near  Killarney  smile, 
 Inlaid  with  many  an  emerald  isle ; 
 Nor  landscape,  of  unnumber'd  hues 
 That  mock  the  colouring  of  the  muse, 
 Seen  from  the  lordly  Wrekin's  brow 
 Stretch'd  in  long  perspective  below ; 
 Nor  aught  beside  of  prospect  fair, 
 May  with  that  simple  scene  compare, 
 Where,  midst  his  margent  osiers  gray, 
 Scarce  murmuring  steals  the  rural  Cray. 
 Sweet  unambitious  stream  !  thy  name, 
 Ne'er  blazon'd  by  obstreperous  Fame, 
 Yet  hath  not  wanted  honor  due 
 From  stripling  bards  that  near  thee  grew : 
 And,  if  inglorious  passed  our  age, 
 Not  less  we  turn'd  the  classic  page, 
 Not  less  the  willing  muse  we  woo'd 
 In  still  and  shady  solitude. 
 
 I  say  not,  now,  that  favorite  spot, 
 The  fir-topt  hill,  the  stream,  the  grot, 
 
EPISTLES. 
 
 I  say  not  Scadbury's  solemn  shade, 
 Would  strike  the  stranger  as  he  stray'd ; 
 I  say  but  this ;  to  me  they  wear 
 An  aspect,  more  than  others,  fair  : 
 O'er  others  the  pleas'd  eye  may  roll ; 
 These  shoot  their  influence  to  the  soul, 
 Endear'd,  congenial ;  win  my  heart, 
 And  boast  a  nameless  charm  nor  Art 
 Nor  mightier  Nature  knows  to'  impart : 
 'Tis  Habit  consecrates  the  place, 
 And  gives  it  adscititious  grace, 
 Clothes  it  in  beauties  not  its  own, 
 To  casual  wanderers  all  unknown. 
 
 And  say,  hath  ne'er  thy  gentle  breast 
 A  kindred  sentiment  confess'd  ? 
 Thou,  like  thy  friend,  hast  wander'd  wide, 
 And  Nature  view'd  in  all  her  pride, 
 And  mix'd  with  groups  of  social  mirth  : 
 Yet  say, — that  loveliest  nook  of  earth, 
 Its  garden-walks,  its  neighboring  wood, 
 Its  blithe  and  artless  sisterhood, 
 Ne'er  do  they  rise  on  memory's  eye  ? 
 Ne'er  do  they  steal  a  wistful  sigh  ? 
 
 37 
 
38  EPISTLES. 
 
 Thee,  too,  sweet  maid,  I  have  not  yet, 
 (Tho*  many  a  fair  one  since  I'ave  met, 
 That  lightly  touch'd  the  vacant  mind, 
 But  scarce  her  semblance  left  behind,) 
 Thee,  tqo,  I  have  not  yet  forgot ; 
 Oft  strays  to  thee  the  silent  thought ; 
 Thine  image  intertwines,  in  sooth, 
 With  the  dear  scene  that  nurs'd  my  youth. 
 How  faithful  does  remembrance  trace 
 Each  little  feature  of  that  face  ! 
 If  quaint  remark  or  story  droll 
 Season  our  converse  as  we  stroll, 
 How  well  I  mind  the  sprightly  smile 
 That  sparkled  in  those  eyes  the  while ! 
 And  yet  at  times  their  alter'd  look 
 A  sadly-sweet  expression  took, 
 Such  as  I  ween  they  now  betray, 
 While,  bending  o'er  this  heart-wove  lay, 
 Thou  think'st  of  scenes  "  belov'd  in  vain," 
 Perchance  of  him — who  pours  the  strain. 
 
 July,  1809. 
 
EPISTLE  VI. 
 
 TO   C.  N****,    ESQ. 
 
 FELLOW  OF  ST.  JOHN'S  COLLEGE..    CAMBRIDGE 
 
 *  Vita?  jura  novanda  mea?.''    Ovid. 
 
 Once  more,  dear  schoolboy  friend,  the  lyre  I  take, 
 For  thee  once  more  its  slumbering  silence  break. 
 — Ah  me  !  as  time,  still  press'd  by  sobering  cares, 
 Creeps  chilling  on,  nor  youth's  sweet  ardor  spares  ; 
 That  lyre  in  some  dark  nook  I  seem  to' have  hung, 
 The  spoil  of  dust  and  cobwebs,  all  unstrung, 
 All  unremember'd :  not  as  when,  each  day, 
 We  loiterers  in  those  quiet  fields  of  Cray 
 Fram'd  with  light  hand  and  heart  some  transitory 
 
 lay. 
 — Yet  once  more,  now,  for  thee  my  lyre  I  take, 
 For  thee,  dear  schoolboy  friend,  the  slumbered  once 
 
 more  wake. 
 
40  EPISTLES. 
 
 Since  last  I  hail'd  thee,  (laurel'd,  then,  thy  brow, 
 Fresh  from  collegiate  toils  and  triumphs  thou,) 
 Ere  well  yon  sun  his  yearly  round  hath  ranged, 
 How  is  my  life,  as  'twere  by  magic,  changed ! 
 — The*  enthusiast  muse  then  all  with  Travel  teem'd ; 
 Of  half  the  globe  then  freakish  Fancy  dream'd ; 
 Rome,  Etna,  Salem,  Nile,  thro'  hope's  perspective 
 
 gleam'd. 
 And  soon  as  May  came  gladding  heaven  and  earth, 
 I  from  my  book-wall  covert  issued  forth 
 To'  explore  new  wilds  and  wonders  of  our  North. 
 'Twas  Caledonia  now  her  pilgrim  caught, 
 With  eyes,  with  feet,  that  rest  nor  took  nor  sought ; 
 Nature  adoring  still,  as  there  her  throne, 
 As  there  a  mighty  temple  all  her  own. 
 — Oh,  could  I  fling  Loch  Katrine  on  thy  view, 
 "  Blue,  darkly,  deeply,  beautifully  blue," 
 Where  at  the  foot  she  lurks  of  towering  Benvenue  ! 
 Towering  in  all  his  wealth  and  pomp  of  wood, 
 Feather'd  with  twice  ten  thousand  birches,  strew'd 
 With  cliffs,  and  crags,  and  knolls,  close-clustering 
 
 round : 
 But  hush !  a  master  bard  hath  trod  that  ground. 
 ■ — Oh,  could  I  point  where,  (eye,  ear,  soul  astound,) 
 
EPISTLES.  41 
 
 Thy  cataract,  Fyres,  'twixt  envious  jaws  of  rock, 
 Down  to  his  gulph  of  undistinguished  smoke 
 Boils,  wheels,  foams,  tumbles,  thunders ! — or  could 
 
 lead 
 My  Neale,  entranc'd,  to  Nevis'  huge  hoar  head ; 
 Where  what  a  scene,  how  ample,  how  august, 
 Of  mountains,  thick,  dark,  rough,  confusedly  tost, 
 As  billows,  warr'd  on  by  the  winds  of  night ! 
 In  vain :  we  walk  not  there  by  faith  but  sight. 
 Tho'  Wilson  with  such  landscapes  hung  thy  wall, 
 Not  Wilson's  self  such  landscapes  might  recal, 
 And  life-drawn  memory  far  outpictures  all ; 
 Yet  how  to  thee  doth  life- drawn  memory  yield, 
 Divinest  Nature,  livingly  beheld ! 
 
 Oh,  when  o'er  Katrine's  dark-blue  depth  I  sail'd, 
 Or,  Fyres,  thy  clouds  and  tempest,  thrilling  hail'd, 
 Or,  thron'd  on  Nevis,  glanc'd  the'  o'ercrowded  eye 
 From  far  Benlomond  up  to  vapory  Skye ; 
 How  little  did  I  then,  the'  approaching  page, 
 Writ  for  myself  in  Fate's  high  book,  presage! 
 How  little  deem'd,  another  changeful  year 
 Would  fix  my  heart,  would  shape  my  life's  career  ! 
 Would  see  me  consecrate  to  Heaven  by  hand 
 Of  mitred  father  ;  see  me  trembling  stand 
 
42  EPISTLES. 
 
 In  aweful  joy  at  Hymen's  mystic  shrine ; 
 Messiah's  minister,  and  Cara  mine, 
 
 Messiah's  minister  :  Oh  matchless  name, 
 Matchless  with  aught,   on  earth,  of  wealth,  joy, 
 
 fame ! 
 How  Jar  unworthy  we  such  angel  style  to  claim  I 
 We,— while  our  fellows,  each,  some  business  ply, 
 Earth-born,  and  centering  all  below  the  sky ; 
 Needful  perchance  amidst  a  sin-worn  state, 
 But  ill  with  heavenward  hopes  commensurate  ; 
 And  this  absorbs  them ;  starv'd  Religion  shares 
 Poor  piecemeal  remnants  of  their  hours  and  cares:— 
 We  give  the  flower  and  vigor  of  the  soul 
 To  themes  that,  while  Heaven's  unsumrn'd  ages  roll, 
 Shall  fill  her  field  of  vision  :  we,  if  wise, 
 Sit  spher'd  in  high  invisibilities, 
 Where  mystery  all,  and  miracle,  obscure 
 As  night-clouds,  yet  as  forms  of  noontide  sure ; 
 The'  ineffable  Triunity,  the  race 
 Of  angels  and  elect,  death,  judgment,  endlessness 
 Whate'er  hath  terror  or  delight,  whate'er 
 Curious  or  useful,  tender,  grand,  or  fair: 
 Him,  chief,  his  system's  sun,  his  body's  breath, 
 4t  Author  and  finisher  of  all  our  faith ;" 
 
EriSTLES.  43 
 
 Whose  love,  so  brightly  character'd  in  blood, 
 Lifts  us  from  death  to  life,  from  foes  to  sons  of 
 
 God; 
 Emmanuel.     Here  the  nook  of  holy  ground, 
 Mark'd  from  the  realm  of  change  and  death  around, 
 For  all  beside  is  fated  theirs :  but  this, 
 This  hath  the  food  of  soul,  the  fount  of  bliss ; 
 In  every  chance  of  time,  in  every  mode 
 Of  being,  this  the'  all-comprehending  good : 
 Life,  without  this,  a  tale  that  nothing  means ; 
 Man  a  mere  walking  shadow ;  yea,  the  scenes, 
 That  round  us  on  our  gazing  wonder  burst, 
 Such  a  blind  idiot  rhapsody  as  erst 
 Those  leaves  which  Sibyl  on  the  gale  dispers'd.> — 
 Thus,  for  the  works  of  Heaven,  its  word  I  range, 
 From  nature  rise  to  spirit ;  blest  exchange  ! 
 Nor,  now,  with  insect  eye  and  creeping  toil, 
 Travel  this  unit  orb,  this  atom  isle  ; 
 For  lo,  the  temple's  veil  is  rent ;  I  pierce 
 The'  immortal,  immaterial  universe. 
 
 But  human  minds,  (the  theme  however  high,) 
 Still  seek  refreshment  in  variety ; 
 
 •  The  sentiments  of  this  paragraph  are  in  part  borrowed 
 from  tlio  ju^iy  celebrttcd  Hebfit  ! 
 
44?  EPISTLES. 
 
 And  still  from  pastoral  functions  I  repair, 
 
 (You  with  like  zest,  ev'n  here,  the  tim'd  transition 
 
 share, ) 
 To  "  Cara  mine,"  and  conjugal  delight : 
 For,  more  than  all  that  charm'd  my  pilgrim  sight 
 In  landscape,  love  allures  me  ;  love,  that  stole 
 With  such  a  cunning  'witchery  o'er  my  soul, 
 What   time  he    caught  me   first,   and  mind  with 
 
 mind 
 In  that  mysterious  sympathy  entwin'd, 
 Pleasant  in  life,  nor  ev'n  by  death  disjoin' d. 
 Not  that,  (and  feelingly,  kind  Heaven,  I  speak,) 
 Those  upstart  thrillings  match  the  joys  they  seek 
 Of  well-tried  love  ;  not  that  such  buds,  tho'  fair, 
 May  with  the  bright  consummate  flower  compare. 
 Life's  Eden  !  where  the  cherish'd  heart  puts  forth 
 Its  happiest  blooms  of  beauty,  sweetness,  worth, 
 Luxuriant,  purg'd  of  each  excrescence  vile  ; 
 Not,  as  on  singleness'  ungarden'd  soil, 
 Stinted  and  nipt,  or  spent  in  worse  excess. 
 No  academic  fellowship  like  this, 
 That  poor  unnatural  bribe  for  love's  domestic  bliss 
 To  heartless  herding,  vicious  oft :  but  thou, 
 (Tho'  by  transcendent  merit  fellow'd  now,) 
 
EPISTLES.  45 
 
 Thefir  dull  cold  prison  hatest,  and  wilt  resign 
 Their  fellowship  for  sweeter,  such  as  mine, 
 Mine  with  the  fair  soft  friend,  within  whose  mind 
 An  echo  all  my  thoughts  and  feelings  find, 
 Within  whose  eyes  a  mirror.     Still  to  her, 
 Escap'd  sublime  abstractions,  I  recur, 
 With  such  a  joy  as  when  from  Nevis'  brow 
 I  sought  the  vale  and  village  snug  below ; 
 Prattle  and  laugh  the  light-wing'd  hour  away, 
 Follow  her  well-touch'd  keys  with  warbled  lay, 
 Or  share  the  sunshine  walk,  the  fire-side  book, 
 Mingling,  with  all,  endearing  word  and  look, 
 And  smile  and  soul-breath'd  kiss  ;  nor,  oft,  exclude 
 Sweet  poesy,  so  long,  so  fondly  woo'd. 
 
 Thus,    then,  with    "  wars  and  rumoured   wars" 
 abroad, 
 We,  in  life's  quietest  and  steadiest  road. 
 Live  to  ourselves,  our  friends,  our  fellows, — God. 
 Such  life  to  thee,  friend  !  better  canst  thou  prove 
 Than  such,  the  love  of  Heaven,  the  heaven  of  love? 
 But  where  thy  sacerdotal  stole  ?  but  where 
 Is  she,  "  the  young,  the  innocent,  the  fair," 
 Cull?d  from  her  kind,  thy  heart  and  home  to  share  ? 
 
46  EPISTLES. 
 
 Up  ;  seek  her  !  lose  thy  precious  prime  no  more, 
 
 Cheated  of  bliss  within  thy  right  and  power, 
 
 A  crowded  world's  lone  traveller,  thy  side 
 
 With  ministering  angel  misapplied! 
 
 Choose  one  lov'd  nook,   where  the  full  centered 
 
 soul 
 May  rest,  and  reign,  and  revel  at  her  goal ; 
 Else  undefined,  afloat,  vague,  spiritless, 
 '*  With   none    to    bless    thee,    none    for  thee   t6 
 
 bless." 
 And  seize  thy  stole  !  the'  immense,  immortal  mind 
 How  canst  thou  spend  on  cares  for  earth  and  time 
 
 designed, 
 By  death  snapt  short?     But  antedate  the  sky, 
 Make  life  thy  schoolman  for  eternity, 
 Train  thee  in  angel  exercises  here  ; 
 So  thou  mayst  enter  that  bright  theatre^ 
 N6t  uninitiate,  not  unskilPd^  in  all 
 Whose  limitless  progression  heaven  we  calk' 
 And  since,—"  whatever  the  sons  of  science  boast, 
 So  little  khOWs  the  man  who  knows  the  most," 
 Thou  for  a  high  degree,  high  honor,  aim, 
 {AsferewMe  ih  the  field  of  learned  fame,) 
 
EPISTLES.  47 
 
 There,    in    that    ravishing    world,     where   all    we 
 
 sought 
 Seems  infant  folly,  "  all  thy  Newton  taught 
 Lies  bare  and  obvious  to  the  heedless  thought." 
 
 Jan. 1814. 
 
EPISTLE  VIL 
 
 TO  T.  F.  B  *  *  *  *  *,   ESQ. 
 
 OF   QUEEN'S    COLLEGE,    CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 "  Jam  mens  praetrepidans  avet  vagari." 
 
 Catullus. 
 
 Once  more,  dear  Barham,  winter's  come, 
 With  all  his  rain  and  cold  and  gloom ; 
 Once  more  in  cloister'd  cell  you  'are  pent, 
 On  doubts  and  diagrams  intent. 
 For  me,  instead  of  life  and  ease 
 Lost  upon  such  pursuits  as  these, 
 O'er  history's  magic  page  I  bend, 
 And,  now,  with  eager  thought  attend, 
 In  that  magnificent  emprize, 
 Colon,  the  dauntless,  good,  and  wise  ; 
 Now  Darien's  craggy  summit  climb, 
 And  share  the*  astonishment  sublime 
 
EPISTLES.  49 
 
 Balboa  felt,  discovering  thence 
 The  new  Pacific  spread  immense  ; 
 Then  southward,  with  Magellan  brave, 
 Search  where  it  meets  the'  Atlantic  wave : 
 Anon,  with  treacherous  Cortes,  fly- 
 Where  his  glad  ruffians  first  espy, 
 Lake-circled,  and  in  sunny  glow, 
 The  domes  and  spires  of  Mexico  : 
 With  fell  Pizarro,  last,  pursue 
 The  mine-born  splendors  of  Peru ; 
 Or  rush,  with  Orellana,  down 
 The  river-sea  of  Maranon.* 
 Thus  while  I  watch  the  curtain  furl'd 
 That  hid  from  ages  half  a  world  ; 
 So  thick,  so  strange  the'  events,  they  seem 
 Some  wild  romance,  or  wilder  dream. 
 Thrice-glorious  tale,  in  my  regard ! 
 As  hence  to  Madoc's  mighty  bard 
 Those  bright  imaginations  sprung, 
 Bright  above  all  by  Briton  sung, 
 Since  Milton's  harp  in  Eden  rung. 
 
 •  Robertson's  America. 
 E 
 
50  EPISTLES. 
 
 Oft,  too,  the  fireside  book  thrown  by, 
 And,  fastening  an  abstracted  eye 
 Full  on  the  ceiling's  blank  expanse, 
 With  memory's  quick  and  curious  glance 
 My  summer  wanderings  I  retrace, 
 Where  aught  of  grandeur  falls,  or  grace, 
 From  Plymouth  up  to  Inverness. 
 And  while,  in  colouring  warm  and  true, 
 The  shadowy  map  glides  past  my  view, 
 Wishes  involuntary  start ; — 
 Oh,  could  I,  by  some  wizard  art, 
 Waft  me  with  wings  of  wind  away, 
 And  range  the  bright,  blue,  breezy  day 
 Where  Teign,  betwixt  his  tufted  fells, 
 Or  Lyn,  thro'  deeper,  duskier  dells, 
 Pursues  his  coy,  fantastic  course, 
 Dappled  with  crags,  with  cataracts  hoarse : 
 Or  where,  amidst  a  chaos  wild 
 Of  huge  loose  blocks  like  billows  pil'd 
 Thick  on  Arvonian  Glyder's  brow, 
 I  stood  awe-tranc'd,  and  far  below 
 Saw  lone  Llanberris'  grey  ravine, 
 Saw  strange  Nantfrangon's  grislier  scene ; 
 
EPISTLES.  51 
 
 Vision,  on  which  could  slumber  wake, 
 
 He  might  for  old  Avernus  take 
 
 Dark  Idwal's  murder-breathing  lake,* 
 
 While  Trevaen's  mass,  grotesque  and  grim, 
 
 Hell's  giant  centinel  might  seem  ! — 
 
 Or,  darting  north,  how  fain  I'd  hail 
 
 Ulleswater,  and  sweet  Patterdale  ; 
 
 Or,  onward,  seek  the  mightier  view 
 
 Benlomond  yields,  or  Benvenue  ; 
 
 Or  drink  amazement  at  Glenco  ; 
 
 Or  where,  new-swol'n  with  mountain  snow, 
 
 Fyres,  in  his  winter  glory,  flashes, 
 
 Frets,  foams,  precipitously  dashes, 
 
 And,  thundering,  with  a  smoke-cloud  crashes ! 
 
 Thus  oft  I  sit  in  dreamy  vein, 
 And  rove  my  rambles  o'er  again : 
 But  most,  in  meditation  sweet, 
 I  love  to  mind,  and  long  to  meet, 
 Those  few,  few  friends,  by  many  a  year, 
 And  many  an  old  remembrance,  dear. 
 
 *  Llyn  Idwal;  so  named,  it  is  said,  as  being  the  scene 
 where  prince  Idwal,  son  of  Owen  Gwyneth,  was  murdered 
 by  his  guardian :  a  scene,  as  Pennant  remarks,  fit  to  inspire 
 murderous  thoughts. 
 
 E2 
 
52 
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 What  are  the  charms  of  glen  or  glade, 
 
 Of  lake  or  mountain  or  cascade, 
 
 Of  woods  in  all  their  beauty  seen, 
 
 Or  cliffs  in  all  their  aweful  mien ; 
 
 What,  to  the  joys  of  nobler  kind, 
 
 Which  friends  in  that  communion  find 
 
 Of  heart  with  heart,  and  mind  with  mind  ? 
 
 Doom'd  thro'  the  world  to  toil  alone, 
 
 No  bosom  to  reflect  his  own, 
 
 Man  would  feel  life  a  load,  a  curse, 
 
 Would  groan  amidst  the  universe ; 
 
 All  nature  could  not  charm  his  pain, 
 
 Earth  were  a  paradise  in  vain  ; 
 
 So  unendear'd,  so  unenjoy'd, 
 
 Each  scene  were  "  without  form  and  void." 
 
 And  trust  me,  friend,  the  reason 's  this 
 In  life  there's  oft  so  little  bliss  : 
 Wealth,  honor,  taste,  yea  virtue,  granted, 
 Friendship's  "  the  one  thing  needful"  scanted. 
 Oh,  'tis  not  without  piteous  cause 
 Our  sires  have  left  us  those  sage  saws 
 Pointing  a  friend  the  diamond-stone, 
 As  worthiest,  hardest  to  be  won, 
 
EPISTLES.  53 
 
 Of  aught  in  whose  fond  search  we  toil 
 
 On  hope's  rich  mine,  or  life's  poor  soil. 
 
 Acquaintances,  I  know,  in  hosts, 
 
 (Light  outside  things,  mere  mocks  and  ghosts 
 
 Of  friendship,)  meet  us  where  we  please, 
 
 Found,  or  foregone,  with  equal  ease : 
 
 But  vainly,  'mongst  them  all,  I  sigh 
 
 For  one  with  your  heart-soothing  eye 
 
 Bright  with  each  varied  sympathy : 
 
 A  kindred  soul,  in  childhood  lov'd, 
 
 And,  since,  by  sweet  experience  prov'd ; 
 
 Whose  worth  no  change  of  years  or  cares, 
 
 Scenes  or  companionships,  impairs ; 
 
 How  few,  (and  oh,  how  blest  those  few!) 
 
 As  this  cold  world  they  journey  thro', 
 
 Light  on  one  soul  so  fond,  so  true  ! 
 
 — College  and  school  are  times  and  places 
 
 For  gathering  first-born  intimacies  ; 
 
 And  such,  whene'er  they  hold,  I'd  call 
 
 The  best,  the  brotherliest,  of  all. 
 
 But  where  is  many  an  early  friend, 
 
 With  whom  hope  beckon'd  me  to  spend 
 
 Long  pleasant  years,  how  unforeknown  ! 
 
 Whore  are  those  morning  visions  flown  ? 
 
54?  EPISTLES. 
 
 My  favorites  of  the  schoolboy  day, 
 Like  forward  blooms,  have  dropt  away : 
 And  then  for  college ;  there  tho'  night 
 Has  brought  us  that  divine  delight 
 When  thought  and  feeling  are  in  blow, 
 And  spirits  in  their  springtide  flow, 
 — Concert  of  souls,  than  pipe  or  string 
 Or  mellowest  voice  more  ravishing  ! — 
 Those  friends,  they  all  seem  vanish'd ;  one 
 From  earth — ah,  timelessly — withdrawn ; 
 The  rest,  as  good,  and  o'er  the  isle 
 Scattered  by  many  a  severing  mile. 
 'Tis  ever  thus  ;  and  half  as  well 
 I'd  hope  in  some  feign'd  spot  to  dwell, 
 Round  which  magnificently  cluster'd 
 The  scenes  my  wistful  memory  muster'd, 
 As  look  to'  enjoy,  concenter'd  here 
 For  life,  or  thickly  parcell'd  near, 
 The  little  groupe  my  heart  holds  dear. 
 
 Nor  is't  of  such  congenial  sweets, 
 Only,  that  heartless  absence  cheats ; 
 It  breeds,  when  each  the  other  meets, 
 A  strangeness,  oft,  a  chilly  dryness, 
 A  curst,  unconquerable  shyness. 
 
EPISTLES.  55 
 
 We  panted  for  the  rapturous  day, 
 We  forecast  worlds  to  feel  and  say : 
 >Tis  come ;  the  brief,  bright  vision  flies 
 In  silence  and  formalities. 
 
 Yet,  from  the  circling  upstart  race 
 Why  not  these  lost  old  friends  replace  ? — 
 And  ask'st  thou  ?  Ah,  thou  hast  not  known 
 How,  when  our  youthlier  years  are  gone, 
 The'  affections  come  not  forth  so  well, 
 The  heart  grows  less  approachable. 
 Friendship  is  like  a  garden  bower 
 That,  or  in  dark  or  shining  hour, 
 Shelters  or  soothes ;  but  then,  you'll  guess 
 The  trees  should,  in  their  tenderness, 
 Be  overarch'd  or  interwove ; 
 And  such  you'll  find  the  law  of  love. 
 
 Of  love?  Oh,  hail,  vouchsafed  by  heaven 
 To  set  the  loss  of  friendship  even, 
 To  give  us  all  the  world  in  one, 
 To  form  our  life's  domestic  sun ! — 
 Here,  on  one  breast  at  least,  reposes 
 The  wayworn  spirit ;  here  discloses 
 ts  joys,  hopes,  fears,  and  sorrows  ;  yes, 
 VII  its  own  laboring  consciousness. 
 
56  EPISTLES. 
 
 A  friend,  for  ever  at  your  side, 
 
 To  life,  thought,  passion,  all,  allied, 
 
 By  youth,  alike,  or  age,  made  dear, 
 
 By  happiness  or  grief, — is  here. 
 
 To  Love  then  hail !  and  hail  to  thee, 
 
 My  next  enchantress,  Poesy  I 
 
 (Next  in  regard,  but  first  in  time  :) 
 
 With  many  a  dim-remember'd  rhyme 
 
 My  tenderest  boyhood  thou  hast  nurs'd, 
 
 Thou  with  my  ripening  youth  conversed : 
 
 And  still,  in  lone  and  lovely  walk, 
 
 With  thee  I  oft  hold  silent  talk, 
 
 Nigh  where  on  lordly  Severn's  shores 
 
 Old  Avon  his  brown  tribute  pours. 
 
 —Comes  April  morn,  with  glimmering  green 
 
 And  kindling  blue  to'  enchant  the  scene  i 
 
 If  then,  in  warmer,  sprightlier  flood 
 
 Than  others',  plays  my  minstrel  blood ; — 
 
 Or  comes  November  night,  like  this  ? 
 
 If,  while,  in  chase  of  shadowy  bliss, 
 
 Most  fly  to  party,  ball,  or  play, 
 
 I  with  my  self-dependent  lay 
 
 Can  thus  my  friend,  myself,  amuse, 
 
 Nor,  haply,  nobler  guerdon  lose ; 
 
EPISTLES.  57 
 
 Not  lonely,  tho'  with  thee  alone ; — 
 Sweet  Poesy,  'tis  all  thine  own. 
 
 Farewell,  dear  cousin  !  Long  it  seems 
 Since,  prattling  of  our  favorite  themes, 
 We  sate  or  stroll'd :  and  much  I  fear, 
 When  choice  or  chance  shall  fix  thee,  year 
 On  year  will  dawn  and  disappear, 
 Ere,  parted  once,  our  hands  rejoin : 
 Come  then,—  what  checks  the  glad  design  ? 
 Come,  pitch  thy  dwelling  near  to  mine. 
 
 Nov,  1814. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 •  recordanti  plura,  magisque,  placent." 
 
 Ovid. 
 
 How  beautiful  the  scenes  that  rise, 
 
 Sweet  Keswick,  on  thy  wanderer's  view  ! 
 
 Yet  lovelier  still  their  image  lies 
 Upon  thy  Derwent's  mirror  blue : 
 
 Yes,  lovelier  in  thy  lake  appears 
 
 The  bordering  shade,  the  varied  vale ; 
 
 And  there  a  magic  tint  endears 
 
 Ev'n  the  grim  peaks  of  Borrowdale. 
 
 Remembrance,  (there  in  emblem  shown,) 
 Thus  to  the  mind's  reverted  eye 
 
 With  coloring,  fairer  than  its  own, 
 Presents  each  past  reality. 
 
60  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Who  but  on  boyhood's  treasur'd  scene 
 
 Hath  cast,  in  age,  a  wistful  gaze  ? 
 Yet  many  a  mingling  pang,  I  ween, 
 
 Would  mar  his  merriest  holidays  : 
 
 But  memory,  like  the  queen  of  night, 
 
 Half  gilds,  half  shades,  each  form,  which  viewed 
 In  morning's  broad  unflattering  light, — 
 
 How  chang'd  it  seems,  how  harsh  and  rude  ! 
 
 Sweet  were  the  days — too  sweet  to  last ! 
 
 That  saw  me,  warm  in  youthful  prime, 
 Pursue  my  pilgrimage  of  taste 
 
 Thro'  tracts  of  beauteous  and  sublime. 
 
 Sweet  were  the  days !  but  sweeter,  now, 
 Their  memory,  mellow'd  in  the  mind, 
 
 Rekindling  rapture's  purest  glow, 
 And  leaving  kindred  pains  behind. 
 
 When  fall  the  yellow  nights  of  June, 
 Lone  wandering,  to  myself  Pave  said, 
 
 "  At  such  an  hour,  with  such  a  moon, 
 I  sought  Helvellyn's  wonderous  head : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    FOEMS.  61 
 
 There  what  a  sight  the  new-born  day 
 Disclos'd  !" — In  that  inspiring  thought 
 
 The  feverish  toil,  the  clambering  way, 
 The  gasp  and  ache  were  all  forgot. 
 
 Still  would  the  present  scene  my  soul 
 
 With  huddling  charms  o'erwhelm,  confuse  : 
 
 Now,  sweetly  dim,  its  visions  roll, 
 
 And,  slumbering  erst,  rewake  the  muse. 
 
 Ev'n  books, — that  slily  sink  whate'er 
 
 Repells,  whate'er  allures  exalt, — 
 Bright  as  their  genuine  tints  appear, 
 
 Appear  more  exquisite  in  thought. 
 
 And  oft,  in  summer's  evening  walk, 
 
 And  oft,  at  winter's  social  hearth, 
 How  sweet  of  far-off  friends  to  talk, 
 
 And  fondly  paint  their  varied  worth  ! 
 
 Nor  chide  your  bard,  nor  heartless  deem 
 Or  churlish,  ye  that  share  his  breast, 
 
 If  lovelier  than  yourselves  ye  seem, 
 By  memory's  partial  pencil  dress'd  : 
 
62  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 
 
 She  takes  you  in  some  happier  mood, 
 Such  as,  methinks,  ye  still  shall  wear 
 
 When,  mortal  frailties  all  subdued, 
 Ye  mix  with  natures  heavenly  fair. 
 
 Hail,  memory !  sweet  enchantress,  hail ! 
 
 Still  may  thy  soft  reflected  rays, 
 Oh  still,  as  heretofore,  prevail 
 
 To  bless  and  beautify  my  days ! 
 
 And  dear  the  hope, — that  oft,  perchance, 
 
 The  disembodied  spirit  sends 
 From  yon  bright  spheres  a  backward  glance 
 
 On  earthly  scenes  and  human  friends. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  63 
 
 HOPE  AND  MEMORY. 
 
 (TO  A  GERMAN  AIR.) 
 
 Hope,  adieu ! 
 
 Faithless  charmer,  fly  my  view! 
 
 I,  for  substance  quitting  semblance, 
 
 Shadowy  hope  for  sure  remembrance, 
 
 Siren,  thee  no  longer  woo  : 
 
 Hope,  adieu ! 
 
 Memory,  hail ! 
 'Tis  with  thee  I  mean  to  dwell. 
 Dupe  of  hope,  no  more  I  languish  ; 
 Smiling  hope  but  lures  to  anguish  : 
 Thy  firm  pleasures  never  fail : 
 -Memory,  hail ! 
 
64  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 KILLICRANKIE.* 
 
 "  Exigui  numero,  sed  bello  vivida  virtus." 
 
 VlRG. 
 
 This  is  the  place ;  here  pause  we.  How  those  woods 
 Down  to  the  vale,  where  Garrie  brawls  along, 
 Seem  hurrying  from  their  height !  and  how  the  eye 
 Plunges  amidst  their  gulphs  on  gulphs  of  green, 
 Delighted  !     Beauty,  here,  and  grandeur,  thron'd 
 As  in  their  shrine,  our  pilgrim's  homage  ask. 
 Yet  what  is  beauty,  what  is  grandeur,  here  ? — 
 Who,  in  Thermopylae's  bleak  pass,  would  mark 
 Aught  of  material  circumstance,  the  crags 
 Of  iEta,  or  the  dash  of  senseless  waves? 
 And  who,  in  Killicrankie's  proud  defile, 
 
 *  A  picturesque  defile  in  the  northern  highlands  of  Perth- 
 shire, signalized  as  the  scene  in  which  Grahame,  Viscount 
 Dundee,  with  a  small  body  of  Highlanders,  defeated  the  forces 
 of  King  William  under  General  Mackay,  1689. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  65 
 
 Slights  not  the  charm  of  hanging  shades,  and  turns 
 His  mind's  eye  backward,  thro'  the  mist  of  years, 
 To  that  brave  day,  when,  hot  with  hope  to*  avenge 
 Their  James  unthroned,  and  check  the'  Usurper's 
 
 pride, 
 On  death  determined,  or  on  deathless  fame, 
 But  destined  this  to'  inherit,  that  to  deal, 
 Here,  with  his  little  hero  band,  Dundee 
 Fell  conquering  ?     Yes,  I  see  them  :  dark  the  sky, 
 To  suit  the  scene  so  dark  ;  where,  gaunt  and  grim, 
 Famish'd  and  furious,  from  their  northern  holds, 
 Like  wolves,  like  lions,  rush  those  mountaineers, 
 Burning  for  battle.     Sudden  they  descry, 
 (Not  in  tame  prudence  waiting  his  advance,) 
 The  foe  ;  and  with  a  shout  of  horrid  joy 
 Startle  the  mountain  echoes.     Tumult,  straight, 
 Turns  to  fair  soldier-like  array,  and  calm 
 Considerate  rage  ;  and  well  behoves  them  now  ; 
 For  now,  a  sevenfold  multitude,  the  foe 
 Fronts  them.     And  hark,  the  volley'd  thunder  S  see 
 The  glen  in  smoke  and  sulphur  all  involv'd ! — 
 The  gale  has  clear'd  it  now  ;  the  hosts  emerge  : 
 Those  glorious  rebels  with  their  dread  claymores 
 
 F 
 
€6  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 
 
 Grapple  in  fiercer  onset,  and  amain 
 
 The  rich  death-harvest  reap.   Where  now  the  pomp 
 
 Of  lowland  chargers,  that  so  well  sustain'd 
 
 The  roar  and  lightning  of  their  musquetry, 
 
 But  brook  not,  now,  the  broadsword  clash,  not,  now, 
 
 The  ghastlier  glare  of  blood  ?     Oh,  what  a  sea 
 
 Of  battle  boils  and  billows,  pent  betwixt 
 
 These  mountain  jaws  !  how  like  a  spring-tide  swell 
 
 Yon  Highlanders  roll  in  as  on  a  host 
 
 Of  swimmers,  faint,  and  yielding  to  the  death  ! 
 
 August,  endearing  proof,  that  valour,  thus 
 
 On  patriot  principle  and  national  zeal 
 
 'Stablish'd,  may  quell  the  multitudinous  might 
 
 Of  loath'd  invasion, — quell  with  few  !    Lo,  there 
 
 His  handful  of  high-hearted  volunteers 
 
 Dumbarton  hurls;  the'  artillery 's  captur'd;  here, 
 
 Spurring  upon  the  thickest,  hottest  fight, 
 
 Graeme  with  his  hundred, — Grseme,  himself  head, 
 
 soul, 
 Life-blood  of  that  small  body, — routs  Mackay 
 With  all  his  brigades,  all  his  chivalry, 
 Hir'd  from  the  South.    There  what  an  eye,  o'erbuilt 
 With  what  a  brow!  like  the  red  flash  that  breaks 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  67 
 
 The  long  dark  thunder-cloud  :  what  high  disdain, 
 What  desperate  anger  !  who  shall  bear  its  glance  I 
 Well  may  it  blast  and  wither  all  the  strength 
 And  spirit  of  that  poor  time-serving  host, 
 English,  or  awed  by  England.     While  we  gaze, 
 That  eye  is  quench'd  in  death  :  he  falls,  he  falls, 
 Glorying;  for,  all  around,  the  field  is  won, 
 And  Victory  hovers  o'er  him  with  her  crown 
 Of  laurel :  such  the  work  of  good  claymores  ! 
 Twelve  hundred  foemen  pile  the  sacrifice 
 Crown'd  by  Dundee ;  his  friends,  the  most  part,  stand, 
 Yet  fain,  (if  heaven  permitted,)  to  resign 
 Triumph  so  dear-bought:  shouts  are  sunk  in  groans  ; 
 The  rich  red  cup  of  vengeance,  flavorous  else, 
 'Tis  pall'd,  'tis  bitter'd  to  their  lips;  for  who, 
 Who,  like  the  Graeme,  to  glory  leads  their  wrath  ? 
 But  time  soon  mellows  that  regret  away, 
 Soon  leaves,  unmix'd,  the  joy.    His  deed,  his  death, 
 Hath  hallow'd,  hath  eterniz'd,  yonder  scene, 
 So  quiet  now ;  hath  fill'd  it,  to  the  eye 
 Of  lingering  fancy,  with  far  other  sight 
 Than  of  that  meadowy  glen  by  tufted  steeps 
 O'erbrow'd  ;  hath  fill'd  it,  to  her  ear,  with  sounds 
 
 f  2 
 
68  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 
 
 Far  other  than  the  voice  of  sheep,  and  birds, 
 And  Garrie  in  his  everlasting  flow ; — 
 Garrie,  now  pure,  but  how  discolor'd  erst 
 With  gore  and  trampling ! — Spirit-stirring  scene 
 Adieu :  thou  claim'st  the  feelings  of  an  hour 
 From  every  pilgrim  ;  I  have  paid  thee  mine, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  69 
 
 A  SEA-SIDE  CONTEMPLATION. 
 
 "  One  only  object  till'd  ear,  eye,  and  thought." 
 
 Madoc. 
 
 Once  more  with  ravishment  thy  face  I  hail, 
 
 Ocean,  beloved  ocean  !     From  afar, 
 
 From  inland  fields  and  smoke-envelop'd  town, 
 
 Oft  have  I  given  remembrances  to  thee 
 
 And  longings,  as  forerunners  of  myself; 
 
 And  now,  at  last,  I  see  and  hear  and  feel 
 
 Thy  glad,  thy  glorious  presence.     Ever  thus, 
 
 Upon  this  sun-brown  steep,  beside  this  crag 
 
 Half  weather-bleach'd,  half  ivied,  let  me  lie, 
 
 And  gaze  the  noon  away.     O'er  all  the  heaven 
 
 There's  not  one  little  speck  of  cloud  to  roar 
 
 Its  azure  vacancy :  the  single  sun 
 
 Amidst  his  bright  intensity  of  day 
 
 Sits  godlike.     This  above  ;  while  underneath, 
 
 Challenging  Heaven's  own  beauty,  spreads  the  sea; 
 
70  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 
 
 One  dark-blue  contrast;  save  where  silvery  streaks 
 Glitter  and  vanish  with  each  foam-tipt  wave, 
 And,  scarce  from  these  distinguishable,  skims 
 The  gull,  his  wings  with  sunny  burnish  lin'd ; 
 Or  where,  o'er  all  that  space  on  which  the  sun 
 Flames  vertical,  the  billows  heave  and  flash, 
 Twinkling  as  with  innumerable  stars, 
 A  flood  of  restless  light.     But  mark  how  bold 
 Yon  promontory  thrusts  into  the'  abyss 
 Its  huge  dark  foot,  where,  thwarted  in  his  haste, 
 The'  indignant  surge  his  hoar  and  ridgy  back 
 Up  curls,  and  crashes  in  a  smoke  of  spray; 
 And  mark  how  beautiful  the  gliding  sail 
 Gleams  gradual  from  behind  that  jutting  point, 
 Then,  as  instinct  with  spirit,  wings  her  way 
 Athwart  the  waters.     Hence  the  joyous  eye 
 Follows  a  long,  receding,  fading  line 
 Of  coast;  whose  beachy  whiteness  well  sets  off 
 Ocean's  deep  hue,  there  deepening.     Still  beyond, 
 Where  sight  half  doubts  its  own  intelligence, 
 A  far-off  isle,  sky-tinted,  hangs  in  heaven, 
 Like  a  cloud  hovering  on  the'  horizon's  verge, 
 — Hour  after  hour,  all  unperceiv'd,  steals  hy9 
 While  o'er  a  scene  like  this,  with  poring  gaze, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  71 
 
 I  indolently  linger  ;  and  sometimes, 
 
 With  half-clos'd  eyelids  and  half-conscious  mind, 
 
 Lie  listening  to  that  loud  yet  lulling  sound 
 
 By  ever-breaking  billows  ever  peal'd ; 
 
 Like  wind  among  the  wood-tops,  fainter  now, 
 
 Swelling  anon,  like  muffled  thunder. — Who, 
 
 Who,  in  such  nameless  measureless  content  * 
 
 Shut  up,  such  undefinable  delight, 
 
 Can  turn  from  Nature's  living  self  to  those 
 
 That  best  her  charms  have  featur'd ;  tho'  the  glass 
 
 Be  Shakspeare's  own,  or  Southey's  ?     On  the  turf, 
 
 Slighted  as  cold  and  cheerless,  lies  the  strain 
 
 Which  else  hath  oft  ta'en  prisoner  all  the  soul. 
 
 Or,  if  the  vacant  mind  to  aught  beside 
 
 Wake  from  its  dreamy  trance,  'twill  be  to  olothe 
 
 Its  fantasies  and  feelings,  vague  till  then 
 
 And  incoherent,  with  what  shape  and  hue 
 
 And  combination  Poesy  approves  ; 
 
 Then  happiest,  when  she  holds  communion  free 
 
 With  Heaven,  Earth,  Ocean;  and,  at  random  thrown 
 
 On  the  live  greensward,  o'er  the  azure  sky 
 
 Looks  up,  looks  downward  o'er  the  purple  sea ; 
 
 *  M  Shut  up  in  measureless  content. '—Macbeth. 
 
72  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 While,  round  her,  'tis  one  universal  smile 
 Of  sunshine. — Oh,  how  different,  then,  the  mood, 
 — That  bardlike  mood,  that  rush  and  glow  of  thought 
 And  passion  and  expression,  with  its  fire 
 Of  eye,  and  thrill  of  blood,  and  springtide  swell 
 Of  spirits  ;  that  diviner  mood,  akin 
 To  Inspiration  ; — Oh  how  different  'tis 
 From  sluggish  heartless  languor,  such  as  oft 
 Who  but  hath  groan'd  with,  pent  in  twilight  cell 
 Arid  book-row  walls,  or  mid'  suburban  walks 
 Loitering,  and,  (tho'  with  difficult  effort,)  fain 
 To  rouse  his  muse  deep-slumbering,  and  push  on 
 Some  lagging  labor  ? — But  not  then,  my  bards, 
 Write  ye,  nor  there !  haste  hitherward,  when  here, 
 With  tenderest  azure  grac'd,  and  sprightliest  airs, 
 The  sweet  September  dav/ns.     So,  smelling  fresh 
 Of  Nature,  shall  your  lays  win  every  heart 
 By  Nature  won ;  and,  many  a  summer's  eve, 
 Or  in  the  woods  or  on  the  echoing  shore, 
 We  '11  bear  you  forth,  companions  of  our  way ; 
 And,  many  a  winter's  morning,  by  the  fire, 
 We  '11  make  your  page  a  mirror  to  reflect 
 The  deepest  dearest  motions  of  our  breasts. 
 But  see,  the  tide,  fast-ebbing,  bids  explore 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  73 
 
 These  cliffs,  below,  wave-eaten  into  chasms 
 
 And  caverns,  not  without  due  clambering  ;  first, 
 
 As  thro'  a  troubled  stream  of  huge  rough  stones, 
 
 Confus'dly  pil'd,  behoves  me  wade;  and  oft, 
 
 Half  desperate  of  success,  I  half  resign 
 
 The  toilsome  task,  and  vision  out  as  oft, 
 
 (With  all  the  glowing  imagery  of  fear, ) 
 
 That  hideous  fate,  should  the  big  billowy  mass, 
 
 Which  hides  each  crag  and  crowds  each  creeky  nook, 
 
 O'er  my  surpris'd  retreat  come  hurrying  back 
 
 In  all  its  merciless  rage,  and  plunge  me  down 
 
 With  whirlwind  sweep,  down  to  the  mid  sea-depth*. 
 
 Of  such  thoughts  full,  I  enter  now  the  cave : 
 
 Narrow  its  portal,  but  within  there  yawns 
 
 A  vast  and  high-roof  'd  hall,  of  murkiest  gloom 
 
 At  first,  but  gradual  glimmering  as  my  sight 
 
 Grows  to  its  dusk  familiar  and  conform. 
 
 How  sweet,  here  seated  on  the  living  stone, 
 
 To  mark,  thro'  yon  dim  vista,  where  the  sun, 
 
 Amidst  a  heaven  of  gold  slow-sinking,  sheds 
 
 O'er  the  green  waves  a  tremulous  long  line 
 
 Of  golden  glitterance  !     Now  his  broadening  orb 
 
 Just  hovers  on  the  ocean-verge,  'tis  now 
 
 Half-seen,  a  mere  speck  now, — and  now  'tis  gone. 
 
74f  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Yet,  while  to  other  climes  his  fiery  car 
 Precipitates,  backward  o'er  the  west  awhile 
 He  throws  his  yellow  mantle. — Could  I  take 
 The  ruddy  wings  of  Morning,  and  pursue 
 His  roundings,  what  a  joy  it  were  to  watch 
 Sea  upon  sea  still  opening,  as  we  sped, 
 Land  upon  land,  till  the  whole  globe  of  dry 
 Or  liquid  had  roll'd  back  beneath  our  glance ! 
 But,  more  than  all  the  face  of  Earth  could  show, 
 Or  all  the  face  of  Ocean,  fain  Pd  view, 
 (By  mortal  tongue  ne'er  told,  by  mortal  ear, 
 Since  first  yon  billows  buffeted  their  beach, 
 Heard  never, )  the  coy  wonders  of  the  deep, 
 The  submarine  retirements,  in  broad  day 
 Divulg'd,  and  obvious  to  the'  astounded  gaze : 
 That  huge  receptacle,  by  some  strange  ebb 
 Drain'd  of  its  waters,  headlong  toward  the  pole 
 Or  by  magnetic  influence  drawn,  or  driven 
 By  tempest  violence.     Oh  that,  in  an  ark  * 
 Of  crystal,  like  old  Merlin,  I  could  reach 
 The  sea-roots,  and,  in  emerald  light,  survey 
 The'  august  invisibilities  beneath  ! 
 
 *  See  the  exquisitely  beautiful  song  of  Caradoc,  in  Madoc- 
 Part  I.  sect.  11. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  (D 
 
 There  what  an  unimaginable  world, 
 
 What  scenes  of  more  than  earthly  grandeur  there, 
 
 Would  from  their  old  original  darkness  start, 
 
 As  if  once  more  the'  omnific  voice  were  heard, 
 
 "  Let  there  be  light !" — Ev'n  now  methinks  I  pierce 
 
 Those  realms  :  around  me  rocks  and  mountains  rise, 
 
 In  outline  more  fantastic  than  the  clouds 
 
 Of  evening  ;  nor  less  various  in  their  hues ; 
 
 And  of  such  unapproached  bulk,  that  Alps 
 
 Or  Andes,  mix'd  with  these,  were  shrunk,  were 
 
 dwarf  d. 
 For  every  isle  that  on  the  desert  brine 
 Shews  its  green  front,  yea  each  huge  continent, 
 What  is  it  but  the*  emerging  ridge  or  peak 
 Of  mountains,  whose  immeasurable  sides 
 Lurk  in  the  waves  they  girdle  round,  wThose  feet 
 Are  stablish'd  in  the  central  core  of  earth  ? 
 Where,  all  below  the  plunge  of  diving  whale, 
 Below  the  search  of  fathoming  plummet,  plains 
 And  valleys,  ampler  far  than  these  terrene, 
 Spread  coextensive  with  the'  o'erspreading  main. 
 Part,  openest  champaign,  where  above,  perchance, 
 Rolls  the  Pacific  or  the'  Atlantic;  part, 
 By  many  a  strange  and  fearful  precipice 
 
76  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 O'erbeetled,  narrowest,  deepest,  darkest  glens, 
 As  where  those  clustering  Cyclades  inlay 
 The'  iEgean,  or  Azonian  Pico  towers, 
 Or  Otaheite  midst  her  islet  groupe 
 Sits,  like  a  Nereid  with  her  nymphs  begirt, 
 Smiling. — Nor  deem  these  sea-lands  unadorn'd ; 
 But  thick  with  forests  here,  and  groves,  and  bowers, 
 Of  coral,  some  smooth-rinded  and  of  clear 
 Unvarnish'd  red,  some  pale  and  grey,  and  rough 
 With  fretwork  delicately  fair  beyond 
 What  the  light  Gothic  chisel  best  hath  wrought : 
 While  meads  of  seaweed,  numberless  in  kinds 
 And  colours,  there,  delicious  pasturage 
 Spread  for  the  grazing  dwellers  of  the  deep. 
 Add  banks  of  spunge,  soft  as  the  tenderest  moss : 
 Myriads  of  shells,  for  flowers,  with  rainbow  tints 
 Or  fleck' d  or  stain'd,  and  o'er  the  wrinkly  sands 
 Now  scatter'd,  now  in  many  a  curious  grot 
 Embedded  thick. — Castles,  beside,  and  towers, 
 And  streets,  and  squares,  with  sparkling  diamonds 
 
 rich 
 And  pearly  dimness,  rich  with  silver  ore 
 And  golden ;  beggaring  all  the  pomp  and  wealth 
 Of  Rome  or  Cairo  or  old  Babylon : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  77 
 
 Arches,  that  might  bestride  Missouri's  wrath, 
 
 Where,  conqueror-like,  his  broad  brown  waters  roll 
 
 On  Mississippi,  forcing  the  pure  flood, 
 
 (Tho'  king  of  earthly  rivers,)  many  a  league 
 
 To  wear  his  sullying  hue  :  then  pyramids, 
 
 Dwindling  to  insignificance  of  bulk 
 
 And  age  the  piles  of  Memphis  :  colonnades, 
 
 Vaults,  obeliskg,  and  cathedral  cupolas, 
 
 Mocking  whate'er  Religion,  in  her  frauds, 
 
 Gay  with  the  spoils  of  superstitious  Fear, 
 
 Hath  built,  or  Eastern  pride ;  worthiest  of  gaze 
 
 And  wonder  and  loud  fame ;  capacious  too 
 
 Of  millions  ;  in  unconscious  loneliness 
 
 Lost,  and  death-silence,  and  perpetual  night. 
 
 Cavern'd  in  kindred  solitude  and  gloom 
 And  stillness,  (save  the  deadend  din  of  waves,) 
 I  sit,  by  sweet  unconsciousness  deceiv'd 
 Of  place  or  time ;  then,  from  the'  enhancement 
 
 wak'd, 
 With  groping  step  my  damp  and  dismal  cell 
 Quit,  and  with  strange  unwonted  joy  peep  forth 
 Upon  the  blessed  air.     There  what  a  sight 
 Of  beauty !  for  the  moon,  now  loveliest,  streams 
 Her  soft  and  quivering  shine  o'er  yonder  waves 
 
iQ  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Quietly  heaving.     A  lone  fisher's  boat, 
 
 (His  own  rude  figure  leaning  for  the  net,) 
 
 Moves  dark  athwart  the  glory.     At  my  feet 
 
 The  thick-returning  breakers  fall  like  snow 
 
 Huddled  in  drifts.     The  shadow  of  that  cloud 
 
 Lies  like  a  purple  island  on  the  sea ; 
 
 And  yellow,  in  the  moonshine's  holy  calm, 
 
 That  craggy  headland  sleeps.     How  shall  I  quit 
 
 The'  enchanting  scene  ?  how,  after  hours  like  these, 
 
 Endure,  with  long  last  look,  to  breathe  adieu, 
 
 What  time  the  sweet  blue  line  of  Ocean  fades 
 
 Behind  some  envious  hill,  and  home  I  haste 
 
 To  inland  fields  and  smoke-envelop'd  town; 
 
 To  hear,  for  this  one  unobtrusive  sound, 
 
 The  harsh  distracting  noises  that  proclaim 
 
 Commerce  amidst  his  multitudinous  wheels  ? 
 
 — Yet  worthier,  if  less  pleasurable,  there, 
 
 My  life  may  flow.     Were  here  my  lot  to  dwell, 
 
 Here  I  might  wear  away  morn,  noon,  and  eve, 
 
 In  gazing,  feeling,  dreaming,  or,  at  best, 
 
 In  the  dear  indolence  of  Poesy; 
 
 Deserter  of  the  post  in  busier  haunts, 
 
 Mark'd  me  by  Heaven's  high  will ;  and  unprepared 
 
 For  that  dread  reckoning  which,  in  the'  after-world, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  79 
 
 Shall  read  our  fates,  as  here  we  heed  or  slight 
 The  rights  of  God  and  man  by  faith  and  love. 
 
 Then,  Ocean,  I  must  leave  thee  soon ;  'tis  good ; 
 Yet  soon,  (I'll  hope,)  to  resalute :  for  oh, 
 In  temperate  unreprov'd  fruition,  thus, 
 May  Autumn  ever  find  me,  on  thy  cliffs 
 Lying,  or  sauntering  o'er  the  sands  below  ! 
 So  shall  I  meet,  with  vigor  fresh-inspir'd, 
 Home-duties;  to  these  unfamiliar  eyes 
 So  shall  thy  charms  in  livelier  glow  return  ; 
 A  joy  of  Reason,  so,  shall  midst  the  pangs 
 Of  Fancy  mix,  when,  (as  erelong,)  I  sigh, 
 11  Ocean,  beloved  Ocean, — fare  thee  well !" 
 
80  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS, 
 
 SNOWDON. 
 
 "  Cambrorum  e  montibus  unum 
 
 Accipiam  vice  Pindi."— Holdsworth's  Muscipula. 
 
 "  If  I  can  be  to  thee 
 
 A  poet,  thou  Parnassus  art  to  me."— Cooper's  Hill. 
 
 'Twas  night ;  the  moon,  full-orb'd,  rode  bright  and 
 
 high  ; 
 Still  was  the  air,  and  beautiful  the  sky ; 
 When,  mighty  Snowdon,  up  thy  toilsome  side 
 I  wound  my  way  behind  a  peasant  guide. 
 
 Breathes  not  a  sound  the  deep  repose  to  mar, 
 Save  when  the  sheep-dog  faintly  yells  a-far ; 
 Or,  scarce  distinguished  by  its  foamy  gleam, 
 When  brawls  athwart  our  track  the  tumbling  stream. 
 How  sweet  the  scene,  how  solemn ! — PenciPd  clear 
 Upon  the  pure  defining  atmosphere, 
 Awefully  huge,  the  mountains  heave  around, 
 Each  sable  mass  with  silver  moonshine  crown'd, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  81 
 
 With  silver  moonshine  Cwethly's  lovely  llyn 
 Sleeping,  (as  'twere,)  two  giant  guards  between, 
 While  here  thy  rounded  steeps,  green  Eilio,  tower, 
 And  there  frowns  dark  the  craggier  Mynnyd-Mawr : 
 Yet,  as  we  rise  and  leave  the  vale  behind, 
 Ev'n  these  their  gradual  diminution  find ; 
 As,  where  we  pass,  Cynghorion*  seems  to  say, 
 '<  Behold  the  king  of  mountains !  here's  the  wray." 
 
 The  day-star,  now,  lone  lingerer,  fades;  and  mark 
 How  pale  our  moving  shadows,  late  so  dark : 
 Speed  we !  lest  all  our  hopes  and  toils  be  vain  ; 
 Lest  the  sun  peep  ere  yon  proud  point  we  gain  : 
 Light  thickens  fast;  the  whitening  dawn  appears, 
 Just  where  her  crown  imperial  Wythva  rears  ;-j~ 
 Thin  day-spring  clouds,  now  pink,  now  golden,  spread 
 A  momentary  wreath  around  her  head. 
 
 NotMithra's  white-robed  seers,  with  stronger  zeal, 
 The  god  of  day  and  Persia  wake  to  hail, 
 Than  up  the  steep  rough  path  we  fiercely  press'd, 
 With  aching  limbs  and  palpitating  breast ; 
 Scarce,  in  the  vehemence  of  heat  and  haste, 
 Loitering  the  live  aereal  fount  to  taste; 
 
 •  Moel  y  Cynghorion,  or  Hill  of  Counsel, 
 t  YrWyddfa,  or  the  Conspicuous;  the  Welch  name  of  ihe 
 topmost  peak. 
 
 G 
 
82  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS,. 
 
 Scarce  with  a  backward  glance  the  lessening  dell, 
 But  eyeing  with  full  gaze  that  envied  pinnacle. 
 
 'Tis  finish'd :  what  a  scene  before  us  lies ! 
 Is  it  a  vision  ?  may  I  trust  these  eyes  ? 
 The  heaven  is  pure ;  but  over  all  below, 
 (  Save  to  the  seaward,  whence  we  sought  the  brow,) 
 Hangs  one  wide-undulating  sea  of  clouds, 
 And  the  whole  inland  prospect  whitely  shrouds : 
 The  broad  brown  ridges  here  and  there  emerge, 
 Like  whales  quiescent  on  the  noontide  surge. 
 
 High  on  the  peak,  amidst  the*  enormous  waste 
 Of  billowy  vapor  scarce  beneath  me  cast, 
 I  seem  a  shipwreck'd  youth,  who  looks  around, 
 From    some  lone    cape,   o'er   ocean's   hoar   pro- 
 found;* 
 And,  while  the  toil-drops  from  my  brows  I  clear, 
 In  rapid  change  what  fierce  extremes  I  bear, 
 
 *  Beattie,  in  one  of  his  finest  stanzas,  had  so  exactly  repre- 
 sented this  astonishing  scene,  that  his  diction  was  not  easily 
 altered  or  improved : 
 
 "What  dreadful  pleasure!  there  to  stand  sublime, 
 Like  shipwreck'd  mariner  on  desert  coast, 
 And  view  the'  enormous  waste  of  vapor,  tost 
 
 In  billows,  lengthening  to  the'  horizon  round, 
 Now  scoop'd  in  gulphs,  with  mountains  now  emboss'd !" 
 
 Minsirel,  Book  J. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  83 
 
 A  feverish  glow,  a  bleak  and  boisterous  air  ! 
 With  dread  delight  I  pause,  and  fix'd  amaze ; 
 When,  kindling  into  one  unclouded  blaze, 
 The  orient  burns,  and,  glorious  to  behold, 
 The  sun  springs  upward,  bath'd  in  living  gold. 
 
 At  his  approach  those  exhalations,  nurs'd 
 By  darkness,  forth  in  huddling  crowds  dispers'd, 
 All  in  a  moment  swept  along  the  skj% 
 And  caught  the  mount  in  bright  obscurity. 
 Lost  is  the  sun,  the  heaven,  the  circling  scene ; 
 Yet  oft  a  vista,  the  torn  clouds  between, 
 Half  shows,  half  shades,  rock,  lake,  and  deep  ravine. 
 (For  tho'  'twas  one  blank  indistinction  here, 
 Down  in  the  glens  the  day  was  calm  and  clear :) 
 Inspher'd  in  silver  haze,  we  seem  a  space 
 The  heaven-dropt  genii  who  these  confines  trace. 
 Sudden  the  mists  are  fled  ;  they  seek  the  west ; 
 The  wild  and  wondrous  vision  shines  confess'd. 
 Just  as  the  curtain,  swift  updrawn,  displays 
 Theatral  splendours  to  the'  expectant  gaze. 
 Magnificent  confusion  !     Mountains  rise 
 O'er  mountains,  quaint  of  form  and  vast  of  size  ; 
 Some   filleted  with   cloud,  and   blended  with    the 
 skies. 
 
 g  2 
 
84  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 
 
 Nor  less  diversity  their  lakes  betray ; 
 These  black  in  shade,  those  glittering  in  the  day. 
 But  ha,  where  stand  I  ?  see  what  strange  abyss 
 Yawns  fast  beside  this  dizzy  precipice  !  * 
 And  see,  in  depth  of  this  o'ershadowing  crater, 
 Amidst  the  awful  stillness  of  great  nature, 
 Those  two  f  coy  Hyns,  dark-purple,  and  of  shape 
 Jagg'd  into  many  a  fairy  creek  and  cape. 
 There  on  my  left,  (a  dire  descent  below!) 
 Thy  sweet  romantic  valley  well  I  know, 
 Llanberris  !  view'd  in  miniature  from  high, 
 As  thro'  the  telescope's  inverted  eye  : 
 There  too  thy  rustic  church,  with  yews  beside ; 
 And  that  grey  tower,  J  whose  melancholy  pride 
 Looks  on  thy  sister-lakes  ;  while  many  a  mile 
 Beyond  where  these  in  their  lone  beauty  smile, 
 Spreads  as  a  map  old  Mona's  Druid  isle. 
 
 *  This  deep,  dark  hollow,  opening  on  the  eastern  side  of 
 Snowdon,  lodges  two  small  llyns,  (as  the  Welch  call  their 
 lakes,)  and,  as  Miss  Smith  observes,  *  answers  in  some  respects 
 to  our  idea  of  a  vokanic  crater."  A  similar  and  still  sublimer 
 chasm,  near  the  summit  of  Cader  Idris,  has  been  painted  by 
 the  celebrated  Wilson. 
 
 t  Ffynnon  las  and  llyn  Llydan.— See  Pennant. 
 
 $  Castell  Dolbadern. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  85 
 
 Now  turn  we  where  the  western  billow  streams, 
 Dazzling,  and  streak'd  with  morn's  ascending  beams ; 
 Now  where  the  ridge  of  Idris,  dimly  blue, 
 Far  in  the'  horizon  shuts  the  northward  view. 
 
 All-beauteous  offspring  of  the'  all-beauteous  mind, 
 Majestically  rude,  and  carelessly  refin'd, 
 Oh,  Nature,*  how  thyself  thou  blazon'st  here, 
 How  makest  the  littleness  of  Art  appear  ! — 
 Here,f  where  the  bard  attuned  thy  praise  of  yore, 
 Here,  where  thy  priest,  the  Druid,  search'd  thy 
 
 lore, 
 Where  stern  Caractacus  proclaim'd  thy  rights, 
 Where  good  Llewellyn  wooed  thy  wild  delights, 
 Where  the  rapt  soul  has  beam'd  thro'  many  an  eye, 
 And  many  a  breast  has  throbb'd  with  ecstacy ; 
 Here  on  this  heavenward  pile,  as  in  thy  shrine, 
 Amidst  this  master-scene  of  Power  Divine, 
 I  scorn  the  glare  of  intermeddling  art, 
 Thee,  thee  I  hail  the  goddess  of  my  heart. 
 
 *  "  Thou  divine  Nature,  how  thyself  thou  blazon'st!" 
 
 Cymbeline. 
 t  "  Snowdon  was  held  as  sacred  by  the  antient  Britons,  as 
 Parnassus  by  the  Greeks  or  Ida  by  the  Cretans.  It  is  still  said 
 that  whosoever  slept  on  Snowdon  would  wake  inspired." 
 
 Pennant's  North  IVales;  Snowdonia. 
 
86  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 For  some  thou  know'st,  who  here,  whole  summer 
 days, 
 With  thee  would  wander,  and  on  thee  would  gaze, 
 Thy  charms  detect,  thy  unknown  features  seek, 
 And  bear  a  moss  or  stone  from  every  peak. 
 Such  was  the  maid, — but  she  thy  martyr  died, — 
 Who,  in  thy  converse,  wish'd  no  joy  beside, 
 Tho'  graced  by  art,  and  once  to  fortune  dear ; 
 The  lovely,  lost  Eliza :  she  stood  here  !  * 
 
 And  is  there,  Nature,  in  sublunar  clime 
 An  ampler  heaven,  a  landscape  more  sublime  ? 
 Yet  ask  not :  here  tho'  wide  the  scene,  and  wild, 
 How  would  it  fade  where  Alps  on  Alps  are  pil'dlf 
 Or  where,  a  whole  day's  clambering  journey  high, 
 Peruvian  Chimborazo  props  the  sky ! — 
 He  at  the  line,  enrobed  in  living  snow, 
 Scarce  marks  the  mustering  clouds  mid-way  below, 
 
 *  Elizabeth  Smith.  The  relation,  given  in  one  of  her  letters, 
 of  her  visit  to  this  mountain,  is  highly  natural,  animating,  and 
 interesting. 
 
 t  Snowdon  rises,  in  perpendicular  elevation,  about  3,600  feet 
 above  the  neighbouring  sea.  Mont- Blanc  and  Mont- Rosa,  the 
 rival  sovereigns  of  the  Alps,  rise,  each,  between  15  and  16,000 
 feet ;  and  Chimborazo,  the  king  of  the  Andes,  has  been  esti- 
 mated by  Humboldt  at  21,440  feet,  or  six  times  the  height  of 
 Snowdon. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  87 
 
 And,  throned  in  noiseless  solitude,  derides 
 
 The  lowland  thunder  murmuring  round  his  sides. 
 
 Enough  for  me,  in  home-born  scenes  like  these, 
 To  riot  on  thy  guiltless  luxuries  ; 
 To  pierce  these  glens ;  and,  chief,  to  scale  these 
 
 heights, 
 Where  hours  of  labour  one  short  glance  requites, 
 Where  swells  the  spirit,  fancy  walks  abroad, 
 And  strong  devotion  feels  the  present  God. 
 
 But  life  demands  us,  and  low-thoughted  care ; 
 Yet  hither,  oft,  shall  memory  repair, 
 Paint  each  small  circumstance  as  fresh  and  true 
 As  in  yon  lakes  their  mirror'd  banks  I  view, 
 With  ardent  gaze  her  portraiture  survey, 
 Rewake  the  transport,  and  react  the  day ; 
 And,  were  but  mine  Aladdin's  genius,  he* 
 Should  waft  me,  Nature,  back  —  to  Snowdon  and  to 
 thee. 
 
 •  Alluding  to  that  fine  romance  of  the  '  AVonderful  Lamp'  in 
 the  *  Arabian  Nights.' 
 
88  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 ON  REVISITING  BETHGELERT, 
 
 IN  CAERNARVONSHIRE. 
 
 "  Ille  terrarum  mihi  piaster  omnes 
 An^ulus  ridet."  Hor. 
 
 Once  more,  Bethgelert,  yet  once  more, 
 Thou  sweet  sequester'd  village,  hail ! 
 
 Once  more,  enchanted,  I  explore 
 The  windings  of  thy  fairy  vale. 
 
 Thy  rustic  church,  thy  rustic  bridge, 
 Thy  mill,  thy  cots,  thy  peasant  train, 
 
 Circled  by  many  a  shadowing  ridge  ;«— 
 I  joy  to  see  them  all  again. 
 
 How  often,  in  excursive  thought, 
 
 (Since  here  I  stroll'd  a  summer's  day,) 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  89 
 
 These  wild  retirements  have  I  sought, 
 And  wish'd  me  wings  to  waft  away  ! 
 
 Here,  have  I  said,  how  blest  to  dwell, 
 When  Nature  wears  her  sunshine  smile  ; 
 
 To  pause  o'er  Gwynan's  lovely  dell, 
 Or  Aberglasslyn's  dark  defile  ! 
 
 Or  Hebog's  crest,  or  Eilio's  climb, 
 
 Or  muse  by  Nantle's  glasslike  blue ; 
 Or  grope  my  mountain  path  sublime 
 
 Festiniog's  gentler  charms  to  view ! 
 
 Nor  far  that  vale,  so  sweetly  rude, 
 
 Named  of  thy  tower,  lone  Dolwythelan  ; 
 
 With  trees  and  crags  and  knolls  bestrew'd, 
 And  hid  by  Shiabod  rudely  swelling. 
 
 Nor  far  Llanberris,  hermit  glen, 
 
 Where  Snowdon  rears  his  aweful  head, 
 
 Holding  a  thousand  leagues  in  ken, 
 By  hovering  clouds  oft  visited  : 
 
 Llanberris  !  what  a  meet  abode 
 For  him  that,  lost  to  life  and  care, 
 
90  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Would  talk  with  Nature  and  with  God, 
 See  them  in  clouds,  in  thunders  hear ! 
 
 Hail,  powerful  scenes,  that  swell  the  mind, 
 Where  Nature  reigns  in  savage  state, 
 
 Untrimm'd,  unaltered,  unconfined, 
 Fresh  from  the  God,  and  freely  great ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  91 
 
 THE  SEASONS, 
 
 PAINTING   THE   YEAR. 
 
 "  How  Nature  paints  her  colours!"         Milt. 
 
 Languid  beneath  the  glow  of  June, 
 I  laid  me  by  a  bowery  stream ; 
 
 Sleep  visited  my  senses  soon, 
 
 But  Fancy,  inward,  wak'd  to  dream. 
 
 Turn'd  to  a  picture  I  beheld 
 
 The  scene  on  which  my  lids  had  closed, 
 The  grove,  the  garden,  and  the  field, 
 
 With  herd  and  hamlet  interposed. 
 
 But  oh,  that  picture  wore  an  air 
 
 Like  Winters,  when  he  surliest  lours  ; 
 
 The  field  was  white,  the  grove  was  bare, 
 The  garden  rifled  of  its  flowers. 
 
92  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 I  sigh'd,  heart-heavy  with  regret, 
 For  all  that  charm'd  me  waking  erst ; 
 
 When,  as  I  gazed,  an  object  met 
 My  wonder,  and  my  grief  dispersed. 
 
 Sprightly  and  beautiful  and  young, 
 A  virgin  toward  the  picture  came, 
 
 And  with  a  first  faint  tint  begun 
 To  touch  its  blank  uncolor'd  frame. 
 
 How  lightly  fell  that  shading  hue ! 
 
 — Thou  would'st  have  almost  said,  I  ween, 
 That,  over  all,  some  sorceress  threw 
 
 A  vapor  or  thin  veil  of  green : 
 
 And  where  'twas  drear  and  dark  and  dead, 
 Such  grace  on  every  part  she  pour'd, 
 
 Such  light  and  life  and  joyance  shed, 
 — By  heaven,  'twas  paradise  restored. 
 
 She  seem'd  to  melt  from  sight  anon : 
 So  stealingly  her  steps  withdrew, 
 
 I  might  not  say  the  maid  was  gone 
 Till  in  her  place  1  mark'd  a  new ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  93 
 
 Who  dawn'd  as  gradual,  with  a  mien 
 
 More  flush  and  ripe  than  she  that 's  flown  ; 
 
 That  was  a  girl  at  sweet  fifteen, 
 
 A  woman  this,  in  charms  full-blown. 
 
 Her  pencil  with  a  deepening  green 
 
 Retouch'd  and  thicken'd  lawns  and  bowers, 
 
 And  added  to  the  garden  scene 
 A  thousand  fairy-featured  flowers  ; 
 
 And  gave,  with  Lorraine's  art  divine, 
 
 The  westering  sun  to  cast  a  gleam 
 Of  richest,  mellowest,  sweetest  shine 
 
 O'er  the  gilt  wood  and  burnish'd  stream. 
 
 Entranced,  upon  the  piece  I  gazed, 
 
 Nor  knew  my  colourist  was  lost, 
 Ere,  turning,  I  perceived,  amazed, 
 
 Some  stranger  had  usurp'd  her  post. 
 
 A  pensive  and  half-faded  form, 
 
 A  drooping  beauty,  this  appear'd ; 
 Ruddied  the  fruit  with  blushes  warm, 
 
 Yellow'd  the  leaf,  imbrown'd  the  beard. 
 
94  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Where,  late,  the  sunset  glory  spread, 
 Now  a  dim  haze  of  twilight  hung ; 
 
 Sere  sallow  foliage  now  was  shed 
 Where  roses,  late,  and  woodbine  sprung. 
 
 i 
 
 But  here  an  old  man  rush'd  within  ; 
 
 His  cheek  was  pale,  austere  his  eye ; 
 Boisterous  athwart  the  mimic  scene 
 
 He  dash'd  his  hand  with  whirlwind  cry. 
 
 I  shrunk ;  while  grimly  in  his  pride 
 He  smiled,  as  o'er  a  conquest  won  ; 
 
 All  bloom,  all  colour,  was  destroy'd, 
 The  dull  dusk  outline  'scap'd  alone. 
 
 "  Where  is  that  lovely  picture  ?  where 
 Those  lovely  limners  ?"  I  exclaim'd 
 
 In  all  the  heart-ache  of  despair ; 
 
 "  Who  mars  a  work  so  finely  framed  ? 
 
 "  Oh  what  is  life  or  pleasure  now?" 
 — A  matron,  as  I  paused,  came  nigh ; 
 
 The  grace  of  Venus  on  her  brow 
 Mingled  with  Juno's  majesty. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  95 
 
 And  "  Cheer  thee,  child,"  she  sweetly  said; 
 
 11  My  daughters,  whom  you  love  and  mourn, 
 Are  on  their  annual  visit  sped 
 
 To  gentler  climes, — but  soon  return. 
 
 "  That  ruffian,  Winter,  comes  to  spoil 
 Their  art,  by  sufferance  not  unwise  ; 
 
 They  freshen,  thus,  for  after  toil, 
 And  heighten  beauty  with  surprise. 
 
 "  Their  name,  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn ;  mine 
 Is  Nature  ;  well  thou  know'st  us,  youth  ; 
 
 The  Year  9s  the  picture  we  design  ; 
 
 Wake,  rise,  and  change  thy  dream  for  truth." 
 
96  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 APOSTROPHE  TO  NATURE. 
 
 Oh  Nature,  in  beauty,  in  grandeur  excelling ! 
 
 Whose  numberless  charms  are  eternally  new  ! 
 With  thee  could  I  fix  an  unchangeable  dwelling, 
 
 Thy  pleasures,  thy  wonders,  unwearied  pursue. 
 Forth  by  thee  was  I  sent,  here  awhile  to  adore  thee; 
 Thy  pilgrim  I  wander,  and  fondly  gaze  o'er  thee ; 
 Till,  beckon'd  by  thee  from  the  scenes  of  thy  glory, 
 
 I  sink  on  thy  breast  with  a  long,  last  adieu. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 WRITTEN  ON  MAY-MORNING. 
 
 Sweet  May,  at  whose  presence  dark  winter  recedes, 
 
 Who  clothest  with  beauty  the  desolate  year ; 
 Well  known  by  the  gales  that,  perfumed  from  the 
 meads, 
 
 Attend  on  thy  progress,  and  whisper  thee  near  ! 
 Oh,  lovely  as  ever  I  see  thee  arise, 
 
 While  wood-notes  resound  in  each  blossoming  tree ; 
 I  see  thee,  how  lovely  ;  but  feel  not  thy  joys  ; 
 
 For  the  May-time  of  childhood  revisits  not  me. 
 
 Time  was  that  I  welcomed  this  festival  morn 
 
 With  garlands  I  gather'd  the  hedge-rows  among; 
 And  still,  for  a  moment,  my  raptures  return 
 
 At  sight  of  yon  schoolboys,  a  holiday  throng  : 
 Yet,  over  the  leas  as  they  frolic  it  wild, 
 
 With  clusters  of  cowslips,  and  primroses  gay  ; 
 What  do  they  but  tell  me — "  I  too  was  a  child, 
 
 And  once  was  in  springtide  as  mirthful  as  they  ?" 
 
 ii 
 
98  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 
 
 "VATES  QUID  ORAT?"       Hor. 
 
 Ah,  quid  aeternum  juvat  incubare 
 Literis,  intra  celebrata  Musis 
 Claustra  cunctantem,  refugosque  votis 
 
 Prendere  honores 
 
 Irritis  ?     Quanto  satius,  remissis 
 Tristibus  curis,  procul  impotentum 
 Civium  insano  strepitu,  quietam 
 
 Ducere  vitam ! 
 
 Est  hoc  in  votis  :  tugurique  culmen 
 Cespite  instratum  viridante ;  fundus 
 Non  hero  mendax  ;  placidasque  laetus 
 
 Hortulus  umbrae. 
 
 Sint  lares  illic  nitidi ;  sit  uxor, 
 Prole  quae  pulchra  faciens  parentem, 
 Tres  mihi  donet  simili  puellas 
 
 Ore  decoras. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  99 
 
 Sarculo  glebas  rudis  ipse  versem 
 Cultor,  haud  parcus  tamen  insolensve : 
 Ipse  natarum  memores  amicis 
 
 Artibus  aures 
 
 Personem,  curis  inhians  paternis: 
 Dulce  ridentes,  medio  in  labore, 
 Virgines  noto  patris  ore  libent 
 
 Oscula  raptim. 
 
 Flebiles  quam  sint  hominum  tumultus 
 Spesque,  quam,  quidquid  cupimus,  caducum, 
 Solus  in  densis  nemorum  viretis 
 
 Mente  vol u tern  : 
 
 Quin  et  interdum,  invigilans  canoris 
 Artibus,  simplex  melos  elaborem ; 
 Quale,  (quod  curae  est,)  faciles  puellae 
 Mulceat  aures. 
 
 Inter  haec,  si  non  inopes  colonos 
 Visam,  et  infirmis  senibusque  parcam, 
 Natus  incassum  videar,  mihique 
 
 Commodus  uni  : 
 h  2 
 
100  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Saspe  vicinas  casulas  oberrem, 
 Soler  efflantes  animam,  vetemque 
 Veste,  sub  dio  trepidos,  carere 
 
 Ruris  alumnos. 
 
 His  mihi  in  curis  fugiant  beato 
 Lustra  quot  Parcae  voluere  :  tandem 
 Ne,  (velim,)  herbosum  careat  sepulchrum 
 Simplice  saxo : 
 
 Simplici  in  saxo  memor  ossa  signet 
 Fama,  nee  mendax ;  "  Jacet  hac  sub  ulnio 
 Integer  vitse,  metuens  deorum, 
 
 Gratus  amicis." 
 
 Coll.  Trin.  Cant. 
 Apr.  1809, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  101 
 
 HORACE,— Ode  vi.  Book  2. 
 "  Septimi,  Gades?  fyc. 
 
 Dearest  friend,  that  would'st  with  me 
 Visit  earth's  extremity ; 
 Where  the  savage,  yet  unbroke, 
 Dares  disdain  a  Roman  yoke ; 
 Where,  on  Libya's  treacherous  coast, 
 Vex'd  with  sand  the  surge  is  tost : 
 
 Tibur,  on  the'  Etrurian  shore 
 Colonised  by  Greeks  of  yore, 
 Be  the  refuge  of  my  age  ; — 
 Worn  with  restless  pilgrimage, 
 Sick  of  warfare  and  the  seas, 
 There  I'd  sit  me  down  in  ease. 
 
 This  should  wayward  Fate  refuse, 
 That  sweet  region  next  I'd  choose, 
 Where  so  thick  the  fleecy  charge 
 Beautify  Galesus'  marge  ; — 
 
102  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Let  me  haunt  the  cultured  plain 
 Where  Phalantus  wont  to  reign. 
 
 Not  a  nook  of  earthly  bliss 
 Wears  a  lovelier  smile  than  this : 
 Here  the  honied  hive  outvies 
 All  that  Attica  supplies, 
 Nor  Campania's  fairest  field 
 Choicer  olives  boasts  to  yield : 
 
 Early  dawns  the  vernal  year, 
 Late  declines  ;  and  Winter,  here, 
 Comes  unclouded  and  serene ; 
 Aulon,  on  his  sides  of  green 
 Nursing  many  a  generous  vine, 
 Scarce,  Falernum,  envies  thine. 
 
 Hither  meditate  thy  flight : 
 Such  a  seat  of  calm  delight 
 Long  expects  my  friend  and  me ; 
 Here,  when  Fate  disjoins  us,  he 
 Late  shall  drop  the  natural  tear 
 O'er  his  Poet's  recent  bier. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS,  103 
 
 HORACE,— Ode  xiv.  Book  2. 
 
 "  Eheu,Jugaces"  fyc. 
 
 Alas,  my  Posthumus,  alas, 
 
 Our  stealing  moments — how  they  pass  ! 
 
 Nor  piety,  nor  tears, 
 May  bribe  resistless  Death  away, 
 May  chase  the  wrinkles  of  decay, 
 
 Or  check  the  haste  of  years. 
 
 No,  dearest  friend ! — each  day,  each  hour, 
 To  Pluto's  unrelenting  power 
 
 Should  countless  victims  bleed, 
 Think  not  that  he,  whose  gloomy  streams 
 Encircle  Geryon's  monster  limbs, 
 
 Would  countless  victims  heed. 
 
 Those  gloomy  streams — the  king,  the  swain, 
 All  whom  the  stores  of  earth  sustain, 
 
104?  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 
 
 Or  soon  or  late  shall  try : 
 In  vain  we  shun  the  field  of  blood ; 
 In  vain,  hoarse  Adria's  billowy  flood, 
 
 And  Autumn's  feverish  sky. 
 
 All,  all,  must  see  Cocytus  flow, 
 With  dark  wave  languishingly  slow, 
 
 The  joyless  coast  around ; 
 Where  Sisyphus,  (by  stern  decree,) 
 And  Danaiis'  ill-famed  progeny, 
 
 To  lingering  toils  are  bound. 
 
 Then  all  adieu — the  sweets  of  life, 
 The  accustomed  villa,  soothing  wife, 
 
 And  garden  fondly  stor'd ; 
 Where,  (save  the  cypress'  hated  wreath,) 
 Oh  say  what  plant  shall  serve,  in  death, 
 
 The  transitory  lord  ? 
 
 Then  shall  a  worthier,  wiser  heir 
 Unhoard  the  casks  thy  frugal  care 
 
 To  guardian  cells  has  given ; 
 And,  draining  fast  those  mellow'd  stores, 
 Shall  purple  all  thy  gorgeous  floors 
 
 With  nectar  fit  for  heaven. 
 
ADDRESSES. 
 
 TO   A   YOUNG  LADY, 
 
 FOND  OF  WILD  SCENERY. 
 
 Sweet  girl,  that  all  a  summer's  day 
 Delight'st  to  rove  the  mountain  side ; 
 
 Pausing  the  landscape  to  survey, 
 How  ample,  how  diversified  ! 
 
 Delight'st,  like  tripping  fairy,  there 
 Each  crag  of  desperate  verge  to  tread, 
 
 And  drink  at  large  the  freshening  air, 
 
 And  downward  peep  with  pleasing  dread : 
 
 Oh  still,  sweet  girl,  thy  joys  pursue 
 Where  Nature  dwells  in  all  her  pride, 
 
 Nor  care  mid  cultured  scenes  to  view 
 The  little  charms  by  man  supplied : 
 
106  ADDRESSES. 
 
 Nor  care  the  crowded  walk  to  trace, 
 
 Where  Fashion  flaunts  in  freakish  dress ; 
 
 Blest,  could  she  lend  her  children  grace 
 Like  thy  bewitching  artlessness ! 
 
 Blest,  could  her  skill  on  them  bestow 
 The  beauty  thine  by  health  and  joy  ; 
 
 Pour  on  their  cheek  that  living  glow, 
 That  bright  expression  on  their  eye  ! 
 
 Such  were  the  scenes  as  those  of  thine, — 
 Scenes  that  exalted  bliss  impart, 
 
 Fresh  from  the5  Artificer  Divine, 
 
 And  unprofaned  by  meddling  Art ; — 
 
 Such  were  the  scenes  in  golden  hour 
 The  pair  primeval  joy'd  to  view ; 
 
 Such  were  the  scenes  ;  but  lost  their  power, 
 And  now  such  scenes  are  prized  by  few. 
 
 Now  the  trim  park  and  terrace  please, 
 And  murky  street,  the  mingling  train ; 
 
 Or,  if  they  peep  at  Nature,  these 
 
 With  heighten'd  zest  they  seek  again. 
 
ADDRESSES.  107 
 
 Yet  some  there  be,  tho'  thinly  placed, 
 
 Unknowing  midst  the  crowd  to  err, 
 Who  dare  with  undegenerate  taste 
 
 Nature's  wild  majesty  prefer. 
 
 Of  these,  that  'scape  the  general  eye, 
 
 Sweet  unambitious  maid,  art  thou  ; 
 Of  these  be  she  for  whom  I  sigh, 
 
 To  whom  I  breathe  the'  impassion'd  vow ! 
 
108  ADDRESSES. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER, 
 ON   HER   BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 How  oft,  obsequious  to  the  fair, 
 
 I  'ave  pour'd  the  birth-day  strain  ! 
 
 And  say,  to  youthful  poet's  ear 
 Could  Beauty  plead  in  vain  ? 
 
 But,  barren  now,  the  natal  day 
 No  custom'd  fruitage  yields ; 
 
 And  Fancy,  sickening,  turns  away, 
 And  points  to  fresher  fields: 
 
 Yet,  sister,  for  thy  winning  sake 
 Shall  Love  take  Fancy's  part, 
 
 And  music,  haply  sweeter,  make, — 
 The  music  of  the  heart. 
 
 Saidst  thou  thy  birth-morn  re-appears, 
 That  thus  thou  claim'st  a  song  ? 
 
ADDRESSES.  109 
 
 Alas,  the  stealthy-footed  years, 
 How  swift  they  glide  along ! 
 
 Seems  as  but  one  small  week  had  been 
 
 Since  we  together  play'd ; 
 Yet  then  thou  hadst  not  reach'd  a  teen, 
 
 A  little  rosy  maid  ; 
 
 Nor  then,  save  story-telling  chat 
 
 And  laugh-resounding  glee, 
 And  plums  and  playthings  and  all  that, 
 
 Had  aught  a  charm  for  thee. 
 
 But,  light  as  visions  that  disperse 
 
 At  breaking  of  the  day, 
 Those  fairy  pleasures  I  rehearse 
 
 Are  vanish'd  all  away : 
 
 The  scene  is  shifted,  and,  behind, 
 
 Far  other  views  appear  j 
 'Tis  now  the  seed-time  of  the  mind, 
 
 And  this  is  all  thy  care. 
 
 And  yet,  I  ween,  nor  aught  that  this, 
 Nor  aught  that  life  presents, 
 
130  ADDRESSES, 
 
 Shall  win  thee  to  forget  the  bliss 
 Of  playful  innocence : 
 
 And,  dear  Eliza,  trust  me  well, 
 As  Age  her  progress  plies, 
 
 More  fondly  shall  remembrance  dwell 
 On  childhood  and  its  joys. 
 
 Time  was  that  all  day  long  we  mix'd 
 
 In  frolic  simply  sweet ; 
 Now  many  a  mile  intrudes  betwixt, 
 
 And  less  and  less  we  meet. 
 
 And  when  I  see  how  friendships  pass, 
 
 Acquaintances  are  woo'd ; 
 How  upstart  favorites  oft  displace 
 
 The  partners  of  our  blood  ; 
 
 *<  Domestic  interviews,"  I  sigh, 
 
 "  Amidst  a  world  of  care, 
 Are  sunbeams  in  a  wintry  sky, — * 
 
 As  sweet,  and  ah,  as  rare." 
 
 *  "  A  sunbeam  in  a  winter  sky."—  Grongar  Hill 
 
ADDRESSES.  Ill 
 
 'Tis  piteous ;  but,  whene'er  we  part, 
 This  soothing  thought  be  thine, — 
 
 That  distance  cannot  change  the  heart, 
 And  thou  art  fix'd  in  mine. 
 
112  ADDRESSES* 
 
 TO  MISS  ******. 
 
 Oh  could  I  point  the  inward  eye 
 
 To  all  that  *s  virtuous,  all  that 's  blest ! 
 Oh  could  I  crown  the  prompted  sigh 
 
 With  all  that 's  happiest,  all  that  *s  best  !- 
 But  since,  fair  object  of  desire, 
 
 I  cannot  guide  or  grant  the  will ; 
 May  Heaven  thine  every  wish  inspire, 
 
 Thine  every  wish  may  Heaven  fulfil ! 
 
ADDRESSES,  113 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 In  charms,  in  opulence  to  shine, 
 
 Let  many  a  virgin  sue  : 
 'Tis  thine  to  boast  them,  but  'tis  thine 
 
 To  disregard  them  too : 
 Thy  wealth  but  lends  thee  power  to  bless, 
 
 As  bounteous  Heaven  design'd, 
 And  beauty  serves  thee  but  to'  express 
 
 The  graces  of  thy  mindr 
 
114  ADDRESSES. 
 
 THE  STUDENT  TO  HIS  SISTERS. 
 
 (FROM  COLLEGE.) 
 
 Dear  girls,  with  whom  so  many  a  day 
 
 I  'ave  cheated  heretofore 
 In  prattle,  song,  or  noisy  play ; 
 Receive  the  tributary  lay 
 
 Remembrance  bids  me  pour. 
 
 Ah  why  has  life  its  course  pursued 
 
 Beyond  the  verge  of  youth  ? 
 Why  must  I  feel  the  frolic  mood 
 Gradual  by  sobering  care  subdued, 
 Till  nought  but  memory  soothe  ? 
 
 For  Memory  soothes  my  sorrowing  breast ; 
 
 Ev'n  now  she  plies  the  spell 
 That  calls  up  scenes  too  fair  to  last, 
 And  hangs  with  pictures  of  the  past 
 
 My  solitary  cell. 
 
