7 
 
 >3 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.? 
 
 
 UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. { 
 
>• '&.& 
 
 >»t^ 
 
j»««. V 
 
 \V 
 
PROVIDENCE 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 (Oil 
 
 BY SAMUEL J. CASSELS. 
 
 No leap, no fall j 
 No effort, no success at all. 
 
 MACON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY GRIFFIN &. PURSE. 
 
 1838. 
 
?S I2tf 
 
 Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the year 1838. 
 
 By S. J. Cassels. 
 In the Clerk's Office^pf 4 the District Court of Georgia. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE OFFICEHS AND MEMBERS OF THE 
 
 Alumni Association of Franklin College, Georgia* 
 
 Gextle3iex — Permit one of your number, from 
 the high veneration he entertains for the objects of your 
 Society, and the great respect in which he holds your- 
 selves, to dedicate to you, the following volume of Poems, 
 He could desire to present you with a better offering ; 
 but, it is such as he has. That your Fraternity may 
 long prosper, and be a means of promoting greatly, the 
 Literature of oar common Republic, is the sincere desire 
 of your fellow-member, 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
 Macon, April 5th, 1838. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page 53, 12th line from top, for ' then ' read ■ there.* 
 
 Page 56, 12th line, from top, for ■ virtuous * read ■ virtuous* ' 
 
 Page 70, 5th line from top, for * grow ' read * glow.* 
 
 Page 96, 5th line from top, for l 'is ' read ' 'tis.' 
 
 Page 102, 7 th line from top, for * windows ' read * widows.' 
 
 Page 121, 10th line from top, for 'substited' read Substituted.' 
 
 Page 162, 7th line from top, for * Guidance ' read * Evidence.' 
 
 Page 163, 10th line from bottom, for ' land ' read * ground.' 
 
 Page 177, 3d line foom top, for ' least ' read * heart.' 
 
 Page 179, 8th tine from bottom, for * has' read ' had.' 
 
 Page 225, 4th line from bottom, for 'Dove,' read ' Lave.' 
 
 Page 226, 4th line from top, for ' care ' read • cure.* 
 
 Page 227, 3d line, from top, for ' commenc'd ' read ' commun'd.' 
 
 Page 227, 3d line from bottom, for ' dependent ' read 'despondent.' 
 
 Page 228, 10th line from bottom, for ' did' read ' died.' 
 
 Page 228, last line, for ' calls ' read ' call.' 
 
 Page 235, 3d line from top, for ' sight * read ' night.' 6th line, for 
 
 'many' read 'man/ 
 Page 315, 6th line from top, for ' steal ' read 'steals.' 
 Page 318, 15th line from top, for ' laws ' read ' law.' 
 Page 319, 8th line from top, for ' lighted ' read 'tighted.* 
 Page 325, 8th line from top, for ' the * read 'their,' and for 'lambs ' read 
 
 ' limbs.' 
 Page 325, 9th line from bottom, for 'balance just ' read 'equilibrium.' 
 Page 341 , 4th line from top, for ' the ' read ' their.' 
 Page 353, 14th line from top, for ' one of two ' read ' of one two.' 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Lxtkoductohy Essay, - - . 13 
 
 PART I. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Smaller and Early Productions. 
 
 Adress to the American Muse, - - - - 23 
 
 Southern Literature, - - - 26 
 
 Myself, ... 27 
 
 The Little Dove and the Two {lawks, - - S2 
 
 A Poet's Reflection?, ... 34 
 
 The Weeping Bard, - - 39 
 
 A Fragment, 41 
 
 Verses for the Fourth of July, - . 42 
 
 Vanity of Fame, ... 44 
 
 Youthful Hope, - - - - 45 
 
 The Withered Rose, 46 
 
 The Gloomy Spirit, - - - 48 
 
 The Idle Mule, . . 49 
 
 A Comparison, - - . - 52 
 
 Man, 52 
 
Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Man, a Thought, 
 
 Lines Written in Assembly, 
 
 An Evening Thought, 
 
 Midnight, - 
 
 The Tears of Virtue, 
 
 There is Joy in Tears, 
 
 To a Town Clock, 
 
 A Smile, 
 
 Sweet Hour of Prayer, 
 
 Written for an Album, 
 
 Written for an Album, 
 
 Written for an Album, 
 
 Written for an Album, 
 
 To a Young Friend, 
 
 Natural and Moral Beauty, 
 
 To a Friend at parting, 
 
 To a Friend at Parting, 
 
 To a Friend at Parting, 
 
 Written for an Album, 
 
 To a Young Friend. The Bible, 
 
 To Melda, 
 
 To a Babe, 
 
 The Rainy Sabbath, 
 
 Africa, 
 
 Death of Pliny Fiske, 
 
 The Father's Death, 
 
 Death of a Child, 
 
 My Mother's Grave, 
 
 The Grave, 
 
 53 
 53 
 53 
 55 
 
 56 
 57 
 
 58 
 
 eo 
 
 6) 
 63 
 63 
 64 
 65 
 65 
 67 
 69 
 70 
 71 
 72 
 75 
 76 
 73 
 80 
 81 
 83 
 85 
 87 
 88 
 9Q 
 
 BOOK II. 
 Laeger Pieces, 
 
 Retaliation ; a Satire, 
 Canoochee, or Childhood Revived, 
 the Bereaved Parent, a Dialogue, 
 
 95 
 103 
 112 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 Adolphus, in Six Cantos, - • - 119 
 
 PART II. 
 
 FROVISEXCEi 
 
 BOOK L 
 
 Atheism and Idolatry, 171 
 
 BOOK II. 
 The Divine Sovereignty, ..... 187 
 
 BOOK III. 
 The Church, - - 207 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 Divine Providence towards the Church, from the Creation to the 
 
 Advent of Christ, ..... 233 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 Divine Providence towards the Church, from the Advent of 
 
 Christ, to the present time, .... 253 
 
CONTEXTS. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 Divine Sovereignty as Displayed in Nature, and the various ob- 
 jects of Human Science, ----- 273 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 Divine Sovereignty over Human Governments, together with 
 
 Remarks on Government, - - - - 315 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 The World is Contemplated Prospectively, and the General 
 
 Judgment Described, .... - 325 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The writer of the following Poem?, began to scribble, at an early 
 age, his devotional feelings, in sacred song. Afterward?, the wood- 
 land scenery that environs the University of his native State, as 
 it put on its flowery robes in spring, drew from him an cceasicnal 
 verse The earliest of these, of which some were read Lefcre the 
 Faculty and Students, have perished. Of the few preserved, the piece 
 entitled 'The Withered Rose,' is the most ancient. This was written 
 in the spring of 1325. ' The Grave,' was written about the same time. 
 As to other smaller pieces, they were mostly extracted from him hy 
 the demand of the Fair, for their albums. And had it not been for this 
 circumstance, he had probably ceased composing verse altogether ; for, 
 during his collegiate term, he had taken up the idee, that it was 
 unmanly and unphilosophical, to court the Muses. 
 
 In reference to ' Providence,' it is the result of a desire entertained by 
 the author after leaving the University, of raising some monument to the 
 B^ing who had controlled his early history in so remarkable a manner. 
 He knew of no other way to raise such a trophy, but by succeeding in 
 Eome brief, immortal verce. And though diffidence might restrain the un- 
 dertaking, yetgratitude was stronger than diffidence. He be^an. At in* 
 tervals he continued : and the work has assumed its present shape. 
 Not even yet^Jiowever, is it what he designed it to he. The very part 
 which was to have contained his principal object, has been left out. It 
 has, too, been written at such remote intervals of time, that he fears it 
 will lack much of unity, both as to style and sentiment. It is, howev- 
 er, a sincere and grateful effort to illustrate one of the most practical 
 and important of all truths — the Sovereignty of Divine Providence, 
 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 Severn! of these Poems will readily be associated, with that state of 
 hope and despondency, so natural to young authors. There is one 
 of these, however, in which the author seems to lay aside timidity, and 
 to speak in the language of stem rebuke : he alludes to the Satire, 
 1 nat piece was written, it is confessed, in a moment of poetic ire. lt» 
 however, designs no personalities ; but is meant to chastise that litera- 
 ry apathy, which hangs upon our who'e society, as a mental incubus* 
 The disease is an inveterate one, and the author has dealt in caustic. 
 
 The p.^crn, Adolphus, is designed as a faithful exhibition of humanra- 
 ture. The fictitious and dialojical style his boen adopteJ, to give to 
 the moral truths, suitable interest. The plan was conceived, and the 
 poem executed, during a few leisure hours in the past summer. 
 
 That this apparently bold, though really modest effort, at a poetic 
 literary work, may, at least meet the expectations of those not very san- 
 guine in the unde: taking ; and that it may prompt ethers of abler pens 
 and greater leisure, to write something more worthy the country and 
 age, is the sincere ucsire of t'.w author. 
 
 Macox, Georgia, April oih 1333. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Literature refers to the knowledge contained in 
 books. It is either original or acquired. By original 
 literature is meant, the knowledge communicated to others 
 by means of books. — By acquired literature, the informa- 
 tion obtained from books by reading. 
 
 There is a general connection between these two kinds 
 of literature. Among a people devoted to reading, there 
 are apt to be some authors — and where there are autl 
 there are apt to be readers. 
 
 Original literature again, may be divided into that 
 which is transient, and that which is permanent — Tran- 
 sient original literature is that, which from its ephemera ( 
 character, dies with the circumstances or times which pro- 
 duced it. Permanent original literature is that, v 
 from its intrinsic value, is suited to all times, and be 
 the treasure of all ages. 
 
 Each of these species of original literature, has its 
 own peculiar excellence. The former, by a more popular 
 aspect, seizes the multitude at once — instructs, pleases, 
 perishes. The latter, with more real, though less obvious 
 worth, is appreciated, probably, but by few — the discern- 
 ing, the intelligent, the virtuous — but such, it delights and 
 
 2 
 
14 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 edifies through successive generations. The one may be 
 compared to Nature's ever rich, though ever transient li- 
 very of leaves and flowers — the other, to her more sub- 
 stantial trees, which bloom and fruit, through a long term 
 of years — Though of different, each is of real value. 
 
 Between these two kinds of literature, there should be 
 kept up a proper ratio of increase. If permanent litera- 
 ture alone be promoted, the stream of learning will be deep 
 and long, it is true — but then it will flow only in one 
 country, the multitude will not be accessible to its healing 
 waters. On the contrary, if transient literature receive 
 an exclusive attention, the world will be inundated ; but, 
 then it will be with only shallow waters; smaller substan- 
 ces may float upon them, but the larger will be left dry and 
 prominent beyond their influence. If, however, each of 
 them receive a well balanced attention, learning will then 
 resemble the oceans, seas, lakes and rivers upon the globe; 
 it will be deep enough for the greatest, shallow enough 
 for the least, and ample enough for all. 
 
 The ancients erred in the former of these methods. 
 With them, learning was peculiar, remote, mysterious, 
 venerable. Science, as government, then distributed its 
 gifts unequally — magnifying the few — degrading the 
 many. With us, the latter is the approachable error. 
 Dilation, universal dilation is the spirit of the present 
 times. The few are sinking — the many rising. But, 
 there is a point beyond which it is not safe to go. As 
 nature has not made of earth one great mountain, so she 
 has not made of it one great plain. A civil, moral and 
 literary diversity, seems absolutely necessary to the good 
 of the species. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 15 
 
 The importance of permanent original literature to a 
 country, will appear from the following considerations. 
 
 Such literature produces, first, a healthful mental ex- 
 citement. That it is important to sustain among a people, 
 suitable mental interest on worthy objects, need not be af- 
 firmed — a nation swoons without it. It is the very life- 
 blood of the social community ; when gone, death ensues. 
 
 But there are some states of mind, even on the same 
 subject, greatly preferable to others. All excitements in 
 reference to literature, may not be equally good : one set 
 may result from a wasting fever ; another may be marked 
 with the spasms of dissolution. What peculiarities ■, then, 
 distinguish the kind of mental interest, to which allusion 
 has been made ! 
 
 To this I reply, in the first place, that permanent ori- 
 ginal literature ivtfi insirums and invigorates WJt^mufc' 
 No human production, that has not in itself, the basis of 
 lasting utility, is likely to amalgamate with a nation's 
 learning and to be transmitted to posterity. Now, writ- 
 ers of this character, must and will benefit the mind. 
 They increase its information, arouse its aspirations and 
 direct its energies. Like a venerable sage, presiding over 
 a band of ardent youth, pleasing while he instructs, so do 
 such volumes, charm but to edify, and fascinate but to exalt. 
 
 Such writings also exert a decidedly virtuous influence. 
 True it is, there have been such things, as literary vices, 
 and learned monsters. These, however, are not the natu- 
 ral inhabitants of the literary world — they are violent 
 intruders upon its territory. As nothing but truth can 
 stand, so nothing but virtue can be always approved. 
 
16 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Even, however, these exceptions must in the main sub- 
 serve the interests of morality. Such literary amalgama- 
 tions stand, if they stand at all, upon the basis of truth 
 and virtue: vice and falsehood are not capable of self-sup- 
 port. Upon the literary field then, what purpose do such 
 writers subserve — but to be held forth in the hands of 
 truth and virtue, as monumental ruins ! A few may be 
 deceived, but a greater number than otherwise, will 
 escape. 
 
 The general tendency, however, of valuable literary 
 writings must be, to promote virtue. Who has not felt 
 in his bosom, an unusual glow of admiration, as the fair 
 image of this Heavenly Seraph, has been accurately 
 drawn before him by the philosopher ; or vividh/ recom- 
 mended by the orator ; or ethereally depicted by the poet ! 
 
 This kind of literature, also, contributes in nati/mal IiO?U 
 
 or. Jt is not her extended soil, her ancient name, her 
 wealth or her soldiery, that constitutes true national glo- 
 ry. It is her civil, social and moral virtue, transmitted 
 to posterity in her literature. The literature, therefore, of 
 a nation, constitutes a celestial canopy over her head, in 
 whose wide compass, are congregated and established for- 
 ever, the constellations of her great and good. Each liv- 
 ing virtue becomes there immortal ; every national deco- 
 ration is there canonized in eternal brightness. 
 
 But the production of such literature, only pays a na- 
 tional debt. Every nation has its own peculiarities. Its 
 sky, its earth, its animals and plants, its inhabitants and 
 customs, differ from others. It is itself — This isolation 
 of character, among other things, furnishes some peculiar 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 17 
 
 advantages for literary effort. The mind, taking the fea- 
 tures of things around it, is excited by different impulses, 
 lives under different emotions, and acquires different hab- 
 its, from the rest of the world. It is slow or rapid, intel- 
 lectual or imaginative, sublime or lovely ; it is the spirit 
 of its own native scenery. 
 
 Now, as there is in the commercial world, an exchange 
 of products, to sustain to advantage the social condition 
 of man : so, ought there to be, in the literary world, an 
 exchange of mental productions, to sustain the general lit- 
 erary state of mankind. The necessity of human condi- 
 tion lays this tax upon every nation. The land that will 
 not pay it is mean. The People that will not receive it 
 are contemptible. He, then, judges far amiss, who, living 
 in a nation obscure or young, despairs of her exalted des- 
 tiny ; or, who, in the higher places of learning, despises all 
 below him. Such is pride --the opposite true philo- 
 sophy. 
 
 When then the writer of these pages, looking over his 
 own native soil, sees so many towns and villages, that 
 still amid a forest dress of ever living ever extending 
 green, but lift their glad countenances to the early no- 
 tice of a world — surely he may be pardoned, in direct- 
 ing those brilliant faces, to the road of real greatness and 
 permanent utility. Beholding on the brow T of his own 
 long familiarized heavens, and on the earth around him, 
 the means of immortality, and feeling, amid the sympa- 
 thies of common hearts, a flame of its fire burning in his 
 own soul, how could he forbear becoming a literary as- 
 tronomer ; and while wandering over the new fields of 
 2 * 
 
18 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 his own dear commonwealth, of pointing to those heavens 
 where he fondly trusted, his native land would forever shine 
 amid her own bright skies ! If such a course be right, 
 it may do good — if wrong, it surely can be pardoned. 
 
 But how can our country cultivate her literary field ? 
 
 First : By public encouragement to literary effort. To 
 establish the literature of any people, it is absolutely ne- 
 cessary that there be mutual confidence between au- 
 thors and readers, publishers and buyers. No one ex- 
 pects that this is a department of business where riches 
 may be reaped ; yet, would it be a high disgrace, that it 
 should be the only one in which men must starve. But 
 far beyond the mere pecuniary patronage of public sanc- 
 tion, there is a kind of co-operation with an author in the 
 just attentions of the public, which at once satisfy and 
 stimulate. He feels that his labors are appreciated, and 
 he is thus encouraged to render those labors still more 
 conducive to the public good. 
 
 That the public, however, may have something to pat- 
 ronize, it is necessary that there should be adventurers in 
 this department of national labor. The patronage of the 
 country must be put to the test, by actual experiment. 
 Who then are fit persons to make such experiment ? 
 
 To this I reply, first, men of fortune and leisure, who 
 have sufficient literary acquirements. Such men are nu- 
 merous in our country — as numerous probably, as in 
 most others. Why, then, may they not employ their ad- 
 vantages to decorate and bless their age ? Why "should 
 they not improve themselves, in the improvement of 
 others ? 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 19 
 
 But to this I reply again ; that professional men — men 
 of less time and less fortune, than those already mention- 
 ed, but of equal endowments and attainments — profes- 
 sional men must contribute something to this noble object. 
 Some of the most valuable literature in the world, has 
 been the result, of the mere gleanings of business-men. 
 A book has beei: written near midnight, after the labors 
 of the day were over — or, before sun-rise, ere they had 
 commenced. Moments have been snatched at intervals, 
 and appropriated to some useful purpose. Thus has pos- 
 terity and the world been blest, through the rigid econo- 
 my of time, practized by some of the most laborious and 
 devoted men that have ever lived. May not such things 
 be done again, in our age and in our country? 
 
 The Poems, which succeed this Essay, have, in a great 
 measure, been written in this manner. The muse has 
 been courted at midnight, or along a journey ; or, during 
 a few leisure moments, in a very busy life. This, no 
 doubt, will be found to be, in part, a disadvantage : yet, it 
 is hoped, that hours thus spent, will be regarded by the 
 public, as better appropriated, than had they been thrown 
 away. 
 
PART FIRST. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 J&-0454E 5c 
 
 EARLY AND SMALLER PRODUCTIONS. 
 
ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN MUSE.— 1832. 
 
 Muse of America, awake ! 
 
 And from the trees thy harp now take, 
 
 Too long unstrung ; 
 Its notes of sweetness widely peal, 
 Make ev'ry heart its rapture feel, 
 
 Or old or young. 
 
 Genius of nature, now arise, 
 Bend to thy song the upper skies 
 
 In transport sweet : 
 Roll it on storm and on the wave, 
 From desert-glen and mountain-cave 
 
 Still let it meet. 
 
 Dark spirit of the storm, revive, 
 Bid all thy hollow tones now live 
 
 In wildest song : 
 Thy banner wide o'er all unfurl, 
 And rouse to music all the world 
 
 In concert long. 
 
24 ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN MUSE. 
 
 Handler of harp, thy choirs now lead. 
 And 'mong the living and the dead 
 
 Thy voices pour : 
 From groaning bass and lively air. 
 And every string or far or near. 
 
 Still make it roar. 
 
 Sweet eloquence of song revive. 
 Make woodlands and the plains all live 
 
 Beneath thy charm : 
 Let cities bend intent their ear, 
 And senates long thy notes to hear 
 
 With feelings warm. 
 
 Musician of the arts, awake ! 
 Minerva's halls in rapture shake 
 
 With thy sweet tone : 
 Chain to thy harp the learned mind. 
 The teachers teach of all mankin 
 
 Taught else by none. 
 
 Freedom's companion ! now arise. 
 And wipe the tears from Freedom"? (eyes 
 
 With thy soft palm : 
 On despots roll a fiery wave. 
 But bless the mem'ry of the brave 
 
 With thy sweet calm. 
 
ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN MUSE. 25 
 
 Fair bird of Paradise, now sing, 
 And to thy notes here flap thy wing 
 
 In melody : 
 Pour Eden's songs o'er all our land, 
 And round us draw a closer band 
 
 Of harmony. 
 
 Great preacher to the heart, now speak ; 
 The proud subdue, but raise the meek 
 
 With thy pure word : 
 The streams of truth through every soul 
 In richest tide now rapid roll, 
 
 And life afford. 
 
 Immortal harp of Zion high, 
 
 Cast from thy string the weighty sigh, 
 
 And speed thy pace ; 
 Mix with our songs the songs of Heaven, 
 Like rolling streams together driven 
 
 In hurried race. 
 
 Muse of America, awake ! 
 
 And from the trees thy harp now take, 
 
 Too long unstrung : 
 Its notes of sweetness widely peal, 
 Make every heart its rapture feel, 
 
 Or old or young. 
 
SOUTHERN LITERATURE; 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO A LETTER ON EDUCATION, WRITTEN 1835. 
 
 Why mayn't our Southern clime the race of learning run ? 
 Is it because we're burnt beneath a scorching sun ? 
 Beneath those rays how rich our vegetations rise ! 
 And may not mind attain beneath, to equal size ? 
 Was not the cradle laid, of science, in the South ? 
 Was it not cherished first in the fair land of Thoth ? 
 The Hebrew learning too in southern Asia lived, 
 And 'twas in southern Europe Greeks and Romans thriv'd: 
 The North was then barbarian, cold, and wild, and dead. 
 While in the South fair Science raised her glorying head* 
 Let us then claim the mantle ancient sages left, 
 And prove ourselves the worthy heirs of such a gift : 
 Nor let a law, to eastern lands of old applied, 
 Be in this western sphere in modern times denied. 
 
MYSELF. 
 
 The hardest task I ever tried 
 
 Is criticism on myself: 
 
 The rules, to others well applied, 
 
 Seem not to fit this little elf. 
 
 I call him good — they say, he's bad : 
 
 I call him bad — they say, he's good : 
 
 Good-hunior'd — they pronounce him mad : 
 
 Ill-will'd — he's in a happy mood. 
 
 I dress him with the greatest care : 
 
 A country clown, he's quickly thought : 
 
 Niggardly — and the people stare — 
 
 •• Tis wondrous fine — oh is it not ? " 
 
 I speak what I think solid sense : 
 
 My list'ners say, 'tis foolishness : 
 
 I mention things not worth five-pence — 
 
 Hearing, they say, is wealthiness. 
 
 I think I'm smart — I get no vote : 
 
 But when my brains to me are vanished, 
 
 They cram fast praises down my throat, 
 
 And say, ' dejection should be banished.' 
 
 .' 
 
28 MYSELF. 
 
 My harp I seize, and strike a note, 
 
 To me as sweet as orphean lyre : 
 
 ; Strange, ' they say, ' not worth a groat ' — 
 
 A poet should be filled with fire. ' 
 
 At other time, I music make, 
 
 Not fit a donkey *s ear to greet : 
 
 At once the people loudly break — 
 
 * How charming good — how very sweet ! 
 I criticise another's verse, 
 
 And call it ill or call it fine — 
 
 At once they cry, in manner terse, 
 
 * It 's not so good ; or worse than thine* ' 
 
 Bethought me then, 'tis very strange, 
 That I and others can't agree — 
 I seem'd like herdling out the range ; 
 Exil'd, yet thankful to be free. 
 I thought, and often thought upon 't ; 
 And now have form'd conclusion — 
 My neighbors can't as well as won't 
 See with my eyes — it 's delusion. 
 They, too, are men as well as I, 
 And just as fit may judges be : 
 They have an ear, they have an eye ; 
 And sure, may either hear or see. 
 
MYSELF. 29 
 
 Say what ye will, Logicians, 
 
 About rules and fixed principles, 
 
 The People, if not Rhetoricians, 
 
 Are still, in taste, invincibles. 
 
 The parent can't the child persuade, 
 
 That what is nauseous still is sweet : 
 
 Nor have the critics all men made 
 
 With them in thinking quite to meet. 
 
 Nature casts in different moulds 
 
 The souls of men. All are not one — 
 
 The rule which with the learned holds, 
 
 The vulgar breaking, turn to fun. 
 
 The Greek and Barbarian differ — 
 
 Roman and Goth cannot agree — 
 
 Britain and the Tartar rougher, 
 
 With eyes alike can never see. 
 
 Where is the rule that measures all ? 
 
 Look out and find it, if you can : 
 
 It 's not upon this earthly ball, 
 
 The perfect rule to level man. 
 
 In ev'ry age, and state and mind. 
 
 Tastes diff 'ring will fore'er be found : 
 
 And still mankind will be mankind, 
 
 In spite the learned and profound, 
 3 * 
 
30 MYSELF. 
 
 Diff 'rent soils diff 'rent fruits produce, 
 Different rivers run in diff 'rent lands : 
 Great Nature hangs herself more loose, 
 Than found in philosophic hands. 
 
 General rules no doubt there are — 
 The race is one howe'er diffus'd — 
 But these must be applied with care, 
 Or, all things soon will be confus'd. 
 Gradations too, are different : 
 Fix'd rules however good with some, 
 Perhaps are not for others meant : 
 They shoot above ; or, too low come. 
 Straight lines may yet be parallel, 
 Though some are short and others long : 
 Different orbits too may dwell 
 Around the sun — and none be wrong. 
 The measuring-rod of th 5 polite, 
 May not his plainer neighbor fit ; 
 Yet, 'twould scarcely sure be right, 
 Deny the latter every bit. 
 The rude have hearts, as well as wise, 
 And can as truly pleasures feel : 
 Their enjoyments too, they prize ; 
 Though to the learned's they are steel. 
 
MYSELF. 31 
 
 Why, then, ye learned and ye great ; 
 Do ye so much monopolize ! 
 There 's happiness in ev'ry state, 
 Though hid from your exalted eyes. 
 What ! shall the rich deny the poor 
 The right of property ; because, 
 Themselves possessed of so much more ? 
 This would pervert just nature's laws. 
 Descend, descend, ye exalted, then — 
 If th' larger circles round your brow, 
 May not be worn by other men, 
 There still are smaller ones below. 
 
 Thus, a self-thought I 've pursued ; 
 And stroll'd me far, too far abroad — 
 Yet, such it seem'd the poet's mood, 
 Or blame me critics or applaud. 
 And here I'll cease with one reflection — 
 To end consistent with myself — 
 Perhaps, if forced from one direction, 
 My verse may steal a poor-man's shelf. 
 
THE LITTLE DOVE AND THE TWO HAWKS. 
 
 A little dove once left 
 
 Upon an island's strand, 
 
 Half-fledg'd and quite bereft, 
 
 Now long'd for distant land : 
 And oft around the isle, its little wing 
 It tried ; and cooing, strove its woes to sing. 
 
 How oft upon the top 
 
 Of some exalted tree, 
 
 Its little feet would hop, 
 
 As trying that land to see ! 
 And oft it would youthful excursions make, 
 On daring pinions o'er the wide, wide lake. 
 
 At length two hawks it sees, 
 
 Together on the boughs 
 
 Of some o'erhanging trees, 
 
 To whom itself it shows : 
 And though a victim : yet, with generous trust, 
 Itself confiding — 'If I die, I must. 9 
 
THE LITTLE DOVE AND THE TWO HAWKS. 33 
 
 ' What think ye noble friends — 
 
 For such my mis'ry hails — 
 
 Can I to other lands 
 
 Proceed, with my young sails ? 
 Inspect me and examine ; for, ye know : 
 And tell me : can I to those far-lands go ? ' 
 
 At once they hold debate, 
 
 And secrets seem to pass ; 
 
 As poor little dove its fate 
 
 Oft heav'd with an alas ! 
 How oft upon their beaks and claws its eyes 
 It turn'd, and to the deep and far-off skies ! 
 
 The hawks reply — ; your lot 
 
 We pity ; and would fain 
 
 Relieve — but, w r e cannot — 
 
 You'd better here remain ; 
 And, than be prey to some devouring fish, 
 Repress with firmness your excursive wish. ' 
 
 Droops down its little head, 
 
 Perhaps, they mean me ill, 
 
 Perhaps, my blood will shed 
 
 Themselves sometime to fill ! 
 Oh fates ! yet, 4 thank you, friends, for your advice, 
 It grieves me ; but, is still of priceless price. ' 
 
34 a poet's reflections. 
 
 From th' council now it goes, 
 
 And in a lonely place, 
 
 Unpitied, mourns its woes, 
 
 And bathes with tears its face. 
 • Oh how I long, that vast, vast deep to pass, 
 And concert kindly with my own sweet race ! ' 
 
 It wept 'and sighed awhile : 
 But, now, its wings expand : 
 
 And now, in loftier style 
 
 • • • 
 
 It sought the far-off land ; 
 The air is mounted, and the sea o'er past ; 
 As coos the dove beyond the wat'ry waste. 
 
 A POET'S REFLECTIONS— 1832. 
 
 The city oft I wooed, and long, 
 
 And tried to move them with my song 
 
 From lofty place — 
 But deaf to music, bent on gain, 
 They fix their eyes upon the plain 
 
 In swiftest race. 
 
A POET ? S REFLECTIONS. 35 
 
 For senates too I often sung, 
 
 And round their noise my loud notes flung, 
 
 In rapture great. 
 But they nor saw nor heard the bard, 
 But strove 'bout laws and often jar'd 
 
 About the State. 
 
 The parlour too I sought and hearth, 
 And tried to please them with the mirth 
 
 Of minstrelsy : 
 But full of chat and idle prate, 
 They drove along at merry gate 
 
 In revelry. 
 
 The house of God I also sought, 
 And with me all that's sacred brought 
 
 In holy verse : 
 But cold at heart and full of care, 
 My music freez'd and perish'd there, 
 
 In sad reverse. 
 
 The palace of the rich I trod, 
 And sang of nature, sang of God 
 
 Before my host : 
 But fat in soul as fat in pelf, 
 He fixed his eyes upon himself 
 
 In idle boast. 
 
36 A POET S REFLECTIONS. 
 
 Before the great I richly spread 
 The splendid titles of the dead 
 
 In brightest dress : 
 But each pursued his stubborn way 
 Nor listened to my swelling lay 
 
 In thoughtful ness. 
 
 The lover too I gently wooed, 
 And tuned my lyre to suit his mood 
 
 Of extacy : 
 But o'er his soul no music breath'd, 
 While round his heart his mistress wreath M 
 
 Her tissuecy. 
 
 And thus of men I all caressed, 
 
 And to their states my theme I dressed 
 
 Most faithfully : 
 But none me noticed, or my song, 
 But pushed ahead or right or wrong 
 
 Most rapidly. 
 
 Away from such I now retire — 
 Nature, for thee I tune my lyre, 
 
 And pray thee hear. 
 Thou hast a heart, when mortals fail, 
 A heart to joy, a heart to wail 
 
 With poets here. 
 
a poet's reflections. 37 
 
 Thou lofty Sun, whose risen beam 
 Drives from the earth each nightly dream. 
 
 For thee I sing : 
 Into thy rays I weave my song, 
 And pray thee bear my notes along, 
 
 Upon thy wing. 
 
 Dark Empress Night, I thee invoke, 
 Around me throw, thy blackest cloak 
 
 Of midnight drear : 
 Oh let my song through thy domain, 
 Still widely roll and roll again, 
 
 Both far and near. 
 
 Ye stormy winds, whose furious tone 
 Drives terror into hearts of stone, 
 
 Attend my call : 
 Mix with your wail, my own wild song, 
 And bear the harsh strains fast along, 
 
 Nor let them fall. 
 
 Ye mountains tall, whose snow-clad peaks, 
 Like marble piles with iv'ry cheeks, 
 
 Your heads lift up ; 
 Well-used to songs of heav'nly spheres, 
 Receive my notes with notes of theirs, 
 
 In lofty group. 
 
38 
 
 Ye deserts dark, where wild beasts roam. 
 And serpents hiss in native home, 
 
 Receive me too : 
 In your deep shades, oh let me sing 
 And 'mong your haunts my harp-strings ring 
 
 In music new. 
 
 Ye balls of flame, whose steady light, 
 Enliven e'er the vault of night, 
 
 Attend my lay : 
 And as ye wait, in palace high, 
 Resound it through the lofty sky 
 
 To courts of day. 
 
 And thou, Great God, Eternal Cause, 
 Whose will has fixed all Nature's laws, 
 
 Be pleased to hear : 
 Thee first, Thee last, Thee all J sing, 
 God, my Redeemer, God my King, 
 
 My Father dear. 
 
THE WEEPING BARD. 
 
 Bright from the sky the sun-light beamed, 
 And brisk from groves their glory streamed : 
 Her gladdest mood, fair Nature showed, 
 And every joy the heart o'erflowed. 
 
 Nor would one think, mid scene like this 
 A mind, could e'er be void of bliss ; 
 Yet wept the Bard in secret shade, 
 As if the scoff of fortune made. 
 
 'Twas not adversity severe 
 That made him weep in silence there, 
 Nor lack of mind, nor ill success : 
 That drove him to the wilderness. 
 
 Tend'rest plant of all the grove, 
 
 He droop'd beneath the voice of love, 
 
 Felt sickly in his wellest day, 
 
 And pined and moaned his life away. 
 
40 THE WEEPING BARD. 
 
 With wail of winds, he mixed his sigh, 
 And with the storm he wip'd his eye, 
 Drew round his soul with night his shroud, 
 And shook beneath the thunder loud. 
 
 Plaintive in soul, his harp he seized, 
 And as he sung, the blood he freezed ; 
 Thrilled through each breast the keenest grief, 
 And sorrows waked, without relief. 
 
 His tears he poured in others' eyes, 
 And with his own he mixed their cries ; 
 Drew round their souls his own dread gloom, 
 The cold, dark midnight of the tomb. 
 
 Sucji mournful notes were all he sung — ■ 
 The only tones his harp -strings rung : 
 And when from ear they died afar, 
 He sighed and groaned in anguish there. 
 
 Now broke at heart, alone, he weeps, 
 And with the grove its stillness keeps ; 
 Sees with each leaf his hopes fall down, 
 And all his joys to distance blown. 
 
THE WEEPING BARD. 41 
 
 Close by his side, his harp unstrung 
 Lies weeping, on the willow hung, 
 As on it oft his eyes he throws, 
 And groans unpitied at his woes. 
 
 Then with the waters floating by 
 His griefs he mingles, with a sigh ; 
 And as they join the briny wave, 
 He, faded, falls in early grave. 
 
 A FRAGMENT: 
 
 WRITTEN FOR AN ALBUM. — 1827. 
 
 As roves the buzzing bee mid verdant meads 
 
 To sip the fragrance which the spring affords ; 
 
 So wanders Laura, plucking in her course 
 
 The buds of fancy and the sweets of thought. 
 
 For her enchanted bards their sleeping lyres 
 
 Again resume ; and play advent'rous song ; 
 
 Attempting each to strike the purer lay. 
 
 Here, notes flow easy — while a skilful hand 
 4 * 
 
42 VERSES, FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY 1832. 
 
 Skips lightly o'er the long-resounding strings ; 
 There, sounds discordant thrilling through the breeze 
 Speak love as ardent, but a feebler muse. 
 Here, charms illusive play upon the soul 
 Through friendship's well-known seal. There, scenes 
 
 remote, 
 Once sweet to view, are brought again to mind. 
 All then, I ask, amid this num'rous train, 
 Of wise and learned, is only this, a Name. 
 
 VERSES, 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY 1832.. 
 
 The storm it was loud and the ocean invaded, 
 The night it was dark and the thunder upbraided, 
 The earth it did quake, and the mountains were shaking, 
 And hope that once glimmer'd was rapidly breaking. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Halleluiah to the Lord, who seized us when strangers. 
 We'll praise Him again as we pass over dangers. 
 
VERSES, FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY 1832. 43 
 
 Our strength it was small, and our helpers were seldom, 
 Our life it flowed slowly, and death it was welcome ; 
 The tear of the widow fell cold from her eyelid. 
 And orphans were crying for bread, all-exhausted. 
 
 'Twas then through the darkness, a hard was extended, 
 That drove from the sunken the storm that impended ; 
 That shut in their fountains the torrents that pelted, 
 And roll'd from the highlands the ocean that melted. 
 
 Then fixed on the war-cloud a Bow it expanded, 
 While hushed in their tumult our dangers were stranded ; 
 The mountains grew steadfast, and vallies all budded, 
 And fields waved in harvest, as the rainbow was studded. 
 
 Now brighter than then on the clouds we behold it ; 
 
 While millions united all shouting applaud it : 
 
 Stretch fast round the earth then, fair Rainbow of 
 Freedom, 
 
 And all lands encircle in the sweets of thy kingdom. 
 
VANITY OF FAME. — 1828, 
 
 He won — I saw him crown'd amid thousands. 
 
 While a loud burst of praise bore far on high 
 
 The victor's name. The heavens bending smiled - 
 
 Creation paused to do him reverence — 
 
 Eyes without number, now strangely brightened. 
 
 Meet him as he goes and stand in wonder. 
 
 His common pathway is an isle of flowers, 
 
 And round his side, from burnished armory, 
 
 Plays many an image of the noon-day's sun. 
 
 Unprompted messengers herald his approach — 
 
 While every city bends with outstretched arms 
 
 To bid him welcome. Capacious halls 
 
 Dazzle the eye with richest pageantry ; 
 
 And feasts and balls assist the common joy. 
 
 Nor would a stranger know, who passed that way, 
 
 But some Immortal, on an errand kind, 
 
 Had hasted down to earth, and here had lodged ; 
 
 For never mortal man was worshipped more. 
 
 Yet still he died ! and died in infamy ! ! 
 
YOUTHFUL HOPE. 45 
 
 The sun that rose so bright upon his youth, 
 Thrice blushing set behind heaps of dusky clouds, 
 While far from hope he raised a faded eye, 
 Sighed upon the world, and welcomed death, 
 
 YOUTHFUL HOPE. 
 
 As rise yon mountains high in distant view, 
 
 And proudly mix their heads with ether's blue, 
 
 While 'long their bushy sides the sun-light beams,, 
 
 And o'er their peaks, a tide of glory streams, 
 
 But which the rougher and the worse appear, 
 
 As towards their feet the struggling wight draws near 
 
 Till standing on their sides he round him sees 
 
 But barren mounds of earth and rugged trees ; 
 
 So, in the distant view of youthful hopes, 
 
 The joys of life arise like mountain-tops : 
 
 Around their brow a heavenly halo shines, 
 
 And down their sides full many a lustre twines, 
 
 The magic charms of life seem then all found, 
 
 And sweetest pleasure floats in ev'ry sound. 
 
46 THE WITHERED ROSE. 
 
 A spot, which hope with ev'ry sweet o'erloads, 
 
 The seats of angels, and abode of gods : 
 
 But which as now we nearer come, decay ; 
 
 And robe on robe fast dashing far away, 
 
 A barren heap of rudest rocks appears, 
 
 Despoiled of green and deeply marked by years : 
 
 Nor now to ease or magic bliss invite, 
 
 But labors ceaseless and the toils of fight. 
 
 Or, sinking rapid from our wand'ring view, 
 
 Leave us amaz'd, their sudden loss to rue. 
 
 While for the scene which prest our youthful brain, 
 
 We stand in tears amid a dreary plain. 
 
 THE WITHERED ROSE.— 1826. 
 
 WRITTEN IN MY SOPHOMORE YEAR ; AND THE EARLIEST FRAGMENT OF MY 
 POETRY NOW EXTANT. 
 
 'Twas on a lovely morn in May, 
 While wand'ring down a silvan way, 
 I saw the rose in smiling bloom, 
 The wind enrich with sweet perfume. 
 
THE WITHERED ROSE. 47 
 
 Its waving head, its ruddy form, 
 Seem'd well prepared to stand a storm : 
 While native pride within exclaimed, 
 'No hand shall break what Nature fram'd.' 
 But, ah ! how little did it know, 
 That fate e'en then design'd its wo, 
 That veiled in clouds the sentence lay — 
 6 Thou shalt not live another day ! ' 
 For now, while thus it boasts its power, 
 Comes Mary's form to blast the flower, 
 To pluck it from its native place, 
 And join it to her female grace ! 
 And ere the sun had ceas'd to shine 
 O'er waving tops of western pine, 
 All beauty from its form was fled, 
 While droop'd its leaves on Mary's head ! 
 And thus I thought it is with man : 
 His youthful hopes fair breezes fan ; 
 But ere he grasps the good ahead, 
 He sinks and mingles with the dead. 
 Like the dry leaf on Mary's hair, 
 He blooms and smiles, then withers here ; 
 A morning's rose, a summer's flower ; 
 The plaything of th' Almighty's power. 
 
THE GLOOMY SPI RIT.— 1827. 
 
 The rays of Sol fall bright around, 
 The tree-tops sparkle as they move, 
 And e'en that flower on the ground 
 Uplifts its head in smiles of love. 
 The lark, that wings her upward way, 
 Free from the griefs that plague below, 
 Pours to the morn her early lay, 
 And sings her pleasures as they flow. 
 See, too, that infant — mild and meek, 
 It knows not pain, it feels not wo — 
 Sweet raptures kindle on its cheek, 
 And constant joy expands its brow. 
 But ah ! within this breast of mine 
 Are stormy nights and tempests dire : 
 My latest hopes have ceased to shine^ 
 And I seem left to Heaven's ire. 
 Nor see I round the circling skies, 
 A fellow trav'ler thus distrest ; 
 A friend with me to sympathize, 
 And break the sorrow of my breast. 
 
THE IDLE MULE. 49 
 
 But yes ! there still, there still is one; 
 5 Tis midnight in her dark robe drest — 
 And there I'll haste, and all alone, 
 Cling to her car from east to west. 
 No more may I behold the light ! 
 Its rays provoke the griefs I feel, 
 But lock'd within the arms of night, 
 Still roll upon her dusky wheel. 
 
 THE IDLE MULE. 
 
 A Mule that once to loaded wagon stood, 
 
 Which absent Teamster left upon the road, 
 
 Chancing to see, as now behind he gaz'd 
 
 The lofty pile of bales, was quite amaz'd 
 
 That one so small as he, should thus be made 
 
 To drag a load which quite four thousand weigh 'd. 
 
 1 What cruelty ' he said i to yoke a mule 
 
 To such a mass — my master's sure a fool — 
 
 And then, quite idle on the poor beast's back 
 
 To scold, and curse, and give poor Bill a crack ! 
 5 
 
50 THE IDLE MULE. 
 
 Tis hard — nor shall I ever drag again, 
 Such load, for best, or worst, or all of men. 
 Nor can I if I 'd try — it is too great — 
 I weigh but straw to such a massy weight — 
 And I 'm resolved — and by the heaven's I swear, 
 To die, before I move a step from here.' 
 
 O'erhearing — the Cur that lay within the grass 
 Look'd up, and smiling, star'd him in the face. 
 ' Why, Bill, ' said he, 6 dare you thus rebel 
 Against a master feeding you so well ? 
 Sure, if you 'd look upon your smooth, sleek side 
 You 'd be asham'd, and try your face to hide. 
 Besides, you 've not to drag the load alone, 
 There's four beside yourself, and then big Roan — • 
 Nor is the load to drag, the waggon's wheels 
 To lighten th' burden from the poor mule's heels. 
 And now, although, I never drew a track, 
 You '11 pull 't, I know, without a single crack. 
 Do your duty — 'tis all your master wants, 
 The rest, no doubt, he'll charge to his accounts.' 
 
 Before the Mule could make the Cur 'reply 
 The Teamster came — and on the bales did fly — 
 Poor Bill forgot the weight, forgot his oath, 
 And pull'd the hardest in despite of both. 
 
THE IDLE MULE. 51 
 
 Bethought me then 'tis pitiful and bad, 
 That folks on duty should stop along th' road — 
 A moments' leisure gives them more of pain 
 Than thousands if they'd at their task remain. 
 A look at burdens swells their awful size, 
 And makes us feel we just had ope'd our eyes. 
 Our toils seem great, and we seem left alone, 
 As wretched Bill without the mules and Roan, 
 Nor do we see in such despondent hour, 
 That burdens lesson by their rollers power. 
 But placing wanton on our wretched head, 
 Great loads that for such place were never made, 
 We think our Maker hard, call men ill-names, 
 And than perform our work, prefer the flames. 
 
 The cure for Mule and Man is quite the same, 
 Since both are caught at the same silly game — 
 Nor need we here a sage or prophet wise, 
 The Cur shall teach, as long the road he lies. 
 " Do your duty — tis all your Master wants, 
 The rest, no doubt, he'll charge to his accounts, ' 
 
A COMPARISON. 
 
 WRITTEN IN A COLLEGE SPEECH. 
 
 Like two great rocks from lofty mountains hurled, 
 Met in their course that war it down the world ; 
 Here cities tossing in their mighty strife, 
 There, graves digging mid th' abodes of life. 
 
 MAN. 
 
 WRITTEN IN A COLLEGE SPEECH. 
 
 Grows then round virtue such a vicious crew ? 
 Is truth thus blended ? and with falsehood too ! 
 Lurks dark deceit behind so fair a face ? 
 Or wrankles wrath in love's acknowledged place ? 
 Then turn it, bend it, twist it, as you can, 
 And still, a strange variety is man. 
 
MAN. 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE ROAD. 
 
 A birth, a joy, a life, a sigh, 
 A groan the dead, the ground a cry, 
 Is man ; earth's transient lord and slave, 
 A moment's flash, a moment's grave. 
 
 LINES; 
 
 WRITTEN IN THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY. — 1834, 
 
 Away from war and strife, 
 Where virtue spreads her shade ; 
 Oh let me spend my life, 
 And then lay down my head, 
 
 AN EVENING THOUGHT. 
 
 Retires the light of day 
 And with it earthly toil, 
 
54 AN EVENING THOUGHT. 
 
 As down the milder ray- 
 Steals soft upon the soil ; 
 The Queen of night her host parades 
 And through the sky in glory wades. 
 
 In heaven's dark canopy 
 Glitter the starry hosts, 
 And with a revelry 
 Maintain their shining posts ; 
 While on the robes of darkness drear 
 Their glit'ring light they scatter there, 
 
 Silence o'er all prevails 
 And nature meditates 
 While each its Maker hails, 
 And bends at holy gates ; 
 God through them all they joyful sing 
 As long and loud their sweet notes ring 
 
 Say who mid scene like this, 
 Could still his joy repress, 
 Uncharm'd in general bliss 
 And void of happiness ? 
 Then wake, my soul, to joys of night, 
 And glad pursue thy upward flight. 
 
MIDNIGHT. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE BURNING OF A HOUSE. 
 
 When all are wrap'd in sleep, 
 There is an eye abroad, 
 That eye doth sleepless vigils keep, 
 It is the eye of God. 
 
 When all are still and deaf 
 There is an ear abroad, 
 That ear is open to all grief, 
 It is the ear of God* 
 
 When all are helpless laid 
 There is an arm abroad, 
 Upon that arm all Nature's stay'd, 
 It is the arm of God. 
 
 That eye we love to see, - 
 Upon that arm to trust ; 
 That ear receives our minstrelsy, 
 That God our slumbering dust. 
 
THE TEARS OF VIRTUE. 
 
 There is a fountain in the soul, 
 But few have tasted of it, 
 It is the fountain whence do roll 
 The tears of virtue grieved. 
 
 Such fountain th' wicked cannot know, 
 For they have never seen it ; 
 And there the good do seldom go, 
 And therefore do not need it. 
 
 It is for few reserv'd to taste, 
 The good unhappy-fallen, 
 It is the virtuous after feast, 
 When once from duty strollen. 
 
 Such were the tears by David shed, 
 When he had sin committed, 
 Such were the weepings Peter made, 
 When he of crimes repented. 
 
THERE IS JOY IN TEARS. 57 
 
 Such were the tears the Saviour shed, 
 When in the garden striken, 
 Such are the tears, if tears are shed 
 By saints who 're now in Heaven. 
 
 Such too be mine, where'er I stray, 
 By hard temptation driven, 
 May heaven yield me on that day, 
 The tears of virtue grieven. 
 
 THERE IS JOY IN TEARS. 
 
 There is joy in tears — oh who has not felt it ! 
 So melting, so soothing to the broken in heart, 
 When the soul is so callous and sorrows still pelt it, 
 Sweet tears relieve us, they bear away the smart. 
 
 There is joy in tears — the widow well knows it, 
 And weeps as she mourns the beloved one gone, 
 It lessens her grief, her countenance shows it, 
 She is happy to weep and therefore weeps on. 
 
58 THE TOWN CLOCK. 
 
 There is joy in tears — the parent has seen it, 
 And wept as he dropt his young angel in death, 
 He 's happy to weep tho' afflictions don't mean it, 
 His tears are the fragrance of the little one's breath. 
 
 There is joy in tears — the penitent loves it, 
 And weeps as he counts sin's catalogue o'er, 
 The fountain is sweet, thus often he moves it, 
 And weeps, and still wishes to weep evermore. 
 
 There is joy in tears — 'tis love that doth make it, 
 Love at the bottom still mixing with brine, 
 How blest then the soul, when the bitter forsake it, 
 And love fill the fountain as in glory it shine. 
 
 THE TOWN CLOCK. 
 
 WRITTEN IN WASHINGTON— 1832. 
 
 Tis night — the bustle of the town is dead, 
 While round his hearth, or on his couch now rests, 
 The wearied laborer. Silence prevails, 
 Except the bark of distant cur, or shriek 
 
THE TOWN CLOCK* 59 
 
 Ud grateful, of the midnight reveller. 
 
 But still one sentinel forgets to sleep, 
 
 Tis thou, loud-measurer of time, whose notes, 
 
 Like angel-voices fall upon the ear, 
 
 And wake to solemn thought the slumbering soul. 
 
 Like dirgeful knell, thou point'st the widow'd heart 
 To lonely grave, where lies the form beloved — 
 Or prompt'st parental tears at thought of babe, 
 Once fair, now blighted by the hand of death. 
 At stroke of thee, the sick man too, his head 
 Lifts up, and anxious asks with glaring eye, 
 If latest sands of life are nearly dropt. 
 Age thou warnest of that grave so near at hand, 
 And bid'st him think, and pray before he falls, 
 From shore of time, to which he clings so hard. 
 The young thou urgest to improve the hour 
 Now passing by. Upon the guilty heart 
 Thou flashest terror and remorse, which bid 
 Him well beware the lake that burns with fire. 
 Upon the night-debauch, who lion-like 
 On virtue preys with greedy appetite, 
 Thou roll'st the peals of coming judgment-day, 
 When all his crimes, from gloomy night brought out, 
 Shall him accuse of all his filthy deeds, 
 And blackness and disgrace upon him cast. 
 
60 A SMILE. 
 
 The theif thou warnest, and the drunken wretch 
 
 Whose bloated face betokens early death. 
 
 And him whose busy head, most tavern-like, 
 
 Is all night long disturbed by travellers, 
 
 From gold or politics, thou bid'st his mind 
 
 Compose, and head upon his Saviour rest. 
 
 The christian too thou tell'st be faithful still, 
 
 His loins most tightly girt, and lamps all trim'd, 
 
 And he himself in promptest attitude. 
 
 And all thou warnest of a night when none 
 
 Can work — when man shall die — the world shall end, 
 
 And thou thyself shalt throw thy tongue away, 
 
 And God alone Eternity shall mete. 
 
 A SMILE. 
 
 When prosperities lighten, 
 And friendships they brighten, 
 When mercies are shower'd, 
 And blessings are pour'd : 
 I love on the face to behold all the while, 
 The offspring of gladness, a sweet holy smile. 
 
THE SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER. 61 
 
 When adversities thicken, 
 
 And dangers they quicken ; 
 
 When afflictions are hurried, 
 
 And comforts are buried : 
 I love on the face to behold all the while, 
 The child of submission — a sweet holy smile. 
 
 When death is approaching, 
 
 And terrors encroaching ; 
 
 When darkness is falling, 
 
 And angels are calling : 
 I love on the face to behold all the while, 
 The offspring of triumph — a sweet holy smile. 
 
 THE SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER. 
 
 When mercies abound, 
 
 And love strews the ground, 
 
 And smiles are so full and so clear : 
 
 When goodness distils, 
 
 And my heart it so fills : 
 
 I love, oh I love the sweet hour of prayer. 
 6 
 
62 THE SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER, 
 
 When griefs oppress, 
 
 And wretchedness 
 Its many ills are drawing near : 
 
 When darkness reigns, 
 
 My soul complains ; 
 I love oh I love the sweet hour of prayer. 
 
 At morning light, 
 With coming night, 
 Or, when the burning noon draws near : 
 Mid forest-glen, 
 Or city, then 
 « I love, oh I love the sweet hour of prayer. 
 
 On bed of death, 
 
 Mid stopping breath ; 
 When none but God himself can hear : 
 
 As sinking, I 
 
 Lift up my eye ; 
 I'll love, oh I'll love the sweet hour of prayer. 
 
WRITTEN FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 RICHMOND BATH. — 1830. 
 
 Mind is an Album just like this — 
 At first, a blank alone it is ; 
 Revolving time the pages fill, 
 Year after year augments it still : 
 While life and being last. 
 
 Dear girl as on these leaves you look, 
 Op'n the pages of that inner book, 
 Where blank, where full, where wrong, inquire, 
 See that its leaves fair truth inspire : 
 Each page with virtue fill. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR AN ALBUM.— 1832. 
 
 So fair as leaves of Album white 
 And easy stain'd, is woman's name 
 
64 WRITTEN FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 Remember, girl, a touch how slight 
 And soft, may tarnish thee with shame. 
 Hold firm thy heart, hold high thy aim. 
 In all thy life let prudence reign, 
 And modesty with meekness guide ; 
 Nor once let guile thy bosom stain, 
 E'en stain'd but once, 'twill there abide. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR AN ALBUM— 1832. 
 
 An Album's like a lady's face, 
 
 Looks neat when well adorn'd with grace ; 
 
 As on each page sweet poesy blooms, 
 
 And every verse exhales perfumes. 
 
 Let those, then, who for Lucia write, 
 
 The virtues all for her unite ; 
 
 And round them throw a blooming dress, 
 
 As rich as blushes on her face. 
 
WRITTEN FOR AN ALBUM— 1832. 
 
 Charlotte, for thee long life I pray, 
 Hope, too, as bright as blushing day, 
 And peace as sweet as evening's rest, 
 Refreshing e'er thy thankful breast. 
 Love, too, I pray with thee may live, 
 Of objects worth that love to give : 
 Truth too be thine and ev'ry bliss. 
 That can delight a life like this, 
 Each be the lot of my dear Miss. 
 
 T£> A YOUNG F RI E N D.— 1832, 
 
 Upon life's turbid sea unknown, 
 
 What countless numbers rashly go ; 
 
 Unconscious of the storm that's blown 
 
 Ten thousands to the gulph of wo ! 
 6 * 
 
66 TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 
 
 That threat'nirg deep then, friend, explore 
 Before you leave the peaceful shore 
 Of youthful days. 
 
 Some mid the rocks are hurl'd forlorn, 
 Some mid the quicksands cover'd o'er ; 
 Some by a thousand tempests torn, 
 And millions sail to sail no more. 
 That threat'ning deep then, friend, explore 
 Before you leave the peaceful shore 
 Of youthful days. 
 
 See mid the lost a few sail on, 
 With steady course and prosp'rous gale, 
 They for the prize of virtue run, 
 And truth immortal fills their sail. 
 With these blest ones then launch your bark, 
 And sail, young friend, for virtue's mark, 
 From youthful days. 
 
NATURAL AND MORAL BEAUTY. 
 
 FOR A YOUNG LADY. — 1827. 
 
 Part. I. 
 
 What is beauty ? A fading flower, 
 Now fair, then withered in an hour ; 
 The early tints of morning light, 
 Now seen, now perished from the sight. 
 
 What is beauty ? The ling'ring red, 
 On evening's breast from sunbeams shed ; 
 The night-pale ray that meets the eye, 
 As transient dropt from star on high. 
 
 What is beauty ? The painted tear 
 Cast from a cloud when spring is near ; 
 A pictur'd bubble to the morn, 
 Now dazzling fair, now broke and gone. 
 
 What is beauty ? Nature's fair trace, 
 The hues she gathers in the face ; 
 The life that sparkles in the eye, 
 Th' expressive languor of a sigh. 
 
68 NATURAL AND MORAL BEAUTY. 
 
 What is beauty ? A wing'd idea, 
 Oft given to you Ladies fair ; 
 The silken cords of human hearts, 
 Now binding strong, now rent in parts. 
 
 Part. II. 
 
 What is beauty ? A temper meek, 
 The sweet expression of the cheek ; 
 The mind that's pure from ev'ry guile, 
 The soul that hates a treach'rous wile. 
 
 What is beauty ? The path of truth, 
 The road that leads the virtuous youth ; 
 The tender heart that cannot stray, 
 The soul that owns a Saviour's sway. 
 
 What is beauty 1 A tree of life, 
 Diffusing good and healing grief; 
 The fair benov'lence of a hand, 
 That sheds its blessings o'er the land. 
 
 What is beauty ? An Eden's bower, 
 The dewy lustre of a summer's shower ; 
 The smiles of joy where goodness moves, 
 The glist'ning tears which God approves. 
 
TO A FRIEND AT PARTING, 69 
 
 What is beauty ? The rose of Heaven, 
 God's image bright to mortals given ; 
 'Tis grace now shining in the soul, 
 'Tis life immortal crowning all. 
 
 TO A FRIEND AT PARTING— 1827. 
 
 'Tis friendship cheers when hope is fled, 
 'Tis friendship lifts the sinking head, 
 'Tis friendship makes the world revive, 
 And void of friendship, who would live ? 
 Creation's wealth and all its train 
 May raise and bless — but all in vain ! 
 The world presents a prospect drear, 
 Without a friend no soul could bear. 
 How sad the scene, then who can tell, 
 When friendship speaks a long farewell ! 
 When love that warms a mutual heart, 
 Laments to hear the sound depart ! 
 Tho' others show their friendship false, 
 And at such tears their heart revolts ; 
 
70 TO A FRIEND AT PARTING. 
 
 Be ours a friendship ardent, warm, 
 And moved by no terrestrial storm. 
 Tho' time drives on and friends must part, 
 The love we bear is in the heart ; 
 Not there to languish, but to grow 
 More constant, from more constant wo. 
 
 TO A FRIND AT PARTING. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA. — 1834. 
 
 As green spots on a desert wide, 
 Or Islands bathed in ocean's tide ; 
 Or stars that glimmer in the night, 
 Or transient moonbeams bursting bright ; 
 Are pleasing friendships sudden made, 
 But which shall never, never fade. 
 Then while in gloomy distance far, 
 We mutual fall like setting star, 
 We'll sweetly think on moment's past, 
 That bound us each to other fast : 
 Nor mid a stronger burning flame, 
 Forget to call each other's name. 
 
TO A FRIEND AT PARTING.— 1832. 
 
 As long the sky the snow-beat clouds drive on, 
 And while they shine still hasten to begone, 
 Or like the well plumed arrow darting fast, 
 As once we see it, and again 'tis past, 
 Or like the meteor blazing through the night, 
 As now it glares and now it dies from sight ; 
 So came, so went, your kindly visit friend, 
 So short to see, so pleasant to the mind. 
 And now as from us called again to part, 
 Your name I'll deep embalm within my heart, 
 And o'er it there engraved, with friendly hand, 
 I'll pour the best perfumes of all the land : 
 And as you pass away 'tis sweet to know, 
 The stars that set to us to other's go. 
 
WRITTEN FOR A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 Dear Charlotte, from a serious Muse, 
 A serious song do not refuse, 
 
 It springs from love ; 
 Like seldom counseller in life, 
 Unmov'd amid the gen'ral strife, 
 
 It points above. 
 
 But, why should Bard excuse require, 
 As in his hand he holds his lyre ! 
 
 Music's divine : 
 And when to meaner ends 'tis given, 
 It from its birth is distant driven. 
 
 And herds with swine. 
 
 But still J will of woman speak, 
 And for herself her roses deck, 
 
 As rich as spring : 
 From her own heart her beauties take, 
 And from her life its flow'rets rake, 
 
 And round her fling. 
 
WRITTEN FOR A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM. 73 
 
 But I shall not those beauties call, 
 Which may delight and charm for all, 
 
 In woman fair ; 
 Nor have her dancing in the room, 
 Or, foolish sporting o'er her tomb, 
 
 In madness there. 
 
 Nor will I on her jewels throw, 
 Or costly robes that round her flow, 
 
 In splendor bright ; 
 Nor gift her tongue with pertest wit, 
 As idle coxcombs 'round her sit, 
 
 On merry night. 
 
 But she whose worth the muse would paint, 
 Shall be throughout the very saint, 
 
 Then imitate. 
 Her hands on earth, her eyes in Heaven, 
 Her soul to good-deeds constant given, 
 
 With ardor great 
 
 I'd place her in the closet hid, 
 As precious drops bedew her lid, 
 
 In weeping bent ; 
 Or where her cheek grows bright with love, 
 As oft she lifts her heart above, 
 
 By rapture rent. 
 
 7 
 
74 WRITTEN FOR A YOUNG LADY's ALBUM. 
 
 I'd see her by the cottage bed, 
 As soft she rubs the saintly head, 
 
 In sympathy ; 
 Or, mid the weeping sons of want, 
 As tender she their griefs would count, 
 
 With charity. 
 
 Or toiling on a distant shore, 
 I'd see her soul by pity tore, 
 
 For error's dupes ; 
 As oft the word of life she'd give, 
 And teach the dying how to live, 
 
 In largest groups. 
 
 Or on the gloomy bed of death, 
 
 With smiles I'd see her yield her breath, 
 
 In hands of God ; 
 Then spreading wide her wings of love, 
 Pass shining to the courts above, 
 
 By angels trod. 
 
 Such be the beauties I would throw, 
 Around the fairest here below, 
 
 With lib'ral hand; 
 Immortal life to Roses give, 
 And teach the Lilies how to live, 
 
 On heavenly land. 
 
THE BIBLE. 75 
 
 Such beauties, Charlotte, e'er be thine, 
 Such graces round thy spirit twine, 
 
 In richest dress ; 
 That fair among the fairest there, 
 Thou may'st in Heaven at last appear, 
 
 In righteousness. 
 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 
 
 As once along a sea-beat shore, 
 
 Where many a sage had stroll'd before ; 
 
 A lonely stripling moved along, 
 
 To sound the depth of right and wrong : 
 
 Deep-wrapt in thought he probed his theme, 
 
 And seemed to walk beneath a dream : 
 
 Till now at last his spell was broke, 
 
 As near his side a stranger spoke. 
 
 i Friend, ' said the wight, ' if you would know 
 
 The safest rules for man below, 
 
76 TO MELDA. 
 
 The brightest light to mortals given, 
 The path that leads from earth to heaven : 
 Read then this Book — it came from God, 
 And bears the impress of his Word ; 
 Nor can your boasted Schools beside, 
 Produce for youth so safe a guide. ' 
 
 TO MELDA. 
 
 Melda, I love, yet can't tell why ; 
 But, yet, I know I love thee well : 
 'Tis not thy person, or that eye, 
 Betok'ning goodness, that has fell, 
 Alas ! too seldom on my face : 
 'Tis not thy flowing auburn hair, 
 Thy marbled forehead, or thy cheek 
 Of red ; or, face of angel fair ; 
 Or, spirit living there so meek, 
 That gives in thee my soul a place. 
 
TO MELDA. 77 
 
 *Tis thy whole self — so perfect all, 
 That takes me captive at thy will : 
 *Tis all thy graces, that do fall 
 So heavily on me, and that fill 
 My soul with such an ardent glow. 
 Forbear ; or, take the prisoner : 
 Shed your beauty ; or, a little part, 
 At least of that sweet empire there 
 Bestow — Oh, give me, M. your heart — 
 The greatest boon to me below. 
 
 Like a hid water from the hill, 
 Descending gently by each tree, 
 That finds nor brook, nor kindred rill ; 
 A stranger tide — I fix on thee : 
 Oh to be mingled into one ! 
 I saw thy glassy breast that pour'd 
 Its richness down yon mountain-side : 
 And as thy glist'ning drops were lower'd, 
 I hop'd to make of thee my bride : 
 Come, join me ; and the work is done. 
 
 Commingled stream, we then shall roll, 
 On, onward to the ocean's wave — 
 One water and one precious soul — 
 The sweetest stream that shore doth lave. 
 
78 TO A BABE. 
 
 An ever-winding, holy tide. 
 Who drinks of one, will other taste ; 
 Who sails on one, will other ride ; 
 Who harms a part, will other waste ; 
 Who blesses one, will bless the tide : 
 Oh say — Wilt thou become my bride ? 
 
 TO A BABE. 
 
 Fair bud of life immortal, hail ! 
 
 Nor with thy breath commence thy wail — 
 
 For still o'er deserts roses bloom, 
 
 And green-trees grow round death's cold tomb. 
 
 The scene before is mix'd, 'tis true, 
 With sorrow's tears, and conflicts rue ; 
 Still mid those tears sweet smiles appear. 
 And mid those toils, sweet peace is there. 
 
 Tho' steep the way with many a clift, 
 As oft their tall-heads mountains lift ; 
 
TO A BABE, 79 
 
 Yet 'long their sides a pathway leads, 
 From danger free, and free from dreads. 
 
 Tho' dark clouds oft the heavens o'ercast, 
 And rough-streams too do sometimes waste ; 
 Yet oft that sky resplendent looks, 
 And oft those torrents turn to brooks. 
 
 Vice too with all her dismal crew 
 Will often crowd, the op'ning view ; 
 But then in contrast Virtue stands 
 With smiling aspect, welcome hands. 
 
 Mid scene thus mix'd, thus varied o'er, 
 We hail thee, Babe, at natal hour ; 
 And to thy lips the cup apply, 
 Of happiness — not misery. 
 
 We hail thee, not as pleasure's slave, 
 Nor victim fell of misery's grave ; 
 Nor vagrant on the field of life, 
 Nor mopish dupe of sorrows rife. 
 
 Heaven make thee wise in all to choose, 
 Heaven make thee wise thy time to use ; 
 Sustain thee through the varied road, 
 And take thee home at last to God. 
 
THE RAINY S A B BATH. — 1832. 
 
 Zion's sweet day of rest again has come, 
 And bids her sons with many an odor sweet 
 Go see the place where mangled and alone, 
 The Hope of Israel lies, by angels watched. 
 Or, pointing higher, parts wide away the sky — 
 Opens the gates of New Jerusalem, 
 And shows their Lord by thrones and powers ador'd. 
 While thousands to thousands cry, " Holy Lamb ! " 
 The gladsome news — Salvation, Pardon, Peace, 
 On wings of swiftest wind fly thro' the land : 
 While Earth enraptured from her heart of joy 
 Rolls back the song, " Most Holy, Holy Lamb ! " 
 But why, so mournful glad, sweet Day of rest ? 
 Why sparkle not the mountains, vales and woods ? 
 Why such gloomy liv'ry cast o'er Nature's face ? 
 Why shines no sun, as wont, from mid-sky bright ? 
 And thou, O Zion, w r hy so still, so sad ? 
 Why rolls no herald's voice along thy walls ? 
 
AFRICA. 81 
 
 Why breaks not forth on high, and loud, thy praise ? 
 And why no sons now at thine altars bend ? 
 The clouds have overspread thy Sabbath-sky — 
 Torrents fast falling beat hard the ground — 
 The wind is high and bleak, and full the streets — 
 And Zion's sons now pent look mournful out. 
 
 But yet, weep not Zion — Sit still and learn 
 To rest upon the arm thou canst not bend. 
 That Hand which fills yon sky with rain and gloom, 
 Upholds thee too — then, let his will be done. 
 Soon will he break thy clouds fore'er away, 
 Soon he Himself thy Sun, thy Light, thy Joy — 
 And on the shores of blest Eternity, 
 Give thee a Sabbath, sinless and complete. 
 
 AFRICA. — 1832. 
 
 From Northern Barbar to the Southern cape, 
 From Western Guinea to the Mozambique ; 
 Dark superstition holds her bloody sway, 
 And death is gorged with many a welcome prey. 
 
82 AFRICA. 
 
 Her kings are despots, and her gods are fiends, 
 Her worship orgies, and her music screams ; 
 Around her palace hang the skulls of foes, 
 And heads on heads lie thick around her doors. 
 Her inner forests hear the clash of arms, 
 Her coasts and cities shake with dire alarms ; 
 Her winds blow hatred, and her rain is blood, 
 Her leagues are ruptures, and her friendships rude. 
 . Satan's dread kingdom spreads from far to near, 
 Whose sun is darkness, and whose hope, despair ; 
 And with an iron rod of mountain weight, 
 He breaks the nations here both small and great. 
 Where then, O Afric, shall thy help be found ? 
 Oh tell us where ? if not in gospel-sound ? 
 Earth's cold charity but looks and passes by ; 
 And reason unrenewed but heaves a sigh — 
 Mere Science yields her glimm'ring light in vain, 
 Her strength is weakness and her mercy pain. 
 But Gospel Truth can break thy chains apart, 
 Disperse thy gloom and sanctify thy heart ; 
 Its still small voice shall turn thy screams to joy, 
 Break down thy temples and thy tongues employ. 
 
LINES; 
 
 dlt HEARING OF THE DEATH OF THE REV. PLINY FISKE, MISSIONART 
 TO PALESTINE.— -1826. 
 
 Across th' Atlantic's rolling breast, 
 Sad news re-echoes on the West ; 
 Plaintive and slow it strikes th' ear, 
 And fills the eye with sorrow's tear. 
 For who that breathes a christian's breath, 
 When hearing of a Pliny's death, 
 Would blush to shed a tear ? 
 
 But if on gospel-lands there are, 
 
 Whose griefs would die suppressed by fear ; 
 
 The willow growing by the side, 
 
 Of Jordan's slow and mournful tide 
 
 Shall weep, O Pliny, o'er thy tomb, 
 
 And over Palestina's gloom, 
 
 And shame the christian's pride. 
 
 Or if America, so blest, 
 Shall scorn Jerusalem oppressed, 
 The oak that shades a Pliny's grave, 
 O'er slumbering Fiske a tear shall wave ; 
 
84 LINES ON THE DEATH OF REV. PLINY FISKE. 
 
 And mourn the mis'ry of a Land, 
 Which groans beneath a cursing Hand, 
 Once powerful to save. 
 
 Oh Judah ! once the favor'd place, 
 Where Jesus proffer'd heavenly grace ; 
 How dark the cloud that fills thy sky, 
 And sinks thy name in misery ! 
 By oft refusal of thy God, 
 Thou long hast felt the scourging rod, 
 That speaks thy destiny. 
 
 But hope again had cheer'd thy heart, 
 And bid thy wretchedness depart ; 
 That Gospel which thou once didst spurn, 
 In smiles besought thy late return : 
 Her Fiske and Parsons spent their might, 
 To rescue thee from gloomy night, 
 They died for thy return. 
 
 Oh Fiske ! beloved name ! 
 What honors shall attend thy fame, 
 When ages yet unborn shall hear, 
 The sufferings which thy soul did bear, 
 To pluck from sin's oppressive gloom, 
 The Land which bears thy Saviour's tomb ; 
 It now thine own doth bear ! 
 
THE FATHER'S DEATH-BED.— 1832. 
 
 The sun of time behind the hills, 
 His latest journey now fulfills ; 
 While on the solemn tree -tops far, 
 His fading tints he scatters there. 
 
 The mighty noise of men employ 'd, 
 Now on the ear fall dull and cloy'd ; 
 Then farther still, and faint — and gone — 
 It leaves the dying all alone. 
 
 Like fun'ral music on the winds, 
 Now comes the sad farewell of friends : 
 While squeezed his cold hand they depart, 
 And bleed distrest in every heart. 
 
 Still round his bed his partner weeps, 
 Still by his side, she sleepless vigils keeps, 
 His children too around him sigh, 
 
 And watch the dim-light of his eye. 
 
 8 
 
S6 the father's death-bed. 
 
 He groans, and with the monster strives, 
 They weep as if they wept their lives ; 
 Again he groans, and bids them hope, 
 They on the cold frame quickly drop. 
 
 But now, life's taper sickly burns, 
 Now glares, and almost dies, by turns ; 
 The shades of death around him spread, 
 And darkness settles on the dead. 
 
 Along the deep vale now he goes, 
 As at its font his life-blood froze ; 
 The dark still grave now meets his view, 
 And scenes both terrible and new. 
 
 But soon Death's darkness flies away, 
 He wakes, and rapid comes the day ; 
 Red blushes in the morn appear, 
 Nor sorrows known, nor shadows there. 
 
 Now music bursts upon his ear, 
 And scenes seraphic meet him here ; 
 Death's struggles, tears are all forgot, 
 And he, Immortal changes not. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD.— 1833. 
 
 From seat amid the blest above, 
 The Babe we mourn looks down, 
 And as its heart dissolves in love, 
 It chides us with a frown. 
 
 Weep not for me, ye parents dear, 
 Nor spend your griefs in vain ; 
 There are no drops of sorrow here, 
 And we shall meet again. 
 
 My stay on earth was short, 'tis true, 
 But long enough to see ; 
 The vale of tears that filled my view, 
 And griefs that grew for me. 
 
 As o'er the scene I cast my eye, 
 I saw the roses fade ; 
 While quick I sprung to joys on high, 
 As God those joys displayed. 
 
88 my mother's death. 
 
 Now raised by grace divine on high, 
 Frail infancy is gone ; 
 No more I heave a restless sigh, 
 But praise around the Throne. 
 
 Reject the tears then shed for me, 
 But for yourselves weep on ; 
 That you may be prepared to see, 
 The Little One now gone. 
 
 MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.* 
 
 Part. L 
 Upon yon bed obscure, 
 With three around demure, 
 
 Who ? s dying ? 
 My Mother ? Yes — ah me ! 
 And these her children three, 
 
 Now crying. 
 
 * My Mother died in 1835, attended by her daughter and two of 
 her sons. In consequence of rain and distance, there was no funeral, 
 and she was buried at night. 
 
MY MOTHER'S GR AVE. 89 
 
 Upon that lonely herse, 
 With crowd nor solemn verse, 
 
 Who 's going ? 
 My Mother ? Yes, 'tis she, 
 And these her children three ; 
 
 Still woeing. 
 
 And on that graveyard plat, 
 At midnight, and forgot ! 
 
 Who 's burying ? 
 My Mother ? Yes, ah me ! 
 And these her children ? — see ! 
 
 Interring ! 
 
 Part. II. 
 
 But she shall never go, 
 So still from human wo, 
 
 At dying : 
 For many a filial heart, 
 Now rent beneath the smart, 
 
 Is crying. 
 
 Her funeral are the tears, 
 
 Her worth has bought for years. 
 
 While living : 
 
 8 * 
 
THE GRAVE. 
 
 Her Jomb-stone pillars they, 
 She now bequeathes away, 
 Entombing. 
 
 And on some future page, 
 Still read by other age, 
 
 Exclaiming : 
 May this poor, feeble verse, 
 My Mother's praise rehearse, 
 
 Unnaming. 
 
 THE GRAVE. — 1826, 
 
 The Earth had turn'd from Nature's light, 
 The shades of eve were dropping round ; 
 Sad stillness reign'd o'er every site, 
 And groves were dark with gloom profound ; 
 'Twas then among the sleeping dead, 
 With solemn awe and silent tread, 
 I thought upon the grave. 
 
THE GKAVEi 91 
 
 Around me lay the great, the small, 
 The proud, the wealthy and the good ; 
 Confounded in one mass they all, 
 Were chang'd by death to wormy food : 
 Here , youth was blasted, hopes were spoil'd, 
 There, manly strength by Death was foil'd, 
 They slept in common grave. 
 
 I paused — and thought on earthly bliss, 
 I thought on grandeur and on power ; 
 And surely, said I, is it this, 
 For which all mortals spend their hour ? 
 A grave they gain through dismal strife, 
 A grave is all they win through life, 
 A gloomy, silent grave ! 
 
 I thought on pleasure and it seem'd, 
 As empty as the bubble's burst ; 
 I thought on glory, and it deem'd, 
 A fatal puff for men accursed : 
 I thought on riches, and they died, 
 And sunk by Death's resistless stride, 
 They perished in the Grave. 
 
 And when again I look'd o'er earth, 
 And saw how mortals toil and strive 
 
OS THE GRAVE. 
 
 To gain a name, or gild a birth ; 
 I thought it vanity to live : 
 For while they'd seek substantial good, 
 They fall, deceiv'd in fatal mood, 
 And perish in the grave. 
 
 O Man ! how vain is every hope, 
 If placed on earth's unsteady base ; 
 The noblest minds uncertain grope, 
 Unless posses'd of heavenly peace ; 
 Then while the maze of life you slide. 
 Restrain your passion and your pride, 
 And think upon the grave. 
 
IB§(D)E HH. 
 
 LARGER PIECES. 
 
RETALIATION: 
 
 You say that I must hold my tongue, 
 And quit my notes, or right or wrong ; 
 And yet you hav'nt a page perus'd, 
 Tho' quite by times the Bard's abus'd. 
 
 But come brave folks, please tell the reason, 
 For to obey without, were treason ; 
 The Bard, tho' rhyming, yet has sense, 
 And if you've reasons, bring them hence. 
 
 Say they all, we'll take the banter, 
 And state objections at a venture ; 
 Perchance, we'll some the madman hit, 
 And put to death his poet's fit. 
 
 « 'Tis trifling work, may please your Rever'nce, 
 For Poet, is akin to dunce ; 
 And if you'd put two thoughts together, 
 Of rhymes, you'd never make another. 
 
96 RETALIATION. 
 
 Besides, your cloth is quite in danger, 
 To citizen as well as stranger ; 
 For people like the stern divine, 
 And not the Bard of empty line. 
 