ADDRESSES.  1X3 
 
 'Tis  sweet ;  but  'tis  a  mournful  joy, 
 
 And  temper  d  with  regret : 
 "  Ye  days  of  innocence,''  I  sigh, 
 "  And  bliss,  but  fled  for  ever  !  why, 
 
 (Oh,  tell  me,)  fled  so  fleet  ?"— 
 
 Nor  less,  with  early  pleasures  lost, 
 
 Our  antient  friends  are  gone : 
 By  thickening  cares  are  some  engross'd, 
 And  some  at  envious  distance  toss'd ; 
 
 All  pilfer'd,  one  by  one. 
 
 For  you,  sweet  virgins,  fare  ye  well ! 
 
 I  leave  to  Heaven  the  rest : 
 Fond  hope,  in  sooth,  would  see  you  dweli, 
 Each  in  some  still  and  beauteous  dell, 
 
 With  love,  as  blessing,  bless'd. 
 
 Tho'  each  must  tread  a  separate  maze 
 
 From  other,  all  from  me ; 
 Yet  oft  we'll  meet  at  parlour  blaze, 
 And  stories  tell  of  parted  days, 
 
 Re  wakening  youthful  glee  : 
 i  2 
 
116  ADDRESSES. 
 
 And  tho*  no  more,  to  glad  our  sight, 
 
 The  parent  pair  be  given ; 
 We'll  antedate  with  dear  delight 
 The  day  that  bids  us  yet  unite, 
 "  A  family  in  heaven." 
 
ADDRESSES.  117 
 
 TO  CLARA. 
 
 Take,  lovely  girl,  this  artless  line, 
 
 Unworthy  thee,  I  know  ; 
 Yet  take  it, — all  thou  hast  of  mine, 
 
 Or  ever  mayst,  below  1 
 
 Where'er  thine  orphan  lot  be  cast, 
 May  Heaven's  parental  care 
 
 Shield  thee  from  chill  Misfortune's  blast, 
 And  make  thee  blest  as  fair : 
 
 Yet  let  not,  in  the  sunnier  sky, 
 Those  opening  virtues  fade, 
 
 Nor  be  that  sweet  simplicity 
 To  lying  smiles  betray'd  : 
 
 But  shouldst  thou  wander  with  Distress, 
 Heaven  make  thee  still  its  care, 
 
118  ADDRESSES. 
 
 And  arm  thy  natural  tenderness 
 With  fortitude  to  bear. 
 
 I  saw,  I  left  thee,- — piteous  lot ! — 
 And  never  more  may  see ; 
 
 Yet  oft,  I  ween,  the  secret  thought 
 Shall  fondly  turn  to  thee. 
 
 And  oh,  life's  billowy  voyage  pass'd, 
 Tho'  blown  to  distance  here, 
 
 May  Heaven  our  little  barks  at  last 
 To  one  blest  harbor  steer ! 
 
ADDRESSES. 
 
 119 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Sweet  flower,  by  Violence  hard-hearted 
 Doom'd  to  this  bitter  change ; 
 
 From  all  thy  friends,  thy  kindred,  parted 
 In  region  cold  and  strange ; 
 
 Oh,  who  can  look  on  thee,  nor  prove 
 
 How  '  Pity  melts  the  soul  to  Love  ! ' 
 
 Thou  might'st  have  beautifully  flourish'd 
 
 In  birthright's  genial  clime, 
 Where  sun  and  shower  and  shelter  nourish'd 
 
 And  bless'd  thine  opening  prime, 
 And  a  fair  sisterhood,  the  while, 
 Around  thy  fairer  self  would  smile. 
 
 Yet,  in  this  melancholy  station, 
 More  sweet  thy  beauty  shines, 
 
 As  with  pale  placid  resignation 
 That  languish'd  head  declines, 
 
120  ADDRESSES. 
 
 And,  gleaming  soften'd  thro'  thy  tears, 
 That  lonely  loveliness  appears. 
 
 Oh  might  some  kind  one  o'er  thee  hover 
 
 To  kiss  those  dews  away, 
 Thy  silken  leaves  from  rude  winds  cover, 
 
 And,  for  that  wan  decay, 
 Bid  thee  joy's  rosy  flush  resume, 
 Yea,  with  sweet  buds  and  flowerets  bloom ! 
 
ADDRESSES.  121 
 
 TO    AN   INVALID. 
 
 Oh  happy  mourner,  to  thy  lot 
 
 "What  bliss,  unseen,  is  given  ! — 
 While  Health  in  Pleasure's  primrose  way 
 Disports  it  thro'  life's  little  day  ; 
 Earth  and  her  vanities  forgot, 
 
 Thy  thoughts  are  all  in  heaven. 
 
 Bliss  might  the  roving  sons  of  Ease 
 In  mere  existence  feel ; 
 Yet  spare  they  not  with  mad  expense 
 Of  varied  sweets  to  soothe  the  sense : 
 Thou  sadly  sittest,  shut  from  these, 
 In  solitary  cell. 
 
 Yet  weep  not !  Bid  thy  soul  ascend 
 This  shadowy  scene  above : 
 
122  ADDRESSES. 
 
 Oh,  let  yon  trifiers  trifle  still, 
 Heedless  that  pleasure  lures  to  ill ; 
 
 Thy  fate  bespeaks  the  chastening  friend, 
 The  father's  frown  of  love. 
 
 Then  weep  not !  Heaven,  ere  Time  was  born, 
 Mark'd  out  thy  walk  below ; 
 And,  fain  from  siren  snares  to  save, 
 In  kindly  charge  thy  virtues  gave 
 
 To  Sickness,  nurse  more  sad  than  stern, 
 And  wedded  thee  to  woe. 
 
 In  sooth,  tho'  darkly  wove  appear 
 Thy  web  of  life,  'tis  gain ; 
 It  leaves  thee  vacant  to  be  wise  ; 
 Faith  prunes  her  pinions  for  the  skies ; 
 The  bliss  of  heaven's  immortal  year 
 Thou  winn'st  with  fleeting  pain. 
 
 And ?  lady,  thou,  his  dearer  part, 
 By  Heaven  assign'd  to  dwell 
 His  ministering  angel  here ; 
 Dim  not  those  bright  eyes  with  a  tear  ! 
 
ADDRESSES.  123 
 
 But  tell  the  fondly  fluttering  heart 
 That  all  shall  yet  be  well. 
 
 I  know  thy  days  o'ercast  with  gloom, 
 Thy  sorrow-faded  charms : 
 Ah  scene  far  other  this,  than  erst 
 Young  Hope  would  paint,  by  Fancy  nurs'd, 
 When,  smiling  in  thy  virgin  bloom, 
 Thou  mett'st  his  spousal  arms  ! 
 
 Yet  would  I  soothe  thee.     ^Yhile  thy  love 
 Its  mournful  tendance  plies  ; 
 View  not  the  form  so  wan  and  weak, 
 The  beamless  eye,  the  sunken  cheek, 
 But  view  the  heir  of  joys  above, 
 The  seraph  in  disguise. 
 
 Oh  lovely  proof,  how  seldom  seen, 
 Of  tenderness  sincere  ! 
 O'er  the  dear  sufferer  bending  still 
 Thy  silent  office  to  fulfil ; 
 
 Not  unobserved  of  Heaven,  I  ween, 
 Tho'  all  unblazon'd  here. 
 
124-  ADDRESSES. 
 
 TO  MISS  ****, 
 ON   HER  BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 The  pilgrim  oft,  at  fall  of  day, 
 On  some  prospective  brow 
 
 Bends  o'er  his  staff  to  re-survey 
 The  traveled  scene  below : 
 
 Here  joyless  moors  he  *d  fain  forget 
 He  views,  and  heaves  a  sigh ; 
 
 Here  cultured  vales,  that  move  regret, 
 Rise  beauteous  on  his  eye. 
 
 And  such  are  we,  in  pensive  mood, 
 Dear  Emma,  oft  I  'ave  deem'd; 
 
 Ourselves  the  pilgrims,  life  the  road, 
 The  heights  our  birth-days  seem'd. 
 
 To-day  thou  gain'st  another  hill, 
 Twice  seven  already  past ; 
 
ADDRESSES,  125 
 
 While  each,  the  landscape  opening  still, 
 Improved  upon  the  last. 
 
 Here  pause,  and  mark  the  backward  scene, 
 
 A  variegated  sight ; 
 Thy  walk  as  yet  how  soft  and  green, 
 
 Thy  little  prospect  bright. 
 
 In  springtide,  not  a  flowery  maze 
 
 But  drew  thy  fond  pursuit ; 
 Now  summer  sedulously  strays 
 
 In  quest  of  ripening  fruit. 
 
 Oh,  follow  still  where  Wisdom  leads ; 
 
 Nor  there  thy  steps  be  found 
 Where  she,  misnamed  of  Pleasure,  spreads 
 
 Her  venom' d  sweets  around ! 
 
 So  shall  thine  evening  path  be  smooth 
 
 Adown  the  slope  of  age  ; 
 So  shall  the  retrospect  of  youth 
 
 Thy  distant  eye  engage. 
 
126  ADDRESSES. 
 
 TO   MARIA, 
 
 ON  HER,  PRESENTING  HIM  WITH  A  ROSE  PAINTED  BY  HERSELF. 
 
 Far  from  kindred  spirits  parted, 
 
 Each  small  relic  of  their  love 
 How  it  soothes  the  tender-hearted, 
 
 Did  Maria  never  prove  ? 
 Oft  will  fond  imagination 
 
 O'er  the  prized  memento  bend, 
 Rapt  in  silent  conversation 
 
 With  the  visionary  friend. 
 
 Thus  Maria's  artless  semblance 
 
 Of  a  flower  her  beauties  shame, 
 Prompts  a  sadly-sweet  remembrance 
 
 Of  the  dear-one  whence  it  came. 
 Fare  she  well ! — But  oh,  for  ever, 
 
 Till  this  pictured  floweret  fade, 
 In  the*  impassion'd  bosom  never 
 
 Dies  thine  image,  loveliest  maid ! 
 
ADDRESSES.  127 
 
 TO  THE  SAME, 
 
 ON  HER  COMPLETING  THE  FIRST  YEAR  OF  HER  MARRIAGE. 
 
 Alas,  Maria,  what  is  life 
 
 But  vanity  and  woe  ? 
 While  hours  of  peace  and  years  of  strife 
 
 Are  all  we  have  below. 
 
 Yet  half  the'  assertion  I  resign, 
 
 As  musing  on  thy  lot : 
 For  what  of  wretchedness  is  thine, 
 
 And  what  of  bliss  is  not  i 
 
 Those  years,  how  light  they  frolic'd  by, 
 
 That  saw  the  tender  maid 
 Still  nurtured  near  her  parent's  eye, 
 
 Beneath  her  native  shade ! 
 
 Around  her  wanton'd,  hand  in  hand, 
 Young  Health  and  smiling  Glee, 
 
128  ADDRESSES. 
 
 And  all  the  rosy-featured  band 
 Of  blythe  Euphrosyne. 
 
 When  nineteen  springs  her  form  and  mind 
 In  all  their  charms  had  shown ; 
 
 Came  He  her  gentle  star  desigh'd, 
 And  mark'd  her  for  his  own. 
 
 Now  far  from  folly,  far  from  care, 
 With  love  and  stillness  blest, 
 
 Their  little  paradise  they  share, 
 Caressing  and  caress'd. 
 
 And  is  there  nought  beside  to*  implore, 
 
 Their  sum  of  joy  to  fill  ? 
 Yes,  since  the  first  sweet  year  is  o'er, 
 
 May  such  oft  bless  them  still ! 
 
ADDRESSES.  129 
 
 TO  THE  SAME, 
 
 WITH  SOME  CLOTHES  EOR  THE  POOR. 
 
 (supposed  to  be  written  by  the  ladies  who  prepared 
 and  sent  them.) 
 
 Yes,  go,  Maria,  by  the  tears 
 
 Of  Scarning's  favored  sons  pursued  ; 
 Display,  'midst  other  villagers, 
 
 "  The  luxury  of  doing  good." 
 
 And  take,  for  cottage  girls  design'd, 
 This  little  store  of  plain  attire  : 
 
 We  knew  thy  sympathetic  mind, 
 And  wish'd  to  fan  the  generous  fire. 
 
 Well  did  the  task  those  hours  beguile, 
 As  thus  with  sister  hands  we  wrought : 
 
 Maria  was  our  theme  the  while, 
 
 On  her  would  rest  the  tender  thought. 
 
 K 
 
130  ADDRESSES. 
 
 In  fancy's  eye  we  saw  her  speed 
 Our  errand  to  the  widow's  door, 
 
 Soothe  with  sweet  words  the  sick-man's  bed, 
 And  part — midst  blessings  of  the  poor. 
 
 Tho*  young,  tho'  graceful,  happiest  she 
 
 These  noiseless  duties  to  fulfil ; 
 In  unambitious  privacy 
 
 Still  blest,  as  blessing  others  still. 
 
ADDRESSES.  131 
 
 TO    CARA. 
 
 .absens  absentem  auditque  videtque." 
 
 VlRG. 
 
 I  see  thee  now,  with  soul-felt  gaze 
 Peruse  at  will  those  eyes  divine ; 
 
 And — oh  the  joy ! — their  dewy  rays 
 Mirror  the  tenderness  of  mine. 
 
 I  hear  thee ;  in  sweet  bondage  caught, 
 I  drink  that  mild  and  mellow  tone ; 
 
 And  still,  ere  utterance  ends,  thy  thought 
 Meets  a  soft  echo  in  my  own. 
 
 Nor  ear,  alone,  or  eye,  is  blest : 
 These  lips  inhale  the  nectar'd  kiss ; 
 
 I  strain  thee  to  this  burning  breast 
 In  speechless  agony  of  bliss. 
 
 k2 
 
132  ADDRESSES. 
 
 But  think !  when  many  an  envious  mile 
 Shall  'twixt  our  sever'd  forms  intrude  ; 
 
 And  eye,  and  ear,  and  lip,  the  while, 
 Miss  raptures  each  so  lately  wooed ; 
 
 How  Memory,  lingering  lone  and  last, 
 With  poisonous  art,  a  cruel  friend, 
 
 Will  turn  to  pain  the  blissful  past, 
 And  gall  amidst  our  honey  blend ! 
 
 Talk  I  of  pain  i  Oh  no !  such  pain 
 Is  all  the  pleasure  Absence  needs  ; 
 
 Tears  are  his  wine,  and  sighs,  (tho*  vain,) 
 The  very  feast  on  which  he  feeds. 
 
 Oft,  at  the  hour  to  thee  so  sweet, 
 The  twilight  hour  to  feeling  dear, 
 
 Our  sympathetic  souls  shall  meet 
 In  converse— such  as  spirits  hear: 
 
 Oft  shall  I  form  the  soft-eyed  maid 
 Her  arborous  alley  pacing  slow, 
 
 And  whispering,  midst  its  whispering  shade, 
 The  strain  her  graces  taught  to  flow. 
 
ADDRESSES.  1 33 
 
 Oh,  what  a  look  of  love  was  there  ! 
 
 And  sure  that  sigh  for  him  is  breath'd, 
 Who,  bending  o'er  the  treasur'd  hair 
 
 Her  parting  tenderness  bequeathed, 
 
 Sees  her,  perchance,  with  Fancy's  eye, 
 Ev'n  such  as  Fancy  here  hath  drawn ; 
 
 And  in  sweet  hopes  of  promised  joy 
 Sinks  harsh  regret  of  pleasures  gone. 
 
134?  ADDRESSES. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 The  boy  is  into  manhood  grown, 
 And  Time  with  woman's  lovely  zone 
 
 Hath  bound  the  virgin  waist ; 
 Since,  gentlest,  with  thyself  I  play'd, 
 Nor  knew  that  little  rosy  maid 
 Was  she,  by  Heaven  ordain'd  to  sway  my  soul  at  last. 
 
 Imagination's  prescient  eye 
 May  in  its  folded  germ  descry 
 
 The  rose's  full-blown  pride  : 
 Thoughtless  and  blind,  not  then  in  her 
 The  seeds  of  such  a  character, 
 Not  in  this  breast  the  sparks  of  such  a  flame,  I  spied. 
 
 For  less  she  dazzles  than  she  warms ; 
 Nor  hers  the  loud  and  garish  charms 
 That  flaunting  Fashion  wooes : 
 
ADDRESSES.  135 
 
 Of  noiseless,  unobtrusive  kind, 
 Best  for  domestic  shade  design'd, 
 The  graces  that  endear  this  maiden  to  the  Muse. 
 
 Deem  not  the  archer-boy  prefers 
 To  this  coy  artlessness  of  hers 
 
 The  prattling,  glancing  air : 
 Nought  in  the  flash  Elijah  found, 
 Nought  in  the  blast,  tho'  rock'd  the  ground  ; 
 The  still  small  voice  arrives,  and  lo,  the  God  is  there. 
 
 Nor  beauty  hers,  if  beauty  lies 
 
 In  dimpling  cheeks  and  arrowy  eyes ; 
 
 But,  if  you  judge  with  me 
 That  looks,  (on  which  is  mirror'd  seen 
 The  pure,  the  angel  soul  within,) 
 Outbeggar  beauty,  oh,  how  more  than  beauteous  she ! 
 
 Such  looks  first  caught  me.     Whatsoe'er 
 Of  sweet  there  is,  or  holy,  there 
 
 In  soft  confusion  shines : 
 Her  graceful  thoughts  in  turn  possess, 
 But  most  a  meek  mild  pensiveness, 
 Their  liquid  auburn  ray,  which,  while  it  thrills, 
 refines. 
 
136  ADDRESSES. 
 
 Oh,  might  I  mix  with  hers  my  soul, 
 By  their  unconscious  witchery  stole, 
 
 In  deep  enduring  love  ! 
 Might  see  my  every  smile  or  sigh 
 Reflected  in  her  sympathy ! 
 Might  share  whatever  cares  that  heavenly  spirit 
 move ! 
 
 Life's  perspective,  which,  opening  new, 
 Wore  young-eyed  Hope's  enamell'd  hue, 
 
 Now  joyless,  unendear'd, 
 And  hung  with  shadowing  clouds,  it  seems, 
 Save  when  in  Love's  delicious  dreams, 
 Hath,  hovering  at  my  side,  that  form  of  light  ap- 
 peared. 
 
 Some  fable  soul  to  soul  foredoom'd 
 Unchangeably;  and  Pave  presumed, 
 
 (Fool  to  my  wish !)  that  she, 
 Snatch'd  by  the  jealous  God  from  those 
 Who  dar'd  his  mystic  will  oppose, 
 Thro*  many  a  rival  snare,  escapes  to  him  and — me. 
 
ADDRESSES.  137 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 (WITH  THE  PRESENTS  MENTIONED.) 
 
 These  bracelets,  loveliest  maid,  be  thine, 
 Apt  emblems  of  the  mystic  bands 
 
 That  round  our  hearts  already  twine, 
 
 And  soon,  oh  heaven !  shall  knit  our  hands  : 
 
 This  veil,  those  angel  eyes  to  hide, 
 To  mark  thee,  like  the  cloister'd  nun, 
 
 Sever'd  from  all  the  world  beside, 
 And  sweetly  consecrate  to  one : 
 
 This  tippet,  for  what  bosom,  (say,) 
 
 But  that  of  Cara,  should  it  be  ? 
 Where  Beauty  blooms  and  Passions  play, 
 
 And  Love  reserves  his  heaven — for  me : 
 
 Or,  last,  this  signet,  whose  but  hers, 
 That  gave  my  soften'd  heart,  like  this, 
 
 The'  impression  she,  responsive,  bears, 
 
 And  seals — ev'n  now — with  Love's  own  kiss. 
 
138  ADDRESSES. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 (WITH  A  MANUSCRIPT  VOLUME  OF  ORIGINAL  POEMS.) 
 
 carmma  possumus 
 
 Donare,  et  pretium  dicere  muneri."      Hor. 
 
 Cara,  were  mine  the  gorgeous  East, 
 
 The  mountainous  Peru ; 
 More  than  Profusion  e'er  might  waste, 
 Or  Avarice  pursue ; 
 For  whom  should  all  my  treasures  be, 
 "  But  thee  alone,  but  only  thee  ?" 
 
 Vain  thought ! — Nor  mine  to  deal  an  Ind, 
 
 Nor,  were  it,  thine  to  take : 
 The  stores,  the  luxuries,  of  mind, 
 — This  offering  's  all  I  make ; 
 And  thou,  contented,  wilt  receive 
 The  fairest  gift  I  have  to  give. 
 
 Contented?  yes,  delighted !  since 
 Full  well  thou  know'st  that  this 
 
ADDRESSES.  139 
 
 Not  all  the  coffers  of  a  prince 
 
 Could  win  to  crown  his  bliss  : 
 While  hearts  of  every  grain  may  boast 
 Material  wealth,  the  meanest  most : 
 
 Its  beams,  (thou  seest,)  however  bright, 
 
 Soon  languish,  soon  are  gone  : 
 But  Mind  is  cloth'd  in  living  light, 
 "  Unborrow'd  of  the  sun," 
 That  glows  with  ever-deepening  ray, 
 Like  dayspring  whitening  into  day. 
 
 Calm  Reason,  with  light  Fancy  twined, 
 
 And  warm'd  with  Feeling's  fire, 
 Each  by  sweet  Piety  refined, 
 Can  never,  never  tire : 
 No  linked  weight  they  drag,  no  train 
 Of  cares  vexatious  all  and  vain. 
 
 This,  this  is  gold  without  alloy ; 
 
 But  that  which  fools  caress, 
 What  is  it  but  a  cumbrous  joy, 
 
 A  painted  wretchedness  ? 
 
140  ADDRESSES. 
 
 Its  lord  a  liveried  slave,  no  more ; 
 His  fetters  only  gilded  o'er; 
 
 Or  he  a  mansion,  fair  without, 
 
 Within  dark,  vacant,  cold : 
 The  cultured  breast  is  like  the  cot, 
 Undazzling  to  behold ; 
 But  inward  peep, — you  meet  whate'er 
 Of  blest  there  is,  or  beauteous,  there* 
 
 — 'Tis  thus  my  little  book  I  boast, 
 
 Which,  by  its  homely  air, 
 Might  seem,  and  by  its  humble  cost, 
 111  worth  my  favorite's  care  ; 
 Which,  yet,  I'll  trust,  those  pensive  eyes 
 May  teach  thee,  loveliest,  how  to  prize  : 
 
 To  prize,  when  every  page  so  clear 
 
 The  mirror'd  soul  presents, 
 That  not  the  stone,  the  canvass,  wear 
 More  lively  lineaments 
 Than  here,  in  heart-warm  verse  enshrined5 
 This  various  portraiture  of  mind  : 
 
ADDRESSES.  14:1 
 
 To  prize,  when,  like  thyself,  the-5  sweet, 
 
 It  courts  not  many  an  eye ; 
 For  thou,  too,  art  a  violet, 
 Form'd,  in  its  privacy, 
 To  charm  each  breast,  but,  (oh  the  bliss!) 
 To  bloom  and  breathe  on  none — but  this. 
 
142  ADDRESSES. 
 
 LEFT  ON  A  TABLE  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  SOME 
 FRIENDS,  AT  PARTING. 
 
 Farewell,  thou  delightful  recess, 
 
 Where  hearts,  knit  in  harmony,  dwell, 
 Where  Friendship  stands  ready  to  bless, — 
 
 Sweet  mansion  of  pleasures,  farewell ! 
 Embosom'd  in  foliage  and  green, 
 
 Sequester'd  from  concourse  and  noise, 
 How  regretful  I  part  from  the  scene 
 
 Of  thy  home-born  and  bosom-felt  joys ! 
 
 Farewell  to  those  windings  and  bowers 
 
 Of  the  garden  that  curtains  thee  round, 
 Where  Silence  would  cheat  the  lone  hours 
 
 With  poet-like  musings  profound  ! 
 Farewell  to  the  field  and  the  farm, 
 
 Where  Content  and  brown  Industry  dwell ; 
 Farewell  to  each  pastoral  charm ; 
 
 To  the  walks  of  the  shrubland,  farewell ! 
 
ADDRESSES.  14-3 
 
 Ye,  too,  the  kind  tenants !  ye  pair 
 
 That  press  the  cool  verge  of  decline ; 
 And  she,  in  whose  character  fair 
 
 Love,  prudence,  and  piety  shine ; 
 And  he,  of  the  time-silver'd  head, 
 
 And  the  pensive  complexion  of  soul  ;— 
 Oh,  her  goodness  by  Heaven's  be  repaid, 
 
 And  Heaven  his  depression  control ! 
 
 And  ye,  rosy,  frolicsome  boys, 
 
 And  ye,  cherub  sisterhood  dear, 
 (As  in  lovely  gradation  you  rise, 
 
 All  beautiful,  fond,  and  sincere;) 
 Adieu,  ye  soft  spirits,  adieu ! 
 
 But  oh, — 'tis  the  voice  of  the  heart, — 
 From  Memory's  tenderest  view 
 
 Shall  your  images  never  depart. 
 
 Bedford,  Dec.  1807. 
 
144 
 
 FANCY  AND  REASON: 
 
 A  VISION. 
 
 "  If  but  a  beam  of  sober  Reason  play, 
 Lo,  Fancy's  fairy  frostwork  melts  away." 
 
 Rogers. 
 
 When  young-eyed  April  hangs  with  thickening  gems 
 The  woodlands,  and  retunes  the  unpractised  throats 
 Of  woodland  warblers  ;  humid  freshness  fills 
 The  sunny  heaven,  one  soft  and  stainless  blue  ; 
 And  breath  is  balm,  and  mere  existence,  bliss  ; 
 And  Love  and  Beauty,  all :  in  that  sweet  month, 
 Tired  with  my  daybreak  stroll,  I  laid  me  down, 
 (The  sun  still  hovering  large  and  low,)  beneath 
 A  thorn,  with  blossoms  powder'd,  as  with  snow, 
 I  laid  me  down :  and,  whether  natural  sleep 
 Crept  o'er  me  ;  or  the  mind  in  dreamy  mood, 
 "  Half  to  realities  awake,"  reposed, 
 Blending  her  wild  and  wayward  fantasies 
 With  visible  forms ;  I  may  not  well  declare* 
 
FANCY   AND    REASON.  145 
 
 The'accustom'd  scene  remain'd;  butlo,  two  nymphs 
 
 Gleam  gradual  on  my  sense  or  on  my  soul ; 
 
 Dim,  first,  in  distance,  (where  the  grove,- scarce 
 
 tinged, 
 Shows  like  a  greenish  mist,)  and  indistinct 
 Of  lineaments  or  shape ;  then  floating  light, 
 As  'twere  to  minstrelsy  by  me  unheard, 
 O'er  the  smooth  meadow;  now,  in  near  approach, 
 Before  me  full  display'd.     Each  beautiful ; 
 But  differing  each  in  beauty.     One  of  mien 
 Demure,  sedate,  majestic,  matronly, 
 In  simplest  garb  attired  ;  serious  her  gaze 
 And  fix'd,  yet  keen  and  luminous ;  her  brow 
 Character'd  with  a  fair  severity. 
 The  other  looked  a  virgin,  young  and  sweet 
 And  full  of  graceful  sprightliness ;  her  air 
 AH  ardent,  all  impassion'd,  and  her  eye 
 "  Glancing  from  earth  to  heaven,  from  heaven  to 
 
 earth, 
 In  a  fine  frenzy :"  thought  and  feeling,  high 
 And  changeful,  shift  athwart  that  eloquent  face, 
 Like  shadows  flitting  o'er  the  mountain  side, 
 When  heaven's  blue  ocean,  on  a  summer's  noon, 
 Is  islanded  with  Alps  of  silvery  cloud. 
 
146  FANCY   AND   REASON. 
 
 Wings,  too,  she  wore,  feathering  her  brow  and 
 
 heel, 
 As  he  of  Ma'ia  born ;  and  wore  a  stole 
 More  vivid  and  more  various  than  the  bow 
 Ethereal,  wove  of  Iris,  where  she  blends 
 In  gay  confusion  purple,  green,  and  gold. 
 And  now,  by  downcast  looks  of  deepest  muse, 
 She  seems  conversing  with  the  ground  she  treads ; 
 Anon,  as  rapt  aloft  in  rushing  fit 
 Of  inspiration,  with  the  viewless  air 
 She  seems  to  talk,  o'er  its  blank  vacancy 
 Rolling  her  objectless,  abstracted  glance. 
 Nor  silent  long  she  stood  ;  but,  marking  how 
 Those  flashier  charms  had  caught  my  young  regard 
 More  than  her  soberer  sister's,  straight  she  woo'd 
 The  tranced  ear  with  winning  words  like  these. 
 
 "  My  name,  sweet  youth,  is  Fancy :  where  I  dwell, 
 Vain  were  thy  search :  eternal  vagrancy 
 My  nature  loves,  and  fixed  seat  hath  none. 
 Aereal  now,  I  ride  the  rainbow's  arch, 
 Sail  upon  clouds,  and  touch  at  every  star 
 That  specks  the  dark-blue  heaven,  what  time  the 
 
 Moon, 
 (To  sleep  apart  with  her  Endymion,)  cheats 
 
FANCY   AND    REASON.  147 
 
 The  mourning  Night.     Earthward  I,  now,  descend, 
 There  to  revisit  my  selected  sons, 
 Their  lips  with  manna  to  retouch,  their  eyes 
 With  unction,  with  immortal  sounds  their  ears, 
 And  fire  and  fill  and  sublimate  their  souls. 
 Thee  to  this  blessed  band  I  fain  would  add, 
 And  greet  thee  with  the  honorable  name 
 Of  Fancy's  child  :  for  well  I  know  thee  given 
 To  lonely  wandering  at  the  placid  hour 
 Of  dawn  or  sunset,  leaving  far  behind 
 The  city  smoke  and  stir,  and  seeking  scenes 
 By  Fancy  loved  and  all  to  Fancy  dear. 
 Oh  cherish  still  such  haunts,  and  oft  will  I 
 Meet  thee  among  them :  give  me  but  thy  heart, 
 And  be  my  son,  and  live  in  bliss  with  me. 
 Then  will  I  waft  thee  oft  to  green  retreats 
 Of  pleasant  groves,  where  Spring  for  ever  blooms, 
 For  ever  breathes  and  warbles  ;  where  the  light 
 Not  broad  and  obvious  falls,  as  here,  but  soft 
 As  shadowy  moonshine.     Midst  Elysian  vales 
 Then  shalt  thou  sweetly  waste  the  stealing  day  ; 
 Now,  in  delicious  languor,  thrown  beneath 
 Some  thick-wovenbower,  with  watery  murmurs  lull'd, 
 And  cool'd  with  gales  of  violet,  there  to  spell 
 
 l2 
 
148  FANCY   AND    REASON. 
 
 Whatever  in  happier  vein  my  sons  have  writ, 
 
 Or  rich  Romance  or  richer  Poesy ; 
 
 Now,  along  greenwood  alleys  loitering,  midst 
 
 A  trance  of  thought  and  feeling,  such  as  glides 
 
 All  undefined  thro'  the  quiescent  soul, 
 
 Or  such  as,  bursting  into  passionate  song, 
 
 Body  assumes  and  form.     Nor  quite  alone, 
 
 (Unliving  solitude  might  mar  thy  joys,) 
 
 While  nightingales,  in  liquid  thrills  of  sound, 
 
 From  answering  brakes  converse,  while  on  thy  gaze 
 
 Thro'  yellow  moon-mist  elves  and  spirits  gleam, 
 
 While  to  their  sweet  caress  two  cherub  forms 
 
 Invite  thee,  Hope  and  Love  ;  heaven-eyed  the  first, 
 
 And  skilPd  to  ravish  with  her  vision'd  scenes, 
 
 Outbeggaring  rude  reality;  the  last 
 
 With  tingling  glow  shall  all  thy  frame  suffuse, 
 
 Still  hovering  o'er  possession  fix'd  and  full, 
 
 Possessing  never,  flitting  still  from  charms 
 
 To  charms,  and  manacled  at  last  by  none. 
 
 Oft  thro'  those  wisard  glens,  where  Horror,  twinn'd 
 
 With  Beauty,  dwells  beside  some  mirror  lake, 
 
 I  '11  lead  thy  gazing  wonder  ;  scenes  like  that 
 
 Where  he,  my  favorite  of  coeval  bards, 
 
 Sits  weaving  many  a  fiction  bold  and  bright, 
 
FANCY    AND    REASON.  14-9 
 
 Such  as,  (howe'er  his  envying  foes  may  deem,) 
 Lives  in  time's  choicest  hoards,  from  mellowing  years 
 Winning,  like  well-wrought  tints,  new  grace,  new 
 
 fame. 
 Oft  by  the  deep,  (at  once  to  eye,  ear,  scent, 
 Grateful ; — sonorous,  odorous,  grand,  and  fair,) 
 We  '11  rove,  on  tenderest  or  sublimest  thought 
 Silently  feeding,  lapt  in  bliss,  afar 
 From  Reason,  yon  austere  and  frigid  maid, 
 Who  fain  would  mock  our  life,  and  fain  forbid 
 Thy  sharing  :  heed  not  thou  her  dull  decrees ; 
 And,  (well  I  ween,)  thou  wilt  not  heed.    But  come, 
 Our  Paradise  expects  thee,  haste  away!" 
 
 Young  as  I  was,  (nor  yet  the  deepened  voice, 
 Or  darken'dlip,  gave  sign  of  dawning  man) 
 To  speech  like  this,  with  siren  music  hung, 
 I  could  not  choose  but  yield.     Reason  the  while, 
 WTio  long  had  watch'd  for  utterance,  and  beheld 
 Herself  now  slighted,  with  a  sigh  retired, 
 Tho'  sorrowful,  not  stern,  and  casting  back 
 A  smile,  but  more  of  pity  than  disdain, 
 "  A  mild,  reproachful,  melancholy"  smile. 
 Yet  in  that  air  so  plaintive,  goddess-like 
 She  mix'd  a  noble  consciousness  of  worth, 
 
150  FANCY   AND    REASON. 
 
 A  fine  calm  pride,  that  shamed  my  soul,  nor  spared 
 Fancy  herself.     But  Fancy,  here  intent 
 Her  votary  to  secure,  or  bore  me  off 
 Entranced,  or  magically  changed  the  scene. 
 'Twas  wildness  all,  and  loveliness,  around  ; 
 Awhile  with  rapture  thrillingly  elate, 
 Awhile  in  soft-eyed  pensiveness  I  sunk 
 And  mournful  bliss :  and  Hope  was  there,  and  Love ; 
 And  still  I  gaz'd  and  felt,  I  dream'd  and  sung. 
 For  Fancy,  tho'  capricious,  sometimes  kind, 
 And  sometimes  coy  or  peevish,  yet  so  sweet 
 Her  kindness,  that  it  quite  absolved  each  mood, 
 Peevish  or  coy,  which  but  endear'd  it  more. 
 Thus  on  I  lived :  yet  oft  the  parting  form 
 Of  Reason  met  my*  abstracted  vision  ;  oft 
 That  "  mild  reproachful  melancholy "  smile 
 Ached  at  my  heart :  and  once,  as  thus  I  mused, 
 ('Twas  one  grave  shady  noon,)  my  spirit  burned 
 Within  me,  tears  hung  trembling  'twixt  my  lids, 
 And  feeling  burst  aloud :  "  Oh  Reason,  why 
 Thy  gracious  visitation  did  I  slight  ? 
 Why  bid  thee,  all  unheard,  adieu  ?     Yet  thou 
 How  reverend  of  demeanor,  how  divine ! 
 Tho'  less,  than  Fancy,  gorgeous  in  attire, 
 
FANCY    AND    REASON.  151 
 
 And,  in  address,  more  solemn  and  severe. 
 Thee,  such,  how  profitably  had  I  known  ! 
 Thy  sanctity  and  sapience  tempering  well 
 Those  airy  graces  of  our  queen,  which  snared 
 >Iy  too  too  cheap  and  undeliberate  choice ; 
 But  which  so  sage  a  contrast  had  illumed, 
 Ev'n  as  yon  darksome  heights  of  wood-clad  rock 
 The  smooth  bright  vale  below.     Nor  may  I  tell 
 What  sweets  thy  cup  had  offer'd  to  my  taste, 
 What  healthier  sweets.  But  vain  the  sigh!  that  hour 
 Is  gone :  I  might  have  known  thee,   ne'er  shall 
 know." 
 Scarce  had  I  paused,  methought  a  dazzling  shine 
 Broke  o'er  me  ;  such  as,  but  of  kindlier  glare, 
 Such  as,  in  autumn's  hot  and  vapoury  sky, 
 Disparts  the  huge  black  thunder-cloud :  and  lo, 
 Leaning  as  'twere  from  forth  a  gleamy  chasm, 
 Stood  Reason.     Oh  how  beautiful  the  smile 
 That,  like  a  sunbeam,  lay  upon  her  cheek ! 
 Not  melancholy,  not  reproachful,  now, 
 But  writ,  writ  legibly,  by  Love,  and  tinged 
 With  meek  forgiveness :  all,  beside,  as  erst ; 
 The  matron  majesty,  the  russet  robe ; 
 Yet,  to  my  purged  and  disenchanted  eye, 
 
152  FANCY    AND    REASON. 
 
 Far  lovelier  all  than  when  that  eye  was  film'd 
 With  Fancy's  "  blear  illusions."     I,  meantime, 
 With  such  a  turbulence  of  feelings  whelm'd, 
 (Wonder,  and  love,  and  joy,  and  sorrow,  'and  awe,) 
 Fell  prone :  she  gently  rear'd  me ;  then,  with  tones 
 Attuned  by  sweet  composure,  thus  began. 
 
 "  My  child,  my  much-loved  much-lamented  child, 
 How  pleased,  I  saw  thee  feed  with  deepening  sighs 
 Remorseful  memory  of  my  slighted  grace  ! . 
 How  pleased,  embrace  thee  now,  and  bring  delights 
 Various  and  high,  tho'  new  to  thee  and  strange  ! 
 For  all  around,  above,  and  all  within, 
 I  '11  teach  thee ;  not,  belike,  as  Fancy  here 
 In  moonshine  groves  and  fairy  solitudes ; 
 But  in  plain  useful  daylight,  oft  amidst 
 The.  busier  walks  of  man,  where  all  is  truth, 
 All  substance,  and  where  Fancy  shrinks  and  droops. 
 Two  goodliest  nymphs  shall  bear  thee  company, 
 My  daughters,  prompt  thy  cares  and  bless  thy  hourss 
 Wisdom  and  Science  :  that  more  social ;  this 
 More  won  by  quiet  privacy ;  the  first 
 In  action  and  experience  mingling  oft, 
 The  last  in  calm  abstractions  deep  bemazed : 
 One  pries  assiduous  into  prattling  books2 
 
FANCY    AND    REASON.  153 
 
 One  into  Life  and  Self. — Science  unrolls 
 The  page  of  Time,  of  Nature,  or  of  Art ; 
 Of  Art,  and  all  the'  inventions  multiform 
 For  ends  as  various,  use  or  pleasure,  sought 
 By  human  wit ;  of  Time,  and  all  that  fills 
 Thy  vast  and  populous  and  eventful  field, 
 O  History,  girt  with  nations,  heroes,  kings ; 
 Of  Nature,  whether  glowing  in  yon  heavens, 
 Where  pale  Astronomy  her  eye  sublime 
 Darts  o'er  a  wilderness  of  suns  ;  or  spread 
 Here  where  Geography  delighted  scans 
 This  many-featured  globe ;  her  broad  eye  now 
 Takes  in  at  once  the  measureless  continent, 
 With  all  its  realms,  its  tribes,  and  all  its  wealth 
 Of  mountain,  lake  or  stream,  nor  less  each  isle 
 That  springs  and  blooms  amid  the  desert  deep ; 
 Anon  she  stoops — beast,  bird,  fish,  insect,  plant, 
 Metal,  or  stone,  to'  explore,  yea  whatsoe'er 
 Of  mix'd  and  lurking  quality  in  aught 
 The  keen  insatiate  alchemist  detects. 
 For  Wisdom,  oft  she  '11  interrupt  these  toils 
 Of  Science,  witching  toils ;  and  oft  call  home 
 The'  excursive  mind  to  this  her  favorite  strain; 
 That  cares,  domestic  and  diurnal,  cares 
 
154  FANCY    AND    REASON. 
 
 If  plain,  yet  profitable',  and  such  as  come 
 
 Home  to  man's  bosom  and  life's  business ;  these, 
 
 Not  the  pursuits  of  Science,  oft  obscure, 
 
 And  useless,  and  impertinent  to  life, 
 
 (Shadowy  pursuits!)  are  man's  chief  part,  chief 
 
 praise. 
 Thus  Wisdom  loves  to  whisper ;  thus  thy  mind 
 To  fix  on  household  duties,  on  the  modes 
 And  tastes  of  social  life ;  to  train  thee,  thus, 
 In  every  brisk  occasion  how  to  judge, 
 How  practise ;  and  the  varying  conduct  square 
 Discreetly  to  the  varying  circumstance  ; 
 Calm,  circumspect,  considerate ;  yet,  withal, 
 Dispatchful,  spirited,  adroit  to  catch 
 The  bright  brief  smile  of  Opportunity. 
 She  '11,  also,  make  the  dim  partitions  clear 
 Of  Truth  and  Error,  Vice  and  Virtue ;  where 
 Darkness  and  light  commingling  meet,  or  where 
 Sage  medium  neighbors  on  some  sly  excess. 
 She  '11  bid  thee,  last,  look  inward,  know  thyself, 
 Urge  or  attemper  all  thy  passions,  fear 
 Or  anger,  shame  or  sadness  or  desire ; 
 And  fresh  and  fair,  with  all  their  garniture, 
 Preserve  the  mystic  chambers  of  thy  soul, 
 
FANCY    AND    REASON.  155 
 
 Where,  queen-like,  Piety  shall  sit,  and  cast, 
 Around  her,  sunshine  and  serenity. 
 Nor  think,  because  I  call  thee  from  these  bowers 
 To  daylight,  I,  with  churlish  apathy 
 And  solemn  dulness,  all  communion  loathe 
 Of  Fancy  and  her  sons  ;  her  sons  and  she 
 Have  oft  been  friends  of  mine ;  her  Milton  oft 
 Walk'd  with  myself  and  Science  ;  yea  her  own, 
 Her  darling  Shakspeare  won  from  Wisdom's  eye 
 Smiling  regards.     Xor  less  meantime,  with  her 
 My  sons  hold  dalliance ;  Johnson  such,  and  Burke, 
 And  Taylor,  with  his  full,  bright,  vehement  flow 
 Of  eloquence,  embathing  many  a  field 
 Where  in  her  stateliest  pall  Religion  treads. 
 Thou,  therefore,  slight  not  Fancy,  loved  so  long, 
 But,  next  ourselves,  revere !     Her  elegant  ease 
 Shall  yield  our  stricter  lore  refreshment  sweet : 
 Visit  her  oft,  but  only  visit,  still 
 Remembering  ours  thy  home  ;  thy  playmate  her, 
 Me  thy  preceptress,  deeming.     Chief,  when  there 
 Loitering,  the  wiles  beware  of  Hope  and  Love  ! 
 In  place  of  Hope,  that  temptress  angel,  now 
 Let  Memory  win  thy  soul ;  a  maid,  of  charms 
 Less  garish,  richer  far  of  honest  worth, 
 
156  FANCY    AND    REASON. 
 
 Portress  of  Science.     Love,  a  girl  unstaid 
 And  skittish,  erst,  and  gradually  debased 
 Into  mere  animal  passion ;  her  to'  expel, 
 ( Rather  supply, )  shall  Hymen  chuse  thee  one 
 No  frail  and  feverish  ardor  form'd  to*  inspire, 
 But  influence  warm  yet  constant,  sweet  yet  pure. 
 — These  are  my  joys,  oh  youth,  unfabled  all ; 
 These  would'st  thou  share,  forthwith  awake,  arise, 
 And  turn  thy  vision  to  reality  !" 
 
 She  ceased.     Awhile  with  half-closed  eyes  I  lay, 
 In  whose  dim  orbs,  with  dream^born  scenery  mix'd, 
 Floated  the  green  realities  around ; 
 And  on  my'  half-conscious  ear,  betwixt  the  notes 
 Of  neighboring  hedge-birds,  vibrated,  (how  sweet!) 
 Reason's  ethereal  tones.     Awhile  I  lay, 
 Intensely  gazing  on  the  azure  heaven, 
 Pondering  my  vision  pleasantly,  and  loth 
 To  change  these  lovely  portraitures  of  sleep 
 For  "sober  certainties"  of  waking  sense. 
 But  see,  the  sun,  now  noonward  climbing,  sheds 
 Contracted  shadows :  where  the  dews,  that  late 
 So  delicately  diamonded  each  web 
 Hung  by  the  wisard  spider  o'er  the  trees, 
 And  o'er  the  turf,  swarming  with  insect  life  ? 
 
FANCY    AND    REASON.  157 
 
 The  dews  are  vanish'd,  and  the  dew-bright  webs 
 Twinkle  no  more :  no  more  the  wonders,  wove 
 By  Fancy,  dance  and  glitter  on  my  gaze ; 
 Her  daybreak  scenes  fare  like  the  daybreak  dews ; 
 These  fly  the  sun's  bright  presence,  those  the'  ap- 
 proach 
 Of  Reason,  light  of  life.    The'  enthusiast  glow 
 Subsides ;  cool  workday  feelings  o'er  me  steal. 
 Here  shall  I  lie,  thus  languid,  all  day  long, 
 Still  Fancy's  fool,  her  captive  still  ?  nor  heed 
 Thy  charge,  O  Reason,  nor  thy  cares  pursue  ? 
 No  ;  let  me  homeward  haste,  and,  ere  it  fades, 
 This  heaven-taught  dream  embody,  first  in  song, 
 Then  in  the  nobler  harmony  of  life, 
 Life  such  as  Fancy  sweetens,  Reason  sways. 
 
158 
 
 ESSAY 
 
 ON  THE  FORMATION  OF  GENIUS, 
 
 AS   EXEMPLIFIED 
 
 IN  THE  POETICAL  CHARACTER. 
 
 "  The  three  foundations  of  Genius :  the  gift  of  God,  man's 
 sxertion,  and  the  events  of  life."—  Welch  Triads. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 If  we  enquire  whether  Genius,  determined  in  its  degree  by 
 Nature,  is  determined  in  its  direction  by  Nature  or  by  Acci- 
 dent ;  we  discover  several  probabilities  on  the  side  of  the 
 latter.  *  The  case  of  Newton,  the  diversities  of  Genius  in  the 
 same  family,  the  indecision  of  youth  in  selecting  its  objects  of 
 pursuit,  may  be  regarded  as  indications  of  Chance :  nor  can 
 Chance  itself,  in  certain  extraordinary  minds,  narrow  or  dis- 
 guise the  natural  grandeur  and  versatility  of  Genius :  and  why 
 should  there  not  be  in  man  as  well  an  intellectual  free  agency 
 as  a  moral? 
 
 *  "  The  true  Genius  is  a  mind  of  large  general  powers,  accidentally 
 determined  to  some  particular  direction."— J©  etn  son,  Lift  of  Cowley  * 
 
ESSAY  ON  THE  FORMATION  OF  GENIUS.       159 
 
 The  Poet,  then,  is  formed  by  Accident,  "  sometimes  re- 
 membered and  sometimes  forgotten."*  Thus  formed,  he  as- 
 sists the  accidental  bias  by  various  habits,  the  illustration  of 
 which  composes  the  main  scope  and  body  of  this  Essay.  His 
 childhood  is  nourished  by  the  perusal  of  ballads,  tales,  ro- 
 mances; his  youth  by  that  of  poetry:  and,  since  too  much 
 attention  to  the  thoughts  of  others  rather  encumbers  than 
 enriches  our  own,  with  his  reading-  he  mingles  composition,  in 
 which  he  is  guided,  not  by  imitation  of  his  predecessors,  but 
 by  feelings  of  his  own ;  his  early  productions  being  such  as 
 might  be  expected,  such  as  his  ripening  judgment  destroys. 
 
 Though  Poetry  is  his  primary  pursuit,  and  though  he  avoids 
 the  sterilising  influence  of  severer  Philosophy,  he  gives  the 
 leavings  of  his  attention  to  the  congenial  and  auxiliary  studies 
 of  History  and  Travel,  Music  and  Painting:  and,  because 
 local  situation  displays  a  powerful  agency  on  character,  he 
 familiarises  his  eye  with  all  that  is  poetical  in  scenery.  To 
 consummate  his  advantages,  he  shares  the  society  of  minds 
 either  the  most  accomplished  or  ftie  most  uncultivated ;  not 
 negligent,  however,  in  the  preservation  of  his  virtue,  amidst 
 this  ardor  in  the  advancement  of  his  genius ;  and,  finally,  pro^ 
 duces  a  work  in  which  Nature  and  Art  concenter  all  their 
 felicities. 
 
 "  Inventore  minor,  fungar  vice  cotis,  acutum 
 Reddere  quae  ferrum  valet,  exsors  ipsa  secandi." 
 
 Hor> 
 
 •  Johnson-, 
 
160  ESSAY    ON    THE 
 
 ESSAY. 
 
 What  art  thou,  Genius?  thou,  whose  breath  inspires? 
 August  atchievements  and  sublime  desires  ; 
 Who,  without  art  or  toil,  delight'st  to  teach 
 What,  without  thee,  nor  toil  nor  art  could  reach ; 
 Who  still  hast  form'd,  to  memorise  their  age, 
 Warrior  or  painter,  harmonist  or  sage, 
 Or  bright-eyed  bard.   What  art  thou  ?  whence  the 
 
 blaze 
 Of  godlike  glory,  that  around  thee  plays  ? 
 
 The  few,  whom  thy  proud  signature  may  fit, 
 Whose  births  were  eras  in  the  world  of  wit, 
 Who  cloth'd  with  light  a  science  erst  obscure, 
 Or  push'd  a  new-born  art  to  amplitude  mature, — 
 Fresh  from  the  God  that  inspiration  caught, 
 That  rush  of  blood,  that  opulence  of  thought. 
 But  whether  born  with  all-capacious  mind, 
 By  Chance,  not  Nature,  to  one  sphere  confined ; 
 Or,  by  a  narrower  bent,  a  genial  vein, 
 Destined  the  height  of  that  one  sphere  to  gain ; 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  161 
 
 Each  may  dispute,  but  none  decide, — may  tell 
 Their  actual  fates,  but  not  their  possible. 
 
 Of  these  two  schemes,  on  popular  assent 
 The  last  reclines,  the  first  on  argument. 
 
 Mind's  rude  materials,  (as  the  sager  holds,) 
 Nature  apportions ;  Chance,  her  artist,  moulds, 
 And  general  powers  in  partial  shapes  unfolds. 
 But  oft,  this  Chance,  that  modifies  the  man, 
 'Tis  not  for  us,  nor  ev'n  himself,  to  scan  ; 
 This  plastic  Chance,  that,  while  our  choice  it  guides, 
 Thy  first-born  pliancy,  O  Genius,  hides. 
 
 Young  Newton,  like  young  Hercules  of  yore,* 
 Sate  in  his  might  beneath  an  orchard  bower : 
 Still  was  he  left  his  own ;  and  every  Art, 
 And  every  Science,  wooed  his  ductile  heart ; 
 Nature  prevaiPd  ;  she,  like  Hippomenes, 
 Let  fall  an  apple,  and  with  like  success  ; 
 The  fruit  of  knowledge  lured  him  ;  like  a  God 
 He  rose,  and  hand  in  hand  with  Nature  trod. 
 Else  had  yon  heavens  revolved  in  twofold  night ; 
 Ne'er  had  their  suns,  their  beauteous  laws  of  light, 
 
 *  Xenophon.  Memorab.  lib.  2.  cap.  1.  sect.  21,  et  seq. 
 
 M 
 
162  ESSAY   ON   THE 
 
 Shot  wonder  on  the  brute  contracted  soul, 
 Nor  gravitation  harmonised  the  whole : 
 Else  had  the  priest  of  Nature  haply  shone 
 Priest  of  the  Nine,  and  all  Parnassus  won  ; 
 In  Newton's  breast  a  Milton's  fire  had  burn'd ; 
 Fiction  had  once  more  triumph'd,  Science  mourn'd. 
 
 What  broad  diversities  of  Mind  I  see, 
 Where  most  unlook'd-for,  in  one  family  I 
 How  varies  Genius  in  congenial  blood ! 
 How  stranger  Arts  divide  a  brotherhood ! 
 The  chemist  hails  his  kinsman  in  the  bard, 
 And  Lockes  and  Knellers  the  same  sire  have  shared : 
 Whimsies  of  Chance,  the  wisard,  winding  still 
 The  stream  of  Nature  at  his  random  will. 
 
 Thus  Wye  and  Severn  own  the  kindred  fount 
 Where  swells  Plynlimmon,  drear  irriguous  mount ; 
 But  wandering  wide,  what  differing  scenes  disclose.1 
 Plain  in  her  dignity,  Sabrina  flows, 
 Like  some  grave  matron ;  like  some  buxom  bride, 
 Delicious  Vaga  leads  her  mazy  tide 
 Thro'  vales  how  beauteous,  how  diversified ! 
 Till  the  twin  floods,  their  long  meanders  run, 
 Both  end  at  once,  as  both  at  once  begun. 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  163 
 
 Had  Nature  in  the  new-born  man  designed, 
 As  of  his  face,  the  features  of  his  mind ; 
 Why  fail  we,  thus,  beneath  one  roof  to  trace 
 Equal  similitude  of  mind  and  face  ? 
 
 Choice  may  in  some  the  work  of  Chance  fulfil, 
 So  far  from  all  is  destiny  of  will ; 
 Nor  seldom,  when  Life's  opening  map  he  views, 
 Youth  hangs  in  doubt  what  favorite  path  to  choose. 
 The  bee,  midst  odorous  luxuries  perplex'd, 
 Sips  every  bloom,  but  sips  in  thought  the  next ; 
 And  youth  ere  one  fix'd  element  he  tries, 
 Delights  to  loiter  in  varieties. 
 
 See  Crichton,  stripling  sage  and  early  mourn'd, 
 By  all  the  Graces,  all  the  Nine  adorn'd ; 
 See  Buonarroti,  rich  of  soul,  connect 
 The  painter,  sculptor,  bard,  and  architect. 
 These  claim'd  their  birthright  freedom,  nor  resign'd 
 To  Chance  the  reins  and  mastership  of  mind; 
 Conscious  of  powers  undisciplined  by  fate, 
 Yet  powers,  which,  (Life  so  little,  Art  so  great,) 
 None  may  distract,  but  such  to  whom  was  given 
 "  The  pomp  and  prodigality  of  Heaven." 
 
 Large  in  his  mental  as  his  moral  plan, 
 Lord  of  himself  in  both,  has  Heaven  created  man  : 
 
 M  2 
 
164  ESSAY    ON    THE 
 
 Heir  to  no  tyrant  Art  be  Genius  styled, 
 
 Thy   nurseling,   Chance,    and    Nature's   free-born 
 
 child. 
 Still  Chance  and  Nature  to  the  soul  dispense, 
 Its  measure  This,  and  That  its  mode  of  sense : 
 As  Chance  elicits,  thro*  uncertain  veins^ 
 The  fire  which  Nature  in  the  flint  ordains ; 
 Fashions  the  plant  where  she  hath  sown  the  field, 
 Or  springs  and  mints  the  metal  she  conceal'd. 
 
 Thus,  then,  to  form  us  in  some  separate  art, 
 Nature  and  Chance  their  social  force  impart : 
 Little  can  aught  the  fated  first  advance, 
 But  many  a  cause  may  strongly  second  Chance  i 
 And  trace  we,  now,  with  diligent  regard, 
 How  generous  Nature  in  the  casual  bard 
 Is  nurtured ;  till,  in  all  his  beauty  dress'd 
 And  all  his  majesty,  he  shines  confessed. 
 
 A  flower,  once  known  in  scenes  of  early  joy, 
 Beguiles  the  scent,  and  bribes  the  partial  eye, 
 Tho'  poor  itself  of  grace  or  fragrancy : 
 A  name,  tho'  vulgar,  once  to  passion  dear, 
 How  musical  it  strikes  the'  abstracted  ear : 
 Such  fine  connections  freakish  Fancy  weaves, 
 Such  nice  affinities  of  thought  conceives  ! 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  165 
 
 And  such,  by  most  unmark'd,  the  insect  Chance, 
 (  Book,  scene,  discourse,  or  nameless  circumstance, ) 
 That  stamps  the  poet ;  there  the  embryo,  there 
 The  folded  germ,  of  mental  character. 
 So  microscopic  vision,  sketch'd  obscure 
 On  acorns,  eyes  an  oak  in  miniature ; 
 The  tiny  trunk  that  once  shall  crown  the  glade, 
 And  all  the'  unopen'd  latitude  of  shade. 
 
 Who  boasts  a  son  with  love  of  fable  blest, 
 And  seeks  to'  assist  the  bias  Chance  impress'd, 
 Gives  him,  his  wakening  fancy  to  regale, 
 Pathetic  ballad,  and  eventful  tale, 
 Of  knighthood,  storied  oft  in  legend  lore, 
 Or  Crusoe,  joyless  on  his  lonely  shore  ; 
 Leaves  him,  anon,  to  gaze  in  dreamy  trance 
 The  rich  fantastic  pictures  of  romance  ; 
 Such  as  the  sons  of  Araby  display'd, 
 And  Radcliffe,  late,  more  livingly  pourtray'd. 
 Powerful  enchantress,  hail !  what  strange  delight 
 I  owe  thee,  many  a  lone  December  night ! 
 As,  now,  the  pangs  of  sympathy  controul, 
 The  charms  of  horror,  now,  my  thrill'd  suspended  soul : 
 Whether  Udolpho's  mystic  chambers  ope, 
 Or  dark  Schedoni  feeds  the  murderous  hope  ; 
 
166  essAy  on  the 
 
 Whether  sweet  Ellena,  that  fateful  hour, 
 Hears  whispering  ruffians  in  the  corridor ; 
 Or  Emily,  not  yet  an  orphan,  strays, 
 On  Nature,  midst  her  proudest  pomp,  to  gaze ; 
 I  see,  I  feel  it  all ;  my  vision'd  room 
 Now  seems  a  sudden  paradise  to  bloom, 
 Now  scarce  I  trust  my  sight  athwart  the  lamp-light 
 gloom. 
 
 These  be  the  sportive  lessons  of  the  boy ; 
 But  nobler  fruits  the  sobering  taste  employ : 
 His  own,  his  idol  care  he  plies  ere  long, 
 And  hails  the  sweet  artificers  of  song ; 
 Not  all  alike :  most  the  mere  Verseman's  name 
 Befits,  how  few  the  godlike  Poet's  claim ! 
 
 Thee,  Shakspeare,  now  with  ravishment  he  views, 
 Substantial  image  of  the  fabled  Muse ; 
 Given  o'er  the  soul,  o'er  Nature  given,  to  reign ; 
 And  riot  in  the'  exuberance  of  thy  vein : 
 Oh  could  a  mind,  illumed  with  heavenly  lore, 
 Aught  of  created  excellence  adore, 
 First  would  I  kneel  to  thee,  thy  blessing  first  im- 
 plore ! 
 Or,  twinn'd  with  thine,  should  Milton's  godhead  be  ? 
 Milton,  whose  name  is  dread  sublimity ; 
 
FORMATION   OF    GENIUS.  167 
 
 With  whom  the  nurseling  poet  oft  should  dwell 
 In  Heaven  or  Chaos,  Paradise  or  Hell. 
 Imperial  bards  !  by  these  our  envying  foes, 
 In  wit  as  war,  we  gloriously  oppose ; 
 By  these  who,  singly,  single  names  outvie, 
 Who,  pair'd,  a  whole  embodied  world  defy. 
 — Such  flash  young  inspiration ;  after  such, 
 Read  or  unread,  the  rest  import  not  much  : 
 Nor  Dryden's  racy  vigor  asks  our  praise, 
 Nor  Chaucer's  rude,  nor  Spenser's  learned  lays ; 
 Nor  seek  we  far  wThat  best  we  find  at  home ; 
 For  Britain  sole  avails, — or  Britain,  Greece,  and 
 Rome. 
 Fancy  not  always  treads  poetic  ground : 
 Prose  in  the  garb  of  Poesy  is  found ; 
 And  sometimes  Poesy,  disguis'd  in  Prose, 
 Lurks  as  a  flower  that  midst  the  desert  blows. 
 Hark  how  sage  Taylor  soothes  and  awes  by  turns ; 
 In  him  what  beauty  beams,  what  spirit  burns ! 
 Hark  how  those  Hebrew  seers  of  elder  time 
 Utter  the  God  in  prophesy  sublime ; 
 How  Job  in  soul-felt  accent  wails  his  woes, 
 How  like  a  seraph,  rapt  Isaiah  glows  ! 
 
168  ESSAY   ON    THE 
 
 Here,  Genius,  touch  thy  lamp  with  heavenly  fires ; 
 
 No  fabled  inspiration  here  inspires  ; 
 
 Here  was  a  Cowper,  here  a  Milton,  taught, 
 
 And  that  from  heaven  his  charms,  and  this  his  ter- 
 rors caught. 
 Meantime,  the  babbling  page  oft  thrown  aside, 
 
 Be  thoughts  of  others  by  our  own  supplied ; 
 
 Mindful  that  Learning,  push'd  beyond  her  pitch, 
 
 "  Does  but   encumber  whom  she   seems  to*  en- 
 rich." 
 
 And  hence,  perchance,  this  ebb  of  tuneful  wit ; 
 
 Hence  have  so  few  excel'd,  where  hosts  have  writ  5 
 
 Too  much  we  read,  too  little  think ;  we  boast 
 
 And  imitate  our  sires,  ourselves  distrust. 
 
 Genius  indignant,  from  a  land  retires, 
 
 Where  meddling  schoolmen  fain  would  mend  her 
 fires: 
 
 Your  quacks  oft  murder  whom  to  cure  they  feign, 
 
 And  still  your  critics  criticise  in  vain. 
 
 Yon  peasant  mark,  ambitious  from  his  hive 
 
 Large  hoards  of  richest  honey  to  derive  ; 
 
 Prisons  he  the  sweet  murmurers,  clips  their  wings, 
 
 Instructs  their  choice,  or  number'd  flowerets  brings  ? 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  169 
 
 Oh  no !  he  bids  them  visit,  as  they  will, 
 
 "  Clear  spring,  or  shady  grove,  or  sunny  hill," 
 
 Nor  doubts  the'  inspiring  God,  the'  inimitable  skill.* 
 
 Yet  some  their  independence  dare  avow ; 
 A  Cowper,  late ;  a  Scott,  a  Southey,  now. 
 No  fools  to  Fashion,  these,  no  slaves  to  Pope, 
 Bold  and  at  large  let  Nature  prove  her  scope : 
 And  who,  of  all  the  full  coeval  train, 
 Yield  such  delight,  such  well-earn' d  wonder  gain, 
 As  Marmion's,  or  as  Madoc's  mightier  strain  ? 
 These  to  our  sons,  unbroken,  still  prolong 
 The  proud  succession  of  Britannic  song. 
 
 But,  Muse,  thou  slightest  thy  pupil ;  bid  him  ply 
 His  own  weak  wings,  and  short  excursions  try ; 
 Bid  him  the  warble,  rude  at  first,  essay, 
 Yet  sweet,  as  promising  a  worthier  lay. 
 Him  shall  no  imitative  rules  enthrall, 
 No  heritage  of  thread-bare  pastoral 
 Stint  his  young  strength  :  himself  in  rebel  mood, 
 Shall  work  his  bold  unprentic'd  livelihood, 
 No  pilferer  of  the  poor,  no  beggar's  cur, 
 Of  borrowing  bards  no  piteous  pensioner. 
 
 *  See  Sir  W.  Temple's  Essay  on  Poetry,  to  winch  I  am 
 indebted  for  tiiis  little  illustration. 
 
170  ESSAY   ON   THE 
 
 Not  his  the  tame  traditionary  mind 
 Coldly  correct,  still  "  cabin'd,  cribb'd,  confined;" 
 But  his  the  spirit  resolutely  free, 
 Proud  of  its  competence  and  liberty. 
 He  looks  around,  looks  inward ;  rather  feels 
 Than  studies ;  less  in  wit,  than  passion,  deals. 
 Feeling,  that  prompts  whate'er  of  happier  vein 
 Thalia  sings,  shall  guide  his  boyish  pen ; 
 Feeling,  the  Muse  unfeign'd,  the  soul  of  art, 
 That,  storming  judgment,  wins  at  once  the  heart ; 
 Feeling,  the  nurse  of  Shakspeare  ;  she  that  strung 
 Her  Goldsmith's   harp,  and   form'd  her  Burns's 
 
 tongue ; 
 That  breathes  enchantment  o'er  thesimplest  thought; 
 While  flashier  wit,  by  heartless  Fancy  wrought, 
 Shines  unendear'd, — is  flattered  and  forgot. 
 
 Cumbrous,  and  crude,  and  straggling  in  excess, 
 Not  stunted  to  laborious  barrenness ; 
 Smoothly  descriptive,  burthenless  of  sense, 
 Rich  in  well-vowel' d  words  and  florid  impotence ; 
 Such  are  his  first  essays,  with  raptures  view'd ; 
 Raptures  like  which  he  ne'er  may  hope  renew'd ; 
 Raptures  like  which  the*  impassion'd  mother  knows, 
 When  pangs  yet  new  her  bridal  babe  disclose. 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  171 
 
 Vain  raptures  !  roughening  judgment  frowns  away 
 
 Whate'er  thus  blossom'd  in  the  vernal  ray ; 
 
 Legions  of  sing-song  dread  the'  unpardoning  test, 
 
 A  thousand  victim  lines  redeem  the  rest : 
 
 Yet  see  him  watch  the  kindling  pile  with  sighs, 
 
 See  drops  of  pity  grace  the  sacrifice : 
 
 So  mourn'd  young  Petrarch,  while  a  ruffian  sire 
 
 Consign'd  the  treasur'd  Virgil  to  the  fire. 
 
 Vigor  by  food,  by  knowledge  Genius  thrives, 
 And  Fiction  half  her  wealth  from  Truth  derives  : 
 Much  as  her  mightiest  feign'd,  they  learn'd  as  much  : 
 Such  thou,  all-beauteous  Maro ;  Milton  such  ; 
 Nor  Scott,  nor  Southey,  slights  the  gains  of  lore ; 
 Since  Milton,  who  have  sought  or  used  them  more  ? 
 — Tho'  tuneful  Fancy  claim  his  prime  regard, 
 Let  all  the  Muses  share  the  vacant  bard  ; 
 Nor  he,  tho'  one  monopolise  his  vows, 
 Scorn  the  fair  sisters  of  his  fairer  spouse. 
 
 Be  thou,  oh  Muse  of  History,  his  friend  ; 
 Thee  let  him  visit  oft,  thy  crowded  walks  attend ; 
 Age  after  age  see  kings  and  nations  pass, 
 Mirror'd  at  large,  as  on  magician's  glass ; 
 Their  acts,  modes,  manners,  learn ;  and  from  the  train 
 Select  some  favorite  for  his  blazoning  strain : 
 
172  ESSAY    ON    THE 
 
 But  most  those  rude  and  dusky  tracts  explore, 
 Where  Fiction  loves  to  weave  her  goodliest  bower, 
 With  blooms  and  verdure  the  starved  soil  to  dress, 
 And  plant  an  Eden  in  the  wilderness. 
 
 Oft,  an  ideal  traveller,  he  hails 
 New  regions  ;  with  adventurous  Humboldt  scales 
 The  grim  volcanic  Andes  pillaring  heaven ; 
 Shares  thy  distress,  pathetic  Byron,  driven* 
 To  famine's  hideous  verge ;  with  glad  surprise, 
 Like  Park,  the  sand-embosom'd  Niger  spies ; 
 Or,  led  by  Bruce  thro'  many  a  varied  soil, 
 Seeks  the  coy  fountains  of  majestic  Nile, 
 Then  sits  him  down  beside  them  to  deplore 
 The  mighty  secret  found,  the  mighty  labor  o'er. 
 And  now,  embark'd,  the  chill  dun  clime  he  braves, 
 Where  round  ice-rocks  the  polar  billow  raves ; 
 Now  glides  where  Otaheite,  queen-like,  smiles 
 Amidst  her  clustering  sisterhood  of  isles : 
 Thou,  Cook,  his  guide,  his  genius,  o'er  the  seas, 
 Beloved  and  reverenced  ev'n  by  savages  ; 
 Boast  of  thy  kind,  as  blessing  of  thine  age  ; 
 How  merciful,  tho'  firm !  how  spirited,  yet  sage ! 
 
 *  Byron's  Narrative  of  his  distresses  on  the  coast  of  Pata- 
 gonia. 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  173 
 
 Delightful  task,  while  Fancy  thus  pursues 
 The  wanderer,  and  each  scene  distinctly  views  ! 
 In  hours  we  crowd  the  dwindling  work  of  years, 
 And,  part  by  part,  within  our  cell  appears 
 The  motley  globe ;  all  undisturb'd,  we  bear 
 Innumerous  toils,  innumerous  perils  dare. 
 The  magic  page  dismiss'd,  with  glancing  soul 
 We  mock  degrees,  and  pass  from  pole  to  pole  : 
 Their  influence  old  realities  resume, 
 And  book-shelves  wall  the  disenchanted  room, 
 
 Xor  far  Philosophy  with  eye  sublime, 
 Listening  at  starlight  hour  "  the  sphery  chime  f 
 Defrauding  night  of  slumber,  to  behold 
 Arcturus  huge,  Orion  arm'd  with  gold, 
 And  all  the  host  of  worlds  in  awful  stillness  roll'd.* 
 But  hence  the  pale  Mathesis  !  hence  aloof, 
 With  mazy  diagram  and  madding  proof! 
 On  Cam's  drear  marge  by  solemn  triflers  nurs'd, 
 Still  foes  to  Fancy,  as  to  Milton  erst ; 
 Where,  like  a  prison'd  eaglet,  Genius  lies, 
 And  mourns  the  faded  lightning  of  his  eyes  ; 
 
 *  "  Sidera  cuncta  notat,  tacito  labentia  ccelo  ; 
 
 Ai  matumque  auro  circumBpicit  Oriona. '— Virg. 
 
174?  ESSAY   ON    THE 
 
 Where  from  a  thousand  voices  seems  to  swell 
 One  burthen, — "  Let  us  all  ring  Fancy's  knell." 
 
 Poets,  to  mock  their  pride,  are  sometimes  found 
 Cursed  with  strange  dulness  to  the  charms  of  sound; 
 And  he,  whose  lay  so  musically  flows 
 In  praise  of  music,  lists  among  her  foes ; 
 So  jealously  does  Heaven  its  boons  dispense, 
 Grudging  to  one  the  sweets  of  every  sense  : 
 Nor  more  each  bard  the  sphere  of  sound  invades 
 Than  each  musician  wooes  the'  Aonian  maids. 
 Yet  if,  perchance,  Heaven,  prodigal  in  care, 
 Have  crown' d  him  with  the  treasure  of  an  ear  ; 
 Oft  let  him  witness,  rapt  in  musings  high, 
 The  bliss,  the  pain,  of  thrilling  harmony, 
 The  rage,  the  languish  ;  now,  at  shut  of  day, 
 To  melancholy  dirges  die  away ; 
 Anon,  inspirited  with  martial  air, 
 Catcli  by  degrees  the  fierce  desire  to  dare, 
 •Catch  all  the  fiery  turbulence  of  war. 
 While  on  his  ear  the  keen  vibrations  roll, 
 Poetic  dreams  come  gliding  o'er  his  soul : 
 See  to  the  bard  the  harmonist  impart 
 New  strength,  and  Art  reflect  its  charms  on  Art. 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  115 
 
 Oft  in  the  life-warm  canvass  let  him  trace 
 "  A  Michael's  grandeur  and  a  Raphael's  grace  ;" 
 Oft  gaze  the  featur'd  marble.     To  Sublime 
 And  Beauteous  these  attune,  in  youthful  prime, 
 The  judging  soul ;  nor  less,  with  varied  vein, 
 Stern  Rosa,  solemn  Gaspar,  sweet  Lorraine. 
 The  true-born  poet  shares  the  painter's  eye, 
 (For  Picture  culls  her  toils  from  Poesy,) 
 That  eye,  which  in  each  scene,  each  object,  sees 
 Whate'er  is  form'd  to  awe,  whate'er  to  please ; 
 Gleans  what  the  herd  of  gazers  ne'er  compute, 
 And  grasps  the  great,  yet  slights  not  the  minute. 
 
 But  Nature  beckons  :  from  Art's  shadowy  views 
 Pass  we  to  real  forms  and  living  hues. 
 
 The  haunts  of  youth  a  still  small  influence  boast 
 On  man  at  large,  on  Fancy's  children  most. 
 Doubt'st  thou  the  power  of  place  to  train  the  mind  ? 
 Send  o'er  the  globe  thy  glances  unconfined : 
 Rough  as  his  ice-built  rocks  the  Switzer  see, 
 True  to  his  mountain  goddess,  Liberty ; 
 
 Unlike  his  neighbors, — work  of  Place,  not  Chance, 
 
 Unlike  the  gay,  the  glossy  sons  of  France, 
 Unlike  the  German,  cold  so  oft  and  dry, 
 Unlike  the  soft  Italian,  meanly  shr. 
 
176  ESSAY    ON    THE 
 
 Or  here,  (for  answering  shades  of  mind  are  here,) 
 
 Mark,  in  the  Caledonian  mountaineer, 
 
 And  Cambrian,  what  an  untamed  fire  prevails, 
 
 What  credulous  delight  in  wisard  tales ; 
 
 While  Lowland  spirit  lags,  and  Lowland  fancy  fails. 
 
 Minds,  like  a  frosty  moonshine,  chill  and  clear, 
 
 Where  nothing  blooms,  tho'  slenderest  shapes  appear, 
 
 Barren  and  keen,  and  well  for  Science  fit, 
 
 Most  part  in  flat  unvaried  scenes  we  meet, 
 
 Such  as  where  Cam  o'er  marshy  moorland  creeps, 
 
 Or  midst  his  fens  the  Lincoln  peasant  sleeps  : 
 
 Not  there  Imagination  rich  and  warm, 
 
 Gilding,  like  summer  sunlight,  every  form, 
 
 Wakening  to  life  what  slept  inert  before, 
 
 And  teaching  all  that  charm'd  to  charm  the  more. 
 
 By  early  scenes  was  Thomson's  breast  inflamed ; 
 
 By  early  scenes  the  soul  of  Beattie  framed  ; 
 
 By  early  scenes  your  powerful  pictures  wrought, 
 
 Heart-searching  Southey,  and  romantic  Scott ! 
 
 And  oft  in  early  scenes,  (for  every  mind 
 
 More  or  to  grand  or  lovely  seems  inclined,) 
 
 The  mould  and  rudiments  of  taste  we  find. 
 
 Hence  should  the  poet  youth  at  large  converse 
 
 With  Nature's  inspirations ;  hence  should  nurse 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  177 
 
 Description's  art  to  charm  the  mental  eye, 
 
 And  mingle  painting  into  poesy : 
 
 For  masters  know,  in  either  kind  alike, 
 
 As  'twere  with  present  forms  the  soul  or  sense  to 
 
 strike. 
 — Oh,  o'er  a  beauteous  landscape  I  could  gaze, 
 Unwearied,  moonlight  nights  and  summer  days ; 
 In  vision  drink  the  river's  winding  flow, 
 And  rest  and  revel  midst  the  various  glow 
 Of  woodlands,  bosom'd  here  in  dingle  deep, 
 (Such  as  half  tempts,  half  shuns  the  curious  peep,) 
 Here  feathering  many  a  softly  swelling  steep ; 
 While,  thickening,  lessening    on  the'  o'ercrowded 
 
 eye, 
 What  hedgerow  lines,  what  streaks  of  meadow  lie, 
 Green,  russet,  gold,  of  every  rainbow  dye  ! 
 Flocks,  herds,  like  specks  of  red  or  yellow,  seen  ; 
 Grange,  hamlet,  bridge,  mill,  tower,  and  spire  be- 
 tween ; 
 And,  tinted  with  how  bright  or  faint  a  stroke, 
 The  window  sun-gilt,  and  blue  wreath  of  smoke. 
 
 Nor,  only,  on  the  rich  and  smiling  dwell, 
 But  woo  the  wild,  the  vast,  the  terrible  : 
 
 N 
 
178  ESSAY  ON   THE 
 
 Rare  the  Sublime  to  hit,  and  hard  to  cull, 
 
 But  cheap  and  obvious  lies  the  Beautiful. 
 
 Nor,  these  contrasted  characters  to'  explore, 
 
 Need  British  bard  o'erstep  his  own  dear  shore ; 
 
 Where  find,  if  not  in  this  consummate  isle, 
 
 Or  Grandeur's  darkest  frown,  or  Beauty's  loveliest 
 
 smile  ? 
 From  Albin's  ridgy  chaos  shift  thy  glance 
 To  England's  fair  diversified  expanse  ; 
 From   Arvon's   peaks,   that  mock  the   clouds   of 
 
 dusk, 
 To  the  sweet  vales  of  Towy  named  or  Usk. 
 
 Impatient  of  the  tawny  champain,  he, 
 Impatient  of  Art's  tame  fertility, 
 Joys  in  the  view  that  laughs  at  rule  or  bound, 
 A  sea  of  mountains  heaving  huge  around, 
 Rough,  dark,  confused,  august ! — There  watch  him 
 
 stand 
 On  some  proud  peak  that  looks  o'er  half  the  land ; 
 Stand  like  a  god,  the  new-born  sun  behold, 
 And  spurn  the  night-clouds  underneath  him  rolFd : 
 Watch  him,  in  fearful  wonder,  fling  from  high 
 Down  down  some  dizzy  depth  a  swimming  eye; 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  179 
 
 Or  trace  the  tempest,  drink  the'  aerial  roar, 
 And  pacing  slow  some  melancholy  shore, 
 Mark  the  big  billow,  whitening  on  its  way, 
 Curl  up  its  crested  ridge,  and  crash  in  clouds  of 
 spray. 
 Nor  less,  enchanted  with  fantastic  fright, 
 In  wood-girt  vale,  at  "witching  hour  of  night," 
 Now  at  their  sports  he  sees,  or  thinks  he  sees, 
 The  freakish  fairies  glimmering  thro'  the  trees ; 
 Now,  o'er  his  frame  while  icy  shuddering  steals, 
 A  twitching  sprite  behind  him  fears  or  feels. 
 And,  sometimes,  aspen  foliage  whispering  faint, 
 Or  wakeful  Philomela's  liquid  plaint, 
 Or  watery  murmur,  such  as  fills  the  mind 
 With  feeling  strange  and  mix'd  and  undefined, 
 He  hears,  late  lingering;  the  soft  sounds  impress 
 A  mournfully  delicious  pensiveness. 
 Such  raptures  oft  the  son  of  song  will  woo, 
 Dark  to  the  crowd,  to  Genius  ever  new : 
 And  who,  such  mystic  raptures  given  to  know, 
 Would  for  a  world  of  gold  the  charms  forego 
 Of  Moonshine's  yellow  mist  or  Evening's  purple 
 glow  > 
 
 N  2 
 
180  ESSAY   ON   THE 
 
 But  oh,  the  scenes,  to  local  memory  dear 
 And  local  feeling, — should  such  scenes  appear,— 
 Where  moral  charms  material  far  outvie, 
 And  Fancy  blinds  us  to  Reality ; 
 What  sacred  musings,  what  severe  delight, 
 These  to  the  poet's  ardent  breast  invite ! 
 Lives  there  the  wretch  that,  uninspired,  could  see 
 Thy  fatal  pass,  renown'd  Thermopylae  ? 
 Could  tread  the  dust,  nor  own  enthusiast  glow, 
 Where  Rome,  with  all  her  mighty,  lies  below  ? 
 Could  witness,  thrilPd  with  no  associate  awe, 
 That  holiest  earth  which  once  Messiah  saw  ? 
 Yet  Gibbon,  sauntering  with  distended  soul 
 In  the  dread  shadow  of  the  Capitol, 
 Design'd  a  nobler  monument  of  Fame  ;  * 
 Yet,  (for  our  Britain,  Britons  here  to'  inflame, 
 Boasts  her  own  spots  of  consecrated  soil,) 
 The  Rambler,  midst  Iona's  alter'd  isle, 
 Paused  o'er  her  nodding  towers  with  glistening 
 
 eye, 
 And  gather'd  eloquence  from  scenery  ; 
 
 *  Gibbon's  Memoirs  of  his  Life  and  Writings. 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  181 
 
 Blazoning  the  force  of  haunts  where  Genius  thought, 
 Devotion  burn'd,  or  patriot  Valour  fought.* 
 
 He,  spurning  still  the  dark  obstreperous  town, 
 With  Nature  strays,  romantic  and  alone; 
 Nor  hides  brute  vacancy  with  stare  profound, 
 But  muses  inward,  while  he  looks  around; 
 Now  feeds  on  thought,  and  lists  the  tuneful  din 
 Of  fancies  multitudinous  within  ; 
 Now  loiters  with  a  book,  from  stile  to  stile, 
 Whose  page,  congenial,  wins  new  grace,  the  while, 
 Or  from  the  heartening  breeze  and  heavenly  smile, 
 Or  from  his  own  quick  sentiments  that  play 
 Less  in  the  twilight  cell  than  here  in  living  day. 
 
 Nor  yet  too  oft,  in  musing  solitude, 
 Bard,  o'er  the  treasures  of  thy  bosom  brood; 
 The  hermit's  conference  with  himself  alone 
 Gives  to  his  mind  a  dull  contracted  tone : 
 Vigor  and  breadth  and  springiness  of  thought 
 By  interchange  of  soul  with  soul  is  wrought : 
 Minds  act  as  whetstones,  or,  like  flints,  emit 
 In  brisk  collision  sparks  of  dormant  wit. 
 
 *  Johnson,  speaking  of  Icolmkill,  in  his  Tour  to  the  He- 
 brides. 
 
182  ESSAY    ON    THE 
 
 Oh  blest  of  Heaven  !  whose  envied  fortune  finds 
 A  living  library  of  mighty  minds ; 
 Where,  in  an  hour,  more  fruitage  oft  we  reap 
 Than  days  of  languid  labour  glean  less  cheap. 
 'Twas  thus  with  Shakspeare  Jonson  vied  of  yore,* 
 Affluence  of  genius  beggaring  pomp  of  lore ; 
 Thus,  late,  a  nobler  Johnson's  weight  of  sense 
 O'ermatch'd  his  Burke's  resplendent  eloquence. 
 
 The  flower  of  converse  sure  a  bard  befits ; 
 Yet,  in  this  "  workday  world,"  must  humbler  wits 
 Content  him  ;  not  those  half-wak'd  souls  that  ill 
 Inspirit  their  own  brute  receptacle, 
 Or  garnish  meagre  dulness  with  a  face 
 Of  sage  contortion  and  sublime  grimace ; 
 Murderers   of   mirth  !    whose  presence   o'er    the 
 
 room 
 Breathes  a  chill  silence  and  contagious  gloom ; 
 
 *  "  Many  were  the  wit-combats  between  Jonson  and  Shak- 
 speare; which  two  I  beheld,  like  a  Spanish  galleon  and  an 
 English  man  of -war.  Master  Jonson,  like  the  former,  was 
 built  far  higher  in  learning,  solid  but  slow  in  his  performances : 
 Shakspeare,  with  the  English  man  of  war,  lesser  in  bulk  but 
 lighter  in  sailing,  could  turn  with  all  tides,  and  take  advan- 
 tage of  all  winds,  by  the  quickness  of  his  wit  and  invention."— 
 Fuller. 
 
FORMATION   OF   GENIUS.  1S3 
 
 Not  those  pert  parrots  in  the  world  of  letters, 
 
 Who  still  admire,  still  imitate  their  betters, 
 
 Guiltless  themselves  of  character,  nor  aught, 
 
 Of  all  that  loads  the  lumber'd  head,  self-wrought, 
 
 Insulting  ev'nthe  friendwithhisown  echoed  thought; 
 
 Not  such  who,  silenc'd  oft,  are  never  mute, 
 
 Who,  alwajrs  contradicting  ne'er  confute, 
 
 WTho  to  the  fame  of  natural  force  and  fire 
 
 By  powerless  obstinacy  still  aspire, 
 
 Mere  ghosts  of  Genius  ! — These  may  entertain 
 
 The  frown  or  smile  of  grave  or  gay  disdain  : 
 
 But,  warm  with  spirit,  pregnant  with  supplies, 
 
 Fitted  alike  to'  amuse  and  exercise, 
 
 Such  be  the  minds  to  idling  poet  known, 
 
 Congenial  minds,  commensurate  with  his  own. 
 
 And  see  the  friends  that  bless  his  evening  hearth; 
 (What  bursts  of  reason,  eloquence,  and  mirth, 
 Those  wondering  walls  have  witness'd!)  see  them  sit, 
 Squandering  their  brave  absurdities  of  wit ; 
 Giants  at  play  ;  o'erstepping  tyrant  rules  ; 
 Baffling  the  soar,  the  sight,  of  grave-eyed  fools  ; 
 To  Nature  yielding  all  her  line  and  scope ; 
 Snatch'd  into  self-amaze,  beyond  self-hope ; 
 
184  ESSAY   ON    THE 
 
 Rampant  with  life  and  luxury  of  thought, 
 
 Such  as  the  rushing  rage  of  Inspiration  wrought  V 
 
 For  Wit,  not  Wisdom,  with  more  art  than  might, 
 These  in  light  arms  and  sly  manoeuvres  fight ; 
 Some  error  for  an  hour  they  gravely  borrow, 
 Resume  themselves,  or  change  the  freak  to-morrow. 
 Others,  to  these  opposed,  tho'  insecure 
 Of  conquest,  yet  strong- siding  Truth  ensure  ; 
 Hearten'd  by  Conscience,  marshalling  her  host 
 Of  iron  proofs  less  flashy  than  robust. 
 No  pause,  no  respite ;  emulously  bold, 
 Each  it  behoves  his  best  of  man  to*  unfold : 
 And  now, — as  Caesar  triumph'd,  Cato  died, — 
 The  sage  is  shoulder'd  by  the  wit  aside ; 
 Now,  quell'd  and  shamed,  the  bands  of  Error  fly, 
 O  Truth,  thy  terrible  serenity ! 
 Thus,  in  a  storm,  here  glares  the  ghastly  flash 
 Of  lightning  ;  there  the  doubling  thunders  crash ; 
 We  see,  we  hear,  and  pause  in  doubt  if  awed 
 More  by  the  dazzling  glance  or  deafening  voice  of 
 God. 
 
 From  such  loud  scenes  the'  affrighted  fair  retire : 
 Yet  shall  the  dearest  idols  of  desire 
 
FORMATION"    OF    GENIUS.  185 
 
 Ne'er  add  their  thrilling  presence  ?     E'er  did  bard 
 Thee,  woman,  lovely  woman,  disregard  ? 
 What,  tho'  the  green-eyed  satirist  allege 
 Thy  wit  unsharpen'd  to  man's  keener  edge ; 
 Paint  thee  with  passions  ever  in  excess, 
 No  principles,  or  fitful  as  thy  dress  I 
 Sure  there  are  some,  whose  eyes  of  heaven  disclose 
 Whate'er  in  moral  sweetness  Nature  knows ; 
 "Who,  with  all  outside  graces,  boast,  combined, 
 The  richer  broidery  of  the'  all-beauteous  mind ; 
 Clear  of  each  rock  on  which  frail  barks  are  hurl'd ; 
 Angels  of  light  amidst  a  darken'd  world. 
 Such  let  the  ravish'd  poet  oft  survey : 
 Oh,  need  I  point  that  sweet  attractive  way  ? 
 Need  I  not  warn  him  from  the  siren  lure : 
 For  when  with  Love  did  Glory  dwell  secure  ? 
 Yet  may  the  poet  in  these  charmers  woo 
 Not  bliss  alone,  but  inspiration  too  : 
 Fancy  and  Passion  each  can  each  infuse  ; 
 A  mistress  oft  has  realised  the  muse. 
 Lo,  Petrarch !  ask  what  influence  Tasso  fired, 
 Or  Scott's,  or  Southey's,   heart-warm  strains  in- 
 spir'd ! 
 
186  ESSAY  ON    THE 
 
 The'  unconscious  Desdemonas  of  our  age 
 Meet  their  own  forms  in  Shakspeare's  mirror  page; 
 And  her,  "  the  loveliest  of  her  daughters,  Eve," 
 Whose  but  thine  own,  O  Milton,  to  conceive  ? 
 
 Nor  small  the  bard's  concern  to  keep  his  breast 
 By  vice  untainted,  innocent,  and  chaste ; 
 Shunning  the  vicious  train,  howe'er  with  talents 
 
 graced. 
 Vice  chills  and  deadens  Genius ;  dims  her  sight, 
 Unnerves  her  vigor,  pinions  down  her  flight. 
 How  can  a  soul,  on  sordid  lures  intent, 
 Soar  into  grand  or  holy  sentiment  ? 
 Debased  with  lust,  disquieted  with  pride, 
 How  in  the'  ethereal  calm  of  poesy  reside  ? 
 Oh,  let  him  nurse  each  feeling  pure  and  high, 
 Content  meek-bosom'd,  soft-eyed  Sympathy, 
 Devotion,  chief,  of  ample  spirit !     Hence 
 "  Creative  Fancy's  wild  magnificence 
 And  all  the  dread  sublimities  of  song," 
 That  strike,  that  whelm  us  with  impression  strong, 
 Hence  to  the  muse,  else  impotent,  belong. 
 