 Again 'is truly out of time, 
 And quite amounts to serious crime ; 
 What ! to have a Southern verse ! 
 And ere we've seen the writer's herse ! ! 
 
 Nor this the least, we know the maker, 
 He's here at home and plain as Quaker ; 
 Nor could one know without Prospectus, 
 That he intended so to shock us. 
 
 Besides, if not insanity, 
 
 'Tis sure the hight of vanity ; 
 
 Parnassus' top is awful high, 
 
 And Zion's mountain meets the sky. 
 
 Nor did you ask us to advise, 
 But we are taken by surprise ; 
 Before we know a word about it, 
 You are ready quite to shout it. 
 
 And one word more — it 's costly — look, 
 It 's several dollars for a book ; 
 
RETALIATION. 97 
 
 The times are hard — cotton's falling, 
 And such expenses are appalling. 
 
 Now if you'd put all these together, 
 You could not hesitate, whether 
 To burn the sheets, or send abroad, 
 For you are tempting man and God. 
 
 Oh Fates ! that cast my wretched birth, 
 In such a mean and grov'ling earth ! 
 That threw society around me, 
 As if by iron-walls to bound me ! 
 
 Sooner would I live in Nature's wild, 
 Nature's own, tho' orphan'd child ; 
 Sooner dwell in grottoed cave, 
 And sooner rest within my grave. 
 
 If friends are clamps, and men are chains, 
 To fetter down my very brains ; 
 Then I could bid them all adieu 
 And only wish I never knew. 
 
 With Harp in hand, I'd stray abroad, 
 
 Where Nature listens, listens God ; 
 
 Where never should a sordid crowd, 
 
 Hiss at my notes as peal'd aloud. 
 9 
 
981 RETALIATION. 
 
 But no, I'll not an inch re-treat, 
 
 Or smile the multitude, or fret ; 
 
 But grow they worse, or grow they better, 
 
 I'll publish soon in ev'ry letter. 
 
 And now brave folks, since you have ended, 
 'Tis time I had myself defended ; 
 And if you've only time to hear, 
 I'll now address you, man or bear. 
 
 1 You say 'tis mean employment, 
 And in it no enjoyment ; ' 
 Forgetting that the Saints above, 
 Forever sing as well as love. 
 
 i It also lies without your station, 
 And ill consists with your vocation : ' 
 Know ye not the Preacher's Bible, 
 Is filled with verse and parable ? 
 
 You also hate a Southern song, 
 And scorn it soon, or right, or wrong ; 
 Pray, why affect the patriot then, 
 And emphasize so, Southern men ? 
 
 But then you all despise the writer, 
 Because he is 'nt a little greater ; 
 
RETALIATION. 99 
 
 Yet when he'd swell his size a little, 
 You'd boil him soon, in pot or kettle. 
 
 And you disdain the pride it shows, 
 And wish to kill in time with blows ; 
 But if you never wrote a line, 
 Pray, why be envious so at mine ! 
 
 In reference to advices, pray, 
 What could the people say ! 
 I fear they'd talk so much and fast, 
 That I'd their counsel lose at last. 
 
 And as concerns the mighty cash, 
 'Tis only with a mightier lash, 
 That ye could make me bow myself, 
 And pay my homage to the elf. 
 
 And now brave critics ye are answer'd, 
 
 Nor should ye think yourselves here censur'd ; 
 
 And yet I must a little add, 
 
 Or make you smile or make you mad. 
 
 Ye first the gauntlet boldly threw, 
 And I'll the gauntlet hurl at you ; 
 And teach, who trifles with a Poet, 
 Shall one day yet his folly woe it. 
 
100 RETALIATION. 
 
 To tell you then the truth in hurry, 
 I hate your self-constructed jury ; 
 And from a bench so bent on killing, 
 I'll elsewhere look, and look more willing. 
 
 But tell us plain before I leave you, 
 Why my verse should so much grieve you ; 
 And this before you ever read it, 
 Or other, save the one who made it. 
 
 Or if you'd take my explanation, 
 And read it through without vexation ; 
 I'll undertake the weighty task, 
 And tear from you the mighty mask* 
 
 Ye have no music in your souls, 
 And therefore turn so soon to scolds ; 
 If all your hearts were put together, 
 Your song would not be worth a feather. 
 
 'Tis want of ear, 'tis want of taste, 
 That makes you scorn me so in haste ; 
 'Tis not in me the objection lies, 
 Please tear the beam from your own eyes. 
 
 Your minds are on the market plac'd, 
 On Cotton gains and Cotton waste ; 
 
RETALIATION. 101 
 
 On Steamboats, Packets and the Dray, 
 And news of every passing day* 
 
 'Tis Banks, and Capitals, and Cash, 
 Which build your hopes or sudden smash ; 
 Ye live upon the car of trade, 
 How much is lost, how much is made ? 
 
 Oh what a world we 'Id shortly have. 
 All filPd with honest men — no knave ; 
 If every man would seek his gains, 
 And ply to making cash his brains. 
 
 It matters not if we've no schools, 
 Such things are only fit for fools ; 
 Nor aught concerns, us able lore, 
 We have enough, enough and more. 
 
 Poets, learned men and authors, 
 Those vile, contemptible mouthers ; 
 Shall ne'er appear among us, 
 Lest to viler things they bring us. 
 
 We love a noble freedom, 
 
 And therefore will not breed 'em ; 
 
 Lest we very tyrants raise, 
 
 To scourge us in our noble ways. 
 9 * 
 
I 
 
 102 RETALIATION. 
 
 Depart — depart, ye bookish drones, 
 And leave us to our monied thrones ; 
 We love enjoyment and play, 
 Not study — time so thrown away. 
 
 We love the race-ground's prancing steed, 
 And city ponies of the Gilpin-breed ; 
 Rattling carriages and windows, 
 Rich in gold for highest bidders. 
 
 Festivals we love and barbecues, 
 Rich puddings and fine stues ; 
 Glasses too, deep-filled with wine, 
 And glittering robes that round us shine. 
 
 Oh what a heaven of heavens 'twould be, 
 With all thy blessings Gold and thee ! 
 We'd have such Paradise below, 
 As 'nother never wish to know. 
 
 Mean spirit ! I contemn thy choice, 
 And 'gainst thy folly raise my voice ; 
 Rise from the dust, thou crawling thing, 
 And brighter glory round thee fling. 
 
 Native Land ! With all thy faults, I love thee, 
 And weep, as others climb above thee ; 
 
CAN00CHEE. 103 
 
 My heart it longs to see thee rise, 
 To thy own fair and glorious skies. 
 
 But never — write it on thy heart, — 
 Never, never, wilt thou start ; 
 Until divorc'd from love of cash, 
 Thou cease the soaring mind to lash. 
 
 CANOOCHEE. 
 
 OR CHILDHOOD REVIVED. 
 
 Sweet land, that gave me birth, how still 
 Hast thou become ! A pensive gloom, 
 Deep-ting'd sits silent o'er thy hill ; 
 And at thy coverd feet the tomb 
 Of thy deep-sighing waters roll. 
 Thy widow'd trees with mourning drest, 
 Now bending low embrace thy breast, 
 As down thy cheek the tears fast fall. 
 
104 CANOOCHEE. 
 
 Yet mid thy neglected ruins, 
 
 With orphan'd heart and awe-touch'd feet, 
 
 I wander, clinging to the scenes 
 
 My youth's bright morn esteem'd so sweet. 
 
 While here, reflected from thy breast, 
 
 The shadows of the past I see, 
 
 Paying my homage, Land, to thee, 
 
 And rapture finding in a waste. 
 
 Sacred the spot ! at least to me, 
 My heart-strings yet are round it tied. 
 My youth's first-love, now rip'd, to thee, 
 Dear Land, I pay, as when a bride 
 Thou stood'st adorn'd with every charm : 
 I have not yet, nor can I e'er 
 Forget a place to me so dear, 
 Around thee still I throw my arm. 
 
 Away, away, great world ! The tomb 
 I visit of my youthful days ; 
 This silence and this grave yard gloom 
 I love — I see my childish ways 
 Still deeply prest upon the ground ; 
 My own young footsteps here I view, 
 My former self, among them too 
 And once belov'd associates round. 
 
CAN00CHEE. 105 
 
 Tis yet more holy ! Here I see 
 My parents — sacred name, and dear, 
 Their portraits hang on ev'ry tree ; 
 And on the ground neglected here, 
 Their trampled relics scattered lie ; 
 Their former steps I weeping trace, 
 Their words I hear in ev'ry place, 
 And catching the fleeing image cry. 
 
 And now around me crowd the men 
 Of that past day — th' departed life 
 Of things now gone — who cheerly then 
 Join'd in the walk, the friendly strife, 
 The hunt, the play, the fisher's sport, 
 And social feats, unnumber'd kind, 
 Vanish'd, that only pain the mind, 
 To think how faded and how short. 
 
 The crowded school room too I see, 
 The Teacher and his strolling flocks 
 Of youths, that now so sportive flee, 
 In idle hour at random walks, 
 And gladness catch from every thing ; 
 Incumbent trees they quickly climb, 
 Or gather gold-flowers in their time, 
 Happiest Children of the Spring. 
 
106 CANOOCHEB. 
 
 There too my boyish self I view, 
 At teacher's knee the Alphabet 
 But stamm'ring o'er ; a pupil new, 
 Un'custom'd to the school-house yet, 
 Blushing and playful, yet reg'lar ; 
 Now gilded butterflies chasing, 
 Now th' singing grass-hopper racing, 
 Of ev'ry pastime taking share. 
 
 Here too I learnt my infant knee 
 To bow, my tongue to utter prayer, 
 Here to hallow the Sabbath day ; 
 The holy gospel how to hear, 
 And my young heart to rev'rence God. 
 E'en now I seem to see the crowd 
 Of worshippers, and hand, that show'd 
 My youthful eye, atoning blood. 
 
 Happy ! Happy scene ! On thee, 
 My youth s bright eye so sweet repos'd, 
 And unoffending heart did see 
 More beauty than a world disclos'd ! 
 It was my world, my childhood's world, 
 Nor have I since, tho' pilgrim'd long, 
 A world perceiv'd more pure, less wrong, 
 Or which more beauty has unfurl'd. 
 
CAN00CHEE. 107 
 
 Fair scene ! and holy too as fair ! 
 Be it by me fore'er enshrin'd 
 In memory — Let no intruder there, 
 Profane, what e'er on me hath shin'd, 
 As comliest star in hope's dark night. 
 The temple walls around I lift, 
 And here I'll bring my annual gift, 
 And worship where I hail'd the light. 
 
 But is it vanish'd ? Lives it not 
 
 In other regions still as exile, 
 
 Banish 'd by some ruthless hand ? What ! 
 
 Has so much comeliness perish'd, while 
 
 I've been chasing youth to manhood ? 
 
 As widow still to grave I cling, 
 
 And round and round my eyes I fling, 
 
 To find alive what was so good. 
 
 Peep the stars from lofty canopy, 
 Hastens the long-watch'd moon to set, 
 And still I chase the dead, with eye, 
 That weeping, looks, to find them yet, 
 And shall I ? oh shall I not ? 
 Darkness, are they not with thee 1 
 Or, ye deep graves, which here I see ! 
 Oh, tell me, where to find my sought. 
 
108 CANOOCHEE. 
 
 No word I hear — Wide silence still 
 Prevails, concerting with the gloom, 
 Of walls and forest trees that fill 
 This place, and make it so a tomb. 
 Only myself I see or hear : 
 Dead, reposing all beside, 
 In one vast sepulchre, so wide, 
 As welcomes many a midnight tear. 
 
 Yes — I myself did see inter'd 
 Much, too much of this sweet dream ; 
 My own young breast hath often shar'd, 
 In what did only evil seem. — 
 I saw, I drank th' afflictive cup. 
 Here fell my father, on whose face 
 My youth's grown eye did never gaze — 
 I saw — rever'd — then saw him drop ! 
 
 The tears of widowhood here fell 
 Upon my cheek — a widow's grief: 
 (Sacred the load, what heart may tell, 
 Or who to such may bring relief:) 
 A widow's grief, I here have seen, 
 My Mother's at my father's pile, 
 My own heart wringing all the while ! 
 How deep and keen our woes have been ! 
 
CANOOCHEE. 109 
 
 That widow was poverty's heir, 
 And I with her — nakedness and want 
 Loving have we often parted there, 
 And shar'd together the amount 
 Of woes, we could not drive away : 
 As oft, like tender hen, she fed, 
 Starving herself, her young with bread — 
 Herself 'tween them and harder day. 
 
 Raiment too she furnish'd — tearing 
 From herself to clothe her sons ; 
 The worst, or any thing wearing, 
 To cover well her little ones ! 
 How oft have my own eyes beheld 
 Her hands, the cards, the roll, the wheel 
 Holding before her earliest meal — 
 Herself her children's only shield ! 
 
 Faithful Parent ! The drops that fell 
 
 From thy dear eye, still I behold : 
 
 And know for whom, and how they fell — 
 
 Still to me more rich they are than gold, — 
 
 They are my childhood's legacy : 
 
 A sacred treasure which I never see, 
 
 But, Mother, that I think of thee — 
 
 Still viewing with an extacy ! 
 10 
 
110 CANOOCHEE. 
 
 Ye, who, your parent's love, can trace, 
 Mid chested millions and estates, 
 That e'er while run in every place ; 
 To vanity and pride such baits : 
 Tho' poor, I envy not your lot, 
 My inher'tance is yet more dear ; 
 My Mother's labor and her tear 
 For me, can never be forgot* 
 
 A heart I heir, a Mother's heart ! 
 Ye inherit but gilded trash, 
 Your wealth will soon, outliv'd depart, 
 Like bright ray from the lightning's flash ; 
 But who my prize can steal away ? 
 Yours leads to vice, mine to virtue ; 
 Yours is false, mine entirely true — 
 Will I exchange then ? Never, nay ! 
 
 The influence still I feel, and shall 
 Till this warm heart ceases to beat ; 
 Whate'er I have, or be, my all, 
 I willing lay at virtue's feet, 
 As off 'ring for a Mother's love. 
 Sworn is my heart at this dear pile, 
 Virtue t' love, and want redress, while 
 Reason, or pence, or life I have. 
 
CANOOCHEE. Ill 
 
 She too fled ! I clos'd not her eye ! 
 Yet still around her stood her offspring, 
 And as she rais'd her faint last sigh, 
 And stretch'd for fairer worlds her wing, 
 Upon her breast they pour'd their tears — 
 Soon then my off 'ring too I paid, 
 And at her grave stone pillar laid ; 
 Yet still pay this in after years, 
 No paying cancels a Mother's tears. 
 
 So died the flowers that once enrob'd 
 Thy banks, Canoochee ! so pass'd away 
 Th' glory, that once so sweet englob'd 
 Thy breast, like rich-enflower'd May ! 
 So chang'd the scene of early love ! 
 Yet still, oh still, 'tis only sweet, 
 To plant on thee my exil'd feet ; 
 And 'mong thy grassy wilds to rove. 
 
 From thy exalted pines, whose moan 
 Still day and night is anthem'd out ; 
 And thy dark swamp and river's groan, 
 And bush-grown heath so spread about : 
 From all — I taste, still taste the soul 
 Of former days — with all, my heart 
 
112 THE BEREAVED PARENT. 
 
 Is one — and still I dread to part 
 From any, or, to leave the whole. 
 
 But yet I must — Then fare thee well : 
 Ye pines, and fair green trees, thou stream 
 Of loveliness, and banks that dwell 
 On either side — the whole sweet dream 
 Of childhood, a long, long adieu — 
 Yet, still, when under other sky, 
 I oft shall hither turn my eye, 
 And pay my homage, Land, to you. 
 
 THE BEREAVED PARENT. 
 
 A DIALOGUE.— 1837. 
 
 Parent. 
 
 Thou art my debtor, Death — 'twas cruel 
 To take a babe unrip'd in years. 
 What ? Dost thou thy hunger fill 
 On infant's groans, and sighs and tears ! 
 
THE BEREAVED PARENT. 113 
 
 Be nobler — strike a higher blow, 
 Come, smite the parent, or, let go 
 The child, in which he only lives ; 
 To thee his naked breast he gives. 
 
 Death. 
 
 Reproach not the servant of the Lord, 
 For such myself I ever hold ; 
 Rapid to fly but at His word, 
 Be feeble at it, or be bold. 
 Perhaps, thine heart was too much laid 
 On the young form, that now is shade ; 
 Or, Heaven saw, 'twas wise and best 
 To take it kindly into rest. 
 
 Parent. 
 
 That rest I see not. The bliss 
 My child enjoy 'd was real, seen — 
 And more, 'twas mine as well as his. 
 But now, it is as ne'er had been. 
 Restore the captive then — give back 
 My lost ; or, thee or me for rack 
 Prepare — I will thy prey regain, 
 Or, here, with thee fore'er remain. 
 
 10 * 
 
114 THE BEREAVED PARENT. 
 
 Death, 
 
 Parent, beware — Thy time will come, 
 
 Perhaps, too soon — for at the bid 
 
 Of Him I serve, I'll give thee room, 
 
 And close thine eye with its cold lid. 
 
 But, to restore is not my trade, 
 
 My task 's to kill what God hath made. 
 
 Till the stars and sun depart, 
 
 The clods shall press thy infant's heart. 
 
 Parent. 
 
 Creator ! Is this the fate 
 Of him thou callest, crownest man ? 
 How is it then that he is great ; 
 When from the grave he never can 
 His best-belov'd recall, but stands 
 Himself so threaten'd on the sands 
 Of death, weeping, as if the dead, 
 For those but just before him fled. 
 
 God. 
 
 Worm ! Thou knowest not my plan. 
 Where wast thou ere thy worship'd dust 
 Was form'd and moulded into man ? 
 And art thou griev'd because it must 
 
THE BEREAVED PARENT. 1 15 
 
 Be turn'd to earth again ? Be still, 
 And bow submissive to my will ; 
 Or, if thy spirit yet rebel, 
 My arm shall sink thee down to hell. 
 
 Parent. 
 
 'Tis hard, but still I must submit, 
 I'm but creature — He Creator. — 
 But, oh for place on which to get, 
 A prop of heart that's greater ! 
 To lose my comforts ! see them die ! 
 Yet find no peace, but onward cry ! 
 Oh God, that made me, tell me, say, 
 Is there to peace no other way ? 
 
 Christ. 
 
 I'm the Resurrection and the Life, 
 I died and have secured it all ; 
 I'm the balm of every grief, 
 I hear the wretched's softest call. 
 The Babe that thou hast lost is mine, 
 And shall again a better still be thine : 
 O'er thee I'll watch and be thy stay, 
 And its, till Heaven's eternal day. 
 
116 THE BEREAVED PARENT, 
 
 I 
 
 Parent. 
 
 Saviour divine, supremely good ! 
 Thou art and hast what I require ; 
 No more I'll grieve in angry mood, 
 But strike my harp and wake the lyre. 
 Pardon me, Death, thou art my friend : 
 God ! thou'st taken, what thou didst lend. 
 The grave is bright — the Dead e'en smile, 
 And 1 now kiss the fun'ral pile. 
 
DB(Q)<DE USE, 
 
 ADOLPHUS. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 
 
 'Twas on a tiny country farm, 
 Where long his sires had liv'd before, 
 Far from the city's noise and harm, 
 And where the Alta laves the shore, 
 Adolphus liv'd — a youthful wight 
 And fair, as e'er beheld the light. 
 
 Not distant from his father's hearth, 
 And on a rounding little hill, 
 Where evergreens o'erspread the earth, 
 And goodliest sights the vision fill ; 
 Aloft the little temple spired, 
 Where he his childish lore acquired. 
 
 Oft, oft the schoolboy's wand'ring trail, 
 Morning and eve had he pursued, 
 And oft like swiftly winded sail, 
 Had bounded o'er the skirting wood : 
 A vig'rous, yet as studious lad 
 As faithful teacher ever had. 
 
120 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 Along the soft descending green, 
 That led him to the crystal wave, 
 Or in that neighb'ring forest-scene, 
 Or dark and labyrinthean cave : 
 How oft he led the youthful band, 
 Together skipping o'er the land. 
 
 Or when the summer's sun his rays 
 O'er nature threw, how oft the shade 
 Of some paternal tree, his plays 
 Of noonday's sportings richly made ; 
 As he with schoolboy, generous mates, 
 Would strike at ball or pitch with quoits. 
 
 And often did the Alta's tide, 
 His swift and naked limbs receive, 
 As on its rolling tears he'd ride, 
 And longly-stiffened limbs relieve : 
 With ivory necks above the wave, 
 Beside him too his school-mates lave. 
 
 For twice six autums here and two, 
 Adolphus turn'd the learned page ; 
 Of rules he read and beings too, 
 And speaking men of ev'ry age : 
 All that his teacher taught he learn'd, 
 And still for higher knowledge burn'd. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 121 
 
 Hellas and th' land of Romulus, 
 And where the great Sisostris rul'd ; 
 Bab'lon and where th' warring Cyrus, 
 When young, by sagely men was school'd : 
 All these, and many, many more, 
 He hoarded in his little store. 
 
 But still one inconvenience 
 
 His lab'ring mind perplex'd, and sore, — 
 
 He often fear'd he missed the sense, 
 
 And substited less for more : 
 
 And oft he wish'd that he had seen 
 
 The places learned men had been. 
 
 The schoolboy's day at length is past, 
 And now Adolphus takes him home ; 
 Yet towards his Alma, oft he cast 
 His eye, and wept such time had come : 
 Yet still he tries his hours to improve, 
 By loving what his parents love. 
 
 A father's toils on him descend, 
 
 Plantation-business, and the care 
 
 Of strolling herds, for him t' defend, 
 
 Servants and children — all things share 
 
 The time of him for whom was spent 
 
 So much, when he to school was sent. 
 11 
 
122 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 The weighty burden love makes light. 
 And he who glitter'd so at school, 
 Serves now his sire with all his might, 
 And uses for it any tool : 
 Such son and brother all admire, 
 As he shone brightest round the fire. 
 
 Yet still Adolphus could not rest, 
 For something troubling stir'd within ; 
 Which often gnaw'd his anxious breast^ 
 And made him wish that he had seen 
 That mighty world around him spread, 
 A hint at which he oft had read. 
 
 And often now he might be found, 
 Around the hearth or near his bed, 
 Or far in field on shady ground, 
 Where he his strolling flocks had led : 
 The inward taper kindly feeding, 
 By most intent and thoughtful reading* 
 
 The restless feeling inward grows 
 
 Consuming all that to it fell, 
 
 As he is fill'd with heart-felt woes, 
 
 And timid longs his sire to tell : 
 
 * The world, oh the great world to know ■ 
 
 I'd for it — yes — any -where go. ' 
 
AD0LPHUS. 123 
 
 His wish unask'd is gratified, 
 As 'long the fields he distant sees 
 His sire approach — and near his side, 
 Addressing earnest to him says : 
 1 My city -business now demands, 
 The labors of Adolphus' hands. ' 
 
 Leaps far his heart and smiled his face, 
 As he the friendly tidings heard, 
 And bowing with a good son's grace, 
 6 I'll quick obey your ev'ry word : 
 Only my father's will be known, 
 And on to Peyden I'll be flown. ' 
 
 J Twas told — and on he rapid flew, 
 As eagle from her mountain height ; 
 And ere the neighbors round him knew — 
 He dropt in Peyden ere 'twas night. 
 Prompts passion such a hasty speed, 
 As torrents from the mountain freed. 
 
 The scenes around him now are new, 
 For he in city ne'er had been ; 
 Nor had he known mankind but few, 
 And these were always country men : 
 A plain, yet gen'rous rustic youth, 
 Not business seeking more than truth. 
 
124 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 The far-o'er-head presiding spires, 
 
 The turrets boasting in the air ; 
 
 The convex domes with glitt'ring fires, 
 
 And roofs, ten thousand, burnish'd, glare - 
 
 His mind with swelling wonder fill, 
 
 As down he gaz'd from neighb'ring hill. 
 
 And as he saw the blocks of stone, 
 Which side by side together prest ; 
 And marbled tablets as they shone. 
 And monuments profusely drest : 
 Crowded streets that everywhere went — 
 He lost him in astonishment. 
 
 Nor died the feeling as he strolPd, 
 
 But only grew to greater height ; 
 
 For on him glories ever roll'd 
 
 As he walk'd out from dawn to night ; 
 
 6 Oh wond'rous, wond'rous place,' he then 
 
 Exclaim'd, ' more fit for Gods than men ! ' 
 
 Oft thought he, ' if the town's so great. 
 How mighty must the people be ; 
 They built it — and must surely rate 
 Far higher in excellency. ' 
 Himself he then a pigmy seem'd, 
 And as he gaz'd, he thought he dream'd. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 125 
 
 Business at length his spell unbinds, 
 And as new cares upon him fall, 
 He soon t' himself most strangely finds, 
 That he is something, they not all. 
 And soon he's justled to his place, 
 And lives in city now with grace. 
 
 The mask before him lower goes, 
 And he of mankind more perceiv'd ; 
 While as the more, the more he knows, 
 The more, and only more, he's griev'd. 
 He found them men, he found some base, 
 And soon began t' abuse the place. 
 
 In most he meanness daily saw, 
 Which in himself had never been ; 
 He thought them void of rule and law, 
 And only given up to sin : 
 Disgusted at the sight, he long'd 
 To leave in haste the city throng'd. 
 
 ' Is this the world : ' he often said, 
 
 ' So bright depicted in the Schools ; 
 
 The world of which I've often read ! 
 
 Surely, our learned men are fools : 
 
 For never did a picture miss 
 
 So far, what it design'd to dress ! 
 11 * 
 
126 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 But surety other men are not 
 What these appear to be ; surely, 
 Nature no where else doth 'lot 
 Such shameful hordes of villainy : 
 The picture yet doth somewhere hit, 
 Tho' ne'er design'd this town to fit.' 
 
 His father's bus'ness done — aback 
 Adolphus goes — His mind meantime 
 In much severer, keener rack 
 That ere he knew the city's crime. 
 Yet, burns within a stronger flame 
 To see, th' world's honor, or its shame* 
 
 His father now he boldly asks 
 Equip him for a journey great ; 
 From men he pleads to tear the mask, 
 Beholding each in his own state. 
 And for a boon so great in worth, 
 Resigns the blessings of his birth. 
 
 'Tis granted — and he stands prepar'd 
 Through ev'ry distant land to go ; 
 Where e'er curiosity steer'd, 
 Or things invited him to know. 
 His eagle-eye the world surveys, 
 As o'er its bosom now he strays. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 127 
 
 Ocean before him spreads — while in 
 The masted bark he o'er it flies ; 
 New now to him the wat'ry scene, 
 Th' expanded wave and meeting skies : 
 The sea-storm's roaring and the leap 
 Of tighted oak upon the deep. 
 
 Long leap'd the ship amid the foam 
 Of breaking waves ; and long he sigh'd, 
 Adolphus, for the hour to come, 
 When in the distant port h«'d ride : 
 And on the strand of other clime, 
 Should spend enchanted there his time. 
 
 The hour approaches — out the sea 
 
 In the grim distance grows, what seems 
 
 But dusky weeds or shrubs to be, 
 
 While o'er the deck each seaman screams, 
 
 1 Land, land, ' — as forth each voy'ger peeps, 
 
 And gladly eyes the bushy heaps. 
 
 They 're there — and forth Adolphus goes, 
 Not soils, but stranger-men to view, 
 To learn, or happiness or woes, 
 Existed here as e'erwhere too : 
 Nor found he then a diff 'rent scene ; 
 For still the place was fill'd with men. 
 
128 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 He parts — and long he strays o'er land 
 And tide, mountain, city, plain ; 
 His inward flame still briskly fann'cl, 
 By seen, and what did yet remain — 
 His journey still he manly plies, 
 With keen, and still with keener eyes. 
 
 A little, and but little yet, 
 He seem'd of fellow-men to learn ; 
 As now his mind began to fret, 
 Tho' still his wishes inward burn — 
 At length fatigued, at mountain-feet, 
 He rested long and rested sweet. 
 
He slept, he wak'd, and at his side 
 A stranger stood. Upon such face 
 Adolphus never gaz'd — so dignified — 
 Adorn'd it shone with ev'ry grace. 
 His form was large, his hair was white, 
 And glar'd his raiment as the light. 
 
 Rising, Adolphus blushing spoke : 
 
 6 Sire of Ancient Time — for such 
 
 Thou seemest in thy sagely look — 
 
 Long stray'd, and wand'ring far and much 
 
 I find me here. By toil outdone 
 
 I sought this shade from burning sun. 
 
 Yet still I purpose other lands 
 And far remote to see. My way 
 Is long. An object great demands — 
 Which urging instant makes me stray, 
 I seek a knowledge of my race : 
 Pers'nal and true in ev'ry place. 
 
130 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 Perhaps thine age may me instruct, 
 My journey shorten, or effect 
 Easier — something at least deduct, 
 Or, furnish 4 way-bill to direct. 
 Can then your Rev'rencfc aid a youth, 
 Whose whole pursuit is human truth ? ' 
 
 Smiling the sage replied — * Fair youth, 
 Adolphus, for I know thee well — 
 'Tis glorious to pursue the truth ; 
 Nor noble less the truth to tell : 
 Thou judgest right ; my age has known 
 What is, and what of times have flown. 
 
 Long have I liv'd — my name 's Wisdom. 
 Ere first the earth was built or man, 
 I distant saw the things to come : 
 Saw all, and measur'd with my span. 
 Have liv'd with ev'ry age that's past, 
 And shall be living with the last. 
 
 My home is where the simple need 
 Instruction — docile hearts I love, 
 And seen — on rapid w T ing I speed, 
 And seek their folly to remove. 
 Thee straying I have seen, long seen, 
 And at thy side invis'ble been. 
 
ADOLPHITS* 131 
 
 Thy pursuit 's noble, but is hard — 
 The task is seldom learnt. The wise 
 And great are often here ensnar'd : 
 The human heart to human eyes, 
 Is intricate and dark and deep : 
 But God, its inmost secrets keep. 
 
 Something, howe'er thou may'st attain ; 
 That little is a priceless prize : 
 But yet thou'lt learn it with deep pain, 
 And oft away wilt turn thine eyes. 
 The heart is bad, and who looks in 
 Will sure perceive th' abyss of sin. 
 
 Yet something even here thou'lt find, 
 Unmeriting thy keenest blame ; 
 Some beauty still investing mind, 
 Not cover'd by the gen'ral shame : 
 On burning deserts green-spots grow, 
 And virtue some mid vice below. 
 
 Charitable too thou must be, 
 
 As well as just — th' evil's gen'ral — 
 
 Not a living man is free : 
 
 Thou thyself art in the thrall : 
 
 And what thou cens'rest, others see, 
 
 Perhaps still greater e'en in thee. 
 
132 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 If time thou hast then, and desire, 
 I'll quickly lead thee to the truth ; 
 And tho' thou much, wilt much admire, 
 'Twill profit all, virtuous youth. 
 Some things I'll show that ugly be, 
 Yet much in contrast thou shalt see. 
 
 Patience howe'er thou must possess, 
 
 And girded strength ; the mount is tall ; 
 
 I take thee now to higher place, 
 
 The world's best seen when looks it small. 
 
 Amid it our vision's dusted, 
 
 Nor can we ourselves be trusted. 
 
 Seest thou not that little track, 
 
 Obscurely winding mid the trees 
 
 And shrubs, that there on mountain-back, 
 
 So sweetly growing, so much please? 
 
 In easy way ascending up, 
 
 'Twill take us to the mountain-top. 
 
 There, on four exalted peaks, 
 Colossus like, that proudly stand 
 Down looking with complacent cheeks, 
 O'er all the low, descending land ; 
 I've built, in ages past, my fane, 
 And there the rude, I teach them man. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 133 
 
 If then thy will is to be taught, 
 Ascend with me, I'll be thy guide ; 
 And if thy strength forsake thee not, 
 Will lead upon the mountain-side : 
 What says thy mind ? the time is waning, 
 And we should not be here remaining. ' 
 
 * Ten thousand thanks, sire of ages, 
 For thy kindness so extended,' 
 Adolphus cries — f Parent of sages, 
 Me in time hast thou befriended : 
 What thou tellest I admire, 
 Nor less thyself thou holy sire. 
 
 My youthful strength shall lab'ring try 
 Thy side to keep, and if thou aid, 
 I trust t' ascend the mountain high, 
 And for the toil be well repaid : 
 But t' compensate for such I strive, — 
 Myself and all I have I give.' 
 
 So said — To sage extending his, 
 
 His youth's distrustful hand he gave : 
 
 And all things bart'ring to be wise, 
 
 Gloried to be fair Wisdom's slave. 
 
 Parent and child together now, 
 
 Climbing they 'scend the mountain's brow. 
 12 
 
CANTO III. 
 
 Upon the mount they stand, beneath 
 Their feet the far-down clouds are seen ; 
 As often morning's dewy breath, 
 That's breath'd upon a lake so thin : 
 While far o'erhead, colossus placed, 
 The mountain peers o'er misty waste. 
 
 No more is heard the noise of earth ; 
 The mountain cat'ract, and the roar 
 Of seas, are still as at the birth 
 Of Nature, or e'en long before : 
 Eternal solitude here reigns, 
 And silence fills th' 'therial plains. 
 
 4 Sire, sire ! ' Adolphus now exclaim'd, 
 1 We've miss'd the way, I nothing see, 
 But this great sun so bright inflam'd, 
 Those distant clouds, the mount, and thee ; 
 Why to a spot so lone I'm brought — 
 I wonder — but I find it not. 9 
 
ADOLPHUS. 135 
 
 * Dost thou ? Then lift thine eyes again ; 
 Behold yon sister mounts, and on 
 Their brows and here, my ancient fane, 
 O'er four hills spread, and yet but one. • 
 6 1 see, I see, 5 Adolphus cries : 
 1 Oh how it blinds my wretched eyes. 5 
 
 6 Then look again, and look with eyes 
 That fear no harm. A first sight may 
 Afflict, but more will make thee wise ; 
 Look, and tell me what thou see'st, say : ' 
 6 A temple — Oh how vast and fair, 
 I ne'er expected such was here. 
 
 It goes, and still it onward goes, 
 I cannot, have not seen its end ; 
 And then it upward, upward throws 
 Itself, yet upward seems to send. 
 And then like perfect crystal through, 
 It ever glitters, fresh and new. 
 
 What means it ? Surely gods have here 
 Their seats — The new Jerusalem; 
 Or ancient Paradise ; or where, 
 The Holy One resides — Oh shame ! 
 That such as I should ever gaze 
 On place so far beyond all praise.' 
 
136 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 ' It 's not enough to gaze — We've come 
 T' enter — This mask assume, my hand 
 Now take again, I'll find thee room : 
 The door I open — come here and stand 
 Upon this floor : the lowest part : 
 And satisfy thy inmost heart.' 
 
 ' Oh wond'rous ! wond'rous ! What I see ! 
 
 Surely, I never dwelt with men ! 
 
 Ages revers'd, how fast they flee ! 
 
 And I in Paradise again ! 
 
 'Tis beauteous all and not a sight, 
 
 Offends my eyelid's softest light. 
 
 That fam'ly board ! What lovely faces 
 There crowd around ! No word or look 
 Of ill. Not Venus and the Graces 
 E'er look'd so sweet. Around a flock 
 Of little angels sit — And near 
 Whom husband's heart pronounces dear. 
 
 Those Babes ! Like little ones in Heaven, 
 How they seem like infant virtues i 
 No wrongs or little blows are given : 
 While Goodness' self there nurtures. 
 These sure are not of human blood, 
 For such are cross, and seldom good. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 3 37 
 
 See too that honest workman there, 
 Diligent, yet he's happy still ; 
 He toils from love, and not from fear, 
 And labors hard, and all the while : 
 No angry looks or murm'ring word 
 I hear against his absent lord. 
 
 See too those friends, how only true, 
 Affectionate, and prompt and kind ; 
 (I've found of such but very few,) 
 They seem to keep each other's mind. 
 Together guardian angels all, 
 To stand but one, and one to fall. 
 
 That happy City too, and Town, 
 Places of trade and commerce wide : 
 Seem not by angry discords blown, 
 But live like sisters, side by side : 
 No treach'ry or unfair dealing, 
 Nor scandal 1 see or stealing. 
 
 Nor see [ here, troops marshal 'd, knaves, 
 
 Blasphemers, murderers, debauch'd, 
 
 Pirates, highwaymen or slaves, 
 
 Or faithless, that are ever watch'd ; 
 
 Sword clashes not on sword, nor tongue 
 
 Its clatt'ring vengeance pours on tongue. 
 12 * 
 
138 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 All 's peace and happiness and love ; 
 Or if a tear doth sometimes drop, 
 It falls like weepings from above, 
 And soon by friend is bottled up* 
 I see no crime, but Eden's bliss, 
 In all this happy, happy place. 
 
 If this bepictures earth — the earth 
 I've seen — it was not in my day ; 
 But long, ah ! long before my birth : 
 Or will be, when I'm turn'd to clay. 
 No more looks earth like this fair scene, 
 Than this great dome like huts of men. 
 
 Yet surely, this is lovely place, 
 And I could here forever dwell ; 
 Never my eyes have seen such race, 
 Nor do philos'phers of such tell. 
 Happy world ! wand ring on thy floor, 
 I wish thou wert a little lower. ' 
 
 6 Repress thy wonder, raptur'd youth, 
 There's more, much more that yet remains ; 
 Perhaps thou'lt yet perceive the truth, 
 And turn thy transports into pains. 
 Follow me here. These stairs tread soft, 
 As I ascend another loft.' 
 
* Shocking ! shocking ! sire, we tread 
 
 Upon the verge of hell. I fear 
 
 This place — it looks so ill — I dread 
 
 T' ascend — such ugly things are here. 
 
 From th' blest, you bring me 'mong the damn'd, 
 
 And I to look am now asham'd.' 
 
 'Hold up thy head, stand firm and strong, 
 
 No danger will yourself betide ; 
 
 And as I lead, proceed along, 
 
 And cling forever at my side. 
 
 'Tis painful to behold ; but then, 
 
 You wish to know your fellow men.' 
 
 1 Proceed — I'll go, in death or hell, 
 Or whate'er else beseems this place ; 
 I trust that all will yet be well, 
 For I e'en here behold marts face : 
 Nor is it dreadful now as first, 
 And I'm prepar'd to stand the worst. 
 
140 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 But what beseems that mighty thing 
 
 Not distant, standing there — a man 
 
 Of martial mien, as round him ring 
 
 The triumphs of death, and swords, that can 
 
 A nation carve up in a day ? 
 
 Oh what, what, is he ? Wisdom, say. 5 
 
 6 His name is Hero. At his feet, 
 See there that tide of blood that rolls, 
 As he upon it looks so sweet ; 
 The blood, the latest blood of souls. 
 See too with gore himself is died, 
 His crown, his sceptre and his side. 
 
 He sits upon a throne of hearts ; 
 
 His palace walls are made of bones : 
 
 His prompt attendants, at the mart 
 
 Of Death, he bought for tears and groans : 
 
 And t' make himself as master feel, 
 
 He'd butcher ev'ry heart with steel. 
 
 See too, descending on his head, 
 What tears and curses on him fall ; 
 Ten thousand widows those have shed, 
 Ten thousand wretches these do call. 
 He triumphs mid a storm of wo, 
 As Satan in the depths below. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 141 
 
 Behind that curtain too, behold 
 Those angry ghosts, like chain'd tigers, 
 So fierce, so cruel and so bold, 
 That make such ugly figures. 
 They wait the day of retribution, 
 To pour him wrath without dilution. 
 
 Yet on yon pile in lofty air 
 
 Behold his name, and on that wall : 
 
 And mid those written tomes that stare, 
 
 Both at his rise and at his fall. 
 
 And hear, how thousands, thousands cry : 
 
 * Oh mighty man ! ' and bow the knee. 
 
 So ; when some erratic world, 
 
 Comes sweeping o'er another's track, 
 
 Crushing a half as in its whirl, 
 
 It scrapes across its neighbor's back : 
 
 Escaped, a multitude admire, 
 
 The passing globe of awful fire ! ' 
 
 1 But see, beyond him stands, whose face 
 Looks awful, and his glaring eye 
 Shoots fury forth in every place : 
 He's silent, clam'rous, bold and shy ; 
 A restless spirit, in whose heart 
 Seem fires, that ever make him start. 
 
142 AD0LPHUS. 
 
 1 Who is he ? ' * His name is Murd'rer. 
 
 See hidden in that grove a corpse ! 
 
 How pale and mangled, torn and bare ! 
 
 And see a widow, screaming, droops ; 
 
 And tears her hair, and tries to tear 
 
 Her heart — still groaning, swooning there. 5 
 
 ' But what produc'd such awful deed ? 
 Was he derang'd ? or, was his life 
 In danger ? or did hard fate lead 
 To the event ; or, some dread strife ? ' 
 Human blood is precious ; once shed, 
 It mingles n' more in heart or head.' 
 
 1 'Twas ardent passion turn'd to hate. 
 He once the dead man lov'd most strong ; 
 And often by his side he sat — 
 Defended him when right or wrong ; 
 Two jovial friends, that oft the glass 
 Made smile upon each other's face. 
 
 But th' day — the fatal day arriv'd : 
 
 His friend insulted, tho' in jest ; 
 
 It was enough — They've not since liv'd 
 
 As formerly, and in his breast, 
 
 The dark murder, long since hid, 
 
 Its vengeance there has just since shed.' 
 
ADOLPHUS* 143 
 
 Adolphus — ' Sire, can friends act so ? 
 What ! dig each others' graves, kill : 
 Shed the heart's blood, and make it flow, 
 Like torrent from a mountain-hill ? 
 Turn wives to widows — children make 
 Orphans — fix souls in burning lake ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, yes ; and more. Themselves men love ; 
 And while you chord with them ; you'll share 
 Their self-love stretch'd. But do not move 
 Against ; or, you'll have cause to fear ; 
 You rouse the Lion ; or, mad Boar ; 
 Or, press upon a crater's core.' 
 
 1 But here is one, that walks alone 
 At night, or, when no other eye 
 Is on him. By day a drone — 
 But when the stars light up the sky, 
 As brisk as wolf, or mountain stag 
 That flies a huntsman on a crag.' 
 
 i Thief is his vile name. His gain 
 Is robbery. Than soil his hands, 
 He'd rather be his neighbors' bane ; 
 And as in Spring, destructive bands 
 Of flies, that live on fatter blood 
 Of others ; get from them his food.* 
 
144 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 ' But sire, sire, see there a beggar — 
 Poor man ! I wish I had some cash : 
 He'll starve I fear — oh see, look there : 
 He 's eating crumbs, or nuts or trash ! 
 Nor has he, alas ! a decent chair ! 
 But seats him on a chest — see there ! 
 
 He 's meanly clad, nor is he shav'd, 
 His face looks filthy ; and his feet, 
 Tir'd of the shoes they've so long sav'd, 
 Salute the eyes with blushing greet. 
 His old wool hat slaps his lean face, 
 As if it long had lost its place ! 
 
 Poor man ! There 's none of all I see, 
 Who so excites my sympathy : 
 Had I a crust I'd break with thee, 
 Or garment, give in charity. 
 I only wish I had the power 
 To drop you on that lower floor.' 
 
 4 Restrain thyself, Adolphus,' cries 
 Wisdom. * This man thou judgest wrong. 
 Come, open now again, thine eyes, 
 And penetrate that chest, so strong. 
 See there, what millions, millions rust f 
 As near, their owner needs a crust ! ' 
 
ADOLPHUS. 145 
 
 * But then, Wisdom, he lacks the claim 
 Perhaps, or necessary key ; 
 The property 's held by other name : 
 Or, he can't open — Look there ! see, 
 How large that box, and iron too ! 
 I doubt if it yield, t' him, or you.' 
 
 i He lacks the key — But then it is 
 Of his own heart. His soul is small 
 As that great vault is swell'd in size : 
 And smaller grows, as moneys fall. 
 His name is Miser — a poor wretch, 
 That loves before his ore to stretch. 
 
 'Tis not the want of needed seat, 
 That keeps him on that iron box ; 
 But grov'ling love of gold, so sweet, 
 And constant fear of thievish knocks. 
 His very heart is in that treasure, 
 And there is hid his only pleasure. 
 
 He's forgotten himself, and all 
 
 Beside ; and therefore lives in rags, 
 
 He smiles as gold crowns inward fall, 
 
 But, at a mouse's tread, he flags. 
 
 A starving vulture on a carcass, 
 
 Nor eats — and gives to others less.' 
 13 
 
146 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 ' 1 hate the man — my very soul 
 Is filPd with deep disgust — away 
 I turn my eyes, from such a whole 
 Of meanness, as I see this day, 
 I hope, good sire, you'll keep him here, 
 The world below wants not him there.' 
 
 But here's the Belle of this strange place ! 
 Ay : perfection among the bad ! 
 Such a form ! and smile ! and face ! 
 'T would melt the heart of any lad : 
 Her eyes roll beauty, and her glance 
 Shoots love, as from a Spartan lance: 
 
 I melt — Yet much I much admire, 
 What brought her here ; very angel 
 In her bright look and sweet attire, 
 Treading on the floor of hell. 
 See I what I seem to see, 
 Or dream? Sire, I appeal to thee.' 
 
 6 Beware, Adolphus how you gaze 
 On that bewitching face. Untaught 
 As yet, the awful, awful maze 
 Of sin, such knowledge may be bought 
 Too dear. Such look, is often crime, 
 Its end, pollution, death and shame. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 147 
 
 That smiling angel-form is what 
 She does not seem to be. Who loves 
 Will surely long bewail his lot : 
 For tho' like virtue's self she moves, 
 Corruption reigns within her heart, 
 And in each hand she bears a dart. 
 
 Her name is Lewdness. Her smile 
 Is affectation's grin — her form 
 But death in a bewitching style ; 
 And her embrace a burning storm 
 Of wo. Midr all this sinning host, 
 None kill the soul at higher cost. 
 
 See ; how she changes as you look — - 
 Spring melts to winter in her face, 
 All beauty too has now forsook 
 Her person ; and each winning grace 
 Has fled ; as now, she blasted stands, 
 Like snow-smit flower in Northern lands. 
 
 Nor she alone. See, near her side. 
 Mid tears and groans and agonies, 
 Expires a pale — once beauteous bride : 
 (Now personality of sighs ! ) 
 It was that moonlight Beauty there, 
 That made this Virtue wither here. 
 
148 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 And yonder in that merry throng, 
 Where mis'ry and death seem not t' be, 
 Amid the cheer and bursts of song : 
 Cast there thine eye, and closely see, 
 A youth by vicious love ensnar'd, 
 That ruin'd, her bitter fate hath shar'd.' 
 
 ' Thank you, sire, I see my error — 
 
 Woman I love and much admire : 
 
 But from so dread a female terror 
 
 I'll fly, as from a threat 'ning fire. 
 
 But yet, a modest lass is sweet, 
 
 And virtuous youth, when e'er such meet.' 
 
 6 But there is one who needs our aid. 
 His bones are surely broke, or cut 
 His muscles. He stands — is laid — 
 Staggers — falls — he's also sick, but 
 Strange, he blusters, as if in rage, 
 Or like mad lion in a cage. 
 
 His eyes are more than common red, 
 
 His face looks dyed in ruddy stuff, 
 
 He seems, as if he long had fed 
 
 On some distending food enough. 
 
 I pity and deplore ; yet hate : 
 
 Say, Wisdom, what produced such fate ? ' 
 
ADOLPHUS. 149 
 
 1 'Twas alcohol, a latent juice 
 Extracted from the better grain, 
 Yet, ne'er designed for common use : 
 TV invet'rate foe of ev'ry brain. 
 It scalds the stomach, burns the blood, 
 And fills the head with fie'ry flood. 
 
 Yet has it the magic power, 
 To turn poor mortals into gods : 
 And he that drinks, in one brief hour, 
 Rises to Paradise from clods ; 
 Sees imps and angels at his feet, 
 And he himself in kingly seat. 
 
 But tho' thus rais'd, he's soon untaught, 
 As in the ditch, or mudded street ; 
 Or, where, but brutes are ever caught, 
 He finds his drunken chair of state. 
 The brandied imps now leave his brain, 
 And he is sober wretch again. 
 
 Yet drinks, and still the burning lie 
 
 Attempts to make the solid truth ; 
 
 Till floating like an isle his eye 
 
 Sees double ; aged man or youth. 
 
 And still on burning gale he throes 
 
 His sails, a floating mass of woes.' 
 13 * 
 
150 ADOLPHTJS. 
 
 ' But why drink that which seems so ill ? 9 
 1 'Tis love for an excited state — 
 Weariness of thraldoms, which so fill 
 The bad man's day, — the foregone fate 
 Of friends, — and the unnumber'd baits 
 Which on such taste forever waits. 
 
 Such is the cause. But he that yields, 
 Takes o'er his neck a tyrant's yoke : 
 Drinks long, and laughs, and weeps and reels* 
 Repents, and sins ; while ne'er is broke 
 The fetter, which a thoughtless hour, 
 Forg'd for him with a giant's power.' 
 
 6 But, Wisdom, I'm now tir'd to see, 
 What here your rev'rend age presents, 
 The place is fill'd with villainy, 
 And e'en my courage now repents. 
 The lessons you teach I much admire ; 
 But this is filthy place, oh sire.' 
 
 6 If satisfied, then turn thee here ; 
 We'll pass to where at first we stood — 
 At more, perhaps you need not stare : 
 I'll take thee now among the good : 
 Another loft we must ascend, 
 And there you'll find your journey's end.' 
 
CANTO V. 
 
 What a brightness ! a vivid light 
 
 Now pierces through my very heart. 
 
 But darkness next — I've lost my sight — • 
 
 I faint — And must 1, Wisdom, part 
 
 With thee ? We sure approach the Throne ; 
 
 And I by fear am now outdone. 5 
 
 i Fear not ; for I am with thee still. 
 For sight — take this — a perfect cure : 
 And then thy system thorough fill 
 With this bland potion — 'twill restore. 
 An uncur'd heart is e'er opprest 
 At holiness — but cur'd, is blest.' 
 
 4 Oh what a change ! The glories melt 
 
 Into a light so calm and sweet ; 
 
 That never has my heart so felt 
 
 Th' extacy of seeing. My feet 
 
 Stand firm. And through my inmost mind 
 
 Spring joys, so calm and so refined ! 
 
152 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 Where am I, Wisdom, tell me, say : 
 
 On earth ? or, in fair Paradise ? 
 
 Lost 's the past — or, in diff 'rent way 
 
 Is viewed. New scenes before me rise : 
 
 A holy beauty smiles around, 
 
 And I seem raised on heav'nly ground.' 
 
 « This, this is the place, fond youth, 
 Where vice is changed to virtue : 
 Error uprooted yields to Truth, 
 And man to grace, as now with you. 
 Partition wall 'twixt earth and heaven, 
 Whence good and bad are adverse driven. 
 
 Who falls, unreaching yet this place, 
 Loses the end and soul of life ; 
 Dies destitute of saving grace, 
 A bundle but of hopes and strife : 
 Plants flowers on a victims head, 
 And dies what he was never made. 
 
 But cease — I brought thee here to look : 
 Not now to speculate on things 
 In Nature's deep and darkest book : 
 Phil'sophic reas'nings, often, stings 
 Plant in the heart. An honest look 
 Will solve the myst'ries of the book.' 
 
ADOLPHUS. 153 
 
 ' But sire, what means that image there ? 
 
 A living glory of fresh light : 
 
 That from above is focus'd here, 
 
 A brilliant statue, diamond bright, 
 
 That taken by a heavenly hand 
 
 From crystal throne, seems there to stand ? 
 
 His eyes are stars — his ruddy face, 
 
 Morning's young sun in brightness fair, 
 
 Identity of every grace, 
 
 He seems the pride of all to share : 
 
 Within, without a purity, 
 
 Nor weakened by variety.' 
 
 < His name is Holiness — - the soul 
 
 Of all that's right and just and good ; 
 
 The purest essence of the whole, 
 
 Created or sustain'd by God. 
 
 Of Deity himself the likeness, 
 
 Of Heaven, th' essential brightness. 
 
 But seest thou on that saintly face, 
 How silent sits that crystal tear ? 
 And yet, tho' wiped away by grace, 
 Another falls and freezes there ? 
 'Tis prompted by an inward love, 
 For God and better things above. 
 
154 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 Holiness on earth is chain'd, 
 Pure, yet strangely kept by sin ; 
 As diamond by clay is stain'd, 
 Or plant, that rottenness hath seen. 
 Yet grows it towards its native heaven, 
 To pure and sweet attraction given.' 
 
 ' But there is one, whose countenance 
 Breathes out her soul in love. Each look 
 Exhales a spicy fragrance, 
 And every lovely step she's took, 
 Plants goodness on the floor she treads ; 
 And round her hand its blessings spreads. 
 
 Her eye is keen, and brisk and soft, 
 Her gait is rapid, yet composed ; 
 She's now below, and now aloft, 
 And o'er her work has never doz'd : 
 From her side wing'd messengers fly, 
 And still stand others ready by. 
 
 At window there, she often stands, 
 
 And casts such looks on all below, 
 
 As might, the very darkest lands, 
 
 Through clouds, a sun of sweetness show. 
 
 And still to aid her eagle eye, 
 
 A glass the distant brings more nigh. 
 
AD0LPHI7S. 155 
 
 She listens to the tend'rest sound, 
 She seems but sensibility's self; 
 An angel treading mortal ground, 
 That loves its using, not the pelf. 
 Who is she ? Wisdom, please unfold, 
 Who richer looks than richest gold.' 
 
 1 Benevolence, is her fair name ; 
 
 Almoner of all the wretched, 
 
 In heaven and earth she's still the same, 
 
 By misery ever touched. 
 
 What others hate and proudly shun, 
 
 She bosoms as a tender son. 
 
 Distress alone is her attraction, 
 And sighs, the music which she loves ! 
 Nor brings the quantity re-action ; 
 To last, as first, she quickly moves. 
 A tireless angel doing good, 
 A saint fore'er in happy mood ' 
 
 1 But here is one of steady look, 
 His eyes are upward rais'd to heaven, 
 His hand is fixed upon a book, 
 Himself to labor constant given. 
 His treasure seems in other place, 
 For there, his conduct and his face.' 
 
156 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 ' 'Tis Faith ; firm confidence in truth 
 Hath so composed him, and hath made 
 An aged vet'ran of a youth. 
 His heart is on the Gospel laid. 
 His business here ; his home afar ; 
 Himself a brilliant midnight star.' 
 
 ' But there is one who sits alone : 
 Seems thoughtful — his eye upon himself - 
 Disturbed he lifts a heartfelt groan, 
 And seems the child of inward grief. 
 Yet shines sometimes his placid face, 
 As if a bright and burning glass. 
 
 Before him stands a mirror great, 
 On which whene'er he looks, his head 
 Drops suddenly, and o'er his fate 
 Fresh tears of grief are instant shed. 
 Who is he ? Wisdom. What the glass, 
 So bright before his weeping face ? ' 
 
 ' It is Humility — a sense 
 
 Of inward sin hangs heavy on 
 
 His heart. His happy countenance 
 
 Is oft thus washed, as if undone. 
 
 Yet bursts from such a shower of rain, 
 
 And brightly shines with light again. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 157 
 
 The glass that stands before him there, 
 Is truth — on its smooth surface seen 
 His image, so dark on thing so fair — 
 He 's filled with shame and sorrows keen. 
 Yet in that mirror Virtue lives, 
 And he his homage there he gives.' 
 
 1 But there is one in secret bower, 
 With eye imploring turned above : 
 His face is saintly, and a power 
 Unseen, dissolves his heart in love. 
 From bended knee he lifts his hand, 
 And seems before his God to stand.' 
 
 ' Devotion is his name. God he sees 
 In every thing, and him adores : 
 Loves him on ocean, mid the trees, 
 And at his feet his tribute pours. 
 Feels humble, yet is truly great ; 
 Bows low, but near th' Almighty's seat.' 
 
 1 Another. What a storm around 
 
 Rages and roars and on him beats — 
 
 Persecutions, hatreds, and sound 
 
 Of ill : abuses, curses, threats : 
 
 Yet stands he calm as mountain-rock 
 
 'Neath water-fall, and takes the shock.' 
 14 
 
159 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 * 'Tis Meekness, whose heart of love, 
 Knows not to yield to things below ; 
 But strengthened strongly from above, 
 Stands smiling in abyss of wo. 
 Conqueror this of every fate, 
 And mid the greatest things, is great/ 
 
 1 But there on dying couch one lies ; 
 
 Pale is his visage, thin his mien : 
 
 On Heaven seem fixed his languid eyes — 
 
 But see ! how changed, how changed the scene ! 
 
 A clod is dropt — a seraph flies — 
 
 And he has enter'd now the skies ! ' 
 
 *It is the saint at dying hour — 
 
 There meets him Death. Death, a thing 
 
 To him of no unfriendly power : 
 
 Death, that through faith has lost his sting. 
 
 The monster strikes — he passes by : 
 
 And e'er th' next blow — is in the sky.' 
 
 ' Nor these alone. Here are Graces 
 Burning bright, that move around : 
 Beings, that with shining faces, 
 Tread heavenly on earthly ground. 
 Engaged are all in some delight — 
 Nor sinning here, nor dreaded night, 
 
ADOLPHUS. 159 
 
 The air is fragrance — every sound 
 Is music — and on each sight 
 Dwells purity — the very ground 
 Breathes love : and from on high a light 
 Shines soft, that in perpetual spring 
 Keeps all — and all things happy sing. 
 
 Happy, thrice happy, still happy place ! 
 God dwells here with man, and man 
 With God. Nature finds the grace 
 It needs — and heavenly breezes fan. 
 'Tis where the best of earth is met, 
 By that in heaven that's better yet.' 
 
 But, enough, Adolphus. Thou art 
 Still in the flesh, and other work 
 Demands my care. We now must part 
 From this fair place. Trials still lurk 
 For thee to render truly great : 
 And others now upon me wait. 
 
 My hand now take and lightly pass 
 To yonder door. I let thee down. 
 In other road, we'll find the place, 
 Where I to thee at first was shown. 
 Tho' long the journey, yet you'll find 
 Easy — downward we now shall wind.' 
 
160 ADOLPHXTS. 
 
 'Tis done. Vanishes now from sight 
 The wonders of the temple-scene. 
 They stand upon the mountain height - 
 And now they are with men again. 
 The vision too hath broke its spell, 
 And Wisdom thus doth plain truth telL 
 
CANTO VI. 
 
 1 My aid you ask'd — 'twas right, fair youth ; 
 Pride here is madness in extreme — 
 No effort is beneath the truth, 
 Tho' much may far below it seem. 
 Who owns this pearl, is rich indeed, 
 Richer than if of royal breed. 
 
 Perhaps, howe'er, there yet remains, 
 What needs some explanation ; 
 The picture yet may try your brains, 
 And give you still vexation. 
 Things seen may need interpreter ; 
 And to explain I still am here. 
 
 If then, this shade and fair green tree, 
 
 This sweetly passing breeze, and truth, 
 
 Have strong enticements still for thee ; 
 
 I'll teach thee yet, virtuous youth.' 
 
 1 The debt is mine : good sire, proceed, 
 
 I'll joy to hear, and on it feed.' 
 14 * 
 
162 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 * The world you live in is a place 
 Of mixture. Ocean has its land, 
 Water its foe in fiery blaze ; 
 Darkness, 'gainst light doth ever stand : 
 Heat wars with cold, and all that's good, 
 By all that's ill, is e'er withstood. 
 
 Guidence this, beyond a doubt, 
 Your world yet hastens to a change ; 
 Some great event will yet turn out, 
 To separate a mass so strange. 
 Hence the worth of knowing the right, 
 To stand at last with truth and light. 
 
 The picture seen exhibits man, 
 
 Man, in a three-fold character : 
 
 The partition walls which ran 
 
 Between, those scarce-seen lines that, here, 
 
 The good, and bad, and natural, 
 
 Asunder keep, and ever shall. 
 
 The lower part, which first you saw, 
 Shows man in natural beauty, 
 Not govern'd yet so much by law, 
 Or doing aught from duty : 
 By lovely impulse onward driven, 
 T' obey, as seems the law of Heaven. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 163 
 
 Have you not seen, mid angry looks, 
 A smile which sudden flashed between ? 
 Or felt mid earthquake's dismal shocks, 
 A moment's calm and placid scene ? 
 Mid sufferings, known a moment's pause ! 
 In tale of wo, a peaceful clause ? 
 
 So, mid the vilest here below, 
 Nature benignant sometimes looks : 
 And virtues tatter'd, yet do show, 
 A fragment ; as torn-up books 
 A passing leaf — sweet tempers are, 
 Oft, amid the most abandoned here. 
 
 And are they not sweet, because thus found, 
 Surrounded by a vicious crew ? 
 Are sweet herbs bitter on the land, 
 Where viler grow 1 or, truth untrue 
 Because discovered mid falsehood ? 
 The base, not base among the good ? 
 
 Things should separate be surveyed, 
 As well as in connexion : 
 Th' reverse of this has often made 
 Them lose their just complexion. 
 The ugly s'ain is not the flower, 
 Tho' seen are both in the same hour. 
 
164 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 Yet wise, we should not overrate 
 Such natural loveliness. 
 Tho' good, 'tis not of the same weight, 
 Or kind, or worth, with holiness. 
 The one is but an earthly smile; 
 Other, Heaven's image all the while. 
 
 The one is solid, permanent — 
 Shines fair in heaven, as on earth ; 
 Other, like a changing firmament, 
 Is fading from the very birth. 
 The one is strong colossal virtue ; 
 Other, oft the vices nurture. 
 
 For who, that has not oft perceived, 
 Fair nature lend to vice her charms ; 
 And as the monster goes, has grieved 
 To see him fighting with such arms ? 
 A lion, in the calf's tame skin, 
 To make anon a bloodier scene. 
 
 Yet when nature and grace unite, 
 To throw their beauties on one mind ; 
 Of all things this is loveliest sight ; 
 The happiest state of blest mankind. 
 Two painters then, their skill combine, 
 To make frail human nature fine. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 165 
 
 The second part of what was seen, 
 Exhibits man degenerate, 
 Ruin'd, lost ; the ever slave of sin ; 
 Yet, blind to his calam'tous state : 
 Seeking his happiness in wo, 
 And sinking deeper yet below. 
 
 The cause of this condition, 
 
 Is self-indulged appetite ; 
 
 The selling all, for one fruition, 
 
 Thus turning for sense th' back on right. 
 
 A first act here oft seals the fate 
 
 For on that first ten thousands wait. 
 
 Who steps from precipice, falls on. 
 
 Who breaks a dam to pass a drop, 
 
 Bids the watery whole begone. 
 
 Who turns loose fire can seldom stop. 
 
 It is in the beginning lies, 
 
 The conqu'ring strength of all the wise. 
 
 Who takes the bar from one fond lust, 
 Effects an ill he long shall wail ; 
 The rest, together, all he must 
 Pull down, and let them onward sail. 
 One outlet will the heart deplete, 
 And flood the life with sin complete. 
 
166 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 9 
 
 You 've seen the wild tornado rage — 
 Red sheets of fire a city claim : 
 The lion roar within his cage — 
 A potent gas explode in flame : 
 Imprisoned steam ten thousand whirl — 
 And read of th' course of dashing world. 
 
 But none, nor all of these compare, 
 With passion in the human soul. 
 Who meddles with one has cause to fear : 
 He may awake and stir the whole. 
 May send a broad a ru'nous train, 
 That ne'er can be forced back again. 
 
 'Tis this makes vice and ruins man : 
 A straight line bent is no more straight : 
 But one step wrong, and seldom can 
 The wisest shun, the threat'ning fate. 
 A first act ! If that be wrong, 
 Man falls beneath his foe too strong. 
 
 In highest part of that fair Fane, 
 Where met your eyes so pure a light, 
 You saw the holiest part of man ; 
 That only, which to God is right. 
 There Holiness its sweetness breathed, 
 And there her garlands Virtue wreathed. 
 
ADOLPHUS. 167 
 
 Nought but a change, within divine, 
 Can make such specimens of men. 
 The heart, the heart must God refine : 
 For holiness lives not till then. 
 But chang'd, the heart and life is one, 
 And human renovation done. 
 
 But think not, Adolphus, to find 
 Society as in the picture : 
 Mingled together are mankind, 
 And not dissevered by a stricture. 
 The good and bad together grow, 
 And this is best — God made it so. 
 
 Grieve not your heart then when you see 
 The base and good together ; 
 It is not much concern to thee, 
 If mingle birds of difF 'rent feather. 
 Thy duty is thine own — is plain ; 
 Then fret not much, at other men. 
 
 When good is seen, approach, admire ; 
 When ill, detest and keep away : 
 Thus, will you rise in virtue higher, 
 And thus, will never go astray. 
 This is the rule, on which now lies 
 Your lot in ruin, or the skies.' 
 
168 ADOLPHUS. 
 
 So said the sage, and raised his eye : 
 And while Adolphus on him gazed — 
 Stretched his snow-pinions, and did fly, 
 Where God alone is ever praised. 
 
 * My Father, Guide, ' Adolphus cried, 
 
 * And am I sever'd from your side ! ' 
 
 'Twas unreplied — He stood alone ; 
 Then wip'd his eye, and still did look 
 Where now the Reverend Sage had gone : 
 And still did weep to be forsook. 
 Then calling to mind what he had seen, 
 It seemed as if it ne'er had been. 
 
 But now himself again — he thought 
 On his journey — felt satisfied — 
 Believ'd he had not wisdom bought 
 Too dear — Then smiling, o'er the wide 
 Wide world, betook him happy home, 
 Resolved to labor not to roam. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 FM^^SBMM^Iic 
 
BOOS I. 
 
 ATHEISM AND IDOLATRY. 
 
 Eternal Father ! God of all that is ! 
 To Thee alone I dedicate my song. 
 All light, all life, all good from Thee proceeds, 
 And back to thine abode should roll all praise. 
 For Thee the Angels sweep their golden lyres — 
 For Thee the chiming spheres their music make : 
 The orb of day, the gems of night, morning 
 And eve — the roaring deep, the rippling brook, 
 The chirping bird, the buzzing bee — mountains 
 And vales, for Thee, in sweetest anthems join. 
 Amid these singing choirs, tho' least of all, 
 Permit my voice to fall upon thine ear : 
 Tune well my Harp, Parent of song, while I, 
 Thine arm extended forth o'er all thy works 
 
172 PROVtDENCE. 
 
 And government supreme exhibiting, 
 
 To Atheists teach thy Being and thy Power. 
 
 In losing rectitude, his all> man lost. 
 
 Fair Virtue and her attendant train 
 
 Of graces bright expelled, took their great flight 
 
 And clustered round the Throne where Angels bow : 
 
 While fast from Hell's dark deep a motly crew 
 
 Of vices foul and passions vile arose, 
 
 Making his heart their revelling abode. 
 
 Mid these were none more marked, than sense of guilt, 
 
 And vain affection to be great and good : 
 
 Antagonist powers indeed, and thus 
 
 Forever striving for ascendency. 
 
 Now Guilt, grown master, from his dismal throne, 
 
 Well nigh had fixed his empire fast and drawn 
 
 O'er the soul the pitch-black curtains of despair. 
 
 But Pride then rising wild, and fierce and strong, 
 
 Laborious effort made to save itself; 
 
 And reaching forth presumptuous arms on high, 
 
 Stole from the Throne fair Virtue's livery. 
 
 Thus clad, itself deformed and base, like men 
 
 Of ugly shape in gold and purple drest, 
 
 It strutted forth with elevated look, 
 
 In pompous style, and spoke with rounded words, 
 
 And talked of heirship with the gods above. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 173 
 
 Meantime, the soul no rest nor peace enjoyed, 
 But clothed in wounds and often dipt in blood, 
 It groaned and wept and prayed for ease. So when 
 On neutral ground two mighty nations war ; 
 Discord and clamor echo through the air — 
 Death's bloody banner frights the standers by : 
 Gore drops trickling from the hills and trees, 
 And a guiltless country mourns for others' crimes. 
 Or, so, when angry winds encountering meet — 
 Houses and fields and stalls and trees are torn, 
 And dashed in mid-air far, while nought is left 
 Save ruinous heaps of desolations wild. 
 So bled the soul beneath the mighty strife 
 Of conscious Guilt and vain aspiring Pride. 
 At length, elected umpire of the war, 
 The judgment-seat it fills with servile joy, 
 Resolved to satisfy by sentence wise 
 The long disturbers of its needful peace. 
 Its thoughts range far and near, and high and low, 
 And wide, to find the treaty terms of peace — 
 To reconcile things by nature opposite : 
 To give the sinner ease, yet let him sin. 
 To solve this problem Reason labored hard : 
 Imagination roved on spirit-wing 
 The vast extent of the creation round — 
 15 * 
 
174 PROVIDENCE, 
 
 And Mem'ry ran far back as thought could go : 
 
 The case was hard and all was dread suspense ; 
 
 Till, now," at length, upon the list'ning ears 
 
 Of blushing Heaven and Earth, the Judge pronounc'd : 
 
 4 Cast from the Throne the God who fills it now — 
 
 His sceptre break, his crown with dust defile : 
 
 And in his stead raise ye a God, half-blind, 
 
 Half-deaf, yielding, powerless and mean, 
 
 At once, a friend to both, to good and ill : 
 
 Or, vacant make the Throne, and bid the world, 
 
 Void of all rule and sway dash heedless on.' 
 
 Loud, glad and long, the acclamations were — 
 
 Each pleas'd because he yields to other nought. 
 
 And then combining all as if old friends, 
 
 Anon they make their God a common foe, 
 
 And turn 'gainst Heaven's peerless Throne their wrath. 
 
 But one great object now all minds employ : 
 
 To change at once the Government Supreme, 
 
 And re-elect a wiser, better God ! 
 
 Oh counsel blasphemous ! most shameful deed , 
 The blackest, deepest stain on human souls ! 
 The essence pure of all that's vile and bad ! 
 And, yet, to execute this nameless thing, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 1^5 
 
 Has been from first to last, the highest aim 
 Of half the moral Jurists earth has known ! 
 
 Tell next my Muse, that at the foot of Throne 
 Sits hearing th' Eternal speak and nothing 
 Courts t' know but truth ; tell next, the plans devis'd 
 To s anction crime and yet untaint remain — 
 To change their Sovereign and his reign improve. 
 
 And, first, of all, as if by easy grade : 
 
 As compeers next to the Eternal mind — 
 
 The almost rivals of his first domain : 
 
 They offer incense to the hosts on high. 
 
 So great reform by all both far and nigh 
 
 A hearty welcome gained ; and, many a shout 
 
 Bore far on high the great inventor's name. 
 
 To all 'twas best to see and know their God 
 
 And have him smiling at their wicked deeds. 
 
 And thus they cringed and scraped and kiss'd their palms, 
 
 And mighty effort used to make themselves 
 
 Believe, that Sun and Moon and Stars were Gods. 
 
 So, petty rebels in a roj al land, 
 
 In base contempt of him they ought to serve, 
 
 Choosing a sovereign to their wishes quite, 
 
 Vote him a crown, a sceptre and a robe, 
 
 And bending low, half-smiling call him king. 
 
176 PROVIDENCE, 
 
 But one great end was gained — freedom complete 
 
 From sovereignty of Him they so much fear'd. 
 
 By such a step, (the first towards Atheism) 
 
 He who created, holds and guides the world, 
 
 Could neither see nor know the things He made : 
 
 Could not act save by power delegate. 
 
 And thus confin'd, men could both pray and sin : 
 
 Now prostrate at the holy altar bend 
 
 In sweetest fervors of a heavenly joy ; 
 
 And, rising, plunge a brother's heart with steel ; 
 
 And, yet, most holy be to men and gods. 
 
 Pleas'd at the first reform, they wander more, 
 And give t' ancestors dead and mighty men, 
 The weighty charge of Government Supreme. 
 Born mong themselves and strongly lov'd by all 
 Men judg'd they'd wield a partial sceptre now 
 And rule the world to their advantage quite : 
 Especially, since these themselves were rais'd 
 Amid the gods on high by vote of men, 
 'Twas thought, they'd bounteous favors pour 
 On him who lowly worship'd at their shrine, 
 Tho' in his heart dwelt hate, and lust, and pride. 
 Thus heroes, statesmen, sages and their priests 
 Homage divine receiv'd from great and small : 
 
PROVIDENCE, 177 
 
 And nations all did clasp their mother earth, 
 Pour filthiest dust upon their low-bent heads, 
 And great humility at least profess, * 
 
 To honor gods by their election made. 
 
 At things so gross, Reason and Conscience frown'd ; 
 But, bribed, because abettors of the scheme : 
 And all was universal joy ; since each 
 Beheld the Crown Supreme approach himself 
 And soon supposed that he would wear it too. 
 
 Another fall they fell — and saw display 'd 
 In bird and brute and fish and tree and plant, 
 Divinity complete and Godhead uncreate, 
 And bending low most humble worship paid ! 
 The Heavens, seeing, dropt their tears of grief; 
 The Earth, long sick at heart, unheeded sigh'd ; 
 The Ocean groan'd, and all the Winds did wail, 
 As Reason erect to earthly instinct bent 
 And man groped lower than the filthy brutes. 
 
 But, one step more the dreadful work completes. 
 As if the orbs on high, and buried men, 
 And beasts, and birds, and plants, were quite too wise, 
 Had too much eye, and ear, and heart for gods, 
 
178 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 They sculptur'd deities from wood and stone : 
 A part of these they burn'd or toss'd away ; 
 Then bo w'<f before the rest in worship deep, 
 They wept and mourn'd and fed and danc'd, 
 And many twistings made of strangest sort. 
 
 Observe in these inventions gross and vile, 
 Two special features of the human heart — 
 A constant aim to pluck the crown from God 
 And place it fast upon the head of Self : 
 And moral sight growing fore'er more dim. 
 From God unmade, men look'd to sun and stars ; 
 Fatigued to look so high, to ghosts they turn'd ; 
 Next, beasts they saw, and then the chisel'd god 
 That moveless stood upon his wooden shelf. 
 
 As Earth that turns at eve from Nature's light, 
 Dark, and more dark, and darker still becomes, 
 Till midnight from his sable pole on high 
 Drops o'er the scene his fun'ral vestments wide : 
 So, turning his eyes from God, man, at first, 
 Saw but the Sun, the Moon, a star, a torch 
 A meteor and a spark — which dying, 
 Left him at last in deepest depths of night. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 179 
 
 Now sever'd from the Throne of Truth unmade, 
 
 Blind to the light of evidence around, 
 
 And steel'd at heart 'gainst ev'ry tender call, 
 
 Mid speculations deep and wild man rov'd. 
 
 All light was dark, all wisdom low and mean : 
 
 Truth became false and Virtue look'd like vice ; 
 
 While facts that once were plain were all forgot. 
 
 Whence came the world ? Whence the heavens arose ? 
 
 Whence man ? Where tending ? Deathless, or dying ? 
 
 If immortal, forever blest or curs'd ? 
 
 What's Vice ? And Virtue what ? Distinct, or join'd ? 
 
 The road to happiness where ? And how to find ? 
 
 Lives there a God at all ? His being what ? 
 
 Sees he the world ? Or, lets it whirl unseen ? 
 
 All these were queries hard for him to solve. 
 
 And, thus for want of argument complete, 
 
 'Gainst which he long has closed his weaken'd eyes, 
 
 He nothing solid found on which to rest ; 
 
 But roll'd mid fancies but by fancies prop'd. 
 
 So, in the midst of ocean deep and wide, 
 
 In vain the seamen cast their anchor forth : 
 
 The longest line no bottom finds ; but all 
 
 Are watery deeps of unsubstantial wave ; 
 
 While leaps the ship by angry billows toss'd. 
 
180 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Each for himself a way did find ; and each 
 
 Suppos'd that he alone of all was right. 
 
 'Bout things they sometimes strive ; but most 'bout words, 
 
 Attempting each to give the meaning best. 
 
 The strife was hard and long and sharp ; but vain ; 
 
 For all had lost the way, and all were wrong. 
 
 And start where they would and wander where they may, 
 
 They'd soon to place just left themselves betake. 
 
 So pilgrims, lost mid deserts wild and thick, 
 
 Forever circling round and round again, 
 
 Back to the track they left fore'er return, 
 
 Nor find the wished-for path that leads them home. 
 
 New doctrines now prevail'd, and grossly strange, 
 To Reason opposite and common sense. 
 
 To turn the leaves of Providence Divine, 
 
 Examine close and read its symbols dark, 
 
 Was much the aim and end of wise and good. 
 
 Nor could they well agree. The lines to them 
 
 Appeared most darkly writ and all confus'd. 
 
 Some saw, or thought they saw, still ling'ring there, 
 
 Some traces dim of Wibdom uncreate — 
 
 Some long-strayed sparks from distant mind of God. 
 
 Others but dark confusion saw ; virtue 
 
PROVIDENCE. 181 
 
 And vice, and good, and ill in masses lay, 
 
 Commingled all in kind, in punishment. 
 
 And, thus, according to their diff 'rent views, 
 
 They diff 'rent doctrines held and tried to prove. 
 
 And 's if the palm were his, who farthest got 
 
 From middle ground, and wandered wildest off, 
 
 They fly on comet-eccentricity 
 
 Th' illimitable fields of airy pride ; 
 
 And place themselves where empty nothing dwells, 
 
 Opposition to make more opposite, 
 
 And creeds at war, to make more deathly mad, 
 
 Two leading truths 'bout Providence Supreme 
 More popular grown embrace the rest 5 
 As smaller streams into the larger run. 
 The one by feasting Epicurus taught, 
 The other chiefly urged from Zeno's porch : 
 Diverse, indeed, and thus fore'er at war. 
 