 But  he,  that  paints  Life's  many-colour'd  face* 
 Not  more  the  garden,  than  the  wild,  should  trace ; 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  187 
 
 Should  trace  the  wild,  where  Nature  plays  at  will ; — 
 Nature,  "  with  all  thy  faults  we  love  thee  still ! " — 
 Where,  pure  from  her,  and  undebauch'd  of  Art, 
 Manners  and  passions  in  live  coloring  start ; 
 Where  Cambrian  steeps  o'ershadow  pastoral  dells, 
 Or  in  lone  Hebrid  isles  the  rude  enthusiast  dwells. 
 There,  as  poetic  landscapes  more  abound, 
 Poetic  persons  plenteously  are  found. 
 Fashion,  in  city  life,  unfeatures  most ; 
 A  gulph,  where  character  's  absorb'd  and  lost ; 
 A   mint,   where    Heaven's    own    coinage    is   new- 
 wrought, 
 All  smoothed  alike  ;  in  savage  soil  be  sought 
 The  flavorous  edge  of  coarse  uncultured  thought. 
 
 Not  that  it  much  affects  the  Poet,  where 
 Blind  Fortune  drops  him,  if  but  man  be  there  ; 
 If  but  his  own  an  eye  that  Nature  views, 
 A  heart  that  feels,  a  courage  that  pursues. 
 This,  this  is  all :  with  this,  magician-like, 
 Genius  from  every  nook  will  beauty  strike. 
 Still  deep-entranced  in  fiction,  he  descries 
 All  Art,  all  Nature,  with  peculiar  eyes  ; 
 Nor  more  their  broad  designs  than  nice  diversities. 
 
188  ESSAY   ON    THE 
 
 Nought  'scapes  him :  crowds  and  converse,  books 
 
 and  scenes, 
 Pay  various  tribute  to  the  store  he  gleans ; 
 Beast,  bird,  fish,  insect ;  every  flower  that  blows, 
 Cultured  or  wild ;  each  tree  the  forest  knows. 
 His  keen,  his  curious,  his  insatiate  mind 
 Thick-coming  images  can  hourly  find  ; 
 And,  after  dreaming  all  day  long,  the  muse 
 Nightly  her  visitations  oft  renews, 
 Or  when  calm  dayspring  o'er  the  pillow  gleams, 
 That  dear  delicious  hour  of  tuneful  themes 
 Which  oft,  of  yore,  inspired  my  warblings  rude, 
 And,  late,  the  bolder  strains,  that  here  conclude. 
 
 No  farther,  Muse,  with  fond  maternal  view 
 The  brightening  progress  of  thy  child  pursue  : 
 'Tis  finish'd  :  Genius,  in  thy  nurture  train'd, 
 Feels  her  young  nerves  "by  slow  degrees  expand. 
 Lo,  crown'd  with  all  that  Earth  or  Heaven  impart, 
 The  boons  of  Nature  and  the  spoils  of  Art, 
 With  conscious  pride  she  meditates,  at  length, 
 Some  high  memorial  of  her  gatherd  strength ; 
 Rolls  o'er  the  world  her  eagle  glance  awhile, 
 Then  stoops,  exulting,  on  the  glorious  toil. 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  189 
 
 So  Hermes,  ere  he  left  the'  empyreal  height, 
 Stood  in  his  feathery  trim,  succinct  for  flight ; 
 Sandals  his  feet,  his  brows  a  helm  inroll'd, 
 Fledge  with  ambrosial  plumes,  and  rich  of  downy 
 
 gold. 
 For  him  that  here  the  Poet's  growth  recites, 
 Hopes  he  to  realise  the  lore  he  writes  I 
 Hopes  he  on  Helicon's  green  side  to'  explore, 
 Polish'd  tho'  small,  some  undetected  ore  ? 
 Some  sweet  tho'   creeping  flower,  whose  modest 
 
 grace 
 Shrunk  from  the  great,  of  haughtier  charms  in 
 
 chace  I 
 Hopes  he  to  climb  the  panting  steep  of  Fame, 
 Her  glistering  temple  tread,  and  there  his  name 
 Grave  in  some  vacant  niche,  some  nook  obscure, 
 An  insect  wit,  a  bard  in  miniature  ? 
 There  to  the  Power  this  votive  strain  repeat, 
 And  lowly  lay  it  at  her  aweful  feet  ? 
 
 Yes,  let  him  hope !  for  sure  the  strain  displays 
 Those  rules  he  practised,  and  himself  pourtrays. 
 Oft  o'er  the  fabling  page  his  boyhood  hung ; 
 As  oft  the  lyre  his  youthful  hands  have  strung: 
 
190  ESSAY   ON    THE 
 
 Now  the  brown  Avon,  now  the  lucid  Cray, 
 
 Has  heard  him  humming  many  a  heart-born  lay ; 
 
 Now  "  Camus,  reverend  sire :"  and  Camus  knows 
 
 Thalia  saved  him  midst  her  cloister'd  foes ; 
 
 Nor  frozen  Science  won  his  truant  hour 
 
 Or  from  Athenian  or  Etrurian  lore, 
 
 The  traveller's  changeful  tale,  or  history *s  peopled 
 
 store. 
 Nor  slights  he  those  twin  sisters  of  his  muse, 
 Her  who  the  maze  of  melody  pursues, 
 And  her  who  guides  the  pencil.     Chief,  ye  scenes, 
 Where  from  the  wealth  of  Nature  Genius  gleans ; — 
 Where  in  her  Patrick's  dale  Ulleswater  smiles, 
 Where  broad  blue  Lomond  mirrors  her  green  isles, 
 Or  star-learn'd  Idris  from  his  cloudy  seat 
 Scowls  on  the  thunder  muttering  at  his  feet ; — 
 Witness,  ye  home-born  scenes,  how  oft  ye  view'd, 
 Loitering  amidst  your  pomp  in  bardlike  mood, 
 Your  stripling  worshipper ;  how  oft  he  sigh'd 
 For  landscapes  far  away,  than  yours  more  wild  and 
 
 wide ! 
 Converse  he  prizM;  nor  e'er,  a  stoic  churl, 
 5corn'd  the  light  prattle  of  the  softening  girl ; 
 
FORMATION    OF    GENIUS.  191 
 
 With  men,  on  wing  for  vigor  more  than  grace, 
 He  shunn'd  the*  unpregnant,  unimpassion'd  race  ; 
 Much  might  the  solemn  state  of  Genius  please, 
 But  most  the  rich  irregularities. 
 
 Yes,  let  him  hope  !  the  hope  is  joy.     Tho*  ne'er 
 Ambition's  higher  hummings  reach'd  his  ear  ; 
 Tho*  on  a  kindling  senate  to  flash  fire 
 From  patriot  lips,  he  never  dar'd  aspire ; 
 Never,  in  fight,  with  Wellesley's  eye  serene, 
 To  watch  the*  infuriate  horrors  of  the  scene : 
 Yet  who  but  hopes,  of  all  that  toil  in  rhyme, 
 To  shoot  his  memory  into  far-off  time  ? 
 And,  Cowley,  makes  thy  deep-drawn  sigh  his  own, 
 "  What  shall  I  do,  to  be  for  ever  known  ? " 
 
 Dec,  1811. 
 
192 
 
 THE  SIXTH  BOOK 
 
 OF 
 
 T  H  E   JE  N  E  I  D. 
 
 TTtScMOs  ef  ^^r,g  oXiyY)   Xiitxg. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It  must  have  appeared  to  many,--to  the  admirers  of  Milton  in 
 particular,— that  in  BlankVerse  only  can  the.  style  and  harmony 
 of  Virgil,  (especially  as  an  Epic  Poet,)  be  adequately  repre- 
 sented. The  Author,  having  long  entertained  such  an  opinion, 
 and  not  being-  aware  that,  in  this  kind,  a  version  has  yet  been 
 given,  so  satisfactory  as  to  supersede  any  new  attempt;  pre- 
 sents this  magnificent  Episode  as  a  specimen  of  the  Trans- 
 lation, which  nothing  but  an  assurance  of  public  approval 
 could  encourage  him  to  complete  and  publish. 
 
 Aug.  26, 1814. 
 
 Thus  while  he  spoke,  he  wept ;  then  wooed  the 
 
 breeze ;  % 
 
 That  now  the  fleet,  with  sail  distended,  gains 
 Cuma's  Eubo'ic  shore.    Forthwith  each  prow 
 
THE    SIXTH   BOOK   OF    THE    JENEID.  193 
 
 Seaward  they  point ;  each  bark,  with  griping  tooth, 
 Her  anchor  holds ;  and  all  the  beach  is  lined 
 With  galleys.     Ardent  on  the'  Hesperian  soil 
 Springs  the  young  squadron:  part  the  seeds  of  flame, 
 Lurking  in  flinty  veins,  explore  ;  the  rest 
 Some  shaggy  wood,  haunt  of  the  savage  kind, 
 Pierce,  or  display  some  new-detected  stream. 
 
 iEneas  to  the  hallow'd  height  repairs 
 Of  Phcebus,  and  the  cave,  (a  close  recess,) 
 Where  to  the  Sibyl,  nymph  revered  afar, 
 His  spirit  high  the  Delian  sage  imparts, 
 And  opes  unborn  futurities.     The  grove 
 Of  Hecate  passed,  awestruck  they  now  approach 
 The  temple  roof'd  with  gold.     In  aery  plumes 
 Confiding,  Daedalus,  (as  Fame  records,) 
 Steer'd  from  MinoTan  Crete  his  untried  way 
 To  Hyperborean  regions ;  and,  at  length, 
 Dropt  lightly  down  on  these  Chalcidic  towers. 
 Fresh  from  the  sky,  to  Phcebus  here  he  vow'd 
 His  oary  wings,  and  piled  the*  enormous  fane. 
 Wrought  on  the  doors  thy  piteous  fate  is  seen, 
 Androgeus :  next  the  race  of  Cecrops,  urged 
 By  vengeful  doom  seven  victim  youths  to  yield, 
 Their  annual  penance:  charged  with  death,  fast  by 
 
 o 
 
194  THE   SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 Stands  the  dread  urn:  and,  answering,  from  the 
 
 main 
 Emerges,  prominent,  the  Cressian  isle. 
 IJere  that  abhorr'd  amour,  the'  adulterous  Bull, 
 Pasiphae's  covert  bliss,  the  nameless  breed 
 Of  Minotaurus,  biform  progeny ; 
 Memorial  sad  of  infamous  desires. 
 Here,  last,  the  labyrinth  long  laboured ;  here 
 The  inextricable  maze  ;  where,  pitying  now 
 That  love-lorn  queen,  the'  Artificer  himself 
 Lends  to  her  darkling  steps  a  clue,  that  well 
 Unwound  each  wily  winding.     Thou,  too,  here, 
 Thou,  too,  lamented  Icarus,  thy  place 
 In  this  great  work  hadst  found ;  but  tears  forbade  : 
 Twice  he  assay'd  to  cast  thy  fate  in  gold, 
 Twice  droop'd  his  parent  hand.     Thus  had  they 
 
 paus'd, 
 And  every  part  perused  with  wondering  eyes, 
 But  now  Achates,  with  dispatchful  steps, 
 Arrived ;  and,  at  his  side,  the  ministress 
 Of  Phcebus  and  of  Hecate,  Glaucus'  child, 
 Deiphobe,  who  thus  the  Chief  salutes ; 
 "  The*  occasion  asks  not  spectacles  like  these : 
 Best  it  befits  from  out  the*  unblemished  herd 
 
OF    THE    iENEID.  195 
 
 Seven  steers  to  cull,  as  many  a  victim  ewe." 
 
 Thus  having  hail'd  /Eneas,  all  his  train 
 
 She  calls,  (nor  they  the'  appointed  rite  refuse.) 
 
 Within  the  fane,  a  deep  and  ample  cave 
 
 Hewn  in  the  cliffs.     To  this  an  hundred  paths, 
 
 An  hundred  mouths,  conduct ;  and  hence  proceed 
 
 An  hundred  sounds,  the  Sibyl's  loud  reply. 
 
 The  threshold  reach'd,  "  'Tis  come,  'tis  come," 
 
 exclaims 
 The  heaven-taught  maid,  "  the  hour  to  ask  thy  fates  : 
 The  God !  behold  the  God !"    Thus  while  she  spoke 
 Full  in  the  portal ;  sudden  changed  her  air, 
 Her  colour ;  .disarray'd  her  locks  are  seen ; 
 Quick  throbs  her  heart,  her  breast  with  heaven-bred 
 
 rage 
 Swells  high  ;  dilated  her  whole  form ;  her  speech 
 And  accent  not  of  earth  :  for  now  she  feels 
 The  rushing  influence  of  divinity. 
 "  Why  art  thou  slow,  Dardanian  Prince,  (she  cries,) 
 With  prayers  and  offerings  ?     Ne'er,  till  these  be 
 
 paid, 
 The  astounded  mansion  opes  her  mighty  mouths." 
 She  said,  and  paused :  o'er  all  the  listening  throng 
 
 o2 
 
196  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 An  icy  tremor  ran,  thrilling  each  nerve, 
 
 When  thus  the  Chief  his  heartfelt  suit  preferred : 
 
 "  Phoebus !  (for  thou  with  mercy  still  hast  eyed 
 The  toils  of  Troy,  and  thou  the  Phrygian  lance 
 Of  Paris  'gainst  Achilles'  form  didst  urge :) 
 Blest  in  thy  guidance,  such  a  length  of  sea, 
 Circling  huge  continents,  I  traced  :  in  this 
 Pierc'd  the  Massylian  waste,  so  far  withdrawn, 
 And  nations  girt  with  sand !  Italia's  shores, 
 Those  ever-flying  shores,  at  last  we  tread ; 
 Thus  far  the  fates  of  Troy  her  sons  pursue. 
 Ye,  too,  the  Teucrian  race  henceforth  may  spare, 
 Immortal  Powers,  whom  Ilion  late  opposed, 
 And  Phrygia's  glory  towering  high  to  heaven. 
 And  thou,  thrice-holy  Hierophant,  divine 
 Of  dim  futurity,  disclose,  (a  suit 
 All  unforbid  by  Fate,)  those  realms  prescribed: 
 For  Troy  shall  rest  in  Latium ;  there  her  powers 
 Long-wandering ;  there  her  sanctities  disturb'd. 
 Then  shall  a  fane,  of  Parian  stone  compact, 
 To  Phcebus  rise,  and  Hecate :  from  the  God 
 Shall  festal  days  be  named.     Nor  less  thyself 
 An  ample  mansion  in  those  realms  expect ; 
 
OF    THE    JENEID.  197 
 
 Where  I  will  store  thy  mystic  lots,  the  same 
 Which  bear  inscribed  the  fortunes  of  my  race ; 
 WTiere  sanctify  to  thee,  O  nymph  revered, 
 Selected  seers.     But  trust  not  thou  to  leaves 
 Thy  strains ;  nor  let  them  flit,  the  sport  and  spoil 
 Of  each  rude  gust :  No  :  to  the'  unquestion'd  voice 
 Attune  them."  Here  with  closing  lips  she  paused. 
 
 See  now  the  prophetess,  not  yet  subdued 
 By  Phcebus,  wildly  rioting  o'er  the  cave, 
 Struggling  the  strong  divinity  to  shake 
 From  off  her  breast :  with  vain  attempt :  for  he 
 Strains  her  the  more,  her  foamy  mouth  at  will 
 By  pressure  forms,  and  quells  the'  outrageous  soul. 
 Sudden,  the  mansion's  hundred  mouths  dispart 
 Spontaneous,  wafting  wide  the  deep  response : 
 "  O  'scaped  at  length  each  peril  of  the  sea, 
 But  doom'd  by  land  to  heavier !  soon  thy  sons 
 Shall  gain  Lavinium  :  spare  the  fear  :  but  soon 
 Shall  wish  to'  have  gain'd  it  never.    Wars  I  see, 
 Horrible  wars,  and  Tiber  froth'd  with  blood. 
 Nor  Simois  thence,  nor  Xanthus,  shall  be  far, 
 Nor  Dorian  camps.     A  new  Achilles  there, 
 ( He,  too,  of  parentage  divine, )  shall  rise  : 
 Nor  there  shall  Juno  fail  thee,  she,  of  Troy 
 
198  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 The'  unwearied  persecutress  :  till,  submiss 
 In  difficult  circumstance,  what  Latian  tribe, 
 What  Latian  town,  wilt  thou  not  sue  for  aid  ? 
 Source  of  these  woes,  (as  erst,)  a  foreign  bride, 
 And  foreign  hymeneals,  once  more  wooed. 
 Yet  not  for  this  yield  thou !  the  earliest  glimpse 
 Of  conquest  there  shall  dawn,  where  least  thy  hope, 
 Ev'n  amid  Grecian  towers."    In  words  like  these 
 The  Maid  of  Cuma,  still  disguising  truth 
 With  phrase  obscure,  from  forth  her  cell  resounds 
 Her  fearful  mysteries,  while  all  the  cave 
 Rebellows ;  Phoebus  o'er  her  madding  frame 
 Shakes  with  such  force  the  scourge,  and  goads  her 
 soul. 
 Her  rage  represt,  and  husht  her  quivering  tongue ; 
 "  Virgin,"  the  chief  replies,  "  thou  openest  here 
 No  shape  of  sufferance,  new  to  sight  or  strange : 
 My  thoughts  have  long  forecast  it.     One  request 
 Let  me  prefer  :  Since  here,  (as  Fame  reports,) 
 The  gate  of  Pluto,  here  the  darksome  lake 
 Disgorged  by  gushing  Acheron ;  be  mine 
 My  sire  to  seek,  his  form,  his  dear  embrace. 
 And  thou  the  path  disclose,  and  thou  unlock 
 The  sacred  portal.    Him,  thro'  gathering  flames, 
 
OF    THE    iENEID.  199 
 
 Mid  lances  throng'd,  these  filial  shoulders  bore, 
 And  rescued  from  the  thick  of  battle  :  he, 
 Partner  of  all  ray  wanderings,  shared  each  pain, 
 Each  peril,  menaced  or  by  seas  or  skies ; 
 Infirm  himself,  and  task'd  beyond  the  lot 
 Of  weakening  age.     He,  too,  with  many  a  prayer 
 Bade  me  thy  grot  thus  reverently  approach. 
 But  thou,  O  heavenly  maid,  on  sire  and  son 
 Take  mercy !  for  thou  canst :  nor  with  vain  boast 
 Hath  Hecate  placed  thee  o'er  the'  Avernian  groves. 
 And  Orpheus,  trusting  that  Threician  lyre 
 Of  tuneful  chords,  might  beckon  from  the  shades 
 His  forfeit  bride  :  and  Pollux  might  redeem 
 His  brother ;  each,  in  interchange  of  death, 
 Oft  passing,  oft  repassing.    What  need  words 
 Or  Theseus,  or  Alcides'  mightier  name 
 To'  enlist  with  these  ?   We  too  descend  from  Jove." 
 Such  prayer  he  made,  and  grasp'd  an  altar :  she, 
 Such  answer  slow  return'd:  "  O  sprung  from  heaven, 
 Son  of  Anchises !  easy  to  the  shades 
 Thy  downward  path,  and  pervious  night  or  day 
 The  gate  of  gloomy  Dis :  but  thence  to  turn 
 Thy  footstep  ;  and  revisit  heavenly  light, — 
 This  is  the  task,  the  labour.     Few,  (the  few, 
 
200  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 Of  gods  descended,  blest  by  partial  Jove, 
 Or  wing'd  by  glowing  virtue  for  the  stars,) 
 Have  this  high  feat  perform'd.    The  midway  tract 
 Forests  o'erspread,  and,  gliding  dark  and  slow, 
 Cocytus  rounds.     Yet,  such  if  thy  resolve, 
 If  such  thine  ardour,  twice  to  voyage  o'er 
 The  Stygian  sound,  twice  the  Tartarean  gloom 
 To  witness,  and  the'  unutter'd  toil  indulge ; 
 Then  learn  the  task  which  thou  must  first  atchieve. 
 Deep  in  the  woods  there  lurks  a  branch  of  gold, 
 With  golden  foliage,  sacred  to  the  queen 
 Of  those  infernal  regions :  this  the  groves 
 Hide,  and  amidst  umbrageous  vales  embower. 
 But,  till  some  hand  its  yellow-tressed  growth 
 Plucks  from  the  tree ;  to  pierce  the  dark  unknown 
 Will  ne'er  be  given  :  this,  her  appointed  boon, 
 The  fair  Proserpine  from  thy  hand  expects. 
 One  spray  disjoin'd,  a  second  fails  not  long, 
 Bright  as  the  first ;  and  fresh  and  fresh  they  bud 
 In  kindred  metal.     Thou  thy  searching  glance 
 Ply  diligent ;  and  let  thy  fingers  cull 
 The  well-detected  bough :  for,  if  the  Fates 
 Call  thee,  thy  touch  the'  obsequious  shoots  will 
 heed: 
 
OF    THE    iENEID.  201 
 
 But,  unrequired  thy  presence,  nought  of  strength 
 Avails  to  sever,  nought  of  stubborn  steel. 
 
 "  Hear  further :  breathlesslies,  (how  little  thought ! ) 
 The  corse  of  one,  thy  friend,  and  all  the  fleet 
 Mars  with  pollution  ;  while  thou,  lingering,  hopest 
 Our  voice  oracular.     Him  first  compose 
 In  his  own  cell,  with  funeral  decencies. 
 Select  thee,  for  thy  prime  oblation,  steers 
 Of  darkest  hue  :  so  shalt  thou  duly  see 
 The  Stygian  clime,  untrod  by  aught  that  lives." 
 This  said,  her  lips  to  silence  she  resign'd. 
 
 Forth  from  the  cave  the  hero  steps,  with  eyes 
 Downcast  and  sad,  the  deep  designs  of  Fate 
 Revolving  in  his  breast.     Eeside  him  walks 
 His  trusty  friend,  Achates,  filPd  alike 
 With  answering  cares.    Various  discourse  the  while 
 Is  interchanged :  "  What  lost  compeer  the  maid, 
 What  corse  unsepulcher'd,  intends."     And  now, 
 Gaining  the  beach,  Misenus,  (o'er  the  sand 
 Stretch'd  in  dishonourable  death,)  they  view; 
 Misenus,  son  of  Eolus  ;  than  whom 
 None  "better  knew  the  mustering  bands  to  rouse 
 With  brazen  clang,  and  bid  the  battle  burn. 
 Follower  of  mighty  Hector  heretofore, 
 
202  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 At  Hector's  side  oft  had  he  ranged  the  field, 
 With  clarion  graced,  and  lance.     But  soon  as  he 
 Fell  by  the  conquering  arm  of  Peleus'  son, 
 The  warrior  in  iEneas'  Dardan  train 
 Had  listed,  ne'er  with  mean  associates  leagued. 
 Him  now,  (as  haply  o'er  the  echoing  waves 
 He  blew  his  concave  shell,  and  madly  dared 
 To  tuneful  strife  the  sea-gods,)  Triton  seized, 
 And,  envy-struck,  (if  trust  be  given  to  Fame,) 
 Dash'd  the  wretch  headlong  amid  crags  and  foam. 
 
 Here  all  around,  nor  last  the  pious  chief, 
 Burst  into  loud  lament ;  yet,  in  their  tears, 
 Unloitering  the  Sibylline  charge  to  speed, 
 With  many  a  trunk  build  the  sepulchral  pile 
 High-storied :  to  some  antique  wood,  the  deep 
 Abode  of  savage  natures,  they  repair : 
 Fell'd  are  the  pines ;  before  the  frequent  axe 
 The  beech  comes  thundering  down  ;  while,  wedged 
 
 in  twain, 
 Wide  fly  the  beams  of  oak  or  ash,  and  elms 
 Of  giant  growth  are  tumbled  from  the  heights. 
 JEneas,  foremost  still  in  toils  like  these, 
 Wielding  himself  an  axe,  inspirits  all ; 
 And,  fixing  on  the  groves  a  wistful  gaze, 
 
OF    THE    jENEID.  203 
 
 Thus  communes  with  his  breast,  and  prays  aloud : 
 "  Oh  if  in  this  broad  shade,  that  branch  of  gold 
 Might  bless  our  sight !  and  sure  the  prescient  maid 
 Thy  fate,  Misenus,  too,  too  well  foresaw." 
 
 Scarce  had  he  ceased,  when  o'er  his  head,  per- 
 chance, 
 Came  flying  two  fair  doves,  and,  fast  beside, 
 Light  on  the  verdurous  glebe.     The  mighty  chief 
 Well  pleased  the  Paphian  pair  beholds,  and  "  Oh," 
 He  cries,  "  be  ye  my  guides !  to  that  blest  grove 
 Steering  your  course,  where  the  rich  bough  o'er- 
 
 hangs 
 Its  teeming  soil.     Nor,  goddess-parent,  thou 
 Slight  our  perplext  condition  !"     In  mid  speech 
 He  check'd  his  pace,  their  ominous  flight  to  heed  : 
 Onward  they  glide,  (still feeding  as  they  flew,) 
 Far  as  the'  observant  eye  may  stretch  its  ken ; 
 When  upward,  from  Avernus*  vapory  chasm, 
 They  soar  ;  and  winnowing  the  translucent  air, 
 Stoop  to  their  favorite  haunt,  that  wondrous  tree, 
 Betwixt  whose  umbrage  glimmers  from  afar 
 The  differing  light  of  gold :  as  oft,  in  woods 
 By  winter  chill'd,  the  missletoe  protrudes 
 Her  upstart  verdure,  still  around  the  girth 
 
204  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 And  arms  of  oak,  (which  never  dropt  her  seed,) 
 
 Winding  her  yellow  germ :  ev'n  such  the  glimpse, 
 
 In  that  brown  shade,  of  vegetable  ore, 
 
 So  the  leaf  tinkled  to  the  breathing  gale. 
 
 With  eager  grasp  JEneas  caught  the  prize, 
 
 And  snapt,  tho'  long  it  mock'd  him ;  then  with  step 
 
 Dispatchful,  bore  it  to  the  priestess*  grot. 
 
 Nor  less,  meantime,  the  Dardans  o'er  the  strand 
 WTept  their  Misenus,  and  with  parting  rites 
 His  mournful  relics  crown'd.     A  towering  pyre 
 Foremost  they  rear,  compact  of  sever'd  oak  ; 
 The  sides  with  dark-grain'd  foliage  interwoven, 
 Fronted  with  cypress,  plant  of  woe ;  the  top 
 With  glittering  arms  embellish'd.     Fervid  streams 
 Part  minister,  in  bubbling  cauldrons :  part 
 Lave  the  cold  limbs,  and  unctuous  dew  suffuse. 
 A  general  groan  succeeds.     Along  the  couch 
 They  stretch  the  corse,  and  colour'd  vests  o'erlay, 
 His  late  attire,  familiar  to  their  eyes. 
 Some  to  the  pond'rous  bier,  (sad  office  !)  yield 
 The  shoulder ;  some  the  ritual  torch  supply, 
 With  face  averted.     Odorous  offerings  burn, 
 Dainties,  and  oil  from  sidelong  chalice  pour'd ; 
 A  mingled  mass :  till  now, — the  flames  at  rest, 
 
OF    THE    iENEID.  205 
 
 The  wasted  fuel  fallen, — in  wine  they  steep 
 
 The  porous  ashes,  which  in  brazen  urn, 
 
 Piously  cull'd,  old  Cocyneiis  hoards. 
 
 He,  too,  around  his  fellows  thrice  conveys 
 
 Pure  lymph; — with  light  aspersions  moistening  each, 
 
 And  olive's  shining  sap,  thus  deals  to  all 
 
 Ablution,  and  repeats  the  farewell  sound. 
 
 Last,  the  good  prince  a  monumental  mound, 
 
 (  Mark'd  with  the  warrior's  name,  his  trump  and  oar, ) 
 
 Rears  huge,  beneath  a  high-brow'd  headland,  still 
 
 Sacred  to  thee,  Misenus,  and  ordain'd 
 
 To  bear  thro'  every  age  thy  deathless  name. 
 
 This  done,  with  brisk  observance  he  pursues 
 The  Sibyl's  last  behest.     A  cave  there  stood, 
 Of  mouth  wide-yawning,  and  unfathom'd  depth  ; 
 Pebbled  the  sides  ;  a  lake  of  leaden  hue 
 Here  guards  it,  there  a  night  of  nodding  shade : 
 O'er  which  no  solitary  wing  may  brush 
 The  baleful  air  ;  so  much  the  breath,  exhaled 
 By  those  dark  jaws,  sullies  the  neighboring  heaven. 
 Here,  with  four  steers  of  sable  hide,  the  priest 
 Stands  forth,  and  o'er  each  forehead  wine  distils ; 
 Plucks  from  betwixt  their  horns  the  bristling  hair, 
 And  scatters  midst  the  consecrated  flames, 
 
206  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 (A  first  libation ;)  clamouring  oft  the  name 
 Of  Hecate,  powerful  or  in  heaven  or  hell. 
 Others  the  knife  employ,  and  catch  in  bowls 
 The  reeking  gore  :  with  his  own  sword  the  chief 
 To  her,  the  Parent  of  the  Fiends,  and  Night, 
 Her  mighty  sister,  immolates  a  lamb 
 Of  dusky  fleece  ;  a  wither'd  cow  to  thee, 
 Proserpine  :  to  the'  Infernal  Monarch,  last, 
 Ushers  a  midnight  holocaust,  each  pile 
 Bespreads  with  solid  entrails  of  the  herd, 
 And  o'er  the  flaming  vitals  oil  distills. 
 
 But  lo,  as  dayspring  glimmers,  underfoot 
 Roars  the  rock'd  earth  ;  the  tufted  summits  nod ; 
 A  yell  of  dogs,  heard  thro'  the  gloom,  portends 
 The'  approaching  goddess.     "Far,"  the  priestess 
 
 cries, 
 "  Far,  ye  profane !  from  these  dread  shades  retire  ! 
 iEneas,  thou  thy  path  assay,  thy  steel 
 Pluck  from  its  sheath  :  now  be  the  man  display'd, 
 The  stedfast  soul !  'tis  now  the  hour  of  need." 
 This  uttering,  her  impassion'd  form  she  flung 
 Into  the  deep-mouth'd  cave:  nor  he  demurs 
 With  fearless  foot  to'  attend  his  downward  guide. 
 
 Ye  Gods  of  Spirit,  and  ye  silent  Shades I 
 
OF    THE    iENEID.  207 
 
 Thou,  Chaos,  and  thou,  Phlegethon !  ye  wastes, 
 Where  Night  her  noiseless  empire  wide  extends  ! 
 Your  rumour'd  mysteries  may  I  divulge, 
 Unblamed?   and  pour  broad  light  on  scenes  im- 
 
 merged 
 In  subterranean  gloom  ?     Darkling  they  tread, 
 In  midnight  solitude,  thro'  shadowy  realms, 
 Plutonean  habitations,  drear  and  void. 
 So  fares  the  wanderer  in  some  wildering  wood, 
 O'er  which  a  fitful  gleam  the  jealous  moon 
 Sheds  dimly;  heaven  with  mantling  clouds  obscured, 
 And  sombrous  night  discolouring  all  the  scene* 
 
 Full  in  the  vestibule  and  jaws  of  hell 
 Sorrow  has  pitch'd  her  tent,  and  vengeful  Care, 
 And  pale  Disease,  and  melancholy  Age, 
 And  Fear,  and  Famine  prompting  deeds  accurst, 
 And  loathsome  Want ;  shapes  terrible  to  sight ; 
 Labor,  with  these,  and  Death,  and  Sleep,  of  Death 
 Half-brother,  and  the  stealthy  joys  of  Guilt, 
 And  War  life-lavish,  and  the  Furies  rack'd 
 On  iron  beds,  and  Discord,  wild  of  soul, 
 Her  snaky  tresses  wreath'd  with  blood-red  band. 
 In  midst  of  these,  her  arms  an  elm  dispreads, 
 Dark,  antique,  vast ;  resort  of  aery  dreams, 
 
208  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 (So  rumour'd,)  clustering  every  leaf  beneath, 
 And  many  a  savage  form  :  for  Centaurs  here, 
 KennePd  beside  the  portal,  scowl ;  and  there 
 Scyllas  of  shape  ambiguous ;  hundredfold 
 iEgeon ;  Lerna's  monster,  hissing  dire ; 
 Chimaera,  maiPd  in  flame;  the  Gorgon  brood, 
 The  Harpies,  and  the  triply-member'd  Shade. 
 
 iEneas,  here,  with  panic  horror  thrilPd, 
 His  falchion  clench'd ;  against  the'  advancing  throng 
 Waved  it  unscabbarded ;  and, — but  that  she, 
 His  sage  conductress,  taught  him  how  the  ghosts, 
 (Thin  hollow  semblances  of  living  form,) 
 Flit  bodiless, — with  frustrate  onset  he 
 Had  hewn  in  sunder  those  impassive  shapes. 
 Now  to  Tartarean  Acheron  the  path 
 Conveys  him :  here,  with  whirlpool  rush  upturn'd, 
 Boils  the  brown  gulf,  a  weight  of  sand  and  slime 
 Disgorging  on  Cocytus'  kindred  stream. 
 These  waters  a  grim  ferryman  attends, 
 Of  uncouth  mien,  Charon  his  name,  his  beard 
 Profuse  of  matted  hoariness;  his  eyes 
 Two  fiery  orbs,  deep  in  their  sockets  fixd  : 
 A  sordid  garb,  collected  at  the  waist, 
 Overhangs  his  shoulders.     He  his  dusky  skiff 
 
OF    THE   iENEID.  209 
 
 Plies  with  a  pole,  or  ministers  the  sail, 
 And  wafts  the  shadowy  people  to  and  fro ; 
 Himself  with  age  now  visited,  but  age 
 Such  as  befits  a  god, — robust  and  green. 
 Hither  a  confluence  rush'd,  o'er  all  the  banks 
 Quick-gathering ;  matrons,  men,  heroic  forms, 
 Discharged  from  life;  girls  unbetroth'd,  and  youths 
 Laid  on  the  pyre  beneath  a  parent's  eye : 
 Thick  as,  in  woods,  when  first  the'  autumnal  gale 
 Blows  frore,  the  scatter'd  leaves  descend ;  or  thick 
 As  tow'rd  the  land  the  feathery  nations  flock, 
 By  churlish  months  driven  o'er  the  main,  in  quest 
 Of  sunny  region.     Supplicant  they  stood, 
 Their  hands  outstretching  with  intense  desire 
 Foremost  to  pass  the  flood,  and  foremost  tread 
 The  bank  opposed.     Now  these,  (of  chance,)  now 
 
 those, 
 The  joyless  boatman  beckons  ;  others,  long 
 Repulsed,  bids  from  the  sand  aloof  withdraw. 
 All  gaze,  all  wonder,  "  Tell  me,"  cries  the  chief, 
 "  Priestess,  what  means  this  trooping  round  the 
 
 stream  ; 
 What  seek  yon  souls  ;  why  some,  distinct  in  doom, 
 Speed  o'er  the  livid  lake ;  the  rest  its  marge 
 
 p 
 
210  THE   SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 Successless  quit."     To  whom,  in  brief  reply, 
 
 The  Hierophant :  "  Offspring  of  heaven  confest  I 
 
 Yonder  thou  seest  Cocytus'  dark  abyss, 
 
 And  here  the  Stygian  pool,  a  name  the  gods 
 
 Hold  reverend,  and  inviolably  adjure. 
 
 Yon  baffled  crowds  are  mortals  uninterr'd ; 
 
 The  bargeman,  Charon ;  all  the  bark  receives, 
 
 The  shades  of  those  entomb'd.     Nor  Fate  permits 
 
 That  o'er  these  awful  banks,  this  brawling  tide, 
 
 They  ferry,  ere  the  bedded  bones  repose. 
 
 An  hundred  years  they  roam,  around  the  coast 
 
 Hovering  forlorn ;  at  last,  revisit  glad 
 
 The  ford  so  long  desired."    Anchises'  son, 
 
 Check'd,  as  she  spoke,  his  footstep;  much  he  mused, 
 
 Much  pitied  so  severe  a  doom :  when  there 
 
 Sorrowing,  and  honourless  in  death,  he  spies 
 
 Orontes,  leader  of  the  Lycian  fleet ; 
 
 Whom,  (as  he  wander'd  the  tempestuous  main 
 
 From  Ilion,)  wild  winds  whelm'd  both  bark  and  crew. 
 
 And  see  where  Palinure,  the  pilot,  moves ; 
 Who  late,  observant  of  the  starlight  heaven, 
 Dropt  from  the  stern  in  Lybia's  midway  surge. 
 His  mournful  visage  when  the  chief  descries, 
 Dim  thro'  the  murky  shade ;  with  eager  voice 
 
OF    THE    JENEID.  211 
 
 He  greets  him:  "  Oh,  my  Palinure,  what  power 
 Stole  thee  from  us,  and  plunged  amidst  the  main  ? 
 Haste,  speak !  for,  ne'er  illusive  heretofore, 
 Here  Phoebus  mocks  me,  here  alone ;  who  sang 
 Thee  to  Ausonia  destined,  from  the  deep 
 Disbark'd  secure  :  oh  matchless  faith  of  Heaven  !" 
 
 But  he :  "  Nor  Phoebus'  tripod  mocks  thyself, 
 Hero  of  Troy,  nor  me  did  power  malign 
 Plunge  in  the  main.     My  rudder,  which  I  clench'd 
 With  pious  force,  its  guardian  and  its  guide, 
 By  random  shock  disjoin'd,  me  in  the  crash 
 Dragg'd  headlong.     By  the  stormful  seas,  I  swear, 
 No  fears  of  mine  were  like  my  fears  for  thee  ; 
 Lest,  guideless  now  and  of  her  helm  despoil'd, 
 Thy  ship  might  wreck,  when  the  big  billow  burst. 
 Three  wintry  nights,  along  the  world  of  waves, 
 A  south-wind  sped  me,  drench'd  with  violent  rains  ; 
 The  fourth  dawn  rose ;  riding  the  surge  sublime, 
 I  spied  faint  Italy.     By  slow  degrees 
 I  toil'd  ashore  ;  and  now  had  gain'd  the  dry ; 
 When,  as  with  earnest  gripe  their  cliffy  crags 
 I  caught,  the  barbarous  habitants  with  sword 
 Beset  me  in  my  dank  and  cumbrous  weeds, 
 Thirsting  for  spoil — how  vainly !  Now  the  winds 
 
 p2 
 
212  THE   SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 Toss  my  wave-weather 'd  corse.   But  oh !  by  heaven 
 Adjured,  the  blessed  light,  the  balmy  air ; 
 By  old  Anchises,  by  thy  rising  hope 
 lulus ;  snatch  me  swift  from  ills  like  these, 
 For  thou  art  able :  or  to  Velia's  port 
 Repair,  and  sprinkle  o'er  my  relics  earth ; 
 Or  next,  ( if  way  be  found,  if  to  thy  choice 
 Thy  goddess-mother  have  such  way  disclosed ; 
 For  ne'er,  I  deem,  without  supernal  grace 
 Mean'st  thou  to  brave  these  fearful  floods ;)  Oh  lend 
 Thine  aiding  arm,  and  in  thy  company 
 Bear  me  across  yon  gulf!  that,  here  at  least, 
 In  gentle  haunts  my  spirit  may  repose*" 
 
 Thus  he :  and  thus  the  prophetess  in  turn : 
 '  This  mad  request — whence  comes  it  ?    Thou  be? 
 
 hold, 
 Unburied  Palinure,  that  austere  wave, 
 Stream  of  the  Furies !    Thou  these  banks  forsake, 
 Uncited !    Cease,  oh  cease,  heaven's  laws  to  hope 
 By  suit  or  suasion  flexible :  but  hear 
 My  speech,  and  treasure  in  thy  thoughtful  breast, — 
 Solace  of  doom  so  hard.     Those  borderers,  awed 
 O'er  all  their  tract  by  prodigies  divine, 
 Shall  sanctify  thy  bones,  ordain  thy  tomb, 
 
OF    THE   JENEID.  213 
 
 And  pay  thee  graceful  obsequies,  and  mark 
 The  place  with  Palinure's  enduring  name." 
 These  gladsome  tidings  mitigate  in  part 
 His  care,  and  of  its  burthen  ease  his  breast, 
 Joy'd  that  the  land  still  cherishes  his  fame. 
 
 Thus  on  they  fare  ;  and  now  the  river's  verge 
 Have  well-nigh  gain'd:  whom  from  his  dolorous  wave 
 When  Charon  spies,  along  the  still  obscure 
 Advancing,  thus  with  harsh  salute  he  chides : 
 "  Whoe'er  thou  art,  that  darest  our  streams  invade, 
 What  brings  thee?  speak;  and  there,  ev'n  there, 
 
 repress 
 That  forward  foot !    This  is  the  place  of  Shades, 
 The  place  of  Slumber,  and  of  slumbrous  Night : 
 In  Stygian  boat  'twere  sin  to  waft  the  quick. 
 Nor  joy'd  this  lake  Alcides  on  her  breast, 
 Nor  Theseus  and  Pirithoiis,  to  receive ; 
 Tho'  glorious  visitants,  of  heavenly  seed 
 And  might  insuperable.     The  first  pursued, 
 (A  perilous  quest,)  the  guardian  of  hell-gate  ; 
 Clutch'd  him,  and  chain'd,  and  trembling  dragg'd 
 
 away 
 Ev'n  from  the  throne  imperial :  these  the  bride 
 Of  Dis,  perforce,  would  ravish  from  his  bed.,? 
 
214  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 To  whom  the  Amphrysian  priestess  brief  retum'd : 
 "  Here  are  no  frauds  like  those ;  dismiss  the  fear ; 
 Nor  here  the  sword  of  wrong.     Still,  in  his  den, 
 With  ceaseless  howl  let  that  huge  monster  watch 
 The  portal,  and  the*  unbodied  tribes  appal : 
 Still  let  the  chaste  Persephone  retain 
 Her  kindred  lord.     iEneas,  chief  of  Troy, 
 For  piety  renown'd,  and  bold  exploit, 
 Seeks,  in  this  nethermost  sojourn,  his  sire. 
 If  such  high  spectacle  of  filial  worth 
 Move  not  thy  mercy  ;  yet  this  branch,  (herewith 
 She  lifts  the  branch  embosom'd  in  her  stole,) 
 See,  and  approve !"    Strait  from  his  boiling  breast 
 Rage  ebbs :  she  adds  not.   He,  (with  glistening  eye 
 Still  fasten'd  on  that  venerable  boon, 
 That  fateful  bough,  so  long  unseen,)  his  barge, 
 Of  iron  hue,  works  on  with  brisk  approach. 
 Now  from  their  seats  the  long-drawn  line  of  souls 
 He  thrusts,  and  clears  the  hatches  ;  now  receives 
 The  mighty  man :  his  rush-wove  boat,  the  while, 
 Groans  with  unusual  weight ;  her  crannied  sides 
 Drink  largely  of  that  sluggish  wave.     At  last 
 The  Hierophant  and  hero  safe  he  lands 
 Amidst  unsightly  slime  and  lurid  sedge. 
 
OF    THE   iENEID.  215 
 
 These  realms  huge  Cerberus  with  trebled  yell 
 Makes  wide  resound,  stretch'd  in  his  fronting  den. 
 To  whom  the  priestess,  (for  she  mark'd  his  neck 
 Horrent  with  snakes,)  a  cate  of  temper'd  meal 
 Presents,  and  opiate  honey  :  he  thereat, 
 Opening  in  threefold  yawn  his  famish'd  maw, 
 Ingulphs  it ;  then  his  ridgy  back  uncurls, 
 Couchant  at  ease,  and  with  his  length  of  limbs 
 Fills  all  the  cave.  The  chief,  (its  guardian  quelPd,) 
 Seizing  the  gate,  leaves  rapidly  behind 
 The  marge  of  that  irremeable  wave. 
 
 Scarce  had  he  pass'd  the  portal,  ere  his  ear 
 Shrill  shrieks  assail'd ;  and  infant  shades  he  saw 
 Weeping ;  whom,  torn  untimely  from  the  breast, 
 Torn  from  the  sweets  of  life,  the  gloomy  hour 
 Surprised,  and  swallow'd  in  the  bitter  tomb  : — 
 Nigh  these,  who  died  by  lying  sentence,  dwell ; 
 Not  judgeless,  yet,  nor  lawless :  Minos  here 
 Shakes,  as  inquisitor,  his  urn,  convokes 
 The  silent  throng,  and  scans  each  life,  each  crime. 
 The  neighboring  haunt  is  theirs — a  cheerless  train 
 Who,  pure  of  guilt,  wrought  their  own  fate,  their 
 
 souls 
 Rendering  of  choice  and  loathing  light :  but  now 
 
216  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 Beneath  that  light  how  would  they  joy  to'  endure 
 Or  toil,  or  want,  or  ills  of  heavier  name ! 
 Stern  Fate  forbids  them,  and  the'  abhorred  pool 
 Confines  with  rueful  wave,  thrice  interfused. 
 
 Nor  far  those  plains,  "  of  Lamentation' 9  named, 
 Are  seen,  a  vast  expanse.     Here  those  who  died, 
 By  pining  love  slow-wasted, — piteous  lot, — 
 Lurk  in  their  unpierced walks,  o'erarch'dwith  bowers 
 Of  myrtle :  not  in  death  their  cares  expire. 
 Phaedra  was  here,  and  Procris ;  and,  to  these 
 Pointing  the  scars  a  ruthless  child  had  given, 
 Lorn  Eryphyle :  fond  Evadne,  too, 
 Pasiphae,  with  Laodamia  pair'd, 
 And  Caneus,  male  erewhile,  but  woman  now, 
 Her  pristine  form  by  Fate  once  more  devolved. 
 
 In  midst  of  these,  and  recent  from  her  wound, 
 Sidonian  Dido  thro'  the  woodland  wilds 
 Was  wandering.    Her  when  first  the  warrior  prince 
 Approach'd,  and  dimly  midst  the  dusk  descried  ; 
 (As  who  'twixt  opening  clouds  the  new-born  moon 
 Or  sees,  or  thinks  he  sees ;)  a  natural  tear 
 He  stole,  and,  touch'd  with  tenderness,  began : 
 "  Ill-fated  queen !  were  then  those  tidings  true, 
 That  told  thy  death,  hasten'd  by  violent  act  ? 
 
OF    THE    iENEID. 
 
 217 
 
 And  I  the  sad  occasion  ?     Oh,  by  heaven 
 I  swear,  and  heavenly  powers ;  by  all  that  here 
 Of  just  or  sacred  earth's  deep  womb  contains; 
 With  aching  breast  I  parted  from  thy  shores. 
 A  voice  divine,  (the  same  which  bids  me  now 
 These  shades  of  Stygian  night  explore,  these  tracts 
 Ragged  with  wilderness ;)  ev'n  then  my  flight 
 Prompted  with  strict  behest ;  nor  once  I  deem'd 
 That  flight  the  source  of  anguish  such  as  thine. 
 Oh  stay  thy  steps,  nor  yet  that  much-lov'd  form 
 Steal  from  these  eyes  !   This  interchange  of  speech, 
 — Whom  fiiest  thou  i — 'tis  the  last  our  fates  allow." 
 
 Such  words  he  sought  to  soothe  her.     She  the 
 while, 
 Kindling  with  ire,  and  glancing  stern  disdain, 
 Bends  on  the  ground  her  fix'd,  averted  eye, 
 By  those  impassion'd  accents  moved  no  more 
 Than  stubborn  flint  or  sculptured  rock  :  anon, 
 Incensed,  betakes  her  to  those  bowery  glades, 
 Where  fond  Sichaeus,  echoing  sigh  for  sigh, 
 Joins  in  her  cares,  and  all  her  love  requites. 
 
 Nor  less  the  chief,  pitying  her  cruel  fate, 
 With  many  a  tear  the  flying  form  pursues  j 
 
218  THE    SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 Then  speeds  his  course  prescribed.    And  now  they 
 
 gain 
 Those  extreme  borders,  peopled  by  the  brave. 
 Here  Tydeus,  there  Parthenopseus,  famed 
 In  fight,  came  obvious,  and  Adrastus'  shade 
 All  pale :  the  Dardans,  here,  deplored  in  light, 
 Fallen  by  the  chance  of  arms.    He  groans  at  heart, 
 Gazing  the  long  succession  :  Glaucus  there, 
 Thersilochus,  and  Medon ;  thy  three  sons, 
 Antenor ;  Polyphaetes,  priest  of  heaven  ; 
 And  good  Idaeus,  exercising  still 
 His  javelin,  still  his  visionary  car. 
 -I   Thick  or  to  right  or  left  the  phantoms  troop, 
 Wondering ;  nor  with  a  single  gaze  content, 
 Detain  him  long,  delighted,  or  attend 
 His  onward  footsteps,  curious  what  strange  cause 
 Urged  his  descent.    Meantime  the  lords  of  Greece, 
 The  war  of  Agamemnon,  when  they  spied 
 The  steel-clad  hero,  gleaming  thro*  the  gloom, 
 Shudder'd,  aghast  with  horror :  part  in  flight 
 Fall  back ;  as,  routed,  erst  they  sought  their  barks ; 
 Part  raise  a  slender  cry ;  the*  abortive  shriek 
 Dies  in  mid  gasp,  and  stifles  half  the  speech* 
 
OF    THE    JEKEID.  219 
 
 And  here  Deiphobus,  of  Priam  son, 
 He  views  ;  his  body  one  continuous  wound  ; 
 Hideously  gash'd  his  face,  his  face  and  hands ; 
 Spoil'd  of  each  ear ;   and  maim'd  the  nose,  and 
 
 marr'd 
 With  scars  inglorious.    Ill  the  friend  he  knew, 
 Coy,  and  his  barbarous  sufferance  fain  to  hide ; 
 Then  with  remember'd  accent  thus  moved  speech : 
 "  Deiphobus  !  undaunted  in  the  field, 
 High-born  of  Teucer's  blood  !  this  alter'd  plight 
 Who  could  inflict,  this  merciless  revenge  i 
 What  hand,  too  far  permitted  by  thy  fates  ? 
 Methought, — and  rife  the  rumour  spread, — that  thou, 
 In  that  last  night,  o'erspent  with  dealing  death 
 To  Greece,  thyself  hadst  crown'd  a  mingled  mass 
 Of  carnage.     Strait  thine  honorary  tomb 
 On  Rhaetium's  headland  height  I  rear'd,  and  thrice 
 With  clamorous  invocation  hail'd  thy  shade; 
 There  are  thine  arms,  thy  name  ;  the'  ennobled  soil 
 Preserves  them  sacred.    Thee,  dear  friend,  I  sought, 
 Vainly  I  sought;  nor  in  thy  natal  earth, 
 (Ere  thence  I  parted,)  laid  thy  limbs  at  rest." 
 
 Then  he  :  "  No  slighted  act  of  love  was  thine : 
 
220  THE    SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 To  fallen  Deiphobus  each  pious  due 
 
 Well  has  his  friend  absolved,  and  graced  my  shade. 
 
 But  me  my  fates  whelm'd  with  this  weight  of  woe, 
 
 And  Helen's  murtherous  fraudulence :  'twas  she 
 
 Impress'd  these  sad  memorials.    Well  thou  know'st, 
 
 (Too  well,  alas!  nor  ever  canst  forget!) 
 
 How  that  last  night  we  whiled  away  in  joys 
 
 Hollow  and  false ;  what  time  the  fatal  steed 
 
 Our  rampire  scaled,  tho'  turreted ;  and,  big 
 
 With  havoc,  teem'd  an  iron  soldiery. 
 
 She,  feigning  choral  measures,  led  with  song 
 
 And  shout,  (as  bacchanalian  orgies  wont,) 
 
 The  Phrygian  dames ;  herself,  their  midst,  upheld 
 
 A  beamy  brand,  and  to  their  spoil  the  foes 
 
 Call'd  loudly  from  the  topmost  citadel. 
 
 O'erlabour'd,  then,  and  sunk  with  slumb'rous  weight, 
 
 I  press' d  the  pillow ;  on  my  lids  had  fallen 
 
 A  sweet,  profound  repose, — image  of  death. 
 
 Meanwhile,  my  peerless  consort  from  the'  abode 
 
 All  arms,  the  trusty  falcion  from  my  couch, 
 
 Had  warily  withdrawn.     Sudden,  the  gates 
 
 Fly  wide ;  her  Argive  lord  she  leads  within  ; 
 
 Belike,  thro'  hope  so  fair  a  proof  of  love 
 
OF    THE    ^ENEID.  221 
 
 Might  bribe  his  wrath,  and  rase  the  memory 
 
 Of  wrongs,  now  antient.    What  need  words  ?    At 
 
 once 
 They  burst  upon  my  chamber ;  and,  with  them, 
 Ulysses,  curst  artificer  of  crimes  : — 
 Heaven  on  the  race  revisit  answering  ills, 
 If  pious  lips  the  recompense  demand  ! — 
 But  oh,  what  chance  hath  brought  thy  living  form  ? 
 Tell  me  in  turn  :  by  watery  wanderings  urged, 
 Comest  thou,  or  high  admonishment  of  heaven? 
 Or  what  the  fortune,  chasing  thee  from  day 
 To  visit  haunts  delightless,  unillumed 
 With  sunshine,  vex'd  with  turbulence  and  gloom  :" 
 
 Just  in  this  point  of  converse  ;  midway  borne 
 By  ruddy  coursers  o'er  the  travel'd  sky, 
 Aurora  rode :  and  haply,  all  the  hours 
 In  such  sweet  conference  had  stolen  away, 
 (The  hours  by  Fate  allotted;)  save  that  here 
 Brief  interposed  the  monitory  maid  : 
 "  Night  hastes,  iEneas  !    We  in  tears  and  plaints 
 The  granted  moments  lose.     'Tis  here  the  path 
 Diverges  twofold :  Pluto's  royal  towers 
 Rise  on  the  right ;  we  seek  Elysium  there  : 
 The  left  to  guilty  Tartarus  conducts, 
 
222  THE   SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 And  where  the  damn'd  are  disciplined  with  pains.'1 
 "  Oh  spare  thy  wrath,"  Deiphobus  replies, 
 "  Spare,  mighty  ministress  of  heaven!  I  go, 
 Rejoin  my  fellows,  fill  the  number 'd  throng, 
 And  seek  the'  accustom'd  glopms :  proceed,  my 
 
 friend, 
 Pride  of  our  race,  tho'  fallen  !  with  happier  fates 
 Proceed !"     He  said,  and,  midst  his  words,  withdrew. 
 
 Leftward  JEneas  glanced,  and  strait  descries, 
 Beneath  the'  o'erarching  rocks,  those  huge-built 
 
 towers 
 Girt  with  a  triple  wall ;  which  Phlegethon, 
 ( Infuriate  flood, )  with  waves  of  torrent  fire 
 Surrounding,  whirls  his  crashing  crags  along. 
 A  gate  stands  opposite,  enormous  pile, 
 Pillar'd  with  massive  adamant ;  which  no  might 
 Of  mortals  e'er  may  burst,  no  strength  of  steel 
 Plied  by  celestials.     High  to  heaven  ascends 
 That  iron  citadel ;  whose  porch  beside, 
 Unslumbering,  and  in  gory  pall  attired, 
 Tisiphone  sits  wardress  night  and  day. 
 Here  the  relentless  lash  and  dolorous  groan 
 *Gan  sound ;  the  clank  of  iron,  and  drag  of  chains. 
 iEneas  paused,  and  caught  with  hearkening  ear 
 
OF    THE    iENEID.  223 
 
 The  din  confused :   "  What  shapes  of  crime  are 
 
 these, 
 Virgin,  disclose  !  what  punishments,  what  plaints 
 Far  echoing  ln    "  Glorious  leader  of  thy  race, . 
 (Answers  the  gifted  maid,)  no  footing  chaste 
 Hath  right  to  penetrate  those  impious  bounds  : 
 But  me,  when  mistress  of  the'  Avernian  grove 
 She  made  me  first,  Hecate  herself  would  lead 
 Thro'  all  the  lore  of  heaven-inflicted  pains. 
 Those  regions  Cressian  Radamanthus  rules, 
 Regions  of  sorrow ;  guilt  of  every  name 
 Dooms  and  detects,  and  from  each  mouth  extorts 
 What  frauds  the  culprit,  midst  the  sons  of  light, 
 Joying  in  vain  dissemblance,  lengthen'd  out 
 To  death's  late  hour.     Instant  with  bitter  taunts 
 And  vengeful  scourge,  Tisiphone  torments 
 The  conscious  victim,  and,  with  grisly  snakes 
 Oft  threatening,  calls  her  fiendish  sisterhood. 
 
 "  Now  oped,  the*  accursed  doors  on  jarring  hinge 
 Grate  horrible.     The  vigilance  here  placed 
 Thou  seest ;  how  dire  a  visage  guards  the'  access : 
 Fiercer,  within,  is  lodged  a  Hydra  huge 
 With  yawning  throats  innumerable.     The  gulf, 
 Tartarean,  twice  as  deep  in  night  descends, 
 
224?  THE    SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 As  to  the*  ethereal  sky  thine  upward  gaze- 
 Here  that  original  race  of  earth,  the  brood 
 Of  Titan,  in  the  nethermost  abyss 
 Lie  weltering,  singed  by  lightning :  here  thy  sons, 
 Aloeus,  twinn'd,  I  saw;  gigantic  forms! 
 That  sought,  with  sinewy  strength,  to*  extirpate 
 
 heaven, 
 And  hurl  the  thunderer  headlong  from  his  throne. 
 Here,  too,  I  mark'd  Salmoneus,  suffering  sore, 
 While  the  slant  lightning's  forky  flash  he  mocks, 
 And  Jove's  authentic  voice.     By  coursers  pair'd 
 Charioted,  erst,  and  brandishing  a  flame, 
 Mid  Grecian  crowds,  and  towers  himself  had  rear'd, 
 Boastful  he  pass'd,  and  impiously  required 
 Prostration  due  to  heaven :  audacious  fool, 
 Who  with  the  tramp  of  brazen-footed  steeds 
 Belied  the'  inimitable  thunder-peal. 
 But  he,  the  sire  omnipotent,  a  bolt 
 Lancing  thro'  clouds  obscure,  (no  torches  he, 
 No  brands  of  fumy  gleam ! )  the  victim  dash'd, 
 Dash'd  with  the  sweepy  whirlwind  of  his  arm. 
 Tityus  I  next  beheld,  the  monster  son 
 Of  all-sustaining  Earth ;  his  limbs  outstretch'd 
 O'er  nine  whole  acres;  while,  with  tortuous  beak," 
 
OF    THE    -&NEID.  225 
 
 A  vulture,  huge  and  hideous,  inly  gnaws 
 
 His  ever-during  vitals,  ever  stored 
 
 With  penal  pangs ;  and  snuffs,  and  scoops  her  feast, 
 
 Ungorged,  and  riots  on  the  secret  heart ; 
 
 The  fibres,  new-born  still,  are  still  destroy'd, 
 
 "  That  rest  or  intermission  none  he  finds." 
 
 "  Need  I  those  Lapithan  adventurers  name, 
 Pirithous  and  Ixion  ?  o'er  whose  heads, 
 Tremblingly  pendulous,  a  dark-brow'd  rock 
 Projects,  as  now, — ev'n  now, — in  act  to  fall. 
 Beneath,  on  golden  pillars  propt  sublime, 
 Glitters  the  genial  couch  ;  and  banquets,  graced 
 With  pomp  imperial,  tempt  the  wistful  gaze ; 
 Close  at  their  side,  the  Fury  Queen  reclines, 
 A  scowling  guest ! — forbids  their  touch  to  mar 
 The*  untasted  board,  glares  with  uplifted  torch, 
 And  peals  with  thunderous  voice  the'  astounded  ear, 
 
 "  Here  they  that  loath'd  a  brother's  love,  that 
 smote 
 A  parent,  or  with  wiles  a  client  snared, 
 When  life  was  theirs ;  they  that  o'er  gather'd  wealth 
 Would  solitary  brood,  nor  midst  their  kin 
 Share  part, — a  sumless  concourse  !  they  that  fell, 
 Slain  in  adulterous  act,  whose  cause  was  urged 
 
 Q 
 
226  THE   SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 By  arms  unrighteous,  or  whose  fraudulent  hand 
 
 Rifled  their  lords ;  all  these,  in  durance  dire, 
 
 Vengeance  expect ;  what  vengeance — spare  to  ask, 
 
 Or  what  their  sad  varieties  of  pain. 
 
 Some  roll  a  huge  round  stone ;  with  joints  distent, 
 
 Some  to  the  spokes  of  wheels  are  hung ;  unblest 
 
 Sits  Theseus,  wedged  in  his  eternal  chair ; 
 
 While  to  the  rest,  preeminent  in  woe, 
 
 Phlegyas  his  loud  admonishment  resounds ; 
 
 "  Learn  justice,    taught  by  me !   and  revererfce 
 
 heaven !" 
 For  treasure  one  his  country  barter'd ;  throned 
 A  tyrant ;  made,  unmade,  as  bribes  impell'd, 
 His  venal  laws ;  one  from  a  daughter's  bed, 
 And  interdicted  spousals,  ill  abstain'd : 
 All  dared  huge   crimes,  and,  what  they  dared, 
 
 achieved. 
 Had  I  a  hundred  mouths,  a  hundred  tongues, 
 A  voice  of  brass;  yet  half  the  names  of  guilt, 
 Half  must  I  leave  untold  the  shapes  of  woe." 
 
 Thus  Phoebus'  aged  ministress :  "  But  haste," 
 She  adds,  "  oh  chieftain,  haste  we  to  prefer 
 The  destined  offering.     I  those  walls  descry, 
 Cast  in  Cyclopean  fires ;  those  obvious  gates, 
 High  overarch'd:  His  there  our  boon  we  lay." 
 
OF    THE   yENEID.  227 
 
 She  ended  speech  :  along  the  hollow  dark 
 Advancing  side  by  side,  the  mediate  space 
 They  to  the  dome  o'ershoot ;  whose  gate  the  chief 
 Seizing,  and  freshening  with  pure  lymph  his  frame, 
 Bright  in  the  onward  porch  suspends  the  bough. 
 
 And  now,   the   rites    perform'd,   the   gift  pre- 
 pared, 
 Fortunate  fields  they  enter,  green  retreats 
 Of  pleasant  groves,  the  region  of  the  blest. 
 Here  with  its  rosy  light  an  opener  heaven 
 Invests  the  scene :  stars  of  their  own  they  know, 
 And  their  own  sunshine.     Part,  in  grassy  lawns 
 Disporting,  exercise  their  limbs,  contest 
 The  prize,  and  wrestle  midst  the  yellow  sands. 
 Part  lead  the  nimbly-footed  dance,  and  breathe 
 Harmonious  numbers ;  chief,  the  Thracian  bard, 
 Attired  in  sweeping  vesture,  wakes  his  lyre 
 To  all  her  seven  diversities  of  sound ; 
 And  now  with  volant  finger  smites  her  chords, 
 And  now  with  ivory  bow.     Here,  too,  the  race, 
 The  primitive  race,  of  Teucer ;  goodly  forms 
 Of  generous  heroes,  born  in  happier  years  ; 
 Ilus,  Assaracus,  and  he,  of  Troy 
 The  famed  forefather,  Dardanus.     Their  arms, 
 
 Q2 
 
22S  THE    SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 And  aery  cars,  wondering  he  views  beyond ; 
 Their  upright  spears  fiVd  in  the  ground ;  the  steeds 
 Unhalter'd  graze  at  large.     Their  old  delight, 
 On  earth,  in  arms  and  chariots,  and  the  care 
 Of  shining  coursers,  haunts  them  still  below. 
 
 Others,  on  either  hand,  he  o'er  the  turf 
 Saw  feasting ;  and  in  many  a  choral  train 
 Warbling  the  festive  hymn,  midst  odorous  bowers 
 Of  laurel,  whence  Eridanus  to  light 
 Rolls  his  redundant  stream,  in  shades  conceaPd. 
 Here  they  who,  warring  for  their  country,  fell 
 Gash'd  with  the  scars  of  glory ;  here  were  priests 
 Of  life  unblemish'd;  pious  bards,  that  pour'd 
 Strains  worthy  Phoebus ;  they  whose  searching  skill 
 Had  cultured  life  with  added  arts,  and  who 
 Their  own  memorial  graft  on  fair  deserts. 
 All  these  their  brows  with  snowy  fillet  shade ; 
 And  these,  thick  circling,  now  the  priestess  haiPd ; 
 Musaeus,  chief;  for  he  their  midmost  stood, 
 And,  proudly  eminent,  o'erlook'd  the  crowd. 
 "  Say,  happy  spirits,  and  thou,  illustrious  bard, 
 What  region  holds  Anchises  ?  For  his  sake 
 We  the  broad  floods  of  Erebus  o'erpass'd." 
 Thus  she ;  and  thus  the  hero  brief  replied ; 
 
OF    THE   -ENEID.  229 
 
 "  None  here  hath  fixed  seat.    Umbrageous  glades 
 We  haunt ;  on  bowery  banks  repose,  and  meads 
 Freshen'd  with  rills.     But  ye,  (if  such  your  mind,) 
 Yon  slope  surmount ;  thence  will  I  mark  your  path." 
 This  said,  he  steps  before,  and  points  from  high 
 Those  sun-bright  plains ;  they  from  the  brow  descend. 
 Just  then  Anchises,  tranced  in  thought  profound, 
 Deep  in  a  verdurous  vale,  the  separate  throng 
 Of  spirits,  destined  to  these  upper  skies, 
 Survey'd ;  and  all  the  series  of  his  sons, 
 Their  fates,  their  fortunes,  characters,  and  high 
 Heroic  acts,  recounted  in  his  mind. 
 He,  when  he  spied  iEneas  o'er  the  green 
 Advancing  opposite,  his  parent  arms 
 Outstretch'd  with  fond  desire,  while  tears  his  cheek 
 Moisten'd,  and  from  his  lip  these  accents  fell : 
 "  Then  art  thou  come  ?  and  has  thy  duteous  love, 
 Long  to  thy  sire  approved,  endured  the  way, 
 Each  difficulty,  each  danger  I   Is  it  given 
 To  eye  my  dear  son  face  to  face  ?  to  hear 
 His  well-known  utterance,  interchanged  with  mine  ? 
 Such  thoughts,  in  truth,  I  nurtured  in  my  breast, 
 Computing  unborn  times ;  nor  now  has  hope 
 Deceived  me.    Oh,  wrhat  perils  hast  thou  scaped, 
 
230  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 What  long,  long  tracts  traversed,  of  land,  of  main, 
 Ere  given  to  bless  these  eyes !     How  did  I  fear 
 The  Lybian  realm  might  work  thee  loss  and  harm  t" 
 Then  he :  "  Thy  form,  my  sire,  thy  mournful  form, 
 Still  glaring,  urged  me  to  these  deep  abodes. 
 Moor'd  in  the  Tyrrhene  wave,  my  barks  are  left. 
 Give  me,  O  give  thy  fatherly  caress ; 
 Nor  steal  thee  from  my  gaze !"    He  said ;  his  eyes 
 Gush'd  largely ;  round  the  neck  he  thrice  essay'd 
 His  arms  to  wind ;  thrice,  vainly  sought,  the  shape 
 Their  circling  grasp  eludes ;  light  as  the  breeze, 
 Light  as  the  phantasm  of  a  fleeting  dream  ! 
 
 Meantime  iEneas  in  the  sinuous  vale 
 Marks  a  sequester'd  woodland,  thick  with  sprays 
 That  rustled  in  the  wind ;  and  there  the  stream 
 Of  Lethe,  visiting  with  languid  lapse 
 Those  calm  abodes.     Around  her  banks  the  shades 
 Innumerous  throng,  quick- wafting  to  and  fro : 
 As  bees  in  meadows,  all  a  summer's  day, 
 Each  floweret  press,  each  bed  with  lilies  white, 
 In  clusters :  busy  murmurings  hum  around. 
 The'  astonish'd  chief  starts  at  the  sudden  view, 
 And  asks  the  cause,  unknowing ;  what  yon  stream, 
 And  what  the  shadowy  tribes  that  crowd  her  marge. 
 
OP    THE   iENEID.  231 
 
 "  The  souls,"  Anchises  answers,  "  who  from  Fate 
 New  frames  expect,  to  that  Lethaean  sound 
 Repair,  and  large  oblivious  potions  quaff. 
 To  these,  evn  now,  fain  would  I  lead  thy  thought, 
 And  all  thy  destined  progeny  rehearse ; 
 So  shalt  thou  joy  the  more,  at  length  to  have  gain'd 
 The  Italian  coast."    "  What,  father,  can  a  soul 
 To  our  world  reascend,  and  yet  inspire 
 Her  sluggish  clay  ?  can  such  dire  lust  of  life 
 Beguile  the'  infatuate  wretches  J"  "  Hear,  my  son," 
 Pursues  the  sire,  "  I'll  teach  thee  all ;  nor  long 
 Hold  thee  suspense :"  then  thus  his  lore  unfolds. 
 "  Know,  first,  that  heaven  and  earth,  the  starry 
 cope, 
 The  moon's  resplendent  globe,  the  fluid  fields 
 
 Of  ocean, — one  great  spirit  inly  feeds ; 
 
 One  mind  informs  this  whole,  thro'  all  its  parts 
 
 Diffused,  and  agitates  the  mighty  mass. 
 
 Hence  human  kind,  and  brute  ;  hence  flitting  fowl, 
 
 And  all  the  monstrous  forms  that  Neptune  breeds 
 
 Beneath  his  limpid  element:  for  all 
 
 Are  emanations  of  the'  Omnific  Soul; 
 
 All  with  empyreal  energy  instinct : 
 
 Not  but  their  heaven-born  fire  the'  injurious  frame 
 
232  THE   SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 Of  mortal  flesh  inclouds,  and  earthy  joints. 
 
 Hence  they  rejoice  and  mourn,  desire  and  fear, 
 
 Nor  catch  heaven's  light,  prison' d  in  durance  dark. 
 
 Ev'n  when  the  fated  hour  arrives,  and  life 
 
 Retires ;  not  all  her  old  corruption  quits 
 
 The  wretched  soul,  not  all  her  corporal  ills : 
 
 But  rust  and  surf,  mysteriously  ingrain'd, 
 
 Has  gather'd  in  her  mould.     For  this,  are  all 
 
 With  penal  tortures  disciplined,  and  bear 
 
 The  vengeance  of  their  antient  crimes :  for  this, 
 
 Some  hang,  expanded,  to  the  viewless  winds ; 
 
 Others  in  fire  evaporate  the  guilt 
 
 Adhesive,  or  purge  off  in  ocean  wave  : 
 
 Till  Time,  his  full  orb  circled,  wear  away 
 
 Each  foul  incrustment,  and  the*  ethereous  sense 
 
 Leave  sheer,  the  fiery  quintessence  of  air. 
 
 These,  when  a  thousand  years  have  wheel'd  their 
 
 course, 
 To  Lethe's  verge,  at  Pluto's  high  behest, 
 Troop  numberless :  there  with  oblivion  drench'd, 
 They  to  the  lucid  vault  of  heaven  aspire 
 Once  more,  and  gradual  in  new  forms  ascend." 
 
 This  said,  Anchises,  midst  the  busy  crowds 
 Encircling,  leads  the  priestess  and  his  son : 
 
OF    THE   JENEID.  233 
 
 Then  takes  a  hilly  point,  whence  to  survey 
 
 In  utmost  line  the  multitude  below, 
 
 And,  as  each  pass'd,  his  lineaments  peruse. 
 
 "  Hear,  now,  what  glories  wait  the  Dardan  race, 
 What  sons  of  Latian  blood,  illustrious  souls, 
 Heirs  of  our  name,  in  oar  descent  ordain'd ! 
 Hear,  while  I  point  them,  and  thy  fates  disclose, 
 Seest  thou  the  youth,  that  o'er  his  regal  spear 
 Leans  yonder,  and  the  headmost  post  asserts 
 On  this  side  Light  ?    He,  to  the  coast  of  Day, 
 Of  all  the'  Italian  lineage  first  shall  rise : 
 Sylvius  his  name  ;  an  Alban  ;  whom  to  thee, 
 (Son  of  thine  age,)  Lavinia  late  shall  bear; 
 A  king,  and  father  of  a  kingly  line, 
 That  long  in  Alba  shall  our  sceptre  sway. 
 Next  him,  nor  less  conspicuous  midst  our  sons, 
 Stand  Procas,  Capys,  Numitor ;  and  he, 
 The  second  Sylvius,  named  of  thee ;  for  arms 
 Alike,  and  virtue,  famed, — if  but  at  length 
 He  win  his  Alban  throne.    Mark  well  these  youths  ; 
 What  strength,  what  spirit,  shines  in  every  front ! 
 But  they  whose  brows  with  civic  wreaths  of  oak 
 Are  shaded  j  they  with  towery  walls  shall  crown 
 Full  many  a  steep.     Hence  shall  Momentum  rise, 
 
T5/h  THE    SIXTH    BOOK 
 
 Collatia,  Gabii,  and  Fidenae ;  hence 
 
 Pometium ;  hence  the  fort,  of  Inuiis  named ; 
 
 And  Bola  hence,  and  Cora :  nameless  now 
 
 The  lands,  but  these  the  names  they  then  shall  bear : 
 
 Then  Romulus,  of  Mars  and  Ilia  sprung, 
 
 ( Ilia,  from  old  Assaracus  derived, ) 
 
 Shall  rise  to*  avenge  his  grandsire :  seest  thou  there 
 
 The  twofold  crest,  that  o'er  his  forehead  waves  ? 
 
 Seest  how  the  sovran  of  the  Gods,  ev'n  now, 
 
 Hath  sign'd  him  with  his  own  divinity  ? 
 
 ?Tis  he,  my  son,  beneath  whose  conduct  Rome, 
 
 (All-glorious  capital !)  shall  bound  with  earth 
 
 Her  empire,  her  ambition  with  the  stars ; 
 
 And  o'er  seven  hills  her  single  wall  extend : 
 
 Proud  of  her  generous  progeny !  as  she, 
 
 The  Berecynthian  dame,  with  turret  crown, 
 
 In  Phrygian  cities  charioted  sublime ; 
 
 Blest  with  her  hundred  sons  and  daughters,— all 
 
 Immortal,  all  promoted  to  the  skies ! 
 
 Now  fix  thy  gaze,  and  hither  turn :  survey 
 Thy  Romans  in  yon  group.     There  Julius ;  there 
 lulus !  long  succession,  mark'd  in  fate 
 Beneath  heaven's  ample  canopy  to  rise. 
 This,  this  is  he,  whose  promise  oft  thou  hear'** 
 
OF    THE    iENEID.  235 
 
 Blood  of  the  gods,  Augustus  !  He  once  more 
 In  Latium,  erst  by  Saturn  sway'd,  an  age 
 Of  gold  shall  rear ;  and  o'er  the  sons  of  Ind, 
 And  sons  of  Afric,  stretch  his  broad  domain  : 
 Regions,  that  lie  beyond  the  stars,  beyond 
 The  sun's  bright  march,  and  orbit  of  the  year  ; 
 Where  Atlas,  on  his  mighty  shoulder,  whirls 
 The  pillar'd  heaven,  with  stellar  fires  inlaid. 
 Awed  by  the  conqueror's  felt  approach,  ev'n  now 
 Maeotis,  and  the  Caspian  realms  afar, 
 Quake  with  horrific  oracles ;  ev'n  now 
 Nile  hears,  and  all  his  sevenfold  mouths  recoil ! 
 Not  famed  Alcides  ampler  tracts  o'erpass'd ; 
 Tho'  he  the  grisly  Hydra  scared,  the  deer 
 Of  brazen  hoof  transfix'd,  and  hush'd  the  woods 
 Of  Erymanth :  nor  Bacchus,  from  the  steep 
 Of  Nysa  guiding  his  triumphal  car 
 With  tigers  yoked,  and  vine-entwisted  reins. 
 And  doubt  we,  still,  by  many  a  bold  exploit 
 To'  eternize  empire  i  still  shall  fear  forbid 
 These  on  Ausonian  soil  to  build  our  world  ? 
 But,  yonder,  who  is  he,  with  olive  crown 
 Conspicuous,  robed  in  sacerdotal  stole  ? 
 His  locks  I  know,  and  hoary  beard  :  'tis  he, 
 
236  THE    SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 The  Roman  king,  who,  from  his  lowly  roof 
 
 Call'd  to  the  height  of  empire,  first  on  law 
 
 Shall  stablish  Rome.     Tullus  comes  next  behind, 
 
 Born  to  disturb  his  country's  deep  repose, 
 
 And  rouse  in  arms  the  slumbering  citizen, 
 
 To  triumphs  long  disused.     To  him  succeeds 
 
 Ancus,  vain-glorious  prince  !  too  well,  ev'n  here, 
 
 Pleased  with  the  gale  of  popular  applause. 
 
 Next  wouldst  thou  see  the  Tarquins,  royal  shades  ? 
 
 And  proud  avenging  Brutus,  girt  with  pomp 
 
 Stript  from  abolish'd  monarchy  ?    He,  first, 
 
 The  menacing  rods  of  consular  command 
 
 Shall  bear :  a  father,  he,  (  unhappy  man ! ) 
 
 His  rebel  sons  shall  summon  to  their  fate 
 
 For  the  dear  sake  of  beauteous  liberty ! 
 
 In  him,  (howe'er  posterity  regard 
 
 His  action,)  patriot  ardour  shall  be  seen 
 
 Superiour,  and  the'  insatiate  thirst  of  praise. 
 
 The  Decii,  next,  and  Drusi  view ;  nor  less 
 
 Torquatus,  arm'd  with  unrelenting  axe, 
 
 Nor  less  Camillus  bearing  off  the  field 
 
 Standards  and  spoil.    Yon  shades,  that,  side  by  side* 
 
 In  kindred  mail  stand  glistering,  link'd  in  love 
 
 While  here  detain'd ;  how  will  they  chafe  and  war, 
 
OF    THE   JE^Elt>.  237 
 
 If  e'er  they  touch  the  land  of  light !  what  fields 
 Display,  what  deeds  of  death !  while  this  descends 
 Fierce  from  the  ridgy  Alps  ;  and  that,  begirt 
 With  orient  legions,  waits  his  foe  beneath. 
 But  oh,  my  sons,  urge  not  the  horrid  strife  ! 
 Nor  'gainst  your  country's  bleeding  bosom  point 
 Your  puissant  arms  !  Thou,  chiefly,  thou  that  draw'st 
 From  heaven  and  me  thy  lineage,  cease,  rash  youth, 
 Fling  from  thy  hand  the  sanguinary  sword ! 
 
 "  He  to  the  capitol  shall  proudly  ride, 
 Flush'd  with  Corinthian  carnage  :  Argos  he, 
 And  all  the  realm  by  Agamemnon  sway'd, 
 Shall  storm ;  nor  ev'n  iEacides,  the  blood 
 Of  dread  Achilles,  spare ;  avenging  thus 
 Troy's  havoc,  and  Minerva's  injured  fane. 
 Thee,  Cossus,  who  with  heedless  eye  may  pass  ? 
 Or  thee,  great  Cato  ?  who  the  Gracchi  ?  who 
 The  Scipios,  each  a  thunderbolt  of  war, 
 Terror  of  Afric  each !  Fabricius,  too, 
 Majestic  ev'n  in  lowliness  ;  and  thee, 
 Brave  Cincinnatus,  bending  o'er  thy  plough  > 
 Where  shall  I  rest,  exhausted  as  I  am, 
 Ye  Fabii,  where  ?  thou,  Maximus,  art  he 
 Who,  sole,  by  timely  lingering  savest  our  all ! 
 
238  THE   SIXTH   BOOK 
 
 Others,  with  softer  touch,  the  breathing  brass 
 Shall  sculpture;  others,  (we  the  palm  resign,) 
 Shall  mould  the  featured  marble  into  life ; 
 Jn  matchless  eloquence  shall  plead ;  or  trace 
 With  learned  wand  the  mazy  paths  of  heaven, 
 And  antedate  the  stars :  but,  Roman,  thine, 
 Thine  be  the  care  to  sway  the  subject  world ; 
 These  be  thy  arts ; — to  dictate  peace,  or  war ; 
 To  spare  the  suppliant,  and  o'erbear  the  proud  I" 
 
 Anchises  paused ;  then  to  the  wondering  pair 
 Thus  added :   "  Mark  where,  bright  with  noblest 
 
 spoils, 
 Marcellus  moves :  his  warrior-like  deport 
 O'er  all  the  crowd  how  eminent  it  shines. 
 He,  in  a  troublous  age,  shall  hush  misrule ; 
 The  Punic  host  shall  quell,  the'  insurgent  Gaul ; 
 And,  third  and  last  of  all  the  sons  of  Rome, 
 Hang  with  his  captured  arms  Quirinus'  fane*" 
 iEneas,  here,  (for  at  Marcellus'  side 
 A  youth  he  mark'd  of  graceful  form,  array'd 
 In  gleaming  armour,  but  of  downcast  eye 
 And  pensive  mien : )  "  What's  he,  my  sire,  the  youth 
 Pair'd  with  yon  hero  shade  ?  his  son  ?  or  who 
 Of  our  unnumber'd  progeny  ?  what  shouts, 
 
OF    THE   iEXEID.  239 
 
 What  plausive  shouts,  his  clustering  fellows  raise ! 
 How  all  the  father  in  his  features  lives ! 
 But  hovering  Night  o'ercasts  his  gloomy  brow." 
 To  whom,  with  tears,  Anchises :  "  O  my  son, 
 Forbear  to  search  the  sorrows  of  thy  race ! 
 That  youth  his  envious  Fates  shall  scarce  disclose, 
 Then  snatch  from  earth.     Too  prosperous  in  thy 
 
 sight, 
 Heaven,  had  our  Rome  appear'd,  might  she  her  own 
 Have  boasted  gifts  like  these.  What  weeping  crowds, 
 Pour'd  from  her  mighty  walls,  shall  fill  the  plain 
 Sacred  to  Mars!  what  funeral  pomp  shalt  thou, 
 Old  Tiber,  witness  ;  while  thou  leadst  thy  wave 
 Hard  by  that  new-raised  monument!  No  youth, 
 Of  all  our  issue,  to  such  height  of  hope 
 Shall  lift  the  sires  of  Latium  ;  none  beside 
 Rome  shall  with  equal  pride  her  nurseling  own. 
 For  oh,  what  virtue  there  !  what  pristine  faith  ! 
 There  what  an  arm  in  fight !  Who,  unrevenged 
 May  brave  that  front  ?    Matchless,  or  when  his  feet 
 Bear  him  in  furious  charge ;  or  when  he  plies 
 The  fiery  steed  with  rowels  dyed  in  gore. 
 Lamented  youth  !  if  e'er  harsh  Fate  relent, 
 Thou,  too,  shalt  be  Marcellus.     Bring  me  sheaves 
 
240  THE    SIXTH   BOOK   OF   THE   iENEID. 
 
 Of  lilies ;  cull  me  many  a  purple  flower  ; 
 Let  me,  at  least,  with  such  poor  honours  crown 
 His  shade9  my  son's  dear  shade,  and  pay  his  dues 
 Tho'  fruitless  !" — Thus,  with  diligent  survey, 
 On  thro'  the  spacious  fields  of  air  they  rove : 
 And  when  Anchises  o'er  each  scene  had  led 
 The'  observant  chief,  and  fired  his  soul  with  thirst 
 Of  future  fame ;  the'  approaching  wars  he  tells, 
 Tells  the  Laurentian  tribes,  Latinus'  town, 
 And  what  must  yet  be  shunn'd,  and  what  atchieved. 
 
 The  gates  of  Sleep  are  twofold  :  one  supposed 
 Of  horn  ;  the  same  that  gives  authentic  shades 
 Quick  egress  ;  one  with  polish'd  ivory  bright, 
 Where  from  below  false  phantoms  rise  to  day. 
 Thro'  this,  Anchises,  ending  large  discourse, 
 Sends  forth  the  priestess  and  his  son.     The  chief 
 Straight  to  the  navy  speeds  his  way;  and  there 
 His  train  rejoining,  seeks  with  onward  sail 
 Cajeta's  port.     Their  anchors  o'er  the  prow 
 Are  thrown  ;  along  the  beach  their  sterns  repose. 
 
241 
 
 TO   MY   FATHER. 
 
 "  Et  vos,  o  nostri,  juvenilia  carmina,  lusus, 
 Forsitan  has  laucies,  decantatumque  parentis 
 Nomen,  ad  cxempluin,  sero  servabitis  aevo." 
 
 Milton  us  ad  Patrem. 
 
 Ah,  have  I  pour'd  so  many  a  truant  lay, 
 
 Since  first  my  dreams  of  poesy  begun, 
 Pour'd  for  each  meaner  friend  ?  and  shall  I  pay 
 
 To  thee,  my  loved,  my  honour'd  Father,  none? 
 
 — Haste,  let  me  blend  the  poet  with  the  son ; 
 No  more  let  filial  feeling  plead  in  vain, 
 
 Lovelier  than  aught  by  flaunting  Fancy  won : 
 Shall  that  dear  life  its  heavenly  rest  attain, 
 Ere  I  have  given  thine  age  one  solitary  strain  ? 
 
 Yet  were  it  worth  some  loud  and  living  lyre, 
 
 (Too  faint  the  flame  which  Heaven  apportions 
 mine,) 
 To  memorise,"yea  bid  the  world  admire, 
 
 R 
 
242  TO    MY   FATHER. 
 
 A  mind,  a  life,  so  excellent  as  thine ; 
 
 Where  honor,  clear  as  summer's  noontide  shine, 
 Where  purity,  as  virgin  thoughts  refined, 
 
 And  faith  and  hope  and  charity  divine, 
 And  manners,  artless  as  man's  elder  kind, 
 A  bright  assemblage,  dwell,  as  in  their  temple  shrined. 
 
 But  these  thy  virtues  shun  the  world's  broad  eye, 
 Like  violets  breathing  amidst  hedgerow  gloom ; 
 
 And  we,  that  share  thy  household  privacy, 
 Are  all  that  see  them  in  their  silent  bloom, 
 Tho'  many  a  stranger  bless  the  felt  perfume : 
 
 Enough  for  thee,  who  seek'st  not  glory  thine, 
 Or  seek'st  thy  glory  but  beyond  the  tomb : 
 
 And,  hence,  what  recks  it,  Father,  if  no  line 
 
 Blazon  on  earth  a  name,  reserved  in  heaven  to  shine  ? 
 
 Oh,  hapless  they,  whose  hopes,  all  grovelling  here, 
 All  prison'd  in  their  own  poor  nook  of  time, 
 
 Pierce  not  the'  invisible,  immortal  sphere  ! 
 
 But  thine  have  long  been  travelling  to  that  clime, 
 Forerunners  of  thyself;  thy  soul  sublime 
 
 Views  earth,  ev'n  here,  as  half  behind  thee  hurPd  : 
 Thus  blest,  above  all  eloquence  of  rhyme, 
 
TO    MY    FATHER.  243 
 
 Now  that  thy  sun  is  westering  fast,  yon  world 
 Retiring, heaven  at  hand,  the  curtain  well-nigh  furl'd! 
 
 For  where  is,  now,  thy  backward  life  ?  Oh,  where 
 
 Those  seventy  stealing  winters  ? — with  the  stream 
 Glided  away,  or  mist  dispersed  in  air : 
 
 Boyhood,   and  youth,  and  manhood,  how  they 
 seem, 
 
 Athwart  the  slope  of  years,  a  shadowy  dream, 
 A  feverish  fancy,  or  well-feign'd  romance  ! — 
 
 But  hence  with  poring  melancholy's  theme  ! 
 Far  other  scenery  wooes  thine  onward  glance ; 
 Substantial,  boundless  all,  no  visionary  trance. 
 
 There  thy  true  life,  thy  proper  world, -shall  ope; 
 
 There  shall  no  sin  thy  soaring  thoughts  controul ; 
 There  He,  who,  unseen,  fired  thy  faith  and  hope, 
 
 Shall  fill  with  all  his  fulness  all  thy  soul, 
 
 The  Savior  God !  there  at  its  glorious  goal 
 Thine  every  wish,  delighted,  shall  repose ; 
 
 There,  while  heaven's  ages  ever-circling  roll, 
 Thou  with  sweet  spirits  shalt  converse,  and  those 
 Who  loved  thee  here,  but  there — whose  love  what 
 mortal  knows ! 
 
 r2 
 
244  TO    MY   FATHER* 
 
 Yes,  in  that  unimaginable  bliss 
 
 May  all  our  little  company  appear ! 
 Nor  thou,  amidst  them,  one  sad  wanderer  miss ; 
 
 But,  gazing  round  thee,  shout,  with  rapturous  tear, 
 
 "  Me  and  my  children,  Lord, — behold  us  here !" 
 May  none  for  pleasure,  beckoning  siren,  swerve 
 
 From  that  best  path  which  won  our  sire's  career; 
 But  each  thine  image  livingly  preserve, 
 Each,  in  thy  heavenward  steps,  press  on  with  trem- 
 bling nerve ! 
 
 And  him,  who  hails  thy  birth's  returning  day, 
 (Too  fond,  perchance,  of  Poesy's  sweet  lore,) 
 
 Oh,  let  not  Fancy's  witchcraft  him  betray ! 
 Where  will  be,  then,  whate'er  her  sons  adore, 
 When  Earth  rolls  back,  Eternity  hangs  o'er  ? 
 
 Let  me,  content  in  quiet  worth  to  shine, 
 
 With  thee  the  walk  of  life,  of  death,  explore  ; 
 
 My  youth,  mine  age,  my  destiny,  like  thine : — 
 
 Be  aught  beside  the  world's ;  but  this  I  'd  ask  for 
 mine. 
 
 April  2, 1815. 
 
245 
 
 VANITY   OF  FAME. 
 
 ;  Laudis  amore  tomes?—  sunt  certa  piacula."      Hor. 
 
 How  is  it  that  this  lust  of  Fame, 
 This  craving  for  an  after  name, 
 
 Aches  ever  at  my  heart  ? 
 That  still  I  sigh, — the  glorious  lot 
 Where  Southey  sits  enthroned  with  Scott, 
 
 Oh,  were  it  mine  in  part ! 
 
 Yet  were  it, — what  were  I  more  blest, 
 By  Love,  by  Friendship,  more  caress'd, 
 
 More  charm' d  by  wild-walk  views  ? 
 Would  life  with  gentler  current  steal  ? 
 Should  I  new  sweets  in  Picture  feel, 
 
 Or  Music,  or  the  Muse  ? 
 