 To this, all things arose by fix'd decree, 
 Excluding means, and second cause, and prayer. 
 Necessity, with iron heart and hands, 
 The reins of universal Empire held. 
 The lot of man his life and actions all, 
 Lay far above his power to act or choose. 
 16 
 
182 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Noting with closest eye the union sure, 
 Betwixt effect and cause, they wrongly thought, 
 None could be free yet subject to a God : 
 That Power Supreme must either useless sleep, 
 Or, wielded, crush the will of gods and men. 
 And, thus, looking far back as thought could go, 
 They one eternal chain of fate beheld ; 
 Or, many co-eternal ones they saw, 
 With which were linked the rest in closest weld. 
 By law like this, Virtue and Vice were one : 
 To punish this were wrong ; rewarding that 
 Were base — since actions all by fate were fix'd, 
 And, God the arm that mov'd, fast held and urg'd. 
 The man who holds his infant's powerless hand 
 And with it stabs its mother's heart with steel, 
 In view of all, is guilty of the deed ; 
 And urges vainly on his babe the crime, 
 Which loudly calls at his own soul for blood. 
 And he, who urges on by bloody thong, 
 His stubborn slave into obedience, 
 Most sure, can give him neither pay nor praise. 
 
 The other, like the fool, exclaim'd : ' No God : ' 
 Or, if there be, he's blind, and dumb, and deaf; 
 A helpless thing that long-ago forgot 
 
PROVIDENCE. 183 
 
 The Universe he built, and slumb'ring at ease 
 In palace high, permits the world and men 
 Shift for themselves at idle random tost. 
 
 This like the last commingled right and wrong : 
 
 From Virtue tore all substance far away, 
 
 And left an empty shade hard to be seen. 
 
 No God t' offend ! No Law to break ! All crime, 
 
 And shame, and ill-desert are idle names ! 
 
 And he who fired his neighbor's house by night — 
 
 And he who fed the hungry soul with bread — 
 
 And he who cursed his Maker to his face — 
 
 And he who humbly fell in earnest prayer — 
 
 On equal footing stood — alike were praised ! 
 
 By creed like this, all confidence were vain ; 
 (For who could trust where nothing is to trust ? ) 
 All foresight, delusion, empty, wild ; 
 All knowledge, unsubstantial films of thought ; 
 Hope, a meteor, sparkling but to blind : 
 Joy, the melting foam on ocean's face ; 
 The world a fairy-field of blossoms dying ; 
 And man a shaking leaf in fortune's hand : 
 While dark uncertainties, and blinded chance ; 
 Contingencies, and probabilities, 
 
184 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Of dreadful shape, but still more ghastly drest, 
 In garments wrought by fear and misery, 
 Cover'd the landscape o'er of all his life ; 
 And roll'd on the scene of brightest view 
 The blackest shades of disappointed joy. 
 
 All rule, and government, and law were lost. 
 And the Universe appear'd like ships at sea, 
 With sails all up, but void of helm or guide — 
 While storm to storm in dark encounter meet. 
 The waves now lash the Heavens above, and now, 
 Most scourgingly the rocks of Tartar beat. 
 Meantime, the ships are toss'd before the storm 
 In idle sport, like atoms in the wind, 
 That sweeps a sterile coast in time of drought : 
 Or 's if the chains, which to their centres bind, 
 The diff 'rent worlds that rapid whirl in space, 
 Were sever'd all ; and, all let loose at once, 
 To hurl through void immense in random wild : 
 Confusion dread prevails ; as world 'gainst world, 
 And sun 'gainst sun, and star 'gainst star are dash'd, 
 And breaking, spread their fragments far o'er space ; 
 While Chaos and Night their former empire gain. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 185 
 
 Thus o'er the trackless wilds of doubt men roved : 
 Pursuing each the ball of sparkling flame 
 Which play'd in idle sport before his mind : 
 Now swelling into blaze of biggest size, 
 And now but flick'ring on the point to die, 
 But, all the while him leading far astray. 
 
 16 
 
BOOS IX. 
 
 THE DIVINE SOVEREIGNTY. 
 
 But not by God the Universe thus seen ; 
 
 He light in darkness viewed, and order sweet. 
 
 Mid wildest wrappings of disorder saw : 
 
 Of his own plan the lineaments beheld ; 
 
 Saw his own will o'er all most sovereign sway'd ; 
 
 And all that was but parts of his own scheme. 
 
 Nor happen otherwise it could — for He 
 
 By Himself the whole had made and govern'd still. 
 
 Long, long e'er time was born, or man he liv'd ; 
 Liv'd of Himself, liv'd all alone, uncaus'd : 
 T' Himself the first and last and best of all : 
 Nor needed angel, man, or sun, or moon, 
 Or star or world, to make him truly blest. 
 
188 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Himself an ocean wide of purest bliss ; 
 
 Himself an Universe of brightest light ; 
 
 Himself the fairest of ten thousand fair ; 
 
 Himself alone the one eternal God. 
 
 And long again beyond the death of Time 
 
 And fun'ral knell of Nature's latest works, 
 
 He still shall live the first, and midst, and last, 
 
 God over all, forever blest and prais'd. 
 
 All time, He measures with His shortest span ; 
 
 The mountains tall upon His finger hangs ; 
 
 The Universe into His palm collects ; 
 
 And veils all beauty with His lovely face. 
 
 Nor dwells there a spot in boundless space 
 
 Where life, or power of God is absent found. 
 
 On farthest limb of distant light He lives, 
 
 Lives mid the deepest shades of lowest night ; 
 
 Lives mid the bursting praise of Heaven's joy ; 
 
 And lives mid the mutt'ring groans of Hell's despair : 
 
 Lives in the Sun, and on the Comet lives ; 
 
 Lives in the air, and on the ocean lives : 
 
 Nor can aught obstruct, prevent or bend, 
 
 The presence of His all pervading mind. 
 
 O'er Ocean's face He drives the storm along, 
 
 And at his bottom deep He counts his pearls ; 
 
 Draws o'er the Earth her vernal landscapes fair, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 189 
 
 And at her centre rubs her diamonds bright ; 
 
 Lifts far on high the mountain's nodding top, 
 
 And on the solid earth girds fast its base ; 
 
 Notes well the features of the human form, 
 
 And lays his finger on the inner thought ; 
 
 Piercing, pervading, penetrating all — 
 
 The highest height, the deepest, lowest depth, 
 
 The widest line of all that moves or lives. 
 
 Nor like matter the more difFus'd the less, 
 
 Or, human thoughts, which constant transits make 
 
 Where'er He was, was Deity complete. 
 
 Each sound that rose He heard, each sight He saw ; 
 
 Nor saw alone when into being come ; 
 
 But long before He saw their secret cause ; 
 
 And, long ere that again He saw them both. 
 
 Knowledge all knowing, Power all powerful, 
 
 Holiness all holy, Justice all just, 
 
 And Truth all true, concent'ring ev'ry where 
 
 Seem'd all from ev'ry spot to rise as if 
 
 Existing there arising thence alone. 
 
 Objects, events and actions all, like moats, 
 
 Seem'd floating in Himself, all seen, all known. 
 
 A God like this must needs all Nature rule, 
 
 And helm of all events fast-holding guide : 
 
 And so He did ; but men beheld Him not. 
 
190 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 From highest seat of Majesty Divine, 
 
 Where hurdled clouds with fiery light'nings robed, 
 
 Around His feet were for a cov'ring cast ; 
 
 And o'er his head beamed brightest light of day ; 
 
 And at His side ten thousand thousand stood, 
 
 In longest robes of white, intent and prompt ; 
 
 With Universe upon His will all hung ; 
 
 The Everlasting God looked on the earth ; 
 
 On man did look, and saw his wicked ways ; 
 
 And heard his jargon noise and fussy words 
 
 Which 'gainst high Heaven in pride he madly spake. 
 
 He saw his spirit swell with nothing gorged ; 
 
 He saw him shake his limbs, his locks all shake, 
 
 To free his neck from Sovereignty Divine. 
 
 He heard as he said, that God was fast asleep ; 
 
 Or, wish at heart there ne'er had been a God : 
 
 The Idol saw, that in His stead was raised. 
 
 And saw his blasphemies like darkest fumes 
 
 Filthy and black the pure bright sky pollute. 
 
 And in the night, He saw his villainies ; 
 
 And heard the thought that said, 'No eye doth see.' 
 
 And God did call him vile, most fit for wo ; 
 
 And o'er his follies strange and at his rage, 
 
 Did laugh in solemn mock'ry of his pride. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Yet, God was good and from his bounteous store, 
 
 Did meantime pour o'er earth his richest gifts. 
 
 With columns high and strong He firmly propt 
 
 The canopy of stars, and o'er it threw 
 
 In sight of men the costliest drapery. 
 
 With his own hand led dancing round the year 
 
 Rejoicing in her fruitful seasons bright. 
 
 Distill'd o'er the land the richest dew and rain, 
 
 And making the sterile ground most fat, 
 
 Did wave in breeze his rip'ning harvests full, 
 
 And round his doors content and plenty throw. 
 
 In mountain-tops He limpid fountains made, 
 
 And poured their healing streams on all around : 
 
 In richest mines did heap his silver up, 
 
 Collect his gold and bid him dig and find ; 
 
 Corals and pearls and gems of greatest worth 
 
 Did make, and pour upon his thoughtless head. 
 
 The ocean from afar his wealth did bring ; 
 
 The mountains smiling high shook down their gifts ; 
 
 And ev'ry sea and ev'ry stream and land, 
 
 Or far or near, the summons quickly heard, 
 
 And sent to man unask'd their richest stores. 
 
 Upon his ear the birds their music poured, 
 
 And thrilled his heart by sweetest rapture seiz'd. 
 
 And for his eye fair Spring bedecked herself, 
 
 191 
 
192 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And all her daughters drest in brightest robes, 
 Spreading them forth before his statue gaze. 
 And from the richest beds of shrubbery ; 
 And from the widest fields of waving flowers, 
 Came constant up for him the sweetest smells. 
 The laurels high, low stooping down did place 
 Upon his honor'd brow the wreath of fame : 
 And o'er his sufferings keen the willows dropt 
 Their heart-wrung tears of purest condolence. 
 The marble leaping from his hidden bed, 
 Stood quickly up and published loud his deeds. 
 And all the world beneath the hand of God 
 Stood anxious round, and on him waited close 
 In form abased of prompt obedience. 
 
 But, blest, men's hearts grew fat and obstinate ; 
 Their pride was puff 'd, their neck made hard and stiff, 
 While with stouter stride and haughtier look 
 They God denounc'd and other lords did serve. 
 
 Twas then that God was roused in awful wrath, 
 And drest in flowing robes of pitch-black clouds 
 For judgment hard and war himself prepared. 
 The heavens quiver'd at his fearful look ; 
 The Sun and Moon and Stars all lowly bowed ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 193 
 
 The mountains reeled, the ocean groaned, and Earth 
 On her foundations deep did heave and shake. 
 Lightning and storm and hail and smoke before 
 Him went ; and pestilence and war and want 
 And Death in ghastly shapes drove rapid on. 
 
 In different ways did God the world afflict, 
 
 And make men read from darkest cloud His name. 
 
 In early time He summon'd Ocean up, 
 And bade him purge the Throne from slander's stain, 
 And earth wash clean from all her guilty deeds. 
 Anon the deep obeys ; and wave on wave 
 Hard pressing fast invade the s »lid land : 
 (As oft in war when dismal charge is made.) 
 And like a rav'ning foe but just let loose, 
 Whose time was short, he soon the work perform'd : 
 And calling to his aid the upper floods, 
 Ravaged the earth ; her cities swept away ; 
 Her beauty drifted off and grandeur spoil'd ; 
 First made the Nations pale and rapid climb 
 The loftiest peaks on mountains-high grown ridge: 
 And, then, in iille sport fast seizing hold, 
 Plung'd them all trembling down in watery deeps; 
 And then his trophy rais'd ; at bid of God, 
 17 
 
194 
 
 providence. 
 
 Back lo his channel ran, and lowly sat 
 
 In fear of Him who fills the Throne Supreme. 
 
 At other time, He fire from heaven call'd down, 
 And bade it lick the blook of guilty towns. 
 The order heard, ihe heavens prepar'd to act: 
 Cloud after cloud collects in dusky heaps ; 
 And 's if themselves in consultation deep, 
 Their color change by dreadful turns and fast ; 
 Now awful black, now blood ly red they seem'd, 
 And then a ghastly paleness wore, like men 
 At heart by many adverse passions rent. 
 So look'd the clouds, that told themselves to be 
 But outter wrappings of the hottest wrath 
 But now the hour is come — the righteous gone - 
 And down in fiery streams of liquid flame, 
 Themselves they pour, consuming all below. 
 The birds that fly in air, and beasts that feed, 
 And men that walked the street or sat at heme, 
 Were all embraced, and felt the vivid streams, 
 Like forked lightnings, pierce their inner bones, 
 And on their fattest marrow greedy feed. 
 Houses and fields and hills and vales were burn't, 
 And sinking left behind a putrid lake; 
 While faithful Abram lifts his eye and sees 
 Its folding smoke in mid-sk} far expire. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 195 
 
 Nor these alone. He Famines often calfd, k 
 And placed their fleshless forms in city gate ; 
 Or at the public place of concourse great; 
 Or at the door of private house, that look'd 
 From meagre face and low sunk eves within, 
 Affrighting all that towards it turn'd or gaz'd. 
 
 Disease and Plague flew at his will in haste ; 
 And waving high their sickly banner pale, 
 And must'ring fast around most gristly forms, 
 Did make the nations reel and faint and fall. 
 'Twas then from many a couch of bitterest grief 
 Arose most hideous groans and dread laments, 
 While cries and shrieks and screams did loudly ring, 
 As oft the pulse stood still — the' eye was sealed, 
 And Death his victim dragg'd reluctant off. 
 
 DO 
 
 He, too, his voice sent forth in Earthquake's groan, 
 And made the world from far to near, all shake. 
 At once, the Ocean swells and boils and sighs ; 
 And then, the solid Land, like pendulum, 
 Most rapid runs from side to side by turns. 
 The woodlands shake — the mountain's nod, and all 
 The stoutest sons of forest bend themselves. 
 The birds affrighted, flutt'ring fly away, 
 
196 providp:nce. 
 
 As if t' escape the wreck of sinking earth. 
 The cattle 'long the plains look high and wild, 
 And running fast, the air all fill with moans. 
 Dread palenoss sits on every face of man, 
 And every heart beats loud like feet of horse. 
 Another throe as if in birth of child, 
 All nature heaves, and thrones are prostrate laid, 
 And human greatness levelled with the ground. 
 The house that long its valued tenants kept 
 From heat of day and from the northern blast, 
 Now crush'd itself, its peaceful inmates crush. 
 And now the mother claspirg her babe lies dead ; 
 And now the son lies stain'd in father's gore, 
 While brother into brother's aching ear 
 Pours dying moans that might have made 
 The heart of hardest marble weep in blood. 
 Yonder an arm, aud here a leg is broke ; 
 The skull in that, and every bone in this 
 Lies mashed by mighty weight of falling beams. 
 And then, 's if mad with self and man, the earth 
 Her own grey mould and all down swnllows fast ; 
 While all the air is fill'd with cries and screams, 
 And clouds aud dust and atoms flying wild. 
 
 But chiefly rode He forth in Martial form, 
 To wash out human crime with human blood. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 13T 
 
 The slumb'ring wrath of nations rous'd awakes — 
 
 The heart-blood maddens as it nimbly runs, 
 
 And ev'ry eye intent streams fury forth. 
 
 Prep'rations great are briskly made by all. 
 
 Upon the glist'ning sword, the barbed spear, 
 
 The bloody dart and spike, the hammer strikes. 
 
 In the field the plough stands still ; and steers 
 
 That used now hear no more the ploughman's whoop. 
 
 The merchant's shop is closed. ; and from his board 
 
 The stay and prop of wife and child is gone ; 
 
 While war-formed men in rapid troops collect, 
 
 In armor burnish'd drest, that cast in face 
 
 Of distant sun his own fair image bright. 
 
 In passing breeze the war-black feather waves, 
 
 While side by side they closely stand, and firm 
 
 Like mountain-ridge, in thickest phalanx joined. 
 
 The music strikes — they march with prompted step — * 
 
 The foe appears — (brothers in war-clothes drest!)— 
 
 The shout is heard — and on they rapid charge 
 
 To field where blood shall make the winding sheet 
 
 Of many a fair formed youth and sturdy man. 
 
 Clamor, clamor meets, and eye m^ets eye — 
 
 On warmen warmen rush, and horse on horse — 
 
 Armor armor rings, and blood with blood is pour'd, 
 
 And fallen on fallen lie in thickest heaps. 
 
 17 * > 
 
198 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 But now one yields, and, rapid quits the field 
 While pressing on behind the conquerors run 
 To quench their thirsty soul in latest drop 
 Of brother's blood — (To them a nectar drop !) 
 
 Of all that ever yet has drunk man's blood, 
 
 The battle. sword deep-stained has drunk, the most. 
 
 At war with God above in common cause 
 
 As if too high to reach — men turn their rage 
 
 Upon themselves and eat each other up ! 
 
 Thus did the Eternal punish Earth and man ; 
 And reaching forth his iron rod afar 
 Did often break his peace and -make him feel 
 The Power he tried so long and hard to hate. 
 To passions vile he sometimes gave them up — 
 At their own blinded will permit them run, 
 And in the light of their own kindling walk. 
 But still he held the reins and rul'd the world. 
 To human rage in love He fixed a bound ; 
 And bid it thus far run and there be stayed. 
 The storm that raged He held in firmest grasp, 
 And to it gave its power, and course, and end — 
 Each scourge He fixed between his fingers fast — 
 
PROVIDENCE. 199 
 
 Each blow in mercy laid on sinners' souls — 
 And each was closely weighed and counted well. 
 
 But still men felt, nor heard, nor saw, their God: 
 
 Saw not his love — h's judgments heeded not: 
 
 But proud anil vile they shut their eyes to light — 
 
 Their ears to every call did firmly close. 
 
 When mercy reign'd, they laugh'd and danc'd and sinn'd : 
 
 And when dread judgments broke their cobweb-peace, 
 
 And rollVl like angry thunders o'er their heads, 
 
 They fear'd and quaked and hid themselves awhile 
 
 And begg'd to hear the dismal sound no more : 
 
 But when releas'd forgot and wander'd on. 
 
 But best we see God's sovereignty displayed 
 In men that knew him nol. or knowing spurn'd — 
 In wicked kings who madly fiil'd their thrones — 
 Ambitious raurd'rers slaughtering all around, 
 Priesis profane, the people far misleading : 
 And infi iels whose hearts were made of gall. 
 These all did madly fight 'gainst Heaven's King^ 
 And yet his sovereign will precise perform. 
 With hook in mouth of each Go:l held them all, 
 And kept them to his throne fast bound : but, yet, 
 Relax'd his arm sometimes and let them run 
 
200 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 A wicked course of sin, that made the hair 
 
 On pious heads stand up, and flesh all crawl, 
 
 As they did bl.ickest villianies perform 
 
 And curse the throne, and curse the Holy Lamb : 
 
 And then uplifting high in sight of all 
 
 Did cast them down in deepest depths of wo 
 
 And bid the world all gazing i stand in awe.' 
 
 Some few examples fit from many drawn 
 
 May serve at once to make the truth more clear. 
 
 In early times there liv'd by Nile a king 
 Of darkest soul and stoutest heart of sin. 
 From mothers' arms he infant-babes did tear 
 And tiger-like their new formed bones did break, 
 Or threw them weeping into passing flood : 
 And then his soul uprais'd most high did ask, 
 (i And who is God that I should him obey ; if 
 By mighty God he ten times fell o'ercome : 
 And yet did ten times rise and fight again. 
 He laughed and cried, and fell and rose, and said 
 And lied and fought his God with demon-heart. 
 Nor would he cease till God did lead him down 
 And in the mire on Red -sea's base did sink 
 Himself, his chariots, and his fame; and thus 
 His puerile madness tell to all the world. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 201 
 
 Another instance take from Macedon : 
 A beardless youth of soul as big as earth. 
 He, like the Sun at rising hour, did cast 
 O'er Grecia's brightest lights the darkest shade ; 
 And then like comet-blaze he dash'd abroad 
 And hurl'd from zenith place the brilliant sun 
 That pour'd his rays on ancient Cyrus' throne. 
 Nations and tribes, and kings and priests he mov'd 
 About at his own will, like puppets small : 
 And thrones and crowns and diadems did toss, 
 Like boys that play at ball in idle sport. 
 Bout God or gorls or fanes he never thought ; 
 And seldom thought 'bout books or ought beside — 
 A swelling man that lov'd a show to cut, 
 And fame did court with hotter love than life. 
 And yet, this heedless youth unknown, did act 
 The secret purpose of the Lord of Hosts ; 
 His long-spoke prophecies precise fulfil : 
 Then dying like a fool proclaim'd aloud, 
 (What God would have forever heard and known.) 
 That earth is vain and he that courts her mad. 
 
 Among Italia's hills there also liv'd 
 
 A man (near him who truth from sky obtain'd) 
 
 Of talents great and wealth and power and fame, 
 
202 PROVIDENCE* 
 
 Who fought most hard 'gainst Christ and holy cause. 
 Himself apostate turn'd others he strove, 
 As oft, to make as bad as he. And thus 
 He holy fathers crush'd with weighty tax, 
 The courts of truth fast clos'd, ar.d open'd wide 
 The Gentile fanes that long had silence kept. 
 In wit he dealt and shrewdest sophistries 
 And lewdest slurs upon the Truth did cast. 
 Nor these alone. By sovereign act, most proud, 
 He tried firm Heaven's decree to abrogate 
 And stronger than the strongest arm to be. 
 But vain. The Spirit works in spite his wrath 
 And round his palace christian converts makes. 
 The hope of church still far above his reach 
 Shone calm and bright on souls that calTd it theirs. 
 Dread balls of flame from Holy City drove 
 His workmen off, and shut the madman's mouth. 
 While on the Persian field, was hurl'd by hand 
 Unseen a lance, which drank his spirit's blood, 
 And made him tell to all, that Christ was God. 
 
 Another now of general sort observe, 
 And from him much of man in little learn — 
 His name is Infidel. He was a man 
 Who long in whirlpool deep and wide of sin 
 
peovidejnce. 208 
 
 His common sense had plung'd nor found again. 
 
 His heart was hate essential 'gainst his God, 
 
 And from his eye the hottest fury flash'd. 
 
 His aim, his noblest aim through life was this, — 
 
 To do the Eternal God a little harm ! 
 
 And this to him was end so pure and great 
 
 That for it he could aught neglect or do. 
 
 His creed was always wide — and morals too ; 
 
 From none to many gods was all the same — 
 
 From no religious form to grosest one — 
 
 The night to him was day, and day was night — 
 
 Order disorder met, and hot met cold — 
 
 Sweet with bitter joined, and rough with smooth : 
 
 And truth with falsehood black, and right with wrong 
 
 Commingled lay. As to his outward walk, 
 
 He was a hypocrite in sin : and oft, 
 
 With bleeding heart and tott'ring head, he tried 
 
 To show how much he could his God deride 
 
 And at his maker laugh ! How near upon 
 
 The burnish'd points of God Almighty's spears, 
 
 He could unharm'd approach ! How deep in flame 
 
 Of wrath Divine he could his arm thrust out! 
 
 How rrgli upon the brink of Hell unhurt, 
 
 He could presumptuous walk and icily sport! 
 
 So coward on the mighty field of war, 
 
204 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Ere yet the foe appears or earliest drop 
 
 Of blood is shed ; the ground doth stamp 
 
 And hands doth clap and huzzas loud throws out, 
 
 That all might learn the bravery of his soul — 
 
 But who, the instant death appears turns pale, 
 
 And from the ranks in dread contusion flies — 
 
 And so with him. Tho' bold in public walk 
 
 And in the market place most clamerous, 
 
 Where grinning youths of untried sense admir'd, 
 
 And vulgar hearts profane base fLitt'ries paid: 
 
 And tho' in philosophic scribblings pert, 
 
 As oft he brandish'd lancas 'gainst divines, 
 
 And in his sleeve most loudly laugh'd, when e'er 
 
 The learned Doctor sat with serious face, 
 
 And labor'd answers gave to witty things 
 
 And blasphemous an\iy of tinsel thoughts 
 
 By broken lo«ic propt : tho' thus he Latfgh'4 
 
 And skirmish'd lordly o'er the battling field 
 
 Of argument : yet oft in lonely walk 
 
 He yells and screams of wildest tone did hear, 
 
 And in the night hobgoblin-sights perceiv'd ; 
 
 And round the troubled bed of death beheld 
 
 Ten thousand devils grin in cruel joy — 
 
 And on his future fate the blackest night 
 
 His gloomiest shades for him condense ; and Hell 
 
PROVIDENCE. 205 
 
 Herself her mouth wide open throw in haste, 
 While coldest chill of death his frame all shook, 
 And from his heart the keenest groans escap'd, 
 As on the past he rais'd his faded eye, 
 And at his life-time folly sigh'd, too late ! 
 
 Thus did the Sovereign God all nature rule, 
 And firmest laws to Mind and Matter give. 
 
 Nor durst a creature in the universe 
 
 His plan disturb, or meddle with his power. 
 
 Who fights with God with worse than lion fights — 
 
 Fights with the lightning's bolt — with earthquake fights, 
 
 With sickness fights, with plague and death and hell : 
 
 Fights 'gainst a God whose stamp is fate, whose will 
 
 Is sovereign law, whose word almighty power : 
 
 Fights 'gainst the arm that rolls all worlds along : 
 
 Fights 'gainst the mind that sees his inmost soul ; 
 
 And he who fights 'gainst these, does headlong leap 
 
 On pointed sword of keenest edge and long, 
 
 That naked stands before his naked breast. 
 
 18 
 
BOOS III. 
 
 THE CHURCH. 
 
 Tho' equal God of all, or small or great, 
 Yet God did diff 'rent grades in being make, 
 And different value set on diff 'rent things. 
 Matter inert and mind He active made : 
 With matter some He rounded mountain-tops ; 
 With other paved the bed of ocean deep : 
 Some, like the Sun and fires, he sparkling made ; 
 And others formed most dark, as clay and rock : 
 Some idle formed to lie on face of earth ; 
 And others rapid move her plains along. 
 O'er spirit, too, he swayed his sovereign will, 
 And made of diff 'rent size the life He gave. 
 With some he filled the seats around himself 
 And poured upon their souls the glory-blaze 
 
208 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 That issued ceaseless from his crystal throne, 
 He others made of being scarce and small — 
 A clod their world, an hour their longest life. 
 To some he Reason, to others Instinct gave ; 
 Some prepared with wings to fly in air, 
 And some with fins to move in brooks and seas : 
 To each his place and sphere and task assigned. 
 And to his state did wisely him adapt. 
 
 Of all He made howe'er, and from his throne 
 
 Did fling in thousand splendors off on void, 
 
 To dazzle in the light of his own face, 
 
 None shone so bright to him as deathless minds : 
 
 And these amongst again, were none so fair, 
 
 As those who low at holy altar bent, 
 
 From heart sincere and broke with guilt, 
 
 Did lift an eye, that sparkling with the tear 
 
 Of faith, did part the sky with either hand, 
 
 And looking far on high, did Him their Father call. 
 
 In range of eye through vast infinity, 
 
 The Deity no gems like these did see. 
 
 Compared with these the burning sun was dark, 
 
 And all the sparkling ones on breast of night 
 
 Their glory lost. These best upon himself 
 
 Did throw from far his own sweet image bright : 
 
PROVIDENCE. 209 
 
 Upon his ear did music pour, with which 
 The notes of chiming spheres were harsh arid dull : 
 And sent an odour up, that far excelled 
 The sweet perfume of India's spicy isles. 
 For these He made, for these He rul'd the world i 
 For these to see, He sunk all human worth 
 And grandeur down ; and tossing far away- 
 Like trash, regaled his eyes with these alone. 
 
 So, when for gems on mountain-side men dig, 
 The cheaper mould they careless toss away ; 
 But search the diamonds out with careful hand. 
 And so, with cargo, great of precious worth, 
 The skilful seaman fights the dismal storm ; 
 Its fury braves with arm all nerved and strong, 
 To spread on distant, sunny coast his goods. 
 So managed God the world, and at its helm 
 Firm sat, to land on shore above, his church. 
 
 
 
 Since this was end so great in view of God, 
 It well becomes in clearest terms to set 
 Its special features forth — its creed and size : 
 The more — since fill'd with vain fantastic hope, 
 Upon the stormy deep have many launched, 
 And foolish thought their God was at the helm, 
 18 * 
 
210 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 To waft in prosp'rous gale to shore above 
 
 A soul all lade with lust and filled with crime. 
 
 Nor error saw — till met by furious blast, 
 
 Amidst the storm themselves alone they found ; 
 
 And yielding all for lost, did soon become 
 
 To angry wind and wave an idle sport. 
 
 Their hope from mid-heaven falls — their light goes out I 
 
 Their bark on briny deep in atoms flies — 
 
 And they themselves in cruel caves are plunged. 
 
 What, then, the church ? Its hope, its doctrines what ? 
 And here, Great God direct and teach the truth, 
 Th' essential truth, nor more, nor less, that I 
 May nothing add and nothing take away — 
 May not from soul the sparkling gem of hope 
 Tear down by thine own hand above fast fixed ; 
 Nor 'fore the straying spread a blazing lie. 
 
 The first great truth of ev'ry creed needs be, 
 
 ' A God exists — a God to fear and serve.' 
 
 Nor lost from human minds, tho' sunk in sin, 
 
 And fill'd with ev'ry filthy passion vile, 
 
 Has ever been this deep stamped sense of God. 
 
 Mid burning sands in burning zone it lives, 
 
 And lives mid freezing banks of Northern snow — 
 
PROVIDENCE. 211 
 
 Mid Afric's glens, and on the Indian soil, 
 And mid the vast Pacific's sea-girt isles — 
 Mid wise, and rude, and fierce, it lingers still ; 
 And like an index broken points to Heaven, 
 
 Not all, howe'er, who this truth seem'd to hold 
 Believed aright. The most a phantom raised 
 In room of God ; and round the creature-god 
 A flimsy the'ry spun of cob-web work, 
 Which never could their souls support or save. 
 In first truth wrong, they therefore erred in all ; 
 And stead of opening wide a door to life, 
 A pit to death did dig and therein fall. 
 
 Revealed was God to man in many ways. 
 
 The heavens above in all their spangled frame 
 
 That met his eye whene'er he walk'd abroad, 
 
 Did loudly on his ear the great truth peal ; 
 
 And earth from all her works proclaim'd aloud. 
 
 Upon Great Providence, that, like a King 
 
 Of farthest name, did grandly travel on, 
 
 In mighty strides, that made all nature shake, 
 
 And from itself did all events pour out ; 
 
 'Twas stamped in brilliant forms that stretched across 
 
 From eastern to the western edge of heaven : 
 
212 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And in the soul of man, that lived and thought 
 And felt, 'twas on immortal parchment wrote, 
 With heart-blood ink and with the Almighty's pen. 
 
 And yet, so blind was man he saw* it not, 
 Or seeing widely misconceived and erred : 
 And stead of God unmade, immense, all-wise — 
 He raised a phantom up ; and drest in robes 
 Divine that reached from heaven to earth, did make 
 Him like a pigmy on a mountain look — 
 Or, like meanest man in all the realm, 
 To iv'ry throne and golden crown elect, 
 With purple drest and diamonds bright, as oft 
 'Tis cried by herald's voice to bow the knee — 
 Who but the viler looks as on the glare 
 Of royalty his peasant meanness throw r s 
 A sullen shade, which all amaz'd behold. 
 
 Nor could lost man unhelped the truth perceive. 
 Its scattered parts that dazzled in his gaze 
 (Which to collect he oft did vainly try)' 
 Seemed but the more his grasping soul to blind. 
 As well go bid the mountain rock its eyes 
 Wide open throw and gaze on morning sun, 
 That on it richly pours its radiance ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 213 
 
 As man exhort behold and see his God : 
 
 As well the shepherd tell, that on the plains 
 
 Of silvered night his bleating gangs doth watch, 
 
 To raise his eye and view the unknown star, 
 
 That lies a telescopic gaze beyond, 
 
 The farthest seen — for man is blind as rock, 
 
 And truth as high as that fair star unseen. 
 
 But was there then no help ? no means to learn 
 The character Divine, and truth to know ? 
 Hear it ye heavens, and earth intent all hear, 
 Let ev'ry eye be fix 'd, and heart most still : 
 The Lord, the Everlasting God came down, 
 And drest in robes that round him burnt in flame ; 
 With voice that back on thunder roll'd his tone, 
 Did clear and loud proclaim Himself — his will. 
 And lest from human minds through weakness part, 
 And part through hate and pride it should be lost ; 
 Or, superstitions, rising round like mists, 
 That o'er the earth a midnight darkness threw, 
 And Reason's eye put fast and long asleep ; 
 On stony tablets wrote it fast Himself, 
 And on it stamped with Heaven's Eternal Seal. 
 
 But still men turn'd away and would not look ; 
 And like a vacant fool that closed at noon 
 
214 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 His eyes, nor would a passing view admit ; 
 Because a single sun the heavens possess'd, 
 And to itself the glory claim'd to warm 
 And lighten all — they shut their eyes in pride ; 
 And often spent their days to make more lights, 
 And better, than the one from God cast down. 
 
 This Book, howe'er, the will of God contained, 
 And was the best of all his gifts to man. 
 To him, who strays mid deserts wild and thick — 
 Who feels the more the more he thinks of home ; 
 A home which oft he fears he ne'er shall see, 
 And often weeps and groans, as thought of wife 
 And babe does frequent to his mind occur ; 
 While round him death in sportive mood collects 
 His haggard spectres pale, and on his dark 
 Imagination throws a thousand fears ; 
 To him what gift so great as that of friend, 
 Who hunts him out and to his weeping house, 
 Offers to guide and bear him through unhurt ! 
 Such, and more the state of man undone ; 
 And such the proffer of the Book Divine. 
 
 This Book reveal'd to man for firmest faith, 
 Tho' hard for his weak mind to comprehend ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 215 
 
 A God Supreme, all Wise, in Persons three, 
 
 Existing thus from all Eternity ; 
 
 Godhead to each ascribed, and thus 
 
 For each required most fervent prayer and praise : 
 
 Declaring loud and long and clear ; that he 
 
 Who basely wrong'd but one, did wrong the Whole ; 
 
 Did Deity offend, and at his bar 
 
 For crime so base should awful reck'ning give. 
 
 To truth so great and strange reveal'd did men 
 Amendment make : and finding God in fault 
 Did to Himself declare, that He was wrong — 
 That human sense would never thus admit, 
 A Three in One, or One in Three to be : 
 That Two were either qualities of One, 
 Or less, must but His higher offspring be. 
 And thus explain'd they to themselves suppos'd, 
 That God was debtor made to human skill, 
 And his fair throne from ridicule was purg'd. 
 Thus fought the truth did men, and vainly strive, 
 With inch of mortal length to sound the depth 
 Of God Immense and Deity to scan. 
 
 Another truth of greatest worth to know. 
 
 The Bible taught. That human hearts were base, 
 
216 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Not one, but all most deeply stain'd with sin ; 
 That o'er the face of wide extended earth, 
 No spot was filthier found than human soul : 
 Of all the vile, most vile, of all the black 
 Most black, of all confusion most confus'd — 
 Of all deceit was most deceitful found : 
 Of sickest most in need of medicine ; 
 Of all the slain most deeply wrapp'd in gore ; 
 Of all on ruin's brink it nearest stood ; 
 Of all that leap'd in Hell was most dispos'd. 
 
 Nor hence alone was this great truth disclos'd : 
 'Twas writ in blood upon the war-flag high ; 
 And on the assassin's cruel dagger writ ; 
 And on the smoking ground of cities burnt ; 
 And in the torch applied when all were sleep ; 
 On forehead of the coward thief 'twas writ ; 
 And in his face who stained his neighbor's bed : 
 From heathen shrines 'twas often thunder'd loud ; 
 And soft in sighs did from their altars come : 
 The heavens to the earth did witness give, 
 And earth to heaven again repeat aloud ; 
 The ocean told that heard the sailor's oath ; 
 And woods, where oft the guilty villain lay ; 
 The Sun by day beheld and loud proclaimed, 
 
PROVIDENCE, 217 
 
 And star by night that stopp'd awhile her song 
 
 And on the filthy deed of sinner peep'd : 
 
 All these proclaim'd aloud that man was vile. 
 
 And yet, to make his blackest soul more black, 
 And to the highest crime a climax add — 
 He turn'd away in wrath nor would believe, 
 Tho' on the strongest oath of God 'twas spoke. 
 
 Another truth of weight immense was taught : 
 Around which central truth did hang the rest, 
 And moving each in its own orbit place 
 Did from it beauty gain, and heat and light ; 
 Like whirling planets from their middle sun. 
 This truth of truths was this : that God's own Son 
 In strongest love for fallen man undone, 
 Did lay his glory by and to the earth 
 Descent, did on himself take human flesh : 
 To hunger, want and shame was constant prey — 
 While living felt the keenest hate of men — 
 And then Mount Calvary ascending high, 
 Did in the breach of violated law 
 In room of man the weighty curse sustain — 
 And struggling all alone with wrath divine, 
 His soul outpoured in precious groans from sin ; 
 19 
 
218 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And thus did full atonement make to God, 
 And broken law did fast cement with blood : 
 And now, that he who quits himself, his works, 
 His sin, all quits, and in Him trusts, shall live — 
 Shall at the Judgment-bar acquitted stand, 
 And bending round the Chrystal Throne above, 
 Fore'er shall chant the love that placed him there. 
 
 This precious truth was but by few received. 
 The most their guilty deeds o'erlooking quite, 
 Did no need see for such atoning blood ; 
 And shaking from themselves its cleansing drops, 
 Did either proudly Gospel grace disdain, 
 Or, vainly try by blood of bulls and goats, 
 And heifers slain, their souls from guilt to free ; 
 Or throwing down a large amount, did strive 
 With gold the pearl of greatest price to buy. 
 
 Again, in fine, 'twas taught : That dying, men 
 Should soon at Bar of final doom appear, 
 And to the Saviour-judge, strict reckoning give 
 For all their deeds performed by day or night — 
 That pious souls who long had groaned for sin 
 And on their hearts did grievoi s burdens bear, 
 As oft they pray'd for holiness within, 
 
PROVIDENCE, 219 
 
 Should there their bondage loose nor feel again 
 
 One link of all their former captive state — 
 
 But drest in shining robes of righteousness, 
 
 They through the gates should singing pass, 
 
 And in the New Jerusalem should spend 
 
 A long eternity in holy joy. 
 
 That bound in chains of fearful size and dark, 
 
 The wicked there shall stand to hear their fate — 
 
 Shall be accursed by sentence of the Lamb — 
 
 And down to hell outcast, shall groaning hear 
 
 The eternal bolt which locks their prison fast, 
 
 And them secures to never-ending death — 
 
 That there with devils curs'd and all the plagues 
 
 That ever gnawed in human hearts for food, 
 
 They'll groan and sigh, and wesp and howl and wail, 
 
 Throughout a vast Eternity, which still 
 
 Eternity shall be Eternity. 
 
 Such the doctrines God to men revealed : 
 Which to obey was life and happiness, 
 To disobey, was death and endless pain. 
 
 About these truths — the core of gospel-plan — 
 The very heart of Revelation quite — 
 Th' essential base of ev'ry valid hope — 
 
220 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Did men (and sometimes men of pious heart ! ) 
 Most strangely speculate and round them throw 
 Full many a cobweb- work of feeble life, 
 Attempting hard the truth more plain to make — 
 The complex work of God to simplify — 
 And parts which he left dark to luminate. 
 But vain. For he who paints a Rose, or tries 
 The Lily delicate t' improve — but stains — 
 And he who strives the sun to make more bright, 
 But casts on his own face a darker shade. 
 
 And o'er these truths did many stumbling fall. 
 To all the tribes of proud and self-willed men, 
 They lay like pits to those who stroll at night — 
 Or, like an unexpected trunk to him, 
 Who on the edge of precipice has got. 
 Amidst them sank and o'er them thousands fell, 
 Nor ever rose to hope or life again. 
 
 The chief objection urged 'gainst gospel-grace, 
 By men of sinful heart and life, were these. 
 (For these to receive and sin did not agree.) 
 And these were constant mark to Satan's rage. 
 These lost ; and Zion would a market be — 
 Her pure clean seats by sinners base defil'd : 
 
PROVIDENCE. 221 
 
 Her holy peace by noise and clamor broke — 
 Her sons with sons of wickedness combin'd — 
 And Trod's own House a den of thieves profane. 
 
 To give these truths on earth a wider sway, 
 
 And deepty in the mind to fortify, 
 
 Did God the means adapted well appoint, 
 
 And linking wisely with his Holy Cause, 
 
 He made them gates and walks and outer courts. 
 
 Around the house where chief his honor dwelt. 
 
 Nor could blind man so well the Temple find, 
 
 But for such avenues to lead him there. 
 
 Since then of benefit so great, 'tis fit 
 To name, or, some at least to specify. 
 
 The first was Sabbath Day — holiest of time. 
 For many ends did God this day appoint ; 
 The first — to celebrate his glorious praise 
 For wise construction of the universe, 
 And living memory thereof transmit 
 To farthest sons of distant time unborn. 
 The man, who by the nerve of mighty arm — 
 By laboring long and hard with weighty care — * 
 Has founded by his sword an Empire vast, ** 
 19 * 
 
222 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And widely spread o'er all the rescued land, 
 
 The beauteous works of peace and happiness — 
 
 The massy stone erects on high and there 
 
 His own, his country's name he writes, and stamps 
 
 The date, when sheath'd his sword, the work was done* 
 
 But chief, this day now points to second birth 
 
 Of world and man — to Resurrection-morn — 
 
 When vanquished Hell, and Death are captive bound, 
 
 From rocky tomb the great Redeemer rose 
 
 And brought in triumph high the vict'ry forth. 
 
 Another end — to give to thoughtless men 
 
 A leisure time to fit their souls for Heaven — 
 
 In shadows substances to show — and thus 
 
 T' unlock their fast clenched arms, and cast away 
 
 The world, more lov'd by most than Book of God. 
 
 Loveliest of time ! Jubilee of days ! 
 In secret bower hid, the christian rais'd 
 His eye expecting long its dawn to hail : 
 And as upon the distant East it blush'd 
 He met with rolling tear of holy joy — 
 Felt through his soul dirTus'd a richer light, 
 And bending low at holy feet divine, 
 His heart pour'd forth in drops of gratitude ; 
 Then rais'd his eye, in faith he fervent ask'd, 
 For dawn of endless Sabbath on his soul. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 225 
 
 O'er all the land sweet stillness wide prevail'd ; 
 
 And nature joyous seem'd in silent gaze 
 
 Upon her God — while ear of saint devout 
 
 The footsteps soft of angels walking hears, 
 
 And sweetest notes that from the world of light 
 
 Escaping fell from lips of Seraphim. 
 
 High Heaven and Earth seem'd join'd in union sweet, 
 
 And God with either hand encircling each 
 
 Did to his hosom bring the Archangel 
 
 And the saint that wept in penitence — 
 
 Them brothers call and Him their Father kind. 
 
 Oh ye profane ! who drive with rattling noise, 
 Your fruits to distant mart — or dash along 
 The street in pleasure glee and thoughtless air : 
 Or, raise the savage laugh or jargon talk, 
 On holy day of God ! How rude you sport ! 
 How harsh your voice to ear of holiness ! 
 Beneath your prancing steed the earth recoils — 
 The trees of forest gazing blush unseen — 
 Unfelt their pitying tears the Heavens drop 
 Upon your heads — and angels shuddering, start — 
 As ye, presumptuous rush on holy time ! 
 To choirs of Sabbath worshippers engag'd, 
 Ye fitly seem like low-bred, clownish men, 
 
224 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 That into parlour neat obtrude themselves 
 On festal day ; and vilely drest and mean 
 Unseemly language use, and actions show, 
 That throw on cheek of decency a blush, 
 And mingling pity and contempt excite : 
 Or, him who breaking into inner grave, 
 The slumbering bones of parents dear disturbs, 
 And rudely brings them to their children's eyes. 
 
 « 
 Another walk to Zion's holy seat 
 Was word of God proclaimed by men of truth, 
 Commission'd of Christ through all the world to go, 
 And rapid to bear on glowing tongue, 
 The news and grace of great salvation made. 
 
 With hearts excited by a Saviour's love, 
 And hands with blessings full, the herald's fly ; 
 Of ev'ry age, and clime, and name they go — 
 And each his difT'rent gifts employs to set 
 Messiah forth and rescue men from sin. 
 Now, streaming eloquence to preachers' lips 
 Holds fast and still a large assembly long — 
 Now, stamm'ring faith proclaims in harsher style 
 The stubborn truths that in the Gospel lie ; 
 Now, dissult'ry talk beguiles and wins 
 
PROVIDENCE. 225 
 
 More roving minds by closer thoughts o'ershoi v 
 And now the strongest chain of argument, 
 In phalanx join'd, the sinners fortress breaks, 
 And leaves him bare to God Almighty's wrath — 
 Now, age from silver'd locks and quivering lips, 
 In broken tones and soft drops down the truth : 
 And now, the preacher-youth, with livelier tone 
 And brighter eye, points blushing to the cross. 
 
 Beneath the sound the world reviv'd again. 
 The soul that ling'ring lay transpierc'd by dart 
 From Justices' quiver hurl'd deliverance found — 
 Upon Despair sweet Hope its beams did shed : 
 The chains from captives fell in brokenness : 
 The blind their eyes wide open threw and saw — 
 The deaf ear heard : the lame leap'd up and ran : 
 And he that lay by Hell's domain asleep, 
 Upon whose heart the Devil just had laid 
 His hand, awaked, did from the monster spring 
 And triumph loudly in his Saviour's love. 
 
 The Holy Dove was also made where all 
 Were obvious taught by watery element, 
 The need essential of a holy heart. 
 Disputed oft this rite, yet always meant 
 
£26 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 The same — always emblem'd purity : 
 Always pointed to the blood of Calvary 
 And>dew descending of the Spirit's grace — 
 Taught always human guilt and human care, 
 Pollution, sanctity — and pointed far 
 On high to world where sin nor sovereign reigns, 
 Nor casts a straying spot on holy souls. 
 
 Another sweet appendage to the church 
 Was Feast of Love, by brethren often kept. 
 
 One I remember well, and here relate. 
 
 I sat amid the scene — the house was full : 
 
 No noise was there : but all was still, as when 
 
 Dark midnight wraps herself in her own shade. 
 
 Eternal truth seemed cloth'd in ev'ry face, 
 
 As terror lay upon the sinner's brow 
 
 And love dropt melting from the christian's eye. 
 
 They come around the board, but some are left ; 
 
 Each heart is joy, each eye is steeped in tears ; 
 
 Arm joins to arm in pure paternal love, 
 
 And each by each bend pensive o'er the feast, 
 
 As if half broke by love, half broke by grief. 
 
 Angels, with wing to wing in concert join'd, 
 
 Low hover'd o'er the scene, and tried to probr 
 
PROVIDENCE. 227 
 
 (But vainly) the myst'ry there embraced, 
 
 As mortal ate, immortal, man with God 
 
 Commenc'd, and fed his soul on things divine. 
 
 The Reverend Father rose — His locks of snow 
 
 Roll'd sagely down, and on his face sat age. 
 
 He stood, like an oak of many years 
 
 Mid junior growth, that looking saw around 
 
 None but itself so deeply mark'd by time ; 
 
 And which itself had warning just receiv'd, 
 
 As by it lay the trunk of its last mate. 
 
 He alone standing, spoke from lips of love, 
 
 And heart of richest tears, the words of God. 
 
 He sat ; another rose to fill his place. 
 
 With limbs all trembling, and a voice that shook, 
 
 He spoke from earnest heart. All heard, all felt, all wept, 
 
 And th' assembly look'd like morning-garden, 
 
 Bathed in the glistning tears of weeping night. 
 
 Nor this alone : but oft has here the saint 
 Provision for his soul obtained ; his fears 
 Dispers'd, his graces strengthen'd, and himself 
 Made grow in greater likeness to his God. 
 Oft the dependent here have hop'd : joy'd 
 The weeping, and the sick themselves felt well. 
 And oft the soul, with harp-strings broke, has here 
 
PROVIDENCE. 
 
 The notes of Angels borrow'd, and their raptures 
 Told amid the elders' seats in heaven. 
 
 Thus did the Lord his Zion constitute ; 
 
 Her frame-work all of doctrine make most strong, 
 
 And round her throw, in ornament, her rites. 
 
 To tell who Zion's children were, precise, 
 
 Is hard, since God alone the record keeps, 
 
 Nor thereon durst the tallest angel look. 
 
 All those, howe'er, who held at heart the truths 
 
 Above, and did by them their lives control, 
 
 Were sure the sons of God — not one beside. 
 
 These all were seen most clear, by eye of God, 
 
 As diff 'rent from the rest of human kind. 
 
 Nor did the distinction through combinations 
 
 Intricate, of ten thousand kindreds high, 
 
 Like mingling waves on face of the same sea : 
 
 But liv'd in every tie of life, unbroke 
 
 By twistings numberless around the heart. 
 
 And though by country join'd, and join'd by love ; 
 
 Though one by conjugal affection bound, 
 
 By same house shelter 'd, and from same board fed, 
 
 Yet God did see a diff 'rence wide between, 
 
 And this a child and that an alien calls. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 229 
 
 So in a common field the wheat and tares 
 Together grow, nor scarce distinct appear ; 
 And so in forest wide, the fruitful vine, 
 Arm around arm commingles with the wild, 
 But yet in nature quite distinct from that : 
 And so the purer gold, like baser ore, 
 Does frequent look, which yet the chemist skill 'd 
 Can easy tell and wide distinction show. 
 
 So lay confus'd, the sons of Life and Death, 
 
 In outer man so near alike that men, 
 
 And sometimes angels too, could not discern ; 
 
 But still at heart antagonists. And hence 
 
 Did sons of Sin great efforts often use, 
 
 To wear the clothes for God's own children made ; 
 
 And thus in Zion's wardrobes drest, to sit 
 
 And walk with saintly air among the just. 
 
 The real Hypocrite could ne'er succeed. 
 The patch-work dress that round his soul he threw, 
 To cover from the world his sinful heart, 
 So rotten was, that often as he'd seize 
 'Tould tear, and as he'd pull 'twould break, and thus 
 A wider breach would give, through which to see 
 His ugly soul : and oft the whole would drop, 
 20 
 
330 PKOVIDENCE. 
 
 And leave him bare as to his God he stood. 
 So does the villain wrapt in rags appear, 
 When brought before the good in decent dress. 
 Asham'd of soul and body both, he strives 
 Them both most hard to hide from human gaze, 
 Who yet the baser makes himself and worse, 
 The more he strives himself to cover close. 
 
 The Formalist did better imitate : 
 
 His cloth was to the very pattern cut ; 
 
 Nor could the closest eye discern between. 
 
 His robe had line for line, and bend for bend, 
 
 With that around the pious Christian cast. 
 
 Before the holy altar standing, he took 
 
 With solemn oath the awful vows of God ; 
 
 On sacramental board his hand was laid ; 
 
 He prayed, and wept, and sang and talk'd of faith 
 
 With zeal ; did many good works show to all, 
 
 And rais'd his upward look to heaven as his. 
 
 And yet, (my soul all shudders as she tells) 
 
 To hell did fall, and rais'd his eye in woe ! 
 
 'Twas not in outer garb the difF'rence lay, 
 
 'Twixt him and real saint of God's elect, 
 
 But in the spirit-work that dwelt within. 
 
 So, in a pop'lous town of largest size, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 231 
 
 Two buildings stand, precise alike and near, 
 
 But which within are all in contrast found. 
 
 The one unfurnished yet, is rough and bare, 
 
 The other shines with every trace of art ; 
 
 The one most hostile minds and fierce contains, 
 
 The other neatest folks of friendliest soul. 
 
 And so the foe, that secret in his heart 
 
 Bears murder, as on his countenance smiles 
 
 Deceive his inward frame, is oft mistaken 
 
 For a friend ; but who, when opportunity 
 
 Affords, his victim seizes and his blade 
 
 Of steel makes drunk, untear'd, with brother's blood. 
 
BOOS I V. 
 
 DIVINE PROVIDENCE TOWARDS THE CHURCH FROM THE 
 CREATION TO THE ADVENT OF CHRIST. 
 
 Spirit of God ! Immortal Dove ! 
 Who on the plains of blest Eternity, 
 Dost on the souls of bards immortal breathe 
 The song that bends on Zion's mountain high 
 The lofty cedars low, and at the foot 
 Of Holy Throne the River stops of Life 
 To hear — breathe on my fainting soul again, 
 And bid me feel as in the room of prayer, 
 With Zion's children weeping round I felt, 
 As o'er me there thou roll'dst the wave of life. 
 At bid of Thee I left this bower of song, 
 And on the neighboring willow hung my harp, 
 Till to the wand'ring soul, in plainer style, 
 20 * 
 
234 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 I preach'd the truths by aid of Thee here sung. 
 Aid Thou again, and holding bid me sing 
 The conflicts of the Church I live to serve. 
 
 O'er wave of time long wreck'd, my harp, go back, 
 And sitting on the green-cloth'd bank of stream 
 That ripples by the side of Tree of Life, 
 The fragrance breathe of Eden's earry air, 
 And mid its landscapes blooming round so bright, 
 A minute-song of weeping joy relate. 
 
 But who describe a scene so fair, so short ? 
 That rising suddenly to view wide spreads 
 A thousand beauteous forms, in richest dress. 
 Before the enraptur'd gaze ; and then, like dream 
 Retiring fast, leaves in the mind the sense 
 Of sweetest joy, that longs again to see. 
 Or which, like the tints of Nature by flash 
 From thunder-cloud perceiv'd but once upon 
 The human vision rush, nor time afford 
 Their colors on the canvass to depict. 
 
 Upon the lovely earth the Eternal look'd, 
 And o'er it cast his richest radiance, 
 While back upon Himself with liveliest joy 
 
PROVIDENCE. 235 
 
 The earth return'd from all her shining sons 
 The image fair of their Original ; 
 As waves that slumber still at sight the stars. 
 Holy Seraphim, swift- wing'd descending 
 'Neath human bower sat and fed themselves 
 From earthly board with nectar sweet. While many 
 With soul that bouyant rose above, commun'd 
 With tallest minds that play on golden harps. 
 The heavens on the new form'd earth did smile 
 And earth again return the common joy. 
 The Mountains to the vales low-bent rejoiced, 
 And vales up-leaping met the mountains 5 bliss — 
 And man with beast, and fish with fowl were glad, 
 Each sound was sweet, and every brook was life, 
 And ev'ry taste, save one, was richest health. 
 The Palm upon the Oak, and Cedar on 
 The lofty Fur did lean, with locking arms. 
 The Lion by the Kid lay down and slept — 
 And Wolf played sportive with the bleating Calf. 
 The larger beasts forbore the small to tread 
 And smaller ones their stings laid useless down. 
 The air imprison'd fast her ruinous storms, 
 Nor Earth infected Air with poisionous death. 
 Gently the ocean stroked the coasts of Land, 
 And Land with easy bar held Ocean in. 
 
236 PROVIDENCE, 
 
 Each breeze was fragrance, the earth was riches, 
 
 The heavens a diamond cov'ring — time was spring - 
 
 Duty turn'd on easy hinge — and all things 
 
 Kept 'neath reign of love and purity 
 
 A universal harmony of praise. 
 
 Such and more the state of new-created man. 
 
 Nor he unmeriting. His look was noble, 
 
 Countenance divine — going venerable : 
 
 His eyes were stars of knowledge — his forehead 
 
 The marbled-front of righteous tribunal — 
 
 His smile the sun half cover'd by a cloud : 
 
 His voice a Lyre — his words celestial lore. 
 
 Himself the image of his Creator. 
 
 Nor less, his Bride — Recumbent on his arm 
 
 She hung, innocence divine, reclining 
 
 Virtue. Complexion, fair as drifted snow, 
 
 Transparent to emit the red beneath, 
 
 That lively flow'd in thousand streams of love : 
 
 Her look was wing of seraph unfolding 
 
 To wipe the tear it might perchance observe : 
 
 Her hair the silken-velvet crown of beauty — 
 
 Her voice Heaven's sweet treble, and herself 
 
 Perfection all — the human ornament : 
 
 Each rational and each immortal made. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 237 
 
 Twin spirits of the Deity — double, 
 
 Yet join'd; distinct, and yet, but perfect man. 
 
 Happy pair ! Sweet union of holy hearts ! 
 Manhood in infancy ; simplicity 
 In age ! loving, belov'd ; blessing, so blest : 
 Was ever married life so sweet, so pure ! 
 Adam, thou wast the pride of man ; fair Eve 
 Of womankind — and each the model divine 
 Of all. Our ancestors — we reverence : 
 Our perfect pattern — we imitate. But 
 Ye were too good for Earth, as Earth for Hell. 
 Th' Apostate falling from his native skies 
 Envied as he past, and e'en then resolv'd 
 To ruin as an outer province weak, 
 Perhaps forgotton of its God. His heart 
 In high revenge selected for his prey 
 Your Eden and yourselves, as angry Lion 
 More than common starved a fold of Lambs. 
 And yet how unsuspecting still ye walk'd 
 Amid the bloom of Paradise ! How blest 
 Ye still conceiv'd yourselves to be upon 
 The point of wo ! So the good unconscious 
 Ever fall, if fall at all among th' bad. 
 Wickedness is weak and therefore mean — 
 
238 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Cunning is its strength, its wisdom strat'gem. 
 And so th' Archangel fallen knew, and thus 
 His lure determin'd to make strong by guile, 
 And intricately sure by sophistry. 
 
 Around the prim'tive state of new made man, 
 Almighty God had cast a rampart great 
 Of mighty power ; nor could a subtle foe 
 An entrance to his holy bliss obtain, 
 But by one gate for man alone reserv'd, 
 That through it he alone might passage find 
 And not be kept in iron-prison fast. 
 Taintless of crime and 'gainst his holy will 
 No power in universe could him afflict : 
 Invincible beside on ev'ry part, 
 To angel high or brute or fiend below. 
 Nor God Himself could still a God remain' 
 And blast his perfect soul with curse of Death. 
 
 The will of man most free to chose God made 
 To good inclined, seducible to ill ; 
 But still to act in each to self resigned. 
 Nor this alone, but o'er the soul he pour'd 
 A flood of purest light which e'er might guide 
 The choice of man supreme to Him alone. 
 
PKOVIDENCE. 230 
 
 And then him placing at the gate where ill 
 Could possibly alone to him arise, 
 In iron- virtue cloth'd and armor'd well 
 He bade him watch and to his trust be true. 
 
 That man might o'er himself the stricter guard, 
 And not in heart or life transgress the Law — 
 The moral Law, that o'er each creature form'd 
 With sapient nature blest, and good from ill 
 To know, did equally its sceptre wield — 
 Two trees did God especial set apart 
 As constant monitors of right and wrong — 
 The tree of Knowledge Moral and of Life. 
 'Twas not t' entrap their unsuspecting mind 
 And thus the curse upon their souls to bring, 
 That God did this distinction make of trees : 
 As oft the wicked heart that turns towards God 
 Its sland'rous eye has blaspemously said. 
 Nor yet a sport of common sense to make, 
 As Infidels have oft in pride affirm'd. 
 Wisdom and Love did this distinction make 
 And in it God was God and man was blest. 
 
 The tree of knowledge (not so nam'd from fall 
 Of man, or from peculiar nature strange,) 
 
240 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 From ev'ry leaf a curse 'gainst sin did speak. 
 
 Not 'gainst the sin alone of it to eat — 
 
 But loud proclaim'd, ' The soul that sins shall die.' 
 
 The Tree of life was all most richly cloth'd 
 
 With sweetest promise to obedience : 
 
 And every leaf did loud declare ' the Soul 
 
 That keeps the Law, that Soul in bliss shall live.' 
 
 These trees were God's revealed Will to man — 
 
 His lesser Bible in a diff 'rent state. 
 
 The one in substance held the threatnings now 
 
 'Gainst sin in God's most Holy Word reveal'd, 
 
 Th' other embrac'd in full each promise sweet. 
 
 The one like Sinai thunder'd on the ear : 
 
 The other smiled like Calvary in love — 
 
 The one like Ebal cursed aloud 'gainst sin : 
 
 Th' other like Gerizim did equal bless. 
 
 But 'gainst the Law of God most Wise and Good, 
 Against His Sovereign Power out-stretch'd o're all — 
 Against His Love and Truth and Mighty Grace : 
 In view of living pledge of Life and Death : 
 And smote by the eye that ranges Heaven, 
 And Earth and Hell and Night ; the Tempter comes - 
 With fangs that long'd on innocence to feed, 
 And heart, that thirsted hard for blood of souls ; 
 
PROVIDENCE, 241 
 
 And hate that could from throne Great God cast down, 
 
 He hidden laid for man that subtle snare 
 
 Which catching, dragg'd him down in chains to Hell. 
 
 Shutting his ear 'gainst voice of God most High 
 
 Which still through Eden's groves did wide resound, 
 
 His eyes fast closing 'gainst the vivid light 
 
 That flash'd so bright from Tree of Death and Life, 
 
 Man thrust his wicked arm midst hottest wrath 
 
 That blaz'd, and burn'd and frown'd on Tree of Death, 
 
 And bade him as he came stand off and fear ; 
 
 And plucking thence th' essential curse 
 
 (Weep on ye Heav'ns and Earth afflicted weep ;) 
 
 It to his lips did bring and eating, down 
 
 Did spread through all his bones and veins and soul 
 
 Disease and wo, and sin and death and Hell. 
 
 The Tree of Life at once its blessings shed 
 
 And wept itself away at scene of wo — 
 
 The Heavens cast o'er their shining face a veil : 
 
 And earth with sackcloth black her surface cloth'd : 
 
 And every beast and every bird and fish 
 
 And tree and plant, did bitter'st tears pour out — 
 
 And Nature groan'd that man and all was lost : 
 
 21 
 
242 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 While o'er the scene above from angels bright 
 Came moans and sighs and lamentations sad. 
 
 But where wast Thou Eternal God ? whose praise 
 
 In all prevailing Providence I sing 
 
 Directing each event by Sovereign will ? 
 
 Where slept thy power and where thy love confin'd, 
 
 As fiendish foe did thine own work invade 
 
 And from thy hand did seem a world to pluck ? 
 
 Why to his rescue didst thou not arise, 
 
 And down to Hell the fiend scourge back again, 
 
 And in his face his crime and folly pour ? 
 
 I know thine eye did see, thine ear did hear, 
 
 And in thy might thou then wast strong as e'er — 
 
 And in thy love unfathomably deep. 
 
 But why such silence keep when all at stake ? 
 
 At truth like this my Reason staggers drunk — 
 
 And both my eyes grow dim as on this depth 
 
 Of deepest mystery I standing gaze. 
 
 The deepest truth in word of God reveal'd 
 
 Save that which this revers'd and man redeem'd. 
 
 But, still I will not cannot fret in pride : 
 
 All that is plain I love, and all that's dark 
 
 Of Government Supreme I gladly trust. 
 
 Tho* cloth'd in clouds of darkest night conceal'd 
 
PROVIDENCE. 24$ 
 
 Tet God did rule the world in love when Fiend 
 In Eden came and man entic'd away ; 
 Did at the Helm of all things firmly sit 
 And wisely guide the course of all events : 
 And sinning man was base and God was just, 
 Who on him pour'd the curse of broken Law. 
 
 Oh ye, who from this scene a God exclude, 
 
 And ye who seeing criminate his Throne — 
 
 In trying each in diff 'rent way to sound 
 
 This deepest depth of God Almighty's mind ; 
 
 Ye but your folly make more clear and gross ! 
 
 Like boys that on the ocean sit in boats, * 
 
 And try with pin-hook line its depths to find ; 
 
 So ye in danger to your souls attempt 
 
 This darkest part of Deity to scan. 
 
 Go first and measure arms with God most high, 
 
 And from your tongue his tone of thunder roll, 
 
 And with your spark of sense his mind illume — 
 
 Go measure Space, go count Eternity, 
 
 Go number sands on sea-beat coast, 
 
 Go every truth in universe unfold ; 
 
 Then coming back descant on birth of sin. 
 
 Or wiser, sit at Wisdom's feet and wait, 
 
 Like child till God Himself the Soul instruct. 
 
244 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 The work of ruin now seem'd finished quite 
 And that which God did six days take to build 
 In moment short was all undone and lost. 
 Throughout the pit below was painful mirth, 
 And degradations triumph — such as fiends 
 All wither'd by the curse of God can feel. 
 The black flag high of Satan wav'd in air — 
 And earth run wild by strangest impulse beat, 
 Seem'd dashing to the pit, herself and all 
 To merge in deepest depth of black despair ; 
 While for a painful time all Heaven was still, 
 Nor God by dream nor voice nor look did speak. 
 The weeping Pair were now in fig tree hid 
 With hearts first-conscious of the fires of sin ; 
 While ever-gnawing sense of nakedness 
 Did greedy feed on soul and body both. 
 
 But the Redeemer's heart was now dissolv'd, 
 (For seeing He had long the work assum'd ;) 
 His pitying bowels yearn'd o'er ruin'd man, 
 And finding help, nor high nor low nor wide, 
 Himself He profFer'd and Himself He pledg'd. 
 Angels the verge of Glory crowded thick 
 And on Him placed aghast their steadfast gaze, 
 While all alone in haste He rapid flew 
 
PROVIDENCE. 245 
 
 From topmost Throne of gold to man's relief. 
 In cool of day when all was calm and still 
 His voice in Eden's groves was softly heard, 
 From secret place the sinner calling out. 
 Office of Judge discharg'd in weighty curse 
 'Gainst sin, He pointed to the distant Cross, 
 Where He by death would full atonement make, 
 And with the blood from his own bosom pour'd, 
 Would wash their souls, their sins all purge away. 
 
 At sight of Him the Tempter fled afraid, 
 Earth to her place returns again and smiles, 
 And Hope the pallid face of man illumes. 
 So in a mighty land of justest Prince, 
 Rebels awhile the Empire seem to hold ; 
 Till now at last by Lawful Sovereign met, 
 Mid crowding legions armour'd well with swords 
 And burnish'd spears that bristle thick around, 
 They fly at random from the field of war, 
 While round the royal banner cluster all, 
 Most glad to fall at feet of Sovereign Lord* 
 
 'Twas here commenc'd that dreadful War of war* 
 Of which all other wars are feeble parts, 
 Here first were drawn those weighty swords and long 
 31 * 
 
246 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Which blood shall drink and 'gainst each other clash, 
 Till Judgment-Day shall raise his trophy high 
 And spread his foes at feet of Christ subdued. 
 In this tremendous strife wars Son of God 
 With sullen Prince of Dark Perdition's den. 
 Angels of Light with Fiends of Hell below 
 Here grappling meet in fell encounter hard. 
 Truth with falsehood fights and good with ill. 
 The field is Heaven most high, and Earth and Hell ; 
 The weapons, fire and flood and earth and air ; 
 The battle's length, the length of longest time ; 
 The end, the good all sav'd the wicked damn'd. 
 
 And here, as if to triumph at the first, 
 
 The Saviour-God with holy promise sweet, 
 
 On very ruins which the Devil wrought, 
 
 With Sovereign Arm did lay the Corner Stone 
 
 Of that stupendous Fabric strong, which spite 
 
 Of Hell and Earth shall rise, till reaching Heaven, 
 
 The Everlasting God shall call it ' good — ' 
 
 And o'er it throwing his own effulgence 
 
 Shall it the New Jerusalem pronounce. 
 
 Loud sang the Heavenly Seraphim : ' Grace, 
 
 Free grace, ' and Earth the burning anthem caught, 
 
 As Son of God o'er Satan's rage prevail'd 
 
 And from the womb of Sin the Church was born. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 247 
 
 Yet Satan left the abodes of man not long ; 
 But soon return'd a brother's hand to stain 
 With brother's blood, and earth with sin pollute ; 
 Encourag'd, tho' by God Himself reprov'd 
 He soon the Nations drove to uglier things, 
 And fill'd the world with violence and death. 
 Fair Holiness, from ev'ry part of Earth 
 Expell'd, took lodgment in a single home, 
 The hope of Church but flicker'd on a point, 
 And ever and again appear'd to die ; 
 But still arose tho' weak and shone like spark 
 Of smallest size midst deepest shades of night. 
 'Tvvas then that God to sighing saints opprest 
 Deliv'rance brought — and calling on the Deep 
 He made him sweep to ruin the wicked ; 
 While far above the rage of Hell and Earth 
 He held in sacred ark his children dear, 
 And there sustaining rock'd them fast asleep 
 Upon his own soft breast of downy love — 
 As mothers oft the children of their care. 
 And then restoring gave to saints alone 
 The world, as arching Rainbow on the cloud 
 The grant confirm'd and Hope divine bestow'd. 
 
 Short the memory of a delug'd earth — 
 Young children more wise than Sire grown 
 
248 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 (As oft, in later times it happens too) 
 Did soon afar his good example leave ; 
 His pious precepts quickly dash away ; 
 And thinking his God too hard to serve 
 Call'd all their senses forth new gods to make. 
 
 The bad example takes, and rapid spreads 
 
 Through ranks of heedless youth and gray-hair'd men ; 
 
 And th' world goes whoring after creature-gods. 
 
 TTwas then that God did faithful Abram call 
 And him appoint as Father of the Just ; 
 The Covenant anew with him confirm ; 
 And to his distant Son the Saviour point : 
 While leap'd his heart to see the promis'd day. 
 
 As in a prison-hold of air confin'd, 
 
 Where dead on dead most putrid lie and close ; 
 
 Yet one survives amid the gen'ral fate — 
 
 He from the rest is quickly drawn away, 
 
 And in a larger place and fresher air 
 
 Is put, a freer life unharm'd to live : 
 
 So did the Lord from sinning mass of men 
 
 Idolatrous, his pious Son redeem 
 
 And him removing to a better place 
 
 He bade him live, and in his God confide. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 249 
 
 In pious fam'ly of this faithful Sire 
 From then till birth of distant promis'd seed, 
 The Providence of God supreme we see 
 For them directing plainly all events. 
 
 When captive in the fertile land of Nile, 
 And by a Tyrant's hand ground down in toil, 
 Their chains God broke, their burden lifted off; 
 The tyrant's cruel arm and host did crush, 
 And from their prison brought his children out 
 With songs, each on his arm reclining safe. 
 
 When nations all were straying wild in sin, 
 And groping each in search of truth unfound, 
 God, from the top of Oreb, banked in clowd, 
 With voice that shook the neighboring hills around, 
 And o'er the tribes below paleness diffused, 
 To them declared th' essential truth divine, 
 And bade them trembling to his Law give heed : 
 Himself proclaim'd their own, their Covenant-God, 
 And bade them in his statutes walk and live. 
 
 When through the pagan wilderness they past, 
 
 In Cloud by day and Fire by night He led, 
 
 From Rocks he gave them drink, and food from Heaven. 
 
250 PBOVIDENCE. 
 
 With father's pitying heart their manners bore, 
 And 'fore them beat their foes in terror down — 
 Jordan passed miraculous — Canaan reach'd, 
 He cast the heathen out, and there he plac'd 
 His church, in land with milk and honey flown. 
 
 Thus wall'd by grace, and by Jehovah rul'd, 
 With sun of truth brilliant in mid-sky plac'd, 
 That constant o'er his Land its radiance pour'd, 
 While holy banner, lifted far on high 
 The name of Israel's God in sight of all : 
 Recumbent on his vine the Hebrew lay, 
 Or under fig-tree sat, and God adored. 
 
 In days of him who next to Omri reign'd, 
 Fair truth but dimly shone on Israel's tents, 
 While crime and every wicked deed unveil'd 
 Stalked boldly through the land with proudest front. 
 The virtues of their Sires, and promises 
 Of God to them long made, were all forgot : 
 And all forgot the Hand that slew their foes, 
 And placed them in a goodly heritage. 
 Israel's God was now with Baalim join'd : 
 The altars of the groves had frequent priests ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 251 
 
 While holy men for truth were slain, and blood 
 Of Saint with blood of sacrifice was pour'd. 
 Apostate Ahab and his Heathen Queen, 
 Their vengeance poured on all the ways of God — 
 Fed at the Royal Board the Priests of Fiends : 
 And far from home the holy Tishbite drove. 
 
 Yet, God did still from Death his Church redeem, 
 
 And bless the remnant for Himself preserv'd. 
 
 The pious man of God, who long by caves, 
 
 And mountain-sides and brooks had liv'd expell'd 
 
 From distant Banishment and long returns — 
 
 Collects all Israel on a hallow'd spot : 
 
 The prophets of the groves collects — and then 
 
 His voice exalting high aloud proclaim'd — 
 
 1 How long ye wicked sons of Jacob's loins, 
 
 Twixt Baal and your God ye halt ? How long ? 
 
 If God be God obey, if Baal serve.' 
 
 He said, then water on his victim pour'd, 
 
 To God most high he rais'd his sagely look, 
 
 And on his name in view of all loud call'd. 
 
 Anon from Heaven the flame drops down, 
 
 Consumes his bullock and his altar burns : 
 
 While shouts from Israel's wand'ring ranks exclaimed : 
 
 « The Lord is God, the Lord is God alone,' 
 
252 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 At once the sword the blood of Baal's priests 
 Fast drinks, and Israel's Land is God's again. 
 
 Still, short the reformation — Restored 
 
 Israel sinn'd again, and re-restor'd 
 
 Again they wander'd off — till, latest tear 
 
 Of Mercy shed and Patience' line run out, 
 
 God to their wand'rings gave themselves, their all, 
 
 And emptying from the Holy Land bestow'd, 
 
 He pour'd them out upon the Nations round, 
 
 And let them with the guilty current run. 
 
 So from a vessel clean the faithful maid 
 
 In sewer near the filthy water pours, 
 
 And bids it float in mass with common stream. 
 
 So scattered God this race with tribes around — 
 Where by His eye alone distinctly kept, 
 They live and wander still from Him estray'd, 
 Estrayed from Truth, and from the light of Peace ; 
 Till He again shall join their scatter'd parts, 
 And with the Gentile fullness bring them in. 
 
 ****** 
 ****** 
 
BOOS V. 
 
 DIVINE PROVIDENCE TOWARDS THE CHURCH FROM THE 
 ADVENT OF CHRIST TO THE PRESENT TIME. 
 
 The world had now unmanageable grown 
 To human skill. Philosophers whose hands 
 Had long the helm self-prompted seiz'd fell down 
 From lofty place, like charioteer dead drunk : 
 While earth and all her works, on roughest rocks 
 Of dark damnation deep, well nigh had struck. 
 The dreadest shades of night the air all fill'd : 
 'Twas not like night by moon or star illum'd — 
 Or that which blackest thunder-cloud o'erspreads. 
 The Sun of Truth beyond the distant west, 
 Had long since hid. The twilight-moon of earth 
 From Zenith place fell rapid down, out-done, 
 And every star from firmament was gone. 
 The shades of Hell, which long were rising fast. 
 In dark Philosophy, and idle aims 
 22 
 
254 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Of men at Truth, now tow'ring high round earth 
 Were briskly traveling to the central sky ; 
 While ev'ry gleam of faintest light was out, 
 Save flick'ring Prophecies on Judah's hills, 
 Which God, with flaming angel standing by, 
 Did guard, and feed unknown with holy oil, 
 While through the shades the long expecting Saint 
 Did on their twinkling blaze his eyeball rest, 
 And anxious for the Hope of Israel, wait. 
 
 The cicled years o'er which the promise stretch'd, 
 
 In oath of God, like richest belt had pass'd. 
 
 The Prophecies, which long by pious Seers 
 
 Were spoke, fulfilment now did loudly ask. 
 
 The world was now to deepest wretchedness 
 
 Low sunk, and cover'd thick with moral sores. 
 
 Her eyes did eye-salve need ; her ears ask'd cure ; 
 
 Her head was sick, and all her heart was faint. 
 
 Her tomes were filFd with empty lore, the fruit 
 
 Of ages gone — the labor'd product deep 
 
 Of all the wise and learn'd — which could not purge 
 
 From human soul a stain ; or o'er despair 
 
 A star raise up ; but even begg'd themselves 
 
 For thorough cleansing from their moral filth. 
 
 The blood of calves and goats had freely run 
 
PROVIDENCE. 255 
 
 From Jewish and from Pagan altars high; 
 
 But still the soul polluted left behind. 
 
 The hyssop-branch and crystal fount had shed 
 
 Their cleansing dew o'er human guilt in vain. 
 
 The oil. that richly on the moral wound 
 
 Was pour'd, no healing wrought, or good produc'd ; 
 
 But left it still a putrid mass, deep sunk 
 
 With roots that round the central soul did twine, 
 
 Fore'er discharging from its head, a stream 
 
 Of ugly, putrid stuff, most nauseous, 
 
 Polluting deep and wide the moral man. 
 
 The costliest sacrifices stood in heaps 
 
 At temple-gate, and loudly begg'd for worth. 
 
 And Priest, but half with priestly garments drest, 
 
 Around his altar stood, and vacant look'd, 
 
 For want of solid ground or costly name 
 
 On which to base his frequent prayer, and worth 
 
 To often-bleeding sacrifice impart. 
 