 And  oh,  when  comes,  in  all  its  power, 
 That  unimaginable  hour ; 
 
 When  Grief  sits  trembling  by ; 
 
246  VANITY   OF    FAME. 
 
 When  all  is  dim  and  dizzy  round, 
 And  speech  and  sense  and  soul  are  drown'd, 
 In  Death's  dread  victory ; 
 
 Oh,  think, — while  fades  this  total  sphere,— 
 How  vain,  how  vile,  will  then  appear 
 
 All  glory  won  below ! 
 All  glory,  save  what  God  decrees ! 
 Will  other  hope  to  heavenlike  ease 
 
 Turn  hell's  foreboded  woe  ? 
 
 Or  will  it  a  new  death-pang  raise, 
 That,  closing  thus  my  list  of  lays, 
 
 (Lays,  innocent,  if  light,) 
 I  look'd  on  Fame  with  calm  regard, 
 And,  smiling,  thought, — Shame  sink  the  Bard, 
 
 The  Man  has  hopes  as  bright ! 
 
 For,  when  these  limbs  in  earth  are  spread ; 
 When,  disenthraled,  the  spirit's  fled 
 
 To  worlds  unlike  her  own ; 
 What  were  it  then  to  me,  though  rung 
 My  blazon  here  on  many  a  tongue  ? — 
 
 To  me  'twere  all  unknown. 
 
VANITY    OF    FAME.  24"? 
 
 Still,  as  to-day,  when  I  am  low, 
 
 These  heavens,  this  earth,  in  summer  glow 
 
 Will  unconcern'dly  smile ; 
 Yea,  some  last  lingering  friend  may  tell, 
 "  'Twas  here,  the  walk  he  loved  so  well ;" — 
 
 But  I  shall  rest,  the  while. 
 
 Then  why,  with  such  a  wistful  view, 
 This  meteor  thing,  this  Fame,  pursue, 
 
 Too  shadowy  for  my  grasp  ? 
 More  natural,  more  substantial  prize 
 The  slave  of  Wealth  or  Pleasure  buys 
 
 With  less  of  ache  and  gasp. 
 
 Win  Fame  ?  is  this  my  heartless  scope  ? 
 No ;  let  me  nurse  the  home-felt  hope, 
 
 To  soothe  some  kindred  mind  : 
 And,  sure,  beyond  ev'n  Fortune's  power, 
 I  'ave  met  my  meed,  in  many  an  hour 
 Of  quiet  joy  refined. 
 
 Win  Fame?  let  others  :  if  I  could,— 
 To  live  obscurely  blest  and  good, 
 
248  VANITY   OF    FAME, 
 
 I  *d  deem  a  worthier  aim  : 
 Kindness,  and  purity,  and  faith, 
 And  useful  toil,  and  peaceful  death, — 
 
 These,  these  are  more  than  fame. 
 
 THE  END. 
 
 Printed  by  S.  Hamilton,  Weybridge,  Surrey. 
 
THE 
 
 OMNIPRESENCE 
 
 GOD: 
 
 OTHER  SACRED  POEMS. 
 
 "SI    IPSIUS   PoESEOS   ULTIMA  RATIO  QUJERATUR,  ADRELIGIONEM  OMNJX0> 
 VIDETUR    REFERENDA."—  LOWTH. 
 
 BY 
 
 The  Rev.  THOMAS   GRIN  FIELD,  M.  A. 
 
 Late  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
 
 Bristol : 
 
 PRINTED  AND  PUBLISHED  BY  J.  CHILCOTT. 
 
 AXD    SOLD    EY 
 
 BALDWIN,  CRADOCK,  AND  JOY,  AND  SEELEY  AND  SON,  LONDON; 
 UPHAM,    COLLINGS,    AND    BINNS,    BATH. 
 
 1824. 
 
ACCEPT  THIS  HUMBLE  OFFERING,  LORD! 
 PART  IS  THINE  OWN,  THY  MATCHLESS  WORD  ; 
 AND  PART  WOULD  FAIN  EXHALE  DESIRES 
 THY  SPIRIT  IN  THE  HEART  INSPIRES. 
 IF  AUGHT  OF  ERROR  LURK  EXPRESS'D, 
 FORGIVE  IT,  LORD,  AND  BLESS  THE  REST! 
 OH,  IF  THY  BLESSING  CROWN  THE  LAYS, 
 ENOUGH  ;— THEY  COURT  NOT  EARTHLY  PRAISE. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 AVlTH  respect  to  the  following  pieces,  little  need 
 be  premised  by  the  author.  They  have  been  the 
 recreations  of  a  mind  habitually  intent  on  severer 
 studies  ; — they  have  risen  up  as  exhalations  of 
 thought  and  feeling  that  would  not  always  be  sup- 
 pressed without  utterance  of  this  kind  ;  or  like  the 
 blossoming  of  spring  flowers  in  autumn, — occasional 
 returns  of  youthful  efflorescence  after  the  sunny 
 season  had  departed.  The  collection  has  un- 
 suspected ly  grown  into  its  present  size  from  the 
 compositions  of  different  periods,  produced  under 
 the  impulse  of  passing  associations,  and  in  general 
 with  no  intention  of  publicity ;  "  pour  satisfaire  a 
 Tinspiration  interieure  dont  fame  est  saisie."  A 
 few  illustrative  notes  have  been  inserted ;  and  the 
 references  marked  to  similar  sentiments  of  Holy 
 
VI. 
 
 Scripture,  as  appropriate  to  Poems  professedly  sa- 
 cred, and  not  uninteresting  to  the  congenial  reader. 
 The  author  is  conscious  that  the  whole  can  be  re- 
 garded merely  as  a  mite  cast  into  that  treasury  of 
 Sacred  Poetry,  which  (too  much  neglected  as  it  has 
 been)  has  received  so  many  far  richer  offerings.  But, 
 whatever  may  be  the  execution  or  reception  of  this 
 little  volume,  he  secures  a  satisfaction  in  reflecting 
 that  the  scattered  portions  of  time  and  thought 
 which  it  has  engaged,  have  been  in  some  measure 
 hallowed ;  and  that  its  tendency  is  to  elevate  the 
 reader's  mind  from  "the  things  which  are  seen 
 and  temporal"  to  "  the  things  which  are  unseen 
 and  eternal." 
 
VII. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 The  Omnipresence  of  God  :  a  Sacred  Poem. . . , 3 
 
 SACRED  POEMS. 
 
 PART  I.— ORIGINAL  PIECES. 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS. 
 
 Monitory  Recollections  on  a  New-Year's  Day ♦ . . .  29 
 
 Heaven  Illustrated  by  Earth 36 
 
 Present  Knowledge,  contrasted  with  Future    44 
 
 Jesus  Christ,  the  Comforter  of  Disquietude 52 
 
 Lines  in  the  Night 60 
 
 The  Starry  Heavens    64 
 
 Devotional  Apostrophe 67 
 
 HYMNS. 
 
 The  Sabbath 68 
 
 The  Nativity 72 
 
 The  Eucharist 75 
 
 Expostulation  with  Pride 76 
 
 Consecration  of  the  Heart  to  God    SO 
 
 The  Necessity  and  Sufficiency  of  Divine  Grace SI 
 
 On  Reading  the  Bible S3 
 
Vlll. 
 
 PIECES  FOUNDED  ON  SCRIPTURE  IMAGERY. 
 
 The  Brook  and  the  Fountain  :  a  Comparison 83 
 
 The  Eagle  and  the  Hen  :  Another 86 
 
 Gideon's  Fleece  :  an  Emblem 87 
 
 The  Anchor  of  Hope :  an  Aspiration 88 
 
 OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 
 
 A  Farewell  Sentiment 89 
 
 Lines  at  Parting 91 
 
 On  leaving  an  endeared  Sea-side  Scene 92 
 
 On  the  Death  of  a  Lady 93 
 
 Reflections  on  Marriage 94 
 
 Inscription  in  a  Bathing  Machine 160 
 
 Another,  on  a  Prospect-seat 101 
 
 Ad  Patrem  Senescentem 101 
 
 Ad  Matrem 104 
 
 Lines  written  after  a  Walk  to  Kingsweston 106 
 
 PART  II.— SPECIMENS  OF  SCRIPTURE  POETRY. 
 OLD  TESTAMENT. 
 
 Song  of  Moses  at  the  Red-Sea,  Exod.  xv. 113 
 
 before  his  Death,  Deut.  xxxii. 117 
 
 His  Last  Words,  Deut.  xxxiii 12£ 
 
 The  Redeemer,  Job  xix 127 
 
 The  War-Horse,  ibid,  xxxix 128 
 
 The  Divine  Shepherd,  Psalm  xxiii 130 
 
 The  Saint's  Repose  in  God,  Psalm  lxxiii .....,*...  132 
 
 The  Beauty  of  the  Sanctuary,  Psalm  lxxxiv ,  135 
 
 Praise  of  the  Divine  Goodness,  Psalm  ciii ,*.,..  138 
 
 The  Deliverance  of  Israel,  Psalm  cxiv 142 
 
 The  Divine  Omnipresence  &  Omniscience,  Psalm  cxxxix.  145 
 
 Proclamation  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  Majesty  of  God,  149 
 
 Isai.  xl.  . . .   .................................... 
 
IX. 
 
 The  Glory  of  the  Church,  in  the  Accession  of  the  Gentiles, 
 
 Isai.  lx. 154 
 
 NEW  TESTAMENT. 
 
 The  Lord's  Prayer,  Matt,  vi 158 
 
 Vain  Anxiety  Repressed,  ibid 159 
 
 Present  Sufferings,  contrasted  with  Future  Glory, Rom.  viii  162 
 The  Christian  Triumphant  through  the  Love  of  God  in 
 
 Christ,  ibid 175 
 
 The  Change  of  the  Body,  1  Cor.  xv 1GG 
 
 The  Saint  Supported  in  Trouble  by  the  Prospect  of  Celes- 
 tial Glory,  2  Cor.  iv.  &  v 167 
 
 The  Divine  Panoply,  Ephes.  vi 171 
 
 The  Terrors  of  the  Law,  contrasted  with  the  Glories  of 
 
 the  Gospel,  Heb.  xii 172 
 
 The  Choir  of  Christian  Graces,  2  Peter  i 176 
 
 The  Church  in  Heaven,  Rev.  vii 177 
 
 The  New  Jerusalem,  ibid,  xxi 181 
 
 The  Closing  Vision,  ibid.  xxi.  S:  xxii 182 
 
 Stanzas  "Written   on  the   Death   of  the  Rev.    Cornelius 
 
 Neale,  M.  A 185 
 
 Notes  on    '  the  Omnipresence  of  God" 16S 
 
ANALYSIS. 
 
 Lines. 
 
 Introduction  and  Invocation, 1 
 
 Matter  and  spirit  compose  the  universe    30 
 
 Matter,  essentially  inert,    can   derive  its   motion   only 
 
 from  spirit ;  and  that  spirit,  infinite •  •     43 
 
 Semblance  of  Omnipresence  even  in  the  human  mind,  78 
 Spirituality  and  Unity,  essential  to  Omnipresence,  ....  102 
 Extraordinary  instance  of  spiritual  presence  in  inspired 
 
 men,   125 
 
 Body  intercepts  our  view  of  surrounding  spirits,    151 
 
 Absolute  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity  in  his  works,      169 
 
 In  ourselves  especially, 20  L 
 
 Individual  Application, 216 
 
 Emblematic  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity 243 
 
 His  visible  presence  on  Sinai, 268 
 
 The  Omnipresence  of  God,  like  all  his  Attributes,  can 
 
 be  duly  understood  only  through  the  Redeemer,    . .  283 
 Thus  understood  by  Patriarchs  and  Prophets,   before 
 
 the  Incarnation, 300 
 
 By  Apostles  at  the  time, 323 
 
 By  devout  Christians  ever  since,     340 
 
 Communion  with  God,  essential  to  happiness, 375 
 
 His  Presence,  as  it  operates  in  heaven 410 
 
 Contrast  of  his  Presence  as   the  source   of   misery   in 
 
 heH>    433 
 
 The   superiority   of  angelic   perceptions   to  ours;    and 
 the    consummate   view    of    the   Divine    attributes, 
 
 reserved  for  the  heavenly  state, 455 
 
 Prospect  of  heaven, 495 
 
 Apostrophe  to   Milton,   as   the   representative  of    Sa- 
 cred Poetry,     ..,.,,..., 511 
 
THE 
 
 OMNIPRESENCE  OF  GOD. 
 
 A  SACRED  POEM. 
 
 DO  NOT  I   FILL  HEAVEN  AND  EARTH?      SAITH  JEHOVAH." 
 
 OH  for  some  arm  of  might,  to  heave  the  weight 
 
 That  clogs  the  struggling  spirit,  and  to  burst 
 
 These  earthly  chains  that  manacle  her  tongue ! 
 
 While  with  a  seraph  wing  she  longs  to  range 
 
 And  revel  in  Immensity ;  she  longs,  5 
 
 Triumphant  o'er  mortality  and  sin, 
 
 Like  the  brave  eaglet  re-asserting  heaven, 
 
 To  spurn  each  narrowing  circumstance,  and  plunge 
 
 Into  the  shoreless,  fathomless  abyss 
 
 Of  Omnipresence. — Hence,  ye  airy  dreams  10 
 
 Of  Castaly,  ye  Mus.es,  woo'd  so  oft 
 
 By  fabling  bards  !  ye  cannot  aid ;  away  ! 
 
 'Tis  holy  ground ;  ye  may  not  enter  here. 
 
 But  Thou,  celestial  Power,  unfabled  Muse, 
 
 B 
 
Before  Whose  bright  magnificence,  unveil' d         15 
 To  ancient  seers,  the  pomp  of  pagan  lore 
 Fades  to  a  sickly  twilight ;  Thee  I  call, 
 With  silent  earnestness,  on  bended  knee  ; 
 Spirit  Divine,  inspire  me !    every  gift, 
 Perfect  and  pure,  from  Thee  alone  descends  :     20 
 So  to  Thyself, — for  oh  !  'tis  all  Thine  own,— 
 Not  to  thy  creature,  be  the  power  and  praise ! 
 
 A  man,  an  embryo  of  eternity, 
 A  subject  of  redemption !  fain,  e'en  here, 
 In  this  my  being's  infancy,  this  hour  25 
 
 Of  seizing  that  eternity  redeemed, 
 Thus  would  I  mar  interminable  themes 
 With  song,  and,  though  like  lisping  childhood,  try 
 Some  prelude  to  the  harmonies  of  heaven. 
 
 Rise  then,  my  soul;  thy  comprehensive  eye 30 
 Stretch  o'er  the  pregnant  universe,  around, 
 Above ;  nor  only  where  it  meets  thy  sense, 
 Partial  and  dim ;  but  much  more  as  it  dawns, 
 Uncurtain'd  and  enlarg'd,  in  that  bright  book 
 Dropt  like  a  sun-beam  on  a  darkling  world.-—    35 
 
Spirit  and  matter  share  the  wondrous  whole, 
 
 Monopolists  of  nature  ;  thee  too,  man, 
 
 Lord  of  thy  little  world,  a  world  thyself, 
 
 A  universe  modell'd  in  miniature. 
 
 The  book  of  being  in  thyself  thou  read'st,  40 
 
 Incarnate  spirit ;  read'st  that  primal  truth, 
 
 The  Spirit,  Omnipresent,  of  thy  God. 
 
 For  mark,  'tis  all  by  energy  of  mind, 
 Xear  or  remote,  that  matter  moves  ;  inert 
 Itself,  unconscious,  dead.     However  swift,        45 
 Swift  as  the  darts  of  light,  wing  d  as  thy  thoughts  ; 
 'Tis  passive  all ;  its  motion  argues  mind. 
 Its  motion,  mere  effect,  infers  a  cause. 
 Upward  from  cause  to  cause  perforce  we  rise, 
 Till  at  the  topmost  we  repose ;  the  prime,  50 
 
 Ultimate  Mover  of  the  moving  whole. 
 All  immaterial  He,  as  all  unmov'd. 
 Matter  and  motion  preach  a  Deity  ; 
 That  Deity,  a  Spirit ;  infinite, 
 Uncircumscrib'd  by  matter :  matter  still,  55 
 
 E'en  in  its  vastest  forms,  confesses  form 
 
6 
 
 And  boundary :  formless  and  unbounded  He, 
 
 Being  of  beings !  Omnipresent  God ! 
 
 He,  who  pervades  all  space,  yet  leaves  it  free, 
 
 Free  to  be  peopled,  crowded,  with  His  works;  60 
 
 And,  while  mysteriously  He  co-exists 
 
 With  all  existence,  yet  displaces  none ; 
 
 Present  throughout,  as  absent:  so  distinct 
 
 Spirit  and  matter,  in  their  modes  of  being. 
 
 He  with  Himself  fills  all  things,  and  surrounds;  65 
 
 Holds  them  as  in  his  grasp ;  they  live,  they  move, 
 
 In  the  vast  circle  of  His  power ;  and  all 
 
 Exist,  envelop' d  with  Divinity ! 
 
 Could  atom  e'er  usurp  that  point  of  space, 
 Co-instantaneous,  which  its  neighbour  fills  ?        70 
 No  :  that  were  spirit :  spirit,  subtler  far 
 E'en  than  ethereous  quintescence,  can  pierce 
 All  substances,  and  permeate, — all  alike, 
 Rare  or  condense,  remote  or  present :  nought 
 Of  barrier,  interpos'd,  arrests  the  power  75 
 
 Of  spirit :  time  and  distance  disappear, 
 And  space  incomprehensible  is  lost. 
 
Go,  mortal,  catechise  thy  soul,  and  there 
 See,  as  in  shadowy  miniature  pourtray'd, 
 The  Omnipresence  of  Eternal  Mind.  80 
 
 For  e'en  that  particle  of  breath  Divine, 
 That  spark  of  heaven,  prison'd  in  fleshly  vase, 
 Bears  it  not  still  the  semblance,  tho'  bedimnrd, 
 Of  all-pervading  energy  ?  Oh  say, 
 Say,  (if  such  thought  may  be  divulg'd  unblam'd)85 
 Seems  not  the  image  of  Immensity 
 E'en  in  this  "  local  habitation"  lodg'd? 
 For  who  so  dull,  but  feels  a  soul  that  oft, 
 — Superior  to  its  partner's  gross  delay, 
 To  all  corporeal  circumstance,  and  bravely  90 
 
 Scornful  of  difficult  distance  or  slow  time, — 
 Can,  with  the  Psalmist,  take  the  ruddy  wings 
 Of  morning,  and  careeringly  pursue 
 The  roundings  of  the  sun,  and  light  on  isles 
 Far  in  the  world  of  waves ;  yea  soar  to  heaven,  95 
 And  mingle  with  the  quiring  cherubim ; 
 Yea  plunge  to  hell,  recoiling  I  while  perchance, 
 Stretch'd  in  a  narrow  cell  on  narrower  couch, 
 The  body,  motionless  as  death,  remains  ! 
 
8 
 
 As  if  the  empyreal  ether  of  our  being,  100 
 
 Pure  from  terrene  concretion,  sole  surviv'd ! 
 
 Thus  on  the  universe,  but  most  on  man, 
 Most  on  embodied  mind,  behold  the  truth, 
 That  God  is  Spirit,  with  a  sun-beam  writ. 
 Thus  spirit,  only,  with  infinitude,  105 
 
 With  omnipresent  being",  co-exists  ; 
 Material  nature  cannot.     Spirit  thus, 
 Spirit  is  sole  creator,  uncreate  ; 
 Matter  creation,  uncreative  still 
 Nor  all  the  starry  universe  is  worth  110 
 
 That  sparkle  of  Divinity,  a  soul ! 
 
 Ne'er  could  those  vain  idolaters,  who  split 
 Infinite  Oneness  into  countless  forms 
 Of  gross  and  dwarfish  deity, — hill-gods, 
 Or  gods  of  groves  and  rivers ; — ne'er  could  such,  115 
 Midst  their  bewildering  fractions  of  the  One, 
 Idea  so  sublimely  simple  reach 
 As  universal  presence :  still  it  mock'd 
 Their  grovelling  thought.     'Tis  unity  alone 
 
Is  co-extensive  with  infinitude.  120 
 
 Truth  so  divine  with  error  so  profane 
 Scorn'd  to  co-habit  twinn'd ;  as  that  dark  fiend, 
 Scar'd  and  shot  through,  now  flies  the  light ;  while  all 
 Who  own  the  One,  the  Omnipresent  own. 
 
 Yes,  in  ourselves  the  mystery  we  behold.  125 
 So  Prophets,  by  the  o'ershado wing  power  of  heaven, 
 Rapt  into  unborn  ages  far  away, 
 And  undiscover'd  regions,  seem  to  seize 
 The  skirts  of  Omnipresence,  half  Divine. 
 Present  and  past  and  future  all  confus'd,  130 
 
 Tranc'd  in  eternity  they  lay,  and  time 
 And  place  were  not ;  while  Prophecy  her  pen 
 Impatient  pluck'd  from  History's  tardy  hand. 
 So,  from  the  heights  of  Moab,  Peor's  son 
 Sees  the  bright  Star  of  Jacob,  far  beneath        135 
 The  horizon ;  and  with  eyes,  clos'd  as  in  death, 
 Darts  in  an  instant  o'er  the  thousand  years 
 That  yet  must  drag  their  lingering  lapse.     So  he 
 Of  Tarsus,  in  the  Spirit's  whirlwind  rapt 
 To  the  pure  empyrean,  the  third  heaven,  T40 
 
 Wist  not  if  premature  he  shar'd  on  earth 
 
10 
 
 A  foretaste,  unimaginably  sweet, 
 
 Of  spirit,  yea  and  body,  nor  to  time 
 
 Confin'd,  nor  place,  in  presence.    Hence  he  knew, 
 
 Master  of  heavenly  science,  nought  forbids,      145 
 
 Save  these  material  chains  in  which  we  groan, 
 
 Nought  else  forbids  our  spirit,  e'en  on  earth, 
 
 To  wander  o'er  the  universe ;  to  mix 
 
 With  friends  however  distant ;  yea,  if  meet 
 
 For  glory,  to  be  "  present  with  the  Lord."        150 
 
 Oh !  could  we  drop,  like  autumn  leaves,  these 
 weeds 
 Of  flesh,  this  "  muddy  vesture  of  decay  ;" 
 What  if  a  new  creation  then  might  burst 
 From  the  dark  veil  that  hides  it  I  what  if  then, 
 Silent  no  more,  and  void,  this  ambient  space     155 
 Were  peopled  all,  and  vocal,  with  the  powers, 
 The  battling  myriads,  or  of  heaven  or  hell  I 
 E'en  as  that  youth,  whose  eyes  from  fleshly  film 
 Were  clear'd  divinely  at  Elisha's  prayer, 
 Starting  from  hopeless  dread  to  wondering  joy,  160 
 Saw  the  vast  mountain,  late  so  lone,  so  drear, 
 And  girt  with  furious  foes ;  now  saw  it  burn 
 
11 
 
 With  chariots  and  with  cavalry  of  heaven, 
 Like  those  which  late  upbore  the'  undying  prophet, 
 A  fiery  and  a  countless  garrison  165 
 
 Marshall'd  around  his  master. — Such  the  might, 
 The  piercing,  the  pervading  presence  such, 
 E'en  of  our  finite  spirit,  freed  from  flesh  ! 
 
 Oh,  then,  the  Infinite  ! — but  who  shall  tread 
 Those  high  mysterious  chambers  which  conceal  170 
 The  attributes  of  Godhead  I  who  invade 
 The  habitation  of  eternity  I 
 — If  creature  spirits,  clogg'd  with  clay,  retain 
 The  shadow  of  ubiquity ;  the  wish, 
 Yea  and  the  power,  though  marr'd  by  sin,  to 
 
 glance  175 
 
 With  fiery  fleetness  o'er  the  universe  ; 
 Then  read,  within,  thine  Archetype,  O  man ; 
 Thou  image  of  thine  Author,  read,  within, 
 His  Omnipresence !  not,  oh  not  like  aught 
 Of  wing'd  transition  in  thy  cabin'd  soul,  180 
 
 (Less  different  noontide  glare  from  midnight  gloom) 
 But  energetic  as  Omnipotence, 
 Co-instantaneous  as  eternity, 
 b2 
 
12 
 
 Absolute  as  infinitude !— For  He, 
 
 He,  in  His  own  full  phrase,  is  all  IN  all:  185 
 
 All  in  His  meanest,  His  minutest  things : 
 
 — In  the  fine  blade  of  grass,  or  grain  of  sand, 
 
 I  see  Him :  yea  th'  invisible  motes  and  atoms 
 
 That  flicker  through  the  air,  in  whom  but  Him 
 
 Move  they,  or  have  their  being?  yea  that  air,  190 
 
 What  is  it  but  the  breath  of  Deity  ; 
 
 The  Everlasting  Spirit,  as  at  first, 
 
 Hovering  His  parent  wings  ?  Nor  less  than  here, 
 
 In  those  His  mightier,  more  majestic  works ; 
 
 Those  worlds  with  all  their  wonders,  hosts  on 
 
 hosts,  195 
 
 Whence  the  great  Lord  assumes  His  title;  those, 
 The  secrets  of  the  teeming  universe 
 Which  night  unveils,  when  earth  and  day  retire, 
 ■ — Unveils  "in  part  and  darkly  !"•— there,  not  less. 
 There,  all  in  all,  the  Sov'reign  Presence 
 
 dwells.  200 
 
 We  have  not  eyes  for  spirit,  flesh'd  in  sense : 
 Inwrapt  in  God,  we  see  Him  not,  nor  feel 
 The  hand  that  circles,  and,  at  every  point, 
 
13 
 
 Pervades  us.     Yet  He  fills  our  inmost  frame  : 
 He,  who  this  sage  anatomy  compos'd  205 
 
 ]\Jidst  the  dark  womb ;  who  curiously  with  veins, 
 Fibres,  and  nerves,  embroider'd  it;  He  makes 
 The  soul  His  presence-chamber ;  marks  whate'er 
 Of  imagery  variegates  its  walls 
 And  windings;  walks  the  subtlest  thoughts;  yea 
 pierces  210 
 
 The'  inexplicable  union  and  division 
 Of  soul  and  spirit :  He,  tho'  all  unseen, 
 Dwells  with  us,  oh!  far  deeplier  than  ourselves. 
 Presence  alone  is  perfect  knowledge  :  here 
 Omniscience  dwells  with  Omnipresence  twinn'd.  21 5 
 
 Ne'er  hast  thou  felt  this  all-pervading  power 
 Within  thee,  and  around?  Oh!  ask  thy  soul 
 Amidst  that  death-like  and  unbreathing  hush 
 To  which  the  slumberer  wakes  at  midnight!  ask, 
 Amidst  the  desert's  listening  solitude  !  220 
 
 Is  there  no  voice,  inaudible,  yet  deep  I 
 No  social  presence,  mighty,  though  unseen  I 
 — Oh!  thoughtless,  if  thou  know'st  not,  to  the  soul 
 Crowds  may  be  aching  loneliness;  nor  less 
 
14 
 
 The  desert,  peopled  with  sweet  intercourse  !     225 
 E'en  here,  as  tranc'd  in  solemn  muse  I  sit, 
 With  nought  but  Nature,  in  her  ravishment 
 Of  summer  beauty,  near  me ;  midst  the  still, 
 The  steep,  and  sylvan  solitudes  that  climb 
 Where  Avon,  native  stream,  with  tribute  brown  230 
 Hastes  to  the  lordly  Severn;— am  I  sole? — 
 Oh  no,  I  feel  Him ;  circumfus'd  with  God, 
 I  hail  Him,  not  unconscious ;  and  that  voice 
 Of  One,  amidst  the  coolness  of  the  trees 
 Walking,  which  Adam  heardso  deep,  so  dread; 235 
 I  hear  it  now  in  spirit,  still  and  small, 
 Whispering  of  wisdom,  power,  and  love  Divine. 
 So  may  I  ever  hear  it,  midst  the  crowd, 
 Or  midst  the  closet,  breathing  holy  awe 
 Of  sin,  and  zeal  of  duty,  as  with  God  !  240 
 
 Breathing  what  meek  humility  unfeign'd, 
 What  bright-eyed  faith,  what  never-failing  joy ! 
 
 Yes,  in  each  portion  of  Thine  universe 
 Thou  meet'st  us,  Archetype  of  being !— all 
 Is  but  a  mirror  of  Divinity ;  245 
 
 Reflecting,  wheresoe'er  we  duly  gaze, 
 
15 
 
 God  and  religion.     Thou  on  all  Thy  works 
 Hast  writ  Thy  name.     I  see  Thee  in  this  light, 
 Essence  of  light  Thyself:  this  vital  air, 
 Mysterious,  uncontrollable,  it  breathes,  250 
 
 Expressive  of  Thy  Spirit :  every  tree, — 
 In  this  umbrageous  haunt  of  pensiveness, 
 This  wild  retirement,  sacred  to  the  Muse, — 
 Preaches  the  Tree  of  life  :  these  antient  cliffs 
 Shadow  the  Rock  of  ages :  while  yon  stream,  255 
 For  ever  flowing,  points  the'  Eternal  Fount. 
 Is  there  a  thing  in  Nature,  but  Thy  word, 
 Rich  in  symbolic  lore,  hath  hallowing  us'd, 
 An  image  of  Thyself;  concentering  thus 
 Creation  in  its  all-pervading  soul ;  260 
 
 And  schooling  man  to  read  Thy  works  aright ! 
 
 God  is  the  grandeur,  that  around  expands ; 
 God,  the  sublimity  that  rises  ;  He, 
 The  loveliness  that  smiles ;  the  life  that  glows ; 
 The  wisdom  that  astonishes ;  the  power  265 
 
 And  goodness,  that  provide,  sustain,  and  bless : 
 The  universe  of  excellence,  is  God  ! 
 
16 
 
 Time  was  that  He,  dawning  on  mortal  sense, 
 Laid  His  invisibility  aside 
 
 In  part :  faint  glimpses  of  His  glory  flash'd         270 
 (Glimpses  how  insupportable,  though  faint !) 
 Where  Sinai,  in  the  gaze  of  trembling  Israel, 
 Burn'd,  like  a  furnace,  to  the  cope  of  heaven ; 
 While  mere  reflection  of  the  vision,  caught 
 By  Moses,  dazzled  like  day's  flaming  eye.         275 
 Now,  lone  and  dark  as  earth's  unhallow'd  hills, 
 That  Sinai  meets  the'  unconscious  pilgrim's  glance 
 From  age  to  age :  no  gleam  of  glory  there, 
 No  hint  of  Godhead,  lingers :  yet  believe, 
 Still  in  that  lonely  darkness,  bright  and  full      280 
 As  erst,  the  same  dread  Presence  dwells  conceal'd: 
 — The  universe  is  one  unbounded  Sinai ! 
 
 Then  happiest,   oh!   past  utterance,  past 
 compare, 
 Happiest  in  clear  assurance  and  sweet  sense 
 Of  Sacred  Omnipresence !  they  who  kneel       285 
 Not  to  "the  Unknown  God"  of  pagans  old, 
 Or  baptis'd  misbelievers ;  but  adore 
 The  true,  the  Saviour  God,  so  e  God  for  man; 
 
17 
 
 Redeeming'  Deity,  the  sole  reveal" d 
 
 To  creatures  fall'n  from  primal  rectitude  ;  290 
 
 Jehovah  visible  in  Jesus,  God 
 
 Inshrind  in  flesh,   ¥  Infinitude  confin'd," 
 
 And  Omnipresence  lodged  in  human  form ! 
 
 Yes,  the  whole  plenitude  of  Godhead  dwelt 
 
 In  Christ,  embodied  ;  and  that  man  of  woes,     295 
 
 Local  awhile,  yet  own'd  immensity, 
 
 And  reign' d  in  heaven  what  time  He  serv'd  on  earth . 
 
 Oh  mystery,  past  all  controversy,  sure ! 
 
 All  comprehension,  great !  not  undisclosed 
 
 In  embryo  promise,  or  to  him  the  sire  300 
 
 Of  sinners,  or  the  patriarchs.     Adam  thus, 
 
 Abel,  and  Enoch,  knew  their  present  Lord  ; 
 
 And  Jacob,  waking  with  religious  awe, 
 
 Cried  in  the  solitude,  '  Lo,  God  is  here  ! 
 
 Lo,  here  his  temple,  here  the  gate  of  heaven  !'  305 
 
 How  deeply  David  felt,  how  sweetly  sung, 
 
 His  Saviour  ever  nigh ;  and,  from  the  sense 
 
 Of  those  excursive  energies  within, 
 
 Rose  to  the  all  in  all  !  — Xor  less  who  saw 
 
 His  temple  filFd  by  One  whose  boundless  being  310 
 
 u  Heaven  and  the  heaven  of  heavens"  in  vain  conceal. 
 
18 
 
 Then  rapt  Isaiah,  mortal  seraph,  paints 
 Grandly  the  grand  idea,  brightening  down, 
 — Till  He,  Incarnate  Omnipresence,  comes  I 
 Till  to  his  scatter'd  followers,  yea  the'  unborn,  315 
 Of  every  age,  of  every  clime,  he  cries, 
 '  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always  to  the  end  ; 
 Where  two  or  three  are  gather'd,  I  am  there :' 
 Invisible,  yet  present ;  not  the  less 
 Than  when  amidst  that  little  band,  conven'd     320 
 Within  the  guarded  chamber,  sudden  stood 
 Their  Lord,  new-ris'n,  with  well-known  voice  of 
 <  Peace/ 
 
 As  sudden,  lo,  the  Spirit,  erst  dispensed 
 Under  that  dim  economy  in  rare 
 And  jealous  measures,  now  on  sainted  souls     325 
 In  unexampled  amplitude  descends ! 
 Oh  then,  the'  o'erwhelming  truth  I  mar  with  song, 
 Then  was  it  known  indeed !— for  who  can  say, 
 Who  can  conceive,  how  in  that  grated  cell 
 Philippian,  or  that  lone  Egean  isle,  330 
 
 He  who  had  left  yon  starry  heavens  below, 
 Or  he  who  saw  the  Apocalypse,  must  pierce 
 
19 
 
 The  Omnipresence  of  Divinity  ! 
 
 — They,  in  the  fiery  raptures  of  their  faith, 
 
 (Oh!  how  unlike  these  grovelling  minds  of  ours,  335 
 
 These  dull  cold  hearts!)  they,  like  their  seraph 
 
 brethren, 
 Soaring  and  burning,  caught  in  every  scene 
 Glimpses  of  opening  heaven,  and  felt  their  souls 
 Fulfill'd  with  all  the  fulness  of  their  God, 
 
 Blest,  who,   at  humble  distance  following 
 these,  340 
 
 Share  in  degree  that  high  experience ! — They, 
 They  also,  by  wing'd  intercourse  of  faith, — 
 Faith,  hope,  and  love,  exhaling  prayer  and 
 
 praise, — 
 By  God's  own  Spirit  visiting  the  breast, 
 And  hallowing  as  His  temple, — walk  with  God,  345 
 And  see  Him  though  invisible,  nor  feel 
 His  Presence  least  when  none  beside  is  nigh, 
 Nor  hear  Him  least  when  all  are  mute  beside  ; 
 Never  less  lonely  than  when  thus  alone, 
 Alone  with  God  ! — Oh  heavenly  solitude,  350 
 
 Out-beggaring  all  companionship  of  earth  ! 
 
20       ' 
 
 Oh  silence,  sweeter  than  all  harmony, 
 
 Save  that,  which  it  anticipates,  of  heaven ! 
 
 Then,  in  the  omnipresence  of  our  soul, 
 
 The  Omnipresence  of  our  God  we  prove.  355 
 
 At  evening,  from  the  loneliness  of  crowds 
 
 Escap'd,  the  Christian  oft,  like  Isaac,  seeks 
 
 The  crowded  infinite  of  solitude ; 
 
 Or  in  his  meditative  cell,  or  rather 
 
 Under  the  canopy  of  countless  worlds  360 
 
 That  breathe,  with  such  a  solemn  eloquence, 
 
 Of  Presence  all-pervading  !    Oft  in  God, 
 
 Centre  of  souls,  he  meets  his  distant  friends, 
 
 Distant  as  each  from  other  here  may  dwell, 
 
 Yea  as  eternity  from  time  :  their  frames  365 
 
 Of  dust  are  severed,  but  their  spirits  join. 
 
 He  joins  the  spirits  perfected ;  the  host 
 
 Of  angels,  "number  without  number;"  sends 
 
 His  thoughts,  forerunners  of  himself,  to  heaven, 
 
 And  antedates  eternity  in  time.  370 
 
 Oh  yes,  believe  the  dying  saint !  'tis  he 
 
 Foretastes  his  heaven,  the  presence  of  his  God  : 
 
 Believe  him !  God  and  heaven  are  every  where, 
 
 Are  here—-'  except  these  bonds'  of  flesh  and  sin. 
 
21 
 
 Presence  of  God  in  spirit!  precious  truth, 375 
 Precious  to  those  who  in  that  presence  woo 
 Their  portion,  their  perfection !    Well  they  know, 
 TV  explore,  in  aught  beside,  the  gem  of  bliss, 
 Is  but  to  search  the  living  midst  the  dead. 
 Question  the  height;  it  answers,  Tis  not  here:380 
 The  depth  ;  it  gives  thee  back  the  same  response. 
 What  though  creation  proffer' d  to  thy  grasp 
 Its  countless  treasures  2  what  though  all  the  sweets 
 Of  knowledge  thine,    of  honour,  power,  and  love  I 
 Think'st  thou,  could  all  those  sweets,  those  treasures 
 fill  385 
 
 The'  unbounded  aspirations  of  thy  soul  I 
 Oh  deem  not  so  !   The  spirit,  form'd  for  God, 
 Roves  o'er  His  works,  insatiable :  she  asks 
 Infinite,  uncreated  good  ;  nor  aught 
 Less  than  the  Fountain  of  essential  life  390 
 
 Can  slake  her  inextinguishable  thirst. 
 God  in  Himself  hath  center1  d  and  reserv'd 
 The  secret  of  beatitude  ;  Himself 
 N  ot  more  its  Author,  than  its  element. 
 Tis  only,  as  it  leads  us  home  to  Him,  395 
 
 That  aught  He  gives,  can  bless  us  ;  worthless  else, 
 
22 
 
 Lifeless,  as,  sever'd  from  its  root,  the  tree. 
 Hence,  in  Divine  communion  still  the  saints, 
 Drawn  from  above,  have  sought  and  found  their  joy ; 
 And  near  and  nearer  to  the  throne  of  Love       400 
 Have  press'd,  delighted :  hence,  like  him  of  old, 
 All  with  one  voice,  one  heart,  they  still  exclaim ; 
 "  Whom  but  Thyself  desire  we,  Lord,  below  ( 
 What  but  Thy  presence  gives  its  charm  to  heaven?" 
 Nor  human  tongue  can  tell,  nor  human  thought,  405 
 Save  in  experience,  comprehend  the  peace 
 Thy  Spirit  in  the  soul,  thro*  all  her  powers, 
 Diffuses;  peace  of  an  in-dwelling  God! — 
 No  rest,  for  man  or  angel,  save  in  Thee ! 
 
 But  He,  whose  presence  fills  existence, 
 hides,  410 
 
 Or  dimly  shows  it, — save  in  heaven,     'Tis  there 
 His  temple's  Holy  of  holies,  mark'd  in  type 
 By  that  of  old.     Vainly  the  Muse  attempts 
 That  new  creation ;  since  not  he  who  caught 
 A  glimpse  of  paradise,  in  mortal  phrase  415 
 
 Could  paint  the  bliss,  unlawful  to  be  told. 
 There  God  unfolds  His  presence,  clouded  here, 
 
23 
 
 4 
 
 And  shines  eternal  day.     All,  all  is  there 
 
 Bright  effluence  of  the  uncreated  Mind  ; 
 
 Infinite  beauty,  all !     A  vernal  life,  420 
 
 A  fire  ethereal,  unperceiv'd  itself, 
 
 Felt  in  its  glorious  energy,  pervades 
 
 And  thrills,  through  every  part,  the  taintless  whole : 
 
 The  air,  the  soil,  the  rivers,  fruits,  and  flowers, 
 
 Instinct  with  immortality,  and  touch'd  425 
 
 With  amaranthine  freshness,  by  the  hand 
 
 That  form'd  them,  and  the  beatific  smile 
 
 That  ever  beams  around  them.     Every  heart 
 
 Catches  that  smile  ;  each  eye  reflects  it :  all, 
 
 In  body  and  in  spirit,  sumless  myriads,  430 
 
 FilFd  with  empyreal  vigour,  fill'd  with  God, 
 
 And  radiant  in  the  glory  of  the  Lamb ! 
 
 But  Oh,  the  dreadful  contrast !     As  of  old, 
 That  wondrous  pillar,  which  on  Israel  smil'd 
 A  midnight  sunshine,  on  their  Memphian  foes  435 
 Frown'd  horrible  with  darkness,  quenching  noon ; 
 E'en  so  the  presence,  which  to  sons  of  God 
 Opes  the  sweet  heaven  of  heavens,  on  rebel  souls 
 Glares  with  the  fire  of  hell !  Nor  shade,  nor  stain, 
 
24 
 
 Can  He,  whose  name  is  Holiness,  receive ;        440 
 
 Yet  not  a  depth  of  guilt,  but  there  He  works, 
 
 Present  and  felt.     Is  sacred  light  profan'd, 
 
 That  visits,  with  impartial  eye,  the  scene 
 
 Of  horror,  or  of  loveliness  ?     Not  more 
 
 His  presence  gladdens  Paradise,  than  blasts     445 
 
 And  burns  the'  accursed.— Hear,  hypocrisy, 
 
 Thou  queen  of  maniacs,  hear ! — The  hopeless  groan 
 
 Still,  still  through  lost  eternity  resounds ; 
 
 "  Oh  whither  from  that  Spirit  shall  we  fly? 
 
 Whither  escape  that  Presence  VI  He  is  there,  450 
 
 There,  in  the  terrors  qf  infinity, 
 
 Where  fiends    "  believe  and  tremble !"   Tremble 
 
 thou, 
 Too  daring  Muse!  thy  shuddering  glance  withdraw ! 
 And,  joyous,  to  the  realms  of  light  return  ! 
 
 Smile  ye  not,  Angels? — since  full  oft  ye 
 bend,  455 
 
 From  your  bright  battlements,  to  those  who  lisp 
 With  earthly  lips  our  common  Fathers  praise  :— 
 Ye  ministering  spirits,  smile  ye  not 
 A  smile  of  sweetest  pity,  thus  to'  o'erhear 
 
25 
 
 The  feeblest  of  your  nurselings  darkening  truth  460 
 With  words  how  weak  !  (like  worm  that  fain  would 
 
 soar,) 
 And  stammering'  glories  yet  to  be  reveal'd  I 
 For  oh,  the  brightest  of  our  heavenward  views, 
 Compared  with  yours,  'tis  darkness  !     We  in  faith, 
 Ye  dwell  in  sight;  we,  prisoners  here  of  hope, 465 
 Struggling  in  fleshly  fetters,  may  not  pass 
 Oar  nature's  barrier  circle,  corporal  sense  ; 
 Or,  if  we  strive  to  spurn  our  dust,  to  leave 
 Earth  and  material  intercourse  behind, 
 To'  anticipate  pure  spirit, — soon  we  sink,  470 
 
 Lost  in  a  dim  confusion  ;  'tis  not  ours 
 (We  feel)  to  breathe  the  element  so  fine 
 Of  your  high  region  ;  ours  the  vapoury  vale. 
 But  ye, — e'en  in  your  body  spirit-like, 
 (If  body  yours)  nor  e'er  your  eyes  are  dimm'd,  475 
 As  ours, — all  guiltless  of  a  tear ; — ye  view 
 That  presence  beatific  face  to  face, 
 And  know  (Oh  wondrous  !)  e'en  as  ye  are  known  ; 
 Know  with  pure  love's  omniscient  instinct ;   love 
 Which  lives  when  knowledge  withers ;  which  e'en 
 
 now  480 
 
26 
 
 Perchance  comes  nearest  omnipresent  power; 
 
 Annihilating  distance,  mingling  souls : 
 
 The  spirit  of  infinitude  in  man  ! 
 
 Ye,  as  within  the  veil,  drink  all  the  beams 
 
 Of  Deity,  that,  like  a  sunshine,  fill  485 
 
 Your  temple  :  yet  no  sun,  no  temple,  yours ; 
 
 God  is  the  Temple  there;  the  universe, 
 
 Is  lost  in  God,  the  universal  Sun ; 
 
 The  host  of  night  lost  in  the  Lord  of  day ! 
 
 That  presence,  here  invisible,  or  seen  490 
 
 In  dim  reflection  from  His  works  and  word, 
 
 There  ye  behold,  immediate,  as  it  is ; 
 
 And  in  the  bright  immensity  of  God, 
 
 Breathing  beatitude,  for  ever  bask. 
 
 Yet  shall  we  join   you,  sons  of  God,  (the 
 hour,  495 
 
 How  near  it  hovers !)  if  but  faithful  found 
 To  that  so  high  vocation  :  such  the  grace, 
 Unspeakable,  of  Him,  the  Saviour  God, 
 To  rebels,  made  probationers  for  heaven  ! 
 Soon  as,  uncloth'd  of  dust,  our  spirits  pass       500 
 Into  the  unknown  infinite  of  being, 
 
27 
 
 Rapt  on  your  wings  to  paradise,  to  Christ ; 
 Yet  shall  we  join  you,  not  unmeet ;  as  heirs 
 Of  that  mysterious  mercy,  whose  profound        500 
 Ye,  in  your  bending  wonder,  long  to'  explore  : 
 Lower  awhile  than  you,  yet  honoured  more  : 
 Since  in  your  nature  ne'er  was  Godhead  shrin'd, 
 The'  amazing  union  was  reserv'd  for  man. 
 — Vision  of  glory !  o'er  these  clouded  waves       505 
 Of  life,  e'en  now  it  casts  a  trembling  gleam  : 
 E'en  now  young  Faith  stretches  her  aching  gaze, 
 Oft  thro'  the  mists  of  sorrow,  tow'rd  the  hills 
 Glistering  in  uncreated  light  beyond 
 Those  dark  clouds  edg'd  with  gold.     And  hark,  I 
 hear,  510 
 
 Amidst  the  countless  harpers,  that  adore 
 God  and  the  Lamb  with  praises  ever  new, 
 One  of  surpassing  minstrelsy  ;  e'en  thee, 
 Blind  master  of  celestial  song,  whose  voice 
 Following,  (but  Oh  how  far  behind!)  I  hymn    515 
 That  Presence  which  thou  prov'st  "fulness  of  joy." 
 Yes,  prince  of  poets  !  Like  those  orient  seers, 
 Who  pour'd  their  treasures  at  the  feet  of  Him, 
 In  His  own  world  so  slighted  !  thou  not  less 
 c 
 
28 
 
 Wert  fain,  with  pious  ardour,  to  redeem  520 
 
 That  inspiration,  ah,  too  long  profan'd, 
 
 Usurp' d  by  others  than  the  rightful  Lord  ; 
 
 Fain  to  re-hallow  poesy  to  Him 
 
 Who  hallow'd  it  so  nobly  to  Himself 
 
 At  first,  and  give  Him  back  His  beauteous  gift.  525 
 
 So,  Milton,  may  thy  filial  bards, — the  few 
 
 Who  stemmed  the  general  tide,  who  dar'd  resound 
 
 More  the  Creator's  than  the  creature's  praise ; 
 
 So  may  they  join  thee  in  those  bowers  of  bliss,  [530 
 
 (Bowers  which  out-bloom  that  paradise  of  thine,) 
 
 As  here,  with  thee,  wandering  by  Horeb  oft, 
 
 Or  Sion  hill,  they  tried  prelusive  airs, 
 
 And marr'd  heav'n's  music.  Then,  too,  he — the  least, 
 
 The  meanest  of  thy  sons,  who  dar'd  to  tread     535 
 
 The  temple  of  this  boundless  theme,  to  touch 
 
 With  trembling  hand  this  aweful  ark,  and  far, 
 
 Far  from  ^  the  height  of  his  great  argument," 
 
 To  lisp  an  Omnipresent  God, — shall  see 
 
 Into  what  depth  he  sunk,  from  what  height  fell ;  540 
 
 And,  midst  the  nobler  ecstasies  of  heaven, 
 
 Smile,  pitying,  o'er  the  mortal's  low-breath'd  lay. 
 
 Aug,  1820,  See  Notes  at  the  end- 
 
SACRED  POEMS. 
 
 PART  I.— ORIGINAL  PIECES. 
 
 MONITORY  RECOLLECTIONS  ON  A  NEW 
 YEAR'S  DAY. 
 
 f  Monet  Annus."— Horace. 
 
 HARK  to  that  spiritual  sound,  e'en  now 
 By  listening  Contemplation  audible, 
 — The  death-knell  of  the  parted  year  !     A  leaf 
 Is  clos'd ;  another  in  Time's  aweful  book, 
 Is  opening;  the  six  thousandth  hastens  on! 
 Like  pages  of  the'  eventful  chronicler, 
 Each  from  its  neighbour  how  diversified, 
 Or  follower,  or  forerunner  !     At  each  turn 
 New  actors  rise  or  fall  upon  the  stage  ; 
 And  all  is  mutability,  all  death. 
 
 How  sorV.y  o'er  the  soften'd  mind  it  steals, 
 This  train  of  solemn  musings, — as  I  sit 
 (This  fair  mild  morning  of  the  new-born  year) 
 
30 
 
 In  this  rude  solitude  of  silent  hills, 
 Stretch' d  on  this  wither 'd  bank, — and  only  hear 
 That  sweet,  romantic,  melancholy  sound 
 Of  far-off  bells,  associate  with  the  sense 
 Of  human,— universal  transiency. 
 — Thou  constant  sun, — ye  old  and  rooted  hills, — 
 (Yourselves  tho'  destin'd  to  a  later  fall) 
 Smile  ye  not, — so  to  Fancy's  eye  ye  seem, — 
 As  in  calm  mockery  o'er  this  changeful  scene  ? 
 Yes,  dead  they  speak :  the  very  stream  which  here 
 Glides  in  perpetual  waste  away, — the  cloud 
 So  thin,  so  light,  which  scarcely  sails  along 
 Yon  smooth  and  azure  deep  of  ether,— all 
 (Tho?  mute)  one  soul-felt  diapason  strike 
 Symphonious ;  that  "  the  fashion  of  this  world 
 Passes, — the  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand."* 
 
 What  are  we  men,  we  lords  of  earth,  but  leaves 
 Or  flowers,  that  spring,  and  blossom,  and  decay ; 
 Some  statelier,  humbler  some,  all  swift  to  fade  ? 
 
 *  See  particularly  those  pathetic  and  memorable  passages  ; 
 1  Corinth,  vii.  29—32.  1  Peter  iv.  7.  or  2.  iii.  11, 12.  1  John 
 ii.  15—17. 
 
31 
 
 Where  now  those  human  myriads  that,  like  bees 
 
 Or  butterflies,  for  use  or  pleasure,  wealth, 
 
 Art,  science,  fame,  or  fashion,  through  their  day, 
 
 O'ercast  or  sunny,  flutter  d  to  repose  I 
 
 Ask'st  thou?     Ask  where  the  leaves  and  flowers 
 
 they  trod, 
 Or  view'd :  ask  where  the  butterflies  and  bees 
 That  pass'd  them.      One  poor  answer  serves  for 
 
 all: 
 They  have  been, — are  no  more;  no  more  survive 
 E'en  in  their  works ;  their  cities,  thrones,  renown, 
 (Built  with  such  length  of  labour)  fall'n,  forgot. 
 
 Oh  then,  that  after-world, — which  who,  that 
 
 thinks, 
 Can  doubt  J  which,  preach'dby  Heaven's  authentic 
 
 voice, 
 Yea  by  its  own  light  manifest,  makes  clear, 
 And  wise,  and  comfortable,  all  that  else 
 Were  mystery,  were  vanity,  were  gloom; — 
 That  after-world  is  all.     There  let  me  fix 
 My  heart,  my  treasure  ;  deeply  there  forecast 
 My  cares,  my  hopes,  my  happiness,  my  home ! 
 
32 
 
 —Thou  should'st  have  more  and  earlier  looked  to 
 
 this;* 
 Heedless  too  long  of  being's  pregnant  end, 
 Too  much  enamour'd  of  each  way-side  charm; 
 Studious  with  man's  vain  lore  to  load  a  mind 
 Dead  in  its  guilt ;  to  trick  (as  'twere)  with  flowers 
 A  corse,  meet  only  for  the  worm  or  fire. 
 Yet  what  hadst  thou  to  do  in  this  brief  state, 
 But  grapple  fast  thy  safety  in  the  next, 
 (That  world  interminable  of  weal  or  woe !) 
 "  With  fear,  with  trembling?"  not  by  vexing  cares 
 Cumber'd,  or  by  dissatisfying  joys ; 
 But  single-sighted, — on  thy  one  great  task 
 Fix'd, — and  athwart  the'  obtrusive  gauds  of  sense, 
 Stretching  to  Faith's  eternities  her  gaze ! — 
 Years  have  been  lost :  up,  stir  thee  to  redeem 
 All  that  of  life  may  yet  be  thine ;  who  knows 
 How  little  ? — Life  is  but  a  scanty  ledge, 
 Where  the  poor  pilgrim  walks  suspended  'twixt 
 Two  fathomless  abysses,  Hell  and  Heaven. 
 Oh  let  him  heed  his  footing,  heed  his  side ! 
 
 *  «  . . Oh,  I  have  ta'en 
 
 Too  little  care  of  this !"—- Lear. 
 
33 
 
 Chances  play  round  him  momently ;  and  each 
 May  sweep  him  to  the'  unknown,  next  which  he 
 
 treads, 
 There  to  reside  for  ever,  blest  or  curst ! 
 
 Thou,  then,  who  hail'st  this  opening  of  a  year, 
 Mark  down  for  Heaven  its  progress  ;  ere  its  close 
 A  redbreast  may  be  warbling  on  the  stone 
 Where  thou  art  cold  and  darkling  underneath. 
 Still  hast  thou  been  permitted  to  behold 
 Yon  sun  renewing  o'er  the  radiant  months 
 His  rounds ;  too  oft  rebellious  against  Him, 
 The  great,  the  gracious  Author  of  sweet  light : — 
 Still  has  thy  heart  its  glad  pulsations  kept, 
 And  kindly  fires;  unwarm'd,  too  oft,  unmov'd, 
 With  love,  with  active  gratitude,  to  Him, 
 Giver  of  all : — thou  still  hast  mark'd,  with  eyes 
 Of  joyous  wonder,  herbs  and  leaves  and  flowers 
 At  Spring's  green  resurrection  re-appear ; 
 Yet  hast  not  seiz'd  the  lesson,  from  dead  works 
 A  new  life  to  put  forth;  prefiguring  so, 
 By  present  resurrection  of  thy  soul, 
 Thy  body's  future.     Barren  heretofore, 
 
34 
 
 Still  art  thou  spar'd;  yet  oh,  presume  not  still! 
 The  Master  of  the  vineyard  spares  thee  thus, 
 In  such  long-suffering  goodness  as  may  best 
 Win  to  repentance  ;#  but  will  soon  return, 
 And,  frowning  on  the  hard  and  hopeless,  charge 
 His  pruner,  Death, — "Lay  to  that  root  thine  axe, 
 And  hew  it  down;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground V'f 
 
 Give  thyself  whole  to  God,  the  God  of  love ; 
 The  Father,  through  His  own  Son  reconcil'd 
 To  rebel  man,  and  offering  to  thy  prayers 
 And  labours  His  own  Spirit.     Oft  with  Him 
 Hold  converse  in  His  word ;  thy  master  aim 
 To  weed  out  nature,  nurse  implanted  grace, 
 To'  impregnate  with  His  will  thy  heart  and  life, 
 And  in  His  image  rise  re-vivified. 
 Do  good,  the  little  that  thou  canst,  in  this 
 Thy  measur'd  work- time ;  cheer,  enlighten,  aid, 
 The  poor,  the  dark,  the  wretched,  of  thy  kind ; 
 Copy  and  love  the  holy ;  so  to  serve 
 Thy  Lord,  thy  Father,  in  His  family. 
 Strive  as  on  earth  a  sojourner  to  walk, 
 
 *  Rom.  ii.  4.  t  Luke  xiii.  7. 
 
35 
 
 Whose  home  is  heaven: — not  like  yon  thoughtless 
 world, 
 
 Xor  like  thyself  erewhile, — grovelling:  and  chain  d 
 
 On  dust. — all  unprovided  for  the'  approach 
 
 Of  death,  of  judgment,  of  eternity  ! 
 
 — Oh!  to  be  torn,  thro'  ever-dragging  age. 
 
 From   those   thy  heart-strings    clasp'd :    the'    em- 
 bosom'd  wife. — 
 
 The  child  that  like  a  second  life  grew  up. 
 
 A  sunshine  to  thine  eyes, — the  parent,  friend, 
 
 Or  brother  ! — to  behold  them never  more  ! 
 
 Since  thou  would'st  madly  slight  the  day  of  grace 
 
 They  patiently  irnprov  d ; — soul-harrowing  thought ! 
 
 Change  it  (while  yet  thou  may'st)  for  that  dear  hope 
 
 Of  sharing  immortality  in  bliss 
 
 With  all  that  here  deserv'd  thy  lasting  love. 
 
 All  that  made  God  their  friend: theirs:  is  He 
 
 thine! 
 
 — Time's  clock  to-day  hath  once  more  struck :  it  £oes 
 
 Silently,  swiftly. — and  for  thee  must  soon 
 
 Cease  striking: — catch  its  instant  warning!  v. 
 
 Rise  from  thy  dreamy  slumber:  by  the  class 
 
 Of  heaven-born  truth,  by  all  tb  -i  faith, 
 
 n  o 
 
36 
 
 Of  faith  and  prayer  and  practice,  cleanse  and  clothe 
 A  soul  (how  naked  else,  and  foul !)  for  heaven. 
 — Thus  with  what  deep,  what  durable  reward 
 (Above  all  festal  joyance)  shalt  thou  keep,. 
 In  the  still  sanctuary  of  thine  own  breast, 
 The  monitory  birth-day  of  a  year ! 
 Written  Jan.  1st,  1816,  and  inserted  in  the  Christian  Observer. 
 
 HEAVEN  ILLUSTRATED  BY  EARTH. 
 
 '  New  Hfavens  and  a  new  Earth."    Isaiah  lxv.  17.— Ixvi.  22.    2  Peter 
 iii.  13.    Rev.  xxi.  1. 
 
 1,2. 
 
 IF  Nature  smiles,  e'en  here  below, 
 
 Where  sin  hath  tarnish' d  all  with  woe, 
 
 So  heavenly  sweet  and  fair, 
 
 Note. — Stanzas  1,  2,  analogy  inferred  from  the  scenery 
 of  earth ;  st.  3,  4,  from  the  glory  of  the  heavens ;  st.  5,  G, 
 from  the  beauty  of  form ;  st.  7,  8,  from  the  pleasures  of  in- 
 tellect ;  st.  9,  10,  from  the  comforts  of  affection ;  st.  11,  12, 
 of  faith  and  hope  ;  st.  13,  14,  of  religious  study;  st.  15, 1G,  of 
 tracing  the  Divine  steps  in  Providence  and  Grace;  st.  17, 18, 
 of  private  and  social  devotion  ;  st.  19,  20,  general  result ;  st. 
 21,  22,  contrasted  duration  of  the  present  and  the  future  uni- 
 verse; st.  23,  24,  practical  inference. 
 
With  warbling  birds,  and  breathing  flowers, 
 Hills,  woods,  and  waters, — past  the  powers 
 
 Of  mortal  to  declare; 
 Oh  think,  the  scenery  of  that  world, 
 (Eternity's  dim  curtain  finTd) 
 
 How  beauteous,  how  sublime  ! 
 What  gardens  there,  what  bowers  and  vales, 
 What  living  streams,  melodious  gales, 
 
 To  glad  the'  immortal  clime  S* 
 
 3,  4. 
 
 If  looks  with  such  a  glorious  glance 
 Yon  sun  from  yonder  blue  expanse, 
 
 There's  rapture  in  the  sight ; 
 If  night's  thick  host  so  solemn  gleam, 
 And  the  sweet  moon  o'er  all  doth  stream 
 
 So  exquisite  a  light ; 
 What  light,  what  glory,  must  be  there ! 
 What  heavens,  beyond  our  poor  compart', 
 
 O'er-canopy  the'  abode 
 
 "  what  if  Earth 
 
 Be  like  to  Heaven,  more  than  01  Earth  ifl  thought  " 
 "  For  Earth  hath  this  variety  from  Heaven 
 
 Of  pleasure  situate  in  hill  and  dale."— Mn.i  -<»\ 
 
38 
 
 Where  neither  day  they  know,  nor  night ; 
 For  there  the  Lamb  is  all  their  light, 
 And  all  their  glory,  God  !# 
 
 5,  6. 
 
 If  here  so  fair  the  forms  we  scan 
 Of  various  life,  and  most  of  man ; 
 
 So  eloquent  the  eye  ; 
 Such  grandeur,  sprightliness,  or  grace; 
 Where  Death  hath  seal'd  the  loveliest  face, 
 
 Whose  smile  e'er  wak'd  a  sigh ; 
 How  sweet,  how  glorious  to  behold, 
 Those  bodies  of  celestial  mould, 
 
 Without  a  speck,  a  taint ! 
 Their  eyes  all  sanctity  and  love, 
 Their  wings  all  seraph-like, — above 
 
 The  reach  of  thought  to  paint ! 
 
 7,8. 
 
 If  darkly  through  a  glass  to  see, 
 And  know  in  part,  thus  infantly,f 
 Such  interest  here  convey  ; 
 
 *  Rev.  xxi.  23.  1 1  Cor.  xiii.  11, 12. 
 
39 
 
 li*  such  a  varied  charm  we  find 
 In  Newton's,  or  in  Milton's  mind. 
 
 Grave  thought.,  or  fancy  gay ; 
 Oh.  there  in  soul  to  ripen  !  oh 
 To  see  all  face  to  face,  and  know 
 
 E'en  as  ourselves  are  known  ;  i 
 Spirit  with  spirit,  mind  with  mind  : 
 Uncloy'd.  unclouded,  nnconfin'd ; 
 
 Truth's  universe  our  own  ! 
 
 9.   10. 
 
 If  here  the  interchange  of  hearts 
 Such  an  all-healing-  balm  imparts. 
 
 And  love  each  sorrow  cheers ; 
 Where  many  a  human  fault  alloys. 
 And  partings  break,  our  social  joys, 
 
 And  smiles  are  mix  d  with  tears ; 
 Then  oh,  where  no  farewells  intrude. 
 No  selfish,  no  unkindly  mood. 
 
 Their  harmony  to'  impair  : 
 Where  all  is  loveliness  and  love  : 
 — What  pure,  what  deep  content  they  prove. 
 
 What  sweet  communion,  there  ! 
 :  1  Cor.  xiii.  11.  12. 
 
40 
 
 11,  12. 
 
 If,  where  around  our  holiest  things 
 Sin  viper-like  still  creeps  and  clings, 
 
 And  faintness  comes,  and  fear ; 
 Yet  faith  can  such  a  peace  afford, 
 Hope  such  a  joy,  to  brighten,  Lord, 
 
 Thy  distant  dwellings  here ; 
 Then  think,  where  sin  hath  no  controul, 
 Where  faintness  ne'er  weighs  down  the  soul, 
 
 Where  fear  of  change  is  o'er, 
 Where  faith,  where  hope,  need  no  employ, 
 — -In  God's  own  presence,  think  what  joy, 
 
 Full,  and  for  evermore ! 
 
 13,  14. 
 
 If  here  the  toils,  the  thoughts  to  note, 
 A  Luther  bore,  a  Leighton  wrote, 
 
 Such  calm  delight  we  find ; 
 The  Church's  history  to  peruse, 
 And,  chief,  on  words  of  Jesus  muse, 
 
 On  Paul's,  or  David's  mind ; 
 There,  with  those  spirits  to  converse, 
 And  hear  them  each  with  praise  rehearse 
 
 Whate'er  on  earth  they  prov'd ! 
 
41 
 
 To  see  that  Saviour  as  he  is,* 
 Yea  to  be  like  him, — crown  of  bliss, — - 
 Whom  here,  unseen,  we  lov'd  !f 
 
 15,  16. 
 
 If  in  our  soul  so  sweet  to  trace 
 The'  impressions  of  supernal  Grace, 
 
 Imperfectly  discern'd  ; 
 With  eye  so  dim,  through  mist  so  dense, 
 To  spell  the  lines  of  Providence 
 
 In  mystic  mazes  turn'd ; 
 Then  oh  to  witness,  all  unveiPd, 
 How  wisdom,  truth,  and  love  ne'er  fail'd ! 
 
 How  beauteous,  when  avow'd, 
 In  Grace,  in  Providence,  they  work'd ! 
 What  beams  of  glory  ever  lurk'd 
 
 Behind  the  darkest  cloud  ! 
 
 17,  18. 
 
 If  blest,  in  silence  and  apart, 
 Heavenward  we  pour  out  all  the  heart, 
 Its  every  joy  or  care  ; 
 
 •  1  John  lii.  2.  1 1  Peter  u  8. 
 
42 
 
 If  blest,  on  festival  divine, 
 
 The'  assembled  brotherhood  we  join 
 
 In  vocal  praise  and  prayer ; 
 What,  with  the'  innumerable  throng^ 
 Of  angels  and  redeem'd,  the  song 
 
 Of  endless  praise  to  pour ! 
 And  all  the  miracles  we  trace 
 In  Nature,  Providence,  or  Grace, 
 
 Enraptur'd  still  to'  adore ! 
 
 19,  20. 
 If,  therefore,  midst  so  much  alloy, 
 There's  so  much  beauty,  so  much  joy, 
 
 In  matter  or  in  mind ; 
 If  midst  a  world  of  sin-born  woe, 
 — These  troubled  waters  here  below, — 
 
 Such  sweetness  oft  we  find ; 
 What  joy,  what  beauty,  must  be  there, 
 In  soul,  in  sense, — beyond  whate'er 
 
 Beauty  or  joy  we  call ; 
 Where  in  his  glory  shines  the  King,f 
 Where  flows  of  bliss  the'  unsullied  spring, 
 
 — Source,  center,  end  of  all ! 
 *  Heb.  xii.  22,  23  t  Isaiah  xxxiii.  17. 
 
43 
 
 21,  22. 
 
 These  heavens,  this  earth,  so  fair  to-day, 
 Must  with  a  hideous  crash  give  way  ;# 
 
 The  fatal  hour  is  sign'd  : 
 Must  shrivel  like  a  flaming  scroll  ;f 
 And,  where  they  fill'd  the  wondrous  whole, 
 
 "  Leave  not  a  wreck  behind !" 
 But  never,  through  essential  day, 
 The  new  creation  shall  decay  :J 
 
 That  world  of  love  and  truth 
 Is  God-like  all ;  it  cannot  die ; 
 Impregn'd  with  immortality, 
 
 And  ever-vernal  youth. 
 
 23,  24. 
 
 Then,  mortal,  why  on  infant  toys, 
 On  shadowy  cares,  on  meteor  joys, 
 
 Should  all  thy  soul  be  spent  I 
 Why, — blest  and  chasten'd,  woo'd  and  aw'd, — § 
 In  these  His  works  forget  thy  God, 
 
 Thy  home  in  this  thy  tent  I 
 
 2  Pet.  iii.  10      f  Isa.  xxxiv.  4.    Rev.  vi.  14.      %  Isa.  lxvi.  22. 
 
 § "  Though  woo'd  and  aw'd, 
 
 Blest  and  chastis'd,  a  flagrant  rebel  still !" — Yoixg. 
 
44 
 
 No,  learn  to  look  with  faith  serene 
 At  things  eternal,  tho'  unseen,^ 
 
 Eternal,  undefil'd ! 
 Like  children,  once,  we  thought,  we  spake ; 
 But,  grown  to  manhood,  we  forsake 
 
 The  trifles  of  the  child.t 
 *2  Cor.  iv.  18.   Heb.  xi.  1.   1  Peter  i.§4.  U  Cor.  xiii.  11. 
 
 Lyme,  Sept.  1819. 
 
 — **vn**/>«Ji.*/».**'«*\/  - 
 
 PRESENT  KNOWLEDGE,  CONTRASTED  WITH 
 FUTURE. 
 
 A  MEDITATIVE  HYMN. 
 
 "he  knew  not  here—but  died  to  know." — Gambold. 
 (Epitaph  on  himself.) 
 
 1. 
 
 NE'ER  hast  thou  mark'd  a  child,  how  weak 
 
 To  understand,  to  think,  to  speak  I 
 
 How  small  the'  horizon  of  its  mind  I 
 
 Its  range  of  utterance,  how  confin'd  ? 
 
 Note. — Stanza  1 — 6,  Introduction;  st.  6 — 10,  sphere  of  Crea- 
 tion; st.  11—16,  of  Providence;  st.  17 — 23,  of  Redemption; 
 st.  24 — 30,  Conclusion. 
 
45 
 
 Things  which  we,  men,  important  deem, 
 "What  darkness  to  that  child  they  seem  ! 
 While  trifles,  how  minute,  compose 
 The  tiny  universe  it  knows  ! 
 
 3. 
 
 Yet  slower  far  in  thought  and  speech, 
 Narrower  in  understanding's  reach, — 
 When  many  a  mystery  we  scan, — 
 Than  infancy,  compar'd  with  man ; 
 
 4. 
 
 Are  we,  who  know  so  partially, 
 Who  by  so  dim  a  mirror  see,* 
 Who  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight,f 
 Who  cloud  with  flesh  the  Spirit's  light ; 
 
 5. 
 
 Compar'd  with  that  celestial  race 
 Who  see  (how  different !)  face  to  face, 
 
 *  1  Cor.  xiii.  12.  "  We  do  not  suppose,  with  our  English 
 version,  that  the  allusion  is  to  dioptrics,  but  catoptrics.  We 
 now  see  God  by  reflection  from  the  objects  of  nature." — Jones. 
 (Preface  to  Life  of  Home.) 
 
 t  2  Cor.  v.  7. 
 
46 
 
 t 
 
 And  know,  as  e'en  themselves  are  known, 
 God  and  His  works, — all  truth  their  own. 
 
 6. 
 
 O'erwhelm'd  with  rapturous  amaze, 
 Here  on  this  teeming  world  we  gaze, 
 We  gaze  above,  beneath,  around ; 
 Wonders  at  every  point  abound : 
 
 7. 
 
 O'er  earth  unnumber'd  they  expand, 
 How  curious,  beautiful  or  grand ! 
 Look  heavenward ;  thicker  glories  burn, 
 New  worlds,  new  wonders,  we  discern. 
 
 8. 
 
 The  more  we  gaze  and  search ;  the  more 
 
 We  love,  exult,  admire,  adore; 
 
 And  cry,  so  ravishingly  aw'd, 
 
 "How  manifold  Thy  works,  O  God!"* 
 
 9. 
 
 But  "  Oh,  'twas  not  the  half  was  told  !f " 
 So  shall  we  cry,  when  we  behold 
 That  universe  in  fulness  start, 
 Which  little  Newton  view'd  in  part ; 
 
 *  Ps.  civ.  24.  t  1  Kings  x.  7. 
 
47 
 
 10. 
 
 Worlds  beyond  worlds, — beyond  e'en  thought! 
 And  all  with  varied  being  fraught  ;# 
 In  varied  state,  chastis'd  or  blest ; 
 Wisdom  more  manifold  to'  attest. 
 
 11. 
 If  much  in  Nature's  fird  designs, 
 In  Providence's  changeful  lines 
 More  must  remain  unknown  below, 
 Kept  for  Eternity  to  show. 
 
 12. 
 
 Here  half  those  lines  we  stammering  spell, 
 Here  half  their  sense  by  guesses  tell ; — 
 There,  into  all  the  wondrous  book, 
 And  all  its  meaning,  shall  we  look. 
 
 13. 
 
 And  as,  when  heaven  is  dusk  with  clouds, 
 The  moon  her  loveliness  unshrouds, 
 Casts  a  transparence  o'er  the  night, 
 And  turns  the  dimness  into  light ; 
 
 *  '  What  varied  being  peoples  every  star.' — Essay  on  Man. 
 
48 
 
 14. 
 
 There  shall  we  joy  to  comprehend 
 Thro'  the  dark  means  the'  illustrious  end ; 
 How  God,  thro'  all,  His  glory  view'd, 
 And  seeming  ill  was  secret  good ; 
 
 15. 
 
 Why  now  Religion  suffering  fail'd, 
 Why  Satan's  kingdom  now  prevail'd ; 
 While  all  this  crime,  this  war,  this  woe, 
 Parts  of  one  perfect  whole  shall  show. 
 
 16. 
 
 There,  too,  each  private  saint  shall  see, 
 Thro'  calm  or  storm  how  wondrously 
 Tow'rd  the  wish'd  port  his  bark  was  steer'd, 
 His  perilous  passage  gently  clear'd. 
 
 17. 
 
 But  if  so  much  escap'd  our  sense 
 In  Nature  ;  more  in  Providence ; 
 Oh,  sure,  in  Grace  there's  most  to  learn, 
 Compar'd  with  aught  we  now  discern. 
 
 18. 
 
 With  mind  so  dark,  and  heart  so  cold, 
 Here  if  such  glory  we  behold 
 
49 
 
 In  that  interminable  plan 
 
 Of  God  in  Christ,  to  rescue  man ; — 
 
 19. 
 
 That  plan  where  angels  awe-struck  search 
 God's  treasur'd  wisdom  in  the  Church,* 
 Gathering  from  earth  and  heaven  in  one 
 His  scatter'd  children,  by  His  Son; — f 
 
 20. 
 That  plan  where  Love  and  Justice  meet, 
 Where  all  the  Godhead  shines  complete  ; 
 Like  colouring  in  the  mystic  bow, 
 Varied  with  rich  harmonious  glow  : — - 
 
 21. 
 
 What  depths,  what  heights  are  there  to'  explore, 
 Too  deep  for  search,  too  high  for  soar. 
 Still  in  succession  ever  new 
 Enlarging  on  the'  enlarging  view ! — 
 
 22. 
 
 How  from  the  first  Grace  wrought  within 
 
 To  wake  us  from  the  death  of  sin  ; 
 
 By  crosses  kind,  by  trials  wise, 
 
 Our  treacherous  hearts  to  undisguise  : 
 
 I  Eph.  i.  10.  hi.  15.   CoL  i.  20. 
 
50 
 
 23. 
 
 How  thro'  this  mystery  of  our  life, 
 Conflict  and  comfort,  peace  and  strife, 
 Grace  rear'd  us  gradual  from  our  fall : 
 — Then  shall  we  see, — then  praise  it  all. — 
 
 24. 
 
 Much  as,  e'en  now,  we  seem  to  know, 
 Our  amplest  knowledge,  gain'd  below, 
 Thus  will  it  vanish  all  away^ 
 In  Glory's  measureless  display  ! 
 
 25. 
 
 Nor  eye  hath  view'd,  nor  ear  hath  heard, 
 Nor  heart  conceiv'd,  the  scenes  deferr'd 
 For  those  who,  loving  God,  shall  prove 
 The  full  fruition  of  His  love.f 
 
 26. 
 
 Then  humbly  let  me  walk  below, 
 Who,  at  the  best,  so  faintly  know ! 
 Meekly  await,  with  Hope's  calm  eye, 
 The  blaze  of  immortality ! 
 
 *  1  Cor.  xiii.  8.  t  1  Cor.  ii.  9. 
 
51 
 
 27. 
 
 And  reverence  Thee,  Thou  Infinite, 
 So  far  transcending  thought  or  sight ! 
 Whose  glories,  gloriously  conceal'd, 
 Are  but  in  miniature  reveal'd  ! 
 
 28. 
 
 And  oh,  above  all  earthly  care, 
 Let  me  with  watchfulness  and  prayer, 
 With  strong,  with  undistracted  view, 
 Let  me  that  heavenly  world  pursue  ! 
 
 29. 
 
 That  good,  imperishable  part, 
 From  that  let  nothing  steal  my  heart ! 
 On  let  me  press  from  strength  to  strength, 
 Till  the  bright  s;oal  I  touch  at  length  ! 
 
 30. 
 
 And  if  temptations  yet  remain, 
 
 And  toils,  and  tears, — not  sent  in  vain  ; 
 
 Hath  not  the  Spirit's  aid  sufhYd, 
 
 The  love  of  God,  the  grace  of  Christ  f* 
 
 *2  Cor.  xiii.  ult. 
 Lame,  Sept.  1S19. 
 
52 
 
 JESUS  CHRIST,  THE  COMFORTER  OF 
 DISQUIETUDE. 
 
 "  When  the  Comforter  is  come,  He  shall  testify  of  Me." — 
 John  xv.  26. 
 
 "  Tu  requies  tranquilla.  pus.— Boethius.    (De  Consolatione.) 
 
 1. 
 
 WHEN  waken'd  Conscience  points,  within, 
 The  depths  and  labyrinths  of  sin ; 
 — Sin,  like  a  rebel  chaos,  wrought 
 In  act,  neglect,  and  oh,  in  thought ! 
 Sin,  where  suspected  least  it  lies, 
 Wrapt  in  Religion's  fair  disguise ; — • 
 Points  it,  and,  o'er  the  hideous  plan, 
 Adds  in  mute  thunder,  thourt  the  man  ! 
 
 2. 
 
 When  deep,  with  sympathising  Paul,* 
 I  feel  the  Spirit's  carnal  thrall ; 
 Feel  the  loath'd  serpent,  which  I  strive 
 Inly  to  crush, — still,  still  revive, 
 
 *  See  Rom.  vii.  14—24. 
 
53 
 
 Poisoning  my  peace ;  feel  lust  and  pride 
 Slow  to  expire,  though  crucified ; 
 While,  sold  to  sin,  enchain' d  to  clay, 
 Mine  eagle  Will  would  soar  away  ! 
 
 3. 
 
 When,  in  its  turn,  I  view  with  awe 
 The  flaming  contrast  of  the  Law ; — t 
 Eternal  standard !  in  each  part 
 Perfect,  and  piercing  to  the  heart !J 
 Demanding  all  the  glow  of  mind 
 In  universal  love  resign'd  ;§ 
 And  menacing  the  dafd  offence 
 With  death's  undying  consequence  ! 
 
 4. 
 
 When,  lost  in  themes  too  deep  and  high, 
 
 I  muse  on  Being's  mystery; 
 
 And  aim,  with  line  minute,  to  sound 
 
 Perfection's  fathomless  profound ; 
 
 Note. — Stanza  1,  the  consciousness  of  guilt;  st.  2,  the 
 power  of  sin;  st.  3,  the  law;  st.  4,  mysterious  dispensations  ; 
 st.  5,  affliction;  st.  6,  contemplation  of  death;  st.  7,  of  judg- 
 ment; st.  8,  of  eternity;  st.  9,  of  God;  st.  10 — 18,  Jesus 
 Christ,  the  corresponding,  universal  Comforter,  under  these 
 sources  of  disquietude. 
 
 t  Rom.  vii.  12,  14.         }  Heb.  iv.  12.  §  Rom.  xiii.  8—10. 
 
54 
 
 —Why  man  should  fall ;  why,  reft  of  light, 
 Lies  the  main  world  in  pagan  night ; 
 Why,  e'en  where  Heaven  sheds  radiance  round, 
 So  many  lost,  so  few  are  found  !# 
 
 5. 
 
 When  dark  Affliction,  o'er  my  way 
 Incumbent,  clouds  the  genial  day; — 
 Whether,  in  Nature's  languid  hour, 
 Her  ebbing  spirits  lose  their  power, 
 And  leave  the  breast,  they  else  illume, 
 In  nameless  and  mysterious  gloom ; 
 Or, — fortune,  health,  or  friendship  flown, — 
 Worn  with  my  pilgrimage  I  groan : 
 
 6. 
 
 When,  in  the  night-watch  lone  and  dread, 
 I  lie  conversing  with  the  devad ; 
 While  to  my  fever'd  view  appears, 
 In  all  his  awe,  the  king  of  fears ! 
 And  vain  imaginings  would  pierce 
 The  secrets  of  the  universe; 
 What  intermediate  scenes  await 
 The  spirit  in  unbodied  state ! 
 
 *  Matt,  xx.  16.  reiterated  xxii.  14. 
 
55 
 
 7. 
 
 When,  following  on  her  endless  path, 
 Pale  Fancy  paints  the  day  of  wrath  ; 
 Hears,  amid  wreck'd  creation's  groan, 
 The  trumpet ;  sees  the  great  white  throne  ;* 
 And  oh,  the  Judge,  whose  flame-like  eyes 
 Bid  consciousness  all  naked  rise ! 
 While  worlds  are  cited ;  yet  each  heart 
 Shrinks  to  itself,  and  mourns  apart  !f 
 
 8. 
 
 When  I  some  moments  ponder  thee, 
 Exhaustless  name,  Eternity ! 
 Some  moments : — who  can  fix  his  glance 
 Longer  on  infinite  expanse  I — 
 Then  think ;  Eternity  shall  roll 
 While,  man,  thy  co-eternal  soul 
 Lives  or  in  glory's  hallow'd  bliss, 
 Or  diesj  in  guilt's  abhorr'd  abyss ! 
 
 9. 
 
 When,  from  whate'er  hath  thus  o'eraw'd, 
 Excursive  thought  comes  home  to  God  ; 
 
 *  Rev.  xx.  11.  t  Zech.  xii.  14. 
 
 %  Rev.  xx.  1-1.  "This  is  the  second  death." 
 
56 
 
 Whose  power,  what  seraph  strain  can  tell  ? 
 —Heaven  in  His  smile,  His  frown  is  hell !— ~ 
 Whose  love,  oh,  how  shall  man  secure? 
 Whose  eyes,  insufferably  pure, 
 Brook  not  the  glance  of  sin !  whose  ire 
 Withers  the  soul,  immortal  fire  !* 
 
 10. 
 When  sinks  the  labouring  mind,  o'erfraught 
 With  dread  solemnities  of  thought ; 
 Where  shall  I,  dove-like,  flee  for  rest  If 
 Where  find  an  ark, — by  floods  opprest?J 
 — Midst  Nature's  silence,  hark,  a  voice 
 Bidding  the  desert  soul  rejoice  ! 
 Like  him,  who  erst  the  desert  trod, 
 And  cried,  "Behold !  the  Lamb  of  God !"§ 
 
 11. 
 He  comes  to  crush  the  tyrant,  Fear, 
 And  all  thy  varied  sadness  cheer. 
 Let  faith  but  grasp  Him,  in  distress ; 
 He  will  not  leave  thee  comfortless  !^f 
 *Hab.  i.  13.  Heb.  xii.  ult. 
 t  Ps.  Iv.  6.  tGen.  viii.  9.  §  John  i.  29,  36. 
 
 %  John  xiv.  16,  18.     Our  Saviour  emphatically  announces 
 
57 
 
 He  comes,  the'  unfailing  Friend  I  want, 
 My  natures's  inmost  confidant  ;* 
 To  whom  the'  unbosom'd  man  can  paint 
 Each  deep,  each  delicate  complaint ! 
 
 12. 
 
 He  to  the  billows  of  the  soul 
 Says,  Peace  ! — they  hear  His  deep  controul.f 
 Well,  on  His  cross,  the  Conqueror  cried, 
 (Not  that  the  groan  of  one  who  died*,) 
 Tis  finish'd  !J — Finish'd  there  the  plan, 
 That  wipes  thy  tears,  thou  mourner,  Man! 
 Finish'd  the  Peace,  for  which  we  pin'd,§ 
 The  One  vast  want  of  human  kind ! 
 
 13. 
 
 His  Spirit,  present  with  our  own, 
 Shares  each  unutterable  groan. ^f 
 
 the  Spirit  as  u  another  Comforter;"  implying  that  Himself  was 
 the  first,  and  that  the  consolations  of  the  Spirit  arise  peculiarly 
 from  His  "  testifying  of  Christ,  and  manifesting  Him  to  us." 
 
 *  "My  nature's  confidant." — Gambold.  (Hymns.) 
 
 t  Matt.  viii.  26.  %  John  xix.  30. 
 
 §  John  xiv.  27.     "Peace  I  leave  with  you,  My  peace  I  give 
 unto  you  : — let  not  your  heart  be  troubled." 
 
 1F  Rom.  viii.  10,20. 
 
58 
 
 We  bleed  with  guilt :  His  blood  like  balm, 
 
 The  soul- felt  agony  can  calm ; 
 
 He  is  our  sin!# — The  searching  Law 
 
 O'erwhelms  our  consciousness  with  awe : 
 
 His,  the  whole  living  Law  to'  express, 
 
 And  be  "the  Lord  our  righteousness !"f 
 
 14. 
 
 Mourn'st  thou  a  world,  inwrapt  in  glooms, 
 And  maz'd  in  mysteries  ? — He  illumes 
 The'  immense  obscure  none  else  could  pierce, 
 Sun  of  the  moral  universe  ! 
 Affliction,  what,  disarmed  of  sin, 
 Calm'd  by  the  smile  of  Christ  within  ? 
 What  the  last  foe,  tho'  terror's  king  ? 
 ■ — A  shadow,  J  guiltless  of  his  sting  ! 
 
 15. 
 
 The  Judge  enthron'd ! — oh  solemn  view  ! — 
 Yet  sweet, — that  Judge  the  Saviour  too  ! 
 He  who  each  pious  act,  each  sigh, 
 Mark'd  with  fraternal  sympathy ! 
 
 *2  Cor.  v.  ult.  t  Jer.  xxiii.  6.  I  Cor.  i.  30, 
 
 £"The  valley  of  the  shadow  of  Death/' — Ps.  xxiii.  4* 
 
59 
 
 — His  presence,  through  thine  unknown  vast, 
 Eternity,  with  awe  o'ercast, 
 Darts  brightness ;  and,  with  glorious  bliss, 
 Fills  what  were  else  a  dark  abyss  ! 
 
 16. 
 
 But  oh,  when  to  Thyself  I  raise 
 Mute  contemplation's  blinded  gaze, 
 Great  God! — then,  deepliest  then,  1  feel 
 Thy  Sons  omnipotence  to  heal. 
 He  turns  the  thunders  of  Thy  face 
 To  beamy  looks  of  boundless  grace ! 
 In  Him  hath  all  the  Father  smil'd 
 O'er  the  redeem'd,  adopted  child ! 
 
 17. 
 
 And  child-like  now,  as  meekly  bow'd, 
 The  man,  unruly  once,  and  proud ; 
 And  lamb-like,  dove-like  feelings  fill 
 His  bosom,  once  the  nest  of  ill. 
 Yet  grandeur  dwells  with  love  combin'd : 
 The  Spirit's  dower,  a  conqueror  mind! 
 Freedom,  that  wrests  from  Hell  its  rod, 
 Birthright  of  "  kings  and  priests  to  God  !"■ 
 
 *  Rev.  i.  6.     v.  10. 
 D  2 
 
60 
 
 18. 
 
 Saviour,  forgive  the'  imperfect  lays 
 That  mar,  yet  not  profane,  Thy  praise ! 
 ?Tis  worthier  hymn'd  at  Thy  right  hand : 
 —So  may  I  join  the'  enraptur'd  band ! — 
 Fresh  thro'  eternity,  their  strain 
 Centers  on  Thee,  as  newly  slain; 
 While,  with  His  own,  the'  all-bright  I  AM 
 Blends  the  sweet  glories  of  the  LAMBlf 
 
 t  Rev.  v.  6 — 14. 
 July,  1823. 
 
 LINES  IN  THE  NIGHT. 
 
 "  With  my  soul  have  i  desired  Thee  in  the  night  ;  yea,  with  my 
 
 sriRIT  WITHIN  ME  WILL  I  SEEK  THEE  EARLY."— Jsai.  XXVI.  9. 
 
 i\S  wakeful  on  my  couch  I  lie, — 
 While  darkness  reigns  o'er  earth  and  sky, 
 While  Nature  sleeps,  and  not  a  sound 
 Disturbs  the  lonely  calm  around ; — 
 Thoughts  upon  thoughts,  a  various  train, 
 Traverse  the  universe  in  vain. 
 
61 
 
 Yet  oh,  the  solemn  hour  redeem ! 
 Let  me  to  sleep  confine  my  dream  ; 
 Restored  to  reason,  leave  behind 
 The  trifles  which  profane  the  mind ; 
 And  swift,  o'er  all,  to  Thee  ascend, 
 ;  My  God,  my  Father,  and  my  Friend  !'* 
 
 In  Thee  alone  my  wandering  breast 
 Can  find  a  refuge  and  a  rest ; 
 '  Thou  only,  of  all  being,  art 
 A  portion  for  my  hungering  heart : 
 I  feel  it,  own  it :  oh,  to  me 
 That  refuge,  rest,  and  portion  be  ! 
 
 Fountain  supreme  of  life  and  light, 
 Whose  love  is  boundless  as  Thy  might; 
 Oh,  make  me  with  Thy  Spirit  one ; 
 Adopt  me  in  Thy  Saviour  Son; 
 Give  me  the  power  to  chuse  Thee  mine ; 
 Claim  all  my  heart,  and  fix  it  Thine  ! 
 
 *  A  line,  in  Lord  Roscommon's  version  of  the  "  Dies  Ine," 
 which  he  is  said  to  have  uttered,  with  devotional  energy,  at 
 the  moment  in  which  he  expired. — Johnson's  Life. 
 
62 
 
 Supplant,  expel,  replace  my  will ; 
 Yea,  with  Thine  own  my  nature  fill ; 
 And  keep  me,  midst  a  host  of  foes, 
 In  imperturbable  repose ! 
 
 How  vain,  how  desolate,- — from  Thee 
 Sever'd,  or  severing, — all  must  be  ! 
 How  sacred,  e'en  Affliction's  rod, 
 That  comes  from,  and  that  leads  to,  God ! 
 Union  with  Thee  gives  worth  to  all 
 That  doctrine,  blessing,  hope,  we  call : 
 What  is  Religion,  but  as  one 
 With  Thee,  as  radiance  with  the  sun  ? 
 Then  oh,  how  precious  He,  whose  cross 
 Lifts  from  interminable  loss 
 (A  mystic  ladder)  up  to  Thee, 
 And  rescues  Immortality ! 
 Who  pours  that  presence  on  our  souls, 
 Which  nature's  wretchedness  controuls ! 
 