 In short, the world all needed, and the world 
 
 All asked for speedy Advent of the Son, 
 
 By Father's love long seal'd and set apart 
 
 To wondrous work of Man's Redemption great. 
 
 Nor ask'd, nor needed long. For soon the Lord 
 Did to his Temple come ; and Sun of Truth 
 
256 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Did soon o'er earth his richest radiance pour. 
 But, who his Advent tell ? So low, so grand, 
 So dark, so bright, so mortal, so divine ? 
 
 'Twas not like descent on the desert-mount, 
 
 When cloud on cloud were thick around him thrown. 
 
 And lightning's flash and thunder's voice proclairn'd 
 
 A Deity — Nor like his second coming, 
 
 At final Judgment-Day, when sun shall blush, 
 
 And moon shall fade, and stars shall fall, and earth 
 
 And seas, and hills, and vales, and men shall quake ; 
 
 While thousand saints to thousands robed in white 
 
 Shall herald down the sky the Son of God ; 
 
 And Angel-voices loud shall on the dead 
 
 And on the living call to hear their doom. 
 
 Nor like the march of mighty earthly prince, 
 
 In purple rob'd, in chariot seated high, 
 
 As millions round him crowd in flatt'ries base, 
 
 And heralds cry before, " All bend the knee ;" 
 
 While lands and cities great in dust deep-sunk, 
 
 With outstretch'd arms, all welcome his approach, 
 
 And beg, low-bent, the favor of his eye. 
 
 Nor like the visit of an angel high, 
 
 In shining robes and face of brightest flame, 
 
 That at his feet the prophet often smote 
 
 In dust, and to the earth his head bent low. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 257 
 
 'Twas not with trumpet-tongue, a law to give ; 
 'Twas not the wicked from the just to part ; 
 'Twas not to dress up earthly greatness bright, 
 And round the vapor Fame, a halo throw, 
 Of God's own make ; or, to renown and rule 
 A single nation raise, with others round 
 Low crouching at their heels in vassalage ; 
 Nor into mortal hearts a terror deep 
 From bright appearance of a God to strike, 
 That might from scene of unmade grandeur drive 
 Them, shrinking fast away, and make them faint ; 
 'Twas not for ends like these Messiah comes — 
 Far other aims his holy soul inspires, 
 And from the lofty heavens to earth bring down. 
 The vile he comes to save, the lost to find, 
 The darkened teach, the palsied heal, the dead 
 To raise, and chains from captives to unbind. 
 He comes, the flaming attributes of God 
 To soften into love ; with men to dwell 
 In clay, and of their sympathies partake : 
 With weeping souls to weep, with mourning mourn ; 
 With poor be poor, and with the lowest live : 
 He comes on cross to die, and with the blood 
 From his own heart pour'd out, the Sword of Law 
 To sheathe — stern Justice' heart to satisfy, 
 22 * 
 
258 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And from their deeds the wicked wash most clean, 
 'Twas thus, as lamb to slaughter led, he comes, 
 And as a sheep before her shearers, dumb. 
 No rainbow round his head he wears, nor crown — 
 No sword all glitt'ring vibrates in his hand — 
 No bright attendants crowd him, arm'd around — 
 Nor voice he utters, nor a form assumes, 
 Affrighting men and shaking human hearts. 
 
 At rising hour, all nature nor surprise 
 
 Nor gladness seem'd to feel at great event. 
 
 The moon and stars did not from usual place 
 
 To distant east fast run, and gladly wait 
 
 On early rising Sun of Righteousness. 
 
 The heavens above with no unwonted tints 
 
 Did smile, nor mountains bend, nor valleys rise, 
 
 Nor woodlands shake, nor running streams stand still, 
 
 To welcome in Immortal Truth, and God 
 
 From heaven with loud hosannas hail. 
 
 The king upon his throne no crown takes off, 
 
 Or royal vestment lays in homage by, 
 
 Or sovereign edict through his kingdom sends 
 
 To publish far and wide the mighty deed — 
 
 Nor marshall'd troops parades, nor feasts, nor plays 
 
PROVIDENCE. 359 
 
 Appoints, nor towns illumes to celebrate. 
 
 The blood-stain'd hero rides the car of war 
 
 At ease, through flow'ry isles of roses sweet, 
 
 And air all fill'd with loudest flatteries, 
 
 As round him march in chains the kings 
 
 Whose soil of green the victor drench'd in blood ; 
 
 Whose towns he burn'd and subjects slew, and wives 
 
 And sons to want drove out and country sunk. 
 
 Intoxicate with pride, he neither asks 
 
 Nor thinks of advent of th' Incarnate God. 
 
 The murd'rous Tyrant, still his darkened brow 
 
 Collects — and o'er his trembling subjects holds 
 
 His sword ; — and still his throne he loads with blood. 
 
 The scholar still his school frequents, and o'er 
 
 The pages fill'd by Plato's mind, or those 
 
 By Aristotle writ, attempts the truth 
 
 To find ; nor from his search mid learned lore 
 
 His eyes he once takes off, or tow'rds the Babe 
 
 Of Bethlehem once turns. The prison still 
 
 Its captives holds in chains and dungeons deep. 
 
 The noisy speaker still the rostrum climbs 
 
 And loud declaims 'bout law and laws and crimes 
 
 And ambient air around crams full of politics. 
 
 His shop the merchant holds in busy trade ; 
 
 The billow high the sailor climbs for gold, 
 
260 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And sees his silver shine midst darkest storm. 
 
 The plowman still his plowshare deeply drives 
 
 While to his noisy lash the sturdy oxen groan. 
 
 The miser still his treasure hoards in chests 
 
 Of iron-work — and starts at shaking leaf, 
 
 Or moused tread, or hark of faithful dog. 
 
 The rich still roll in wealth midst sumptuous fare, 
 
 In costliest purple and in linen drest, 
 
 While still the beggar at their gates for crumbs 
 
 And rags and drink of water lowly begs. 
 
 The nuptial pomp and loaded feast on night 
 
 Of marriage still a merry crowd collect. 
 
 The proud still strut — the faithless cheat — and false 
 
 Still load their tongues with heavy lies — And thief 
 
 With wanton eyes the wealth of neighbor's barn 
 
 Close watches hard, and for it nightly plots. 
 
 And all the affairs of guilty earth drive on 
 
 At usual rate. Nor great nor small (save few) 
 
 Nor wise nor rude the promis'd advent hail'd. 
 
 And e'en the Doctors of the Law and Scribes 
 
 And Pharisees, whose hands the Book of God 
 
 Oft held, and eyes o'er promise roll'd, nor ask'd 
 
 Nor wish'd to know the Infant-Son of God. 
 
 But still around him blazed Divinity — 
 
 And pious souls that through their tears look'd out, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 261 
 
 Beheld around the scene a lustre bright, 
 
 Which augur'd well the advent of their God. 
 
 The loftiest Seraph midst the sons of light, 
 
 Chief officer in Government most high, 
 
 Whose head of flame the longest rainbow wore, 
 
 Of all who burn'd in love mid Temple High — 
 
 Whose wings of snow-beat whiteness widest stretch'd — 
 
 Whose seat of honor next the throne did stand, 
 
 And who in swiftest flight left far behind, 
 
 On faltering wing the rest of Seraphim, 
 
 And by whose side hang down the largest seal 
 
 Of Government Supreme ; to earth came down, 
 
 And to the Virgin spous'd of David's line 
 
 Proclaim'd his birth, and her the Mother nam'd. 
 
 To Shepherds on the plains of Bethlehem, 
 
 That all night long their bleating gangs had watch'd, 
 
 Midst darkest shades of night a glory shone 
 
 That fill'd with fear their hearts, while on their ears 
 
 A voice Divine in sweetest tones of love, 
 
 Pour'd richly down the heav'nly tidings sweet, 
 
 As numerous sons of bliss through mid-sky flew, 
 
 Filling the fun'ral vault of reigning night 
 
 With loudest praise to God, and peace to man. 
 
 To heathen Magi of the east a Star 
 
 Appears, and to the place where humbly lay 
 
262 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 The babe, their feet directs ; while from their purse 
 
 They richest gifts draw out, and bending low 
 
 At holy feet, their costly presents pour. 
 
 From bloody sword of murd'rous Herod, King, 
 
 Whose hands had oft been deep imbrued in gore, 
 
 Andlieart grew glad as round him lay the corse 
 
 Of wife or child, by his own dagger slain, 
 
 An angel strong to Egypt leads away 
 
 The child, and there from Tyrant's wrath protects. 
 
 A Prophet, to the Temple led by God 
 
 Himself, the infant to his bosom clasps, 
 
 Messias calls, and God's Salvation Great ; 
 
 A Light to Gentile lands ; to holy seed 
 
 A constant joy, while leaps his gladden'd heart, 
 
 As towards the world above his eye he turns, 
 
 And prays for angel-flight to final rest. 
 
 He, too — the Infant Son — did often show 
 
 Most wondrous deeds, and words of wisdom speak, 
 
 That wise confounded, and the pious made 
 
 Most glad, as in his youthful acts they saw 
 
 The Prophecies fulfill'd, and Shadows end. 
 
 Though God, yet Christ was truly human flesh ; 
 Was bone of bone, and blood of blood with men. 
 Nor could the Godhead full from infant soul 
 
PROVIDENCE. 263 
 
 So well itself display, and all its weight 
 On milky bones, and tender flesh bear down. 
 Nor had the union sweet with human clay, 
 So well been seen, if o'er his childish state 
 The perfect blaze of Deity were cast. 
 And thus, consistent well with mortal state, 
 Awhile confin'd the Saviour seems, nor lifts 
 At once his glory up ; but still, shoots forth 
 At times a glory-beam on human eyes. 
 So, oft at early dawn, when rising sun 
 Has just the verge of eastern sky outrun, 
 And ready seems to shine, bank after bank 
 Along the dark clouds float ; and o'er the scene 
 A sombre shadow throw, save now and then 
 As through their folding rents, the rays leap out, 
 And momentary blaze to mortals give. 
 
 But hark ! a voice from Jordan's Wilderness 
 
 Most shrill, and loud, and bold, the people 
 
 All collects, and from their deepest slumber wakes. 
 
 All Israel stirs ; Jerusalem her eyes 
 
 From hatted Doctors draws reluctant off, 
 
 And towards the Desert wild looks out. 
 
 The Scribes and Pharisees, as on their seats 
 
 Of cushion'd silk they lounging lay, and oft 
 
264 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Profoundly snored as in their tamest ears 
 The meaner sort their tickling flatt'ries pour'd, 
 Beneath them felt the pillars crack, and thrones 
 Of long-claimed reverence most harshly shake, 
 While to the haunts of Jordan's farther side 
 A monied embassage they quickly send. 
 
 But, the parading crowds still onward move 
 
 In mighty groups, their houses leaving far. 
 
 The desert lives ; and still from every coast 
 
 And town, and vale, and hill, they briskly come. 
 
 So move the waves of ocean deep, while long 
 
 Her furrow'd breast some wildly storm drives on 
 
 In sullen grandeur dark ; as on the coast 
 
 Ten thousand waters break, and still behind 
 
 Ten thousand more succeed, — so mov'd the hosts. 
 
 Around the desert-speaker now they stand 
 
 And fix'd in deep astonishment all gaze. 
 
 Nor strange — For he to them was seldom sight : 
 
 His dress was wild and coarsely grand — His hair 
 
 Like straws of stateliest pine — His beard like moss 
 
 Hung gloomy down — His aspect rough as oak 
 
 Of biggest size — His eyes were balls of flame : 
 
 His voice like clam'rous winds mid mountain -tops. 
 
 His plain address was like the thunder storm — 
 
PROVIDENCE. 265 
 
 His rapid thoughts like lightning's hottest bolts — 
 While o'er th' astonish'd ranks around, he pours 
 A constant tide of nature's simplest speech, 
 Which to themselves their hearts wide open threw — 
 Their lives outlaid, and bade them trembling gaze. 
 
 Astonish'd all, all ask'd, " From whence ? and Who ? 
 
 Elijah ? Prophet ? or the promis'd Christ ? 
 
 In desert born ? Or fallen from a star ? 
 
 Or angel plainly garbed to earth just sent ? 
 
 A Gentile sage just into greatness grown ? 
 
 Or one of Jacob's sons but mantled late, 
 
 As holy Prophet born beyond his time ? " 
 
 The case was hard, and all their queries vain, 
 While to their lab'ring minds the holy Son 
 Of Zacharias solved the mystery dark : 
 Himself declared — his mission and its end. 
 Then 'mong their scatter 'd ranks espying clear 
 The Christ, by Holy Ghost to him reveal'd 
 His arm he long thrust out, and voice he raised, 
 And loud exclaim'd, " Behold the Lamb of God ! " 
 
 Baptized, the heavens above wide open fly 
 In prompt obeisance to th' Anointed Lord. 
 23 
 
30$ PROVIDENCE. 
 
 In dove-like shape the Holy Ghost descends 
 
 And on him lights in view of all. While from 
 
 TV Eternal Throne the Highest speaks, and Him 
 
 Declares his First and Chief and Only Son. 
 
 'Twas then his mouth the Son of Joseph ope'd, 
 
 While o'er the Tribes of Israel's chosen seed 
 
 His speech like streams on desert lands descends, 
 
 And like the nightly dews upon the grass. 
 
 The mountains bend their stately heads to hear. 
 
 The trees their fix'd attention give most close, 
 
 And beasts and birds beneath his sweetest voice 
 
 Forget awhile their food, aud busy gaze. 
 
 The yeomanry from flocks and fields and homes 
 
 Are charm'd away — the merchant leaves his trade • 
 
 His post of trust the warring soldier quits — 
 
 With babe in wearied arms the mother comes, 
 
 And by her side her son of shorter steps ; 
 
 Upon his quivering staff decrepid age 
 
 His cumbrous weight suspends, and slowly moves, 
 
 While by his wishful side on swifter foot, 
 
 The smiling stripling staves in rapid race. 
 
 And all of every class and grade the Son 
 
 Of David seek and on his tongue repose. 
 
 The Law of God, which long had slept, interr'd 
 Beneath the trash of human thoughts and notes, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 
 
 tot 
 
 And shallow comments crude ; or in the text 
 
 Was hid, like keenest sword in silken sheath, 
 
 The Holy Speaker rais'd in grandeur up, 
 
 And round it threw its power and life and edge* 
 
 Virtue o'er whom the rankest vices foul 
 
 In fairest robes had long since proudly trod, 
 
 He drest in robes and shining ornaments ; 
 
 And on her head a crown of finest gold 
 
 Did firmly set, and in her hand a rod 
 
 Of iron place, and bid her sovereign reign. 
 
 And thrones, and diadems, and human fame, 
 
 Sinking far down beneath his holy gaze, 
 
 The meek, the poor, the humble and the good 
 
 He raised, and highest thrones to them assigned. 
 
 With nicest scales from Holy Throne brought down, 
 
 He men and things all closely weigh'd, and fix'd 
 
 On each his name, his value and his size ; 
 
 That labelPd well blind man may no more err, 
 
 And that a treasure call which was but trash, 
 
 Or that a wholesome dose which to its heart 
 
 Was rankest poison 'gainst his very soul : 
 
 Then pointing far on high, the people all 
 
 He bade for Life Eternal manful strive, 
 
 And on the Rock of Ages firmly build, 
 
 Lest Judgment-storms should far their buildings wash 
 
268 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Away, and on the gloomy Gulph of Death 
 Their withered corpses spread consum'd and lost. 
 
 Nor from his lips alone dropt heavenly truth — 
 
 Disease and death and wind and wave obey'd 
 
 His voice most prompt, and him as master claim'd. 
 
 The leprous soul that long without the house 
 
 Of God had wander 'd sad, and often wept 
 
 As towards his coming fate his eye he turn'd, 
 
 But touched, is clean, and with the soundest stands. 
 
 The blind, for whom no morning sun had blush'd, 
 
 And on whose sight the smiles of parents dear 
 
 x\nd home had never shed their sweetest beams, 
 
 At his command look out and see most glad. 
 
 The deaf ear healed salvation hears — The dumb 
 
 In praises high of God their tongues employ. 
 
 The palsied feel new life through all their limbs, — 
 
 And scorching fevers leave their long burnt frames 
 
 At his rebuke. And fiends of cruel heart, 
 
 Which long had made of human frames their home, 
 
 And into deserts drove and 'mong the tombs, 
 
 Their houses leave expell'd, and loud ex claim'd ;— 
 
 " Thou art the Son of God." The sweeping storm, 
 
 That into dismal rage the deep had thrown 
 
 And fiercely rode upon its pinions dark, 
 
 His voice confess'd, and at his feet lies calm'd. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 
 
 The grave her dead to life sends back again $ 
 And all in Heaven or air or earth or sea, 
 Him own'd their Lord and at his call, obey'd. 
 
 But short, his earthly toil and pious care, 
 For soon a prey he fell to human rage. 
 
 And, here, my Muse, the cause and instrument 
 In full declare, and timely warning give 
 To enemies of holiness, and those 
 Who hold the christian name in base pretence. 
 
 Of passions vilest in the human soul 
 Is Envy — bane of every bliss, and gall 
 Of all the springs that o'er life's desert run. 
 With Vulture's maw its own great heap it leaves. 
 And strives to wrest the grain that starving want 
 Consumes ; or, failing, seeks its neighbor's blood. 
 While other vices prey in part on things 
 Beside, on human woe alone this feeds. 
 And while the rest in swift pursuit fatigue, 
 This, still voracious, young and strong, pursues: 
 Nor quits the field, till latest joy devour'd, 
 It turns its greedy throat and glassy eye 
 Towards heaven above, and loudly asks for more. 
 23 * 
 
 269 
 
270 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 So, falling into hell, Apolyan long'd 
 
 Fair Eden's bloom to spoil, and on the peace 
 
 Of new-made man, forever prey, and at 
 
 His dismal groans and tears, infernal laugh. 
 
 And so, the good exalted high o'er men 
 
 Of meaner grade, have been but public mark 
 
 At which the meanest scoundrel shoots his darts 
 
 Of poison'd blade ! Oh despicable pest 
 
 Of human race ! Murder's confederate ! 
 
 The life of crime ! The death of every joy ! 
 
 Tearless monster ! Insinuating thief ! 
 
 Haggard fiend ! angel of the pit below ! 
 
 The meanest guest that human hearts maintain ! 
 
 Oh Envy, what ? Oh what shall be thy name ? 
 
 Long in the breast of Scribes and Pharisees 
 
 Had this foul passion rag'd, as they beheld 
 
 The rising fame of Joseph's Son. Though plain, 
 
 Yet all his works they falsified, and at 
 
 His virtues grinn'd, and frown'd, in base contempt. 
 
 His overthrow they long and anxious wish'd, 
 
 And prayed to see his inmost blood besmear'd 
 
 Upon their hands as holy ornaments. 
 
 But who shall him betray, and at their dread 
 Tribunal hail ? The Gentile Roman scorns 
 
PROVIDENCE. 271 
 
 A deed so base : the bigot Jew objects ; 
 
 While fiends themselves all blush'd, as Judas, thou, 
 
 His Friend, his Taught, his Preacher, and his Guest, 
 
 Thy service proffers willing, and thy Lord 
 
 For Thirty parts of shining dust betrays ! 
 
 Oh wretched love of Gold ! The root complete 
 
 Of every filthy, mean, and perj'rous deed ! 
 
 For thee some stamp all virtue down in dust ! 
 
 For thee the Widow eats her latest cake, 
 
 And with her orphan'd children, dies for bread ! 
 
 For thee some sell their country, and their home ! 
 
 Some fetter, chain and sell their fellow men ! 
 
 Some spirits make, and round the massy world 
 
 The liquid tide of burning flame fast pour ; 
 
 And some (and these the fairest call'd) for thee 
 
 Themselves, their virtue, heaven, and hope, all sell 
 
 To meanest profligate that in his hand 
 
 The baiting cash holds out ! Most niggard thing ! 
 
 The only inmate of the miser's soul ! 
 
 The mammon worshipp'd hard by half the race, 
 
 And oft the heaviest weight that sinks to hell ! 
 
 And thus, by love of gain, to Envy sold, 
 
 A scene succeeds which Fiends accurs'd, alone 
 
272 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Could imitate. Accusations false and mean, 
 
 Insulting blows, pricking thorns and scarlet robes, 
 
 Hisses and sneers, slander's bitt'rest venom, 
 
 Clamor, rage, blasphemies and cruel sport, 
 
 All pour their vengeance on the Sufferer ! 
 
 Nor these alone : Condemned without a crime, 
 
 To Calvary's brow his rugged cross he bears ; 
 
 Nailed in his hands, his feet, he writhing hangs — 
 
 Essential Virtue bleeding ! Innocence 
 
 In anguish ! The Prince of Peace, earth's only Hope, 
 
 Groaning on a tree ! Immortal Life dying ! 
 
 The Comforter comfortless ! The Saviour 
 
 Undelivered ! God himself in death ! 
 
 But still, no murmur 'scapes his holy lips ; 
 
 And still eternal love his spirit binds, 
 
 While rais'd his eye, to God Most High he cries : 
 
 " Father, forgive, they know not what they do." 
 
 And then his ig^iBS^tilitiig^er raised exclaims : 
 
 6 'Tis finished ' — God is just and man is sav'd — 
 
 While thousand souls in Heaven again shout back : 
 
 * Amen, Alleluia — God is just 
 
 And man is sav'd : Amen, Alleluia ! ' 
 
 Taken from the bloody cross, in Death's cold grave 
 
 He lies. Yet slumbers short : for soon the time 
 
 Appointed comes, while from his rocky tomb 
 
PROVIDENCE. 273 
 
 Th' Deliverer ascends with Death in chains, 
 And precious gifts in either hand for men. 
 Then on his friends his richest grace bestow'd, 
 He bade them spread the news o'er every land : 
 " Go preach to every creature ; preach the grace 
 To Jews and Greeks, the wise and rude ; Indians 
 Teach, and Northern Tribes ; Afric's sons instruct ; 
 Let every island hear, and all the seas, 
 And every son of earth the tidings know." 
 He said — then through the sky upward he rose. 
 Heaven's Eternal Gates wide open flew in haste, 
 
 And God, the God of Glory, entered in. 
 
 ****** 
 ******* 
 ****** 
 
BOOS VI. 
 
 DIVINE SOVEREIGNTY AS DISPLAYED IN NATURE AND 
 THE VARIOUS OBJECTS OF HUMAN SCIENCE. 
 
 Creator ! God ! uphold me still, as through 
 Thy works divine, with deep inquisitiveness 
 I singing stroll, and in thy creatures all 
 And ways, Thee first and last and only praise. 
 The Spirit, that in vision caught the Seer, 
 And bore in rapture through the air, and show'd 
 Most heav'nly sights, bid take me up and bear. 
 Like little babe in nurse's arms abroad, 
 That I with guide Divine, and holy awe, 
 May in thy works Thyself throughout behold, 
 And in my deepest soul thy name adore. 
 Philosophy, that stops at second cause, 
 And calls creation God, from me withhold ; 
 And that which seeing, bashful, fears to own 
 The truth. Me taught by grace to lisp thy name, 
 
276 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And Thee my Father call, teach other things. 
 And as upon the rolling wave I lie, 
 Or float on pearly stream, or rapid fly 
 On lightning's wings, or with the thunder loud 
 My shrill tones join, or drive at comet-rate 
 The vast Immense, or into dark unknown 
 With lantern go — where'er my journey lie, 
 Thee may I own, and thee triumphant sing. 
 
 But who, shall bold the mighty voyage take, 
 
 And sail advent'rous o'er infinity ? 
 
 Who climb the highest height, and then deep down 
 
 The lowest depth descend ? Who, tourist like, 
 
 Shall visit thy vast realm, Parent of all ? 
 
 The vast I will not try — but only coast, 
 
 By aid of thee, the edge of thine own works, 
 
 Like sailor-youth untried, in frailest bark, 
 
 Who fears the mighty deep, and storm to brave. 
 
 The age of Nature and her size, to none 
 Is plainly known ; since all are younger bom, 
 Nor God precise the truth has yet reveal 'd. 
 Some call all nature Earth, and think the Sun, 
 And Moon, and Stars, just higher than the clouds, 
 But lamps created special for man's use. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 277 
 
 Some, higher taught, such narrow views detest, 
 And think the bound of nature and their eye 
 The same : While the Philosopher declares 
 His Telescopic stars are nature too. 
 Some see as useless made aught but themselves, 
 And gravely wonder, why Wisdom Divine 
 Should things so mean and harmful make — While oft, 
 The viler ask, why made the higher lives, 
 . O'er them to lord and in the dust tread down ? 
 Thus, all the truth forsake, and vainly sport 
 In mad attempt to measure 5 God by skill 
 Of finite minds. But, he who would the facts 
 Perceive, must first his scanty thoughts reject — 
 All human vision quite forsake and by 
 The Throne Eternal standing high, must on 
 The Great Creator gaze, and ask, what works 
 With Deity comport ? Eternal Power what? 
 And what can Wisdom do ? And goodness what V 
 Immensity can how much hold ? And vast 
 Eternity embrace how much of Time ? 
 Creation what, which God Himself creates ? 
 How vast, how boundless, how immense, how grand, 
 How beautiful, how various the Frame, 
 Which proper offspring of the Throne beseems ? 
 And such Creation is, and needs to be — 
 24 
 
278 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Boundless as God, and varied too as wide, 
 Beyond the highest thought of man still high, 
 And than the deepest deep. Nor void. But all 
 Rich fill'd with goodness, and with wonder fill'd. 
 Each system a universe — each world 
 A system grand : each separate thing a world : 
 The smallest great — the lowest high — and those 
 Of ugly shape with beauty richly drest. 
 Nor adverse and discordant all. All parts 
 Distinct yet join'd of one Tremendous Whole. 
 All sounds, tho' harsh, their fellow tones possess 
 With which they sweetest music make ; and sights 
 Their proper place, where naught beside so fair. 
 Connections vast — gradations infinite, 
 Yet clear, distinct and all harmonious found : 
 All one vast mirror bright, that from its face, 
 On God his own perfections throws. One great 
 String'd Instrument, that pours on ear Divine, 
 From all his works, the richest harmonies. 
 
 Such the Mighty Palace, God for himself, 
 And for his creatures, built. Such the fields 
 Of holy philosophic search, that 'fore 
 Inquiring minds the great Creator spread ; 
 And in them sink the fonts of knowledge deep. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 279 
 
 Nor different from Himself or Word the works 
 
 Of God ; as skeptics oft have tried to prove, 
 
 That thence they might a laxer rule of life 
 
 Deduce, and hope before the wicked spread. 
 
 The attributes of God on nature all 
 
 Are clearly stamp'd. The heavens and the earth, 
 
 And land and sea, do all his glory show ; 
 
 While on his inmost soul man striking bears 
 
 The marks of first creating Energy. 
 
 Each tree its own fruit bears — and actions all 
 
 The source resemble whence they come — The good 
 
 All meanness shun — the bad all virtue hate — 
 
 Most sure, then, works and ways and word of God, 
 
 Must like himself all look most beautiful ; 
 
 And each a volume Be, where all may read 
 
 Entranc'd, their Maker's glories and his Law. 
 
 Nature is but Revelation enlarged — 
 The greater volume spreading through all space, 
 The light of truth and knowledge of a God. 
 There stands his Power, holding in its hands, 
 The massy globes of worlds innumerous ; 
 Their orbits guiding and their systems grand 
 Controlling errorless. There dwells his Wisdom ; 
 That with hand unseen, proportions, governs, 
 
280 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Harmonizes all : — with pencil now far dipt 
 
 In God's own glory, painting on his works, 
 
 In forms unnumbered, lineaments divine ; 
 
 And now the motions watching of the great 
 
 Machine, the whole, and every part, to its 
 
 Own destination guiding safe. There, too, 
 
 His goodness — goodness much abus'd — contemn'd ; 
 
 Relied on, spurn'd, yet made the sinner's boast. 
 
 In day of bright prosperity, the platform 
 
 Wide on which he crimes effects, and sins 
 
 Of peerless summit lifts to heaven. In time 
 
 Of reck'ning, th' fortress strong, within whose walls 
 
 He shelter safely takes, and vengeance and 
 
 Damnation loud defies. Yet wide abroad 
 
 This Goodness liv'd, and was the very heart 
 
 Of Power and Wisdom both — the mighty 
 
 Moral Lever on whose wheeling turn'd 
 
 Nature's great framework. Nor was Mercy absent. 
 
 In a thousand forms, where death upon 
 
 The heels of sin follow'd not, she mildly spoke, 
 
 And told, though seldom heard, of some great 
 
 Reservoir of love, whence streams of pardon 
 
 To the guilty flow. Of retribution, too, 
 
 A thousand images were shadow'd forth — » 
 
 As when, at last, delaying Justice found 
 
PROVIDENCE. 381 
 
 Its victim, and on him pour'd, in sight of all, 
 
 Its long-stored vengeance ; or, when within, 
 
 A conscience, loaded down with crime, from sense 
 
 Of guilt and deep remorse, self-murdering, 
 
 The soul look'd upward to the Judgment -Bar, 
 
 And in its frantic ravings, saw itself 
 
 Arraign'd — the Judge in frowns — his anger hot — 
 
 His looks like lightning's flash : His word the soul's 
 
 Damnation fix'd : and, in itself, with echo 
 
 Of a loud amen, its own destruction seal'd. 
 
 'Twas merciful and wise to make it so. 
 How many souls long stray'd from light of truth 
 Reveal'd, had else, themselves, their source, their 
 Destiny forgot ! Restricted is the 
 Written Word ; boundless the Natural Law. 
 The light the latter gives to man, diseased 
 With sin, is small, 'tis true ; yet, 'tis something. 
 The mountains, vales, the deep green forest, 
 Rolling streams, wandering herdlings, and the tribes 
 Of painted-winged insects, and a thousand 
 Beauties more ; and often roads and paths — 
 Are not by star-light clearly seen. But still 
 Some rays upon the eyeballs come, that give 
 
 24 * 
 
382 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 A faint distinctness to the pilgrim's way, 
 And often from unnumbered dangers guard. 
 
 'Tis true, that in this morally obscure, 
 
 Where truth but seldom shines, and often sinks 
 
 Entire from human gaze, lives Superstition — 
 
 Twilight Monster, that round him gathers thick, 
 
 His ghostly tribes of gods and demigods, 
 
 Of charms, and midnight miracles, fairies, 
 
 Imps, of dreams and visions, with a list 
 
 Importable of mummied rites and haggard 
 
 Forms, that long have held in chains the minds 
 
 And bodies too, of half the race. Yet this 
 
 Is but the use that Satan and the hearts 
 
 Of men depraved, in close alliance join'd, 
 
 Do make of things in their own nature good. 
 
 How oft amidst a scene where Nature's skill 
 
 Seems to the utmost tried, and where the vast 
 
 And beautiful in strange and rich variety 
 
 Are spread — how oft midst scene like this — has fancy, 
 
 Sporting in her midnight mood, from brain 
 
 Of passing traveler, bewitch'd from childhood 
 
 With the tales of Ghosts, presented to his mind 
 
 A ghastly host of spirits, demons, 
 
 Sights unearthly, rising now in majesty 
 
PROVIDENCE. 283 
 
 Of terror ; now grinning with infernal looks ; 
 
 O'er pendant now, as if to lay on innocence 
 
 An iron arm ; and now remote and swift, 
 
 As if themselves afraid — Meanwhile a dire 
 
 Trepidation seizes fast th' affrighted heart ; 
 
 Rapid runs the blood ; the head is frenzied ; 
 
 While down the limbs the sweat of fear drops cold — 
 
 As he who walks an earthly paradise, 
 
 Does naught but spectres feel, around him see. 
 
 So here ; with Light of Nature, Natural Law, 
 
 And of the Moral Sense, things good in themselves, 
 
 The guilty soul a thousand ill-form'd shapes 
 
 Of Virtue and of Vice originates ; 
 
 With combinations strange of ideas 
 
 Far remote and opposite, conceptions 
 
 Forms, which things resemble nor in heaven, 
 
 Earth, nor hell ; but which to itself so look 
 
 Substantial, that it yields at once its creed 
 
 And homage too. Yet guilty yields. For truth 
 
 Divine has no affinity with lies : 
 
 And he who tries to join, her essence spoils, 
 
 And Author, gross insults. Especially, 
 
 When truth is but apology for lies — 
 
 The deep foundation in pretence, where 
 
 All the splendid fabrics built to error rest — 
 
284 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And where the idea, God, is pretext used 
 For ev'ry form of base idolatry. 
 Besides ; man 's a probationer below, 
 And most his trial here consists, in truth 
 From error separating — in marking close, 
 With eye discerning, and a pious heart, 
 The path which honors or dishonors God ; 
 In following, magi-like, where brighter 
 Lights have fail'd, the twinkling star that leads 
 To place where Holiness and Mercy dwell. 
 
 What millions still in this dim twilight grope, 
 Haunted by fiends and spectres from the pit 
 Below ! How great their misery ! How loud 
 Their cry ! How dark their future destiny ! 
 Oh ye disciples of the Lamb once slain, 
 To whose most sacred trust belongs the work 
 Of lifting o'er the earth the Sun of Truth, 
 And giving to the dying life and hope ; 
 Let naught delay you on your march of love ! 
 Fling wealth, and joys, and honor far away ; 
 Yea, life itself. Let friends, nor home, nor wife, 
 Nor child, nor parents dear, nor charms unnumber'd 
 Of a Christian's land ; nor fears, nor sultry clime, 
 Nor rude society, nor vices foul, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 285 
 
 Nor madden'd priests, nor angry kings, nor fiends 
 From hell, prevent or hesitate your course. 
 Ye go — the rude to teach, the lost to find, 
 The captives to unloose, the dead to raise : 
 To pour on wounded hearts the only balm. 
 Ye go — - as messengers of Heaven — the promise 
 With you goes ; angels go ; yea, God himself. 
 Nor small your hire. Full many a heathen soul, 
 By you redeemed, shall rise and call you blest. 
 The thanks of widow'd hearts, orphans' tears, 
 The bursting joys of prodigals return'd, 
 The songs of saints, the shouts of angels loud, 
 The smiles of God, the bliss of heaven are yours. 
 Then speed your course — authority commands — 
 Prompts gratitude — duty bids — mis'ry calls — 
 Piety urges — the cry of millions pleads : 
 Yea, heaven and earth and hell direction give, 
 And wo, wo, wo to him who knowing, yet 
 Omits to do his Master's will ! 
 
 Still, Light of Nature is in naught distinct 
 From that of Written Word. The source is one ; 
 The tendency the same : each honors God ; 
 Each duty teaches man. The diff 'rence lies 
 But in the Books, not in the things themselves. 
 
286 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 The Written Word is plain, is full, is sure ; 
 Is medicine adapted special for 
 The cure of sin. But Nature's Light is broad. 
 Is dim — to man is dim, because his eyes, 
 By long transgression weak, perceives it not. 
 One 's like the light which first on chaos shone — 
 Gen'ral, diffus'd, and only glimm'ring bright : 
 Other like radiance of the full orb'd sun, 
 Around whose centre fast, Omnipotence 
 Arrang'd and treasur'd up the scatter'd rays 
 Of chaos, and to them gave condens'd, 
 A steady brilliancy. Yet, he who tries 
 Them opposite to make, contention stirs 
 Between the friendly beams, which issue both 
 From one great Luminary ; commingling 
 Waters from the parent spring he tries to 
 Agitate ; to make the Harp in Nature's 
 Hand discordant notes emit ; yea, God 
 To set against Himself. 
 
 Shake from thine eyes thy scales, Infidelity. 
 
 If thou art wise, then read aright and learn 
 
 The truth. Read Nature, read the Written Word : 
 
 With close attention read ; the oil of study 
 
 Burn profuse. Thy boasted powers of mind collect. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 287 
 
 Read with docility — Philosophers 
 
 Are never proud — and read with solemn awe ; 
 
 For thou art studying serious things, on which 
 
 Thy peace, thy life, thy soul, thine all depends. 
 
 Nor read a part — the whole with care peruse — 
 
 And say, in candor say, Does nature strive, 
 
 Or infidels, with Written Word ? Say, Where 
 
 The discord lies ? Whence rise these jarring sounds ? 
 
 If honest, thou replyest, " All without is right, 
 
 Harmonious ; within, wrong and confus'd." 
 
 The evil 's in thy heart ; 'tis self that 's out 
 
 Of place : thou art thyself in error found. 
 
 Then truth confess, nor lay thy faults upon 
 
 Thy Maker or his works. Confess, 'tis right . 
 
 Thy creed has slander'd God, and harm'd his cause. 
 
 'Tis noble to confess ; to harbor lies 
 
 Is base. Confess and be forgiven ; for He, 
 
 Whom thou hast often wrong'd, is gracious still. 
 
 Err also they who leave to nature's light 
 
 Her far-stray'd sons ; whose creed, indulgent quite 
 
 To heathen and to self, nor one assigns to hell, 
 
 Nor other plagues with calls for money, 
 
 Toil, or prayers. To these the Natural Law 
 
 In quantity is one as well as kind 
 
288 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 With that reveal'd — each certain, each most safe - 
 
 Nor need the Christian much concern himself 
 
 About the heathen's state — 'tis good as his. 
 
 To one is given less, to other more, 
 
 And for his stock alone must each account. 
 
 To send to them the costly gospel, is 
 
 To feed the full ; the well and sound to cure 
 
 With medicine : 'Tis worse ; to make all sick, 
 
 Then cure but part ; a ruinous work, which none 
 
 That love themselves or fellow-men, can e'er 
 
 Consent to do. Thus hugging gold and self, 
 
 Do some, and these baptiz'd ! withhold the bread 
 
 Of life from nations, starving for the want 
 
 Of crumbs. In privileges rich themselves, 
 
 If not in grace, they others wish to keep 
 
 In poverty. Or, self-secure, others 
 
 They think as safe as they. And thus through love 
 
 For all the race and honor for their God, 
 
 They neither try the one to save, nor other 
 
 To obey ! But slumb'ring hard at noon on hill 
 
 Of Zion high, they, from their heights of grace, 
 
 The heathen see, or ought to see, in groups, 
 
 That dark, like mountain shades, the nations fill, 
 
 To hell in dread procession marching fast ; 
 
 While to their hearts, encas'd in error and 
 
PROVIDENCE. 289 
 
 In sin, the mighty wo, nor one appeal 
 
 Nor deep impression makes ! Oh shame ! Are these 
 
 Thy friends, Redeemer ? These thy followers ? 
 
 In regions of eternal love, dwell there 
 
 Such banks of ice ? amid the landscapes green, 
 
 Of endless love, such deserts, burnt and curst ? 
 
 Whence come such souls ? And whither do they go ? 
 
 Oh slumb'rers, wake — your strength gird on in haste — 
 
 The time for talk is gone - — the Sun of life 
 
 Is high — Eternity approaches fast — 
 
 The Heathen die. Ah. ! see them sink ! They fall 
 
 To rise no more ! — Then speed your way, and save, 
 
 Oh save, oh pluck them from the depths beneath. 
 