 Lord,  when  I  muse, — as  thus  I  lie, 
 With  none  but  Thy  sweet  Spirit  nigh, — 
 On  all  that  Conscience  shows  within 
 Of  actual  crime,  of  secret  sin ; 
 
63 
 
 Sin,  "  against  Thee,  Thee  only,"  wrought,* 
 Unheard,  unutter'd,  sin  of  thought : 
 Then  muse  on  all  Thy  goodness  shed 
 Full  on  the'  ungrateful  rebel's  head; 
 Thy  providence  too  oft  abus'd, 
 
 Thy  love  unfelt,  Thy  voice  refus'd ; 
 
 With  mingling  sentiments  o'ercome, 
 
 I  sink ;  with  shame,  with  wonder,  dumb  ! 
 
 Yet  will  I  trust ;  so  clear  I  trace 
 Thine  unexhausted  power  and  grace  ; 
 Trust  that,  this  voyage  of  trial  o'er, 
 Safe  wilt  Thou  land  me  on  the  shore 
 
 Of  that  bright  world but  here  I  faint  : 
 
 That  bliss,  that  glory,  who  shall  paint? 
 Suffice  it, — where  no  sin  can  thrall, 
 No  sorrow;  Thou  art  all  in  ALLlf 
 Where  Thy  redeem'd,  a  countless  crowd, 
 Bask  in  a  sunshine  without  cloud ; 
 And  still,  the  more  of  Thee  they  learn, 
 The  more  with  rapturous  love  they  burn ; 
 While  all,  through  endless  being,  see, 
 Serve,  and  enjoy  Thee,  only  Thee  ! 
 
 Dec.  1822.  *  Ps.  li.  4.  t  1  Cor.  xv.  28 
 
64 
 
 THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 
 
 'HOW  DEEP  THE  SILENCE,  YET  HOW   LOUD  THE  PRAISE!" — BARBAULD. 
 
 1  WAS  midnight :  frost,  with  shrewd  and  silent 
 
 force, 
 Refin'd  the  air,  and  show'd  the  firmament 
 In  exquisite  transparency :  the  stars, 
 Those  populous  worlds,  shone  out  with  sharpen'd 
 
 beams : 
 — I  paus'd  upon  my  slippery  path  to  gaze, 
 And  drink  with  inward  ear  their  silent  song! 
 And  there  Orion,  in  his  golden  mail,f 
 Dazzles  the  eye ;  while,  opposite,  the  Bear 
 Erects  her  giant  constellation,  still 
 Watching  the  seaman's  polar  genius.J     Mars 
 Contrasts  his  fiery  and  malignant  glare 
 With  thy  sweet  sapphire,  Venus,  and  the  eye, 
 Lordly  and  large,  of  Jupiter.     There,  too, 
 
 t  "  Armatumque  auro  circumspicit  Oriona."-— Virgil. 
 $  The  magnetic  needle. 
 
65 
 
 Saturn,  in  melancholy  solitude, 
 
 Distant  and  dim;  while  nameless,  numberless, 
 
 Twinkle  the  minor  orbs,  and  seem  a  shower 
 
 Of  light,  with  spangling  drops  in  act  to  fall,* 
 
 Tho'  fix'd  for  ever;  and  the  Milky  Way 
 
 Girds  the  whole  heaven  as  with  a  mighty  band,f 
 
 Powder' d  with  worlds  like  dust, a  multitude 
 
 O'erwhelming  all  reflection ! 
 
 Well,  of  old, 
 — Contemplating,  in  ecstasy  devout, 
 This  vision  of  the  pregnant  universe, 
 Which  Xight  unveils,  when  earth  and  day  retire; — 
 Well  might  the'  anointed  bard  of  Israel  cry,J 
 '  Lord,  what  is  man!' — And  what  are  'they,  who  fill 
 Those  many  mansions  of  our  Father's  house,  ?§ 
 (His  the  whole  family  in  earth  and  heaven)*[ 
 Angels  or  men,  spirits  erect  or  fallen, 
 
 u  The  stars  that,  sprinkled  o'er  the  vault  of  night, 
 Seem  drops  descending  in  a  shower  of  light. " 
 
 CowPER,  Retirement. 
 
 •  Which  nightly  as  a  circling  zone  thou  seest 
 Powder'd  with  stars." — Milton. 
 
 i  Ps.  viii.  3,  4.  §  John  xiv.  2.  f  Ephes.  iii.  15. 
 
66 
 
 Fix'd,  or  on  trial  still  ? — for  who  can  think, 
 (Since  Newton  made  creation's  problem  clear,) 
 The  whole  a  splendid  pageant,  void  and  vain ; 
 Nor  seize  that  sage  and  spiritual  creed,# 
 Which  peoples  all  with  life,  and  consciousness, 
 And  glory  to  our  God !— But  who  can  tell  ? 
 — Not  Newton ! — Yet  be  patient ;  thou  shalt  know : 
 Walk  humbly  with  a  Saviour  God,  as  He 
 (Seen  in  His  works  though  dimly ;  in  His  word, 
 His  word  of  love  and  truth,  more  brightly  shown) 
 Hath  taught  thee,  oh,  how  graciously ! — and  soon, 
 Eternity's  dread  curtain  drawn  by  Death, 
 Soon  shalt  thou  enter  that  bright  world,  where  all 
 Is  clear ;  not  darkly,  nor  in  part  discern'd ; 
 Where  thou  shalt  read  at  ease  the  wondrous  book 
 Which  Newton,  child-like,  difficultly  scann'd.f 
 
 *  It  is  superfluous  to  remind  the  reader  of  Chalmers's  "  Dis- 
 courses on  the  Christian  Revelation,  viewed  in  connexion  with 
 the  Modern  Astronomy ;"  where  the  "creed"  referred  to  is 
 eloquently  advocated. 
 
 1 1  Cor.  xiii.  11,  12. 
 January,  1820. 
 
67 
 
 DEVOTIONAL  APOSTROPHI 
 
 May  i  express  Thee,  cnblam'd  t"— Milton. 
 
 INFINITE  Power!  alike  in  every  part 
 
 Of  Thine  illimitable  universe 
 
 Present  and  felt, — above,  beneath,  around ! 
 
 In  every  part  unseen,  for  creature  sense 
 
 Too  pure,  too  glorious; — since  e'en  Seraphim, 
 
 Those  burning  hierarchs  that  surround  Thy  throne 
 
 With  pauseless  adoration,  dare  not  gaze ; 
 
 But  stand  (as  tranc'd  Isaiah  saw  them  erst)* 
 
 Shadowing  with  all  their  wings,  eyes,  feet,  and  hands  ■ 
 
 — Oh,  may  the  meanest  of  Thy  creatures,  then, 
 
 (Yet  not  the  meanest,  as  by  Thine  own  touch 
 
 Thus  fearfully,  thus  wonderfully  wrought,f 
 
 Yea  gifted  with  immortal  mind)  to  Thee 
 
 Uplift  his  voice,  and  Thou  vouchsafe  to  hear ! 
 
 Oh  yes,  I  may,  I  will :  since  Thou  to  man 
 
 The  fulness  of  Thy  Godhead  hast  unveil'd 
 
 Incarnate  ;£  so  to  save  us  from  our  fall ; 
 
 Promis'd  Thy  strengthening  Spirit  to  our  prayers; 
 
 Yea  upon  all  Thy  works,  and  this  the  prime, 
 
 Inscrib'd,  as  with  a  sunbeam,  God  is  Love  ! 
 
 May,  1815.         *  Isai.  vi.  2.     t  Ps.  cxxxix.  14.     $  Coloss.  ii.  9. 
 
68 
 
 THE  SABBATH. 
 
 "  VULTUS  UBI  TUUS 
 
 Affulsit  populo;  gratior  it  dies, 
 Et  soles  melius  nitent." — Horace. 
 
 JlvETURN,  thou  wish'd  and  welcome  guest, 
 Thou  day  of  holiness  and  rest! 
 The  best,  the  dearest,  of  the  seven, 
 Emblem  and  harbinger  of  heaven ! 
 Tho'  not  the  Bridegroom, — at  his  voice, 
 Friend  of  the  Bridegroom,  still  rejoice!* 
 Day  doubly  sanctified  and  bless'd ! 
 Thee  the  Creator  crown' d  with  rest 
 From  all  His  works  :f  from  all  His  woes 
 On  thee  the  Saviour  found  repose.J 
 Thou  dost  with  mystic  voice  rehearse 
 The  birth-day  of  an  universe. 
 Prophet,  historian,  both,  in  scope, 
 Thou  speak'st  to  mem'ry  and  to  hope. 
 
 Amidst  this  earthliness  of  life, 
 Vexation,  vanity,  and  strife, 
 
 *  John  iii.  29.  t  Gen.  ii.  3.  $  John  xx.  19,  26. 
 
5 
 
 C  ::.-•  :  e:  tie  s:.l.  like  Itl:::  1 ;...-  . 
 
 (_  :ZLt5  -Lie   "It    It™"    ". '.    '.....'...'.  .1.  Z   'Z.'.-7»i~Ti. 
 
 Rciv-J-?  :.-:  t...:t,- .-     ;.  : erf. 
 
 TlilT  .:■»    •.     -: .     ■    :_.vt    r    ; 
 
 B  v.:  =::>-.  I  1:-    : 
 
 •  7. .  -    • . . . 
 
70 
 
 And  listen  to  that  living  word 
 Which  breathes  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord ; 
 Or,  at  the  mystic  table  plac'd, 
 Those  eloquent  mementos  taste 
 Of  Thee,  Thou  sufF'ring  Lamb  Divine, 
 Thy  soul-refreshing  bread  and  wine ; 
 Sweet  viands,  kindly  giv'n  to  swage 
 The  faintness  of  the  pilgrimage ! 
 
 Sever' d  from  Salem,  while  unstrung 
 His  harp  on  pagan  willows  hung,* 
 What  wonder  if  the  Psalmist  pin'd, 
 As  for  her  brooks  the  hunted  hind  !f 
 The  Temple's  humblest  place  would  win 
 Gladlier  than  all  the  pomp  of  sin !  J 
 Envied  the'  unconscious  birds  that  sung, 
 Around  those  altars,  o'er  their  young ! 
 And  deem'd  one  heav'nly  Sabbath  worth 
 More  than  a  thousand  days  of  earth ! 
 Well  might  his  harp  and  heart  rejoice 
 To  hear,  once  more,  that  festal  voice ; 
 
 *  Ps.  cxxxxvii.  1.  t  Ps.  xlii.  1.  t  Ps.  lxxxiv.  2, 10. 
 
71 
 
 "  Come,  brethren,  come  !  with  glad  accord, 
 "  Haste  to  the  dwelling  of  the  Lord  !"* 
 
 But  if,  on  earth,  so  calm,  so  blest, 
 The  house  of  prayer,  the  day  of  rest ; 
 If  to  the  spirit,  when  it  faints, 
 So  sweet  the'  assembly  of  the  saints  ; — 
 Here  let  us  pitch  our  tent  (we  say) 
 For,  Lord,  with  Thee  'tis  good  to  stay  ;§ 
 Yet  from  the  mount  we  soon  descend, 
 Too  soon  these  earthly  Sabbaths  end, 
 Cares  of  a  work-day  world  return, 
 And  faint  our  hearts,  and  fitful,  burn  : — 
 Oh  think,  my  soul !  beyond  compare, 
 Think  what  a  Sabbath  must  be  there,! 
 Where  all  is  holy  bliss,  that  knows 
 Nor  imperfection,  nor  a  close ; 
 Where  that  innumerable  throng, 
 Of  saints  and  angels,  mingle  song; 
 Where,  wrought  with  hands,  no  temples  rise 
 For  God  himself  their  place  supplies ; 
 
 Ps.  cxxxii.  1.  S  Matt.  xvii.  1.  t  Heb.  iv.  9. 
 
72 
 
 Nor  priests  are  needed  in  the'  abode 
 Where  the  whole  host  are  priest^  to  God  :§ 
 Think  what  a  Sabbath  there  shall  be, 
 The  Sabbath  of  Eternity! 
 
 §  Rev.  xxi.  22.— v.  10. 
 
 May,  1820.   Inserted  in  u  Remarks  on  the  Fourth  Command- 
 ment9}'  a  tract  by  the  Author, 
 
 —*f<****<48fnfUWl*jr— 
 
 THE  NATIVITY. 
 
 'Jam  nova  progenies  ccelo  demittitur  alto. "—Virgil's  Pollio. 
 
 AS  stars  of  night,  when  morn  is  near, 
 The  shadowy  prophets  disappear ; 
 And  lo,  with  healing  in  his  wings, 
 The  Sun  of  Righteousness  up-springs ! 
 
 One  star  of  morn,  yet  lingering,  one, 
 Rises  the  herald  of  that  Sun ; 
 One  voice  that  soon  shall  sound  abroad, 
 '  Behold,  behold!  the  Lamb  of  God!5 
 
73 
 
 Hark,  from  that  cloud  of  angels  bright, 
 What  heavenly  music  charms  the  night 
 With — oh  what  words !  a  Saviour  s  birth, — 
 Glory  to  God, — peace,  peace  on  earth ! 
 
 Well  may  the  shepherds  catch  the  sound, 
 Well  spread  the  rapture  swift  around ; 
 Tis  "  that  great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep"* 
 Come,  with  His  blood  His  own  to  keep ! 
 
 And  Simeon  hears  with  kindling  heart; 
 '  Lord,  'tis  enough ;  let  now  depart 
 Thy  servant,  since  his  aged  eyes 
 Have  seen  the  Light  of  nations  rise ! 
 
 And  lo,  the  star-led  Magi  haste 
 To  Salem,  o'er  the  eastern  waste : 
 — The  wondrous  infant  is  not  here ; 
 Yet  is  high-fated  Bethlehem  near : 
 
 The  heavenly  manger  they  explore  ; 
 Display  their  treasures ;  and  adore, 
 With  frankincense,  with  gold,  and  myrrh, 
 The  God,  the  King,  the  Passover. 
 
 *  Heb.  xiii.  20. 
 
74 
 
 Ah,  shall  I  view,  nor  with  them  kneel  ? 
 A  Christian,  short  of  pagan  zeal ! 
 — I'll  ope  the  casket  of  my  heart ; 
 The  gold  of  bounty  thence  impart ; 
 
 The  myrrh  of  penitential  tears; 
 The  frankincense  of  praise  and  prayers  :# 
 — My  God,  my  Saviour,  and  my  King, 
 Accept— thine  own — the  gifts  I  bring ! 
 
 ♦Justin,  Tertullian,  IrenaBus,  and  Origen  concur  in  this 
 explanation,  which,  even  if  considered  as  fanciful,  proves  in 
 what  light  these  primitive  Christians  regarded  the  person  of 
 our  Lord.  (See  Whitby's  note,  Matt,  ii.)  Myrrh  was  used 
 among  the  '  bitter  herbs'  commanded  to  be  eaten  with  the 
 paschal  lamb  ;  and  they  gave  our  suffering  Saviour  wine  min- 
 gled with  myrrh  ;  Nicodemus  embalmed  his  body  with  myrrh. 
 —With  regard  to  gold  and  fankincense,  they  are  specified  by 
 Isaiah  (lx.  6.)  in  a  passage  which,  together  with  Ps,  Ixxii  10. 
 rabbi  Kimchi  applies  to  king  Messiah. 
 
 December,  1813. 
 
75 
 
 THE  EUCHARIST. 
 
 "This  do  in  remembrance  of  Me!"— Jescs  Christ. 
 
 X ALK  not  of  bread!  the  soul,  entranc'd,  but  eyes 
 That  heavenly  form,  so  buffetted  and  bruis'd : 
 
 Talk  not  of  wine !  the  soul,  entranc'd,  descries 
 That  brow,  that  side,  with  healing  blood  suffus'd: 
 
 Nor  tell  me  of  a  consecrated  board ! 
 
 Hence  with  the  wings  of  wafting  faith  1  rove; 
 On  Golgotha,  before  the'  expiring  Lord, 
 
 I  bend  in  grief,  astonishment,  and  love. 
 
 Sweet  is  the  liquid  grape  to  him  that  glows 
 
 With  gasping  thirst,  or  bread  to  starv'd  distress; 
 
 But  sweeter  far  a  Saviour's  death  to  those 
 Who  thirst  and  hunger  after  righteousness.f 
 
 Oh,  as  the  branch  is  nourish'd  by  the  vine, 
 
 (Thou,  Saviour,  art  the  vine,  the  branches  we)| 
 
 Still  may  our  spirits  in  this  mystic  wine 
 Drink  life,  health,  beauty,  joy,  fertility  ! 
 
 t  Matt.  v.  6.     John  vi.  35.  |  John  xv.  5. 
 
 December,  1814. 
 
76 
 
 EXPOSTULATION  WITH  PRIDE. 
 
 "Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit." — Jesus  Christ. 
 'Learn  of  Me,  for  i  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."— The  same. 
 
 1. 
 
 WHAT  hast  thou,  thou  dost  not  receive, 
 
 Or  on  thyself  bestow'st? 
 Then  wherefore,  as  'twere  thine  to  give, 
 
 Oh,  wherefore  dost  thou  boast  !# 
 
 2. 
 A  creature,  momently  supplied 
 
 With  mind's,  with  body's  food : 
 And  quitt'st  thou  not  thy  harden'd  pride 
 
 For  prostrate  gratitude  ? 
 
 3. 
 
 A  sinner: — one  vain-glorious  thought, 
 
 A  sinner,  dar'st  thou  nurse  ? 
 Thou  who,  with  guiltiness  o'erfraught, 
 
 Deserv'st  the  Almighty's  curse ! 
 
 *  1  Cor.  iv.  7. 
 
77 
 
 4. 
 
 A  Christian  : — yes,  of  Jesus  think, 
 And,  if  thou  canst,  be  proud ! 
 
 Him  who,  to  save  thee  from  hell-brink, 
 To  thine  His  nature  bow'd : 
 
 5. 
 
 His  nature,  glorious,  yea  Divine, 
 
 O'er  all  above,  beneath ; 
 To  thine  in  humblest  form,  to  thine 
 
 In  shame,  toil,  suffering,  death  !f 
 
 6. 
 
 Think,  destin'd  to  what  end  wert  thou, 
 Had  pride  supplanted  grace 
 
 In  Him! — and  think,  unhumbled,  how 
 Canst  thou  behold  His  face  ! 
 
 7. 
 
 Ponder  that  motive  ;  and  abjure 
 
 All  self-inflated  leaven  ; 
 And  watch  and  pray,  till  thou  art  poor 
 
 In  spirit,  meet  for  heaven ! 
 
 t  Philip,  ii.  6—8. 
 
78 
 
 8. 
 
 For  God  resists,  abhors  the  proud, 
 
 But  gives  the  lowly  grace,* 
 And  makes  the  bosom  inly  bow'd, 
 
 Like  heaven,  His  dwelling-place.f 
 
 9. 
 
 A  spirit,  touch'd  with  godly  smart, 
 
 Is  God's  best  sacrifice ; 
 A  broken  and  a  contrite  heart 
 
 Thou,  Lord,  wilt  ne'er  despise.J 
 
 10. 
 
 Then  make  me  as  the  weaned  child,f[ 
 
 From  pride,  from  passion  free, 
 Dependent,  diffidently  mild, 
 
 Cloth'd  with  humility  !§ 
 
 n. 
 Ambitious,  not  the  foremost  place 
 
 To  win,  but  to  decline ; 
 Esteeming  in  true  lowliness, 
 
 All  merit  wo^e  than  mine  ;|j 
 
 *  1  Peter  v.  5.  t  Isaiah  lvii.  15.  $  Ps.  li.  17. 
 
 f  Ps.  cxxxi.  3.  and  Matt,  xviii.  4.  §  1  Peter  v.  5 
 
 ||  Philip,  ii.  3. 
 
79 
 
 12. 
 
 Esteeming  far  too  good  for  me 
 Whate'er  Thy  grace  hath  sent ; 
 
 Hence  humble  in  a  high  degree, 
 Or  in  a  low  content. § 
 
 13. 
 
 Let  me  regard  with  meekness  all, 
 (Whom  should  I  dare  with  pride  ?) 
 
 Like  me  the  children  of  one  fall, 
 For  whom  one  Saviour  died  : 
 
 14. 
 
 Thus  let  me  yield  my  heart  to  Him, 
 
 Till  self  be  quite  forgot, 
 Or  but  remember' d  as  the  theme 
 Of  meek  and  thankful  thought. 
 §Phil.iv.ll. 
 January,  1816. 
 
80 
 
 CONSECRATION  OF  THE  HEART  TO  GOD. 
 
 "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature."— 2  Cor.  v.  IT. 
 
 JN  O  more  the  things  of  earth  and  sin 
 
 Infatuate  I  pursue : 
 Art,  knowledge,  glory, — oh  how  vain, 
 
 Yet  once  how  priz'd I- — adieu. 
 
 The  knowledge  of  my  Saviour,  now, 
 
 The  art  of  heavenly  love, 
 The  glory  of  the  cross  below, 
 
 Of  the  redeem'd  above  ; 
 
 This,  oh  my  God,  is  all  my  want, 
 
 My  wish,  my  prayer,  my  bliss : 
 Grant  me  of  this  but  more  and  more, 
 
 And  aught  deny  but  this ! 
 
 Only  may  Thy  sweet  Spirit  still, 
 
 While  here  I  walk  by  faith, 
 To  this  poor  heart  apply  the  power 
 
 Of  Christ,  His  life,  His  death  ! 
 
81 
 
 Only  thro'  Him,  my  all  in  all, 
 That  heart,  else  grovelling,  raise, 
 
 To  see  Thy  glory,  feel  Thy  love, 
 And  live  Thine  endless  praise  ! 
 
 October,  1S16. 
 
 THE  NECESSITY  AND  SUFFICIENCY  OF 
 DIVINE  GRACE. 
 
 "WHEN   I  AM  WEAK,  THEN  AM   I  STRONG."— St.  PAUL. 
 
 1. 
 
 _N  OT  Saviour,  in  Thy  gracious  mind, 
 'Tis  in  ourselves  we  stand  confin'd: 
 Look'd  we  but  steadfastly  to  Thee, 
 Oh  then  we  should  indeed  be  free  !* 
 
 2. 
 
 How  long  we  labour  on  in  vain, 
 
 The  peace  of  holiness  to'  attain  ; 
 
 Ere,  arm'd  with  faith,  we  find  at  length 
 
 Our  sole  sufficiency,  Thy  strength  !f 
 
 *  John  viii.  36.  t  John  xv.  5.  Philip,  it.  13.  2  Tim.  ii.  1. 
 
82 
 
 3. 
 
 At  times  we  deem  our  struggles  o'er, 
 Then  feel  them  fiercer  than  before : 
 — 'Twas  but  the  damming  of  a  rill, 
 To  let  it  burst  more  wildly  still. 
 
 4. 
 
 Oh,  who  can  paint  the  natural  heart, 
 Its  pride,  idolatry,  and  art  ?* 
 Or  what  can  meet  its  desperate  case, 
 What,  but  the'  infinitude  of  grace  ? 
 
 5. 
 
 Ask,  and  receive,  and  joy  !f — the  saint, 
 Still  let  him  pray,  shall  never  faint  ;J 
 But — faith,  and  hope,  and  love  to  raise — 
 His  prayer  shall  brighten  into  praise. 
 
 *  Jer.  xvii.  9.  t  John  xvi.  24.  $  Luke  xviii.  1. 
 
 1820. 
 
83 
 
 ON  READING  THE  BIBLE. 
 
 'Qui  legis  hunc  librcm,  quid  nisi  ci'ncta  legis?" 
 
 BLESSED  Bible!  what  a  treasure 
 
 Does  this  heavenly  mine  afford ! 
 Wisdom,  holiness,  and  pleasure  ! 
 
 — Tis,  indeed,  the  Spirit's  sword ! — 
 Daily  I'll  redeem  my  leisure 
 
 In  the  converse  of  Thy  word ; 
 Daily  here,  in  ampler  measure, 
 
 Seek  and  find  Thy  blessing,  Lord  ! 
 
 1820. 
 
 THE  BROOK  AND  THE  FOUNTAIN. 
 
 A  COMPARISON. 
 
 1. 
 
 LiO,  yon  torrent  proudly  dashing! 
 — Canst  thou  think,  its  foamy  flashing 
 Comes  and  passes  with  the  storm  ? 
 — Yes ;  return  the  sunshine  warm  ; 
 e2 
 
84 
 
 Ah,  deceitful  all,  and  dry, 
 ?Twill  but  mock  thine  asking  eye : 
 Vainly,  pilgrim,  search  around, 
 Where  no  more  its  place  is  found ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Seize  the  lesson.     Earthly  treasure, 
 Creature  glory,  carnal  pleasure, 
 All  the  hopes  that  worldlings  cherish, — 
 So  they  flash,  and  so  they  perish ! 
 Like  that  wasted  brook,  they  leave  us ; 
 In  the  hour  of  need,  deceive  us  : 
 Oh,  how  light  they  prove,  how  lying, 
 To  the  desolate, — the  dying ! 
 
 3. 
 
 But  the  pilgrim,  tir'd  and  thirsting, 
 If  he  spy  a  fountain  bursting, 
 Bursting  full  and  fresh  and  free ; — 
 Who  can  tell  how  joyous  he? 
 For  the  treacherous  rills  are  dry, 
 And  all  nature  seems  to  die  : 
 — Drink,  poor  pilgrim,  drink  thy  fill ! 
 ?Tis  a  spring;  no  rain-born  rill. 
 
85 
 
 4. 
 
 Such  a  never- failing  fountain 
 Flows  from  Sion's  heavenly  mountain, 
 For  the  soul  that  thirsting  faints : 
 — There,  from  age  to  age,  the  saints, 
 While  around  them  all  things  wither, 
 Quaff  immortal  life :  and  thither, 
 Oh,  when  flesh  and  spirit  sink, 
 Saviour,  let  me  come  to  drink ! 
 
 If  so  sweet  its  earthly  course, 
 Sweeter  the  supernal  Source. 
 
 *  See  Job  vi.  15—20.    Jer.  ii.  13.    John  iv.  10. — vii.  37. 
 Rev.  xxi.tf.    xxii.  17. 
 
 July,  1820. 
 
86 
 
 THE  EAGLE  AND  THE  HEN. 
 
 A  COMPARISON. 
 Deut.  xxxii.  11.  combined  with  Matt,  xxiv.  37.* 
 
 1. 
 
 AS  the  eagle  o'er  her  brood 
 
 Flutters  wide  her  shadowing  wings, 
 Stirs  their  spirit,  finds  their  food, 
 
 Takes  them,  bears  them,  as  she  springs : 
 Thus,  of  old,  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
 
 Cloth'd  with  majesty  and  dread, 
 Midst  their  foes,  through  desert  coasts, 
 
 Israel's  sons  to  triumph  led. 
 
 2. 
 
 As  the  hen,  with  gentlest  care, 
 
 Under  her  maternal  breast 
 Hides  her  young, — how  happy  there  ! 
 
 Safe  from  harm,  and  hush'd  to  rest : 
 
 *Note.  The  Deity  of  Jesus  Christ  appears  in  the  latter 
 passage,  in  which  He  appropriates  the  same  character  of  pa- 
 rental care  over  Israel,  which  Jehovah  had  appropriated  in 
 the  former.  The  Jesus  Christ  of  the  New  Testament  is  one 
 with  the  Jehovah  of  the  Old. 
 
87 
 
 Thus  our  Saviour,  full  of  grace, 
 On  the  faint  and  frail  bestows, 
 
 — When  they  seek  His  love's  embrace, — 
 Sure  defence  and  sweet  repose. 
 
 3. 
 
 Fain  Thy  nursling  here  below, 
 
 Lord,  beneath  Thy  parent  wing,f 
 Still  from  strength  to  strength  would  grow, 
 
 Gradual  taught  to  mount  and  sing : 
 Till  this  low,  this  darkling  nest 
 
 Call'd  to  leave,  he  soar  away, 
 Ripe  in  spirit,  voice,  and  vest, 
 
 Soar  and  sing  in  boundless  day! 
 
 +  Compare  Ps.  xci.  4.    ciii.  5.    Isai.  xl.  lilt. 
 August,  1820. 
 
 GIDEON'S  FLEECE. 
 
 AS  EMBLEM. 
 
 Judges  vi  37,  &c. 
 
 HE  spread  the  fleece  beneath  the  midnight  sky; 
 'Twas  drunk  with  dew,  though  all  around  was  dry: 
 
Again  he  spread  it,  wondering  at  the  view; 
 'Twas  dry,  though  all  around  was  moist  with  dew. 
 So,  while  neglected  nations  pin'd  around, 
 Israel  alone  with  showers  of  grace  was  crown' d ; 
 So  Israel  pines  neglected,  while  descend 
 Those  gracious  showers,  the  nations  to  befriend. 
 
 THE  ANCHOR  OF  HOPE. 
 
 AN  ASPIRATION. 
 
 Heb.  vi.  19,  20. 
 
 THAT  hope  be  mine !  that  anchor  of  the  soul, 
 Steadfast  and  sure,  howe'er  life's  billows  roll ; 
 Which,  grappling  fast  its  unseen  ground,  doth  lie 
 Deep  in  the  ocean  of  Eternity ; 
 And  binds  us  to  that  blest  and  boundless  shore, 
 Where  the  great  Captain,  landed  safe  before, 
 Now  waits  to  welcome  home  each  wave- worn  bark: 
 — Oh,  be  that  hope  my  anchor,  heaven  my  mark! 
 
89 
 
 A  FAREWELL  SENTIMENT. 
 
 'What  are  Meetings,  here,  but  Partikcs: 
 
 1. 
 
 WHAT  are  meetings,  here,  but  partings? 
 What  are  ecstasies,  but  sniartings  ? 
 Unions  what,  but  separations  I 
 What  attachments,  but  vexations  ? 
 Every  smile  but  brings  its  tear, 
 Love  its  ache,  and  hope  its  fear ; 
 All  that's  sweet,  must  bitter  prove  ; 
 All  that  most  we  clasp, —  remove  ! 
 
 2. 
 Foes  may  harm  us ;  but  the  dearest 
 Ever,  here,  are  the  severest : 
 Sorrows  wound  us ;  but  we  borrow 
 From  delight  the  keenest  sorrow : 
 Tis  to  love  our  farewells  owe 
 All  their  emphasis  of  woe  : 
 Most  it  charms,  that  most  annoys : 
 Joys  are  griefs,  and  griefs  are  joys  ! 
 
90 
 
 3. 
 
 Who  his  treasur'd  heart  would  center 
 Where,  disguis'd,  his  foes  must  enter  I 
 Who  to  brief  and  treacherous  pleasure 
 Infinite  desires  would  measure  ? 
 Still  the'  imbitterd  dream  of  bliss 
 Pining  woo, — the  substance  miss  ? 
 Is  the  richest  fruit  we  gain, 
 Pleasure,  ripening  into  pain  ? 
 
 4. 
 
 Heavenward  rise !  'tis  Heaven  in  kindness 
 Mars  thy  bliss,  to  heal  thy  blindness ; 
 Hope  from  vanity  to  sever ; 
 Offering  joys  that  bloom  for  ever, 
 In  that  amaranthine  clime, 
 Far  above  the  tears  of  time, 
 Where  nor  fear,  nor  hope,  intrude, 
 Lost  in  pure  beatitude  ! 
 
 April,  1821. 
 
91 
 
 LINES  AT  PARTING. 
 
 YES,  dearest  friends,  a  short  farewell, 
 
 Till  soon  at  home  we  meet ! 
 Oft  shall  remembrance  fondly  dwell 
 On  days  and  scenes  that  own'd  the  spell 
 
 Of  your  communion  sweet: 
 
 So  sweet,  at  times  it  seem'd  a  faint, 
 
 A  transitory  taste 
 Of  converse  treasur'd  for  the  saint 
 In  the  bright  world — which  who  shall  paint  ? 
 
 The  heaven,  to  which  we  haste  ! 
 
 For  oh,  of  less  than  heavenly  mould 
 
 Our  friendship  ne'er  shall  be  : 
 Not,  like  the  world's,  by  death  controll'd, 
 But  fervent,  pure ;  and  we,  enroll'd 
 
 Friends  for  eternity ! 
 
 Safe  in  that  union,  to  be  woo'd 
 
 All  others  far  beyond  ! 
 Our  hearts  with  holy  love  imbued, 
 Yea  the  whole  inner  man  renew' d : 
 
 Unutterable  bond ! 
 
92 
 
 So,  when  on  earth  we  cease  to  dwell 
 
 In  pilgrim  converse  sweet ; 
 We'll  need  no  other  parting-knell 
 Than '  dearest  friends,  a  short  farewell, 
 
 Till  soon  at  home  we  meet !' 
 
 Ilfracomhe,  Aug.  1822. 
 
 ON  LEAVING  AN  ENDEARED  SEA-SIDE  SCENE. 
 
 FAREWELL,  thou  much-lov'd  bay,  farewell! 
 
 — Long  in  this  breast  thy  scene  shall  dwell, 
 
 With  the  sweet  images  entwin'd 
 
 Of  friends,  how  excellent  and  kind ! 
 
 With  whom  so  oft  I  here  convers'd, 
 
 While  the  white  breakers  round  us  burst. 
 
 Here  on  a  rock  we  still  reclin'd 
 
 In  placid  interchange  of  mind ; 
 
 And  each  to  each  would  here  disclose 
 
 Their  tenderest  joys,  their  inmost  woes. 
 
 Oh  may  that  scene  an  emblem  be ! 
 — Amidst  yon  world's  tumultuous  sea, 
 
93 
 
 E'en  when  its  fiercest  billows  shock, 
 So  may  we  rest  on  Christ  the  Rock ! 
 So  may  we  ever  find  repose 
 In  the  sweet  bay  His  church  bestows ! 
 And  still,  uninjur'd  and  serene, 
 Hold  converse  with  a  Friend  unseen  ; 
 To  Him  our  griefs,  our  joys,  impart; 
 And  grow  with  Jesus  one  in  heart ! 
 Ilfracombe,  Aug.  1822. 
 
 ////^ij./y/// 
 
 ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  LADY. 
 
 SHE's  gone ! — the  smile  of  nature,  form'd  by  grace, 
 Sat  beautiful  upon  her  blooming  face  ; 
 But  when  so  beautiful  as  that  which  stole 
 O'er  her  pale  cheek,  while  heaven  received  the  soul? 
 She's  gone  ! — how  placidly  thro'  life  she  mov'd 
 Heavenward !  how  loving,  lovely,  and  belov'd  ! 
 Yet  what  hath  life,  compar'd  with  such  a  death? 
 The  dark  vale  sun-guilt  to  the  eye  of  faith  ! 
 She  lay  imparadis'd ;  her  chamber's  gloom 
 A  ministering  spirit  seem'd  to'  illume  ; 
 
94 
 
 A  holy  cairn  breath'd  o'er  the  listening  band ; 
 Earth  was  shut  out,  and  heaven  was  felt  at  hand. 
 
 So  let  us  live,  for  so  we  fain  would  die ! — 
 All  will  be  over  soon ;  on  each  dim  eye 
 Earth  will  roll  backward,  dream-like;  and  behold, 
 Eternity,  Eternity,  unfold ! 
 Oh,  what  will  then  sustain  us,  but  the  thought 
 That  here,  like  her,  the  better  part  we  sought ! 
 And  liv'd,  as  purchas'd  with  a  Saviour's  blood, 
 As  hallow'd  by  the  Spirit  of  our  God ! 
 
 May,  1817. 
 
 REFLECTIONS  ON  MARRIAGE. 
 
 WRITTEN  FOR  A  FRIEND. 
 
 "Felices  ter  et  amplius, 
 quos  irrupta  tenet  copula !"— horace. 
 
 1. 
 
 JOY  demands  a  social  range ; 
 "lis  an  import,  an  exchange ; 
 
95 
 
 Joy  abhors  monopolists  ;* 
 Solitary  ne'er  exists. 
 
 What  are  all  the  charms  of  earth, 
 All  its  pride,  its  treasure,  worth, 
 "With  no  partner  at  your  side, 
 Thoughts  and  feelings  to  divide  ? 
 
 3. 
 
 In  the  lonely  bosom  pent, 
 Joy  expires,  as  wanting  vent ; 
 Soon  corrupts,  without  relief, 
 Into  undivided  grief. 
 
 4. 
 Partners  halve  partaken  trouble, 
 Make  partaken  pleasure  double  : 
 Parted  floods  more  calmly  flow, 
 Parted  flames  more  brightly  glow. 
 
 5. 
 
 Yes,  believe, — whate'er  we  find 
 Soothing  or  to  sense  or  mind, — 
 
 *  "  Joy  is  an  import ;  joy  is  an  exchange ; 
 Joy  flees  monopolists." — Young,  Night  2. 
 
96 
 
 Love,  at  last,  must  prove  the  prize 
 Which  all  others  far  outvies. 
 
 6. 
 
 Therefore  God,  with  gracious  plan, 
 Saw,  and  said,  and  show'd  that  man 
 Ne'er  was  made  to  live  alone : 
 — Therefore  Marriage  first  was  known  : 
 
 7. 
 
 Mystic  symbol  of  that  bond, 
 All  terrestrial  ties  beyond, 
 Which  redeeming  mercy  'twixt 
 Jesus  and  His  church  hath  fix'd  ;f 
 
 8. 
 
 'Twixt  the  Spirit,  hallowing  each, 
 And  the  heart  He  deigns  to  teach : 
 — In  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride 
 See  Religion  typified ! 
 
 9. 
 
 He,  in  whom  perfection  dwells, 
 Whose  beatitude  excels 
 Thought  or  utterance;  He  is  Love, J 
 All  His  characters  above  ! 
 
 t  Isaiah  Ixii.  4.  5.     Eph.  v.  25—32.  $  1  John  iv.  8,  16. 
 
97 
 
 10. 
 
 Ah,  without  His  deep  communion, 
 What  is  nature's  tenderest  union  ? 
 Tis  no  portion  for  the  soul, 
 Joy  to  fix,  or  grief  control. 
 
 11. 
 In  His  central  friendship  lie 
 Germes  of  every  other  tie  ; 
 All  the  sympathies  of  nature 
 Bind  the  heart  to  its  Creator. 
 
 12. 
 
 Where  His  Spirit  loves  to  dwell, 
 Heaven  hath  fill'd  the  martyr's  cell : 
 Heaven  is  shadow'd  in  His  word, 
 As  the  bridal  of  the  Lord  !§ 
 
 13. 
 
 — Call  not  these,  enthusiast  dreams  : 
 Duly  scann'd,  creation  teems 
 With  resemblances  of  things, 
 Natural,  to  their  heavenly  springs : 
 
 §  Rev.  xxi.  2,  9. 
 
98 
 
 14. 
 
 When  Religion  clears  our  sight 
 With  her  spiritual  light, 
 All  this  universe  we  view 
 Emblematic  of  the  new. 
 
 15. 
 
 In  the  nuptial  law  we  find 
 Love,  the  loveliest  in  its  kind ; 
 Twain  in  one  united  whole, 
 One  in  body,  one  in  soul. 
 
 16. 
 
 Well  the  bard,  who  sings  of  man 
 Pure  and  blest  as  he  began, 
 Pauses  midst  his  glorious  tale, 
 "  Wedded  love,"  to  bid  thee  "  hail  !"* 
 
 17. 
 
 Adam,  till  complete  with  Eve, 
 E'en  in  Paradise  must  grieve  : 
 Sure,  then,  Marriage  comes  to  bless 
 Outcasts  in  the  wilderness. 
 
 *  "  Hail,  wedded  love  \"  &c. — Par.  Lost,  b.  iv.  750. 
 
99 
 
 18. 
 
 Like  the  Spirit  whence  it  rose, 
 From  this  nether  fountain  flows 
 Virtuous  and  delicious  feeling, 
 Checking  sin,  and  sorrow  healing. 
 
 19. 
 
 True,  amidst  a  world  like  this, 
 Oft  its  end  will  Marriage  miss  : 
 True,  as  well  or  ill  we  sow, 
 Only  will  the  harvest  grow. 
 
 20. 
 
 Where  no  heavenly  love  is  found, 
 There  can  human  long  abound  ? 
 Iron,  there,  the  silken  chain ; 
 JTis  mere  doubleness  of  pain ! 
 
 21 
 
 — But  your  heaven-directed  choice, 
 Pious  pair,  exclaims,  '  Rejoice !' 
 Yours  the  cup  that  seems  to  fall 
 Rich  in  honey,  pure  from  gall. 
 
 22. 
 
 Leaving  vanity  and  smart, 
 Ye  pursue  the  better  part ; 
 F 
 
100 
 
 In  the  love  of  joys  above 
 Ye  exalt  the  joys  of  love. 
 
 23. 
 
 So  shall  holier  love  secure 
 Human  ties  more  sweet  and  pure ; 
 So  these  human  ties  shall  prove 
 Means  to  aid  that  holier  love. 
 
 24. 
 
 So,  your  trial  done,  from  this 
 School  and  type  of  perfect  bliss, 
 Ye,  rejoicing  in  the  skies, 
 To  the  Marriage-feast  shall  rise ! 
 
 Weymouth,  Sept.  1820. 
 
 — ++&^&ir*++*+*~- - 
 
 INSCRIPTION  IN  A  BATHING-MACHINE. 
 
 A.H,  hast  thou  come  from  far,  to'  immerse 
 A  frame  of  dust  in  ocean's  wave  ? 
 
 Nor  yet  from  sin's  deep  guilt  and  curse 
 Car'st  an  undying  soul  to  save  ? 
 
101 
 
 — Seek,  while  thou  may'st,  a  Saviour's  blood, 
 That  sea,  to  cleanse  the  conscience  given ; 
 
 And  ask  the  Spirit  of  our  God 
 To  change  thy  heart,  and  form  for  heaven ! 
 Lyme,  Aug.  1819. 
 
 WRITTEN  ON  A  PROSPECT-SEAT. 
 
 IE  glorious  scenes  !  if  such  your  glory  be, 
 If  such  the  wondering  rapture  ye  inspire ; 
 Oh  think  of  Heaven !  oh  think,  that  God  to  see, 
 Whom,  in  His  lowest  works,  we  thus  admire ! 
 
 Lyme,  Aug.  1819. 
 AD  PATREM  SENESCENTExM,  IN  NATALEM  SUUM. 
 
 IES,  thou  hast  reach'd  another  year 
 Of  nature's  mild  decay : 
 
102 
 
 And  yet  I  felt  a  filial  fear, 
 
 When  last  I  hail'd  the  day, 
 Thy  beckon'd  spirit  might,  ere  this, 
 Have  reach' d  its  destiny  of  bliss ; 
 
 — Strange  love,  to  envy  thee  thy  heaven, 
 And  keep  thee  in  our  vale  of  tears ! — 
 But  selfish  nature  interferes ; 
 
 And  'tis  to  be  forgiven. 
 
 2. 
 And  thus  the'  unutterable  debt 
 
 Against  me  is  increas'd, 
 Of  favours,  (may  I  ne'er  forget, 
 
 Unworthy  of  the  least !) 
 By  this,  distinguish' d  o'er  the  rest, 
 A  sire,  the  kindest  and  the  best 
 
 Of  all  that  bear  that  honour'd  name ; 
 To  bless  me  on  my  pilgrimage, 
 Spar'd,  in  his  venerable  age, 
 
 To  nature's  utmost  claim. 
 
 A  boon, — oh  who  shall  weigh  its  worth? 
 — While  most  around  are  left 
 
103 
 
 To  all  bad  influences  of  earth ; 
 
 Of  parent  guidance  reft ; 
 Ah  there,  the  sheep  themselves  astray, 
 How  should  the  lambs  explore  their  way  I 
 
 — Father,  thy  son  was  blest  with  thee  ; 
 And  who  can  tell,  but  may,  on  this, 
 Hang  an  eternity  of  bliss, 
 
 For  one  of  misery  ? 
 
 4. 
 
 But  oh  Thou  glorious  Providence ! 
 
 My  tongue  but  mars  Thy  praise. 
 While  the  whole  universe  immense 
 
 Thy  broad  bright  eye  surveys  ; 
 Still  hast  Thou  watch' d  o'er  me  for  good, 
 As  if  the  world  were  solitude, 
 
 And  J  absorb'd  Thy  sweet  controul. 
 Still  lead  me,  oh  my  father's  God, 
 Lead  in  the  steps  that  father  trod ! 
 
 And  meet  we,  for  Thy  praise,  at  one  eternal  goal ! 
 
 April  2,  1821. 
 
104 
 
 AD  MATREM,  IN  EUNDEM  DIEM. 
 
 DlD  Cowper,* — inspir'd  by  her  pictur'd  resem- 
 blance 
 Whom  he  lost  ere  affliction  quench' d  infantine 
 mirth, — 
 Pour  that  exquisite  strain  of  heart-breathing  re- 
 membrance 
 And  treasur'd  affection,  which  blazons  her  worth? 
 — Oh  why  did  heaven  snatch,  sweetest  mourner, 
 a  mother 
 So  form'd  to  have  sooth'd  thy  pathetic  career  ? 
 'Twas  in  pity  to  her ;  while,  in  "  Mary,"  another 
 Was  summon'd  thy  desolate  sojourn  to  cheer. 
 
 2. 
 
 Shall  I,  blest  with  mine,  from  the  dawning  of  reason, 
 From  days  ere  e'en  Cowper  held  converse  with 
 gloom, 
 
 Till  now  that  I  pass  nature's  midsummer  season, 
 And  the  mind  and  the  man  in  maturity  bloom; — 
 
 Shall  I  remain  mute  to  the  kindness  maternal 
 Heaven  spares  me  thus  graciously  year  after  year, 
 
 *  See  his  Lines  on  the  receipt  of  his  Mother's  picture. 
 
105 
 
 Like  a  sunshine  still  smiling,  a  verdure  still  vernal, 
 Whatever  less  sweet  in  the  desert  appear ! 
 
 3. 
 
 In  haste  let  me  waken  my  harp  where  it  slumbers ; 
 
 The  strings  of  that  harp  are  the  chords  of  my  heart : 
 No  Muses  need  wait  on  the  natural  numbers : 
 
 Tis  feeling  inspires  them,  all  guiltless  of  art. 
 Heaven  bless  thee,  dear  parent, — Heaven  blesses 
 already, — 
 
 With  the  fathomless  treasures  of  faith,  hope, 
 and  love ! 
 Still  o'er  thee  the  gales  of  the  Spirit  blow  steady, 
 
 And  bear  thee,  triumphant,  to  blessings  above ! 
 
 4. 
 Thy  childhood  was  hallow'd  :  invisibly  nearer 
 
 Thou  hast  drawn  to  celestial  beatitude's  goal : 
 May  the  light  of  thy  Saviour  still  shine  on  thee  clearer, 
 
 Till  the  last  consummation  transfigure  thee  whole ! 
 — 'Tis  my  prayer;   'tis  enough:    shall  I  add  yet 
 another  ? 
 
 (With  a  heart  overflowing,  few  words  have  suffic'd) 
 May  thy  partner  so  dear,  and  thy  children,  O  mother, 
 
 Reunited  to  thee,  dwell  for  ever  with  Christ ! 
 
 August  0th,  1823. 
 
106 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE  LINES,  WRITTEN  AFTER  A  WALK 
 TO  KINGSWESTON.* 
 
 'O  FORTUNATOS  NIMIUM,  SUA  SI  BONA  NORINT !"— VlRG. 
 
 'iLLE  TERRARUM  MIHI,  PRATER  OMNES, 
 ANGULUS  RIDET." — HOR. 
 
 OH  scenes,  that  like  a  heavenly  vision  glow ! 
 Glimmerings  of  Eden  lingering  yet  below ! 
 Go,  painter,  fix  the  landscape :  yet  'tis  vain: 
 How  can  thy  tints  that  living  glow  retain  ? 
 — -There  Severn,  in  his  glory,  meets  the  sea, 
 Like  time  commingling  with  eternity : 
 While  here,  like  human  life  absorbed  by  time, 
 Rolls  Avon's  tribute  to  his  lord  sublime : 
 There  many  a  sail,  to  favouring  airs  unfurFd, 
 Wafts  Bristol's  commerce  to  the  various  world ; 
 Dappling  the  waves  with  beauty,  that  imparts 
 Sweet  thought  of  human  interest  to  our  hearts. 
 
 *  Note.  This  poem,  though  different  in  its  character  from 
 die  rest,  is  inserted  on  account  of  its  local  propriety  and 
 descriptive  interest. 
 
1 
 
 107 
 
 Thy  hills,  fair  Cambria,  crowning  yonder 
 shore, 
 The  memory  of  thy  loveliness  restore : 
 And  there  the  glistening  eye  would  fain  explore, 
 With  fancy's  telescope,  that  magic  scene 
 Where,  bosom' d  under  Windcliffs  ample  screen, 
 Tintern,  in  ruinous  perfection  shy, 
 Mirrors  her  ivied  beauty  on  the  Wye ; 
 Fit  shrine  for  bard  or  painter  !*  Nor  forget 
 That  bordering  haunt,  whose  rapture  meets  regret, 
 Piercefield,  where  once  Eliza,  wonderous  maid,t 
 But  ah,  immortaliz'd  too  early,  stray'd ! 
 
 How  far,  how  fleet,  the  vision !  There  o'er  all, 
 Pen-vale's  blue  summit  peeps  pyramidal ;J 
 
 *  The  Cistertians,  who  composed  the  Tintern  society, 
 delighted  in  silence,  and  selected  the  most  sequestered  and 
 beautiful  scenes.  Their  abbeys,  always  dedicated  to  St.  Mary, 
 are  generally  eminent  in  beauty ;  as,  besides  Tintern,  those  of 
 Melrose,  Netley,  and  Furness,  four  of  the  most  lovely  ruins 
 in  our  land ;  but  none,  either  in  itself  or  in  its  scene,  so 
 picturesquely  perfect  as  Tintern. 
 
 t  Elizabeth  Smith:  see  her  affecting  Memoirs. 
 
 X  The  Sugar-loaf  mountain  near  Abergavenny,  one  thousand 
 eight  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  height,  distant  about  thirty  miles . 
 
 f2 
 
108 
 
 Here  the  great  river's  line  majestic  sweeps 
 From  Berkeley's  murderous  walls,§  to  Clevedons 
 wave-worn  steeps. 
 
 And  see  how  lovely,  on  our  nearer  glance, 
 Smiles  the  diversified  and  rich  expanse, 
 Where  villages  and  villas,  towers  and  farms, 
 Hill,  vale,   rock,   woodland,  water,— blend  their 
 
 charms ! 
 There,  in  its  pride,  yon  noble  mansion  stands, 
 And,  midst  its  elmy  paradise,  commands 
 The  glorious  panorama.     Here,  oppos'd, 
 With  tufted  crags  and  winding  dells  inclos'd, 
 Lord  of  the  vale,  Blaise  Castle^  towers,  and  tells 
 Of  virtuous  opulence  which  neighboring  dwells; 
 
 §  Edward  II.  butchered  in  Berkeley  Castle,  A.  D.  1327. 
 
 "The  shrieks  of  death,  through  Berkeley's  roofs  that  ring  ; 
 Shrieks  of  an  agoniziug  king !"— -Gray's  "  Bard." 
 
 *  Built  on  the  site  of  a  chapel  (marked  in  the  older  maps) 
 dedicated  to  St.  Blase,  bishop  of  Sebasta,  in  Cappadocia,  who 
 suffered  martyrdom  under  Dioclesian,  in  the  opening  of  the 
 fourth  century.  His  patronage  of  wool-combers  is  probably 
 derived  from  the  ferret  pectines  which  were  the  instruments  of 
 his  torture.    His  name  appears  In  the  calendar  on  Feb.  3. 
 
109 
 
 Tells  of  those  cluster  d  cottages  beneath, 
 Where  gales  as  of  a  new-born  Eden  breathe ; 
 Where  rose  and  woodbine,  that  each  door  in- 
 
 wreathe, 
 Greet  not  alone  the  senses,  but  impart 
 A  finer  fragrance  to  the  feeling  heart ; 
 Where  faithful  age,  requited,  rests  serene, 
 Till  call'd  to  yonder  yet  more  beauteous  scene 
 Yon  fairy  churchyard,  mantled  o'er  with  green 
 
 :■} 
 
 Mark,  too,  the  sprinkled  villages,  how  fair ! 
 Here  graceful  Henbury ;  snug  Shirehampton  there ; 
 Here  Westbury,  the  tir'd  merchant's  glad  retreat ; 
 There,  on  her  hill-top,  Leigh,  more  simply  sweet ; 
 Whence,  with  the  breeze,  that  mellow  sound  of  bells, 
 Belov'd  by  musing  Cowper,  sinks  and  swells  :|| 
 There  the  great  sons  of  painting,  souls  divine, 
 Hallowing  yon  Grecian  temple  as  their  shrine, 
 — Da  Vinci,  Raphael,  Claude, — assembled  shine : 
 
 lie:  J 
 
 ||  See  those  exquisite  lines  at  the  opening  of  the  sixth  book 
 of  the  Task: 
 
 '  How  soft  the  music  of  those  village  bells !"  &c. 
 
110 
 
 While,  far  beyond,  along  the'  horizon  blue, 
 Thy  tower,  bleak  Dundry,  points  the  southward  view ; 
 And,  deep  below,  'twixt  his  romantic  steeps, 
 Sun-silver' d  Avon,  broadening  seaward,  sweeps : 
 He  (since  faint  objects  oft  illustrate  fine) 
 Reminds  me  of  the  mightier  banks  of  Rhine  ; 
 As  yon  brown  Severn,  of  thy  crystal  lake, 
 Leman! — forgive  me  for  remembrance'  sake'.f 
 
 How  can  I  here  forget  that  wond'rous  vale, 
 Nam'dof  its  vernal  guest,  the  nightingale  ? j 
 That  vale,  so  near  the  city's  ceaseless  crowd 
 Of  human  cares  and  passions,  vain  and  loud ; 
 So  soothingly  contrasted;  still,  and  rude, 
 And  greenly  grey ;  a  poet's  solitude ! 
 Where,  with  some  fair  enthusiast,  oft  I've  stray'd; 
 Oft,  with  the  Muse,  sat  pensive  in  the  shade; 
 
 t  This  imaginary  resemblance  may  perhaps  be  understood 
 by  those  who  have  visited  the  Rhine  scenery  and  Lake  Leman ; 
 "  si  magna  licet  componere  parvis."  In  a  subsequent  note,  a 
 still  more  flattering  comparison  is  quoted  from  a  Grecian 
 traveller.  Such  distant  associations  enhance  the  interest  of 
 our  own  accustomed  scenes. 
 
 X  Nightingale  Valley,  in  Leigh  woods. 
 
Ill 
 
 Oft,  as  I  faintly  caught  man's  busy  hum, 
 Ponder'd  his  earthly  state,  and  pierc'd  the  world  to 
 
 come. 
 — Who  can  that  glen  at  sunset  trace,  and  pine 
 For  Vallombrosa's  bowers,  or  Tuscan  Apennine?* 
 
 But  oh,  in  moral  loveliness  and  bliss, 
 What  scene,  from  foreign  clime,  shall  rival  this  i 
 This  spiritual  Tempe  If — seems  it  less  .?— 
 This  fairest  portion  of  the  wilderness  ! 
 — And  thou,  whose  site  at  distance  I  descry, 
 Where,  on  the  blue,  thy  vapourous  canopy 
 Shadowing  appears;  thou  blest  of  heaven  and  earth, 
 Where  nature,  art,  religion,  shower  their  worth ; 
 Oh  fam'd  and  favour'd  city !  queen-like  crown'd 
 With  those  thy  beauteous  daughters,  rangd  around; 
 And  Clifton,  chief,  thy  first  and  favourite  child, 
 That  round  her  rambling  poet  long  hath  smil'd  ; 
 
 *  "In  Vallorabrosa,  where  the'  Etrurian  shades 
 High  overarched  imbower." — Milton. 
 
 t  "To  those  who  have  visited  St.  Vincent's  rocks,  below 
 Bristol,  I  cannot  convey  a  more  sufficient  idea  of  Tempe,  than 
 by  saying  that  its  scenery  resembles,  though  on  a  much  larger 
 scale,  that  of  the  former  place/' — Holland's  Travels 
 through  Greece,  &c. 
 
112 
 
 Know  thy  true  state,  and,  midst  thy  triumph  aw'd, 
 Give  all  the  glory  of  that  state  to  God ! 
 Long  may  thy  ships,  o'er  ocean's  farthest  foam, 
 Speed  with  the  stores  of  either  India  home ! 
 Long  may'st  thou  prosper,  (grant  it,  heaven!)  and 
 
 bring 
 Fear  to  thy  God,  and  honour  to  thy  King ! 
 Long  to  the  Church,  the  Realm,  a  bulwark  be, 
 Hallowing  thy  commerce  with  thy  charity ! 
 Be  to  the  world  a  light,  a  salt  ;*  and  spread 
 The  Christian  resurrection  of  the  dead! 
 Scatter  the  seed,  the  sowers,  o'er  the  waste ! 
 Bid  the  great  harvest  of  the  Spirit  haste  ! 
 Till  rebel  regions  to  their  Saviour  bow, 
 And  the  whole  earth  eclipse— what  thou  art  now ! 
 
 *  Matt.  v.  13,  14. 
 April,  1821. 
 
SACRED  POEMS. 
 
 PA  R  T  II.    SPECIMEXS  OF  SCRIP  TUBE  P  OETR J '. 
 Ulcclko^  e|  cepi]-  oXtyr)  Xijoar. 
 
 OLD  TESTAMENT. 
 
 THE  TRIUMPHAL  SONG  OF  MOSES,  ON 
 THE  DELIVERANCE  AT  THE  RED  SEA.     Exod.  xv. 
 
 "  they  sing  the  song  of  moses,  and  the  song  ok  the 
 Lamb  !" — Apocaltpse. 
 
 1. 
 
 Sing,  armies  of  Israel !  oh  sing  to  the  Lord  ! 
 He  hath  gloriously  triumph'd, — His  triumph  record ! 
 Record  how  His  arm's  irresistible  force 
 Hath  dash'd  to  the  deep  both  the  rider  and  horse! 
 
 2. 
 The  Lord  is  my  strength,  my  salvation,  my  song; 
 My  God,— I'll  prepare  Him  a  dwelling  ere  long; 
 The  God  of  my  fathers, — I'll  blazon  His  fame ; 
 The  Lord  is  a  Conqueror!  the  Lord  is  His  name! 
 
114 
 
 3. 
 
 The  chariots  of  Pharaoh,  the  numberless  host, 
 The  flower  of  his  captains,  his  chivalry's  boast, — 
 The  waters  have  whelm' d  them,  the  Red  Sea  hath 
 
 drown'd, 
 Like  a  stone,  they  are  sunk  in  the  mighty  profound. 
 
 4. 
 
 Thy  right-hand,   Jehovah, — made  bare  to  our 
 
 sight, — 
 How  glorious  it  shone  in  its  measureless  might! 
 Thy  right-hand,  uprais'd  at  the  terrible  close, 
 How  it  crush'd  with  a  stroke  all  the  rage  of  Thy 
 
 foes! 
 
 5. 
 
 They  dar'd  to  defy  Thee,  dar'd  Thine  to  pursue ; 
 One  glance  of  Thy  glory  the  rebels  overthrew ; 
 Thy  vengeance,  let  loose,  like  a  hurricane  burst, 
 4nd  consum'd  them  as  chaff  which  the  gale  hath 
 dispers'd ! 
 
 6. 
 
 At  the  blast  of  Thy  nostrils, — that  horrible  blast, — 
 The  waters  were  gather'd,  and  frantic  and  fast 
 
115 
 
 The  waves  crowded  up  in  a  crystalline  heap, 
 And  the  floods  were  congeal'd  in  the  heart  of  the 
 deep ! 
 
 7. 
 
 —I'll  pursue — thought  the  foe  in  his  madness  and 
 
 pride — 
 I'll  pursue, — I'llo'ertake  them, — the  spoil  I'll  divide ; 
 My  lust  and  my  hate  shall  be  satiate  with  joy, 
 My  sword  shall  devour,  and  my  hand  shall  destroy! 
 
 8. 
 
 So  thought  they  triumphant,  so  shouted  behind — 
 Vain  thought,  and  vain  shout ! — Thou  didst  blow 
 
 with  Thy  wind ! 
 The  sea  o'er  their  host  his  huge  canopy  spread, — 
 They  sank  in  the  mighty  abysses,  as  lead ! 
 
 9. 
 
 Oh  who  is  like  Thee,  Thou  Jehovah?  what's  he, 
 Of  the  gods,  that  shall  dare  to  be  liken'd  to  Thee  I 
 So  glorious  in  holiness,  fearful  in  praise, 
 And  atchieving  such  wonderful  works  in  Thy  ways! 
 
 10. 
 
 Thy  hand  is  outstretched — in  a  moment  the  womb 
 Of  ocean  ingulphs  them,  and  closes  their  tomb. 
 
116 
 
 — But  oh,  in  Thy  vengeance  to  Egypt  so  dire, 
 Thy  mercy — we  prove  it — is  vast  as  Thine  ire. 
 
 11. 
 When  thus  Thou  hadst  freed  us  from  thraldom  and 
 
 wrong, 
 Thou  still  through  the  desert  hast  led  us  along ; 
 And  still  shalt  Thou  guide  in  Thy  love  and  Thy 
 
 strength, 
 Till  the  place  of  Thy  glory  receive  us  at  length. 
 
 12. 
 The  nations  shall  tremble,  our  coming  to  hear ; 
 And  pale  Palestina,  when  Israel  draws  near, 
 Shall  be  smit  with  a  heaven-born  amazement;  each 
 
 chief 
 Of  Edom,  of  Moab,  shall  wither  with  grief. 
 
 13. 
 
 The  myriads  of  Canaan,  subdued  by  dismay, 
 Shall  melt,  like  the  snow  in  the  sunbeam,  away ; 
 Or,  with  horror  congeal' d  by  Thy  majesty's  shock, 
 Stand  motionless,  mute,  like  a  statue,  a  rock ; 
 
 14. 
 
 Till  Thy  people,  O  Lord,  shall  pass  over  the  stream, 
 The  people  whom  Thou  for  Thyself  didst  redeem ; 
 
117 
 
 Till  Thou  in  their  heritage  plant  them  secure : — 
 For,  Jehovah,  Thy  reign  evermore  shall  endure  !* 
 
 15. 
 
 Dread  proof  of  that  infinite  reign  we  discern'd, 
 When  the  sea,  at  His  bidding,  retir'd  and  return  d ! 
 When  the  chariots  and  horsemen  of  Pharaoh  were 
 
 drown' d, 
 But  Israel  advanc'd  thro'  the  deep  on  dry  ground! 
 
 *  With  this  verse,  as  the  grand  chorus,  the  anthem  seems 
 to  conclude  ;  as  the  hemistichs,  or  poetic  half-lines,  here  ter- 
 minate in  the  Hebrew  original. 
 
 May,  1820. 
 
 THE  GENERAL  SONG  OF  MOSES, 
 
 delivered  jcst  before  his  death.— Deuteronomy xxxii.* 
 
 I  SPEAK;  and,  while  I  speak,  ye  heavens,  give 
 
 ear, 
 
 Hear  me,  thou  earth !  let  men,  let  angels,  hear ! 
 
 *  Note.  Frequent  allusions  to  this  magnificent  ode  occur 
 (as  the  marginal  references  illustrate)  both  in  the  prophetic 
 and  the  apostolic  pages;   testifying  the  peculiar  esteem  in 
 
118 
 
 — Sweet  as  the  summer  dew,  the  vernal  shower, 
 That  cheers  the  fainting  herb,  or  opening  flower, 
 My  words  shall  drop,  my  doctrine  shall  distill, 
 And  thirsty  souls  with  heavenly  freshness  fill. 
 
 Lo,  'tis  Jehovah's  glory  I  proclaim; — 
 Oh,  to  our  God  ascribe  the'  all- glorious  name ! 
 The  Rock!*  His  work  is  perfect :  He  displays 
 Justice  and  truth  divine,  in  all  His  ways. — 
 
 *  which  it  was  held  by  the  sacred  writers,  Bp.  Lowth  selects 
 it  as  a  specimen  of  the  sublime  diction  which  characterises 
 Hebrew  poetry.    (Proelect.  14.) 
 
 *  This  is  the  first  instance  of  an  image  so  frequent  in  the 
 inspired  descriptions  of  God.  (See  especially  the  hymns  of 
 Hannah  and  David ;  1  Sam.  ii.  2.  and  2  Sam.  xxii.  2,  3,  &c.) 
 It  is  five  times  thus  applied  in  this  poem,  in  allusion  perhaps 
 to  "  that  spiritual  Rock,'*  which  followed  the  Israelites  through 
 the  wilderness,  and  which  an  Apostle  declares  to  have  been 
 emblematic  of  Christ.  (1  Cor.  x.  4.)  Besides  the  ideas  of 
 grandeur  and  immutability  suggested  by  this  image ;  it  should 
 be  remembered  that  in  those  regions,  a  Rock  was  an  ordinary 
 place  of  shelter,  rest,  and  security.  (See  Job  xxiv.  8.  Isai. 
 xxxii.  2.)  Some  would  render  the  word  Creator,  First  Cause; 
 God  being  the  basis  of  existence,  the  original  of  the  universe, 
 the  supreme  and  all-comprehending  reality,  to  whom  alone 
 the  very  name  of  Being  is  strictly  proper,  and  in  comparison 
 with  whom  His  creatures  are  only  shadows  and  semblances  of 
 being ;  this  is  implied  in  the  incommunicable  name,  Jehovah. 
 
119 
 
 But  see,  His  children  how  perverse,  defil'd ! 
 No  spot,  like  theirs,  no  blemish,  marks  His  child  ! 
 — Oh  is  it  thus, — perverse,  infatuate  race, 
 Thus  ye  requite  the  Lord  for  all  His  grace  I 
 Thy  Father,  Him  who  form'd  thee?    Him  whose 
 
 hand 
 Redeem' d  thee  first,  then  stablislid  in  thy  land  ? 
 Pause  and  reflect !  the  days  of  old  retrace, 
 Revolve  the  years  of  many  a  vanish'd  race ! 
 Question  thy  sires, — for  they  the  past  can  tell ; 
 Thy  seniors, — what  in  elder  times  befel ! 
 
 When  the  Most  High  to  every  human  tribe 
 Did  its  peculiar  heritage  prescribe, 
 And  portion'd  out  the  family  of  man 
 O'er  the  new  earth ;   His  grand  and  gracious  plan 
 Bounded  the  nations  round,  and  bade  them  dwell 
 Subservient  to  His  numbered  Israel  ;* 
 
 *  It  is  remarkable  that  the  Septuagint  here  render  u  chil- 
 dren of  Israel"  by  u  angels  of  God  ;"  a  title  sublimely  dis- 
 tinguishing the  M  royal  priesthood"  of  Israel  from  other 
 nations.  The  circumscription  ot  the  nations  particularly  re- 
 fers to  the  seven  nations  of  Canaan.  (See  Acts  xvii.  26.)  But, 
 in  general,  the  world  is  governed  by  God,  in  subordination  to 
 the  concerns  of  His  church.    (Eph.  i.  22.) 
 
120 
 
 For  here  His  portion  did  our  God  engage,* 
 Tis  Jacob  forms  Jehovah's  heritage. 
 He  in  a  desert  land  His  people  found, 
 Where  the  vast  wilderness  lay  howling  round ; 
 There  guided,  guarded,  taught  them,  ever  nigh, 
 And  kept  them  as  the  apple  of  His  eye.f 
 And,  as  the  parent  eagle  o'er  her  brood 
 Flutters  her  shadowing  plumes ;  purvey s  their  food ; 
 Stirs  up  their  nest,  their  spirit;  on  her  wings 
 Takes,  bears  her  eaglets,  as  she  heavenward  springs ; 
 So  God  sustain'd,  so  led  them ;  He  alone ; 
 'Midst  them  no  stranger  deity  was  known. 
 He  bade  His  Israel,  like  a  conqueror  steed, 
 Ride  on  the  heights  of  earth ;  He  bade  him  feed 
 In  richest  pastures,  where  his  thirst  was  filFd 
 With  oil,  with  honey,  e'en  from  rocks  distill'd : 
 On  the  sweet  savoury  flesh  He  bade  him  feed 
 Of  milky  kine,  and  rams  of  Bashan's  breed ; 
 Wheat  that  with  kidneys  vied  in  size  and  shape, 
 And  the  pure  blood — for  beverage — of  the  grape ! 
 
 *The  Psalmist  in  return  exclaims ;  "  Thou  art  my  portion, 
 O  Lord!" — "The  Lord  is  the  portion  of  mine  inheritance." 
 
 t  What  exquisite  force  and  delicacy  in  the  expression !  what 
 amazing  condescension  and  love  in  the  sentiment. 
 
} 
 
 121 
 
 But  ah,  too  soon,  pamper'd  to  lust  and  pride, 
 Israel  grew  restive,  rampant ;  and  aside 
 From  God,  who  made,  and  spar'd,  and  blest  him, 
 
 turn'd ; 
 Too  soon  the  Rock  of  his  salvation  spurn'd! 
 To  jealous  ire  they  rous'd  the  living  Lord 
 With  curst  idolatries,  with  gods  abhorr'd, 
 And  demons,  as  divinities,  ador'd  : 
 Gods  whom  they  knew  not,  nor  their  sires  had 
 
 known, 
 Upstart  divinities  of  wood  or  stone  ; 
 Heedless  of  Him  that  formed  them,  and  that  chose, 
 The  Rock  whereon  they  rested,  whence  they  rose. 
 
 This  when  His  burning  eyes  beheld,  the  Lord 
 His  too  unnatural  family  abhorr'd  ; 
 Abhorr'd,  and  in  His  indignation  cried ; — 
 "  Ah,  from  the  rebel  crew  My  face  I'll  hide, 
 And  watch,  with  bitter  joy,  what  hideous  end 
 Must  on  those  faithless  children  yet  descend. 
 How  did  they  oft,  with  mockeries  of  My  name, 
 Challenge  My  wrath,  My  jealousy  inflame 
 
122 
 
 With  blasphemous  illusions ! — Now  in  turn 
 Their  wrath  shall  rise,  their  jealousy  shall  burn  J* 
 Their  glory  to  the  darkling  world  I'll  grant, 
 And,  in  their  place,  a  nameless  people  plant, 
 A  people,  now  their  scorn ! — for  lo,  a  fire, 
 Dreadful  as  hell,  is  kindled  in  Mine  ire ; 
 Fire,  that  shall  waste  their  land  with  all  her  fruits,f 
 And  blast  and  burn  the  mountains  to  their  roots. 
 Mischiefs  on  mischiefs  o'er  their  heads  I'll  pour 
 Heap'd, — and  exhaust  my  quiver's  arrowy  store : 
 Hunger  shall  parch  them,  hot  disease  devour, 
 In  hideous  devastation ;  and  the  power 
 Of  ravening  beasts  their  flying  fear  o'ertake, 
 Or  the  sly  venom  of  the  grovelling  snake : 
 Terrors  at  home,  abroad  shall  swords  consume 
 The  stripling's  vigour,  and  the  virgin's  bloom, 
 And  give  the  suckling  babe,  and  hoary  sire,  one 
 doom. 
 
 *  A  pointed  prediction  of  the  vocation  of  the  Gentiles,  as 
 
 consequent  to  the  rejection  of  the  Jews  already  intimated:  see 
 
 Rom.  x.  19.  where  the  passage  is  thus  applied. 
 
 ■ 
 t  The  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  afflictions  of  the 
 
 Jews,  predicted  with  a  tremendous  accuracy :  see  ch.  xxviii. 
 
123 
 
 Like  chaff,  I'd  have  them  to  far  regions  hurl'd, 
 I'd  rase  out  their  memorial  from  the  world; 
 — I  said  it, — but  I  fear'd  the  foe  might  cry, 
 Swelling  with  atheist  pride, — "  Our  hand  was  high ; 
 'Twas   not  the    Lord,   but  we,   these   wonders 
 
 wrought !" 
 — For  brutish  is  the  nation,  void  of  thought. 
 Deep  in  their  hearts,  oh !  might  these  truths  descend ! 
 Oh  were  they  wise  to  meditate  their  end ! 
 How  should  a  single  pagan  chase  in  fight 
 A  thousand  Hebrews, — two  a  myriad  fright, 
 Save  that  the  Lord  had  sold  them  to  their  foes? 
 Save  that  the  Rock  of  Israel  turn'd  to'  enclose 
 His  people's  baffled  strength  I  for  who  compares 
 — E'en  of  our  enemies — our  Rock  with  theirs? 
 But  now,  like  Sodom's,  like  Gomorrah's  fields,5: 
 Their  vine,  degenerate,  no  sweet  fruitage  yields  ; 
 Bitter  the  clusters,  and  the  grapes  of  gall; 
 The  juice  like  that  where  cruel  vipers  crawl, 
 Or  dragons,  gendering  death. — Amidst  My  hoard 
 Of  vengeance,  is  not  this,  then,  seal'd  and  stor'd  I 
 Vengeance  is  Mine,  and  retribution  due ; 
 And  soon  their  foot  shall  slide,  their  fall  ensue, 
 
 G 
 
124 
 
 •—Soon  as  the  time  is  ripe :  e'en  now  the  day 
 Comes  on ;  the  dreadful  judgment  chides  delay : 
 For  God  will  judge  His  people.     Yet  at  length, 
 When  He  shall  view  them  wither' d  of  their  strength, 
 And  the  sad  few  surviving  from  their  foes ;  -v 
 
 He  yet  will  speak  relenting;  "  where  are  those    V 
 Your  gods  ;  your  rocks  of  refuge  and  repose  ;      J 
 To  whom  your  consecrated  feasts  ye  gave  I 
 Now  let  them  rise,  now  succour  you,  now  save  I 
 
 See  then  in  Me  Jehovah,  Me  alone! 
 Other  divinity  than  Mine  is  none  ! 
 I  give  to  death,  I  rescue  from  the  grave, 
 I  wound,  I  heal ; — who  else  can  harm  or  save  ? 
 I,  pointing  to  the  heavens  I  made,  proclaim 
 Eternity  My  dwelling  and  My  name  ! 
 If  once  My  glittering  sword  I  draw,  1  whet, 
 If  once  My  hand  to  retribution  set, — 
 Perish  My  foes  before  My  dread  advance, 
 And  all  that  hate  Me  vanish  at  My  glance  ! 
 My  thirsty  shafts  are  saturate  with  blood, 
 My  hungry  sword  devours  its  fleshy  food ; — 
 Terribly  on  my  foe's  defenceless  head 
 I  recompense  his  guilt,  and  charge  the  blood  he  shed." 
 
125 
 
 Nations,  rejoice  with  Israel  in  the  Lord,* 
 Who  deals  to  all  their  merited  reward ! 
 Who  vindicates  his  servants,  whelms  his  foes, 
 And  on  His  chosen  race  His  mercy  still  bestows ! 
 
 June,  1820. 
 
 ** 
 
 THE  LAST  WORDS  OF  MOSES. 
 
 Deut.  xxxiii.  26— ult. 
 
 OH,  there  is  none, — let  this  last  voice  record, — 
 None  like  thy  God,  Jeshurun,f  like  the  Lord  ! 
 
 *The  Septuagint  singularly  inserts  here  those  words,  which 
 an  apostle  (Heb.  i.  6)  quotes  in  application  to  the  Son  of  God  ; 
 "Let  all  the  angels  of  God  worship  Him!" — See  note  above, 
 on  v.  6.  of  the  original. 
 
 \  This  appellation,  repeated  three  times  in  the  original  of 
 this  and  the  preceding  chapter,  occurs  only  once  besides : 
 (Isai.  xliv.  2.)  it  marks  the  righteous  character  of  the  true 
 Israel;  and,  besides  its  literal  meaning,  seems  to  be  used  as 
 expressive  of  affection,  being  supposed  by  Calmet  a  diminutive 
 of  the  name  Israel. 
 
'■} 
 
 I!  J 
 
 126 
 
 Like  Him  who  on  the  circle  of  the  sky 
 
 Rides,  as  thy  Saviour,  in  His  majesty ! 
 
 With  Him,  the'  Eternal,  for  thy  dwelling-place,* 
 
 Propt  on  His  everlasting  arms  of  grace, 
 
 How  canst  thou  fail?  His  presence  shall  appal 
 
 Thy  mightiest  foes ;  behold,  they  fly,  they  fall ! 
 
 He  gives  the  triumph-shout,  Destroy  them  all ! 
 
 — Thus,  solef  amidst  the  nations,  from  his  woes, 
 
 His  toils,  and  perils,  Israel  shall  repose 
 
 In  his  own  land ;  where  hill  and  valley  shine 
 
 With  various  opulence  of  corn  and  wine ; 
 
 Fountains  their  freshness  o'er  the  soil  diffuse, 
 
 And  heaven  descends  in  fertilising  dews. 
 
 — Oh  Israel !  thou  whom  God  delights  to  bless, 
 
 Who  can  with  thee  compare  in  happiness ? 
 
 Thou  people  sav'd  and  stablish'd  by  the  Lord, 
 
 Thy  shield  of  might,  thine  all-subduing  sword !  J 
 
 *  Thus  Moses,  Ps.  xc.  1. 
 
 f  A  prediction  of  the  indestructible  singularity  of  the  Jewish 
 nation,  which  had  been  previously  uttered  by  Balaam :  "  The 
 people  shall  dwell  alone" — Numb,  xxiii.  9. 
 
 +  "  Take  the  shield  of  faith,  and  the  sword  of  the  Spirit, 
 which  is  the  word  of  God."  (Eph.  vi.  16, 17.)  Through  these, 
 as  instruments  of  Divine  communication,  the  Lord  becomes 
 the  shield  and  the  sword  of  His  people. 
 
127 
 
 Thy  haughtiest  foes,  confounded  and  aghast, 
 Shall  perish  at  His  presence,  and  be  cast 
 Silent  in  darkness ; — o'er  their  trampled  pride 
 Thou,  in  the  triumph  of  thy  God,  shalt  ride ! 
 
 THE  REDEEMER. 
 
 Job  xix.  23—27. 
 
 1. 
 
 OH,  to  write 
 In  refulgent  rays  of  light ! 
 Grave  in  brass;  or  shape  the  pages, 
 
 Which  the  matchless  truth  recite, 
 In  the  rock  that  lives  through  ages ! 
 Yea,  with  adamantine  pen  record 
 Every  word  ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Press' d  with  woe, 
 This  I  confidently  know : 
 
 My  Divine  Redeemer  liveth, 
 Yet  to  re-appear  below: 
 
 — Oh  what  joy  that  prospect  giveth! 
 
128 
 
 Gilding  with  a  blaze  of  heavenly  light 
 Death's  dread  night. 
 
 3. 
 
 In  the  tomb 
 Let  this  frame  of  dust  consume ; 
 Yet  these  eyes,  in  swift  transition 
 Re- awaking  from  their  gloom, 
 These  shall  yet  attain  the  vision 
 Of  my  God,  my  Saviour,  as  He  is/* 
 Thron'd  in  bliss  ! 
 
 *  "I  shall  see  God;"  the  same  whom  he  had  called  M  My 
 Redeemer,  my  Kinsman;"  "and  not  another/'  not  an  unrelated, 
 unredeeming  stranger:  a  striking  attestation  to  the  Deity  of 
 our  incarnate  Saviour. 
 
 THE  WAR-HORSE. 
 
 Job  xxxix.  19—25. 
 
 — VAIN  impotent  creature  !  didst  thou  give  his 
 
 force, 
 His  force  and  his  fire  to  the  hero-like  Horse  ? 
 
129 
 
 Didst  thou  his  broad  chest  with  its  thunder  inspire? 
 Thou  kindle  to  lightening  the  glance  of  his  ire  ? 
 Will  he  tremble  for  thee* — from  his  nostril  all  wide 
 When  rushes  the  terrible  breath  of  his  pride  ?f 
 When  he  paws  and  he  prances  in  stormy  delight, 
 And  exults  in  the  sense  of  exuberant  might? 
 — On,  on  he  careers  to  the  warlike  array, 
 And,  disdainfully  dauntless,  laughs  loud  at  dismay  : 
 Swords  flash  in  his  eyes,  in  his  ears  quivers  rattle ; 
 Will  he  start — dost  thou  think  ?  will  he  turn  from 
 
 the  battle  ? 
 In  his  frantic  impatience  he  swallows  the  ground,^ 
 Nor  believes,  in  his  joy,  'tis  the  trumpets  that  sound! 
 
 *  Instead  of  our  version,  "  Canst  thou  make  him  afraid  as 
 a  grasshopper?"  the  acute  and  learned  Dr.  Goode  translates, 
 "  Hast  thou  given  him  to  launch  forth  as  an  arrow?" 
 
 t "  Collectumque  premens  volvit  sub  naribus  ignem !" — Virg. 
 So,  of  the  Leviathan,  ch.  xli.  19 — 21.  "  out  of  his  nostrils  goeth 
 smoke,  and  a  flame  out  of  his  mouth. " 
 
 $  A  similar  expression  is  used  concerning  Behemoth,  whether 
 the  hippopotamus  or  the  mammoth,  ch.  xl.  23,  24.  "  Behold, 
 he  drinketh  up  a  river,  and  hasteth  not ;  he  taketh  it  with  his 
 eyes/'  So  Virgil,  "  Carpere  prata  fuga." — See  an  excellent 
 criticism  on  this  description  of  Job,  as  compared  with  those 
 of  Homer  and  Virgil,  in  the  Guardian,  No.  86. 
 
130 
 
 Already  he  feels  in  the  thick  of  the  war, 
 And  neighs  out  his  triumph,  and  snuffs  from  afar 
 The  shouts  of  destruction,  the  screams  of  despair, 
 And  burns  to  partake  the  grim  revelry  there ! 
 
 THE  DIVINE  SHEPHERD. 
 
 Psalm  xxiii.i 
 
 1. 
 
 oEE  how  the  Shepherd  guides 
 The  helpless  charge  he  tends ! 
 For  all  their  wants  provides, 
 From  all  their  foes  defends ! 
 — Such,  gracious  Lord,  art  Thou  to  me ; 
 What  can  I  want,  while  bless'd  with  Thee? 
 
 t  Compare  Isaiah  xl.  11.  "  He  shall  feed  his  flock,"  &c. 
 John  x.  11.  "  I  am  the  good  Shepherd :"  passages  which, 
 compared  with  this  psalm,  evince  the  Divine  unity  of  Jehovah 
 with  Jesus  Christ. 
 
131 
 
 2. 
 
 Thou  bidd'st  me  rest  and  feed 
 
 Where  sweetest  pasture  grows ; 
 Tis  Thou  dost  gently  lead 
 Where  living  water  flows  ; 
 The  water  of  Thy  Spirit,  Lord, 
 The  pasture  of  Thy  heavenly  word  ! 
 
 3. 
 
 And  if  I  e'er  should  stray, 
 
 (Oh,  may  I  never  more!) 
 The  wanderer  from  Thy  way 
 Thou  kindly  wilt  restore, 
 And  make  me,  through  Thy  glorious  grace, 
 The  paths  of  righteousness  retrace. 
 
 4. 
 
 Yea,  though  I  pass  the  vale 
 
 By  death's  dark  shade  o'erspread, 
 Not  there  my  heart  shall  fail ; 
 What  evil  should  I  dread, 
 With  Thee  for  ever  at  my  side, 
 Thy  staff,  Thy  rod,  my  guard  and  guide  I 
 
132 
 
 Yes,  let  my  foes  surround ! 
 
 Their  terrors  ne'er  can  move, 
 While  Thou  my  board  hast  crown'd, 
 — The  banquet  of  Thy  love! 
 While,  fill'd  by  Thee,  my  cup  o'erflows, 
 And  oh,  my  heart  with  gladness  glows  ! 
 
 6. 
 
 And,  well  I  know,  the  grace, 
 The  mercy,  prov'd  so  long, 
 Shall  all  my  life  embrace ; 
 And  still  with  grateful  song, 
 Lord,  in  Thy  temple  I'll  adore, 
 Nor  leave  Thy  presence  evermore ! 
 
 THE  SAINTS  REPOSE  IN  GOD. 
 
 Psalm  Ixxiii.  23— ult. 
 
 1. 
 
 WHAT  though  here 
 Clouds  may  rise,  and  doubt,  and  fear ; 
 
133 
 
 Ever,  Lord,  art  Thou  beside  me, 
 Hand  in  hand  to  hold  and  guide  me ; 
 On  Thy  strength  I  still  depend, 
 Heavenly  Friend ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Yes,  below, 
 Onward,  led  by  Thee,  I  go  : 
 Thou  vrilt  ne'er  forget,  forsake  me: 
 Thou,  my  journey  done,  wilt  take  me 
 To  the  glory,  oil  how  bright ! 
 Of  Thv  sight. 
 
 3. 
 
 Whom  but  Thee, 
 Hope  I,  Lord,  in  heaven  to  see? 
 (There  my  heart,  and  there  my  treasure,) 
 — What  on  earth  can  yield  me  pleasure 
 Like  Thy  Spirit,  gracious  Lord, 
 Like  Thy  word  I 
 
 4. 
 
 Faint  and  frail, 
 Soon  this  flesh,  this  heart  must  fail : 
 
134 
 
 But  my  God  shall  still  be  near  me, 
 With  His  truth  and  love  to  cheer  me : 
 He  my  Rock,  my  treasur'd  store, 
 Evermore ! 
 
 5. 
 
 Wretched  they, 
 Who  from  Him,  unfaithful,  stray ! 
 Who,  their  soul's  true  bridegroom  leaving, 
 Lawless  lords  are  still  receiving : 
 
 — What  but  horror  must  impend 
 O'er  their  end ! 
 
 6. 
 
 But,  for  me, 
 Let  me  closely  cleave  to  Thee: 
 Happy  state!  with  God  conversing; — 
 Resting  on  His  grace ; — rehearsing 
 
 Themes  of  wonder,  love,  and  praise, 
 Endless  days ! 
 
135 
 
 THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  SANCTUARY. 
 
 Psalm  lxxxiv. 
 
 HOW  lovely  are  Thy  dwellings,  Lord  ! 
 What  heavenly  peace  Thy  courts  afford  ! 
 
 'Tis  for  that  sweet  abode 
 My  lonely  soul  within  me  sighs ; 
 My  heart,  my  pining  nature  cries 
 
 For  Thee,  the  living  Jrod. 
 
 2. 
 
 E'en  the  poor  sparrow  there  may  rest, 
 There  e'en  the  swallow  o'er  her  nest 
 
 (By  me  how  envied  !)  sing ; 
 Nor  they  with  tenderer  instinct  yearn, 
 Than  for  Thine  altars,  Lord,  I  burn,§ 
 
 My  Saviour  and  my  King! 
 
 §  His  desire  of  frequenting  the  sanctuary  resembled  the 
 instinctive  attachment  of  birds  to  their  nests ;  those  birds 
 which,  during  the  captivity,  were  permitted  to  build  about 
 the  neglected  altars :  the  Psalmist  uses  the  plaintive  tone 
 of  a  pious  exile,  as  in  Ps.  cxxxvii. 
 
136 
 
 3. 
 
 Oh  happy  they,  whose  fix'd  resort 
 Is  the  dear  circle  of  Thy  court ! 
 
 They  ne'er  forget  Thy  praise : 
 Happy,  whose  hearts  in  Thee  embrace 
 Their  hope,  their  strength!  whose  footsteps  trace 
 
 Thy  temple's  hallowed  ways ! 
 
 4. 
 
 As  through  the  wilderness  they  go,* 
 Soft  dews  descend,  sweet  fountains  flow, 
 
 Their  thirsty  course  to  cheer, 
 From  stage  to  stage,  from  strength  to  strength,. 
 Till  all  on  Sion's  mount  at  length 
 
 Before  their  God  appear. 
 
 5. 
 
 Lord  of  all  power,  Thine  Israel's  Friend! 
 Oh,  with  indulgent  ear  attend, 
 
 And  crown  my  heart's  request ! 
 Thou  Guardian  of  Thy  chosen  race, 
 Look  on  Thine  own  Messiah's  face, 
 
 And  see  Thy  servant  blest! 
 
 *The  original  expression  seems  to  be  equivalent  with  our 
 own,  "  vale  of  tears ;"  Bacah,  mourning,  similarly  applied 
 with  Bochim,  weepings;  see  Judg.  ii.  1 — 5. 
 
137 
 
 6. 
 
 One  sabbath  in  Thy  courts  is  worth 
 More  than  a  thousand  days  of  earth  ; 
 
 And  gladlier  far  would  I 
 Thy  temple's  humblest  office  bear, 
 Than,  Lord,  a  guilty  splendor  share 
 
 With  those  who  Thee  deny. 
 
 7. 
 
 Thou  art  a  shield,  a  sure  defence; 
 A  sun,  whose  soul-felt  influence 
 
 Doth  heavenly  peace  restore  : 
 Glory  and  grace  dost  Thou  bestow  ; 
 Grace,  while  Thy  people  dwell  below. 
 
 And  glory  evermore. 
 
 s. 
 There's  not  a  varied  blessing,  Lord, 
 But  Thou,  all-bounteous,  wilt  accord 
 
 To  those  who  cleave  to  Thee : 
 Then  happy  he,  Thou  King  of  hosts, 
 Who  in  Thy  grace  devoutly  trusts, 
 
 And  happy  none  but  he  ! 
 
138 
 
 PRAISE  OF  THE  DIVINE  GOODNESS. 
 
 Psalm  ciii. 
 
 WAKE,  my  soul!  all  else  forsake! 
 
 Every  power  within  me  wake ! 
 
 Every  energy  I  ask : 
 
 Fly  to  this  delightful  task ! 
 
 Wake,  my  soul,  to  bless  the  Lord  ! 
 
 Bless  His  holy  name !  record 
 
 All  His  mercies,  none  forget ! 
 
 — That  incalculable  debt ! — 
 
 If  thou  canst  not  half  recal, 
 
 Still  forget,  forget  not  all ! 
 
 Where,  oh  where  wilt  thou  begin  ? — 
 He  forgives  thee  all  thy  sin ; 
 He  with  healing  power  appeases, 
 Yea  expels,  thy  dire  diseases ; 
 He  delights  the  life  to  save, 
 Which  at  first  His  goodness  gave  ; 
 
139 
 
 Bids  thee  countless  comforts  prove, 
 Crowns  and  circles  thee  with  love ; 
 Opes  thy  mouth,  and  fills  with  food  ; 
 So  that,  endlessly  renew'd, 
 Heavenward,  as  with  eagle's  wings,* 
 Thine  immortal  vigour  springs  ! 
 
 Still  the  Lord,  in  all  His  ways, 
 Truth  and  sanctity  displays  ; 
 Still,  for  those  whom  wrongs  oppress, 
 Executeth  righteousness. 
 He  to  Moses  oft  of  old 
 Did  His  glorious  mind  unfold ; 
 And  the  sons  of  Israel  well 
 May  His  works  of  wonder  tell. 
 Oh  how  good  the  Lord  doth  prove ! 
 Slow  to  anger,  swift  to  love  ! 
 Soon  His  wrath  He  lays  aside ; 
 'Tis  not  long  He  loves  to  chide ; 
 Where  true  penitence  begins, 
 He  forgives,  forgets  our  sins; 
 
 *  Alluding  perhaps  to  the  fine  image,  Deut.  xxxii.  11.  and 
 alluded  to,  Isai.  xl.  ult.  the  renewal  after  moulting. 
 
140 
 
 Nor  requites  us,  when  we  swerve, 
 As  our  treacheries  deserve. 
 
 See,  above  this  earth  how  high 
 Yonder  canopy  of  sky ! 
 Oh,  so  measureless  His  grace 
 Toward  the  souls  that  seek  His  face. 
 Stretch  from  east  to  west  thy  glance, 
 See  how  wide  the  heaven's  expanse ! 
 Oh,  so  far  from  those  He  loves 
 He  their  pardon'd  guilt  removes. 
 As  a  father  o'er  his  child 
 Yearns  compassionate  and  mild ; 
 So  to  us,  and  oh!  much  rather, 
 Is  the  Lord  a  heavenly  Father ; 
 Full  of  tenderness  to  all 
 Who  on  Him  for  succour  call ; 
 Knowing — He  that  made  us  must — 
 And  remembering,  we  are  dust.^ 
 
 As  for  man,  his  days  but  pass 
 
 Like  the  transitory  grass ; 
 
 *  This  sentiment  receives  a  new  propriety  and  force,  when 
 applied  to  Him,  who  knows  our  frame  by  experience  as  well 
 as  by  creation.     See  Heb.  ii.  17,  18.  and  iv.  15,  16. 
 
141 
 
 He  but  flourishes  and  fades 
 Like  the  flower  that  decks  the  glades  :- 
 Bloom'd  the  flower  when  morn  arose ; 
 Ere  another  evening  close, 
 Conies  a  gale, — its  bloom  is  o'er, 
 Ne'er  its  place  shall  know  it  more  : 
 But,  to  children's  children  sure, 
 Lord,  Thy  promises  endure,* 
 Sure  to  all  that  love  Thy  will, 
 And  Thy  covenant  fulfil. 
 
 God,  the  universe  His  own, 
 Hath  in  heaven  prepared  His  throne. 
 Bless  Him  there,  ye  sons  of  light, 
 Ye,  pre-eminent  in  might, 
 Ye  that  wait  upon  His  word, 
 All  ye  angels, — bless  the  Lord  ! 
 Bless  Him,  in  your  glorious  regions, 
 All  ye  ministering  legions, 
 That  to  do  His  pleasure  haste ! — 
 Bless  Him,  all  His  creatures  plac'd 
 Wheresoe'er  He  bears  controul ! 
 Bless  Jehovah,  thou  my  soul! 
 
 *  So  Isai.  xl.  6—8.     1  Pet.  i.  24,  25. 
 
142 
 
 THE  DELIVERANCE  OF  ISRAEL. 
 
 Psalm,  cxiv.* 
 
 1. 
 
 WHEN  Israel,  triumphant  with  glory  and  spoil, 
 Left,  tyrant  of  Egypt,  thy  desolate  soil ; 
 And,  vainly  pursued  by  thy  charioted  host, 
 The  captives,  like  conquerors,  march'd  from  thy 
 coast ; 
 
 2. 
 Twas  then  that  in  Judah  God  planted  His  throne, 
 And  there  in  His  temple  His  glory  made  known ; 
 'Twas  then  that  o'er  Israel  He  stablish'd  His  sway, 
 And  Himself  was  their  King,  and  His  people 
 were  they. 
 
 *  Milton  seems  to  have  been  particularly  struck  by  the  sub- 
 lime spirit  of  this  little  ode,  as  he  has  versified  it  both  in 
 Greek  and  English.  Cowley  introduces  it  in  his  Davideis,  as 
 the  melody  with  which  his  hero  charms  away  the  evil  spirit 
 of  Saul.  A  critic,  in  the  Spectator,  No.  461,  remarks  that 
 the  author  of  this  psalm  begins  with  a  description  of  certain 
 supernatural  effects,  and  then  suddenly  introduces  the  Al- 
 mighty cause  which  accounts  for  these  phenomena ;  producing, 
 by  this  artful  reserve,  a  sublime  impression  on  the  astonished 
 and  satisfied  mind. 
 
143 
 
 3. 
 
 Old  Ocean  beheld  their  resistless  career, 
 Aud  his  ruffian-like  billows,  in  wonder  and  fear, 
 Stood  motionless,  noiseless,  and  pil'd  huge  and  high 
 A  crystalline  rampart,  while  Israel  went  by. 
 
 4. 
 
 And  when  through  the  desert  the  squadrons  had 
 
 pass'd, 
 And  paus'd  on  the  margin  of  Jordan  at  last, 
 Jordan  felt  their  approach,  and,  arrested  by  dread, 
 Retreated  precipitate  back  to  his  head. 
 
 5. 
 
 Shook  each  mountain  around,  shook  each  perma- 
 nent rock, 
 Like  a  flock  in  alarm; — like  the  young  of  that  flock, 
 Each  hillock  danc'd  lightly; — great  Sinai  with  fear 
 Was  convuls'd  to  her  base,  as  her  Maker  drew  near. 
 
 6. 
 
 What  aiFd  thee,  old  Ocean,  to  pile  up  aghast 
 That  billowy  wall,  while  the  multitude  pass'd? 
 And,  thou  Jordan,  what  ail'd  thee,  that,  master'd 
 
 by  dread, 
 Thy  stream,  though  reluctant,  recoiFd  to  its  head? 
 
144 
 
 7. 
 
 Why  quak'd  you,  ye  mountains,  ye  permanent  rocks, 
 Likeflocks  in  amaze?- — like  the  lambsof  those  flocks, 
 Why  danc'd  you,  ye  hillocks?  while  Sinai  with  awe 
 To  her  solid  base  shook,  when  her  Maker  she  saw ! 
 
 8. 
 
 Aye,  tremble,  thou  Earth !  'twas  the  presence  of 
 
 God: 
 Let  Nature,  with  Israel,  acknowledge  His  nod ! 
 Sands  gush  into  lakes,  where  His  footstep  He  prints, 
 And  forth,  where  He  bids  you,  start  fountains  from 
 
 flints  !* 
 
 *  Horeb  is  a  mass  of  granite,  better  adapted  to  yield  fire 
 than  water.— Dr.  A.  Clarke. 
 
145 
 
 THE  DIVINE  OMNIPRESENCE  6c  OMNISCIENCE. 
 
 Psalm  cxxxix.* 
 
 1. 
 
 YES,  Thou  hast  searched  me,  Lord,  and  known 
 
 My  secret  heart,  with  all  her  powers  ; 
 My  haunts,  or  social,  or  alone  ; 
 
 My  rising  or  my  resting  hours  ; 
 My  thoughts,  ere  yet  they  reach  my  soul ; 
 
 My  path,  my  bed,  my  countless  ways : 
 — Thou  read'st,  Thou  register'st  the  whole ; 
 
 There's  nothing  that  escapes  Thy  gaze. 
 
 2. 
 
 Needs  not  a  word  the  mind  to'  unfold ; 
 
 Silence  is  eloquence  to  Thee  : 
 Thou  dost,  at  one  broad  glance,  behold 
 
 Whate'er  has  been,  whate'er  shall  be : 
 For  Thou  hast  form'd  me ;  Thou,  O  Lord, 
 
 On  every  part  hast  laid  Thy  hand : 
 — Oh  height  of  know  ledge,  unexplor'd  ! 
 
 Skill,  that  I  ne'er  can  understand ! 
 
 *  See  Bp.  Horsley's  Version  and  Notes. 
 
146 
 
 3. 
 
 Where  may  I  'scape  Thy  Spirit  ?  where 
 
 Thine  all-pervading  presence  fly? 
 Climb  I  to  heaven?     Tis  Thou  art  there ! 
 
 Plunge  into  Hell  ?     I  meet  Thine  eye  ! 
 Then  shall  I  take  the  wings  of  morn, 
 
 And  light  beyond  the  utmost  main  ? 
 Thy  swifter  hand  my  flight  will  scorn, 
 
 And  there  surprise  me,  there  detain.    ■ 
 
 4. 
 
 But,  haply,  darkness  from  Thy  sight 
 
 May  yet  pavilion  me  around : 
 — Instant,  the  darkness  turns  to  light ; 
 
 With  Thee  what  darkness  can  be  found  ? 
 Darkness  and  light  are  one  to  Thee, 
 
 The  midnight  gloom,  the  noontide  blaze : 
 — Then  whither,  whither  shall  I  flee 
 
 From  Thine  inevitable  gaze? 
 
 5. 
 
 My  vital  substance  Thou  didst  form ; 
 
 Thou,  by  a  perfect  art  and  care, 
 Within  the  womb,  secure  and  warm, 
 
 Didst  the  whole  embryo  man  prepare. 
 
147 
 
 Fearfully,  wonderfully  wrought, 
 
 Let  me  Thy  power,  Thy  praise  disclose  ; 
 
 But  oh,  it  passes  speech  or  thought, 
 As  well  my  soul,  that  proves  it,  knows ! 
 
 6. 
 
 Yes,  to  Thine  eye  'twas  all  reveal'd, 
 
 This  sage  anatomy  of  mine, 
 Though  yet  as  in  a  tomb  concealM,* 
 
 With  this  its  covering,  broider'd  fine.f 
 Thine  eye  the  shapeless  mass  survey'd, 
 
 Thy  pencil  in  Thy  prescient  book 
 The  pattern  of  my  frame  pourtray'd, 
 
 Ere  part  by  part  its  fashion  took. 
 
 *  The  womb  of  the  mother,  by  a  delicate  choice  of  expression, 
 is  termed  "  the  lowest  parts  of  the  earth"  in  allusion  to  the 
 original  formation  of  man  from  the  dust.  Job  expresses  him- 
 self similarly  in  those  words ;  "  naked  came  I  opt  of  my 
 mother's  womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return  thither;"  i.  e.  to  the 
 parental  womb  of  earth. — "  Dust  thou  art,  and  to  dust  thou 
 shalt  return. * — 
 
 t"  Curiously  wrought/'  Bp.  Lowth  has  some  fine  obser- 
 vations on  this  striking  metaphor  in  his  Praelections,  where 
 he  has  given  the  entire  psalm  in  an  energetic  Latin  version : 
 M  Tua  pinxit  acus  mirabile  textum!"  (see  Notes  on  "The 
 Omnipresence  of  God,"  line  205) 
 
 H 
 
148 
 
 7. 
 
 And  oh,  when,  o'er  the  course  I've  trod, 
 Memory  looks  backward  year  by  year ; 
 
 Thy  thoughts  of  love  to  me,  my  God, 
 How  vast,  how  sumless,  they  appear ! 
 
 Fain  would  I  tell  them  o'er ; — 'tis  vain ; 
 Sooner  were  told  the  sea-side  sand : 
 
 I  sleep, — I  wake, — but  still  remain 
 
 With  Thee,  within  Thy  shadowing  hand. 
 
 8. 
 
 Hapless,  Thou  glorious  Lord,  who  scorn 
 
 Thy  goodness,  or  Thy  power  oppose ! 
 Oh.  let  me  shun  their  path  forlorn, 
 
 And  rank  with  mine  my  Maker's  foes ! 
 But  search  me,  Thou ;  and  all  that  works 
 
 Here  in  this  mazy  mind,  survey ! 
 Prove  me,  if  aught  of  evil  lurks  ; 
 
 And  guide  me  in  Thy  perfect  way ! 
 
 April,  1820. 
 
149 
 
 PROCLAMATION   OF   THE  GOSPEL,   AND   THE 
 MAJESTY  OF  GOD. 
 
 Isaiah  xl.* 
 
 OH,  comfort  ye  My  people !  saith  your  God, 
 Speak  ye  to  Salem  comfort !  bid  her  know 
 Her  warfare  all  fulfill'd,  her  guilt  aton'd ! 
 Tell  her  that  blessings  from  Jehovah's  hand 
 Await  her,  past  compare  with  all  her  woes ! 
 
 Hark ! — in  the  wilderness  His  path  prepare  ! 
 — He  speaks  ; — amidst  the  desert  pioneer 
 A  highway  for  our  God  !  be  every  vale 
 Exalted,  every  mount  and  hill  brought  low, 
 The  tortuous  straight,  the  rugged  smooth :  for  now 
 The  glory,  hid  for  ages,  of  the  Lord, 
 Forth  shall  it  burst ;  the  nations  all  around 
 Shall  see  the  great  salvation  of  our  God! 
 — His  mouth  the  bright  futurity  hath  seal'd. 
 
 *  See  Bp.  Lowth's  Version. 
 
150 
 
 Proclaim!  the  voice  commands :  the  prophet  waits 
 The  proclamation,  while  the  voice  proceeds : 
 '  All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  its  glory  fades 
 E'en  as  the  floweret  of  the  field :  the  grass 
 Withers,  the  floweret  fades :  alone  the  word, 
 The  promise  of  our  God,  unchang'd  endures 
 For  ever.' - 
 
 Oh  thou  messenger  of  joy 
 To  Sion,  take  thy  station  on  the  height ! 
 Thou  messenger  of  joy  to  Salem,  lift 
 Thy  voice,  uplift  it  fearlessly ;  announce 
 To  Judah  and  her  cities,  '  Lo,  your  God !' 
 — Against  the  mighty,  lo!  Jehovah  comes; 
 Comes,  and  victorious,  brings  with  Him  the  crown 
 Of  His  great  work,  the  recompense  assur'd. 
 He,  like  a  faithful  shepherd,  cheers  His  flock 
 With  pasture ;  bears  imbosom'd  in  His  arms 
 The  lambs,  and  gently  leads  the  nursing  ewes. 
 
 Who,  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand,  contain'd 
 The  waters ;  measur'd  with  His  span  the  heavens ; 
 The  hills,  the  mountains,  balanc'd  in  His  scales ; 
 
151 
 
 And  comprehended  all  the  dust  of  earth 
 As  in  a  tierce  ? — Oh  who,  His  counsellor, 
 Hath  catechis'd  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord, 
 Pointing  the  path  of  science  to  His  quest  ? 
 — Behold  the  nations,  in  His  eye,  as  drops 
 That  trickle  from  the  bucket,  or  as  dust 
 Scarce  in  the  scales  perceptible !  the  isles, 
 Behold,  He  lifts  them  as  an  atom's  weight ! 
 And  Lebanon  with  all  his  wealth  of  woods 
 Fails  for  the  fire,  with  all  his  living  tribes 
 Fails  for  the  fitting  sacrifice :  to  Him 
 The  nations  all  are  vanity,  are  nought, 
 Are  less  than  nothing! — -- 
 
 Whom  will  ye  compare 
 With  Him  ;  where  find  similitude  for  God  I 
 The  workman  casts  a  molten  form ;  the  smith 
 With  gold  o'erlays  it,  and  with  silver  chains : 
 He,  whom  his  penury  forbids  to  bear 
 Costlier  oblation,  singles  from  the  grove 
 Some  tree  whose  grain  resists  decay,  and  hires 
 The'  artificer  whose  cunning  hand  may  shape 
 An  image,  fixed  erect. — Ne'er  will  ye  think  ? 
 
152 
 
 Ne'er  understand?  have  ye  not  oft  been  told, 
 From  the  beginning  ?  hath  not  the  grand  truth, 
 E'er  since  the  -birth  of  Nature,  been  proclaim'd? 
 'Tis  He  that  on  the  circle  of  the  world 
 Sits  in  His  peerless  majesty :  'tis  He, 
 To  whom  the'  inhabitants  of  earth  appear 
 As  grasshoppers :  He  that  outspreads  the  heavens 
 E'en  as  His  veil,  the  tent  in  which  He  dwells : 
 'Tis  He  that,  in  a  moment,  brings  to  nought 
 The  mightiest  princes  !  not  a  plant,  a  seed, 
 Leave  they  behind ;  unrooted  from  their  soil ! 
 Let  but  His  blast  have  touch'd  them,  oh,  how  soon 
 They  wither ;  by  the  whirlwind  borne  away, 
 Like  the  light  stubble ! — Whom,  then,  will  ye  name, 
 Whom  (saith  the  Holy  One)  second  or  like 
 To  Me  I — Uplift  your  eyes  aloft,  and  ask 
 Who  hath  created  all  ye  there  behold ! 
 He  marshals  forth  those  number'd  hosts,  and  calls 
 Each  by  its  name :  the  vastness  of  His  power 
 Holds  them  in  being's  harmony  ;  not  one 
 Lost  from  the  myriads  ! 
 
 Why  then,  Jacob,— -why 
 Complain'st  thou,  faithless  Israel,  that  thy  cause, 
 
153 
 
 Tho*  sad,  escapes  thine  unregarding  God? 
 
 Ne'er  hast  thou  known,  ne'er  heard,  that  He,  the 
 
 Lord, 
 Creator  of  the  universe,  Himself 
 The'  Eternal, — faints  not,  is  not  weary  ?  He 
 Invigorates  the  feeble,  cheers  the  faint. 
 E'en  the  selected  youths  amidst  the  race 
 Wax  weary  oft,  and  fail :  not  so  who  trust 
 Jehovah:  they  from  strength  to  strength  mature; 
 They,  like  the  moulting  eagle,  still  put  forth 
 New  feathers  in  the  pinions  of  their  faith, 
 Wherewith  to  spurn  the  dust,  and  heavenward  soar; 
 They,  sharers  in  the  triumph  of  their  God, 
 Still  march  unfainting,  still  unwearied  run. 
 
 Aug.  1820. 
 
154 
 
 THE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHURCH,  IN  THE  ACCESSION 
 OF  THE  GENTILES. 
 
 Isaiah  lx. 
 
 ARISE  and  shine,  sad  Salem !  for  thy  light 
 Is  come,  and  lo,  the  glory  of  thy  God 
 Is  risen  upon  thee !     Darkness  o'er  the  earth 
 Sits  brooding ;  darkness,  palpable  and  gross, 
 Covers  the  nations ;  but  on  thee  the  Lord 
 Shall  rise,  His  glory  shall  break  forth  on  thee  % 
 The  Gentiles  in  thy  light  shall  walk,  their  kings 
 Bask  in  thy  brightening  sunrise.     Lift  thine  eyes 
 Around  thee ;  how  they  gather,  how  they  haste ! 
 They  haste  to  thee,  haste  from  afar,  the  sons 
 And  daughters  nurtured  at  thy  side !  with  joy 
 And  mingling  wonder  shall  thy  heart  o'erflow, 
 ThrilFd  and  dilated ;  while,  around  thee  pour'd, 
 The'  abundance  of  the  nations,  and  the  wealth 
 Of  ocean,  crowds.     The  countless  multitude 
 Of  camels  and  of  dromedaries,  led 
 By  Midian,  fills  thee,  floodlike.     Sheba's  sons 
 
155 
 
 Troop  with  their  gold,   their  incense,   and   their 
 
 hymns, 
 In  rapturous  adoration.     All  the  flocks 
 Of  Kedar  shall  be  gather' d  unto  thee, 
 To  thee  Xebaioth's  tributary  rams  : 
 All  on  Mine  altar  shall  be  pil'd,  and  rise 
 Accepted,  while  My  glorious  house  I  crown 
 With  glory  past  compare. 
 
 But  who  are  these, 
 (So  at  the  sight  shall  wondering  Salem  cry) 
 That,  like  a  cloud,  come  flying,  or  as  doves 
 Flock  to  their  windows  I — Yes,  the  isles  on  thee 
 Shall  wait,  and  Tarshish,  foremost,  with  her  ships, — 
 To  bring  thy  sons,  tho'  distant,  and  with  them 
 Their  gold,  their  silver, — treasures  hallow'd  now 
 In  honour  of  Jehovah,  Israel's  God; 
 For  He  hath  given  thee  glory !  yes,  the  sons 
 Of  strangers  shall  rebuild  thy  ruin'd  walls, 
 To  thee  their  kings  bow  ministrant :  for  still, 
 Though  in  My  wrath  I  smote  thee,  will  I  turn, 
 Still  with  Mine  arms  of  love  embrace  thee  round. 
 Peace  with  her  open  gates  shall  guard  thy  fanes, 
 h2 
 
156 
 
 Ne'er  closing  day  or  night ;  while,  center  d  there, 
 Pours  the  vast  confluence  of  the  nations,  there 
 The  pomp  of  all  their  kings  :  the  nation,  king, 
 That  serves  not  thee,  shall  perish  in  his  pride ; 
 All  such  are  doom'd  and  desolate.     To  thee 
 The  glory  of  old  Lebanon  shall  bend, 
 Thine  all  his  verdant  wealth,  fir,  box,  and  pine ; 
 To  beautify  My  sanctuary, — to  'emblaze 
 The  place  where  My  celestial  footsteps  rest. 
 Sons  of  thine  old  oppressors  bow  sub  miss 
 Before  thee,  and  who  dar  d  despise  thee  once 
 Kneel  at  thy  feet,  and  learn  to  hail  thee  now 
 (Magnific  title)  City  of  the  Lord, 
 Sion  of  Israel's  Holy  One ! — 
 
 No  more 
 Hated,  rejected,  visited  by  none, 
 As  erst ;  I  raise  thee  to  eternal  fame, 
 The  joy  of  ages. — Thou  shalt  suck  the  milk 
 Of  nations,  at  the  breast  of  royalty 
 Nurtur'd;  and  thou  shalt  know  in  Me  the  Lord  ; 
 In  Me,  the  Mighty  One  of  Jacob,  know 
 Thy  Saviour,  thy  Redeemer.     Days  of  gold 
 
157 
 
 Shall  smile,  expelling  the  fierce  brazen  age ; 
 
 And  what  was  iron  shall  to  silver  turn, 
 
 To  iron  what  was  stone,  what  wood  to  brass. 
 
 Of  justice  shall  thy  senators  be  nam'd, 
 
 Of  peace  thy  soldiers.     Tumult  in  the  land 
 
 Shall  never  more  be  heard,  nor  waste,  nor  woe; 
 
 On  all  thy  walls  Salvation  shall  be  grav'd, 
 
 On  all  thy  portals  Praise.     No  more  the  sun 
 
 Shall  make  thy  transient  day,  the  moon  no  more 
 
 Lend  thee  her  waning  brightness;  but  the  Lord 
 
 Shall  shine  thine  everlasting  light,  thy  God 
 
 Thy  changeless  glory.     Thus  shall  end  thy  days 
 
 Of  mourning :  all  thy  children  righteous  made, 
 
 Never  to  leave  their  heritage,  but  grow 
 
 Plants  of  My  hand,  My  workmanship,  My  praise : 
 
 Thus  shall  the  little  embryo  gradual  swrell, 
 
 To  mighty  myriads  multiplied  : — for  I, 
 
 The  Lord,  will  speed  it,  when  the  time  is  full. 
 
 Aug.  1820. 
 
158 
 
 NEW  TESTAMENT. 
 
 THE  LORD'S  PRAYER. 
 
 Matt.  vi.  9—14. 
 
 OH  Thou,  our  Father !  thron'd  in  heaven  ! 
 
 Deep  reverence  to  Thy  name  be  given ! 
 
 Thy  kingdom  hastening  come !  Thy  will 
 
 In  earth,  as  heaven,  let  all  fulfil  I* 
 
 The  bread  by  which  we  daily  live,f 
 
 Daily  dispense  ! — as  we  forgive 
 
 Those  who  against  ourselves  transgress, 
 
 Forgive  us,  Lord,  our  trespasses ! 
 
 Nor  lead  us  in  temptation's  way  ! 
 
 But  rescue  from  Satanic  sway ! 
 
 For  Thine  the  kingdom,  Lord,  the  power, 
 
 And  glory ;  Thine,  for  evermore ! 
 
 *  One  half  of  this  comprehensive  model  of  prayer,  that  is, 
 the  three  petitions  first  prescribed,  together  with  the  con- 
 cluding doxology, — relate  to  the  advancement  of  the  Gospel 
 in  the  world. — Edwards. 
 
 t  eiriovcnov,  essential,  substantial,  that  which  sustains  the 
 essence  or  substance,— See  Schleusner. 
 
159 
 
 VAIN  ANXIETY  REPRESSED. 
 
 Matt.  vi.  25—34. 
 
 TRUST  the  Lord  !  —'tis  wisdom's  part : 
 Why,  with  vainly  anxious  heart, 
 Muse  what  nurture,  to  sustain 
 Mortal  nature,  ye  may  gain  ? 
 Why  solicitous  inquire, 
 For  your  body  what  attire  J — 
 Bread,  or  being,  which  is  less  ? 
 Which,  the  body,  or  the  dress  I 
 Sure,  the  means  by  which  to  live, 
 He,  who  gave  the  life,  will  give.- 
 
 See  the  simple  fowls  of  heaven  ! 
 Not  to  them  the  art  is  given 
 Seed  to  sow,  or  harvest  reap, 
 Or  in  barns  collect  and  keep : 
 Yet  for  these  your  heavenly  Father 
 Kindly  caters  :  and  much  rather, 
 
160 
 
 Will  not  He  His  children  cherish  ? 
 How  should  they  be  left  to  perish? 
 Why  should  fear  their  bosoms  harrow? 
 Is  not  man  above  the  sparrow? — 
 Who  by  thought  an  inch  can  add 
 To  the  stature  which  he  had? 
 
 Then,  what  raiment  ye  shall  wear, 
 Why  forecast  with  vexing  care  ? 
 See  the  lilies,  how  they  grow ! 
 Beautiful  in  virgin  snow, 
 Scattering  carelessly  their  graces 
 O'er  the  solitary  places  ! 
 They  nor  studious  toil  nor  spin, 
 Texture,  finely  wrought,  to  win  ! 
 —Yet  not  he,  so  bright  in  story, 
 Solomon,  with  all  his  glory, 
 (Spoil  of  utmost  lands  and  seas) 
 Was  array'd  like  one  of  these  ! — 
 If  then  God  such  clothing  yield 
 To  the  flowerets  of  the  field, 
 —Flowerets,  which  perhaps  to-day 
 Wear  their  exquisite  array, — 
 
161 
 
 But  to-morrow  all  their  bloom 
 (Turn'd  to  fuel)  flames  consume  ; — 
 Think,  oh,  think,  that  heavenly  Father, 
 Shall  not  He,  and  how  much  rather, 
 Clothe  yourselves  with  tender  care, 
 — Too,  too  faithless  as  ye  are! 
 
 Ask  not  then,  with  forethought  vain, 
 What  ye  next  may  need  or  gain, 
 Food  or  raiment  to  supply, 
 Nature's  claims  to  satisfy ; 
 Things  like  those,  with  wishes  weak, 
 Children  of  the  world  may  seek  : 
 Well  paternal  wisdom  knows 
 Ye  have  need  of  things  like  those. 
 Wiser  ye,  reserve  your  heart 
 First  to  seek  the  better  part ; 
 God's  own  kingdom  to  possess, 
 His  redeeming  righteousness. 
 First  the  things  of  heaven  pursue ; 
 There  your  master  wish  is  due ; 
 — Safe  and  sure  that  all  beside 
 Shall,  if  needful,  be  supplied. 
 
162 
 
 —Take,  then,  take  no  thought,  no  sorrow, 
 For  the  cravings  of  to-morrow ! 
 Rather  let  to-morrow's  care 
 For  its  own  demands  prepare : 
 To  the  day  sufficient  still 
 Its  inheritance  of  ill. 
 June,  1820. 
 
 PRESENT  SUFFERINGS  CONTRASTED  WITH 
 FUTURE  GLORY. 
 
 Rom.  viii.  18—23. 
 
 1. 
 
 WHAT  are  the  sufferings  of  this  mortal  state, 
 
 -  -I've  weigh'd  them  all — light  momentary  woes, 
 Against  the'  exceeding,  ever-during  weight 
 
 Of  gloriousbliss,  which  heaven  shall  soon  disclose ! 
 2. 
 Lo,  how  the'  oppress'd  creation  all  round, 
 
 With  aching  eyes  and  vehement  desires,* 
 To  see  the  sons  of  God  with  glory  crown'd, 
 
 To  share  their  bright  apocalypse,f  aspires ! 
 *  a7roKapaSoKia     t  airoKaXv^iv 
 
163 
 
 3. 
 
 For  sin  hath  triumph' d  over  all  below ; 
 
 And  Nature,  by  her  Arbiter's  behest, 
 The  victim  lies  of  vanity  and  woe, 
 
 Reluctant, — struggling  for  her  forfeit  rest.f 
 
 4. 
 
 Nor  vain  her  hope  :  for  yet  shall  Nature,  heal'd, 
 Shake  off  corruption,  spurn  its  yoke  and  rod ; 
 
 Yet  to  the  glorious  liberty  reveal'd, 
 
 Shall  start,  exultant,  of  the  sons  of  God ! 
 
 5. 
 
 Hark  to  that  universal  groan  around ! 
 
 The  whole  creation,  agonis'd  in  throes! J 
 Heaven  has  for  ages  heard  the  sigh  profound, 
 
 The  labour  for  delivery  and  repose ! 
 
 t  A  fine  illustration  of  this  sublime,  but  somewhat  obscure 
 passage,  is  given  by  President  Edwards,  in  his  "  Call  to 
 United  Extraordinary  Prayer,"  part  2.  sect.  4. 
 
 X  (Tvorreva^ei  kcu  (tvvujc ivei.  Virgil  has  a  similar  exclama- 
 tion in  that  mysteriously  singular  poem,  the  Polllo  : 
 
 "  Aspice  convexo  nutantem  pondere  mundum  ! 
 Aspice,  venturo  laetentur  ut  omnia  saeclo  I" 
 
164 
 
 6. 
 
 It  hath  not  ceas'd  e'en  now  :  nor  only  grieve 
 The  subject  world ;  we  too  must  wait  and  weep ; 
 
 We,  who  the  Spirit's  heavenly  pledge  receive, 
 (The  first-fruits  of  the  harvest  heaven  shall  reap,) 
 
 7. 
 
 Groan  in  this  corporal  tent,  this  toilsome  stage, 
 With  hope  deferr'd,  expecting,  while  we  must, 
 
 The'  adoption  to  our  deathless  heritage, 
 
 The  clear  redemption  from  our  frame  of  dust. 
 
 July,  1820. 
 
 ^/////#— 
 
 THE  CHRISTIAN  TRIUMPHANT  THROUGH  THE 
 LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  CHRIST. 
 
 Rom.  viii.  31 — ult. 
 
 V  AST  display  of  heavenly  favour  ! 
 
 How  shall  words  its  wonders  show  ?- 
 With  Jehovah  for  our  Saviour, 
 
 Who  can  prove  but  final  foe  ? 
 
165 
 
 Will  not  He,  who  could  deliver 
 
 At  our  need  His  only  Son, 
 Be  of  every  good  the  giver  ; 
 
 After  this,  witholding  none? 
 
 Who  shall  breathe  a  condemnation, 
 
 Who  a  charge,  'gainst  His  elect  ! 
 Shall  the  God  of  our  salvation, 
 
 Pledg'd  His  clients  to  protect  I 
 Or  shall  He  who  died  I  who,  rather, 
 
 Rose,  redeeming,  from  the  dead  I 
 He  who,  seated  with  the  Father, 
 
 Lives  to  plead  for  whom  He  bled  I 
 
 Who,  or  what,  our  hearts  shall  sever 
 
 From  the  love  of  Christ  our  Lord  ! 
 Shall  distress,  shall  peril,  ever  ! 
 
 Famine,  nakedness,  or  sword  ? 
 Come  the  worst  of  ills, — so  glorious 
 
 That  inheritance  above, 
 We  are  more  than  all-victorious 
 
 Through  our  Saviour's  changeless  love ! 
 
166 
 
 Yes ;  nor  destinies  eternal, 
 
 Nor  vicissitudes  of  time, 
 Powers  celestial,  nor  infernal, 
 
 Depth  profound,  nor  height  sublime  ; 
 Death,  nor  life,  nor  aught  created, 
 
 From  our  God  shall  sever  one, 
 (Confident  we  feel  it,  state  it) 
 
 One  He  loves  in  Christ  His  Son ! 
 
 Aug.  1823. 
 
 -M//W  *  *\/W<*#— 
 
 THE  CHANGE  OF  THE  BODY. 
 
 1  Cor.  xv.  51— ult. 
 
 BEHOLD,  a  glorious  mystery  I  disclose ! — - 
 
 Not  in  death-slumber  shall  we  all  repose, 
 
 But  all,  or  quick,  or  quicken'd  from  their  trance, 
 
 Suddenly,  in  the  twinkling  of  a  glance, 
 
 All  shall  be  chang'd,  at  the  last  trumpet's  call, 
 
 — The  trumpet,  that  shall  loudly  summon  all, — 
 
167 
 
 While,  to  corruptibility  estrang'd, 
 The  dead  shall  rise, — and  we  shall  all  be  chang'd ! 
 Then  shall  the  saying,  that  was  written,  be, 
 ■  Death  is  destroy'd, — devour  d  by  Victory  !' 
 — Where  is  thy  victory,  oh  Grave  I — thou  king 
 Of  terrors,  Death,  oh  where  is  now  thy  sting? — 
 What  is  the  sting  of  Death,  but  Sin? — the  awe 
 And  strength  of  Sin,  what  is  it  but  the  Law? 
 But  thanks  to  God,  and  glory!  His  dear  Son, 
 Jesus, — for  us  the  victory  hath  won ! 
 
 -++*+++• 
 
 %-»*++ 
 
 THE  SAINT  SUPPORTED  IN  TROUBLE  BY  THE 
 PROSPECT  OF  CELESTIAL  GLORY. 
 
 2  Cor.  iv.  16—  ult.— v.  1—9. 
 
 1. 
 
 SHALL  the  saint, 
 Midst  his  trial,  feebly  faint  ? — 
 No ;  his  outward  man  may  perish  ! 
 He  a  heart-felt  hope  can  cherish, 
 
168 
 
 Inly  brightening  day  by  day, 
 Past  decay. 
 
 2. 
 
 Oh  how  brief, 
 Oh  how  moment-like,  his  grief 
 Works  a  weight  of  bliss  supernal,*5 
 Inexpressible,  eternal, 
 
 Making  light  his  heaviest  fears, 
 Toils,  or  tears ! 
 
 3. 
 
 Faith,  sublime 
 O'er  the  sphere  of  sense  and  time, 
 Eyes  the'  invisible  as  present : 
 Well  she  knows  how  evanescent 
 
 All  but  what,  eonceal'd  on  high, 
 Ne'er  can  die. 
 
 4. 
 
 Yes,  we  trust, 
 When  this  tenement  of  dust 
 
 *  No  version  can  render  any  justice  to  the  energetic  beauty, 
 the  astonishing  grandeur,  of  the  original ;  in  which  the  lan- 
 guage, scarcely  less  than  the  sentiment,  bears  the  impress 
 of  Divinity. 
 
169 
 
 Sinks  dissolv'd  ;  the'  unbodied  spirit 
 Shall  a  deathless  frame  inherit, 
 
 Workmanship  of  power  Divine, 
 Heavenly  shrine. 
 
 5. 
 
 Sin-born  woe 
 Bids  us  groan,  while  here  we  go: 
 Still  our  deep  desires  are  swelling 
 Tow'rd  that  many-mansion' d  dwelling ; 
 So  we  be  not,  when  unbound, 
 Naked  found. 
 
 6. 
 
 In  this  tent 
 Still  we  pine,  as  prest  and  pent : 
 Not  that  nature  fain  would  sever 
 From  her  covering ;  but  for  ever* 
 
 Fain  be  cloth'd ;  her  mortal  strife 
 Lost  in  life ! 
 
 7. 
 
 Tis  our  God 
 
 Forms  us  for  that  bright  abode ; 
 
 *  This  passage,  both  as  relating  to  a  mysterious  subject, 
 and  as  expressed  in  metaphorical  language,  is  somewhat 
 difficult:  I  have  aimed  at  the  most  natural  interpretation. 
 
170 
 
 He,  whose  hallowing  inspiration 
 Yields  its  pledge,  its  prelibation.* 
 Hence  our  hope,  tho'  foes  assail, 
 Ne'er  can  fail. 
 
 8. 
 
 Well  we  know, 
 We,  who  dwell  in  flesh  below, 
 Linger  absent  from  our  Father : 
 Here  'tis  faith,  not  sight :  and  rather 
 Would  we  quit  our  earthly  cell, 
 There  to  dwell. 
 
 9. 
 There,  in  sight 
 Faith  is  lost, — in  God's  own  light ! 
 There  to  win  His  blissful  favour, 
 (Whether  here,  O  glorious  Saviour, 
 Still  we  wait,  or  join  Thee  there,) 
 — This  be  all  our  aim  and  care, 
 This,  our  prayer ! 
 
 "  We  feel  desires 
 
 That  give  assurance  of  their  own  success, 
 
 And  that,infus'd  from  heaven,  mmst  thither  tend."— Cowper. 
 
 Aug.  1823. 
 
171 
 
 THE  DIVINE  PANOPLY. 
 
 Ephes.  vi.  10—18. 
 
 BE  cloth'd,my  brethren,  with  your  Saviour's  might, 
 Arm'd  with  the  panoply  of  God  for  fight ! 
 Thus  o'er  infernal  wiles  shall  ye  prevail : 
 — For  oh,  not  fleshly  foes  the  soul  assail ; 
 'Gainst  powers,  'gainst  principalities  we  strive, 
 'Gainst  those,  the  lords  of  darkness,  who  contrive 
 All  evil  in  this  world ;  to  whom  'tis  given, 
 Spirits  of  hell,  to  war  with  heirs  of  heaven  !* 
 These  are  your  foes  :  o'er  these  to  gain  the  day, 
 Assert  the  ground,  and  bear  the  dread  affray, — 
 
 *  ev  tolq  e7rovpavwiQ9  in  the  heavenlies:  an  expression 
 which  occurs  four  times  in  this  Epistle,  and  no  where  besides 
 in  the  same  form.  It  has  been  generally  referred,  in  this 
 instance,  to  the  a'ereal  heavens,  as  supposed  by  the  Jews  to  be 
 inhabited  by  the  evil  angels.  (See  Eph.  ii.  2.)  But,  from  the 
 analogy  of  its  application  in  the  other  places,  (where  it  is 
 connected  with  spiritual  blessings,  with  Jesus  Christ,  and  with 
 the  holy  angels,  Eph.  i.  3.  ii.  6.  iii.  10.)  I  cannot  but  refer  it 
 to  a  higher  element  than  the  air;  even  the  sphere  of  spiritual 
 and  celestial  blessings,  the  Christian  Church,  so  often  empha- 
 tically denominated  by  our  Lord,  "  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven," 
 
172 
 
 Seize  your  celestial  armour !  be  your  loins 
 Girdled  with  truth  ;  secure  from  fiercest  foins, 
 Your  breast-plate  be  the  righteousness  of  God  ; 
 Your  feet  with  gospel  preparation  shod. 
 While  in  your  left  the  shield  of  faith  ye  clench, 
 Covering  complete,  hell's  fiery  darts  to  quench; 
 Grasp  in  your  right  the  Spirit's  two-edg'd  sword, 
 Quick,  powerful,  piercing;  e'en  the  heavenly  Word ! 
 Last,  be  the  helmet  of  salvation,  round 
 Your  conqueror  brows,  the  hope  of  glory,  bound ! 
 And  prayer  your  every  exercise  pervade ; 
 Ethereal  temper,  ever-present  aid  ! 
 
 "****•&•»&■**■*** 
 
 THE  TERRORS  OF  THE  LAW,  CONTRASTED  WITH 
 THE  GLORIES  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 
 
 Heb.  xii.  18—24. 
 
 NOT  to  Sinai,  with  Israel  of  old,  are  ye  calFd, 
 That  earthly,  that  palpable  mount,  which  appall'd 
 With  darkness,  and  clouds,  and  tempestuous  night, 
 And  a  fire,  like  a  furnace,  that  glar'd  on  the  height; 
 
173 
 
 And  a  trumpet,  whose  summons  grew  loud  and 
 
 more  loud, 
 And  a  voice,  at  whose  accents  the  terrified  crowd 
 Shrunk  back,  and  entreated  to  hear  it  no  more, 
 For  they  could  not  endure  the  dread  meaning  it 
 
 bore. 
 
 And  if  but  a  beast  to  the  mountain  drew  near, 
 That  beast  must  be  ston'd,  or  transfix' d  with  a  spear ; 
 And  well  might  the  view  scare  the  people  assembled, 
 When  Moses  declar'd  he  exceedingly  trembled! — 
 
 Oh  no !  'tis  not  ijguvs  thus  to  witness  with  awe 
 The  terrible  signs  that  prefigur'd  the  Law ! 
 — Far  different  to  yon,  in  the  gospel  of  grace, 
 A  Father,  a  Saviour,  discloses  His  face  ! 
 
 Ye  to  Si  on  are  invited, 
 
 Scene  of  love,  by  Jesus  trod; 
 Ye  in  Salem  dwell  delighted, 
 
 Heavenly  City  of  our  God;* 
 
 *  Here,  as  in  other  passages,  there  appears  an  almost  un- 
 definable  intermixture  of  the  present  privileges,  and  the  future 
 
174 
 
 Join  the'  innumerable  legions 
 
 Of  the  high  angelic  race, 
 Oft  commission' d  from  their  regions 
 
 On  sweet  ministries  of  grace  ; 
 
 Join  the  general  congregation 
 
 Of  the  first-born,  heirs  of  light; 
 -—-In  the  volume  of  salvation 
 
 Every  name  is  written  bright. 
 
 Yea,  to  God,  the  Judge  eternal. 
 
 Ye  approach  with  holy  trust; 
 And  to  those,  in  bliss  supernal, 
 
 Perfect  spirits  of  the  just : 
 
 Yea,  to  Him,  the  Mediator 
 
 Of  that  covenanted  plan, 
 Lovelier  than  the  first,  as  later ; 
 
 Ye  are  come  : — to  God  in  man ! 
 
 glories,  of  the  Christian  Church.  In  the  same  style  the  Apos* 
 tie  asserts;  "we  are  saved  in  hope; — our  citizenship  is  in 
 heaven  ;  —  God  hath  made  us  sit  in  heavenly  places  in 
 Christ; — we  are  come" — even  to  angels  and  to  Jesus.  The 
 Patriarchal,  Legal,  Evangelical,  and  Celestial  Economies  are 
 here  exhibited  in  their  essential  and  final  identity ;  and  we 
 form  a  glorious  idea  of  the  Univeral  Church,  "  the  communion 
 of  saints/'  Israelitish  or  Christian,  militant  or  triumphant. 
 
I/O 
 
 Come  to  that  dear  blood  of  Jesus, 
 Sprinkled  on  the  heart,  which  speaks 
 
 Better  things  than  Abel's ;  frees  us 
 From  the  curse  that  justice  wreaks  ; 
 
 — Better  things  than  Abel's  offering; 
 
 Since  those  sacrifices  old 
 Did  but  shadow  forth  the  suffering 
 
 Of  the  Lamb  we  now  behold.* 
 
 *  It  is  not  quite  certain  whether  the  Apostle  meant  to 
 contrast  the  blood  of  Jesus  with  that  of  Abel  himself,  which 
 cried  for  icrath  upon  his  murderer, — while  the  blood  of  Jesus 
 cries  for  mercy  even  upon  his  crucifiers:  or  whether  he  meant 
 to  contrast  (according  to  the  leading  design  of  this  epistle) 
 the  blood  of  Abel's  sacrifice,  acceptable  as  it  was,  and  the 
 earliest  on  record, — with  the  infinitely  more  precious  blood 
 of  the  Lamb  of  God,  by  faith  in  which  Abel's  was  accepted. 
 Both  senses  are  natural  and  beautiful,  and  both  are  therefore 
 attempted  in  the  paraphrase.  In  favour  of  the  latter  inter- 
 pretation, though  less  obvious,  much  may  be  plausibly  urged, 
 whether  we  attend  to  the  meaning,  (compare  ix.  13,  14.)  or 
 to  the  original  expression.  TLapa  rov  ApcX,  scil.  non  to 
 aiLia,  sed  rov  parrLcrfxov  *.  nee  pertinet  rov  ad  hominem 
 Abel;  nam  cap.  xi.  4.  wXeiova  -rvmav  A/3t\  wapa  Kaiv; 
 sine  articulo.  Vide  Pali  Syjiopsin  in  loc.  Yet  whoever  will 
 consult  the  masterly  Owen  on  this  passage,  will  probably 
 perceive  that  we  must  acquiesce  in  the  common  idea,  as  justly 
 inggested  by  the  historic  mention  of  u  the  voice  of  Abel's 
 blood  crying  from  the  ground  unto  the  Lord." — See  Gen.  iv.  10. 
 
 June,  1820. 
 
176 
 
 THE  CHOIR  OF  CHRISTIAN  GRACES. 
 
 2  Pet.  i.  5—7 
 
 AS  your  queen,  let  Faith  advance, 
 Leading  on  the'  harmonious  dance ; 
 Parent  of  the  sister  graces, 
 All  resplendent  in  their  places  ; 
 Fortitude,  to  guard  the  rest ; 
 Knowledge,  with  expanded  breast ; 
 Patience,  triumphing  o'er  pain, 
 Temperance,  o'er  pleasure  vain ; 
 Piety,  whose  eye  sublime 
 Reads  eternity  in  time ; 
 Kindness,  that  in  every  other 
 Yearns  to  recognise  a  brother; — 
 While,  to  close  and  crown  the  rear, 
 Last,  not  least,  let  Love  appear, 
 Glowing  with  celestial  fire, 
 Loveliest  of  the  lovely  choir !# 
 
 *  The  idea  of  a  choral  band  is  suggested  by  the  original: 
 £7nyopr}yri(mTE.  ev  ry  tti^el  tt)v   aperrjv,  &c.     The  word 
 
177 
 
 THE  CHURCH  IN  HEAVEN. 
 
 Revelation  vii.  9— ult.* 
 
 HERE  my  vision  changed: — I  view'd 
 A  surpassing  multitude, 
 
 aperi]  seems  to  denote  Christian  courage,  the  virtue  then  so 
 peculiarly  needed.  u  Ut  virtus  a  vivo,  sic  aper^c  ab  Aorjc 
 Mars."  Scap.  Lex.  In  our  own  language,  manliness  most  ex- 
 actly corresponds  with  the  term. 
 
 *  This  exquisite  description,  in  its  primary  and  prophetic 
 import,  has  been  generally  referred  by  expositors  to  the 
 immense,  unrecorded  multitude  of  Christian  converts,  who 
 had  suffered  u  great  tribulation''  during  the  three  centuries 
 of  persecution,  which  preceded  the  first  tranquil  state  of  the 
 Church  under  Constantine. — The  last  accessions  to  that  multi- 
 tude had  been,  in  the  preceding  verses,  JudaicaJhj  described 
 as  one  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand  sealed  out  of  the 
 twelve  tribes  of  Israel ;  a  large  definite  number  being  pro- 
 bably used  to  represent  a  yet  larger  indefinite. — The  entranced 
 Apostle  makes  a  pause,  amidst  his  crowded  and  too  often 
 gloomy  visions,  to  contemplate  the  delightful  spectacle  of  those 
 martyred  myriads,  as  already  translated  to  their  state  oftm- 
 mediate  felicity  in  heaven. — Such  a  passage,  thus  reasonably 
 interpreted,  atones  for  the  melancholy  deficiency  of  Church 
 historians  in  almost  every  other  record  of  those  early  and  in- 
 teresting ages,  than  the  detail  of  their  corruptions  and 
 contentions. 
 
178 
 
 Such  as  man  could  ne'er  describe, 
 Of  each  nation,  tongue,  and  tribe.^ 
 Round  the  Lamb  they  all  unite, 
 Cloth'd  in  robes  of  spotless  white ; 
 Round  the  throne  adoring  stand, 
 Victor-palms  in  every  hand : 
 Burden  of  their  pealing  songs, 
 — '  Our  salvation  all  belongs 
 To  the  Infinite  I  AM, 
 To  our  God,  and  to  the  Lamb  V 
 While  the  angels,  and  the  band 
 (As  around  the  throne  they  stand,) 
 Of  the  elders,  and  the  fourf 
 Spirited  with  eyes  all  o'er, 
 
 *  The  primitive  spread  of  the  Gospel  over  the  Roman  empire, 
 which  was  then  supposed  to  comprehend  "  all  nations,"  (com- 
 pare Acts  ii.  5,  Rom.  i.  8,  Col.  i.  6.)  was  an  earnest  and  a  type 
 of  its  ultimately  universal  diffusion  over  the  entire  earth : 
 and  the  apocalyptic  prophet  rises  above  the  limitation  of  his 
 original  idea,  into  language  adapted  to  the  most  exalted  an- 
 icipation  of  the  whole  Church  of  the  redeemed,  as  united  in 
 eternal  glory. 
 
 t  The  twenty-four  elders  probably  represent  either  the  minis- 
 
 ers  or  the  members  of  the  universal  church,  in  allusion  to  the 
 
 t  twenty-four  courses  of  priests  instituted  by  David,  or  to  the 
 
 welve  patriarchs  of  Judaism  superadded  to  the  twelve  apos- 
 
179 
 
 Down  upon  their  faces  all 
 
 In  adoring  rapture  fall ; 
 
 Still  resounding  in  their  strain, — 
 
 — '  Hallelujah  !  yea,  amen ! 
 
 Blessing,  glory,  wisdom,  power, 
 
 To  our  God,  for  evermore !' — 
 
 "What"  (I  wondering  ask'd)  "are  they, 
 What  and  whence, — in  white  array  V7 
 — "  See" — an  elder  answer  d — "  those, 
 Recent  from  severest  woes, 
 Who  have  wash'd  their  robes,  and  whiten'd 
 (Once  how  staind,  tho'  now  so  brighten'd!) 
 In  the  Lamb's  redeeming  blood. 
 — Therefore*  at  the  throne  of  God 
 
 ties  of  Christianity. — Various  objections  attend  the  various 
 interpretations  of  the  four  living  creatures,  which  evidently 
 allude  to  the  cherubim  of  Moses  and  Ezekiel,  and  to  the 
 seraphim  of  Isaiah ;  and,  after  all  our  inquiries,  we  arrive  at 
 the  humble  conclusion,  that  neither  angels,  ministers  of  the 
 Church,  nor  the  Divine  Persons,  sufficiently  correspond  with 
 this  mysterious  symbol. — See  the  note  of  Scott,  and  Park- 
 hurst's  Hebrew  Lexicon  on  the  article,  Cherubim. 
 
 *  Therefore."  An  important  emphasis  rests  on  this  word 
 here.  They  had  written  their  faith  in  the  blood  of  martyrdom  ; 
 but  it  was  for  the  sake  of  far  other  blood  than  this,  that  they 
 
 i2 
 
180 
 
 Their' s  that  beatific  station  ; 
 
 That  eternal  ministration, 
 
 In  His  temple,  their  employ ; 
 
 While  His  presence  they  enjoy. 
 
 Never  shall  they  hunger  more, 
 
 Never  thirst ; — their  wants  are  o'er : 
 
 Never  more  upon  their  head 
 
 Shall  the  sun  his  fierceness  shed. 
 
 Still  the  Lamb,  enthron'd,  shall  feed  them, 
 
 Still  to  living  fountains  lead  them; 
 
 And  for  ever  God  shall  clear, 
 
 Every  eye  from  every  tear." 
 
 were  admitted  into  the  presence  of  God. — It  will  be  difficult 
 to  find  an  answer  to  the  following  just  and  natural  demand 
 of  the  wise  and  pious  Scott.  u  How  could  such  an  idea  ever 
 enter  the  human  mind,  as  that  of  washing  linen  garments  in 
 blood,  and  so  rendering  them  white;  apart  from  the  doctrine 
 of  the  atonement,  and  the  efficacy  of  faith  in  that  atonement, 
 to  cleanse  the  soul  from  sin  ?"    (Compare  Isai.  i.  18,) 
 
 July,  1820. 
 
1S1 
 
 THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 Rev,  xxi.  1 — 6. 
 
 1  HEX  it  burst,  the  glorious  view, 
 
 In  the  Spirit  as  I  lay ; 
 Heavens  and  earth  created  new, 
 
 For  the  first  were  pass'd  away : 
 Sea  was  none,  with  billowy  roar 
 Severing  shore  from  kindred  shore : 
 But,  refulgent  as  a  bride 
 For  her  husband  beautified, 
 
 2, 
 
 Forth  from  heaven  and  God  descending, 
 
 Lo,  the  Holy  City  came, 
 Glories  past  expression  blending, 
 
 New  Jerusalem  her  uame! 
 Hark,  a  voice  from  heaven; — M  our  God 
 Plants  with  men  His  blest  abode; 
 They,  His  hallow'd  people  ;     He, 
 He,  their  present  God  shall  be  ! 
 
182 
 
 3. 
 
 God's  own  hand  from  all  their  eyes, 
 
 Wipes  for  ever  every  tear : 
 Death  is  dead, — no  more  to  rise ; 
 
 Pain  and  sorrow  disappear." — 
 Hark  He  speaks, — the  First,  the  Last ; 
 "  See  the  old  creation  past ! 
 A  new  universe  begun ! 
 Write  the  changeless  truth. — Tis  done!" 
 
 July,  1820. 
 
 THE  CLOSING  VISION. 
 
 Rev.  xxi.  10,  &c— xxii.  13  &c* 
 
 1. 
 
 "  NOW,"  (the  angel  cried)  "  as  Moses 
 
 Erst  the  brow  of  Pisgah  trod, 
 See  the  scene  yon  mount  discloses, 
 
 See  the  city  of  our  God !" 
 
 *  Powerful  reasons  may  be  produced  for  applying  these 
 two  concluding  chapters  of  the  inspired  volume  to  the  hea- 
 venly world  exclusively ;  as  perfectly  distinct  from  that  mil- 
 lennial state  of  the  Church  on  earth,  which  had  been  introduced 
 
183 
 
 2. 
 
 There  it  lay,  lay  full  before  me ; 
 
 — Such  a  vision  who  can  paint  ? 
 Such  infinitude  of  glory  ! 
 
 — Fancy  fails,  and  words  are  faint^ 
 
 3. 
 
 Jasper,  there,  and  emerald  gleaming, 
 
 Chrysolite  and  sapphire  blaze ; 
 Battlements  with  rubies  beaming, 
 
 Gates  with  amethystine  rays ! 
 
 4. 
 
 Yet  no  temple  rose  before  me, 
 
 Yet  no  glory  shone  above ; 
 — All  was  temple,  all  was  glory, 
 
 All  in  all  was  God  and  love ! 
 
 5. 
 
 Lo,  the  stream  of  life,  resplendent 
 
 More  than  clearest  crystal,  flow'd, 
 
 in  the  preceding  chapter  as  previous  lo  the  resurrection  and 
 the  judgment;  events,  to  which  this  new  creation  is  subsequent. 
 Yet  the  language  of  these  chapters,  in  unison  with  deep  and 
 various  arguments,  justifies  a  belief  in  the  materiality  of  the 
 heavenly  world,  however  inconceivably  refined  and  glorified 
 beyond  the  present  state ;  as  well  as  in  a  real  analogy  (how- 
 ever immense  the  difference)  between  the  new  creation  and 
 the  old.  (See  1  Cor.  xv.  40,  Sec.)  Analogy,  indeed,  may  be 
 regarded  as  a  principle  which  pervades  the  universe. 
 
184 
 
 Pouring  blessedness  transcendent 
 From  the  fount,  the  throne  of  God ! 
 
 6. 
 
 Lo,  the  tree  of  life !  it  flourish' d 
 Where  that  river  fed  its  roots  ; 
 
 E'en  its  leaves  with  healing  nourish'd, 
 While  it  bore  unnumber'd  fruits. 
 
 7. 
 
 There  no  more  of  sin-born  curses : 
 With  the  Lord,  and  with  the  Lamb, 
 
 Face  to  face  each  saint  converses : 
 Every  forehead  bears  His  name. 
 
 8. 
 
 "  Come !  ye  citizens  invited !" 
 Let  the  Spirit's  call  be  heard  : 
 
 "Come!"  the  Saviour's  Bride  delighted 
 Echoes  round  the  gracious  word. 
 
 9. 
 
 "  Come !" — repeat  it  countless  voices ; — 
 "  All  that  thirst,  yea  all  that  will ! 
 
 Freely  drink,  whoe'er  rejoices, 
 From  the  Fount  of  life  his  fill!" 
 
 END  OF  SPECIMENS  OF  SCRIPTURE  POETRY. 
 
185 
 
 STANZAS  WRITTEN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE 
 REV.  CORNELIUS  NEALE,  M.  A. 
 
 Late  Felloiv  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge ;  uho  departed  this  life, 
 Aug.  8th,  1823. 
 
 O  MIHI   POST  TLLOS  KUHQUAM  MEMORANDE  SODALES  ! 
 
 PEXE  MIHI  PUERO  COGN1TE   PENE  PCER!" — OVID.  TRIST. 
 
 1. 
 
 IIS  made,  the'  ineffable  transition, 
 
 That  fix'd  so  oft  thy  solemn  mind! 
 Thy  faith  is  realis'd  in  vision ; 
 
 Thy  groaning  hope — 'tis  cast  behind  ! 
 iVnd  thine  the  lovely  death  which  frees  us 
 
 — Not  forces — from  the  scene  we  trod, 
 To  rest  imparadis'd  with  Jesus, 
 
 Imbosom'd  in  the  love  of  God  ! 
 
186 
 
 2. 
 
 Well,  in  thy  laurelPd  youth,  I  knew  thee; 
 
 When  op'd  that  deep  and  beauteous  mind ; 
 When  Fancy  first,  then  Science,  drew  thee ; 
 
 And  Milton,  Newton,  there  combin'd!* 
 But  oh,  how  soon  can  Heaven  transfigure ! 
 
 — Gales  of  the  Spirit  wak'd  thy  soul, 
 And  fill'd  it  with  celestial  vigour : 
 
 The  Saviour  God  absorb'd  thee  whole! 
 
 3. 
 
 Where  Science,  now,  with  Fancy  vying? 
 
 Their  glories  fade  in  dim  eclipse. 
 — Lo,  in  cold  huts,  the  poor,  the  dying, 
 
 Catch  Heaven's  own  manna  from  thy  lips! 
 Thus  hast  thou  fall'n,  a  joyous  martyr 
 
 To  Him  who  bath'd  thee  in  His  blood ; 
 Joyous  for  Him  all  else  to  barter, 
 
 All  else  how  little,  for  thy  God  ! 
 
 *  Like  the  admirable  Martyn,  he  attained  the  mathematical 
 pre-eminence  of  Senior  Wrangler.  Of  his  poetical  genius  he 
 has  left  several  beautiful  monuments,  besides  the  volume 
 justly  appreciated  by  Dr.  Drake  in  his  Winter  Nights,  No.  15. 
 During  the  last  three  years  of  his  life,  in  which  he  entered  the 
 ministry,  all  his  thoughts  and  exertions  were  consecrated  to 
 Religion,  and  the  pursuits  of  Christian  beneficence. 
 
187 
 
 4. 
 
 And  sweet,  if  sad,  the  contemplation 
 
 To  her  who  widow'd  weeps  awhile, 
 Waiting  in  faith  her  glad  vocation, 
 
 To  hail  thee  with  seraphic  smile. 
 We  too,  dear  friend, — whose  youthful  union 
 
 Mingled  so  oft  our  earthlier  lays, — 
 Rejoin' d  in  purified  communion, 
 
 May  hymn  Redemption  s  endless  praise. 
 
188 
 NOTES 
 
 ON  THE  POEM  ENTITLED    "  THE  OMNIPRESENCE  OF  GOD." 
 
 Line  52. — "  If  God  be  not  an  immaterial  being,  then 
 matter  may  be  the  cause  of  all  the  motions  in  the  ma- 
 terial world.  But  matter  is  a  mere  passive  thing,  of 
 whose  very  essence  it  is  to  be  endued  with  a  vis  inertice, 
 which  presents  itself  in  all  our  observations  and  ex- 
 periments upon  matter,  and  is  inseparable  from  it  even 
 in  idea,"    Hartley  on  man. 
 
 Line  76. — a  As  time,  and  its  exponent,  the  succession 
 of  ideas,  is  a  thing  which  relates  merely  to  finite 
 beings;  so  space  and  place  relate,  in  their  original 
 sense,  to  material  ones  only ;  nor  can  we  perceive  any 
 relation  which  they  bear  to  immaterial  ones,  nor,  con- 
 sequently, to  the  Divine  existence."     Ibid. 
 
 Line  81. — "  Divinae  particulam  aurae."      Hor. 
 
 Line  100. — "  Concretam  exemit  labem,  purumque 
 reliquit 
 iEtherium  sensum,  atque  aurai  simplicis  ignem."  Virg. 
 
 Line  105. — See  this  sentiment  illustrated  in  a  sermon 
 of  Saurin,  "Sur  V  Immensite  de  Dieu.,?  "  Prouver 
 que  Dieu  est  un  Esprit,  et  prouver  qus  il  n'occupe 
 
189 
 
 point  de  lieu,  (du  moins  selon  la  maniere  dont  notre 
 imagination  se  le  represente,)  selon  nous,  c'est  etablir 
 la  meme  these. " 
 
 Line  145.— See  Rom.  viii.  23,  26.  2  Cor.  v.  4,  8. 
 and  xii.  2,  &c.     Coloss.  ii.  5,  &c. 
 
 Line  152. — "But,  while  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
 Doth  grossly  close  us  in,  we  cannot  hear  it." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Line  155. — Ephes.  ii.  2.  "  The  Prince  of  the  power 
 of  the  air:"  and  (according  to  some  interpreters)  vi. 
 12.  "  the  spirits  of  wickedness  in  heavenly  places/' 
 The  Hebrews  called  the  atmosphere  of  earth  the  first 
 heaven ;  as  the  starry  region  was  the  second,  and  the 
 habitation  of  the  blessed  the  third,  or,  "  the  highest.5' 
 The  incident  referred  to,  is  related  2  Kings  vi.  17. 
 
 Line  191. — While  we  are  far  from  impiously  and 
 absurdly  identifying  the  Deity  with  the  Universe,  or 
 supposing  (like  certain  pagan  philosophers  and  modern 
 infidels)  that  God  is  merely  the  soul  of  matter,  and 
 that  He  exists  as  such  in  the  same  manner  in  which 
 the  human  soul  exists  in  its  union  with  the  body;  yet, 
 from  the  mysterious  manner  in  which  the  human  soul 
 exercises  a  dominion  over  the  body,  we  may  derive 
 no  improper,  though  an  imperfect,  illustration  of  the 
 omnipresent  agency  of  the  Infinite  Spirit  in  Nature ; 
 nor,  perhaps,  is  it  easy  to  express  that  agency  better 
 
190 
 
 than  it  has  been  expressed  by  some  of  those  pagans, 
 who   embraced  the  doctrine  of  Pythagoras: 
 
 "Principio,  coelum  et  terras 
 
 Spiritus  intus  alit,  totamque,  infusa  per  artus, 
 Mens  agitat  molem,  et  magno  se  corpore  miscet." 
 
 JEn.  vi, 
 
 . —  «  Deum  namque  ire  per  omnes 
 
 Terrasque,  tractusque  maris,  ccelumque  profundum." 
 
 Georg.  iv. 
 
 "11  y  a  un  sens  tres  juste,  selon  lequel  on  pent  dire 
 que  Punivers  entier  est  le  corps  le  la  Divinite.  En 
 effet,  comme  j'appelle  mon  corps  cette  portion  de 
 matiere  que  je  porte,  que  je  remue,  que  je  promene 
 comme  bon  me  semble  ;  aussi  Dieu  agit  par  sa  volonte 
 sur  toutes  les  parties  de  Punivers."      Satjrin. 
 
 Line  196. — Jehovah  Sabaoth  :  a  title  illustrated 
 Gen.  ii.  1.  "  The  heavens  and  the  earth  were  finish- 
 ed, and  all  the  host  of  them." 
 
 Line  205. — Ps.  cxxxix.  15.  "  My  substance,  cu- 
 riously wrought." — "  The  two  words  (remarks  Bp. 
 Horsley)  describe  the  two  principal  parts  of  the  human 
 body;  the  bony  skeleton,  the  foundation  of  the  whole; 
 and  the  external  covering  of  muscular  flesh,  tendons, 
 veins,  arteries,  nerves,  and  skin;  a  curious  web  of 
 fibres/'— "The  process  (says  Bp.  Home)  is  compared 
 to  that  in  a  piece  of  work  wrought  with  a  needle,  or 
 
191 
 
 fashioned  in  a  loom.,,  The  Hebrew  word  is  else- 
 where introduced  to  express  embroidery  variegated 
 with  colours  and  figures.  Judg.  v.  30.  Ps.  xlv.  14.  — 
 See  a  note  on  the  above  expression,  p.  147. 
 
 Line  212. — u  The'  inexplicable  union  and  division 
 Of  soul  and  spirit." 
 
 Compare  Heb.  iv.  12.  with  1  Thess.  v,  23.  When 
 the  Apostle,  in  the  former  of  these  passages,  speaks  of 
 •<  dividing  asunder  the  soul  and  spirit;"  he  evidently 
 distinguishes  between  the  soul  and  the  spirit  of  man : 
 and  when,  in  the  latter,  he  specifies  "  spirit,  soul,  and 
 body;"  he  presents  us  with  an  inspired  and  perfect 
 epitome  of  our  whole  nature,  our  entire  inheritance, 
 o\oK\r)pov  vjjLuv,  which  deserves  an  attentive  inspection. 
 
 The  Hebrew  terms,  nephash  and  ruach,  which  the 
 Greek  Scriptures  render  \lvxn  and  irvev^a,  and  the 
 English  soul  and  spirit,  are  frequently  used  as  conver- 
 tible terms,  and  signify  the  same  thing  ;  but  when  they 
 are  distinguished,  as  in  these  passages,  each  manifestly 
 requires  a  distinct  meaning.  The  Apostle  represents 
 man  as  possessing  a  triune  nature,  as  consisting  of 
 three  parts,  the  body,  the  soul,  and  the  spirit.  The 
 body  is  that  part  of  man  which  God  "  formed  of  the 
 dust  of  the  ground  :"  to  this  He  made  an  important 
 addition,  when  He  "  breathed  into  his  nostrils  the 
 breath  of  life,  and  man  became  a  living  soul  T  (Gen.  ii. 
 7.)  the  same  appellation,  which  had  been  applied  to 
 
192 
 
 all  the  inferior  animals,  when  their  Creator  said,  "  Let 
 the  earth  bring  forth  the  living  creature ;"  Heb.  living 
 soul.  (Gen.  i.  24.)  The  soul  of  man,  therefore,  strictly 
 so  called,  seems  to  be  the  principle  of  his  sensitive  or 
 animal  life,  the  seat  of  his  sensations,  appetites,  and 
 passions.  Thus  the  body  of  the  first  man,  animated 
 with  the  breath  of  life,  is  termed  (riofxa  \pvx^ov9  a  sen- 
 sitive or  animal  body ;  in  distinction  from  the  spiritual 
 body,  in  which  the  saints  shall  be  raised  at  the  last 
 day.     (1  Cor.  xv.  44,  46.) 
 
 But  man,  besides  his  terrestrial  body  and  his  animal 
 soul,  possesses  another  and  a  far  more  noble  principle, 
 denominated  spirit ;  in  the  natural  and  moral  powers 
 of  which  he  is  clearly  distinguished  from  the  brute 
 creation.  The  formation  of  his  spiritual  part  is  de- 
 scribed, when  it  is  asserted  that  "  God  created  man  in 
 his  own  image."  (Gen.  i.  27.)  As  neither  his  corporeal 
 frame,  nor  the  soul  that  animates  it,  both  which  he 
 inherits  in  common  with  the  brutes,  can  be  conceived 
 to  constitute  any  part  of  the  Divine  image ;  he  must 
 bear  this  image  in  his  spirit ;  that  part  of  his  nature, 
 which  is  the  seat  of  intellect,  rationality,  and  consci- 
 ence ;  by  which  he  is  fitted  to  know,  love,  and  enjoy 
 his  Maker ;  to  preside  over  the  lower  creation ;  and  to 
 govern  the  animal  part  of  his  own  constitution. 
 
 "The  breath  of  life,"  (Gen.  ii.  7.)  or  rather,  as  the 
 original  expresses  it,  "  of  lives/'  may  be  designed  to 
 include  both  the  animal  soul,  and  the  human  spirit,  as 
 
193 
 
 here  distinguished.  This  is  probable  from  the  pecu- 
 liar solemnity  with  which  it  is  stated,  respecting  man 
 alone,  that  u  God  breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  breath 
 of  lives.'5  It  is  probable,  also,  that  the  soul,  as  here 
 understood,  is  the  connecting  link  between  the  spirit 
 and  the  body,  or  that  the  union  of  the  thinking  princi- 
 ple with  the  material  vehicle  is  the  cause  of  life. 
 
 "  To  comprehend, "  says  the  acute  Macknight, 
 "  the  distinction  between  soul  and  spirit,  which  the 
 sacred  writers  have  insinuated,  the  soul  must  be  con- 
 sidered as  connected  with  the  body,  and  with  the  spirit. 
 By  its  connection  with  the  body,  the  soul  receives 
 impressions  from  the  senses;  and  by  its  connection 
 with  the  spirit,  it  conveys  these  impressions,  by  means 
 of  the  imagination  and  memory,  to  the  spirit,  as  mate- 
 rials for  its  operations." — But  whatever  truth  may  be 
 in  this,  or  how  intimate  soever  may  be  the  union  of  the 
 soul  and  the  spirit ;  as  the  Scriptures  clearly  reveal 
 a  distinction  between  them,  our  belief  of  that  distinction 
 ought  in  no  degree  to  depend  on  our  being  able  fully 
 either  to  explain  or  comprehend  it.  It  is,  however,  a 
 matter  of  observation  and  experience,  that  the  animal 
 part  of  man  may  be  greatly  afflicted,  while  his  spirit 
 or  mind  is  happy ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  his 
 mind  or  spirit  may  be  severely  distressed,  while  nothing 
 immediately  affects  his  animal  part.  This  evinces  an 
 unquestionable  distinction  between  the  sensitive  soul 
 and  the  rational  spirit  of  man. 
 
194 
 
 Jesus  Christ,  in  his  human  nature,  is  said  to  have 
 "  resigned  his  spirit,"  and  "  commended  it  into  the 
 hands  of  his  Father,"  at  the  moment  in  which  he  "laid 
 down  his  life,"  his  animal  soul. 
 
 The  preceding  is,  in  all  probability,  the  correct 
 interpretation  of  the  terms,  soul  and  spirit,  as  distin- 
 guished from  each  other  in  apostolic  language.  To 
 penetrate  the  distinction  which  subsists  between  the 
 animal  and  the  intellectual  soul,  so  incomprehensibly  as 
 both  are  united  in  the  human  person ;  must  be  felt  to 
 be  an  exquisite  instance  of  the  "  quick  and  powerful'* 
 nature  of  "  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  the  word  of  God." 
 Yet,  as  the  subject  is  metaphysical  and  mysterious, 
 one  or  two  other  interpretations,  at  least  plausible  and 
 interesting,  may  be  not  improperly  added. 
 
 From  those  passages,  (as  especially  1  Gor.  ii.  14, 15) 
 in  which  the  animal  man  (-fyvyjucoo)  is  contrasted  with 
 the  spiritual,  some  may  be  ready  to  infer  that,  by 
 soul,  we  are  to  understand  the  common  faculties  of 
 human  nature,  including  natural  reason;  by  spirit, 
 that  new,  supernatural  sense  of  the  heart,  which  the 
 Divine  Spirit  communicates  to  the  regenerate  man,  the 
 "new  creature."  To  this  interpretation  the  most  ob- 
 vious objection  is,  that  the  Apostle,  when  he  specifies 
 "soul  and  spirit"  as  parts  of  the  human  compound, 
 evidently  designs  to  express  our  universal  nature ; 
 whereas  "spirit/*  according  to  this  interpretation,  is 
 
195 
 
 no  common   property   of  the  race,   but  the   peculiar 
 distinction  of  regenerate  men. 
 
 Others,,  again,  may  suppose  the  term  "  spirit"  to 
 designate  the  heart ,  the  seat  of  feelings  and  affections ; 
 a  province  of  our  nature,  perceptibly  distinct  from  the 
 province  of  the  mind,  of  thought  and  intellect,  to  which, 
 according  to  this  view,  the  term  "  soul"  is  restricted  : 
 the  former  being  situate  in  the  prcecordia,  the  latter  in 
 the  cranium.  The  perfect  discrimination  of  "soul  and 
 spirit/'  thus  understood,  is  an  apt  evidence  of  that 
 Omniscience  which,  co-existent  with  Omnipresence, 
 alone  can  analyse  the  whole  mystery  of  man.  (Heb. 
 iv.  12.)  Yet  perhaps  it  will  be  difficult  to  produce 
 any  instance,  that  such  are  the  distinctive  uses  of  these 
 two  terms  in  the  apostolic  pages. 
 
 Line  229. — The  scene,  to  which  these  lines  allude, 
 is  Nightingale  valley  in  Leigh  woods.  So  again,  /.  250. 
 
 Line  241. — The  sentiment  that  the  Creation  ad- 
 umbrates the  Deity,  is  illustrated  in  the  Chevalier 
 Ramsay's  Principles  of  Religion,  book  ii.  prop.  21  ;  a 
 work  in  which  extraordinary  genius  and  grandeur  are 
 combined  with  much  eccentricity  and  error. 
 
 Line  202. — M  Concevons  V  Immensite  de  Dieu,  non 
 
 comme  un  attribut  particulier,  si  j'ose  ainsi  dire,   de 
 
 la  Divinite,  comme  la  bonte,  la  sagesse;   mais  comme 
 
 l'etendue  ou  1'  infinite  de  plusieurs  autres.     L'  Immen- 
 
 K 
 
196 
 
 site  de  Dieu  est  cette  propriete  universelle  qui  fait 
 que  Dieu  se  communique  a  tout,  qu'il  se  repand  sur 
 tout,  qu'il  est  grand  mobile  de  tout/     Saurin. 
 
 "  &  esprit  de  V  homme  doit  son  existence  a  un  Etre 
 superieur,  a  une  cause  etrangere,  qui  ne  lui  donne  que 
 les  idees  que  bon  lui  semble,  et  a  qui  il  a  plu  de  lui 
 cacher~des  mysteres  sans  nombre.  Mais  Dieu,  Dieu 
 non  seulement  ne  doit  pas  son  existence  a  une  cause 
 etrangere,  mais  tout  ce  qui  existe  lui  doit  son  etre. 
 Ses  idees  ont  ete  les  modeles  de  tout  ce  qui  est,  et  il 
 n'a  qu'a  se  contempler  soi-meme  pour  le  connoitre 
 parfaitement."     Ibid. 
 
 (<  When  men  have  entered  sufficiently  into  the 
 ways  of  piety,  God  appears  more  and  more  to  them 
 in  the  whole  course  and  tenour  of  their  lives;  and, 
 by  uniting  Himself  with  all  their  sensations  and 
 intellectual  perceptions,  overpowers  all  the  pains, 
 augments  and  attracts  to  Himself  all  the  pleasures. 
 Every  thing  sweet,  beautiful,  and  glorious,  brings  in 
 the  idea  of  God,  mixes  with  it,  and  vanishes  into  it. 
 For  all  is  God's;  He  is  the  only  cause  and  reality;  and 
 the  existence  of  every  thing  else  is  only  the  effect, 
 pledge,  and  proof  of  His  existence  and  glory.  Let  the 
 mind  be  once  duly  seasoned  ?wilh  this  truth  and  its 
 practical  applications;  and  every  the  most  indifferent 
 thing  will  become  food  for  religious  meditation,  a  book 
 of  devotion,  and  a  psalm  of  praise. — All  other  affec- 
 tions will  point  to  the  love  of  God,  like  so  many  lines 
 
107 
 
 terminating  in  the  same  center:  for  they  are  all  impure 
 and  idolatrous,  except  when  considered  as  the  method- 
 appointed  by  God  to  beget  in  us  the  love  of  Himself; 
 they  must  all  be  tried  and  purified  by  the  fire  of  His 
 love,  and  pass  thereby  from  human  to  Divine.5' 
 
 Hartley  on  max. 
 
 "  Our  idea  of  the  Divine  character  is  continually 
 receiving  fresh  accessions,  is  continually  growing  more 
 extended  and  refulgent,  by  having  transferred  upon  it 
 new  perceptions  of  beauty  and  goodness;  by  attracting 
 to  itself,  as  a  center,  whatever  bears  the  impress  of 
 dignity,  order,  or  happiness.  It  borrows  splendour 
 from  all  that  is  fair,  subordinates  to  itself  all  that  is 
 great,  and  sits  enthroned  on  the  riches  of  the  universe.'' 
 
 R.  Hall. 
 
 Line  277. — "  The  mountains  melted, — even  that 
 Sinai."  Judg,  v.  5.     So  Ps.  Ixviii.  8. 
 
 Line 292. — u  Stood  vast  Infinitude  coniin'd." 
 
 Paradise  Lost.  b.  iii.  v.  711. 
 
 Linc  206. — The  union  of  Locality  and  Immensity  is 
 appropriated  by  our  Saviour  in  those  words:  "No 
 man  (Gr.  no  being]  hath  ascended  up  to  heaven,  but 
 He  that  came  down  from  heaven,  even  the  Son  of 
 man  which  U  in  heaven."  John  iii.  13. 
 
 "  He  also  went 
 
 Invisible,  yet  stay'd  ;  such  privi! 
 
 Hath  Omnipresence/'    Paradise  Lost.,  b.  vii.  v.  o90 
 
198 
 
 Line  301. — There  is  every  reason  to  believe,  with 
 the  more  spiritual  divines,  that  all  the  appearances  of 
 the  Lord,  and  the  Angel  of  the  Lord,  recorded  in 
 the  Old  Testament,  were  appearances  of  the  Son  of 
 God,  "  the  image  of  the  invisible  God,"  thus  antici- 
 pating his  incarnation. 
 
 Line  309. — Solomon  :  see  1  Kings  viii.  27. 
 
 Line  312.— Isaiah  lvii.  15.     lxvi.  1,  &c. 
 
 JJne  314. — Omnipresence,  in  common  with  all  the 
 other  attributes  of  Deity,  is  expressly  predicated  of 
 Jesus  Christ,  and  this  in  the  same  terms  in  which  it  is 
 assigned  to  Jehovah.  "  All  in  all/'  the  incommunica- 
 ble character  of  God,  (1  Cor.  xv.  28.)  is  the  distinction 
 of  Jesus  Christ.  (Eph,  i.  ult.  iii.  10.  Coloss.  iii.  11.)  A 
 more  emphatic  expression  of  Omnipresence  cannot  be 
 conceived:  it  is  the  "  Jovis  omnia  plena/'  christianised. 
 And  it  is  remarkable  that,  just  as  Jehovah  repeatedly 
 proclaims  by  Isaiah,  our  Lord  assures  his  followers  in 
 the  same  peculiar  tone  of  universal  perception  and 
 influence,  "I  am  with  you."  Compare  Isaiah  xli.  10. 
 — xliii.  5.  with  Matt,  xviii.  20. — xxviii.  ult. 
 
 Line  349. — It  is  thus  that  we  restore  to  the  proper 
 object  those  beautiful  expressions,  which  an  idolatrous 
 enthusiasm  has  too  often  misapplied  to  the  creature  : 
 "  Heu,  quantd  minus  est,  cum  reliquis  versari,  quam 
 Tui  meminisse !"  (Shenstone's  inscription.)   "  In  solis 
 
199 
 
 Tu   mihi   turba  locis  !"      (Propertius.)     "  Nunquam 
 minus  solus,  quam  cum  solus.'1 
 
 (Scipio,  in  Cic.  de  Oratore.) 
 
 Line  365. — See  1  Cor.  v.  3.  Coloss.  ii.  5.  1  Thess. 
 ii.  17.     Heb.  xii„  22,  23. 
 
 Line  380.— Allusion  to  Job  xxviii.  14. 
 
 Line  403.— Ps.  lxxiii.  25. 
 
 Line  431, — "  Igneus  est  ollis  vigor."     Virgil. 
 
 Line  474. — "  There  is  a  spiritual  body:"  (1  Cor. 
 xv.  44.)  a  body,  to  the  life  of  which  the  presence  of 
 the  spirit  alone  is  necessary  ;  a  body,  of  which  all 
 the  members,  and  organs  of  sensation,  will  be  perfectly 
 adapted  to  the  spiritual  objects  and  exercises  of  heaven. 
 
 Line  480. — "  Knowledge  shall  vanish  away  ;  Cha- 
 rity (Love)  never  faileth."     (1  Cor.  xiii.  8.) 
 
 Line  486. — ci  I  saw  no  temple  therein  ; — and  the 
 city  had  no  need  of  the  sun  :"  &c.  (Rev.  xxi,  22,  23.) 
 
 Line  501. — "Which  things  the  Angels  desire  to  look 
 into:'  (1  Peter,  i.  12,)  The  original  word  is  the  same 
 which  is  applied  to  the  disciple  stooping  forward  to 
 examine  the  dark  sepulchre  of  our  Lord.  It  has  been 
 supposed  to  allude  to  the  attitude  of  the  symbolical 
 cherubim,  stationed  at  each  end  of  the  mercy-seat 
 within  the  Holy  of  Holies. 
 
200 
 
 Line  504.  —Ps.  viii.  5.  and  Heb,  ii.  7, 16.  "  He  took 
 not  on  him  the  nature  of  Angels/'  &e.  This  sense  of 
 the  words,  which  is  sanctioned  by  Owen  and  Park- 
 hurst,  appears  more  agreeable  to  the  context  than  that 
 which  our  judicious  translators  have  referred  to  the 
 margin  :  "  He  taketh  not  hold  of  Angels/'  &c.  Our 
 Saviour  describes  the  redeemed  in  glory,  as  WayyeXoi, 
 "  equal  or  similar  to  Angels/'    (Luke  xx.  36.) 
 
 Line  532. — "  By  Horeb  wandering,"  &c. 
 
 Paradise  Lost,  b,  i.  v.  7, 10. 
 
 Line  538. — "  Far  from  the  height,"  &c. 
 ft  Into  what  depth/'  &c. 
 
 Ibid.  b.  i,  v.  24  &  91, 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 J.  Chilcott,  Printer,  6,  High  Street,  Bristol. 
 
THE 
 
 VISIONS    OF    P  ATM  OS 
 
 A  PROPHETIC  POEM, 
 
 Illu&ratfte  oi  tje  &poraIr>p$e ; 
 
 AN    INTRODUCTION    AND    NOTES. 
 
 The  £ev.  THOMAS  GRINFIELD,  M.  A. 
 
 Late  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
 
 "  Blessed  is  he  that  readetb,  and  they  that  hear,  the  words  of  thi« 
 prophecy- '■'—Rev.  i.  3. 
 
 **  Si  ea  sit,  quani  dixi,  Prophetic  ipsius  iudoles  ;  exinde  satis 
 intelligi  potest,  quauto  com  tuo  emolumento  Poesi  adjutriee  et  ad- 
 ministra  utatur." — Lowth.  Prselect.  xx. 
 
 LONDON  : 
 PRINTED  FOR  J.  HATCHARD  &  SON,  PICCADILLY; 
 
 AND  J.  CHILCOTT,  WINE  STREET,  BRISTOL. 
 
 J  827. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The  following  Poem  is  the  result  of  an  atten- 
 tive study  of  the  last  and  most  important  book 
 of  Sacred  Prophecy,  aided  by  the  labours  of 
 the  most  judicious  interpreters.  The  Visions  of 
 the  Apocalypse,  so  sublime  in  their  character, 
 and  recorded  in  a  style  so  highly  figurative, 
 have  a  peculiar,  though  neglected,  claim  to  be 
 exhibited    in    a   poetic  form. 
 
 The  author  has  made  it  his  object  to  inter- 
 weave with  the  inspired  imagery  an  outline  of 
 those  historical  expositions  which,  to  his  judgment, 
 appeared  the  most  probable.  "While  no  inter- 
 preter has  been  implicitly  followed ;  the  differing 
 views  of  Mede,  Bp.  Newton,  Woodhouse,  Scott, 
 and  others,  have  been  alternately  consulted,  and 
 often  combined :  and  it  is  hoped  that  a  con- 
 a 
 
IV  PREFACE. 
 
 siderable  portion  of  instruction  is  here  provided 
 for  those  who,  by  the  new  and  popular  aspect 
 of  a  Prophetic  Poem,  may  be  allured  to  a  most 
 interesting  study,  which  they  might  have  declined 
 if  presented  in  the  customary  form  of  a  long 
 and  learned  dissertation. 
 
 The  Introduction  and  the  Notes'will  be  found 
 to  contain  a  collection  of  materials,  important 
 to  the  illustration  of  the  Prophecy,  both  in  its 
 general  plan,  and  especially  in  its  more  obscure 
 or  more  interesting  parts. 
 
 The  Poem  is  supposed  to  be  uttered  by  a 
 missionary,  who  visits  the  isle  of  Patmos  in 
 his  voyage  to  Palestine,  and  devotes  a  day  to 
 the  contemplation  of  these  Visions,  in  the  cave, 
 called  the  Grotto  of  the  Apocalypse,*  where 
 the  Apostle  is  imagined  to  have  received  them. 
 
 *  See  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke's  Travels, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 §  I.  Analysis  of  the  Visions,  as  represented  in  the  Poem. 
 
 PART    I. 
 
 After  the  introductory  scene,  or  stage  of  the 
 visions,  has  been  exhibited;  (ch.  iv.  and  v.)  a 
 series  of  seven  seals  is  opened  in  succession. 
 This  may  be  regarded  the  first  act  of  the  pro- 
 phetic drama.  The  seals,  as  they  are  here 
 illustrated,  disclose  the  rise  of  Christianity,  and 
 the  successive  judgments  inflicted  on  the  Roman 
 empire  during  the  period  of  its  Pagan  and  per- 
 secuting character;  untii,  under  the  sixth  seal, 
 the  subversion  of  Paganism,  and  the  establishment 
 of  Christianity  in  that  empire,  are  represented  in 
 language  expressive,  in  its  ultimate  reference,  of 
 the  great  day  of  judgment,  and  of  the  final  exalta- 
 tion and  repose  of  the  Church,     (ch.  vi.  and  vii.) 
 
 After   an    appropriate    pause    of    silence ;    the 
 seventh  seal  introduces  a  series  of  seven  trumpets, 
 
 / 
 
VI  INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which  may  be  considered  as  the  second  act  of 
 the  drama.  Of  these,  the  former  four  pourtray, 
 as  we  here  suppose,  the  rapid  desolations  of 
 the  Western  empire,  after  it  became  nominally 
 Christian,  by  the  Goths,  Huns,  Vandals,  and 
 Heruli,  &c.     (ch.  viii.) 
 
 The  three  remaining  trumpets  having  been 
 ushered  in  by  the  name  of  woes ;  under  the  fifth  and 
 sixth  of  these  trumpets,  or  the  first  and  second 
 of  these  woes,  the  scene  is  shifted  from  the 
 West,  in  order  to  exhibit  the  rise  and  progress 
 of  the  Mahommedan  imposture :  and,  as  the 
 first  woe,  the  irruption  of  the  Saracens  into 
 the  Eastern  empire;  as  the  second,  the  destruc- 
 tion of  that  empire  by  the  Turks,  are  vividly 
 pourtrayed.     (ch.  ix.) 
 
 At  this  point  of  the  visions,  while  the  seventh 
 trumpet,  or  third  and  last  woe,  is  yet  expected ; 
 a  little  book,  not  sealed  like  the  larger  volume 
 of  the  seven  seals,  is  introduced  with  great 
 solemnity,  as  an  important  episode  m  the  myste- 
 rious drama.*  (ch.  x.)  Its  contents,  as  here 
 interpreted,   relate    to   the    long   depressed,    yet 
 
 *   A  corresponding  pause  or  digression  seems  to  have  been 
 interposed  between  the  sixth  and  the  seventh  seals,  (ch.  vii.) 
 
INTRODUCTION.  Vll 
 
 ultimately  victorious  condition  of  the  true  Church 
 in  the  West,  during"  the  period  of  the  two  pre- 
 ceding   Eastern  woes.     (ch.   xi.  1 — 14.) 
 
 After  this  episode,  the  seventh  trumpet  sounds 
 its  third  woe  in  a  brief  and  general  manner,  as 
 the  particulars  are  reserved  for  an  enlarged 
 description  in  a  subsequent  part  of  the  visions. 
 It  intimates,  however,  in  few  words,  the  tre- 
 mendous destruction  of  the  enemies  of  God,  the 
 triumphant  establishment  of  His  kingdom  on 
 earth,  the  general  resurrection,  the  last  judg- 
 ment, and  the  destinies  of  eternity  to  the  righteous 
 and    the    wicked,      (ch.  xi.   15 — alt.) 
 
 PART    II. 
 
 "  Magnus  ab  integro  saeclorum  nascitur  ordo."-*ViRG. 
 
 The  Prophet,  having  thus  arrived  at  the  end 
 of  the  terrestrial,  and  the  opening  of  the  eternal 
 state,  instantly  reverts  to  the  period  from  which 
 his  visions  had  originally  commenced  :  he  con- 
 templates the  newly-risen  Church  of  Christ,  as 
 furiously  but  vainly  persecuted  by  Pagan  Rome, 
 and  preserved  by  Divine  superintendance  during 
 the  long  predetermined  continuance  of  her 
 a2 
 
Vlll  INTRODUCTION. 
 
 affliction.*  (ch#  xii.)  He  is  then  presented  with 
 a  vivid  hieroglyphical  portraiture  of  the  papal 
 Roman  empire,  both  in  its  secular  and  its  eccle- 
 siastical form.  (ch.  xiii.)  As  if  to  console  him 
 after  this  appalling  exhibition,  he  is  next  favoured 
 with  a  view  of  the  true  followers  of  Christ,  as 
 preserved  during  the  period  of  corruptions  and 
 oppressions;  while  the  rise  and  progress  of  the 
 Protestant  Reformation,  and  the  judgments  in 
 reserve  for  the  antichristian  empire,  are  emphati- 
 cally announced.^     (ch.  xiv.) 
 
 The  successive  execution  of  those  judgments  is 
 represented,  in  the  following  vision,  by  the  effusion 
 of  seven  vials  full  of  the  Divine  wrath. J  (ch.  xv. 
 and  xvi.)  And,  that  the  "  great  city,"  whose 
 destruction  was  about  to  be  copiously  and  awefully 
 celebrated,  might  be  rendered  distinct  and  palpa- 
 ble ;  a  more  minute  delineation  of  her  features  is 
 
 *  This  vision  appears  to  correspond,  in  respect  to  the 
 period  which  it  embraces,  with  the  disclosures  of  the  six 
 former  seals. 
 
 t  The  visions  of  these  two  chapters  (xiii.  and  xiv.)  appear 
 to  synchronise  with  the  contents  of  the  little  book,  or  with  the 
 discoveries  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  trumpets,  of  the  first  and 
 second  woes. 
 
 $  Of  these  vials,  the  former  six  are  here  supposed  to  be 
 discharged  under  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth  trumpet,  or 
 second  woe  ;  while  the  seventh  is  reserved  to  open  the  seventh 
 trumpet,  and  to  constitute  the  last  woe. 
 
INTRODUCTION.  IX 
 
 here  interposed,  as  a  kind  of  digressive  or  paren- 
 thetic enlargement  on  that  which  had  been  already 
 given,  (ch.  xvii.  compared  with  ch.  xiii.)  This  is 
 succeeded  by  the  triumph  of  the  Church  antici- 
 pating the  destruction  of  papal  Rome,  and  by  that 
 destruction  as  accomplished  by  the  omnipotence  of 
 Christ,  (ch.  xviii.  and  xix.)  The  extinction  of 
 antichristian  powers  is  crowned  by  the  exclusion  of 
 infernal  influence  for  along  predetermined  period, 
 during  which  the  rising  saints  participate  with 
 their  Lord  the  reign  of  righteousness  on  earth. 
 This  blissful  state,  however,  is  at  last  disturbed  by 
 the  return  of  Satanic  agency,  and  the  renewed 
 efforts  of  Satanic  agents.  The  rebellion  is  permit- 
 ted but  for  a  short  space:  the  sudden  and  final 
 destruction  of  Satan,  the  general  resurrection,  the 
 last  judgment,  and  the  destinies  of  eternity,  once 
 more  conduct  the  visions  to  the  same  point  at  which 
 the  former  series  had  closed.*     (ch.  xx.) 
 
 The  scene  is  here  transferred  from  the  present 
 to  the  new  creation ;  and  the  celestial  state  is 
 painted  in  more  than  millennial  imagery,  (ch.  xxi. 
 and  xxii.) 
 
 *  The  visions  pourtrayed  in  chapters  xviii.  xix.  and  the 
 former  part  of  xx.  are  evidently  coincident  with  the  period  of 
 the  seventh  trumpet,  as  briefly  sketched  at  the  close  of 
 chapter  xi. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 §  II. — Table  of  parallelisms  or  correspondences,  as 
 here  supposed  to  exist  between  the  visions  of  the  former, 
 and  those  of  the  latter  series* 
 
 I.  The  crowned  conqueror  going  forth  on  the 
 white  horse,  under  the  first  seal,  (vi.  2.)  appears  to 
 correspond,  in  respect  both  to  the  person  and  the 
 period,  with  the  man-child,  born  of  the  woman, 
 and  destined  to  rule  the  nations,  (xii.  5.)  The 
 same  conqueror  re-appears,  more  completely  armed, 
 and  more  gloriously  arrayed,  for  his  final  triumph 
 over  the  beast  and  the  false  prophet,  in  a  future 
 part  of  the  visions,     (xix.  11 — 16.) 
 
 II.  The  judicial  desolations  of  the  Pagan 
 Koman  empire,  represented  by  the  five  following 
 seals,  (vi.  4 — ult.)  appear  to  correspond  with  the 
 war  of  Michael  against  the  dragon,  (xii.  7.) 
 
 III.  The  overthrow  of  the  empire,  after  it  be- 
 came nationally  Christian,  represented  by  the  four 
 
 *  The  writer  may  perhaps  be  permitted  to  remark,  that  this 
 Table  has  not  been  constructed  without  that  deliberation,  and 
 is  not  presented  without  that  diffidence,  which  the  subject  so 
 singularly  demands, 
 
INTRODUCTION.  XI 
 
 former  trumpets,  (viii.  6 — 12.)  appears  to  corres- 
 pond with  the  expulsion  of  the  dragon.*     (xii.  9.) 
 
 IV.  The  sounding  of  the  sixth  trumpet,  or  the 
 first  woe ;  (ix.  1.)  the  commencement  of  the  Gen- 
 tiles treading  the  holy  city,  (xi.  2.)  and  of  the 
 witnesses  prophesying  in  sackcloth ;  (xi.  3.)  the 
 flight  of  the  woman  into  the  wilderness ;  (xii.  6.) 
 and  the  rise  of  the  two  beasts ;  (xiii.  1,  11.)  all 
 appear  to  receive  their  date  from  the  same  era. 
 
 V.  The  continuance  of  the  Gentiles  in  the 
 holy  city ;  of  the  witnesses  in  sackcloth ;  of  the 
 woman  in  the  wilderness;  (xii.  14.)  and  of  the  ten- 
 horned  beast  in  his  power;  (xiii.  5.)  has  been  justly 
 distinguished  by  MEDEf  as  the  cardinal  four-fold 
 
 *  "  The  first  four  trumpets  describe  the  removal  of  that 
 power  which,  in  the  days  of  Paul,  had  prevented  the  de- 
 velopement  of  the  man  of  sin  ;  (2Thes.ii.)  namely,  the  western 
 imperial  dignity  of  Rome." — Faber. 
 
 t  M  Primus  mihi  synchronismus  ci  it  nobilis  istius  quater- 
 nionis  vaticiniorum." — Clavis  Apocalyptica.  This  work, 
 published  in  1628,  may  be  regarded  as  containing  the  "  Prin- 
 cipia"  of  prophetic  science;  while  its  modest  and  philosophic 
 author  claims  to  be  distinguished  as  the  Newton  of  the  pro- 
 phetic system,  and  presents  an  edifying  contrast  to  the  self- 
 confident  precipitation  of  some  later  expositors.  His  merit  is 
 well  pourtrayed  by  Bishop  Hurd  :  Introduction  to  the  study  of 
 the  Prophecies,  Serm.  X. 
 
 — "  Sagacious  Mede,  whose  deep  research, 
 Unwearied,  on  the  banks  of  classic  Cam, 
 
Xll  INTRODUCTION. 
 
 synchronism  of  the  Apocalypse ;  being  repeatedly 
 defined  as  the  prophetic  period  of  a  time,  times, 
 and  half  a  time ;  forty-two  months ;  or  1260  days. 
 
 VI.  The  period,  comprised  by  the  fifth  and  sixth 
 trumpets,  or  the  two  former  woes,  (ix.)  appears  to 
 be  nearly  parallel  with  this  central  era  of  apostacy  : 
 the  scene  of  these  two  woe-trumpets  being  in  the 
 East;  that  of  the  four  events,  above  distinguished 
 as  characteristics  of  this  apostatic  era,  in  theWest. 
 
 VII.  The  144,000,  sealed  as  the  Israel  of  God, 
 after  the  persecutions  of  Pagan  Rome,  (vii.  1— -8.) 
 re-appear  as  the  144,000  virgin  attendants  of  the 
 Lamb,  after  the  persecutions  of  Papal  Rome. 
 (xiv.  1 — 5.)  They  may  be  regarded  as  substantially 
 the  same  with  the  witnesses  in  sackcloth,  and  with 
 the  woman  in  the  wilderness ;  in  other  words,  with 
 the  true  Church  of  Christ. 
 
 VIII.  The  latter  part  of  the  sixth  trumpet  or 
 second  woe,  (ix.  20,  21.)  and  the  latter  part  of  the 
 great  period  of  apostacy,  (xi.  xii.  xiii.)  appear  to 
 
 Discover'd  first  the  'Apocalyptic  key, 
 
 Golden,  synchronical ;  whose  curious  parts, 
 
 In  admirable  order  fitting  well, 
 
 UnbarrM  the  gate  of  Prophecy,  the  porch 
 
 Of  mystic  Revelation ! " — Palingenesia  :  a  Poem.  1824, 
 
INTRODUCTION.  Xlll 
 
 coincide  with  the  stages  of  the  Protestant  Reforma- 
 tion, supposed  to  be  represented  by  the  three  pro- 
 claiming angels,  (xiv.  6 — 13.)* 
 
 IX.  Of  the  seven  vials  of  wrath,  emblematic 
 of  successive  judgments  on  the  antichristian  em- 
 pire, (xvi.)  the  former  six  appear  to  be  c&scharged 
 under  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth  trumpet,  (ix.  20, 
 21.)  and  of  the  1260  years ;  continuing  also  during 
 the  first  additional  period  of  thirty  years,  as  specified 
 by  Daniel :  (Dan.  xii.  11.)  while  the  seventh  vial,  or 
 last  plague,  seems  to  coincide  with  the  opening 
 scene  of  the  seventh  trumpet,  or  last  woe;  (comp. 
 x.  6.  xi.  19.  xvi.  17,  18.)  and,  perhaps,  also  with 
 the  last  additional  period  of  forty-five  years  as 
 specified  by  Daniel.     (Dan.  xii.  12.)f 
 
 *  Possibly,  however,  as  the  virgin  attendants  of  the  Lamb 
 are  introduced  after  the  period  of  papal  persecutions,  these 
 angelic  heralds  may  describe,  in  triumphant  anticipation,  that 
 prosperity  of  the  Gospel,  and  those  judicial  visitations  on  its 
 foes,  which  are  reserved  for  the  prophetic  intervals  of  thirty 
 and  forty-five  years,  subsequent  to  the  period  of  1260  years. 
 
 t  "  Ergo  quinque  ad  minimum  phialarum  erTunduntur  ante 
 desitum  sextae  tubae  clangorem ;  credo  etiam  quod  sexta: 
 phiala  vero  septima,  quae  consummationis  est,  proinde  con- 
 curret  cum  initio  tubae  septimae,  quae  itidem  consummationis 
 est." — Meue.  It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  mention  that 
 other?,  with  Bp.  Newton,  Scott,  Faber,  and  Woodhojse, 
 regard  all  the  vials  as  comprised  within  the  period  of  the 
 seventh  trumpet,  or  as  containing  the  ingredients  of  the  third 
 or  last  woe. 
 
XIV  INTRODUCTION. 
 
 X.  The  harvest  and  the  vintage  (xiv.  14 — 20  J 
 may  be  not  improbably  supposed  to  correspond  in 
 their  period  with  that  of  the  vials ;  (xvi.)  the  har- 
 vest, with  the  former  vials,  the  latter  part  of  the 
 sixth  trumpet,  and  the  added  thirty  years  of  Daniel ; 
 the  vintage,  with  the  last  vial,  the  opening  of  the 
 last  woe-trumpet,  and  the  added  forty-five  years  of 
 Daniel. 
 
 i 
 
 XI.  The  fall  of  the  mystic  Babylon,  as  copiously 
 described  and  celebrated  in  chapters  xvii,  xviii,  and 
 xix,  appears  to  coincide,  with  the  gathering  of  the 
 vintage,  the  effusion  of  the  last  vial,  the  sounding 
 of  the  last  woe,  and  the  final  ante-millennial  interval 
 of  forty-five  years. 
 
 XII.  The  revival  and  rise  of  the  slain  wit- 
 nesses,* at  the  close  of  the  second  woe,  just  before 
 the  announcement  of  the  seventh  trumpet  that 
 "  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  are  become  the  king- 
 dom of  our  Lord  and  of  His  Christ ;"  (ch.  xi.  11 — 
 15.)  appear  to  correspond  with  the  first  resurrec- 
 tion of  the  slain  witnesses,  as  introducing  the  mil- 
 lennial reign  of  Christ  on  earth,     (ch.  xx.  4 — 6.) 
 
 *  The  three  days  and  a  half,  during  which  these  witnesses  lie 
 dead,(ch.xi.7 — 12)  have  been  identified  by  some  with  the  three 
 times  and  a  half,  or  12G0  years.    (See  Lowman,  Guyse,  &c.) 
 
INTRODUCTION.  XV 
 
 XIII.  The  first  and  the  last  resurrection  of  the 
 dead,  the  millennial  and  the  celestial  exaltation  of 
 the  saints,  together  with  the  final  rebellion  and 
 destruction  of  the  enemies  of  God,  as  explicitly 
 described  in  chapter  xx.  appear 'to  have  been 
 more  indistinctly  announced  in  the  epitome  of  the 
 seventh  trumpet,  or  third  woe.  (xi.  15 — ult.)* 
 
 XIV.  The  Prophecy  having  thus  arrived,  in  both 
 its  parts,  at  the  termination  of  events  relative 
 to  the  Christian  Church  on  earth ;  the  twenty-first 
 and  twenty-second  chapters  seem  to  be  appended 
 to  the  whole,  as  a  general  conclusion,  at  once  of 
 this  prophetic  book,  and  of  the  Divine  testimonies 
 to  which  it  belongs.  Accordingly  there  appears  to 
 be  nothing  in  the  former  part  strictly  correspondent 
 with  this  conclusion ;  unless  we  except  the  sublime 
 digression  introduced  as  the  sequel  of  the  sixth 
 
 *  Though  the  seventh  trumpet  is  denominated,  from  its 
 introductory  judgments,  the  third  woe  ;  yet,  in  its  prevailing: 
 character,  it  resembles  an  antitype  of  the  sabbatic  "  trumpet 
 of  the  Jubilee  ;"  (Levit.  xxv.  8.)  or  "  the  great  trumpet," 
 which  Isaiah  announces  (xxvii.  ult.)  as  destined  to  be  "blown 
 in  that  day  when  the  children  of  Israel  shall  be  gathered  one  by 
 one/'  By  some,  perhaps,  it  may  be  deemed  more  reasonable 
 to  suppose  that  this  final  trumpet  of  awful  and  glorious  annun- 
 ciation terminates  its  appropriate  period  at  the  point  where  a 
 new  scene  is  introduced  in  the  millennial  reign  of  Christ  on 
 earth. 
 
XVI  INTRODUCTION. 
 
 seal.  (vii.  9 — ult.)  Some,  however,  with  Mede, 
 have  deemed  it  more  reasonable  to  regard  this 
 concluding  description  as  an  illustrative  enlarge- 
 ment on  the  millennial  state.  (Compare  Isai.  Ixv. 
 Ixvi.  and  2  Pet.  Hi.) 
 
 §  III. — General  Remarks. 
 
 The  former  series  of  visions  having  conducted 
 us  to  the  end  of  all  things ;  a  second  series  com- 
 mences, parallel  with  the  preceding,  and  designed 
 as  an  expository  supplement.  The  former  part 
 having  been  more  crowded  with  successive  events, 
 and  more  chronologically  definite  in  its  method  ; 
 the  latter  part  is  less  artificial  or  systematic  in  its 
 arrangement,  and  more  diffuse  on  certain  impor- 
 tant subjects,  while  others  are  wholly  omitted.  In 
 the  former  part,  which  is  executed  in  the  manner 
 of  rapid  and  summary  sketches,  the  prophetic 
 history  proceeds  in  a  direct  order  through  the 
 several  Seals  and  Trumpets,  interrupted  only  by 
 the  introduction  of  the  Little  Book  between  the 
 sixth  and  the  last  Trumpet ;  while,  with  the  ex- 
 ception of  lhat  episode,  it  presents  the  affairs  of 
 the  empire  as  connected  with  the  Church  : — in  the 
 latter  part,  a  series  of  more  enlarged  and  finished 
 
INTRODUCTION.  XV11 
 
 pictures  exhibits  the  varied  destinies  of  the  Church 
 itself.  The  former  part  having  chiefly  described 
 the  secular  circumstances  of  Christianity  ;  the 
 latter  retraces  its  progress  with  regard  to  its  eccle- 
 siastical concerns. 
 
 The  style  and  imagery  of  these  visions,  com- 
 bining magnificence  with  simplicity,  are  formed 
 upon  the  model  of  the  Hebrew  prophets;  especially 
 Isaiah,  Ezekiel,  Daniel,  and  Zecbariah.  There  is, 
 also,  a  pervading  allusion  to  the  circumstances,  both 
 of  the  Jewish  worship,  and  of  the  Jewish  history. 
 The  more  remarkable  events  of  Providence,  in  its 
 ancient  dispensations  to  the  Church,  are  frequently 
 recalled  to  the  mind,  as  types  and  samples  of  the 
 predicted  futurities. 
 
 Hence  a  constant  comparison  of  the  correspond- 
 ing features  of  the  Old  Testament  with  the  passages 
 of  this  book,  to  which  they  appear  analogous,  is  a 
 very  serviceable  clue  in  our  attempts  to  find  our 
 way  through  the  mazes  of  these  visions.  Another 
 and  a  not  less  necessary  guide  to  the  exact  interpre- 
 tation of  this  Prophecy  must  be  sought  in  the 
 comparison  of  its  corresponding  parts  among  them- 
 selves. Having  thus,  in  the  first  place,  studied  its 
 internal  style  and  structure,  we  must  institute  a 
 farther  comparison,   between   the  features  of  the 
 
XVlll  INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Prophecy,  and  those  of  its  progressive  developement 
 and  interpretation  in  Providence  :  in  the  facts  of 
 History,  so  far  as  they  have  been  connected  with  the 
 vicissitudes  of  the  Christian  Church,  we  must 
 explore  the  substance  of  the  visionary  prospects 
 here  presented. 
 
 It  was  to  be  expected  that  the  oracles  of  God 
 would  close  in  a  style  of  more  than  their  ordinary 
 grandeur;  and  that,  if  they  closed  with  a  series  of 
 visions  exhibited  by  the  Son  of  God  to  the  most 
 favoured  of  His  Apostles,  those  visions  would 
 surpass  the  majesty  and  importance  of  all  preceding 
 Prophecy.  And  the  fact  will  be  found  to  justify 
 the  most  enlarged  expectation.  To  adopt  the 
 eloquent  language  of  a  living  author,  distinguished 
 alike  by  the  intellectual  and  Christian  expansion 
 of  his  mind  :  "  The  writer  of  the  Apocalypse, 
 endowed  with  a  genius  equally  simple  and  sublime, 
 mingles  with  ease  among  the  worshippers  before 
 the  throne,  communes  with  beings  of  the  highest 
 order,  and  surveys  the  splendours  of  the  celestial 
 temple  with  an  eye  that  never  blenched. —Few 
 have  been  found  capable  of  preserving  a  perfect 
 sobriety  and  composure  in  the  midst  of  the  stu- 
 pendous scenery  which  he  displays  ;  where  the 
 curtain  rises  and  falls  so  often,  where  new  creations 
 so  rapidly  succeed  each   other,   accompanied   by 
 
INTRODUCTION.  XIX 
 
 myriads  of  the  angelic  order, and  by  the  sound  of  trum- 
 pets and  voices  and  thunderings  and  earthquakes.'* 
 All  Revelation,  especially  all  prophetic  Revelation, 
 is  replete  with  wonders:  but  that  which  is  pre- 
 eminently distinguished  as  The  Revelation 
 of  Jesus  Christ  to  His  servant  John,  as  it  is 
 the  last,  is  the  most  wonderful  portion  of  the 
 book  of  God  :  most  wonderful  in  its  method  and 
 its  machinery;  in  its  correspondences  and  its  tran- 
 sitions ;  in  its  harmonies  and  its  intricacies  ;  in  its 
 comprehensiveness  and  its  minuteness  ;  in  its  union 
 of  devotional  with  prophetic  significancy  ;  in  its 
 bright  obscurity,  and  its  regular  confusion. 
 
 The  whole  may  be  regarded  as  a  synopsis  of 
 Ecclesiastical  History,  glancing  with  a  sententious 
 rapidity  over  the  prominent  outlines  of  a  subject 
 so  extensive  and  multifarious,  from  the  first  age 
 of  the  Christian  Church  to  the  opening  of  the 
 celestial  economy.  It  is  a  sublime  personification 
 of  the  Providence  of  God,  from  which  the  dark 
 veil  that  long  enveloped  it  has  been  slowly  and 
 partially  withdrawn  by  the  hand  of  Time  and  by  the 
 labours  of  consecrated  Learning;  but  the  perfect 
 disclosure  of  its  mysterious  features  is  reserved  for 
 the  unclouded  illumination  of  Eternity. 
 
THE 
 
 VISIONS   OF   PATHOS. 
 
 PART  I. 
 
 I  stood  on  Patmos,  tranc'd  in  thought  profound  : 
 'Tvvas  rude  and  lonely  Nature  all  around. 
 While  classic  pilgrims  throng  d  Athenian  piles, 
 I  turn'd  to  thee,  thou  holiest  of  the  isles  ! 
 What  though,  unsought,  thou  lurk'st  on  ocean's  breast, 
 Where  the  fierce  pirate  comes,  thine  only  guest  r 
 Yet  here,  unroll'd  to  John's  prophetic  eye, 
 All  Time,  in  mystic  visions,  glided  by  ! 
 
 Here,  ere  my  bark  her  sacred  course  pursues, 
 Here  let  me  sit,  and  o'er  those  visions  muse, 
 Lone  in  this  cave,  the  same  where  he,  perchance, 
 Darted  through  unborn  Time  his  inward  glance. 
 And  lo,  the  Lord's  own  day  !*     From  age  to  age 
 I'll  trace  the  Church,  in  guidance  of  his  page  j 
 And  read,  reviewing  scenes  by  heaven  forecast, 
 The  prophet's  future  in  the'  historian's  past. 
 
 But  oh,  what  mist  and  darkness  yet  eclipse 
 Thy  piercing  light,  inspir'd  Apocalypse  ! 
 
 *  Rev.  ch.  i.  10. 
 B 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Trembling,  along  thy  labyrinth  I  lock, 
 And  weep,  with  John,  that  none  can  ope  the  book.* 
 Oh,  for  a  heavenly  hand,  those  depths  to'  unfold ! 
 —What  though  long  centuries,  thrice  six,  have  roll'd, 
 How  dim  the  twilight,  o'er  thy  scenery  thrown, 
 Though  every  seal  its  secrets  now  hath  shown, 
 And  the  last  trump  hath  heard  its  signal  to  be  blown 
 
 ,} 
 
 Ye  seven  recorded  Churches  !  though  no  more 
 Ye  gild,  like  sister  stars,  yon  eastern  shore  5 
 How  can  I  tread  the  temple  of  my  theme, 
 Nor  mourn  your  glories,  vanished  like  a  dream  ? 
 Pathetic  monitors,  that  all  must  lose 
 The'  entrusted  light  they  prize  not,  nor  diffuse  ! 
 Thou,  faithful  Philadelphia,  sole  art  found, 
 Like  the  lone  column  left,  where  Ruin  reigns  around  ! 
 
 THE  INTRODUCTORY  SCENE. 
 
 IHark,  a  deep  voice  calls,  trumpet-like; 
 Rise  hither,  while  I  show  thee  things  to  be  I" 
 Instant,  enrapt,  I  share  the  Prophet's  trance  : 
 —What  sudden  glories  burst  upon  my  glance  ! 
 A  vista  glimpse  of  heaven's  interior  shrine  ! — 
 Profane  not,  words,  the  Majesty  Divine, 
 
 *  Ch.  v.  4.  t  Ch.  iv. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  O 
 
 That,  sun-like,  fills  yon  rainbow-circled  throne  $ 
 
 AVhere  the  redeem'd,  in  mystic  emblem  shown, 
 
 Their  strains  of  love,  with  angel  myriads,  pour, 
 
 And,  in  eternal  ravishment,  adore  ! 
 
 The  thunders,  lightnings,  and  that  sea  of  glass, 
 
 That  crystal  hyaline, — with  awe  I  pass  ; 
 
 Nor  on  those  seven  mysterious  lamps,  that  blaze 
 
 Around  the  throne,  dare  fix  my  blasted  gaze. 
 
 f  Lo,  on  the  throne,  in  dark  excess  of  light, 
 Sits  One  who  grasps  a  roll  within  His  right, 
 Seal'd  with  a  sevenfold  seal,  inscrib'd  all  o'er 
 With  mazy  lines  no  science  can  explore. 
 And  hark,  an  angel,  to  the'  expectant  crowd, 
 Herald  himself,  and  champion,  cries  aloud  5 
 "  What  hand  unseals  the  book,  whose  seals  are  seven  ?" — 
 He  call'd, — none  answer  d  ; — silence  was  in  heaven  ! 
 Silence,  how  deep,  how  dread  ! — for  on  that  book, 
 In  heaven,  or  earth,  or  hades,  none  might  look. 
 I  wept.     "Oh,  weep  not!"  one  exclaim'd $  "but  hope  ! 
 There  is,  there  is,  who  well  that  book  can  ope  !" 
 Soon  broke  the  silence  :  pealing  raptures  rise  : 
 "  Lion  of  Judah,  come  !"  symphonious  heaven  replies  5 
 w  Come,  Root  of  David  !  burst  the  sevenfold  seal ! 
 Unlock  the  leaves,  that  far  events  reveal !" — 
 Joyous  I  heard  5  and,  midst  the'  adoring  train, 
 Saw,  on  the  throne,  a  Lamb  as  newly  slain  : 
 Seven  emblematic  horns  His  matchless  might, 
 Seven  eyes  express  His  all-pervading  sight. 
 
 t  Cb.  v. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Glorious  He  rose,  and  unpresumptuous  took 
 
 From  God's  own  hand  that  fearful,  fateful  book. 
 
 Swift,  at  the  view,  each  saint  his  harp  prepares  5 
 
 His  golden  vial  each,  replete  with  odorous  prayers. 
 
 Hark,  a  new  song  they  rapturously  sing  : 
 
 iC  Worthy  the  Lamb  I  through  heaven  their  accents  ring  y 
 
 "  Worthy  to  loose  the  sevenfold  seal  I  to  claim 
 
 All  power,  all  blessing,  wisdom,  wealth,  and  fame  ! 
 
 Tis  He  that  lov'd  us,  bath'd  us  in  His  blood, 
 
 Rob'd  us  in  priestly  white,  and  crown'd  us  kings  to  God  !" 
 
 While  myriad,  myriad  angels  peal  the  strain  5 
 
 "  Worthy  the  Lamb  I  the  Lamb,  that  once  was  slain  1 
 
 To  Him,  to  God,  let  heaven,  earth,  hades,  all 
 
 The  choral  universe,  in  prostrate  worship,  fall  !V 
 
 Here,  ere  my  venturous  footsteps  tread  the  maze 
 Of  crowded  scenes  that  met  the  Prophet's  gaze, 
 Let  me  a  moment  linger,  and  behold 
 The  vast  idea  which  those  scenes  unfold  I 
 I  seem  to  o'erhear,  in  ecstacy  sublime, 
 The'  Eternal  Synod  read  the  fates  of  Time ! 
 To  scan  thy  book,  impenetrably  seal'd, 
 Where  the  whole  embryo  future  lies  reveal' d, 
 All-prescient  Providence  I — Thy  will  directs,  ^ 
 
 Thy  wisdom,  through  its  every  link,  connects  > 
 
 The'  interminable  chain  of  causes  and  effects  !  * 
 
 All  in  Thy  purpose  is,  that  e'er  shall  be  ; 
 The  order' d  future  shines,  as  past,  to  Thee  : 
 All,  that  confusion  seems,  but  forms  a  part 
 Of  one  grand  system,  wrought  with  perfect  art. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATHOS.  / 
 
 Wonderful  Counsellor  !   'tis  Thou  alone, 
 
 Imbosom'd  with  Thy  Father,  hast  foreshown 
 
 The  hoards  of  destiny  !  to  Thee  is  given, 
 
 Great  King  of  kings,  all  power  in  earth  and  heaven  ! 
 
 But  chief  Thy  Church  absorbs  her  Lord's  concern  : 
 
 Whate'er  from  Prophecy's  dark  rolls  we  learn, 
 
 Points  to  that  central  theme  :  her  joys,  her  woes, 
 
 First  triumphs,  midway  glooms,  and  glorious  close, 
 
 All  are  forecast,  foreshadow' d,  in  the  page 
 
 That  marks  her  march,  through  each  successive  stage  : 
 
 The  checquer'd  scenes,  these  oracles  rehearse,  ~v 
 
 Are  brief  bold  outlines  of  her  weal  or  curse,  > 
 
 Sketch'd  from  the  secret  book,  that  plans  the  universe. -* 
 
 THE  SEALS. 
 
 *  And  see,  He  comes,  great  Master  of  the  seals  : 
 Each  in  its  turn  His  touch  obedient  feels. 
 The  foremost  yields  :  it  opes  a  beauteous  sight : 
 A  warrior  crown'd,  on  charger  spotless  white, 
 Rides  conquering  and  to  conquer  : — Thou,  great  Lord,") 
 Thou,  in  the  first  fair  triumphs  of  Thy  word  ! 
 Ride,  Priuce  of  peace,  ride  on  ;  wield  gloriously  Thy  f 
 sword !  J 
 
 Make  willing  captives  in  Thy  day  of  power, 
 Countless  as  dew-drops  in  the  morning  hour  ! 
 
 ♦  Ch.  m. 
 B  2 
 
©  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 — Tis  past.     Too  soon,  degenerate  from  the  first, 
 A  different  steed,  a  different  warrior,  burst : 
 Huge  is  his  sword ;  of  fiery  glow  his  steed. 
 Lo,  peace  extinct :  contentions  dire  succeed  : 
 Pagan  and  Jew  in  mutual  carnage  feel, 
 Feel,  and  inflict,  the  guilt-avenging  steeL 
 Nor  less  the  Church  fierce  heresies  divide, 
 And  mar  the  beauty  of  Messiah's  bride. 
 
 Break  the  third  seal.     A  steed  of  sable  hue, 
 A  rider  balancing  the  scales,  I  view  : 
 I  hear  him,  Famine's  harbinger,  announce 
 The  price  of  grain,  and  weigh  the  jealous  ounce. 
 Beckoning  the  meagre  fiend  to  waste  the  foes 
 That  waste  His  Church,  in  wrath  Messiah  goes. 
 Or  say,  does  Truth's  worse  famine  meet  our  search, 
 Eating  the  vitals  of  that  sickty  Church  ? 
 — The  fourth  seal  breaks  :  what  heavier  ills  assail  ? 
 Avaunt,  dread  form  !     A  courser,  deadly  pale, 
 Bears  the  grim  king  of  terrors  5  in  whose  train 
 Four  ghastly  plagues  come  revelling  o'er  the  slain  : 
 They  thicken,  darken,  and,  at  heaven's  just  call, 
 Oh  guilty  Rome,  precipitate  thy  fall ! 
 The  blood  of  martyr'd  myriads,  thou  hast  shed, 
 Asks  the  ripe  vengeance  on  thy  monstrous  head. 
 I  hear  their  souls,  a  disembodied  throng, 
 Cry  from  beneath  the  altar,  "  Lord,  how  long  ! 
 Hear'st  Thou  our  blood  ?"— White  robes  their  sainted 
 
 style  : 
 And,  ff  wait,"  (a  voice  thus  cheers  them)  "  wait  awhile, 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Till  to  their  rest  ye  hail  your  brethren  kill'd, 
 Till  the  red  cup  of  recompense  be  nll'd  IV 
 Era  of  martyrs,  or  by  Pagan  rage 
 Slaughter'd,  or  following  in  each  Papal  age. 
 
 Such  the  last  open'd  seal. — The  sixth  is  broke  : 
 Sudden,  the  lights  of  heaven  are  quench'd  in  smoke  ! 
 The  sun  in  sable  sackcloth  hath  attir'd 
 His  glorious  face,  the  moon  in  blood  expir'd  ! 
 And,  as  the  fig-tree  showers  like  hail  her  fruit, 
 When  the  fierce  whirlwind  shakes  her  to  the  root  -: 
 The  stars  fall  headlong  ! — like  a  shrivell'd  scroll, 
 See  the  spread  firmament  departing  roll  ! 
 Each  isle,  each  mountain  vanish'd  ! — wide  around, 
 A  fateful  earthquake  rocks  the  rending  ground  ! 
 — See  the  vast  empire  in  its  far-felt  fall  ! 
 Her  heroes,  kings,  her  mightiest,  meanest,  all, 
 Smit  with  a  heaven-bred  panic,  midst  the  shock, 
 Call  on  the  mountains,  on  each  bowell'd  rock, 
 i{  Crush  us,  or  cover,  from  Thy  blasting  ire, 
 Almighty  Lamb  !   from  God's  own  glance  of  fire  !" 
 See  the  dread  day  of  visitation  come  ! 
 Who  shall  abide  r — not  thou,  devoted  Rome  ! 
 — Oh  day,  prophetic  of  that  mightier  doom 
 Which  all  the  foes  of  heaven  shall  gather  and  consume  ! 
 
 "  But,  midst  these  horrors,  opes  a  lovely  scene  ; 
 The  scatterd  clouds  leave  heaven  awhile  serene  : 
 
 ♦  Cb.  \ii. 
 
10  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Angels  of  peace  descend,  with  purpose  kind, 
 Each  ruffian  blast,  that  ravag'd  earth,  to  bind. 
 "  Seal  Israel,  now  5"  I  hear  a  voice  proclaim $ 
 "  Seal,  of  each  tribe,  twelve  thousand  with  My  name  !" 
 Let  the  dread  storm,  that  guilty  nations  crush'd, 
 Glide  harmless  o'er  the  Church,  and  into  smiles  be  hush'd : 
 So,  while  the  sword  of  wrath  o'er  Egypt  wav'd, 
 The  seal  of  blood  those  favour'd  first-born  sav'd. 
 Tis  done.     Long  years  of  sacred  suffering  cease  y 
 Smiles  the  glad  Church,  and  breathes  unwonted  peace  -, 
 Peace,  which  imperial  Constantine  bestows, 
 Fostering  her  friends,  o'erwhelming  all  her  foes  5 
 Type  of  a  nobler  scene,  her  bright  millennial  close 
 For  germinant  is  Prophecy,  and  shoots, 
 Age  after  age,  in  like  but  larger  fruits. 
 
 ) 
 
 Here,  in  my  trance,  I  rose  from  earth  :  I  view'd 
 Heaven  opening,  with  its  countless  multitude, 
 Cull'd  from  each  nation,  every  tongue  and  tribe  5 
 A  host,  what  mortal  utterance  can  describe  ? 
 Rob'd  as  in  snow,  around  the  throne  they  stand, 
 Around  the  Lamb  5  palms  in  each  conqueror's  hand  : 
 And  hark,  they  crown  Him  with  eternal  praise. 
 — "Who,"  I  exclaim'd,  "these  hallelujah's  raise?'' 
 — "Thou  seest"  (my  bright  companion  answer'd)  "those 
 Who,  tried  in  persecution's  fiery  woes, 
 Wash'd  and  made  white  their  vestures  in  His  blood. 
 For  this,  they  circle  thus  the  throne  of  God, 
 Day  without  night,  and  in  His  shrine  adore, 
 No  more  to  sorrow,  thirst  and  toil  no  more  ! 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  1  1 
 
 The  Lamb  enthron'd  shall  lead  them,  ever  near, 
 To  living  streams  ;  with  heavenly  pasture  cheer ; 
 And  God  from  every  eye  wipe  off  its  every  tear," 
 
 } 
 
 THE  TRUMPETS. 
 
 *  Here  the  sixth  roll  its  glorious  vision  clos'd. 
 A  pause  of  solemn  silence  interpos'd, 
 Ere  with  the  seventh  last  seal,  before  me  stand 
 Seven  angels  j  each  his  trumpet  in  his  hand. 
 And  soon  another,  as  I  gaz'd  in  thought, 
 Fire  in  a  golden  censer,  priest-like,  caught  5 
 Blending,  with  incense  on  the  altar  strown, 
 The  prayers  of  saints  on  earth,  that  tow'rd  the  throne 
 Rose  like  an  exhalation  sweet :   again 
 With  fire  the  censer  he  replenish'd ;   then 
 Pour'd  it  on  earth,  significant :  when  lo, 
 Midst  thunders,  lightnings,  and  dread  sounds  of  < 
 The'  ethereal  trumpeters  began  to  blow ! 
 
 woe,  > 
 
 The  first  hath  sounded.     A  portentous  flood 
 Of  hail,  and  torrent  fire,  and  mingled  blood, 
 Wastes  the  third  part  of  earth,  enormous  Rome  : 
 — Fierce  Alaric  and  his  Goths  !   they  come,  they  come  ! 
 The  dense,  dark  cloud,  long  gathering  in  the  North, 
 On  Danube's  frontier  pours  its  thunders  forth  ! 
 
12  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Worse  plague  than  Pharaoh's  realm  endur'd,  when  rush'd 
 
 The  dreadful  hail,  and  all  its  verdure  crush'd. 
 
 — Sounds  the  next  trump ;  and  headlong,  at  the  blast, 
 
 A  red  volcano,  on  the  billows  cast, 
 
 Turns  a  third  part  to  blood.     How  swift  behind, 
 
 The  scourge  of  heaven,  the  terror  of  mankind, 
 
 Hastes,  with  his  vultures,  Attila  the  Hun  ! 
 
 Not  yet  the  work  of  devastation  done. 
 
 — The  third  is  blown.     A  star,  of  fiery  gleam, 
 
 With  baleful  bitter  taints  each  fount  and  stream ; 
 
 Wormwood  its  name  :  'tis  Genseric,  with  his  host 
 
 Of  Moors  and  Vandals,  pour'd  from  Afric's  coast. 
 
 — No  pause,  no  rest :  the  fourth  shrill  signal,  hark  ! 
 
 See  the  third  part  of  heaven  eclips'd  and  dark ! 
 
 The'  unwieldy  empire,  prostrate,  gasps  for  breath, 
 
 And  strugglingly,  and  slowly,  yields  to  death  ! 
 
 Theodoric,  with  his  Ostrogoths,  is  come ! 
 
 And  poor  Ravenna  rules  eternal  Rome  ! 
 
 Yet  some  may  deem  that  here  the*  afflicted  Church, 
 Not  sinking  Rome,  demands  our  wise  research ; 
 May  deem,  these  first  four  trumpeters  portend 
 The  woes  that  early  on  that  Church  descend. 
 
 An  angel,  here,  that  through  the  midst  of  heaven 
 Came  flying, — not  himself  among  the  seven, — 
 Cried,  with  thrice-thrilling  accent,  woe,  woe,  woe  ! 
 So  sad  the  voices,  yet  reserv'd  to  blow. 
 Spare  me,  ye  hurrying  Plagues  !  less  thickly  roll ! 
 Visions  of  horror,  "  crowd  not  on  my  soul !" 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  13 
 
 *  The  fifth  stern  herald  blew  his  boding  blast : 
 Shuddering  I  heard.     What  star  from  heaven  is  cast 
 Headlong  to  earth  r  he  bears  dark  Tophet's  key, 
 And  opes  the'  abyss.     A  cloud  of  sulphur,  see, 
 Forth  issuing,  blots  the  sun,  and  taints  the  skies  ! 
 "While  from  the  smoke  a  host  of  locusts  rise  -, 
 Dreadful  to  man,  and  arm'd  with  scorpion  sting : 
 Yet,  in  their  flight,  they  spare  each  verdant  thing 
 Of  nature  :  none  their  venom'd  mischief  feel, 
 Save  those  whose  brow  bears  not  the  heavenly  seal. 
 Five  mystic  months,  thrice  fifty  days  of  years, 
 Tis  theirs  to  torture,  with  their  scorpion  spears, 
 Not  crush,  their  victims  :   see,  the  sufferers  gasp 
 For  death,  as  life ;   but  death  still  mocks  their  grasp  ! 
 Locusts,  in  form  like  martial  chargers  found  > 
 Their  heads,  with  golden-coloured  turbans  crown'd  ; 
 Manly  their  wisker'd  front  -,  with  woman's  hair  5 
 Their  white  teeth,  glittering,  give  the  lion's  glare 
 To  their  swarth  visage  :  mail'd  their  breasts  in  steel : 
 Whirring  their  wings,  as  countless  chariots  wheel 
 In  furious  onset  !   scorpion-like,  their  sting 
 They  leave  behind  them  rankling.     Theirs  a  king, 
 Dark  angel  from  the'  abyss  of  sulphurous  flame, 
 Abaddon,  or  Apollyon,  fatal  name  ! 
 — The'  Arabian  prophet,  with  his  locust  crew, 
 Shadow'd  in  mystic  portraiture  how  true, 
 Their  steeds,  their  fiery  force,  their  turban'd  tresses, 
 view  ! 
 
 *  Ch.  ix. 
 
.} 
 
 14  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Issuing  from  forth  their  native  East,  they  whelm, 
 Thrice  fifty  years,  half  Europe's  eastern  realm. 
 Oh,  curst  invasion  of  Messiah's  reign 
 By  Mecca's  Antichrist,  by  arts  and  arms  profane  ! 
 Or  deem'st  thou  swarming  heresies  pourtray'd, 
 That,  like  a  locust  plague,  the  Church  invade  ? 
 
 But  on !  we  pause  not.     One  woe-vision  past, 
 Two  yet  remain  :  and  hark,  another  blast ! 
 — How  slow  the  history  rolls !  the  prophecy,  how  fast ! 
 ec  Loose  the  four  angels,  in  Euphrates  bound  V9 
 From  midst  the  golden  altar  rose  the  sound, 
 While  the  sixth  herald  blew.     Let  loose,  they  scour   . 
 Their  course  prescrib'd,— a  year,  month,  day,  and  hour 
 Mark  what  a  host  of  horsemen,  at  their  word, 
 — Two  myriad  myriads, — (I  the  number  heard,) 
 Ravage  a  third  of  earth !     Their  corslets  view, 
 Variously  gay  with  hyacinthine  blue, 
 Or  fiery  red,  or  brimstone's  yellow  hue  ! 
 Furious  their  steeds,  as  lions,  in  the'  affray : 
 Fire,  smoke,  and  brimstone  mark  their  slaughterous 
 
 way, 
 A  triple  curse  $  where'er  they  speed,  they  slay. 
 Their  deadly  might  is  in  their  mouth  and  tail ; 
 What  force  or  art  against  it  can  avail  ? 
 Terror  before  them,  Pestilence  behind  ! 
 — Yet  those  who  'scape  them,  blasphemous  and  blind, 
 Learn  not  repentance  5  nor,  midst  all,  disown 
 The  worshipp'd  forms  of  silver,  wood,  and  stone, 
 
 } 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  15 
 
 Their  saints,  or  demons,  deified  !   nor  leave 
 Their  sorceries  that,  for  miracles,  deceive ; 
 Nor  cease  their  murderous  persecutions,  aw'd, 
 Mysteries  impure,  or  avaricious  fraud  ! 
 
 +■***+++•**■**+++ 
 
 Now,  History,  come  ;  present  thy  faithful  glass  ; 
 Mirror  the  plagues  of  Prophecy  that  pass  ! 
 Point  where  the  Turks,  when  wild  crusades  no  more 
 Repress  their  daring,  from  Euphrates  pour 
 The  might  of  four  proud  sultanies  ;  outdone 
 All  the  supplanted  Saracens  begun. 
 The  period  of  their  rising,  spreading  power, 
 Mark'd  in  prophetic  style  ;   the  year,  month,  day,  and 
 
 hour. 
 Their  cavalry,  a  many-colour' d  cloud  5 
 Their  new-devis'd  artillery,  thundering  loud, 
 And  belching  fire  ; — I  see,  I  hear  it  all ! 
 Till,  Constantine,  thy  second  Rome  must  fall. 
 Now,  first,  those  hell- wrought  tubes  of  death  ctevour  -} 
 Monsters,  whose  mouth  and  tail  compose  their  power  ! 
 — Yet,  unadmonish'd  by  these  eastern  woes, 
 The  western  sister  no  repentance  knows, 
 But  plies  her  arts  accurst,  till  heaven  shall  rouse  her 
 foes. 
 
 } 
 
16  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 THE  LITTLE  BOOK. 
 
 *  Here,  as  I  gaz'd,  a  peerless  angel  spann'd, 
 With  sovereign  stride,  the  ocean  and  the  land  : 
 A  cloudy  veil  his  dazzling  form  overspread  j 
 c  His  crown  a  rainbow,  and  a  sun  his  head  V 
 A  small,  unfolded  roll  His  right  hand  bore : 
 His  thrilling  voice  was  like  the  lion's  roar : 
 Seven  thunders,  at  that  voice,  their  silence  broke  : 
 "  Seal,"  he  exclaim'd,  "  whate'er  those  thunders  spoke  ! 
 Seal  it  as  yet,  nor  in  thy  page  rehearse  !" 
 —Then,  by  the  God  that  made  the  universe, 
 Lifting  to  heaven  his  kingly  hand,  lie  swore 
 (I  hear  him  yet)  that  Time  shall  be  no  more  ! 
 Soon  as  the  seventh  angelic  trumpet  blows, 
 God's  whole  consummate  mystery  shall  close  : 
 He,  by  His  elder  seers,  the  glorious  end  foreshows. 
 — Here,  from  that  angel's  hand,  I  trembling  took 
 (So  was  I  bade)  the  small  unfolded  book ; 
 I  took,  I  ate  it :  to  my  lips,  the  scroll 
 Was  honey  3  wormwood,  to  the  secret  soul. 
 Pleasant,  awhile,  its  wonderous  scenes  to  know ) 
 But  bitter,  soon,  to  ruminate  their  woe. 
 — "  Now  go  !"  he  said ;  "  thy  Prophecy  resound, 
 Once- more,  to  nations,  kings,  to  earth's  remotest  bound V 
 
 s.t-J 
 
 Oh,  for  a  hand  to  mark  the  wildering  maze 
 I  yet  must  pass,  and  clear  my  clouded  gaze  ! 
 
 *  Ca.  x.  t  Dan,  xii.  6—13. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  17 
 
 Smooth  was  the  path,  while  travelling  o'er  the  past ; 
 History  on  Prophecy  her  radiance  cast : 
 But  soon.  Futurity,  I  pierce  thy  glooms, 
 Where  no  historic  lamp  my  steps  illumes. 
 Lo,  how  the  guides,  now  baffled,  disagree  !  -v 
 
 Such  mists  of  doubt  envelop  all  to  be  5  > 
 
 So  partially  we  know,  so  dimly  forward  see  !  J 
 
 The  vision's  self  is,  like  the  future,  seal'd, 
 Till  in  the'  event  the  portrait  shines  reveal'd. 
 So,  by  the  moon's  faint  light,  we  scarce  descry 
 Forms,  which  the  sun  gives  obvious  to  the  eye  ; 
 Trees  are  as  men,  and  men  as  trees  :  we  grope  -x 
 
 Our  shadowy  way,  and  check  despair  with  hope,  > 
 
 Devious  and  doubtful  j   till  the  day-spring  ope.  J 
 
 ///#////////// 
 
 1  "  Measure  the  temple  now  !"  the  angel  cried  -, 
 And  straight  a  reed  for  measurement  supplied  : 
 w  Mete  but  the  holier  part ! — the  circling  court, 
 Where  crowds  of  Gentile  worshippers  resort, 
 Leave  all  unmeasurd  ! — since,  by  pagans  trod, 
 Too  long  must  mourn  the  city  of  our  God. 
 Mark  what  a  tract  of  dolorous  length  I  fix ; 
 Months,  of  prophetic  style,  thrice  twelve  and  six  : 
 Or  thus  in  mystic  days  that  term  explore, 
 (Each  day  a  year,) — twelve  hundred  and  threescore. 
 Far  as  that  melancholy  tract  shall  reach, 
 My  witnesses,  these  twain,  in  sackcloth  preach  : 
 
 •  Ch.  xL 
 
18  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 These,  as  the  two  fair  olive-trees,  record ;  -^ 
 
 These,  the  pair'd  lamps  that  burn  before  the  Lord  :     > 
 
 Such  antient  symbols  theirs,  in  His  prophetic  word.*^ 
 
 Great  power  have  they  with  heaven :  their  prayers  exhale 
 
 Fire  from  their  mouths,  when  baffled  foes  assail : 
 
 They,  like  the  Tishbite,  stay  the  genial  rain  ;t 
 
 The  streams,  like  Ainram's  son,  with  blood  they  stain,  J 
 
 Smiting  the  guilty  world  with  plagues  at  will : 
 
 — But,  when  their  destin'd  witness  they  fulfil, 
 
 A  murderous  monster  from  the'  infernal  realm 
 
 Rises,  to  war  against  them,  and  o'erwhelm. 
 
 So  must  those  martyrs,  vanquished  victors,  die  ! 
 
 So,  a  brief  season,  must  their  corpses  lie, 
 
 Crush'd  in  thy  street,  thou  city  vast  and  vile, 
 
 Sodom  or  Egypt  nam'd  in  mystic  style  ! 
 
 Murderess  of  Christ  Himself ! — The  sons  of  earth 
 
 Trample  their  sacred  dust  -,  and,  with  fell  mirth, 
 
 Shout  o'er  the  silenc'd  prophets,  who  so  long 
 
 Tortur'd  with  keen  reproofs  the  rebel  throng. 
 
 But  the  third  day  their  martyr'd  Lord  arose ; 
 
 Nor  the  third  year  shall  long  have  seen  its  close, 
 
 Ere  heaven  revisit  them  with  vital  breath ; 
 
 They  start  refulgent  from  their  transient  death  : 
 
 Beckon'd  aloft,  they  mount,  like  him  of  old,§ 
 
 Rapt  in  a  cloud :  their  foes,  abash'd,  behold. 
 
 In  that  bright  hour,  an  earthquake  rent  the  ground, 
 
 While  a  tenth  part  of  that  curst  city  found 
 
 *  Zech.  iv.  11—14.        + 1  Kings  xvii.  1.    James  v.  17.        i  Exod.  vii.  20. 
 $2  Kings  ii.  11.    Acts  i.  9. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  19 
 
 Its  fatal  shock  :   seven  thousand  fell  :   the  rest, 
 Aw'd  by  their  doom,  Thy  glory,  Lord,  confess'd. 
 
 Past  the  mid  woe  !   the  sixth  dread  signal  past  ! 
 Another  hastes  j  the  seventh,  the  final  blast  !"' 
 
 Hark,  as  it  sounds,  what  shouts  of  joy  record 
 Thy  kingdoms,  earth,  the  kingdom  of  the  Lord  ! 
 Hark,  how  all  heaven  pours,  jubilant,  the  strain  ; 
 "Thy  realm  for  ever  lasts,  Thine  own  Messiah's  reign 
 Blessings,  omnipotent  sole  God,  to  Thee, 
 Who  art,  and  wert,  and  ever  art  to  be  ! 
 Eternal  blessings  ! — Thou  hast  claim'd  Thy  throne  !  — 
 Thee  would  the  rebel  nations  dare  disown, 
 How  vainly  ! — Now  Thy  day  of  wrath  arrives  : 
 Day,  when  Thy  Church,  when  all  the  world,  revives  ! 
 "When  Thou,  enthroned  in  judgment,  glorious  Lord. 
 Ruin,  to  those  that  ruin'd,  wilt  accord  ; 
 To  martyrs,  prophets,  saints,  their  infinite  reward  !" 
 Lo,  thunders,  lightnings,  mix'd  with  crashing  hail. 
 Usher  the  last  great  scene  !     The  temple's  veil 
 Is  rent ;  the  mystic  ark  no  more  conceal'd  : 
 And  all  the'  interior  sanctuary  reveal'd. 
 
 } 
 
 *  +•***++>++■**' 
 
 Now  those  two  mourning  witnesses  explore  : 
 Those  number'd  years, — twelve  hundred  and  threescore  : 
 Measure  the  sanctuary,  whose  court  is  trod 
 By  pagans  :   measure  with  historic  rod  :  | 
 
 Trace,  through  her  long  eclipse,  the  glimmering  Church  | 
 of  God  c  2  ■* 
 
20  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Late  hast  thou  seen  her  oriental  woes  ; 
 This  little  roll,  well  interpos'd,  foreshows, 
 Through  the  same  gloomy  term,  her  western  fate  j 
 Till  the  seventh  trump  announce  her  last,  her  happiest 
 
 state. 
 While  Saracens,  while  Turks,  profane  their  East  y 
 Lo,  westward  scowls  that  hell-born  papal  beast ! 
 At  once  they  rise  i  from  that  curst  day  I  mark 
 The  sackcloth  pair,  the  cycle  drear  and  dark. 
 — Oh  History  !  why,  so  watchful  to  record 
 All  crimes,  corruptions,  cruelties  abhorr'd, — 
 So  silent  here } — Yet,  joyous,  we  descry 
 Some  scatter'd  stars  amidst  the'  o'erclouded  sky. 
 Two  witnesses  the  law  prescrib'd  :  we  view 
 Two  witnesses  for  heaven, — enough,  tho'  few  : 
 These  are  the  little  flock,  amidst  a  wolf-like  crew  -, 
 The  sacred  lamps,  unquench'd  in  coldest  gloom ; 
 The  bush,  still  burning,  which  no  flames  consume. 
 
 Bear  witness,  in  your  sackcloth,  ye  that  bled 
 By  myriads,  or  to  glens  and  mountains  fled ; 
 Ye  poor  Waldenses  !  veterans,  ne'er  subdued  ! 
 Survivors  of  the  race  before  the  flood  I 
 (That  flood  of  guilt  and  error,  doom'd  to'  o'erwhelm^ 
 Age  after  age,  the  Church's  western  realm  :) 
 With  sacred  charm,  your  wild  retreats  I  trod, 
 Y'e  venerable  champions  of  our  God  ! 
 — Talk  they,  fair  Athens,  of  thy  hallow' d  ground  ? 
 Here  nobler  inspiration  breathes  around  !— 
 Martyrs  of  Albi,  too,  that,  meekly  bold, 
 Triumph'd  in  suffering  ! — ye,  Bohemians  old, 
 
 } 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  21 
 
 Link'd  with  Moravians,  whose  transmitted  name, 
 And  faith,  and  lamb-like  spirit,  lives  the  same 
 In  filial  "  Brethren,"  still  through  later  time 
 u  United,"  though  dispersed  in  German  clime, 
 And  native  England  j  where  their  northern  vale 
 My  boyhood  nurs'd  j — Moravian  Fulnec,  hail  ! — 
 Nor  polar  Greenland,  nor  parch' d  Afric's  cape, 
 Their  love's  unwearied  energy  escape. 
 
 Pleas'd,  from  afar  your  names  I  here  survey. 
 As  through  deep  shades  they  dart  a  beauteous  ray. 
 Ye  tuneful  morning-stars  of  Mind's  returning  day, 
 Dante,  Petrarca  !  since  ye  dar'd  record 
 Rome,  papal  Rome  the  Babylon  abhorr'd. 
 And  you,  ye  dreadless  warriors,  arm'd  with  light, 
 Wickliffand  Huss,  that  chas'd  incumbent  night  ! 
 And  thou,  immortal  Luther,  uith  thy  host 
 Of  heroes,  (each  his  country's  brightest  boast.) 
 A  host  thyself! — ye,  too,  that  since  have  stood 
 Firm  againt  Rome,  and  writ  your  faith  in  blood  ! 
 
 Nor  ah,  as  yet,  (though  martyrs  bleed  no  more,) 
 The  lingering  gloom  of  prophecy  is  o'er  : 
 Wears  not  the  Church  her  sackcloth  mantle  still  • 
 Waits  she  not  yet  her  witness  to  fulfil  ? 
 Yet  to  be  sternly  silenc'd  by  her  foes, — 
 ^Till  sufferings,  brief  though  keen,  her  trial  close  \ 
 Then,  while  the  papal  monster  pines  and  dies, 
 She  from  her  transient  death  shall  glorious  rise , 
 
 } 
 
22  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 While  o'er  her  foes  judicial  thunders  brood, 
 Her  temple,  long  defac  d,  shall  shine  renew' d ; 
 And, — every  nation  to  Messiah  given, —    - 
 The  brightening  earth  shall  vanish  into  heaven  ! 
 
 PART  II. 
 THE  WOMAN  AND  THE  DRAGON. 
 
 *  Just  here,  methought,  the  wonderous  visions  clos'd  j 
 When,  as  in  musing  silence  I  repos'd, 
 Crown'd  with  twelve  stars  a  woman  I  behold, 
 Rob'd  with  the  sun,  the  moon  beneath  her  roli'd  : 
 Ripe  for  the  birth,  she  groan'd  in  labouring  pangs  : 
 Lo,  a  new  wonder  $  with  wide-yawning  fangs 
 A  huge  red  dragon,  eager  to  devour 
 Her  hapless  offspring,  in  its  natal  hour ! 
 Seven  heads  the  monster  bore,  and  each  was  crown'd  5 
 Ten  clustering  horns  rose  germinant  around. 
 His  tail  a  third  part  of  the  stars  had  hurl'd 
 From  heaven  to  earth,  and  half  o'erwhelm'd  the  world. 
 
 What  means  the  vision  ? — soon  it  meets  my  search 
 Rob'd  with  her  heavenly  sun,  I  view  the  Church  : 
 That  twelve-fold  crown,  her  apostolic  wreath  5 
 She  leaves  the  low  sublunar  world  beneath. 
 
 ♦  Ch.  xii. 
 
} 
 
 THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  23 
 
 — What  hideous  form  scares  her  averted  eyes  ? 
 
 'Tis  Satan,  in  imperial  Rome's  disguise, 
 
 Whose  antient  sevenfold  government  at  last 
 
 Into  ten  fragmentary  states  is  cast. 
 
 A  third  part  of  the  nations  own  her  power ; 
 
 And,  Herod-like,  she  hastens  to  devour* 
 
 The  promis'd  seed. — Assail'd  with  hostile  scorn,         ^ 
 
 Behold,  the  child  is  given,  the  son  is  born  5  > 
 
 Vigorous  in  infancy,  nor  midst  his  foes  forlorn.  J 
 
 'Tis  bis,  the  dragon's  head  beneath  him  trod, 
 
 To  rule  the  nations  with  resistless  rod,t 
 
 And  rise,  triumphant,  to  the  throne  of  God  : 
 
 Who  but  the  world's  great  Shepherd  3  He  that  rose, 
 
 First-born  of  countless  brethren,  o'er  His  foes 
 
 To  claim  the  glorious  empire  all  His  own, 
 
 And  with  His  people  reign,  assessors  of  His  throne ! 
 
 — But  see  the  woman,  to  the  desert  rled  -,\ 
 
 There,  in  her  place  appointed,  to  be  fed 
 
 (E'en  as  that  raven-nurtur'd  seer  of  yore) 
 
 Prophetic  days,  twelve  hundred  and  threescore  : 
 
 Or  see  the  Church,  in  her  afflicted  state, 
 
 Mark'd  by  those  sackcloth  witnesses  of  late. 
 
 War,  war  in  heaven  !     'Gainst  Michael  and  his  might 
 The  dragon  and  his  host  wage  desperate  fight, 
 Desperate,  and  vain.     Their  place  in  heaven,  as  erst, 
 Knows  them  no  more  j  quell'd,  banish'd,  and  accurst ! 
 And  hark,  that  shout ; — "The'  infernal  monster  slain. 
 Salvation  !  God  and  His  Messiah  reign  ! 
 
 •  Ps.  ii.  9.     Rev.  ii.  27.        f  Mitt  ii.  16.  comp.  Ex.  i.  1C.     :  Malt.  ii.  13. 
 
24  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 He  that  deceiv'd  the  nations,  and  accus'd 
 The  brethren, — now  his  serpent  head  is  bruis'd  ! 
 Strong  in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  His  word, 
 They  fought  the  foe,  nor  e'en  their  life  preferr'd, 
 Dying  to  conquer  ! — Joy,  ye  heavens  !  but  woe, 
 Woe  to  the  inhabitants  of  earth  below  ! 
 For  the  fell  dragon,  in  his  vengeful  ire, 
 Comes  down,  ere  yet  his  fated  term  expire  !" 
 
 That  vengeful  ire  too  soon  the  woman  knew  3 
 And,  plum'd  by  heaven  with  eagle  wings,  she  flew 
 Where  in  the  desert  heaven  prepaid  her  seat  *, 
 There  to  be  hid,  there  nurtur'd,  in  retreat, 
 '  A  time,  and  times,  and  half  a  time.'     Explore 
 That  mystic  period,  by  prophetic  lore ; 
 In  years,  it  spells — twelve  hundred  and  threescore. 
 Not  so  she  scap'd  the  serpent  5  he  pursued  } 
 And,  fain  to  o'erwhelm  her  in  her  solitude, 
 Disgorg'd  a  flood.     Past  hope,  the  softening  ground 
 Drank  the  fierce  torrents,  as  they  rush'd  around, 
 (A heaven-sent  aid)  and  help'd  her  in  her  need. 
 But  still  against  the  remnant  of  her  seed, 
 The  faithful  midst  the  false, — her  foe  enrag'd 
 Muster'd  fresh  force,  and  deadlier  warfare  wag  d. 
 
 } 
 
 **+*■*+**■**••?+>*+ 
 
 Thine  answering  voice,  oh  History,  I  hear  5 
 I  see  thine  images  reflected  clear. 
 Christ  and  His  saints  urge  that  victorious  fight 
 Gainst  falling  Satan  and  his  pagan  might. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  25 
 
 Lo,  eagle-like  the  Church  still  upward  springs, 
 Borne  on  the  parted  empire's  shadowing  wings, 
 Eastward  and  West.     Lo,  from  the  North  descend 
 Floods  of  barbarian  foes  ;  and  Satan  hopes  her  end; 
 But  hopes  in  vain  :  they  quench  the  Roman  rage, 
 And  spare  that  Church,  reserv'd,  through  many  an  age, 
 To  dwell  as  in  the  desert  of  her  woe, 
 And  bear  long  conflict  with  her  baleful  foe. 
 
 *■*■+**** 
 
 THE  TEN-HORNED  AND  THE  TWO-HORNED 
 BEAST. 
 
 *  My  vision  chang'd :  methought  I  trod  the  verge 
 Of  ocean,  and,  from  out  its  heaving  surge, 
 Awe-struck  beheld  a  monstrous  form  emerge  : 
 Ten  clustering  horns,  ten  kingly  crowns  he  wore  : 
 His  sevenfold  head  inscrib'd  with  blasphemy  all  o'er. 
 The  form  was  leopard-like  ;  the  feet  a  bear's  ; 
 The  ravening  mouth,  like  the  grim  lion,  glares. 
 That  huge  red  dragon  gave  him  to  display 
 Imperial  splendour,  and  extended  sway. 
 Gash'd  with  a  fatal  wound,  his  topmost  head 
 Seem'd,  as  I  gaz'd,  reviving  from  the  dead. 
 The  nations  watch' d  and  worshipped,  all  amaz'd, 
 The  dragon,  and  the  monster  he  had  rais'd  : 
 And  who  (they  cried)  is  like  that  monster  ?  who 
 Shall  dare  resist  him,  or  his  power  subdue  > 
 
 •  Cb.  xiii; 
 
 } 
 
26*  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Hark  how  he  lifts  his  impious  voice  on  high 
 
 In  swelling  words,  and  dauntless  blasphemy  ! 
 
 God,  nor  His  temple,  nor  His  name,  he  spares  ; 
 
 Nor  saints,  nor  angels,  mock'd  with  guilty  prayers  ! 
 
 Though  to  his  reign  its  boundary  heaven  shall  fix, 
 
 Months  of  symbolic  days,  thrice  twelve  and  six  $ 
 
 'Tis  given  him  long  the  groaning  Church  to'  assail, 
 
 And  o'er  the  passive  tribes  of  earth  prevail. 
 
 All  at  his  throne  idolatrously  bend, 
 
 All  but  the  Lamb's  elect :  yet,  yet  his  reign  shall  end  , 
 
 He,  too,  shall  bleed,  by  whom  the  martyrs  bled, 
 
 And  his  captivity  be  captive  led. 
 
 Hearken,  ye  suffering  saints ;  and  here,  oh  here, 
 
 Let  well-tried  faith  and  patience  most  appear  ! 
 
 Again,  with  History's  retrospective  glass, 
 Pause  we  to  mark  the  ten-crown'd  monster  pass. 
 Rome  !  'tis  thy  western  empire,  Christian  styl'd, 
 But,  in  that  name,  with  blasphemy  defil'd  ! 
 Ris'n  amidst  billowy  tumults  of  the  world, 
 (A  sea  of  nations  into  ruins  hurl'd  !) 
 Split  to  ten  kingdoms ;  and,  in  power  accurs'd. 
 Resembling  those  terrific  monsters,  erst 
 By  Daniel  us'd  to  paint  those  elder  realms 
 Which  Rome,  with  her  unwieldy  weight,  o'erwhelms. 
 Satan  had  rear'd  her  in  her  pagan  pride  $ 
 And,  when  her  old  imperial  title  died, 
 He  heal'd  the  death-blow  5  and,  in  Charlemagne, 
 Bade  the  crush'd  empire  wake  to  life  again. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  27 
 
 Or  deem  we  that  she  felt  the  mortal  stroke, 
 
 When  her  proud  neck  first  wore  the  Christian  yoke  ? 
 
 And  was  the  transient,  seeming  death-blow  heal'd, 
 
 When  papal  despotism  usurp' d  the  field  ? 
 
 Lo,  while  she  mocks  the  majesty  of  God, 
 
 How  vassal  nations  tremble  at  her  nod, 
 
 How  groans  the  Church  beneath  her  ruthless  rod ! 
 
 Yet  shall  that  long  predestin'd  period  close 
 
 Her  guilty  reign,  and  bring  the  saints  repose. 
 
 +*  *  *  **■+**■*+****■ 
 
 } 
 
 Now  mark  yon  second  monster  !  mark  his  birth, 
 Silent  and  stealing,  as  a  plant,  from  earth  ! 
 Lamb-like  his  aspect,  with  a  twofold  horn  ; 
 But  dragon-like  his  tongue  of  wrath  and  scorn. 
 His,  the  first  monster's  massive  might  to  wield, 
 And  bid  the  prostrate  nations  homage  yield. 
 His,  to  display  mock  miracles,  and  call 
 Fire  from  •the  clouds,  amidst  the  gaze  of  all ; 
 '  False  prophet,'*  imitating  in  his  fraud 
 The  Tishbite  seer.     The  nations,  lur'd  and  aw'd, 
 Fashion  an  image  for  the  beast,  whose  head, 
 Gash'd  in  its  topmost  crown,  had  ris'n  as  from  the  dead. 
 He  gives  that  monster's  image  life  and  breath, 
 Utterance  and  power 5  and  menaces  with  death 
 All  that  refuse  prostration  at  its  throne, 
 Nor  deify  a  creature  of  their  own  ! 
 All,  of  all  ranks,  must  wear  that  monster's  brand, 
 Like  brutes  or  bond-slaves,  in  their  brow  and  hand 
 
 ♦  Ch.  xvi.  13. 
 D 
 
28  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 All  are  shut  out  from  commerce,  who  disclaim 
 His  tyrant  mark,  his  number,  and  his  name. 
 Here,  here  is  wisdom  :  if  thou  hast  it,  scan 
 The  monster's  name,  the  number  of  a  man  : 
 Mysterious  name,  whose  added  letters  fix 
 The  sum,  six  hundred,  six  times  ten,  and  six. 
 
 And  who  is  here  }  this  second  monster,  who  ? 
 In  him,  the  Romish  hierarchy  we  view. 
 Her  name  and  semblance  is  the  Lamb's  :  her  birth, 
 Noiseless  and  gradual,  as  a  plant's  from  earth. 
 But  dragon-like  her  utterance,  like  the  beast's  j 
 Two-fold  her  horn,— her  two-fold  class  of  priests. 
 Her  fiery  fulminations  on  her  foes, 
 Her  frauds  and  lying  wonders, — who  but  knows  ? 
 Imperial  sway,  reviv'd  as  from  the  dead, 
 She  wields  3   and  frames  an  idol  for  her  head  : 
 Who,  but  the  papal  tyrant,  meets  our  search  ? 
 At  once  the  God  and  creature  of  bis  Church  ! 
 All  must  endure  death,  banishment,  or  loss, 
 Who  dare  disclaim  her  sacrilegious  cross. 
 — Would'st  thou  expound  her  enigmatic  name  ? 
 Number'd  in  Greek,  Lateinos  is  the  same  : 
 It  points  her  man,  her  worship,  and  her  realms ; 
 Its  numerals  prove  (the  wonderous  proof  o'erwhelms) 
 The  sum,  six  hundred,  six  times  ten,  and  six  j 
 Where,  papal  Rome,  thy  growth  mature  we  fix. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  29 
 
 THE  LAMB  ON  MOUNT  SION. 
 
 *  Long  have  dark  clouds  the  mystic  scene  o'ercast : 
 Sweet  streaks  of  sunrise  dimly  dawn  at  last. 
 
 I  look'd,  and  lo,  a  Lamb,  as  newly  slain, 
 — Amidst  the  tens  of  thousands  in  his  train, 
 Seal'd  in  their  foreheads  with  His  Father's  name, — 
 Stood  on  Mount  Sion.     Hark,  their  glad  acclaim  ! 
 Loud  as  the  voice  of  rushing  waters  round, 
 Or  mighty  thunders  in  their  far-felt  sound ; 
 Yet  sweet  as  countless  harpers  !     Theirs  a  song 
 New,  and  known  only  by  that  hallow'd  throng, 
 Sung  at  the  throne  of  God.     For  these  are  they, 
 Virgins  of  Christ,  who,  where  He  points  the  way, 
 Faithful  pursue,  nor  other  lord  obey  ; 
 Guileless  in  act,  in  spirit,  and  in  word  j 
 Redeem'd  from  earth,  its  first-fruits  to  the  Lord. 
 
 Twas  here  a  hastening  angel  caught  my  sight, 
 Bearing  the*  eternal  gospel  in  his  flight 
 Through  the  mid  heaven,  to  sound  it  far  and  wide, 
 Where'er  earth's  many-languag'd  sons  reside. 
 u  Fear  God  !"  he  cried  j   "  give  glory  to  the  Power 
 That  made  the  world  !   for  lo,  His  judgment-hour  !" 
 — Hark,  the  next  herald  : — "From  her  high  estate, 
 Fall'n,  fall'n  is  Babylon,  the  gay,  the  great ; 
 
 } 
 
30  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 She  that  allur'd  the'  inebriate  tribes  to  drink 
 Her  wine  of  guilt  and  wrath,  on  ruin's  brink  !" 
 — Scarce  has  he  ceas'd  j  his  follower  calls  aloud  5 
 "  Whoe'er  pays  homage  to  that  monster  proud, 
 Lamb-like  in  show  ;  before  his  image  bows  3 
 And  bears  the  mystic  brand  upon  his  brows  5 
 Shall  drain  the  dregs  of  heaven's  unmingled  ire, 
 Hurl'd,  before  angels,  into  sulphurous  fire  ! 
 The  smoke  of  that  fierce  torture  still  ascends  ; 
 Nor  day,  nor  night,  the  restless  anguish  ends  ! 
 Here,  in  their  patience  shine  the  saints  !  here  shine 
 Who  keep  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  love  the  law  divine  !' 
 Hark,  an  emphatic  voice  from  heaven  -,-^-"  record 
 The  precious  truth  !  'tis  utter'd  by  the  Lord : 
 Blessed  the  dead,  who  safe  in  Him  repose ; 
 Their  works  attend  them,  resting  from. their  woes  1" 
 
 Scan  we  the'  advancing  vision.     Late,  with  awe, 
 The  rising  form  of  Antichrist  I  saw  : 
 Now,  amidst  papal  errors  lingering  night, 
 See  the  slow,  struggling  dawn  of  gospel  light ! 
 The  Lamb  begirt  with  thousands  !  see  Him  stand, 
 Lord  of  the  Church,  amidst  His  faithful  band, 
 E'en  in  the  dreartest  age  !  the  first-fruits,  lo, 
 Of  the  rich  harvest,  yet  reserv'd  to  grow  ! 
 How  pure,  how  lovely,  midst  a  Church  how  vile,        ^ 
 They  sing  their  own  sweet  song ! — nor  serpent  guile,  > 
 Nor  foul  desire,  their  virgin  souls  defile.  ^ 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  31 
 
 — Mark,  too,  those  angels  brightening  midst  the  storm  j 
 
 Symbolic  heralds  of  the  great  reform  ! 
 
 Foremost,  the  faithful  Vaudois  dare  proclaim, 
 
 Against  idolatry,  the*  Eternal  name  : 
 
 Next,  at  Bohemian  Huss  and  Jerome's  call, 
 
 A  bolder  legion  antedate  thy  fall, 
 
 Foul  Babylon  ! — till  Luther's  dauntless  train 
 
 Reverberate  back  thy  thunders  with  disdain ; 
 
 All  that  retain  thy  mark,  denounce  accurs'd  j 
 
 And, — purgatory's  hideous  dream  dispers'd, — 
 
 Bid,  on  the  dying  saint,  immediate  glory  burst. 
 
 THE  HARVEST  AND  THE  VINTAGE. 
 
 Such  was  the  cheering  vision :  soon  succeed 
 Scenes  of  mysterious  awe,  which  who  shall  read  ? 
 Here,  where  our  own  eventful  age  draws  near. 
 Dim  and  more  dim  the  shadowy  views  appear  : 
 Tis  Prophecy  unbodied  and  unborn  : 
 The  prospect  glimmers  in  the  twilight  morn  : 
 All,  as  in  mist,  and  undefin'd,  we  see ; 
 It  wants  the  seal  of  warm  reality. 
 Yet,  to  its  close  we'll  trace  the'  unfinished  plan. 
 — Lo,  yon  white  cloud  ;  and,  like  the  Son  of  man, 
 Yon  glorious  form  there  seated,  crown'd  with  gold  : 
 A  keen  bright  sickle  in  his  right  behold  : 
 And  hear  yon  angel  from  the  temple  cry  ; 
 "Earth's  harvest-hour  is  come  j  thy  sidtk  ply  ' 
 d2 
 
 } 
 
32  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 He  heard ;  amidst  the  billowy  harvest  steep'd 
 His  sickle  -,  and  the  rich,  ripe  earth  was  reap'd. 
 — Scarce  had  he  pass'd ;  a  second  met  my  sight ; 
 He  also  arm'd  with  sickle  keen  and  bright : 
 One  from  the  altar  brought  him  fire  -,  and  "look," 
 He  call'd,  "earth's  vintage  asks  thy  reaping-hook  ! 
 Gather  the  grapes,  ripe-clustering  !"— At  his  word, 
 That  reaper  seiz'd  his  sickle,  nor  deferred  : 
 Gathering  the  grapes,  he  cast  them  to  be  trod 
 In  the  great  wine-^ress  of  the  wrath  of  God, 
 Without  the  city.— From  that  wine-press  flood 
 E'en  to  the  chargers1  nostrils  rose  the  blood ; 
 Nor  less  than  twice  three  hundred  furlongs  span 
 The  tract,  o'er  which  the  gory  deluge  ran  ! 
 
 '  A  Harvest,  and  a  Vintage, — what  are  these  ? 
 Scenes  of  dismay  my  prying  fancy  sees, 
 Hovering  o'er  Babylon ! — The  Harvest,  first : 
 What  means  it,  but  that  ten-horn'd  monster  curst, 
 Rome's  papal  empire,  in  her  ripe  offence, 
 Reap'd  by  Thy  sword,  avenging  Providence  ? 
 Unless  we  fitlier  deem  each  pagan  land 
 White  for  the  missionary  reaper's  hand. 
 
 The  Vintage,  as  in  autumn,  soon  succeeds : 
 Err  we,  or  soon  the  two-hom'd  emblem  bleeds  ? 
 Rome's  papal  Church, — prophetic  Sodom's  vine  5 
 Her  clusters,  gall ;  death-poison,  all  her  wine  5 
 
THE    VISIONS     OF    PATMOS.  33 
 
 Ripe  in  heaven's  wrathful  wine-press  to  be  trod 
 Apart,  without  the  city  of  our  God. 
 A  dire  destruction  !  where,  methinks,  I  see, 
 Trampling  a  sea  of  blood,  the  heaven-sent  cavalry  ! 
 Whether  in  Palestine  that  fatal  field 
 (None  else  than  Armageddon)  be  reveal' d  5 
 Or,  likelier  yet,  its  sanguine  horrors  whelm, 
 Devoted  Rome,  thy  hierarchal  realm  ! 
 For  lo,  the  prophet's  measure  marks  exact 
 Two  hundred  miles  the  length  of  either  tract. 
 Yet  wait :  let  Time,  let  Providence  explain  : 
 Wait  -,  and  perchance  some  glimmering  light  obtain     I 
 From  the  next  opening  scene  : — attend  the'  eventful  j 
 strain  ! 
 
 THE  SEVEN  VIALS. 
 
 *  Rapt  in  my  trance,  I  saw  a  strange  portent  5 
 Seven  angels,  on  dread  ministration  sent, 
 Each  with  his  golden  vial,  to  disclose 
 Heaven's  wrath,  consummate  in  the  seven  last  woes. 
 I  saw  a  sea  of  crystal  mix'd  with  fire ; 
 (Type  of  tranquillity  midst  judgments  dire) 
 Where  the  crush'd  monster's  foes,  a  countless  quire, 
 That  scorn  d  his  name,  his  mark,  and  image, — trod 
 And  triuraph'd,  harping  with  the  harps  of  God  ! 
 Hark ;  as  old  Israel,  midst  a  crystal  heapt 
 Of  billows,  march'd  along  the  passive  deep, 
 
 •  Ch.  *▼.  t  Exod.  xiv.  22.— xt.  1,  20. 
 
 } 
 
34  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Shouting  o'er  Egypt  and  her  Pharaoh  slain  ; 
 Hark,  how,  the  Lamb's  and  Moses'  blended  strain 
 Chanting,  their  nobler  triumph  these  record  ! 
 "  Hail,  King  of  saints  !  omnipotent  sole  Lord  ! 
 Wondrous  Thy  works,  and  righteous,  we  proclaim  : 
 Who  would  not  fear  Thee,  who  adore  Thy  name  ? 
 Thy  name,  thrice  holy,  hence  let  all  adore  ! 
 For  now  Thy  judgments  shine 5    Thy  foes  are  now  no 
 
 more !" 
 But  see,  heaven's  temple  opens  ! — rob'd  in  snow, 
 Girdled  with  gold,  those  seven  dread  angels  go  : 
 While,  issuing  from  the  Holiest,  aweful  gloom 
 Wraps  the  whole  sanctuary.     Let  none  presume 
 Rash  entrance,  till  those  vials  are  distill'd, 
 And  those  seven  wrathful  destinies  fulfiU'd. 
 
 *  Hark,  a  deep  voice :  <(  Go,  seven  stern  heralds,  go  ! 
 Pour  on  the  earth  your  cups  of  seven-fold  woe  !'; 
 — See,  on  the  land,  the  first  his  chalice  pour  ! 
 Its  dire  effusion  smites  with  noisome  sore 
 All  who  to  that  curst  monster's  image  bow, 
 And  bear  his  brand  upon  their  bond-slave  brow. 
 —Sea- ward  the  next  inverts  his  cup  :  the  flood 
 Turns,  at  its  gush,  a  death- like  mass  of  blood, 
 All  life  extinct ! — The  streams,  of  purple  glow, 
 Feel  and  confess  the  third  red  vial's  flow  : 
 And,  while  the  angel  of  the  waters  cries, 
 A  spirit  from  the  temple  thus  replies  ; 
 
 *  Ch.  xvi. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PA.TMOS.  35 
 
 "  Righteous  are  all  Thy  works,  eternal  God  ! 
 Well  hast  Thou  wrought !   they  merited  Thy  rod  ! 
 Blood  of  Thy  saints  and  seers  they  lavish'd  erst; 
 Well  hast  Thou  given  them  blood,  to  saturate  their 
 
 thirst  !" 
 — Thick,  fast,  and  fierce  they  follow.     On  the  sun, 
 Lo,  the  fourth  angel  bids  his  vial  run, 
 Scorching  the  guilty  tribes  with  fiery  glow  ; 
 While  at  the  dread  Dispenser  of  their  woe 
 The  sufferers  hurl  defiance,  nor  His  rod 
 Tremblingly  kiss,  nor  homage  pay  to  God. 
 — Stroke  upon  stroke,  like  Egypt's  plagues  of  yore  ! — 
 Mark  the  fifth  minister  of  vengeance  pour 
 His  baleful  cup,  full  on  the  monster's  throne  ! 
 How  deep  the  gloom  !  how  desolate  the  groan  ! 
 Frantic,  their  tongues  in  blasphemy  they  gnaw, 
 Nor,  midst  their  tortures,  learn  repentant  awe  ! 
 
 What  are  the  scenes  that  scare  my  shuddering  glance  ? 
 Is  it  thine  atheist  empire,  bloody  France  ? 
 Hath  History  yet  the  tearful  page  unroll'd  ? 
 — Xo  angel  comes,  the  dread  design  to'  unfold  ! 
 Yet,  through  the  mist,  methinks  I  dimly  see 
 Thy  horrors,  France  !   thy  tyrant  anarchy  j 
 Smiting  all  Christendom  with  noisome  sore  ; 
 Turning  (as  'twere)  the  sea,  the  streams,  to  gore  ; 
 Scorching  the  victim  nations  as  with  fire  : 
 I  see,  I  see, — by  heaven's  judicial  ire, — 
 Blaspheming  e'en  in  death,  the  papal  beast  expire  ! 
 
 } 
 
36  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 — Tis  dimness  all.     These  vials  yet  may  flow 
 Through  Daniel's  after-term  of  wrath  and  woe, 
 Those  number'd  years,  those  threescore,  ten,  and  five,*-^ 
 When  conquering  Michael  with  his  foes  shall  strive,    > 
 Till  the  last  age  of  Time,  the  blessed  reign;  arrive.      * 
 
 +*■****■***** •***s* 
 
 Now  the  sixth  angel  hastens  to  discharge 
 His  wrath-cup  on  the  proud  Euphrates*  marge  \ 
 Draining  (as  Cyrus  drain'd  in  elder  day) 
 That  flood,  to  ope  for  eastern  kings  a  way. 
 — Mysterious  emblem,  left  for  Time  to'  expound  : 
 Whether,  invaded  at  its  eastern  bound, 
 'Tis  Roman  Babylon,  in  ruin  cast  5 
 Or  that  the  Turkish  woe  (which  at  the  blast 
 Of  the  sixth  trumpet  open'd  erst,  when  rose 
 The  horsemen  of  Euphrates)  finds  its  close  5 
 Nor  yet,  Euphrates,  art  thou  drain'd,  for  lo, 
 The  Church,  still  weltering  in  that  Turkish  woe  : 
 Whether,  Mahommed  fall'n,  the  royal  band 
 Of  Israel  re-assert  their  long-lost  land ; 
 Or  orient  princes,  like  the  Magi,  bring 
 Their  hallow' d  treasures  to  their  Saviour  King. 
 
 Is  the  sixth  vial  spent  ?     Not  yet.     I  saw, 
 Forth  from  that  old  infernal  dragon's  maw, 
 
 >Dan.  xii.  1,7,11, 1%. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  6/ 
 
 Forth  from  the'  imperial  monster's  mouth  of  scorn, 
 
 And  thine,  false  prophet,  lamb  with  two-fold  horn, — 
 
 Saw  the  foul  spawn  of  Antichrist  proceed, 
 
 Three  loathsome  spirits,  like  the  croaking  breed 
 
 That  swarm'd  o'er  Egypt  j  spirits,  loos'd  from  hell, 
 
 Working  their  lying  wonders,  to  compel 
 
 The  kings  of  earth  to  that  great  battle-day, 
 
 When  God  Himself  marshals  the  dread  affray 
 
 At  Armageddon,  (such  in  Hebrew  styl'd) 
 
 Field  of  His  foes,  in  one  grand  burial  pil'd  ! 
 
 — There,  papal  fraud,  arm'd  with  imperial  might, 
 
 Each  by  infernal  malice  urg'd, — unite 
 
 In  one  vast  enterprise  'gainst  heaven,  whose  call 
 
 Musters  the'  unconscious  host,  to  meet- their  final  fall  ! 
 
 — Swift,  silent,  like  a  thief,  I  come  !   beware  ! 
 
 Happy,  who  'gainst  that  dreadful  hour  prepare  ! 
 
 Like  priests  unslumbering  in  their  night-watch  dress, 
 
 Lest  foul  surprisal  shame  their  nakedness  ! 
 
 See,  brimm'd  with  wrath,  the  seventh  last  vial  run 
 O'er  the  whole  air  !   and  hark,  the  shout,  "  'Tis  done  !" 
 Lo,  thunders,  lightnings,  voices,  and  the  shock 
 Of  a  huge  earthquake,  bid  the  nations  rock* 
 Through  all  their  cities  ! — Midst  the  general  groan, 
 Split  in  three  parts,  the  mighty  Babylon 
 Comes  before  God  for  visitation  dire, 
 And  drains  the  wine-dregs  of  His  fiercest  ire  ! 
 Fled  is  each  isle  j  the  mountains  are  not  found : 
 The  strong  convulsion  changes  all  around  ! 
 
 •Comp.  ch.  xi.  13,  19. 
 
38  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Cast  by  the  Lord,  portentous  hail-stones  rush'd, 
 
 As  erst  on  Egypt,  and  the  rebels  crush' d : 
 
 Yet,  in  their  doom  impenitent,  they  curs' d 
 
 The  Power,  whose  righteous  terrors  o'er  them  burst. 
 
 THE  FALL  OF  BABYLON. 
 
 ,} 
 
 *An  angel  here,  whose  radiance,  as  he  pass'd, 
 A  bright  horizon  far  around  him  cast, 
 Lighted  from  heaven,  thus  triumphing  aloud  : — 
 
 "  Fall'n  is  that  city,  profligate  and  proud  ! 
 Fall'n  from  her  high  estate 
 Is  Babylon  the  Great  ! 
 Fall'n  with  her  antient  type,  the  sister  of  her  fate 
 Deep  in  the  dust  her  towering  head  is  bow'd ! 
 
 She,  whose  glory  fill'd  the  world, 
 
 Now  to  the'  abyss  of  ruin  hurl'd  ! 
 
 She,  to  whom  the  kings  would  bow, 
 
 Become  the  haunt  of  horror  now  ! 
 
 The  den  of  spirits  fierce  and  foul ! 
 
 Where  serpents  hiss,  hyaenas  howl  5 
 Where  grisly  satyrs  dance,  where  shrieks  the  doleful 
 owl! 
 
 She,  with  her  adulterous  charms, 
 
 Lur'd  the  nations  to  her  arms  : 
 
 *  Ch.  xviii. 
 
 efulj 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  39 
 
 In  purple  harlotry  array'd, 
 Her  gold,  her  jewels,  she  display' d  ; 
 And  bade  the  victims,  from  her  glistering  bowl, 
 Drink  in  delicious  death,  with  fond  inebriate  soul : 
 While  from  her  lap,  with  gay  profusion  stor'd, 
 Wealth  on  commercial  avarice  she  pour'd. 
 
 Hark  to  that  solemn  call ! 
 "  Haste  ye,  My  people  !  from  that  Sodom  haste  !* 
 Lest  into  kindred  guilt  ye  fall, 
 
 Lest  of  like  plagues  ye  taste  I" 
 For  heavenward,  lo,  her  mountain  trespass  climbs, 
 Aud  God  hath  register' d  her  crimes. 
 High  though  she  nll'd  the  cup  of  ill 
 For  others  5 — hers  yet  higher  nil ! 
 And,  by  her  zenith  of  departed  pleasure, 
 Her  depth  of  shame,  her  sad  transition,  measure ! 
 — What  though,  disdainful  of  her  widow' d  fate, 
 She  boast  her  queen-like  state  ! 
 Sudden,  beneath  her  day  of  doom, 
 
 She  sinks  in  death-like  gloom  ! 
 
 Sudden,  the  scepter  d  lords  of  earth, 
 
 That  woo'd  her  wantonness  ere  while, 
 
 To  mourning  turn  their  guilty  mirth, 
 
 Scar'd  by  the  sulphur  of  her  funeral  pile  ! 
 
 In  speechless  pale  amaze, 
 Like  men  that  view  their  city  in  a  blaze, 
 At  shuddering  distance,  lo,  they  gaze  ! 
 
 } 
 
 *  Comp.  Isai.  xlviii.  20.— lii,  11 
 E 
 
40  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 No  more  her  streets  with  crowded  commerce  smile : 
 Her  merchants  weep  :  no  more  the  stranger  buys 
 Her  various  merchandize. 
 
 Who  shall  that  merchandize  unfold  ? 
 Purples,  and  pearls,  and  silks,  and  gems,  and  gold  ! 
 Vessels  of  every  form  and  substance  known  ; 
 Pure  ivory,  fragrant  cedar,  Parian  stone  ! 
 
 Each  incense,  ointment,  odour  sweet  5 
 
 The  prime  of  olives,  vines,  and  wheat ! 
 Steeds,  chariots,  herds,  and  flocks ! — and  then,  oh  then, 
 
 The  bodies,  and  the  souls,  of  men  ! 
 
 Tis  gone, — whate'er  mov'd  wonder  or  desire  ! 
 And,  as  of  yore  they  wail'd  o'er  prostrate  Tyre,* 
 Her  countless  seamen  pour  the  loud  lament, 
 (Their  eyes  with  tears,  their  heads  with  dust  besprent,) 
 cc  Woe,  woe,  for  her,  the  great,  the  gay  ! 
 Ah,  who  was  like  her  in  her  day  ? 
 Her,  who  her  merchant  sons  enrich'd ! 
 Her,  who  the'  adoring  world  bewitch'd  ! 
 How,  as  in  one  brief  hour,  her  all  is  pass'd  away  ! 
 — Therefore,  in  your  joyous  regions, 
 Joy  anew,  ye  sainted  legions  ! 
 Prophets  and  apostles  !  high 
 Swell  the  hymn  of  ecstacy  ! 
 Since  with  dread  requital,  lo, 
 God  hath  visited  your  foe  ! 
 
 Lo,  yon  angel  comes  to  cast 
 On  the  deep  a  mill-stone  vast ! 
 
 *  See  Ezek,  xxvi.  and  xxvii. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  41 
 
 Hark,  with  thundering  crash  it  fell !  — 
 
 Not  a  trace  is  left  to  tell 
 
 Where  it  sunk  ! — "  and  Babylon, 
 
 Like  this  emblematic  stone, — 
 
 "  She,"  he  shouts,  "  shall  sink ;   like  this, 
 
 S wallow' d  in  the  black  abyss  !"* 
 
 Death  reigns,  where  all  was  life  before  1 
 The  din  of  revelry  is  o'er  ; 
 The  charm  of  music,  heard  no  more  5 
 The  voice  of  martial  horn,  or  melting  lute  ! 
 The  busy  hum  of  man  is  mute  ! 
 The  sound  of  grinding  mill, 
 Or  labouring  craftsman,  still ! 
 No  more,  with  many-sparkling  light, 
 Her  lamps,  like  stars,  add  joyance  to  the  night  j 
 The  night,  how  dark  and  drear  ! 
 No  more  of  midnight's  festal  cheer. 
 The  mirth  of  bridegroom  and  of  bride 
 Hath  into  lone  sepulchral  silence  died  ! 
 — With  such  damn'd  wiles  the  nations  she  bewitch' d  ! 
 With  such  foul  trades  her  merchant  sons  enrich'd  ! 
 
 So  horrible  her  guilt ! 
 So  vast  the  vengeance  due  for  blood  she  spilt ! 
 Blood  of  the  saints,  through  many  an  age  conceal'd ; 
 —  At  last,  the  crimson  ocean  glares  reveal'd  ! 
 
 f  Hark  how  heaven's  high  world  rejoices 
 With  its  tuneful  host  of  voices  ! 
 
 *  Conip.  Jer.  li.  63,  64.  t  Ch.  xix. 
 
 ! 
 
42  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Hallelujah  rolls  around ! 
 Like  the  pealing  dash  of  ocean, 
 Like  the  thunder's  deep  commotion, 
 Hallelujah  they  resound ! 
 Glory  to  God,  from  all  above,  below  ! 
 His  righteous  wrath  hath  crush' d  the'  adulterous  foe  ! 
 Glory  to  God,  almighty  victor  crown'd  ! 
 
 —Joy  !  the  Lamb's  own  bridal  day 
 Joy !  His  bride  in  white  array  ! 
 His  saints,  refulgent  in  the  dress 
 Of  His  redeeming  righteousness  ! 
 Happy,  for  ever  happy,  they  ! 
 Guests  at  His  nuptial  feast ! 
 Such  Heaven's  eternal  word." — The  angel  ceas'd. 
 
 THE  CONQUEROR  OF  THE  BEAST  AND  THE 
 FALSE  PROPHET. 
 
 He  ceas'd  :   enraptur'd  with  his  wonderous  lore, 
 Prone  at  his  feet  I  fellf  as  fain  to'  adore : 
 "  Not  so  5"  he  rais'd  me  with  reproving  tone  5 
 "  I  am  thy  brother  -}  worship  God  alone  ! 
 Still  the  prophetic  spirit  must  record, 
 With  thee,  the  glories  of  thy  Saviour  Lord." 
 
 Lo,  where  that  Saviour  comes  !   as  on  my  view        "l 
 Heaven  opening  shows  a  steed  of  snow-white  hue,       r 
 Bearing  a  Warrior,  styl'd,  the  Faithful  and  the  True  ! 
 Deep  and  incomprehensible  His  name  : 
 His  crowns  were  manifold  5 — like  points  of  flame, 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  43 
 
 His  dazzling  eyes  5 — His  vesture  bath'd  in  Wood  -, 
 
 And  mark  His  name  inscrib'd,  the  Word  of  God  ! 
 
 — Heaven's  white-rob'd  armies,  on  their  snowy  steeds, 
 
 Follow  the  glorious  Captain  where  He  leads. 
 
 Forth  from  His  mouth  a  keen  ethereal  sword 
 
 Issues,  apt  emblem  of  His  conquering  word. 
 
 He  smites  the  nations  with  His  iron  rod ; 
 
 And  gives  their  haughtiest  rebels  to  be  trod 
 
 In  the  dread  wine-press  of  the  wrath  of  God. 
 
 His  vesture,  o'er  the  s worded  thigh,  records 
 
 His  title,  Kixg  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords. 
 
 } 
 
 The  vision  pass'd  ;  another  straight  begun. 
 Hark,  a  shrill  angel,  central  in  the  sun, 
 Beckons  aloud  the  winged  tribes  of  air  3 - 
 (i  Haste,  to  the  vengeance-feast  of  God  repair  ! 
 Ye  vultures,  eagles,  haste  ! — the  flesh  of  kings  is  there  ! 
 The  flesh  of  kings  and  heroes,  vainly  brave  3 
 Rider  and  horse,  the  tyrant  and  the  slave  ?" — 
 A  rich,  but  grim  repast ! — The'  imperial  beast 
 Musters  his  myriads,  to  supply  that  feast, 
 "Gainst  the  crown' d  Hero  on  the  charger  white  : 
 Musters  in  vain  ! — Beneath  celestial  might 
 Falls  the  proud  monster,  with  his  two-horn'd  mate, 
 The  false-tongued  prophet,  partner  of  his  fate  : 
 Him  who  beguil'd,  witli  many  a  lying  spell, 
 All  that  before  that  monster's  image  fell. 
 Soon  are  they  both,  in  one  combustion  dire, 
 Cast  living  to  the  lake  of  living  fire  ! 
 
 *  Comi>.  Ezek.  xxxix.  17—20. 
 
 } 
 
44  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATJVI0S. 
 
 While,  by  the  Conqueror's  blade,  their  host  are  given 
 To  gorge  the  gathering  nations  of  mid  heaven. 
 
 A  moment's  pause.     Oh  dread,  deciding  day, 
 Which  in  the  prophet's  glass  I  here  survey ! 
 Day,  when  Messiah  lays  His  patience  by, 
 And  clothes  Him  with  indignant  majesty  3 
 Summons  His  foes,  wide-scatter'd,  to  their  fall  ; 
 And,  with  one  sweeping  judgment,  whelms  them  all ! 
 While  the  glad  Church  their  nnish'd  ruin  sings, 
 And  heaven's  whole  temple  with  loud  triumph  rings  \ 
 And  a  far  purer,  happier  scene  comes  on, 
 Than  ever  yet  o'er  earth's  long  darkness  shone  ! 
 Yes,  wait  5  though  cloud  and  storm  the  noon  o'ercast  5 
 Wait !  the  sweet  evening  smiles  in  gold  at  last ! 
 
 *:+>**•**■■**■+* '■**•<**' 
 
 THE  THOUSAND  YEARS,  AND  THE  LAST 
 JUDGMENT. 
 
 *  Lighting  on  earth,  a  new  bright  herald  see, 
 Arm'd  with  hell's  adamantine  chain  and  key : 
 See  him  the  dragon  seize  with  iron  grasp, 
 And  bind,  a  thousand  years,  the'  infernal  asp, 
 Hurl'd  headlong  to  the  bottomless  abyss, 
 Fast  lock'd  and  fetter'd,  there  to  howl  and  hiss, 
 Nor  lure  the  victim  nations  as  before, 
 Till,  when  the  bright  millennial  calm  is  o'er,  I 
 
 Loos'd  for  his  last  brief  term,  he  mars  the  earth  once  ( 
 more. 
 
 ♦  Ch.  xx. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATHOS.  "     45 
 
 Lo,  thrones  are  rear'd, — with  saints  on  every  throne  ! 
 Judges  they  sit,  and  earth's  dominion  own. 
 Resurgent,  lo,  the  spirits  of  the  dead, 
 — Of  all  that  for  the  name  of  Jesus  bled, 
 All  that  the  monster's  image  dar'd  disdain, — 
 Live  with  their  Lord  those  thousand  years,  and  reign. 
 Not  so  the  rest :  they  rise  to  life  no  more, 
 Till  the  long  sabbath  of  the  saints  is  o'er. 
 The  first,  illustrious  resurrection  this  : 
 Oh  happy  saints,  who  taste  its  holy  bliss  ! 
 O'er  such  the  last  dread  Death  no  power  may  gain  : 
 They,  priests  of  God  and  Christ,  share  His  terrestrial 
 reign  ! 
 
 But  ah,  that  halcyon  reign  must  yet  be  past ! — 
 Satan,  let  loose,  must  ravage  earth  at  last ; 
 Must  urge  the'  apostate  nations,  wide  dispers'd, 
 — Magog  and  Gog,  by  antient  seers  rehears'd,"* — 
 Yet  against  heaven  to  congregate  their  might : 
 — Thick  as  the  sea-side  sand,  they  join  the  fight ! 
 They  darken,  like  a  thunder-cloud  j  and  hem, 
 Camp  of  the  saints,  belov'd  Jerusalem, 
 Hem  thee  around  !  when  fire  from  heaven  devours, 
 Sudden  as  lightning,  those  infatuate  powers  : 
 He,  too,  that  urg'd  them, — Satan, — finds  his  doom,     -^ 
 Where  unconsuming  tortures  still  consume,  > 
 
 Fall'n  Antichrist,  thy  host,  in  dread  sulphureous  gloom!  J 
 — Triumph,  ye  saints  ! — there  perish  all  your  foes  : 
 For  ever,  there,  earth's  wild  commotions  close. 
 
 •  Ezek.  xxxviii.  and  xxxix. 
 
46  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 See,  on  yon  mighty  throne  of  dazzling  white, 
 One,  from  whose  face,  insufferably  bright, 
 Vanish  the  heavens  and  earth  ! — their  day  is  o'er  -, 
 Nature  is  gone  $  her  place  is  found  no  more ! 
 See  the  dead  universe  revive,  and  stand 
 At  God's  tribunal,  rang'd  on  either  hand : 
 See  the  books  open'd, — Conscience  and  the  Law  -, 
 And  oh,  another  5  tempering  grace  with  awe, 
 The  book  of  Life  ! — From  these  the  cited  dead 
 Hear  each  his  acts  rehears'd,  his  judgment  read. 
 ■—Ocean  restor'd  the  prisoners  of  his  wave  \ 
 Hades  and  Death  their  captive  millions  gave  : 
 All,  all  were  sentenc'd  :  Death  and  Hades,  cast 
 Deep  in  the'  undying  gulph  : — oh  worst,  and  last, 
 And  sole  surviving  Death,— the  first  for  ever  past ! 
 All,  unrecorded  in  the  book  of  bliss, 
 Sunk  in  that  fiery,  fathomless  abyss  ! 
 
 ***•++**>&&•**■*+*+■ 
 
 } 
 
 Mysterious  visions  of  the  closing  world  ! 
 Yet  soon,  (futurity's  dim  curtair  furl'd,) 
 Destin'd  to  burst,  and  change  our  faith  to  sense,-— 
 Evolv'd  by  thee,  prophetic  Providence. 
 A  day  of  thine  is  as  a  thousand  years  : 
 And  lo,  six  mystic  days  of  toil  and  tears 
 Have  o'er  this  groaning  system  well-nigh  passd ; 
 The  seventh,  sabbatic  morning  dawns  at  last  5 
 The  rising  Sun  of  righteousness  renews 
 The  rising,  shining  saints,  like  countless    sun-bright 
 dews. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  47 
 
 — Come,  age  of  glory,  glad  our  aching  eyes  ! 
 Pictur'd  so  oft  in  bright  prophetic  dyes  ! 
 But  first,  thou  seventh  dread  vial,  thou  must  run  5 
 First  must  be  work  of  righteous  wrath  be  done  ;  I 
 
 And  heaven's  red  vintage  reap'd,  and  Armageddon  j 
 
 won  : 
 The  last  convulsions  of  long-labouring  earth 
 Must  fit  her  first  for  that  celestial  birth  : 
 Ere  reign  the  Church,  triumphant  e'en  below  5 
 And  her  full  joy  obliterate  all  her  woe. — 
 Oft  have  the  curious  vainly  question'd  here, 
 How,  when,  and  where  the  Lord  shall  re-appear  3 
 Whether  departed  saints  on  earth  shall  gain 
 New  life,  and  here  with  Christ  millennial  reign. 
 — Oh,  let  me  but  Thy  kingdom,  Saviour,  share  !         -^ 
 Why  should  I  anxious  muse,  how,  when,  or  where  ?     > 
 Enough  that  all  are  blest,  that  all  are  holy,  there  !       J 
 
 Is  it  then  earth  ?  or  earth  transform'd  to  heaven  2 — 
 Yet  ask  not ! — Nature  still  retains  her  leaven  : 
 Man  still  is  man  :  apostate  still,  his  race 
 Must  give  sad  proof  of  renovating  grace 
 Needed  through  every  age, — nor  least  the  last. 
 Who  but  must  weep  that  promis'd  sabbath  past  r 
 That  parting  page  of  Time,  with  sudden  gloom  o'ercast! 
 What  though  the  soul  of  piety,  when  fled, 
 Gain'd  a  millennial  rising  from  the  dead  ? 
 Ah,  wak'd  once  more,  the  old  rebellion  strives, 
 And  thy  dead  spirit,  Antichrist,  revives  ! 
 
 ,} 
 
48  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 — Yet  weep  not  long  !  lo,  vanish' d  all  the  gloom, 
 Vanish' d,  e'en  Time  ! — -'tis  come,  the  day  of  doom, 
 Opening  Eternity  ! — but  fancy  faints,  -> 
 
 Awe-struck  and  dumb  ;  nor  mortal  utterance  paints    > 
 The  glory  bursting  full  on  earth's  last  suffering  saints.-' 
 In  the  rich  contrast  of  its  lights  and  lines, 
 Now,  Providence,  thy  panorama  shines  ! 
 While  the  great  Master,  mingling  dark  and  bright, 
 Charms,  with  the'  harmonious  whole,  the  judging  sight. 
 And  oh,  what  visions,  in  the'  eternal  clime,  ^ 
 
 Eclipse  the  fairest  retrospect  of  Time  !  > 
 
 Visions  that  close  thy  page,  thou  Book  of  God  sublime !  * 
 
 THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 *  Here  on  my  gaze  those  dazzling  visions  burst) 
 A  new  creation  rising; — past  the  first;-— 
 New  heavens,  and  heaven-like  earth ;  where  sea  no  more, 
 Sever'd,  intrusive,  shore  from  kindred  shore  ! 
 And  there,  refulgent  as  a  peerless  bride, 
 On  the  glad  spousal  morning  beautified 
 For  her  lov'd  lord;  from  opening  heaven  she  came, 
 That  holy  city,  New  Jerusalem  ! 
 
 And  hark,  what  voice  shouts  with  exulting  swell; —  -. 
 "  God  with  His  people,  God  Himself,  will  dwell  5         > 
 Will  be  their  present  God, — and  they  His  Israel !      J 
 He  wipes  all  tears  for  ever  from  their  eyes ; 
 Pain  is  no  more;  and  Death  for  ever  dies." 
 
 *  Ch.  xxi; 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  49 
 
 Hark,  from  the  throne  He  speaks,  the  First,  the  Last  j 
 
 "  'Tis  done  :  the  former  universe  is  past : 
 
 Thou  seest  the  new  creation  there  begun  : 
 
 Write  from  My  voice  the  changeless  word : — 'tis  done. — 
 
 Free  is  the  Fount  of  Life  to  all  that  thirst  5 
 
 But  all  that  love  their  guilt,  with  living  death  are  curs'd." 
 
 An  angel  here,  an  angel  of  the  seven 
 Charged  with  those  seven  last  plagues  of  wrathful  heaven, 
 Bore  me  aloft  in  spirit,  to  behold 
 The  bride,  the  Lamb's  own  city ;   as,  of  old, 
 The  patriarch,  ripe  for  death,  from  Pisgah's  height 
 Cast  o'er  the  prom  is 'd  land  his  wistful  sight : 
 Oh,  what  a  scene  was  mine,  unutterably  bright  ! 
 There  walls  of  chrysolite  and  ruby  blaze  ; 
 There  battlements  of  jasper  charm  the  gaze  5 
 While  beryl,  sardonyx,  and  topaz,  blend  their  rays  ' 
 And  gates  of  massive  pearl,  like  silver,  gleam  -, 
 And  streets  of  gold,  like  glass,  transparent  beam  ; 
 And  sapphire,  emerald,  amethyst  unite 
 Their  exquisite  diversities  of  light ! 
 No  temple  there  around,  no  sun  above  \ 
 All  sun,  all  temple  there,  where  all  is  God  and  Love  ! 
 There  the  redeem'd,  through  day  that  knows  not  night, 
 Rest  or  expatiate  in  their  fields  of  light : 
 Nought  of  pollution  taints  the'  immortal  air  3 
 But  gather'd  to  that  center,  treasur'd  there, 
 Is  all  that  Earth  could  yield  of  glorious,  good,  and  j 
 
 } 
 
 I  fair. J 
 
 Let  me  not  ask  if  this  be  Heaven.     Oh,  yes, 
 'Tis  Heaven,  in  more  than  Earth's  millennial  dress  ! 
 
50  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 So,  in  the  summer  lake's  unruffled  face, 
 
 The  mirror  d  stars,  the  bright  blue  sky,  we  trace. 
 
 *  Rapt  as  I  gaz'd,  the  guiding  seraph  show'd 
 Where,  clear  as  crystal,  Life's  own  river  flow'd 
 Forth  from  the  throne  of  God  5  then  bade  me  view 
 The  tree  of  immortality  that  grew 
 Where  the  fair  stream  for  ever  bath'd  its  roots, 
 With  leaves  of  healing  full,  and  amaranthine  fruits. 
 There,  face  to  face,  with  God  the  saints  converse  5 
 No  cloud  is  there,  no  lingering  sin-born  curse  : 
 His  name  resplendent  on  their  brows  they  bear, 
 And  His  eternal  reign,  His  blissful  service,  share. 
 
 All  this  I  heard,  I  saw,  with  wonder  dumb  5 
 When  hark,  once  more  He  speaks  5  "  Behold,  I  come  ! 
 All,  all  the  God  of  prophets  hath  reveal' d, 
 *Tis  sure,  'tis  instant ;  let  it  not  be  seal'd. 
 Still  let  the  wicked  work  his  wicked  will, 
 The  friend  of  holiness  be  holy  still : 
 Hastening  I  come,  the  First,  the  Last,  the  Lord  5 
 I  come  to  each  5  and  with  Me  My  reward. 
 Thrice  happy  they,  who  hear  My  voice,  and  heed  ! 
 On  fruits  of  immortality  to  feed, 
 And  dwell  in  paradise,  to  them  is  given  5 
 While  all  the  sons  of  guilt  are  far  to  darkness  driven. 
 Tis  I,  the  Root  and  Branch  of  David's  tree, 
 The  glorious  Day-star  of  Eternity, 
 I,  Jesus,  thus  have  sent,  to  show  thee  scenes  to 
 
 be!  J 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  51 
 
 Come,  then  j  'tis  God's  own  Spirit  speaks  to  all : 
 Come  -,  'tis  the  Saviour's  bride  repeats  the  call : 
 Come  ;  be  that  call  by  happy  myriads  heard, 
 While  each  to  each  reverberates  the  word  : 
 Come,  all  that  thirst  for  mercy,  all  that  will  5 
 Drink  at  the  Fount  of  Life,  and  freely  drink  your  fill ! — 
 And  I,  behold,  I  come  !  expect  the  day 
 Suddenly,  swiftly ;  while  ye  watch  and  pray  !" 
 — Tis  the  last  farewell  accent ;  Heaven  is  dumb  : 
 Answer,  each  heart,  "  Amen  :  come,  Saviour,  hastening 
 come  !" 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 'Tis  o'er  :  the  vision  vanishes  ! — I  lay 
 Tranc'd  in  its  wonders  all  the  lonely  day  5 
 And,  hurrying  through  the  heaven-illumin'd  page, 
 Crowded  in  few  brief  hours  each  past,  each  future  age  ! 
 Nor  strange  if,  dubious  oft-times  and  confus'd, 
 The  Prophet's  hieroglyphics  I  perus'd  ; 
 While  the  dim  twilight  History's  lamp  displays 
 Scarce  seem'd  to  guide  me  through  the'  eventful  maze : 
 Nor  strange  if  clear-eyed  reason  oft-times  fail'd 
 Midst  the  stupendous  scenery  that  prevail'd ; 
 When  still  the  curtain  rose  and  fell  so  fast, 
 And,  swift  as  meteors,  new  creations  pass'd  ) 
 And,  angel  following  angel, — earthquakes,  thunders, 
 Voices,  and  trumpets,  usher'd  thickening  wonders  ! — 
 
.} 
 
 52  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Starting  to  earthly  consciousness,  I  found 
 Rude  rocks,  and  silent  nature,  all  around ; 
 And  only  caught  from  far  the  wave's  retiring  sound 
 And  where,  so  late,  prophetic  tumult  rag'd, 
 Where  opening  heaven  had  all  my  soul  engag'd, 
 Patmos  return'd,  sequester'd  and  serene ; 
 And,  wistful,  o'er  the  disenchanted  scene, 
 I  gaz'd,  as  one  emerging  from  a  world 
 Where,  in  the  trance,  my  spirit  had  been  hurl'd. 
 The'  Egkan  evening  fell ;  the  sun's  last  smile 
 Linger'd  in  rose-light  o'er  the  holy  isle  : 
 Vainly  poetic  pencil  might  aspire 
 To  paint  that  sea  of  crystal  mix'd  with  fire  ; 
 John's  own  embodied  vision  !* — Lovely  rise 
 The  sister  isles,  in  amethystine  dyes  : 
 While,  in  the'  horizon,  Asia,  bluely  pale, 
 Whispers  to  memory's  ear  the  mournful  tale 
 Of  those  seven  churches,  once  divinely  bright, 
 That, — -sunk  in  ruin's,  now,  and  error's  night, —  I 
 
 Preach  from  their  dust  the  doom  of  heaven's  neglected  j 
 light.  J 
 
 Pathetic  contrast !     Man,  man  only,  vile, 
 Where  soul- less  nature  wears  her  sweetest  smile  ! 
 
 Yet  look  beyond  !     This  long,  this  dark  eclipse, 
 — Scatter'd  by  thee,  divine  Apocalypse, — 
 Is  past.     The  Church  in  perfect  beauty  shines, 
 Loveliest  at  last :  I  see  the  dawning  signs. 
 
 *  Cb.  xv.  2. 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Long  has  the'  expected  scene  approach' d :    and  lo, 
 
 The  seventh  last  trump, — e'en  now  I  hear  it  blow. 
 
 Years  of  millennial  glory,  soon  ye  roll  5 
 
 And  God's  predestin'd  mystery  finds  its  goal  1* 
 
 E'n  now,  as  kindling  stars,  like  islets  bright, 
 
 "Wake  from  their  darkness  into  life  and  light, 
 
 Till,  all  around,  the'  ethereal  ocean  smiles  5 
 
 Lo,  from  their  antient  gloom  those  cluster'd  isles 
 
 That  star  the  blue  Pacific,  born  anew, 
 
 In  swift  succession  brighten  on  the  view  ! 
 
 As  those  that  watch  for  morning  ;  t  as  the  band, 
 
 Weary  of  waves,  that  look  for  promis'd  land 
 
 With  hope's  prophetic  gaze  3   so,  Lord,  Thy  saints 
 
 For  the  bright  age  Thy  closing  volume  paints 
 
 Look  with  uplifted  head  and  glistening  eye, 
 
 As  conscious  their  redemption  draweth  nigh." 'J 
 
 Scatter  d,  e'en  now,  the  seed,  the  sower,  spread 
 
 The  Christian  resurrection  of  the  dead  : 
 
 While,  through  the  vast  and  visionary  vale, 
 
 The  dry  bones  rustle  to  the  wakening  gale  ;§ 
 
 And,  cloth'd  with  flesh,  and  animate  with  breath, 
 
 People,  a  countless  host,  the  rescued  realms  of  Death  ! 
 
 And  here, — wThat  visions  greet  my  glad  surprise  ? 
 
 New  saints  at  Corinth,  new  Ephesians  rise  : 
 
 Fair  Greece,  emancipate  from  Turkish  thrall, 
 
 Shines  forth,  far  lovelier  than  before  her  fall  ! 
 
 *  Ch.  x.  7.  i  Ps.  cxxx.  6.  j  I  like  \\i.  22*. 
 
 $  Ezek.  xxxvii.  1—10 
 
54  THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS. 
 
 Each  isle,  a  new-born  paradise,  where  meet 
 Brethren  of  Christ,  in  fellowship  how  sweet ! 
 E'en  Patmos,  for  her  John  no  more  a  sad  retreat ! 
 
 ,} 
 
 Thou,  too,  for  whom  my  hallow'd  course  Ibend, 
 (Great  Lord  of  missions,  Judah's  cause  befriend  !) 
 Thou,  widow'd  Salem, — smiling  from  thy  tears, 
 Rais'd  from  the  ruins  of  two  thousand  years, — 
 Shalt  hear  the  call,  long  slighted,  though  Divine ; 
 "  Arise  !  thy  light  is  come;  arise,  and  shine!"* 
 Shalt  see  thy  children,  clustering,  as  of  yore, 
 To  weep  their  pierc'd  Messiah,  and  adore  !t 
 E'en  now,  prelusive  to  the  gracious  shower,  J 
 Fall  the  first  drops  : — 'tis  Sion's  promis'd  hour  $ 
 For  Christians,  wak'd  to  pity,  hear  her  groans, 
 Favour  her  dust,  and  fondly  eye  her  stones. § 
 Near  is  her  rise ;  and  if  (as  well  her  Paul 
 Pleaded  her  cause)  so  fruitful  e'en  her  fall, 
 Oh,  what  shall  be  that  rise,  less  than  the  rise  of  all  ?  | 
 While  the  fierce  Turk,  to  meek  repentance  won, — 
 The  false,  foul  tribes  of  mystic  Babylon, — 
 The  fir'd  fanatic,  hypocrite  disguis'd, 
 Cold  formalist,  or  infidel  baptis'd, — 
 And  oh,  the  myriads  of  each  Pagan  clime, 
 That  walk  in  darkness  from  the  birth  of  Time  j— 
 All,  as  from  one  vast  temple,  joy  to  raise, 
 One  sacrifice  of  prayer,  one  choral  song  of  praise  ! 
 
 *  Isai.  lx.  1.  +  Zech.  xii.  10.  j  Ps.  lxviii.  9. 
 
 $  Ps.  cii.  13, 14.  II  Rom.  xi.  12, 15. 
 
 } 
 
THE    VISIONS    OF    PATMOS.  00 
 
 Haste,  last  best  age  of  Prophecy,  be  boru  ! — 
 Lord,  for  its  old  hereditary  thorn, 
 Clothe  the  dry  waste  with  myrtle,  rose,  and  pine, 
 That  all  may  see  the  hand,  and  own  the  glory,  Thine  1  * 
 Hear'st  Thou  the  labouring  world  for  ages  groan  r  t 
 Hear'st  howThy  saints  their  suffering  Church  bemoan  ? 
 Where  is  Thy  zeal,  Thy  sounding  bowels  where  * 
 Oh,  rend  Thy  heavens, — Thy  bosom'd  right-hand  bare  !  + 
 — Sword  of  the  Spirit,  wake  !  thou  word  of  light, 
 Go,  travelling  in  the  greatness  of  Thy  might  !§ 
 And  Thou,  Messiah,  win  Thy  conquering  way  ! 
 Why  should  Thy  chariot-wheels  thus  long  delay  ? 
 See  the  bright  standard  of  Thy  cross  unfurl'd  ! 
 Assert,  Thine  own,  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  !  || 
 Till  the  whole  sphere  of  Earth  and  Time  be  given 
 To  vanish  in  the'  Eternity  of  Heaven  ! 
 
 ♦  Isa.  xli.  19,  20.  +  Rom.  viii  22. 
 
 :  Isa,  liiii.  15.  and  lxiv.  l.    Ps.  Ixxiv.  11.      i  Isai.  Ixiii.  1.         Rtv.  *:.  1j. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page  3,  line  6. 
 "  Where  the  fierce  pirate  comes,  thine  only  guest  " 
 
 An  interesting  account  of  Patmos  is  given  in  the  Travels 
 of  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke.  "  Pirates,"  he  says,  "  swarm  around 
 Patmos,  and  on  account  of  its  many  ports  it  is  much  infested 
 by  them." 
 
 Page  4,  line  14. 
 "  Thou,  faithful  Philadelphia,  sole  art  found" 
 
 Modern  travellers  represent  four  Christian  Churches  still 
 remaining  in  Philadelphia,  and  above  two  hundred  houses 
 inhabited  by  Christians.  "Philadelphia/'  says  Gibbon,  "  is 
 still  erect ;  a  column  in  a  scene  of  ruins." 
 
 Page  7,  line  14. 
 "  And  see,  He  comes,  great  Master  of  the  seals.''' 
 
 The  writer  has  endeavoured  to  interweave  the  ecclesiastical 
 with  the  secular  interpretation  of  the  seals  and  the  trumpets. 
 The  most  comprehensive  is  generally  the  most  probable  ap- 
 plication of  Prophecy. 
 
58  NOTES. 
 
 Page  8,  line  20. 
 "  Four  ghastly  plagues  come  revelling  oyer  the  slain" 
 
 The  infidel  historian  of  "  the  Decline  and  Fall,"  often  proves 
 an  unconscious  and  energetic  commentator  on  the  apocalyptic 
 seals  and  trumpets.  "  A  long  and  general  famine,  followed 
 by  epidemical  diseases,  contributed,  with  other  causes,  to  the 
 furious  plague  which,  from  the  year  250  to  265,  raged  without 
 interruption  in  every  province,  every  city,  and  almost  every 
 family,  of  the  Roman  empire:  During  some  time  5,000  per- 
 sons died  daily  in  Rome ;  and  many  towns  that  had  escaped 
 the  hands  of  the  barbarians,  were  entirely  depopulated.  There 
 is  reason  to  suspect  that  war,  pestilence,  and  famine  had 
 consumed,  in  a  few  years,  the  moiety  of  the  human  species. " 
 — Gibbon,  Chap.  10. 
 
 Page  10,  line  14. 
 "  For  germinant  is  Prophecy,  and  shoots." 
 
 "  In  sorting  the  Prophecies  of  Scripture  with  their  events, 
 we  must  allow  for  that  latitude  which  is  agreeable  and  fami- 
 liar to  Divine  Prophecies  ;  being  of  the  nature  of  their  Author, 
 with  whom  a  thousand  years  are  but  as  one  day,  and  there- 
 fore they  are  not  fulfilled  punctually  at  once;  but  have  a 
 springing  and  germinant  accomplishment  throughout  many 
 ages,  though  the  height  and  fulness  of  them  may  refer  to  some 
 one  age/' — Bacon  on  the  Advancement  of  Learning;  Book  2. 
 
 To  this  just  and  fine  observation  of  our  great  philosopher, 
 it  may  be  added  that  the  foundation  of  this  complex  import 
 and  successive  accomplishment  of  prophecy,  lies  in  that  analogy 
 of  procedure  which  pervades  and  characterises  the  Divine 
 administration  of  human  affairs.  Accordingly  a  particular 
 judgment  often  serves  as  a  type  or  sample  of  a  class  of  kin- 
 dred events,  which  may  be  gathered  from  distant  scenes  and 
 periods.    This  similarity  in  the  features  of  Providence,  *s 
 
NOTES.  59 
 
 exhibited  in  different  ages,  enables  the  prophet  so  to  adapt 
 his  style  to  the  succession  of  objects  in  his  view,  as  to  paint 
 the  near  and  subordinate  event  in  terms  that  emphatically 
 represent  the  ulterior  and  more  important.  The  germina- 
 tions of  Prophecy  arise  out  of  the  correspondences  of  Provi- 
 dence ;  analogy  furnishing  a  more  sublime  and  comprehensive 
 principle  of  association,  than  the  mere  circumstance  of  time, 
 M  Idsuepenumerd  habetProphetia,  ut  plures  eventus,  tempore 
 disjunctos,  simul  prospiciat,  et  per  diversos  veluti  grades  ad 
 extremum  praecipuumque  exitum  perveniat.  Hanc  ob  causam 
 uotiones  unhersales  maxime  sequitur,  easquc  communibus 
 imaginibus  exprimit;  quippe  quas  totam  Divini  consilii  com- 
 prehensionem  includere  possint,  singulasque  rerum  progres- 
 siones  comitari  ;  ad  propinquiorem  aliquam  me  tain  facile 
 referenda,  sed  ad  ultimi  finis  ruagnitudirem  et  pondus  exae- 
 quandaui  accuratius  adnumeratae  atque  appensae." — Lowth. 
 Praelect.  20. 
 
 If  the  writer  might  be  permitted,  with  all  the  deference  due 
 to  superior  authorities,  to  express  his  own  opinion  respecting 
 the  most  prevailing  error  of  those  who  have  appeared  as  inter- 
 preters of  the  Apocalypse  ;  he  would  place  it  in  a  disposition 
 to  restrict  various  passages  too  definitely  to  single  events, 
 without  an  adequate  allowance  for  the  comprehensive  ampli- 
 tude, and  successive  evolution,  of  their  real  import. 
 
 Page  11,  line  18. 
 "  Of  hail,  and  torrent  fire,  and  mingled  blood" 
 
 The  historian  has  borne  his  undesigned  testimony  to  the 
 truth  of  Prophecy,  in  allegorical  language,  similar  to  that 
 which  the  prophet  had  employed.  "  On  the  decease  of  Theo- 
 dosius,  a.  D.  395,  the  northern  cloud,  which  had  so  long  been 
 gathering,  discharged  itself."  And  again  :  4k  The  dark  cloud, 
 which  was  collected  along  the  coasts  of  the  Baltic,  burst  in 
 thunder  upon  the  banks  of  the  upper  Danube. M — Gibbon. 
 
60  NOTES. 
 
 Page  12,  line  28. 
 
 "  Visions  of  horror,  crowd  not  on  my  soul!" 
 
 M  Visions  of  glory,  spare  my  aching  sight ! 
 Ye  unborn  ages,  crowd  not  on  my  soul  P 
 
 Gray's  noble  ode,  The  Bard,  in  which  these  lines  occur, 
 is  itself  a  kind  of  secular  Prophecy,  which  borrows,  instead  of 
 anticipating,  the  light  of  History. 
 
 Page  13,  line  11. 
 "  Five  mystic  months,  thrice  fifty  days  of  years." 
 
 "  If  these  five  months  be  taken  for  prophetic  months,  or 
 one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  it  was  within  that  space  of  time 
 that  the  Saracens  made  their  principal  conquests.  Read  their 
 history  and  you  will  find  that  their  greatest  exploits  were 
 performed  between  the  year  612,  when  Mahommed  began 
 publicly  to  propagate  his  imposture,  and  the  year  762,  when 
 the  caliph  Aim  an  sot built  Bagdad,  to  fix  there  the  seat  of  his 
 empire." — Bp.  Newton. 
 
 Page  15,  line  12. 
 "  Mark'd  in  prophetic  style;  the  year,  month,  day,  and  hour" 
 
 "  It  is  wonderfully  remarkable  that  the  first  conquest,  men- 
 tioned in  history,  of  the  Othmans  over  the  Christians,  was  in 
 the  year  of  the  Hegira  680,  and  of  Christ  1281.  Compute  391 
 years"  (the  amount  of  a  year,  month,  and  day,  taken  pro- 
 phetically) "from  that  time,  and  they  will  terminate  in  the 
 year  1672  ;  and  in  that  year  Mahommed  the  fourth  took  Ca- 
 meniec  from  the  Poles,  and  forty-eight  towns  and  villages 
 were  delivered  up  to  the  sultan,  upon  the  treaty  of  peace. 
 Whereupon  Prince  Cantemir  hath  made  this  memorable  re- 
 flection ; — 6  This  was  the  last  victory  by  which  any  advantage 
 accrued  to  the  Othman  state,  or  any  city  or  province  was 
 
NOTES.  61 
 
 anuexed  to  the  antient  bounds  of  the  empire/  Agreeably  to 
 which  observation,  he  hatb  entitled  the  former  part  of  his 
 history  the  growth,  and  the  latter  the  decay,  of  the  Othman 
 Empire" — Bp.  Newton.  Above  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
 have  elapsed,  and  still  the  Turks  have  subdued  no  new  state  ; 
 for  a  considerable  period,  their  power  has  been  evidently  in 
 its  decline. 
 
 Page  16,  line  5. 
 "  A  small,  unfolded  roll  His  right  hand  bore" 
 
 "  A  little  bookfiifiXapiZiov,  different  from  the  book,  fiifiXiov, 
 mentioned  before.  It  was  indeed  a  codicil  to  the  larger  book, 
 and  properly  cometh  under  the  sixth  trumpet,  to  describe  the 
 state  of  the  western  church,  after  the  description  of  the  state 
 of  the  eastern:  and  this  is  with  good  reason  made  a  separate 
 prophecy,  on  account  of  the  importance  of  the  matter.  In 
 the  former  part  of  the  11th  chapter,  from  the  1st  to  the  14th 
 verse,  are  exhibited  the  contents  of  this  little  book." — Bp. 
 Newton. 
 
 It  is  not  without  repeated  deliberation  that  the  writer  ad- 
 heres to  the  above  arrangement,  in  preference  to  that  of  those 
 expositors  who  extend  the  materials  of  the  little  book  to  the 
 close  either  of  the  13th  or  the  14th  chapter  ;  or  those  who,  in 
 company  with  Mede,  regard  all  that  follows  its  introduction 
 as  part  of  its  contents,  and  thus  make  it  larger  than  the  seven- 
 sealed  volume. — The  very  remarkable  circumstance  of  the 
 contemporaneous  rise  of  the  eastern  and  the  western  Anti- 
 christ, sufficiently  intimates  the  time  near  which  the  grand 
 era  of  corruptions  commences,  and  consequently  that  near 
 which  it  terminates.  The  rise  and  progress  of  Mahommedism 
 have  been  sketched  under  the  two  preceding  woe-trumpets : 
 the  rise,  progress,  decline,  and  destruction  of  Popery  are 
 chiefly  reserved  for  the  subsequent  part  of  the  visions  ;  and 
 here,  in  this  episode  of  the  little  book,  we  learn  the  destinies  of 
 the  western  church,  or  rather  of  the  only  faithful  church, 
 during  the  long  and   melancholy  period  considered. 
 
62  NOTES. 
 
 The  mighty  angel  who  introduces  the  little  book,  and  who 
 utters  its  contents,  (chap.  x.  1.  xi.  1.)  must  naturally  be  sup- 
 posed to  close  his  part,  and  to  retire  from  the  scene,  where 
 the  seventh  angel  sounds  in  his  turn.  (chap.  xi.  15.)  The  order 
 of  the  prophet  is  similar,  in  this  instance,  to  that  of  the  histo- 
 rian or  poet,  who  often,  after  pursuing  one  department  of  his 
 subject,  returns  to  exhibit  another  parallel  in  time  with  the 
 former.  This  arrangement  in  no  degree  interferes  with  the 
 fundamental  synchronisms  ofMede;  while  it  avoids  the  im- 
 propriety of  assigning  a  disproportionate  magnitude  to  a  very 
 small  roily  (for  the  word  is  a  double  diminutive)  ;  and  also 
 the  necessity  of  dividing  the  sixth  trumpet  between  the  two 
 books.  This  book  appears  to  be  characterised  as  little  and 
 open,  in  express  distinction  from  the  original  book  which  had 
 been  larger  and  sealed.  And  there  seems  to  be  a  certain  cor- 
 respondence between  the  introduction  of  this  episode  before 
 the  seventh  trumpet,  and  the  solemn  pause,  accompanied  with 
 the  sublime  digression,  which  had  preceded  the  opening  of  the 
 seventh  seal.  (chap,  vii.)  The  events  predicted  in  the  12th 
 and  13th  chapters,  are  evidently  prior  to  those  with  which 
 the  little  book  in  the  the  11th  chapter  had  opened:  a  cir- 
 cumstance which  renders  it  improbable  that  those  chapters 
 should  be  included  in  the  separate  and  intervening  roll. 
 
 "  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion/'  says  Scott  in  a  luminous  note 
 on  chap.  x.  2 — 4.  "  that  the  little  book  contains  only  the  first 
 14  verses  of  the  11th  chapter;  being  coincident,  as  to  the 
 state  of  things  in  the  west,  with  the  state  of  the  eastern  empire 
 as  predicted  in  the  9th  chapter." 
 
 "  The  seventh  and  last  trumpet  was  now  expected  :  but  a 
 new  and  enlarging  scene  opens  under  the  sixth  trumpet,  and 
 before  the  end  of  the  second  woe.  The  famous  period  of  1260 
 days  is  now  presented  to  view.  The  usurped  dominion  of  the 
 Mahommedans,  disclosed  under  the  sixth  trumpet,  is  continued 
 throughout;  but  there  is  another  antichristian  usurpation 
 which  belongs  to  the  same  period,  and  which  is  to  be  produced 
 as  contemporary  with  it." — Woodhouse. 
 
NOTES.  63 
 
 Page  16,  line  14. 
 u  God's  ichole  consummate  mystery  shall  close." 
 
 As  the  mystery  of  iniqu'ty  (2  Thess.  ii.  7.)  is  the  triumphant 
 working  of  Satan  ;  so  the  mystery  of  God,  which  is  finished 
 under  the  seventh  trumpet,  appears  to  be  the  triumphant  reign 
 of  godliness.  And  the  tim<>,  which  shall  then  be  no  more,  seems 
 to  denote  the  period  of  corruptions  so  often  defined  in  Pro- 
 phecy ;  u  the  time,  times,  and  half/'  reachiug  to  "  the  time  of 
 the  end."  (Compare  Dan.  xii.  6 — 13.  where  the  angel  takes 
 the  same  kind  of  solemn  oath,  referring  to  the  same  period.) 
 The  verb  evrjyyeXare,  declared  good  tidings,  though  obscured 
 in  our  version,  emphatically  alludes  to  the  millennial  blessed- 
 ness more  fully  unfolded  in  a  subsequent  part  of  the  visions. 
 
 Page  \7,  line  26. 
 "  My  witnesses,  these  twain,  in  sackcloth  preach." 
 
 The  ground-work  of  this  allegory  is  to  be  sought  in  the  his- 
 tory of  Moses  and  Elijah  :  they  fled  into  the  wilderness  before 
 the  face  of  idolatrous  kings  :  they  protested  against  magicians 
 and  idolaters  :  in  an  age  of  general  depravity,  they  preserved 
 and  revived  the  light  and  power  of  religion  :  they  appear  to 
 have  been  both  raised  immediately  beyond  the  dominion  of 
 death:  they  re-appeared  at  the  transfiguration,  as  types  of  a 
 glorious  resurrection.  Two  distinguished  witnesses  have  been 
 combined  in  their  sacred  commission,  on  several  former  occa- 
 sions :  Moses  and  Aaron  ;  Elijah  and  Elisha ;  Zerubbabel  and 
 Joshua  ;  all  bearing  their  testimony  in  a  depressed  state  of  the 
 Church. 
 
 Page  18,  line  23. 
 
 "  They  start  refulgent  from  their  transient  death." 
 
 Bp.  Newton  enumerates  several  remarkable  instances,  in 
 which  there  was  a  suppression  of  the  Church's  testimony  for 
 
 G 
 
64  NOTES. 
 
 three  years  and  a  half,  the  space  of  time  supposed  to  be  here 
 prophetically  designated;  instances,  to  which  others  have  since 
 added  the  solemn  suspension  of  public  worship  which  consum- 
 mated the  horrors  of  the  French  Revolution  :  this  last,  how- 
 ever, can  scarcely  be  admitted  as  a  suppression  of  the  genuine 
 testimony.  "  It  may  please  an  over-ruling  Providence,"  as 
 Bp.  Newton  observes, "  so  to  dispose  events,  that  the  afflictions 
 of  the  Church  may  in  some  measure  run  parallel  one  to  another, 
 and  all  the  former  efforts  of  that  tyrannical  and  persecuting 
 power  called  the  beast  may  be  the  types  and  figures  of  this  his 
 last  and  greatest  effort  against  the  witnesses."  The  most 
 approved  conjecture  seems  to  be  that  which  refers  this  sudden, 
 brief,  and  public  triumph  of  Antichrist,  succeeded  by  a  rapid 
 and  glorious  revival  of  the  prostrate  Church,  to  the  eve  of  the 
 millennial  day  :  a  dark  but  a  short  introduction  to  a  scene  of 
 unexampled  beauty  and  blessedness,  like  the  valley  of  the 
 shadow  of  death  ushering  the  individual  christian  into  the 
 celestial  Paradise.  Some,  however,  may  be  disposed  to  follow 
 Lowman  and  Guyse  in  the  opinion  that  the  three  mystical 
 days  and  a  half  correspond  with  the  three  times  and  a  half; 
 (ch.  xii.  14.)  a  day  being  supposed  to  stand  for  a  year  of  360 
 days  or  years,  and  the  import  of  the  passage  to  be  this ;  that, 
 "  while  the  witnesses  shall  fulfil  their  testimony,"  they  shall  be 
 slain  by  the  beast :  as  the  woman  was  to  remain  in  the  wilder- 
 ness, and  the  beast  in  power  1260  days,  so  the  witnesses  were 
 to  prophesy  and  to  be  persecuted  during  the  same  time  :  but 
 after  this  variously  designated  period,  they  shall  revive,  rise, 
 and  ascend  to  a  state  of  power  and  prosperity.  It  seems 
 probable  that  this  last  event  may  be  no  other  than  the  first 
 resurrection  of  the  slain  confessors,  which  is  represented  in  a 
 future  chapter  as  introducing  the  millennial  reign  of  Christ  on 
 earth.    (Ch.  xx.  4,  compared  with  ch.  xi.  11 — 15.) 
 
XOTES.  65 
 
 Page  20,   line  14. 
 u  The  sacred  lamps,  unquench'd  in  coldest  gloom" 
 
 It  is  remarkable  that  the  ancient  official  seal,  still  used  by  the 
 moderator  of  the  "Waldessian  Church,  represents  a  lamp 
 diffusing  its  rays  over  a  field  of  darkness,  in  which  seven  stars 
 appear,  in  supposed  allusion  to  seven  churches  which  formerly 
 existed  in  the  principal  Waldensian  valley  of  Luzerne;  that 
 name  itself  having  been  originally  selected  (it  is  probable)  as 
 denoting  the  Apocalyptic  symbol  of  a  Church.  (Rev.  i.  ult.) 
 
 Page  20,  line  22. 
 "  With  sacred  charm,  your  wild  retreats  I  trod." 
 
 Speaking  of  the  Waldenses,  one,  who  had  more  than  once 
 visited  their  valleys  in  the  true  spirit  of  Christian  benevolence, 
 observes,  in  an  interesting  volume  which  has  just  appeared: 
 "  Viewed  in  connection  with  religion,  their  soil  must  be 
 regarded  as  almost  sacred  ;  their  rocks  and  caves,  their  tem- 
 ples and  their  dwellings,  are  beheld  with  unusual  emotions; 
 and  the  children  of  such  ancestors  seem  peculiarly  entitled  to 
 our  esteem.  On  such  spots,  however  delightful  the  scenery, 
 the  principal  charm  consists  in  the  association  of  all  that 
 presents  itself  to  the  eye,  with  historical  recollections;  con- 
 secrated as  the  territory  has  been,  in  an  almost  unparalleled 
 degree,  by  the  patience  of  the  confessor,  and  the  agony  of  the 
 martyr." — Sims's  Introduction  to  Pe\ra.n's  Historical  Defence 
 of  the  Waldenses.— 182G." 
 
 It  appears  from  a  work  of  the  Bohemian  bishop,  Amos 
 Commenius,  published  in  1641,  that  the  faithful  followers  of 
 Huss,  who  called  themselves  "  United  Brethren/' requested 
 and  obtained  episcopacy  from  the  exiled  Waldenses,  in  the 
 year  14G7.     See  the  above  volume,  p.  501 — 505. 
 
66  NOTES. 
 
 Page  21,  line  12. 
 u  Dante,  Petrarca  !  since  ye  dar'd  record." 
 
 Dante,  in  his  Purgatory,  (Canto  xxxii.)  Petrarch,  in  his  Epis- 
 tles, (Ep.  xvi.)  stigmatise  papal  Rome  as  the  Babylonish  harlot. 
 
 Page  22,  line  5. 
 "  Just  here,  methought,  the  wonderous  visions  clos'd" 
 
 u  The  former  part  of  the  Prophecy  proceeds,  as  we  have 
 seen,  in  a  regular  and  successive  series  from  the  Apostle's  days 
 to  the  consummation  of  all  things.  Nothing  can  be  added,  but 
 it  must  fall  somewhere  within  the  compass  of  this  period :  it 
 must  be  in  some  measure  a  resumption  of  the  same  subjects; 
 and  this  latter  part  may  most  properly  be  considered  as  an 
 enlargement  and  illustration  of  the  former.  It  was  said  that 
 the  beast  should  make  war  against  the  witnesses,  and  overcome  them; 
 but  who  or  what  the  beast  is,  we  may  reasonably  conjecture 
 indeed,  but  the  apostle  himself  will  more  clearly  explain.  The 
 transactions  of  the  seventh  trumpet  are  all  summed  up  in  a 
 few  verses  ;  but  we  shall  see  the  particulars  branched  out  into 
 as  many  chapters.  In  short,  this  latter  part  is  designed  as  a 
 supplement  to  the  former,  to  complete  what  was  deficient,  and 
 to  illustrate  what  was  obscure:  and,  as  the  former  described 
 more  the  destinies  of  the  Roman  empire,  so  this  latter  relates 
 more  to  the  fates  of  the  Christian  Church." — Bp.  Newton. 
 
 We  had  been  taught  that  u  in  the  days  of  the  voice  of  the 
 seventh  angel  the  mystery  of  God  should  be  finished."  (ch. 
 x.  7.)  "  We  are  prepared  to  expect  under  this  trumpet  the 
 description  of  that  conflict  and  victory,  by  which  the  Christian 
 Church  will  be  placed  in  security  from  her  enemies  :  and,  in 
 order  to  exhibit  this  in  all  its  parts,  the  Holy  Spirit  begins  the 
 representation  from  the  earliest  times.  To  enable  us  to  under- 
 stand things  future,  past  events  are  first  represented  under 
 the  same  kind  of  allegory." — Woodhouse. 
 
NOTES.  67 
 
 Page  22,   line  11. 
 "  A  huge  red  dragon,  eager  to  devour/' 
 
 There  seems  to  be  here  a  complex  allusion,  both  to  the  per- 
 secution of  the  male  Israelitish  infants  by  Pharoah,  (Exod.  i. 
 16.)  who  is  called  a  "  dragon  ;"  (Pa.  Ixxiv.  13.  Ezek.  xxix.  3.) 
 and,  also,  more  directly,  to  the  infernal  machination  of  Herod 
 against  the  life  of  the  holy  child  Jesus.  (Matt.  ii.  16.)  When 
 new  Pharaohs  and  Herods,  in  the  Roman  emperors,  afterwards 
 endeavoured  to  destroy  the  members  of  Christ's  mystical 
 body,  it  was  virtually  "Jesus  whom  they  persecuted."  (Acts 
 i\.  4,  5.) 
 
 Page  23,  line  8. 
 a  Behold,  the  child  is  given,  the  son  is  bom." 
 
 The  Church  is  not  complete,  until  she  can  produce  the  seed, 
 promised  to  the  woman  from  the  earliest  times,  which  was 
 ordained  to  "bruise  the  serpent's  head."  She  is  now  repre- 
 sented as  labouring  with  this  momentous  birth  ;  for  the  male 
 child  now  born  is  evidently  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  ii  to 
 M  rule  all  the  nations  with  a  rod  of  iron/'     (Ps.  ii.  9.) 
 
 Page  23,  line  17. 
 "  But  see,  the  woman  to  the  desert  fled" 
 
 The  same  complex  allusion  is  sustained,  to  the  miraculous 
 escape  of  the  Israelites  into  the  wilderness,  with  their  subse- 
 quent preservation  therein  during  forty  years  ;  and  also  to  the 
 Virgin  Mary's  flight  into  Egypt,  "where  she  had  a  place 
 prepared  of  God"  for  an  appointed  period.  (Matt.  ii.  13—15.) 
 This  vision  of  the  woman  and  her  son  may  be  justly  regarded  as 
 an  incidental  confirmation  of  the  miraculous  conception  of 
 Him  who  was  promised,  in  the  beginning,  as  "  the  seed  of 
 the  woman?9  (Gen.  iii.15.)  predicted  as  the  son  of  a  virgin; 
 (Isai.  vii.  14.)  and  designated  as  u  the  Sou  of  God,"  born  of  a 
 G  2 
 
68 
 
 woman:'  (Gal.  iv.  4.)  The  following  lines,  expressive  of  the 
 two-fold  type,  might  have  been  inserted  in  the  Poem  at  the 
 close  of  this  paragraph: 
 
 So,  with  her  rescued  Moses,  Israel  fled 
 Erst  to  the  desert,  there  divinely  fed  : 
 So  fled  the  Virgin,  with  her  holy  child, 
 From  Herod's  murderous  ire  to  Egypt's  wild. 
 
 Page  25,  line  1. 
 "  Loj  eagle-like,  the  Church  still  upward  springs." 
 
 "  As  God  had  said  to  the  children  of  Israel,  (Exod.  xix.  4.) 
 '  I  bare  yon  on  eagles'  wings;'  so  the  Church,  under  the  pro- 
 tection of  the  empire,  was  carried  as  it  were  on  eagles'  wings. 
 But  the  similitude  is  the  more  proper  in  this  case,  an  eagle 
 being  the  Roman  ensign,  and  the  two  wings  alluding  probably 
 to  the  division  that  was  then  made  of  the  eastern  and  western 
 empires." — Bp.  Newton. 
 
 Page  25,  line  12. 
 11  Ten  clustering  horns,  ten  kingly  crowns,  he  wore." 
 
 This  beast  had  ten  horns,  and  was  without  a  name,  like  the 
 fourth  beast  in  Daniel's  vision :  it  resembled  in  various  respects 
 the  other  three  emblematic  beasts  which  that  prophet  had 
 seen  ;  but  it  was  the  same  with  his  fourth  beast,  the  same  em- 
 pire, though  not  in  its  pagan  but  its  papal  form. 
 
 The  two-horned  beast  (the  Romish  hierarchy)  acts  precisely  in 
 the  same  capacity  with  the  Utile  horn  of  Daniel ;  each  exerci- 
 sing the  power  of  the  first  beast  before  him,  and  each  perishing 
 in  one  common  destruction  with  him.  (Compare  Dan.  vii.) 
 
 Page  20,  line  28. 
 "  Bade  the  crush'd  empire  wake  to  life  again. 
 
 u  The  head  of  the  beast,  which  was  wounded  to  death,  repre- 
 sented the  entire  subversion  of  the  imperial  authority,  when 
 
NOTES.  69 
 
 Rome  became  a  dukedom  to  the  exarchate  of  Ravenna.  Five 
 of  the  heads  were  superseded  before  the  Apostle's  time  ;  at  the 
 time  above-mentioned,  the  sixth  would  receive  a  deadly  wound, 
 (ch  xvii.  9 — 14.)  It  was  healed,  however,  by  the  revival  of 
 the  imperial  name  and  dignity  in  the  person  of  Charlemagne, 
 who  was  proclaimed  Augustus,  A.  D.  800  :  and  this  head 
 subsisted  ever  since  in  the  emperors  of  Germany,  or  of  the 
 holy  Roman  empire,  until  subverted  by  recent  revolutions. 
 Some  explain  the  "  deadly  wound"  by  the  revolution  which 
 took  place  when  Christian  emperors  succeeded  to  Pagan  ;  and 
 the  healing  of  this  wound,  by  the  subsequent  establishment  of 
 another  idolatrous  and  persecuting  power,  though  bearing  the 
 Christian  name.  The  two  interpretations  agree  in  the  grand 
 outline." — Scott. 
 
 Page  28,  line  22. 
 "  Number' d  in  Greek,  Lateinos  is  the  same." 
 
 It  is  remarkable  that  Irenreus,  who  had  conversed  with 
 Polycarp,  (the  friend  of  John,  and  "  the  angel  of  the  Church  of 
 Smyrna,")  should  have  proposed  the  most  satisfactory  solution 
 of  this  prophetic  enigma  that  has  yet  been  given.  K  Lateinos 
 habet  dclxvi  numcruni ;  et  valde  verisimile  est,  quoniam 
 novissimum  regnum  hoc  habet  vocabulum :  Latini  enim  sunt 
 qui  nunc  regnant  :  sed  non  in  hoc  nos  gloriabimur."  (Iren. 
 lib.  i.  cap.  30.)  "  In  that  Church,"  as  Dr.  H.  More  well 
 remarks,  "they  Latinize  every  thing."  "In  no  other  word, 
 descriptive  of  the  papal  Roman  empire,  can  such  a  fatal  con- 
 currence of  circumstances  be  found." — Faber. 
 
 i 
 Page  28,  line  25. 
 
 "  The  sum,  six  hundred,  six  Hints  Lit,  and  112." 
 
 "From  what  point  of  time  the  commencement  of  the  IS0O 
 years  is  to  be  dated,  is  not  so  easy  to  determine.  It  ihonld 
 seem  that  they  are  to  be  computed  from  the  lull  establishment  of 
 
70  NOTES. 
 
 the  power  of  the  Pope,  and  no  less  is  implied  in  the  expression, 
 "  given  into  his  hand."  (Dan.  vii.  25.)  Now  the  power  of  the 
 pope,  as  a  horn,  or  temporal  prince,  was  established  in  the 
 eighth  century ;  and  1260  years  from  that  time  will  lead  us 
 down  to  about  the  year  of  Christ  2000,  or  about  the  6000th 
 year  of  the  world:  and  there  is  an  old  tradition,  both  among 
 Jews  and  Christians,  that  at  the  end  of  6000  years,  the  Messiah 
 shall  come,  and  the  world  be  renewed,  the  reign  of  the  wicked 
 one  cease,  and  the  reign  of  the  saints  on  earth  begin.  But 
 when  the  end  shall  come,  then  we  shall  know  better  whence  to 
 date  the  beginning." — Bp.  Newton,  Dissert,  xiv. 
 
 Now  it  is  very  remarkable  that,  if  we  suppose  the  visions  of 
 the  Apocalypse  to  have  been  seen  by  John  about  the  year  89 
 or  90,*  and  from  this  period  compute  666  years  ;  we  arrive  at 
 the  year  755  or  756,  the  very  era  (as  Bp.  Newton  has  shown) 
 from  which  "  the  popes,  being  now  become  temporal  princes, 
 did  no  longer  date  their  epistles  and  bulls  by  the  years  of  the 
 emperor's  reign,  but  by  the  years  of  their  own  advancement  to 
 the  papal  chair. "t  And,  again,  if  from  the  mysterious  number 
 666  we  compute  1335  years,  the  total  period  specified  by  Daniel 
 (ch.  xii.  12.)  as  antecedent  to  the  era  of  blessedness,  we  arrive 
 at  the  year  2001,  the  first  year  of  what  has  been  expected,  (as 
 Bp.  Newton  observes,)  "  according  to  a  very  early  tradition 
 both  of  Jews  and  Christians,"  as  the  millennial  sabbatism  of 
 the  world.  £  Obvious  as  this  remark  may  appear,  the  writer 
 does  not  remember  having  seen  it  stated. 
 
 *  There  seems  to  be  no  material  objection  to  this  date  of  the  visions,  as  their 
 date  must  at  last  rest  on  conjecture :  Domitian,  by  whom  (according  to  Irenaeus) 
 the  apostle  was  banished,  began  his  reign  in  A.  D.  81,  and  died  A.  D.  96. 
 
 t  This  conjecture  may  be  found  in  Grotius,  Calmet,  Lowman,  and  Guyse. 
 It  may  be  deemed  a  somewhat  curious  circumstance  that  pagan  Rome  should 
 have  been  founded  about  the  same  number  of  years  before,  as  papal  Rome 
 was  established  after,  the  Christian  era. 
 
 %  Bp.  Newton,  in  fixing  the  commencement  of  the  1260  years  in  A.  D.  727, 
 with  a  view  to  their  termination  A.  D.  2000,  seems  to  have  forgotten  those 
 additional  periods  of  30  and  45  years,  as  specified  by  Daniel,  which  evidently 
 must  betaken  into  the  account.  (Dissert,  xxvi.) 
 
NOTES.  /I 
 
 Thus  we  obtain  two  conjectural  reasons,  (both  curious,  and 
 the  latter  peculiarly  deserving  attention)  for  the  selection  of  the 
 enigmatical  number  (366,  in  addition  to  the  ancient  solution  by 
 which  its  figures  are  deciphered  into  the  name  Lateinos.  We 
 may  suppose  it  either  to  mark  the  number  of  years,  which 
 would  intervene  between  the  epoch  of  the  visions,  and  the 
 establishment  of  the  secular  papal  authority;  or  more  simply, 
 and  more  probably,  to  mark  the  date  from  which  we  are  to 
 compute  the  great  prophetic  period  ot  ecclesiastical  apostacy 
 and  adversity,  comprehending  in  its  total  extent  1335  years. 
 According  to  the  latter  hypothesis,  the  1260  years,  the  princi- 
 pal portion  of  this  period,  must  be  supposed  to  terminate  in 
 A.  D.  1926 ;  (a  century  beyond  the  present  year,)  or  60  years 
 later  than  the  more  commonly  proposed  year  1866:  the  second 
 period,  that  of  1290  years,  will  then  extend  to  the  year  1956  ; 
 and  the  third,  or  that  of  1335  years,  to  the  year  2001.  What- 
 ever may  be  thought  of  this  hypothesis,  it  comes  recommended 
 to  our  consideration  by  scriptural  data  and  perfect  simplicity; 
 while  the  existing  signs  of  Providence,  in  the  writer's  humble 
 apprehension,  countenance  the  latter,  in  preference  to  the 
 earlier,  termination  of  the  afflictive  periods  preparatory  to 
 the  millennial  triumph  of  Christianity. 
 
 It  is  remarkable  that  Gregory  I.  at  the  close  of  the  sixth 
 century,  in  a  famous  dispute  with  the  aspiring  bishop  of  Con- 
 stantinople, impeaches  his  assumption  of  the  title  "Universal 
 Bishop,''  as  a  symptom  of  approaching-  Antichrist.  '•  Quisquis 
 se  universalem  sacerdotem  vocat,  vei  vocari  desiderat,  in 
 elatione  snkAjit  (christian  prcecurrit : — in  hac  ejus  superbia,  quid 
 aliud  nisi  propinqua  jam  Antichristi  esse  tempora  designatur  r" 
 Greg.  Epist.  xxx.  et  xxxiv. 
 
 If  we  can  allow  a  semblance  of  prophetic  sagacity  to  this 
 announcement  of  Gregory,  it  countenances  the  opinion  that 
 we  are  to  date  the  established  reign  of  the  Beast  from  the  above 
 era.  Those  who  incline,  with  the  writer,  to  adopt  this  hypo- 
 thesis, must  relinquish  the  more  popular  era  A.  D.  606,  as  the 
 
72  NOTES. 
 
 commencement  of  the  1260  or  the  1335  years ;  and,  instead  of 
 computing  these  years  from  the  rise,  must  compute  them  from 
 the  establishment,  of  the  papal  power. 
 
 In  addition  to  the  above  remarks,  illustrative  of  the  mys- 
 terious number  666,  it  has  been  suggested  that  the  number  6 
 may  possibly  be  here  introduced,  with  a  triple  reiteration,  as 
 the  symbol  of  imperfection,  in  opposition  to  7,  so  often  signali- 
 zed in  this  Prophecy  as  the  scriptural  emblem  of  sabbatic 
 completion. 
 
 Page  33,  line  10. 
 "  Tic o  hundred  miles  the  length  of  either  tract.'1 
 
 It  is  remarkable,  as  Mede  has  observed,  that  the  state  of  the 
 Roman  Church,  extending  from  Rome  to  the  Po,  measures  200 
 miles,  or  1600  furlongs.  Palestine  is  also  the  same  in  length  ; 
 and  some  identify  this  vintage  with  the  slaughter  at  Arma- 
 geddon. (See  Isai.  lxiii.  1 — 6.) 
 
 Page  33,  line  18. 
 "  I  saw  a  sea  of  crystal  mix* d  with  fire" 
 
 "The  sea  of  glass"  seems  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  Red  Sea, 
 which  stood  like  a  crystal  wall,  while  the  Israelites  walked 
 over  it.  The  fall  of  Babylon  answers  to  the  ruin  of  Pharaoh's 
 host;  the  song  and  the  harps,  to  the  song  of  Moses,  and  the 
 harps  of  Miriam  and  her  train.  (Exod.xv.)  The  waves  flash- 
 ing flame  may  be  symbolically  expressive  of  the  vengeance 
 which  now  begins  to  be  poured  out. 
 
 Page  34,  line  16. 
 "  Pour  on  the  earth  your  cups  of  seven-fold  woe!" 
 
 Amidst  the  difficulties  which  attend  this  part  of  the  prophecy, 
 the  writer  has  inclined  to  adopt  the  hypothesis  of  Mede,  though 
 
NOTES.  73 
 
 rejected  by  Bp.  Newton,  Scott,  and  Woodhouse ;  viz.  the  dis- 
 charge of  the  former  six  vials  under  the  sixth  trumpet,  and 
 the  introduction  of  the  seventh  vial  with  the  seventh  trumpet, 
 as  constituting  it  emphatically  the  last  woe.  It  is  generally 
 known  that  Fleming,  at  the  opening  of  the  last  century, 
 conjectured  that  the  fourth  vial  would  be  discnarged  on  the 
 French  empire  about  the  year  179-1,  when  the  revolutionary 
 war  had  newly  commenced.  The  sixth  vial  on  the  Euphrates 
 seems  to  coincide  with  the  close  of  the  sixth  trumpet  which 
 had  let  loose  the  Euphratean  horsemen.  Yet  others,  with 
 President  Edwards,  will  interpret  the  drought  of  the  Eu- 
 phrates, in  a  prophecy  concerning  the  destruction  of  the  new 
 or  mystic  Babylon,  to  signify  the  drying  up  the  resources  and 
 supplies  of  the  Romish  Church.  Or,  to  adopt  the  more  com- 
 prehensive view  of  Woodhouse;  "  Antichrist,  in  both  his 
 horns  or  branches,  (one  of  which  is  now  seated  on  the  Eu- 
 phrates, and  the  other  is  scripturally  known  by  the  name  of 
 that  Babylon  which  wras  formerly  seated  there,)  must  probably 
 be  removed,  before  the  eastern  nations  with  their  kings  can 
 flow  into  the  Church  of  Christ. " — The  seventh  vial  is  accom- 
 panied by  the  emphatic  acclamation,  "  It  is  done;"  as  it  had 
 been  announced  that,  under  the  seventh  trumpet, "  the  mystery 
 of  God  should  be  finished."  (ch.  x.  7.)  The  same  acclamation 
 is  repeated,  apparently  by  the  same  seventh  angel,  when  the 
 establishment  of  the  New  Jerusalem  is  announced,  (ch.  xxi. 
 9,  10.)  There  is  a  striking  resemblance  between  the  aweful 
 accompaniments  of  the  seventh  trumpet, — the  voices,  the  hail, 
 and  the  earthquake,  (ch.  xi.  15 — 19.) — and  those  of  the  seventh 
 vial.— In  the  mention  of  "  the  kings  of  the  east,"  may  there 
 not  be  an  allusion  to  the  predictions  of  "  the  kings  of  Sheba 
 and  Seba  bringing  gifts ;"  (Ps.  lxxii.  10.  Isai.  lx.  3,  G.)  and 
 also  to  the  eastern  Magi,  whose  "  way  was  prepared"  at  the 
 time  of  the  Redeemer's  first  coming  ? 
 
74  NOTES*  , 
 
 Page  36,  line  18. 
 "  Whether,  Mahommed  falVn,  the  royal  bands* 
 
 "  About  the  time  of  the  fall  of  the  Othman  empire  and  the 
 western  Antichrist,  the  Jews  will  turn  to  the  Lord,  and  be 
 restored  to  their  own  land.  Innumerable  are  the  prophecies 
 concerning  this  event.  It  is,  I  conceive,  to  these  great  events, 
 the  fall  of  Antichrist,  the  restoration  of  the  Jews,  and  the 
 beginning  of  the  glorious  millennium,  that  the  three  different 
 dates  in  Daniel,  of  1260,  1290,  and  1335  years  are  to  be 
 referred." — Bp.  Newton. 
 
 Page  37,  line  15. 
 "  Swift,  silent,  like  a  thief,  I  come  !  beware  !" 
 
 The  abrupt  parenthetic  warning,  "  Behold,  I  come  as  a 
 thief/'  forcibly  intimates  the  rapidity  and  unexpectedness  of 
 Christ's  judicial  and  triumphant  advent  to  destroy  Antichrist 
 in  every  form,  whether  papal,  Mahommedan,  or  infidel.  This 
 great  crisis  appears  to  fall  near  the  close  of  the  1260  years' 
 or  perhaps  during  the  intervals  of  the  30  and  45  years  added  by 
 Daniel  as  preparatory  to  the  period  of  consummation  and 
 beatitude.  (Dan.  xii.)  The  death  and  resurrection  of  the  wit- 
 nesses may  be  yet  in  reserve  for  this  part  of  the  Prophecy. 
 (Ch.  xi.  7.)  The  chronology  makes  a  pause  after  the  effusion 
 of  the  seventh  vial  ;  nor  does  it  resume  its  progress  until  the 
 eleventh  verse  of  chapter  xix.  what  intervenes  being  merely 
 an  illustrative  enlargement  on  the  calamities  of  the  seventh  vial. 
 The  seventeenth  chapter  is  omitted  in  the  Poem,  as  having 
 been  substantially  anticipated  in  the  thirteenth. 
 
 Page  38,  line  8. 
 u  Fall'n  is  that  city,  profligate  and  proud!" 
 
 A  deviation  from  the  narrative  into  the  lyric  measure  of 
 poetry  seemed  appropriate  on  the  introduction  of  this  tri- 
 
NOTES.  75 
 
 umphal  ode.  As  the  song  of  Moses,  on  the  destruction  of 
 Pharaoh,  had  been  alluded  to  in  ch.  xv.  so  here  the  sublime 
 prophecies  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah,  on  the  desolation  of  the 
 ancient  and  literal  Babylon,  (Isai.  ch.  xiii.  and  xiv.  Jer. 
 ch.  1.  and  li.)  are  applied  to  that  of  the  modern  and  mystical, 
 intermingled  with  allusions  to  Ezekiel's  prediction  of  the 
 tall  of  Tyre.  (ch.  xxvi.  xxvii.  xxviii.) 
 
 Page  40,  line  11. 
 "  The  bodies,  and  the  souls,  of  men  IT 
 
 The  climax  in  this  passage  is  striking,  and  the  satire  severe ; 
 the  prophet  rises  from  inanimate  things  to  animated,  and  at 
 last  arrives  at  human  bodies  and  immortal  souls.  We  are 
 reminded  of  the  ancient  satirist's  "  Romae  omnia  venalia," 
 as  applicable,  in  an  infinitely  more  awful  import,  to  the  papal 
 than  the  pagan  capital.  Can  we  avoid  recollecting  the  pur- 
 gatory, the  penances,  the  commutations,  the  indulgences, 
 made  saleable  by  that  "  Mother  of  abominations"  who,  in  a 
 recent  papal  decree,  has  been  styled,  with  a  strange  and  blas- 
 phemous absurdity,  "  the  pride  of  the  Lamb  V* 
 
 Page  40,  line  22. 
 M  Joy  anew,  ye  sainted  legions!" 
 
 The  blissful  consciousness  of  the  saint6,  during  the  inter- 
 mediate state,  is  implied  in  this  passage,  as  it  is  in  several 
 others  of  this  book. — See  ch.  vi.  9 — 11.  ch.  vii.  9 — ult. 
 ch.  xiv.   13. 
 
 Page  42,  line  22. 
 "  Heaven  opening  shows  a  steed  of  snow-white  hue" 
 
 li  We  are  now  arrived  at  that  signal  and  expected  point  of 
 the  prophecy,  to  which  the  preceding  parts  principally  tend, 
 
76  NOTES. 
 
 and  in  which  they  have  their  completion  :  the  grand  and 
 decisive  combat  between  the  Christian  and  Antichristian 
 powers.  Here  the  seven  seals,  seven  trumpets,  seven  vials, 
 and  all  their  accompanying  warnings,  unite.  Heaven  opens, 
 and  the  same  white  horse  appears,  whom  we  saw  proceeding  on 
 his  course  of  victory,  in  the  early  part  of  the  vision ;  whose 
 rider  "went  forth  conquering,  and  to  conquer/'  (ch.  vi.  i.) 
 He  has  been  pursuing  his  destined  course,  though  not  always 
 in  sight :  he  now  re-appears  in  more  splendid  array /%— 
 Woodhouse. 
 
 Page  45,  line  3. 
 "  Resurgent,  lo,  the  spirits  of  the  dead," 
 
 The  subject  of  "  the  first  resurrection/'  like  every  unful- 
 filled intimation  of  prophecy,  is  involved  in  deep  obscurity. 
 Much  may  be  urged  from  the  Scriptures  in  favour  of  that 
 literal  interpretation,  which  has  been  ably  advocated  by  Mede 
 and  Bishop  Newton,  and  for  which  they  have  cited  several 
 remarkable  passages  from  the  earlier  Christian  fathers.  It  is 
 attended^  however,  by  objections,  which  have  induced  the 
 majority  of  modern  interpreters  to  prefer  the  figurative  sense  : 
 on  this  side  of  the  argument,  the  inquirer  may  consult  with 
 advantage,  President  Edwards,  (Hist,  of  Redemption)  toge- 
 ther with  the  annotations  of  Vitringa,  Whitby,  Guyse,  Dod- 
 dridge, Lowman,  or  Scott.  On  no  subject  of  scriptural 
 inquiry,  can  soberness,  modesty,  and  candour,  be  more  wise 
 and  graceful. 
 
 Page  45,  line  6. 
 "  Live  with  their  Lord  those  thousand  years,  and  reign/' 
 
 There  is  something  peculiarly  plausible  in  the  expectation  of 
 a  sabbatic  millennium,  succeeding  to  the  six  thousand  years  of 
 the  labouring  creation ;  yet  (as  the  prophe tic  year  has  in  all  other 
 
NOTES.  /  / 
 
 instances  a  very  different  extent  from  the  literal)  many  may 
 be  inclined,  with  Guyse,  to  understand  the  millennial  reign  of 
 Christ  on  earth,  as  merely  an  indefinite  period  of"  many  gene- 
 rations." (Isai.  lx.  15,  &c.)  In  the  corresponding  description 
 of  the  seventh  trumpet,  it  is  said  that  Christ  "  shall  reign  for 
 ever  and  ever."  (xi.  15.) 
 
 Page  45,   line  7. 
 u  Not  so  the  rest :  they  rise  to  life  no  more." 
 
 "There  is  mention  made  in  this  prophecy  of  two  sorts  of 
 dead  persons  ;  those  who  were  slain  for  the  testimony  of 
 Jesus,  (xx.  4.)  and  those  who  were  slain  by  the  sword  of  Him 
 who  sate  on  the  white  horse,  (xix.  ult.)  The  latter  are  here 
 called  the  rest  of  the  dead,  as  also  in  the  close  of  the  preceding 
 chapter.  This  interpretation  suits  the  style  of  the  book,  and 
 is  to  me  perfectly  satisfactory." — Scott. 
 
 Page  48,  line  14. 
 "  A  new  creation  rising ; — past  the  first" 
 
 "  Many,  I  know,  both  ancients  and  moderns,  make  the 
 millennium  synchronise  with  the  new  heaven  and  earth  ;  and 
 some  latitude  of  interpretation  may  well  be  allowed  in  these 
 mysterious  points  of  futurity  ;  but  a  different  order  of  things, 
 and  interpretation  of  the  words,  appear  to  me  the  most  natural, 
 and  most  agreeable  to  the  context." — Bp.  Newton. 
 
 The  first  heaven  and  earth  passed  away,  after  the  thousand 
 years,  at  the  general  judgment ;  (ch.  xx.  11.  and  xxi.  1.)  but 
 why  should  the  new  be  destroyed,  when  there  shall  be  no  more 
 sin?  Gog  and  Magog  are  deceived  by  Satan  after  the  thousand 
 years;  but  they  are  not  inhabitants  of  the  new  heaven  and 
 earth.  The  new  Jerusalem  is  indeed  represented  as  "  coming 
 down  from  God  out  of  heaven  ;"  but  this  may  simply  relate 
 to  its  visionary  portrait  or  model,  as  descending  thence  to 
 
78 
 
 NOTES* 
 
 the  apostle,  just  as  the  mystic  sheet  descended  to  Peter  : 
 (Acts  x.  11.)  or  it  may  imply  no  more  than  that  it  is  a  city  which 
 "  is  from  heaven,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God"  "  Or  if H  as 
 Guyse  observes,  "  the  description  be  supposed  to  have  any 
 relation  to  the  millennium,  it  can  be  only  to  what  will  then 
 be  fulfilled  in  part,  as  a  lively  figure  of  what  will  be  much 
 more  gloriously  completed  in  the  heavenly  state." 
 
 "The  New  Jerusalem,  the  true  Church  of  Christ,  subsists 
 as  well  during  the  millennial  kingdom,  as  after  it.  At  the 
 commencement  of  that  kingdom,  it  was  said,  "The  bride  hath 
 made  herself  ready :"  at  the  conclusion,  the  nations  go  up 
 against  "  the  beloved  city"  and  here  it  is  represented  as  the 
 metropolis  of  the  new  creation.  The  New  Jerusalem  shall 
 be  the  habitation  of  the  saints,  both  of  the  first,  and  of  the 
 general  resurrection.  The  church  of  Christ  shall  be  glorious 
 upon  earth  during  the  millennium,  and  shall  be  more  glorious 
 still  in  the  new  earth  after  the  millennium  to  all  eternity." — 
 Bp.  Newton. 
 
 In  conformity  with  a  sentiment  expressed  in  a  preceding 
 page,  that  the  most  comprehensive  is  generally  the  most  probable 
 interpretation  of  Prophecy,  we  shall  not  deviate  far  from  the 
 truth,  if  we  suppose  that  millennial  imagery  is  here  employed 
 in  illustration  of  the  celestial  and  eternal  economy  ;  and  that, 
 in  this  respect,  the  prophet's  eye  "  doth  glance  from  heaven 
 to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven/'  while  he  gives,  to  u  things 
 unknown,  a  local  habitation  and  a  name."  Such  a  view  of 
 the  last  and  most  interesting  portion  of  Prophecy  harmonises 
 in  a  beautiful  analogy  with  the  general  character  and  gradual 
 improvement  of  the  Divine  dispensations.  The  church  of 
 God  is  exhibited  as  advancing  through  the  successive  stages 
 of  the  Patriarchal,  Levitical,  Prophetical,  Evangelical,  and 
 Millennial  economies  to  the  state  of  her  celestial  consum- 
 mation. "  The  light  of  the  moon  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the 
 sun,  and  the  light  of  the  sun  shall  be  sevenfold,  as  the  light  of 
 seven  days,  in  the  day  when  the  Lord  bindeth  up  the  breach 
 
NOTES.  79 
 
 of  his  people,  and  healeth  the  stroke  of  their  wound/'  (Isai. 
 xxx.  26.) 
 
 In  the  attempt  to  explore  a  subject  equally  mysterious  and 
 interesting,  if  we  may  be  excused  for  indulging  a  detailed,  and 
 perhaps  a  too  imaginative,  comparison  between  the  features  of 
 the  two  leading  dispensations  of  God  to  his  Church;  (I  Cor.  x. 
 1 — II.)  we  may  suppose  the  simplicity  of  the  Patriarchal  state 
 to  correspond  with  the  primitive  age  of  Christianity ;  the 
 protracted  captivity  of  Israel  in  Egypt,  with  the  yet  more 
 protracted  depression  of  the  Christian  witnesses  during  the 
 reign  of  papal  apostacy  ;  (Rev.  xi.  8.)  the  deliverance  of 
 Israel  at  the  Red  Sea,  and  their  guidance  through  the  wilder- 
 ness, with  the  protestant  Reformation  in  its  first  triumph  and 
 its  retarded  progress;  the  destruction  of  the  hostile  nations, 
 introductory  to  the  quiet  possession  of  Canaan,  with  the  de- 
 struction of  Antichrist,  introductory  to  the  millennial  reign  of 
 the  Church. — Or  may  the  plagues  of  Egypt,  introducing  the 
 deliverance  of  Israel  at  the  close  of  430  years,  (Exod.  xii.41.) 
 be  supposed  to  correspond  more  accurately  with  the  vials  of 
 wrath  discharged  on  the  mystical  Egypt,  and  introducing  the 
 deliverance  of  the  Christian  Church  at  the  close  of  Daniel's  1290 
 (thrice  430)  years  ?  The  sojourn  of  Israel  in  the  wilderness 
 must,  in  this  case,  be  regarded  as  an  obscure  prefiguration  of 
 that  millennial  state,  during  which  l<  the  tabernacle  of  God  is 
 with  men  ;"  and  the  destruction  of  the  hostile  nations,  immedi- 
 ately preceding  the  repose  of  Israel  in  the  promised  land,  must 
 find  its  correspondence  in  the  final  destruction  of  those  hostile 
 nations  which  u  compass  the  camp  of  the  saints, "  just  before 
 the  introduction  of  the  celestial  Canaan  :  Joshua  being  the 
 prescribed  representative  of  Jesus,  the  armed  conqueror  on 
 the  white  horse.     (Rev.  xx.  8,  9.  comp,  Heb.  iv.  8,  9.) 
 
 In  a  different  view  of  the  subject,  the  obscurity  of  the 
 Mosaic  Law,  succeeded  by  the  superior  illumination  of 
 the  prophets,  may  perhaps  be  conjectured  to  prefigure  the 
 
SO  NOTES. 
 
 more  clouded  scenes  of  Christianity,  as  even  yet  to  be  suc- 
 ceeded by  that  age  of  ecclesiastical  glory  which  the  prophets 
 so  brightly  anticipated  ;  and  the  interval  silence  and  dege- 
 neracy, which  intervened  between  the  close  of  Prophecy,  and 
 the  opening  of  the  Gospel  as  the  new  creation,  or  the  heavenly 
 Jerusalem,  (Isai.  Ixv.  17.  lxvi.  22.  Heb.  xii.22.)  ushered 
 in  by  the  judicial  destruction  of  Jerusalem, — may  be  allowed 
 to  remind  us  of  the  dark  interim,  the  final  apostacy,  inter- 
 posed between  the  close  of  the  thousand  years,  and  the  opening 
 of  the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth,  or  of  the  new  Jerusalem 
 ushered  in  by  the  destruction  of  the  former  creation,  and  by 
 the  final  judgment.  (Rev.  xx.  7 — ult.  xxi.  1.)— Something 
 mysteriously  similar  to  the  outline  of  this  interrupted  pro- 
 gression is  discoverable  in  the  successive  characters  of  those 
 seven  apocalyptic  churches,  which  have  been  supposed  by 
 some  to  present  a  prefigurative  portraiture  of  the  Christian 
 Church  in  its  destined  vicissitudes.  Omitting  the  particulars 
 of  the  resemblance,  it  may  suffice  to  remind  the  intelligent 
 reader  that,  after  the  several  stages  of  decline  from  Ephesian 
 devotedness  to  Sardian  deadness,  the  prosperity  of  Philadel- 
 phia is  succeeded,  and  the  scene  of  those  churches  closed,  by 
 the  gloomy  contrast  of  Laodicea.  (See  Rev.  ii.  and  iii.  with 
 Marg.  Ref.) 
 
 It  is  reasonable  to  expect  a  general  analogy  and  corres- 
 pondence between  the  features  of  Providence,  as  developed 
 in  its  conduct  of  the  ancient,  and  in  that  of  the  Christian 
 "  Israel  of  God  :"  and  the  pervading  adoption  of  Israelitish 
 imagery  in  the  apocalyptic  visions  suggests  or  countenances 
 such  an  expectation.  In  comparing  the  two  grand  portions 
 of  Providence,  as  exhibited  in  the  vicissitudes  of  the  Church, 
 from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  time  ;  and  as  described,  the 
 former  portion  in  the  style  of  sacred  history,  the  latter  in  that 
 of  prophetic  visions;  we  must  be  content  to  know  in  part,  and 
 see  through  a  glass  darkly :  there  may  be.  a  basis  of  reality, 
 though  much  obscured  by  the  clouds  of  mystery.  How  large 
 a  proportion  of  the  inspired  pages  must  we  cease  to  study 
 
NOTES.  SI 
 
 with  that  interest  which  they  so  well  merit  and  reward  ;  if, 
 where  we  cannot  obtain  the  perfect  view,  we  despise  the 
 indistinct  glimpses,  of  Divine  truth;  and,  in  exploring  " the 
 manifold  wisdom  of  God  in  the  Church/'  can  be  satisfied  with 
 nothing  less  than  the  precision  and  perspicuity  of  demon- 
 stration !  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  above  conjectural 
 comparison,  which  the  writer  has  ventured  to  suggest,  rather 
 as  curious  than  important ;  it  is  in  no  degree  connected  with 
 the  interpretations  of  Prophecy  proposed  in  the  preceding 
 pages. 
 
 Page  48,  line  20. 
 11  That  holy  city,  New  Jerusalem!" 
 
 The  Bride,  the  holy  city,  the  New  Jerusalem,  is  presented 
 as  a  bright  contrast  to  the  Harlot,  the  corrupt  city,  Babylon: 
 and  it  appears  that  the  same  angel,  who  had  exhibited  the 
 former,  now  exhibits  the  latter  to  the  prophet's  view.  (Comp. 
 ch.  xvii.  1,  and  ch.  xxi.  9.)  This  exhibition  of  the  New  Jeru- 
 salem as  succeeding  to  the  destruction  of  the  persecuting 
 Babylon,  seems  to  contain  a  retrospective  allusion  to  the 
 ancient  history  of  the  cities  which  bore  these  names.  Jeru- 
 salem, having  been  taken  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  "  sate  solitary 
 as  a  widow/'  (Lam.  i.  1.)  during  seventy  years,  while  Baby- 
 lon reigned  as  a  queen,  "  the  lady  of  kingdoms. "  (Isai.  xlvii.  5.) 
 But  when  Cyrus  conquered  Babylon,  that  city  became  in  its 
 turn  desolate  :  and,  while  Babylon  thus  declined,  the  New 
 Jerusalem  arose  under  the  auspices  of  Cyrus  and  Artaxerxes, 
 by  the.  efforts  of  Ezra  and  Nehemiah.  In  apparent  allusion 
 to  these  events  as  the  groundwork  of  the  allegory,  the  fall  of 
 the  mystical  Babylon,  or  the  apostate  Church,  is  first  de- 
 scribed ;  (ch.  xiv.  to  xix.  inclus.)  and,  after  this,  the  prophet 
 proceeds  to  pourtray  the  prosperity  of  the  Christian  Church, 
 adopting  Jerusalem  for  its  emblem,  as  another  apostle  had 
 before  done.  (Gal.  iv.  26.    Heb.  xii.  22.) 
 
82  NOTES. 
 
 It  may  be  farther  observed  that  the  restored  Jerusalem  was 
 displaced  by  the  arrival  of  its  antitype,  the  Christian  Church  ; 
 "  the  latter  house"  disappeared  with  its  ¥.  greater  glory," 
 when  the  Lord  had  suddenly  come  to  his  temple :  and  the 
 New  Jerusalem  on  ear'.h,  the  millennial  Church  with  all  its 
 glory,  (ch.  xx.)  is  represented  as  giving  place,  at  the  sudden 
 and  final  advent  of  the  Lord,  to  the  New  Jerusalem  above  ; 
 the  preparatory  emblem  retiring  before  its  nobler  and  con- 
 summate reality,  (ch.  xxi.  xxii.) 
 
 Page  52,  line  14. 
 "  John's  own  embodied  vision/ " 
 
 *'  Let  the  reader  picture  to  his  conception  an  evening  sun, 
 behind  the-  towering  cliffs  of  Patmos,  gilding,  the  battlements 
 of  the  Monastery  of  the  Apocalypse  with  its  parting  rays  ;  the 
 consecrated  island,  surrounded  by  inexpressible  brightness, 
 seeming  to  float  upon  an  abyss  of  fire,  and  reminding  us  of 
 that  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  firey  which  the  inspired  Apostle 
 beheld.  (Rev.  xv.  2.)"— Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke's  Travels. 
 
 Page  52,  line  26. 
 i*  Loveliest  at  last :  I  see  the  dawning  signs." 
 
 It  is  almost  superfluous  to  mention  that  "  the  dawning 
 signs,"  to  which  the  writer  refers,  are  to  be  found  in  those 
 enlarged  exertions  and  successes  in  the  diffusion  of  Christi- 
 anity over  the  most  neglected  parts  of  the  earth,  which  so 
 happily  signalize  the  present  age,  above  every  other  since 
 that  of  the  Apostles,  as  the  era  of  Christian  Missions. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Cbilcott,  Printer,  Bristol. 
 
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