 But cease thy stray in gs, Muse ! Philosophers 
 
 And Schools are waiting on thy song. Thy seat 
 
 Is 'mong Academies ; and at the fonts 
 
 Whence gush deep-sent the streams of knowledge pi 
 
 The learned thou art teaching, and the lore 
 
 Of ages gone art setting to thy song. 
 
 Say, where then, where is Science' Temple found ? 
 And what its furniture ? 'Tis Nature vast. 
 Worlds are apartments ; continents but cells, 
 Where lie arrang'd her costly stores of wonders. 
 25 
 
200 PROVIDENCE, 
 
 Her books are ocean, land, the air and fire ; 
 
 Vegetable tribes, and tribes of living things ; 
 
 Minerals, elements : — her objects of 
 
 Pursuit, all that the Deity has made. 
 
 Too grand are none, and none too mean, too high 
 
 Nor too remote. The universe 's the field ; 
 
 And all and every part of that great whole, 
 
 Fit subjects for the scrutiny of mind. 
 
 *Tis here aspiring Genius dwells, and year 
 
 By year through long inquisitiveness, 
 
 And deep and tireless search, her truths, as if 
 
 From chaos brings. 'Tis here, the mighty live, 
 
 Whose intellects of angel-size, the thought 
 
 Far distant and obscur'd in wilderness 
 
 Of ideas floating round, like faintest star 
 
 Midst thousand brighter ones, distinctly see 
 
 And into nearness, into grandeur bring, 
 
 As from its bright disclosures others flee. 
 
 The siiver'd Sires of human lore are here — 
 
 Patriarchs of Knowledge ! Mighty Spirits ! 
 
 Leaning with child-like trust upon the Throne ; 
 
 Yet, at whose mandate nature passes by 
 
 In long procession, showing, as she goes, 
 
 Her outer and her inner parts ; her vast 
 
 Connections', secret springs, and streams unnumber'd, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 201 
 
 Of effects. Presiding deities ! that 
 
 With the mystic wand of learning, govern 
 
 And control the rest of human kind, as 
 
 Great Olympian doth the lesser gods. 
 
 Benefactors, too, of all the race ! who, 
 
 Standing at the fonts of blessedness, 
 
 Them freely open and their treasures yield 
 
 To all the world. Nature's Mechanics ! 
 
 Bringing to use, by combinations strange, 
 
 And process labor'd hard, things in themselves 
 
 Remote, and far from all utility: 
 
 Adorning beauty, grandeur lifting high : 
 
 Now hov'ring round a point by microscope 
 
 Perceiv'd ; now worlded systems "tossing fast 
 
 In sport ; now far retir'd, and lost in 
 
 Nature's deep interior ; now standing forth 
 
 Midst whirling spheres in dread sublimity ; 
 
 Now soaring far abroad ; and now, like some 
 
 Great bird, that 's stood on every shore, and bath'd 
 
 Its wings in every cloud, contemning all, 
 
 That stands on mountain-top in majesty, 
 
 And on itself its eagle gaze implants; 
 
 In proud complacency, upon themselves 
 
 They fix their philosophic ken, and ply 
 
 On Mind their daring energies ; bringing 
 
292 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 To light the source of human passions and 
 
 Of thought, of hopes and fears. They music, too, 
 
 From ev'ry object wak'd ; made Nature lead, 
 
 And all her sons the choir of gladness join, 
 
 As from unnumber'd harps commingling sounds 
 
 Their soft affinities combine ; now each 
 
 And all in grandeur swelling loud ; and then 
 
 Retiring all in tenderness, as if 
 
 From nothing came the notes of softness, still 
 
 Delaying sweet ; while on their symphonies 
 
 Th' unconscious ear of heaven and earth repose. 
 
 Mighty men ! as 'mong your tombs (if spirits 
 Deathless e'er have tombs) and works I stroll, 
 An awe submissive bends me to your feet, 
 While swells my heart with glowing gratitude. 
 Much ye deserve, and much will long receive. 
 Your names upon th' imperishable sky 
 Of Fame engraven stands, nor e'er shall die. 
 Your works are channels bright of gold, along 
 Whose banks the crystal tides of knowledge pure, 
 To millions flow, and shall, till learning here 
 Shall with divine unite in higher worlds. 
 
 But, what to deeds so great the mind excites ? 
 'Tis consciousness within of native strength, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 293 
 
 That, restless when confined, its eagle eye 
 On junctures unobserved and far remote 
 Fixes absorb'd : nor ever yields, till seizing 
 Fast, the lever of new truths it turns, 
 And on the road of glory walks sublime. 
 So mighty Sampson, yields his giant-strength 
 Awhile to Judah's bands, till shouts from sons 
 Of proud Philistia his nerves of steel 
 Awake, as on the plain he heaps on heaps 
 Erects, and raised aloft in conscious pride, 
 Upon their bleeding corpses looks composed. 
 
 Still greatness comes not at once ; but grows like 
 Other things. At first man nothing knew, or 
 Knew but little. The pupil of the Throne, 
 God spread before him all his works, and bid 
 Him search and learn. The powers to know he had, 
 And ardent wish : still, all was novel, all 
 Was strange. Wise the arrangement ; good as wise : 
 The slumbering mind it wak'd, and sent it forth 
 In high pursuit, to search out traces of 
 The Deity. Err it might ; but still its fault 
 It might correct and double pleasure gain. 
 Its faculties by exercise increase ; 
 Its wishes heighten ; and its nature shines 
 25 * 
 
204 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 With greater brilliancy. O'er thinkings 
 Thinkings climb, and man o'er man, and ages 
 On ages rise, till science, like a dome 
 Of hugest size, and lichest ornament, 
 Its pillars plant on every world, and head 
 Complacent to heaven uplifts. Nor less 
 The pleasure. Happiness in action lives ; 
 Especially in virtuous deeds. As swelled 
 The tide of lore, swell'd bliss ; and as he reaped 
 The crops of his own toil, his pay man reaped. 
 His headstrong passions tamed, were misery's nurse 
 And joy's companions. His mind in healthful 
 Exercise, health and vigor spread through all 
 His soul. And more. Each avenue of thought, 
 That new r ly open'd to his view, new channels 
 Dug of bliss, and on him pour'd its tide. 
 Th' universe him blessed, and God approved. 
 Thus happiness with knowledge lay ; and as 
 The mind its powers increased, receptacles 
 For blessedness enlarg'd and multiplied, 
 Till man with angel vied, and long'd on vast 
 Infinity to satisfy his soul. 
 
 Oh ye, whose bliss is gold ! and ye, who prate 
 In idleness your time ! Butterflies 
 
PROVIDENCE. 295 
 
 Of earth, and worms ! how sad ye err ! Oh lift 
 
 Your aim ; your time improve, not talk ; your minds 
 
 Adorn, and not your flesh. Where Wisdom speaks 
 
 Apply, and at her portals steadfast wait, 
 
 Till }^e your statues mete like men. And thou, 
 
 That hoardest treasures for thy child, and leav'st 
 
 His mind to canker with his pelf, a gift 
 
 Of greater weight afford — learning bestow ; 
 
 That blest himself he may thy wretchedness 
 
 Appease, as thou the steep of age declin'st. 
 
 And thou of humble birth, whose ardent soul 
 
 For knowledge thirsts, leave not the noble thought ; 
 
 But long pursue, and hasten where it points. 
 
 Though on thee darkness rests, and all thy limbs 
 
 Are fetter'd fast in poverty, }^et strive. 
 
 A brilliant sun may yet upon thee break ; 
 
 Thy fetters yet may fall ; and thou, Deliv'rer 
 
 Grown, may'st millions lead from prison walls, 
 
 By thee so long contemned. Then nurse the inward 
 
 Flame, and trace its gleamings to the distant 
 
 Place, where prided greatness stands aloft 
 
 And down on meaner things complacent smiles. 
 
 Wide the pursuit for human lore, and strong. 
 The properties of things around at first 
 
296 PROVIDENCE, 
 
 Attention gain ; resemblances are sought, 
 
 And contrasts marked, and special use. Fruits first 
 
 For nourishment, the appetite of man 
 
 Invite, and bid him taste what to the eye 
 
 Seem'd good. The leafy foliage next is pluck'd, 
 
 And round him throws a forest-dress of green. 
 
 The yielding ram whose life for his had now 
 
 In substitution bled, his wintry dress, 
 
 As life to man affords. The forest then 
 
 Its tender saplings yields, and shelter makes 
 
 'Gainst scorching sun, and snowy blasts and rains, 
 
 That long and hard in beating torrents fell. 
 
 Then plants select are sought — their seeds collected, 
 
 Or themselves uplifted from their roots, 
 
 By easy transportation are infixed, 
 
 Where nursed by tender hand they might a crop 
 
 Of rich abundance yield, and grow themselves, 
 
 As on them others feed. A prostrate trunk 
 
 And pole erect, and rocks that obvious lay, 
 
 And now and then a fragment-oar, that hand 
 
 Invisible had thrown across his path, 
 
 Rude instruments of husbandry afford. 
 
 Small the parade, 'tis true ; but few the eyes 
 To gaze, and fewer still aggressors on 
 
PROVIDENCE. 297 
 
 Another's rights. Self-conscious pride and 
 Boasting vanity, that since have made 
 The palace groan with ornaments of show, 
 And e'en the cottage swell its higher friend 
 To imitate, were not then known — nor thief, 
 That pampered easy on his neighbor's toils. 
 
 But still, man rested not with these ; but as 
 
 He roam'd, new sights new thoughts awak'd, and 
 
 New experiments produced. The lands he tilPd 
 
 He meted, and their various shapes did each 
 
 With each compare ; that thus to human want 
 
 And strength might be adapted human toil. 
 
 The casual oar, that from its bed his spade 
 
 Of wood or rocky harrow struck, he seiz'd, 
 
 And on it gaz'd in close inquisitiveness. 
 
 The next he caught, and both he placed in near 
 
 Comparison, and thus their nature, kindred 
 
 Or remote, sought to determine. Their use 
 
 He also tries, and makes a better blade, 
 
 With which to fell his native wilds, and shear 
 
 Of harder cast his lands to break, and pins 
 
 And hooks and spikes, and cooking ware, and things 
 
 Of other name in hard succession fast. 
 
298 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Nor these alone : by angels taught, or taught 
 By birds, he music wakes — The tended string 
 Or hollow reed or molten brass, their sounds 
 To melody emit, and join'd with voice 
 Of man, sweet concert keep, and solitudes 
 Of nature fill with song. The strolling herds 
 That on the mountain-side, or deep-sunk vale, 
 Their grassy food pursued, attentive gaz'd ; 
 And trees, and hills, and floods, and nature all 
 The anthem caught and bore it up to God. 
 
 Numbers too he counted, and the amounts 
 
 By various combinations join'd, or parted 
 
 By deduction, and these again involv'd, 
 
 Or by division separated into 
 
 Equal parts ; he calculations made, 
 
 And far results and intricate defined, 
 
 By data rising from the first by long 
 
 And tedious windings to the last : yet clear ; 
 
 Connected all — all sure — as o'er the steps 
 
 The mind proceeds self-conscious that it stands 
 
 On solid base — till bursting into light 
 
 Of great result, it day -light sees with 
 
 Steadfast eyes, and on its self-created 
 
 Mount of solid truth fast standing high, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 299 
 
 Complacent on the whole, down-looks, and feels 
 Its deep foundations laid on adamant. 
 
 The starry orbs attention gain'd. The sun, 
 
 That day -light brought, and seem'd to bear away, 
 
 Wonder excites, and on his showery 
 
 Brilliancy, fixing the eyes of all, 
 
 Enquiry hard into his nature, end, 
 
 And various course, and obscurations strange, 
 
 Awak'd. The moon, thought visited, and on 
 
 Her nightly track held midnight musings ; and 
 
 At her changes and her mingling dark 
 
 And glistening face admired. The larger and 
 
 The lesser stars were thought upon, and that 
 
 Far off whiteness which belted with its zone 
 
 Of snow the mighty vault. The comet too, 
 
 That seldom visitant, that like a ship 
 
 On flame that heads a storm, its fiery 
 
 Harbinger and long and smoky tail 
 
 Across the heavenly canvass stretch'd ; wonder 
 
 Aroused ; and fearful presage gave of some 
 
 Tremendous fate which now impendent seem'd. 
 
 All these man view'd as satellites of great 
 Or lesser grade to Earth : and as he mus'd 
 
300 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Upon the mighty pageantry of orbs 
 
 That round him hurl'd and seem'd to vie who best 
 
 Should serve, his own importance felt. 
 
 But still philosophy progressed. The stars 
 
 Were counted, named, and group'd in neighborhoods ; 
 
 The dates of revolutions fix'd, cicles 
 
 Appointed, and a map of heaven's face 
 
 Upon Earth's canvass stamp'd. Disorder 
 
 Into order grew, and happy agreement 
 
 Rose between the earth and upper skies. 
 
 Thus, o'er the head of Error Truth looked out, 
 
 And something saw of that which distant lay 
 
 In mighty shade of its antagonist. 
 
 The laws of nature too were scrutinized ; 
 
 The properties of matter sought, and all 
 
 The various hosts of causes and effects 
 
 Examined and arranged. What motion caus'd 
 
 And stopped and governed, what swifter made and what 
 
 More slow, were studied hard — What instruments 
 
 Momentum rais'd, and gave to feeble strength 
 
 Omnipotence — The properties of air, 
 
 Of water and of light, all things around, 
 
 Were canvass'd, and the laws determin'd, which 
 
PROVIDENCE. 301 
 
 All bodies govern'd and them made each others' 
 Servants ; and thus a world of strange, yet sure 
 And wise dependence forrn'd : surviving naught 
 By self: but each in its own place most strong 
 And beautiful, and all connected, safe. 
 
 The juices too of plants were now express'd, 
 And mineral virtues sought ; by which disease 
 Might stop its pace : and he who lay at door 
 Of death, revived, might with athletic limbs 
 And ruddy cheeks and cheerful soul, his toil 
 Resume, and fill his place in life, as one 
 From shadow dismal of the dead called up. 
 
 Language which thought transmits, like air the 
 Solar ray, attention gain'd — its various 
 Laws were sought, its combinations tried ; 
 Analogies and rules were fix'd and words 
 Arrangement got, that might like numerous strings 
 Of mighty instrument, ten thousand waves 
 Of undulating sound emit, of harsh 
 And smooth, and low, and elevated tone, 
 Which might ten thousand changes make in 
 Human minds, and every feeling tune at will, 
 To joy, or wo, to ecstasy, despair. 
 26 
 
302 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Eloquence obtain'd, and Poetry, the 
 
 Soul of thought. Twin-sisters these, and early 
 
 Born, yet fill'd with immortality — 
 
 The ether ial regions of the soul, where long 
 
 It loves to rest when worn by drudgery 
 
 Below — the earthly heaven of mind, where noise 
 
 And rougher things cease to annoy ; and where the 
 
 Pure exalted sunshine of delight, joy 
 
 Awakes that blooms but just below the Throne, 
 
 And sterner thought — philosophy of mind — 
 
 Which laws examines of the human soul, 
 
 The source of knowledge, sensation, consciousness, 
 
 Deep probed ; powers arrang'd ; operations 
 
 Learnt, and products various ; the very seat 
 
 Of being searched, and the ground on which 
 
 Hang right and wrong, heaven and hell examin'd close. 
 
 Thus thought upon the thinker turned, and he 
 
 Who sent his eyes abroad in wide survey, 
 
 Around them twisted, and their gaze upon 
 
 Themselves did fix in nearest scrutiny. 
 
 Skill in buildings, too, awakM. What most 
 Utility, and strength, and looks might serve, 
 Was sought. The lofty tower and pyramid 
 
PROVIDENCE. 30S 
 
 The heavens assault. The temple rises, and 
 Reflects a thousand suns. Immortality 
 Lives upon the dead, and o'er the grave 
 The stately marble still employs the powers 
 Which death beneath had borne away. The city, 
 By its glittering spires and turrets high, 
 The distant eye attracts, and nearer gaze 
 Astounds by majesty of rich parade. 
 
 But chief, from rising youth to grey-hair'd age, 
 
 Theology was studied hard. The king 
 
 Upon the throne, and mantled priest, and sage 
 
 Of myrtle wreath ; the laureled victor and 
 
 The ardent youth, here bent their thoughts. Or right 
 
 Or wrong, illumin'd or obscure, the theme 
 
 Of grandeur still investigation got. 
 
 The musty tomes of ancient years were read ; 
 
 Far distant temples visited, and lands 
 
 Of eldest date : causes mysterious sought ; 
 
 Signs observed ; and all that could the mind 
 
 Direct to knowldge of a God, and ways, 
 
 Attention gain'd. Yet, still, philosophy 
 
 Of groveling birth, with high Theology 
 
 Was mixed, and God with man, and heaven with earth 
 
 Were all confus'd ; as from the mingled mass, 
 
304 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 A strange mythology was form'd, which man 
 Enslaved and God abused. 
 
 All themes, in fine, were touch 'd ; and objects all, 
 
 In heaven or earth, were scrutiniz'd. Creation's 
 
 Stores were canvass'd, and her treasures all 
 
 Sought to be unfolded. With wise man 
 
 Wise man vied, and age with age, who most the 
 
 Work could do, and farthest push the bounds of learning. 
 
 Nimrod's Land, and where the Shemish Elam dwelt, 
 
 Where Mizraim settled, and the isles of Jave : 
 
 And where Latinus reign'd, and Palestine, 
 
 All trophies raised, and aided each by each, 
 
 The work far carried, and the world in part, 
 
 From bands of ignorance redeem'd and sav'd. 
 
 One long dark night of mental slumber past, 
 
 When dread oppression reign'd, and conflict great 
 
 Of all things secretly at war, a pause 
 
 To all things gave, and fell stagnation made 
 
 Of all that 's good — as when ten thousand streams 
 
 Adverse and strong together borne, to ships 
 
 Affording restless ease, as now they dash, 
 
 And now are still ; now leap and now are whirl'd 
 
 Around — This past, and morn of Science dawns ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 305 
 
 Daylight bestreaks the east ; the shades retire ; 
 The clouds wear ruddy cheeks ; the world appears ; 
 And bursts the sun with burning, panting beams, 
 From long kept bed behind the eastern deep. 
 Forth rushes Genius in her new pursuit, 
 And fresh with resurrection-vigor clad, 
 All nature ransacks, and her trophies lifts 
 Where aught is seen, or heard, or thought upon. 
 
 Revelation leads in great reform ; and 
 He who cut the nerves of spiritual 
 Tyranny, the bands unloosed, which all things 
 Fettered, and them captive kept — the doors 
 To all wide open threw, and liberate, 
 Commanded all to think, examine and 
 Report, in dread of naught but violation 
 Of the truth — all nature open'd wide, 
 And lifting o'er the Sun of Righteousness, 
 Did all men tell beneath his beams and smile, 
 Investigate, and from the shades where dwelt 
 Ignorance and error, the truth to bring, 
 And benefits to all the world afford. 
 
 But who can here the trophies count ? or, 
 Clear the princely reign of Genius tell T 
 26 * 
 
806 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Or on this day of glory steady gaze ? 
 
 Who tribute, suited, give philosophers 
 
 Of sainted name and venerable worth ? 
 
 Of him who broke the reign of ancient schools, 
 
 What shall be said ? Or, him who eyes produc'd, 
 
 By which the stars did visits make to earth, 
 
 And round the heads of learned men did bow ? 
 
 Or him who mighty wheels of universe 
 
 Beheld, and revolutions told ? Or him 
 
 Who lever demonstrated, which the whole 
 
 Did turn ? Or him who distance measured, and 
 
 Their size ? Or him who light dissected, 
 
 And its hues of various tinge exhibited ; 
 
 Its laws examined and its wonders told ? 
 
 Of him who mind itself to pieces took, 
 
 And part by part outlaid, the whole machine 
 
 Examined, and its various powers displayed ? 
 
 Of him who thunder-cloud subdued, and took 
 
 From arm of Jupiter his dreaded bolt ? 
 
 What shall be said of him who magnet found, 
 
 And paths through watery waves effected safe ? 
 
 Or him, who using, new worlds found and great ? 
 
 Or him that instruments invented, 
 
 Which thoughts ten thousand might at once express ? 
 
 Of artificers what ? and what of bards ? 
 
 Of statesmen what ? of orators ? of all 
 
PROVIDENCE. 307 
 
 That brilliant host, which each in his own place 
 And age the bounds of knowledge lengthened, 
 And the arts o'er earth diffused ? 
 
 4 
 
 Nor ceases yet the search. Still marches on 
 
 Victorious mind. Old paths are trod again, 
 
 And new ones in the desert made. New thoughts 
 
 Are found, and things, and new connections strange. 
 
 Forbidden fields are canvassed ; limits 
 
 Ultimate are farther pushed ; genius uprais'd, 
 
 Still worships on the pinnacles of ancient thought, 
 
 The deepest depths descend ; contracted ways 
 
 Are wider made ; things small still smaller grow ; 
 
 The large more large. Ignorance escapes on 
 
 Every hand. The earth is belting fast 
 
 With light. From hill to hill 'tis blazing forth, 
 
 And shall, till dull opacity a ball 
 
 Of flame becomes, and earth, which tribute pays 
 
 To central sun, a world shall be, of light. 
 
 Youngest born of nations, America, 
 Wilderness-asylum for the oppressed 
 Of other lands, whose soil and laws baptiz'd 
 With blood of sainted heroes, to the cause of 
 Human good is consecrate — thy time perceive, 
 
308 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And opportunity. Upon the field 
 Of learning haste, and there in brotherhood 
 With Nature's worshippers of every clime, 
 # The paths unknown of Science trace, and at 
 Her temple meekly bend. Leisure thou hast, 
 And mind. The means are near, and all things now 
 In readiness. Thy sisters, joying still 
 In victory, thy march invite, and at 
 Their side a place for thee now designate. 
 And some of thine own sons, long there, that stand 
 On mount of their own raising, and beyond 
 Them far in distant eve of Science see 
 Still other mountains rise, that mystery 
 Of sombre greatness show, untrod by foot 
 Of man, where unknown Nature lives, and all 
 Alone her solitary reign extends, 
 O'er mysteries of momentous size — these all 
 Complacent stretch to thee their anxious arms, 
 And bid thee come. Thy pupils numberless, 
 That still their multitudes increase like leaves 
 Of opening forests to the spring, as near 
 Thy side they stand, and upward to thy face, 
 With childlike meekness look, and on thy lips 
 Submissive hang in anxiousness to learn 
 From thee, as thou from God, the truth ; thy march 
 
PROVIDENCE. 309 
 
 Now stimulate, and bid, like parent wise, 
 Provisions ample for them rising make. 
 Thee Liberty counsels — Liberty, that long 
 In eastern lands has been oppressed, and here 
 Has come to rest from ancient campaign hard, 
 That strengthened, she again the battle field 
 May take, her conquerors conquer, and the soils 
 Where once she reign'd, resume ; and thus, like sun 
 Reversed, may shed her beams from Western wilds 
 To islands bathed in great Pacific's flood, 
 And chains and fetters strike from all the race. 
 Thee thine own fair glory urges, and thee 
 Bids exalt in learning, as in law and 
 Happiness, thy name. Thee all things welcome 
 And command. The world looks out for thee. 
 And spirits sainted long from ancient lands, 
 Philosophers, and bards, and learned men, 
 Look down, and at the place which thou shalt hold 
 Admire, and thee with saintly wooings urge, 
 Thy seat of glory and renown to fill. 
 
 Immortal Land ! I see thee on the march. 
 Thy statue swells ; thine eyes of flame range earth 
 And heaven ; thine arms of giant-size are stretch'd 
 O'er nature's vast dimensions ; and thy feet, 
 
310 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Where only Deity has gone stedfast, 
 
 Are tracing ways of dread acclivity. 
 
 Upon the heart of earth, and base obscure 
 
 Of sea, thou sitt'st and mak'st experiments. 
 
 The poles celestial thou art twisting firm 
 
 Of upper worlds. Upon their mountains stand'st, 
 
 And at thy feet see'st waters roll, and bloom 
 
 Expand on other spheres. On Comet thou 
 
 Art riding fast, as in a chariot race ; 
 
 And widest curve of great Parabola, 
 
 Where none before have been, art circling swift 
 
 With stately ease, as victor sovereign of 
 
 A distant rebel-land. From orb to orb, 
 
 Thou coastest, as seaman adjoining isles. 
 
 The Stars upon thy crown thou bear'st, and sides 
 
 Art belting with the Milky- way. And then, 
 
 Thy sceptre stretch'd o'er all, and all pronounc'd 
 
 Thine own, thou walkest forth, like sentinel, 
 
 Beyond the outposts of creation far, 
 
 In verge of that eternal night which skirts 
 
 The throne of God ; and midnight vig'lance keep'st. 
 
 To see that all is well ; and there to muse 
 
 Alone on majesty of the unknown God ; 
 
 And on thine ear pealing, to hear the songs 
 
 Commingling of ten thousand thousand spheres, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 311 
 
 And angels numberless, that sweet combined, 
 Like lofty thunders harmonized, music 
 Emit that Nature agitates, and vault 
 Of highest Heaven shakes. 
 
 Oh would, that down the Muse's prophecy, 
 
 O'er path illumin'd by unnumbered suns, 
 
 Where thou, my Country, glorious art to pass — 
 
 Oh would, that none I saw with genius blest, 
 
 And fame, whose souls, self-conscious of their strength. 
 
 And cov'tous of worship, as down they gaze 
 
 On all below, should feel themselves uprais'd 
 
 Above their God ! Oh would that none I saw, 
 
 On Revelation standing fast, and on 
 
 Its page of love, and blood, and truth divine, 
 
 Trampling profane — the arm of strength given 
 
 Of God 'gainst its Maker turning ; and mind, 
 
 That seem'd but borrowed lamp from Deity, 
 
 Its origin denying ! Oh would, that none 
 
 Of all that brilliant host of names, that rise 
 
 Like pageantry of distant stars — oh would, 
 
 That none I saw, like Lucifer, morning's 
 
 Burning eye — from lofty glory hurled, 
 
 To quench their glowing beams in outer night ! 
 
312 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 But, Genius, thou art not always good. 
 
 For oft, too oft, has nature, visible 
 
 And felt, as thou hast studied hard thy task, 
 
 Upon thee thrown unseen, unknown to thee, 
 
 A shade which Deity eclips'd, and scenes 
 
 More worth that those thou tread'st, has from thee roll'd 
 
 In misty distance off, and from thee hid 
 
 Thy Maker, whose footsteps thou wast tracing ; 
 
 Whose Wisdom filPd thy mind with wrong ascrib'd 
 
 Astonishment, and at whose Power, from Him 
 
 Dissever'd, thou hast often bow'd in prayer, 
 
 And at whose Goodness prais'd. Thy Creator 
 
 Thou hast lost in finding out his works ; 
 
 And Him whose presence with thee goes, and love 
 
 Before thee spreads his treasures forth in rich 
 
 Abundance ; and Spirit fills thy soul with life ; 
 
 And o'er thee breathes the glist'ning wave of fame — 
 
 Him thou seest, hear'st, know'st not, nor ownest ; 
 
 But rebel (can'I use a softer name?) 
 
 Against his throne, the weighty instruments, 
 
 To thee entrusted, thou hast turn'd against 
 
 Thy God, and fought him madly with his gifts ! 
 
 How oft do ancient ages tell, and times 
 
 Of modern date, of misspent mind ! How oft 
 
PROVIDENCE. 313 
 
 Has goodness wept at greatness' path, and tried 
 With tears of tenderness her first-born to 
 Reclaim ! Yet tried, and wept, and sought in vain ! 
 And still to keener weepings sank, and almost 
 Died, as on herself she saw her favor'd child — 
 Caress'd in youth, reverenc'd when adult — 
 Upon herself his burning eyeballs turn, 
 And arms ungrateful place, as fire of death 
 Stream'd furious from his deeply madden'd heart ! 
 
 Then, o'er my Country, o'er my Sphere, again 
 One prayer more I heave ; as standing here, 
 I down the future see mind immortal 
 Putting on immortal strength, and feats 
 Achieving, which raise on angels' heads 
 The hair — to Heaven I raise this prayer, and here 
 Record — ' Great Creator, sanctify, oh 
 Sanctify, and to thyself in chains 
 Eternal bind the daring spirits, yet 
 To b' born, who shall the work of science, and 
 Her last great trophies raise, all things canvass. 
 Old Aged Time with Great Eternity 
 Unite, and man at changing, with his God.' 
 Heard this prayer — I o'er the future smile, 
 And dying wish the long expected day. 
 27 
 
BOOS VII. 
 
 DIVINE SOVEREIGNTY OVER HUMAN GOVERNMENTS; TO- 
 GETHER WITH REMARKS ON GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Harp, so hurriedly borne by careless hand 
 Amid the toils of serious life, and which 
 Like tender friend a leisure moment steal, 
 To soothe with gentle sounds a spirit broke 
 By arduous weight of other things — thee now 
 I welcome and thy loosen'd strings attempt 
 Once more to modulate. Thine aid impart, 
 Nor thine alone I ask — but His, who in 
 The desert-bush the Midian shepherd calPd, 
 And him endued with wisdom and with law, 
 O'er Israel's hosts with justice to preside, 
 And each his duty teach and sure reward. 
 Me too instruct Heavenly visitant — 
 Gabriel, Michael or the Lord himself — 
 My lips teach utterance and my heart 
 
316 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 With clear perception of the truth endow ; 
 That I, untaught beside and timid of 
 Myself, may yet with boldness walk among 
 The great ; the work of government survey ; 
 Accountability to rulers teach ; 
 Obedience to the ruled, and all subject 
 To Him who sits supreme and nations into 
 Being speaks or crushes at his will. 
 
 Not chance — necessity gave birth to 
 
 Civil rule, or God, who that necessity 
 
 Constrained — Instincts yield to impulse — Reason? 
 
 Needs a law. What tho' but one had liv'd ? 
 
 E'en he o'er self had rais'd authority : 
 
 Principles had fix'd which might 'twixt right 
 
 And wrong decide ; and thus instruct him when 
 
 Himself t' approve, and when to reprobate — 
 
 Government rises from the need of man ; 
 
 His nature claims it as her birthright ; 
 
 And his opening eye, at early dawn of 
 
 Being, when first the light was seen, look'd out, 
 
 And sought its shelter 'gainst opposing harm. 
 
 •Much more society however small 
 Demands restrictions — Different rights are 
 
PROVIDENCE. 317 
 
 Constituted, interests jeopardized : 
 
 Adverse or accordant, equal or 
 
 Superior, yet distinct ; each clothed with 
 
 Its own weight of duty and advantage, 
 
 Each seeking its own as well as neighbor's good. 
 
 But what shall arbitrate between, if law 
 
 Be absent — law that balances with just 
 
 And steadfast hands, contested moats or crowns ; 
 
 His rights the monarch and the peasant gives. 
 
 Yes ! men confederate by two or thousands 
 Still require stern rules to keep them in 
 Harmonious separation, as spaces 
 Lines of parallel direction — Without, 
 They amalgamate, injure, contend and 
 Waste each other's blood. Bodies united 
 Lose not identity — nor man tho' join'd 
 With millions of his fellow men — Each 
 His own place keeps and self sustains amid 
 The crowd. Him to maintain in safety then, 
 His union and identity must be 
 Preserved — Harm'd the first, he is oppressed ; 
 O'er-magnified the latter he oppresses. 
 To shun them both, her office, law, with arm 
 Of iron must discharge and standing close 
 27 * 
 
318 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Like angel watch-man must the whole and each 
 Survey, and all preserve in its own place. 
 
 Oh who can tell how much of ill hath come 
 
 From not protecting human rights by law ! 
 
 Whence the contests of the early world, but hence ? 
 
 Whence half the mighty wars which thrones have made 
 
 But islands in a sea of blood ? Whence feuds 
 
 Of neighbors, partners, families, husbands, 
 
 Wives ? Whence half the strifes of earth ? Whence all 
 
 This wretchedness but from the want of rules, 
 
 Enacted plain, certain, fix'd, which might 
 
 At once the right and claim of each assert, 
 
 And all their duty teach ? But oft when confidence 
 
 Misplaced, has laid aside the friendly use 
 
 Of laws, and left uncertain what should e'er 
 
 Be fix'd, has jealousy crept in, and blind 
 
 Self-love and hate, and made a scene which might, 
 
 Beneath good rule, have smiled like Eden's vales, 
 
 A hell itself become ; as brothers once, 
 
 Are 'gainst each other turned, and hearty strive 
 
 To eat each others' rights, and name and blood. 
 
 How oft — ye records of the past reveal — 
 
 How oft have untraced boundaries, booty 
 
 Undivided, or a blank in legal 
 
PROVIDENCE. 319 
 
 Instrument, or the mode unnam'd, of what 
 
 The Constitution ordains to be done — 
 
 How oft have things like these, nations wasted 
 
 Long with civil broils, and dreadful wars ! 
 
 How oft have unrecorded deeds th 5 estate 
 
 That toiling industry erected for the 
 
 Daily bread of widow and her orphans, 
 
 Swept away and borne to lighted barns, where 
 
 Gouty wealth walks grunting round his heaps ! 
 
 All these declare the nature and the use 
 
 Of law. It teaches men mankind to be ; 
 
 Of tigers maketh sheep — of lions lambs ; 
 
 Disorder it arrange th, and of light 
 
 The beams on darkness pours ; paths in deserts 
 
 Forms, and highways in the wilderness ; 
 
 Encompasseth the race, and yet sustains 
 
 The individuality of each ; 
 
 All unites, yet none confounds, but gives 
 
 To each his place, his sphere, his rights, himself, 
 
 And the whole and every part supports by 
 
 Balances that no attraction know, save 
 
 Justice ; no object, but the gen'ral good. 
 
 Away, away, ye sordid, rebel crowd, 
 
 Who, when the laws seem slow, seek to hasten 
 
320 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Justice by becoming yourselves unjust ; 
 
 Or who, when laws oppress, the remedy apply 
 
 In absence of all law — as if 
 
 Destruction were the cure for threatened wo ; 
 
 Or who, oppress'd by Justice' easy sway, 
 
 Since wickedness your souls distend with vast 
 
 Obnoxiousness to exercise of law, 
 
 Seek the subversion of all rule, that ye 
 
 May have a holiday of crime — all, all 
 
 Of you are enemies to human weal. 
 
 Ye seek to let loose monsters that winged angels 
 
 Could not stop, and which could ne'er sate their thirst 
 
 For gore, till every heart the nation owns, 
 
 Had been by them devoured. Then haste away 
 
 From outlet dang'rous of such hideous things. 
 
 Ungovernable spirits help to restrain ; 
 
 Especially yourselves be quiet under laws 
 
 Which truth and duty call you to obey. 
 
 Still, laws to be natural must be right. 
 
 Judicious parent, Nature, wisely cares 
 
 For all her sons. Though some have more, others 
 
 Less, yet all their due proportion share. 
 
 Here to interfere by partial statutes, 
 
 And the wealth of one confer upon his friend, 
 
 Were to pervert the end of government, 
 
PROVIDENCE, 321 
 
 And that to harm which nature left secure. 
 
 Shall patient toil its courted product see 
 
 Estranged to feed the appetite of want 
 
 That would not work in harvest time ? Or shall 
 
 The crums of beggars go to make the loaves 
 
 The rich man eats ? Or, shall the widow's pearl, 
 
 Because she has but one, (and that one dear) 
 
 Be wrested off to glare congenial in 
 
 The monarch's crown ? Such shocks all nature. 
 
 She justice measures not by making all 
 
 Of equal size ; and far less, by giving 
 
 Every size to one. Her harmony is 
 
 General, diffus'd ; but what is more, is just. 
 
 But if laws from nature spring, rulers too. 
 These are the counterparts of those — the life 
 Of what in dead enactments rests without. 
 Himself, his neighbor, or the man he never saw, 
 Yet some one must the statute personate — 
 The rule to actions ply — the balances 
 Uphold and objects weigh — the line of right 
 Bear out, and show what lies on either side. 
 Without executives, laws are but paths 
 In deserts never traced by travelers foot — 
 Ships at sea with not a being in them — 
 
322 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Or visionary the'ries of the brain, 
 
 Which blanks fill up, but not the need of man. 
 
 But who the rulers Nature justly owns ? 
 
 All who have filPd the seats of law, and dealt 
 
 To fellow men the dues of government. 
 
 Bastards one half she names, not sons. Rulers 
 
 She designed to be but justice, truth and right 
 
 Personified — the living evidences 
 
 Of righteous laws — exact correspondents 
 
 Of her own self — supplying human wants — 
 
 And meeting each demand of human good — 
 
 Frowning on the bad, the good upholding, 
 
 And to each his due ascribing firm. 
 
 Such the governors Nature meant should rule 
 
 Their fellow men, and her own laws uphold. 
 
 But oft, how very oft, have laws the best, 
 
 Become oppressive by false exercise ! 
 
 Now weakness faints beneath their high demands, 
 
 As infant strength beneath a Himmelah. 
 
 Now ignorance errs as blind man from the path ; 
 
 Now wantonness sports as if with things profane ; 
 
 Now cruelty uses, as red hot bars 
 
 With which to burn and curse its victims hard ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 323 
 
 Prodigality now employs, as arm 
 
 Across the land to pick up every piece 
 
 Of ore that lies along its way and place, 
 
 Where greatness lifts its head above the gaze 
 
 Of vulgar eye ; Ambition stretches now 
 
 To magnify the state to vast desires 
 
 Of him whom chance or fate hath made 
 
 The helmsman of affairs ; and now a thing 
 
 Of worthless name falls from his lofty post, 
 
 As midnight sentinel asleep, and all 
 
 Things leaves shift for themselves or run to wo. 
 
 Yet worse as oft when laws are wrong as well 
 As men. Then two oppressions live instead 
 Of one, whose twin dominion the reign of 
 Death establishes and fills the land with blood. 
 
 But who the laws shall make and execute ? 
 
 Oft disputed point and seldom settled 
 
 Save by force. Governments for most have been 
 
 What skilful heroes, base conspirators 
 
 Or general course of things that dig themselves 
 
 As rivers channels deep and hard to move, 
 
 Have made them — the motley products of a 
 
 Thousand motley chances. Reason seldom 
 
324 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Has enter'd first and mark'd with careful step 
 The outline and the parts of civil rule. 
 Her work is last — And then she often comes, 
 Like criminal in chains compelled by force 
 To ratify what well she knows is wrong. 
 
 But are there then no rules of government ? 
 Must chance or fate or any cause, the race 
 Of human beings toss about in shapes 
 Contingent, moulding as they chance to fall 
 Together, as winds the waves of ocean. 
 
 Two principles include the whole, and give 
 To civil rule its proper excellence — 
 Embrac'd, applied, they rectify the wrong 
 Of ages, balance rulers and the ruled — 
 Give strength to government — Liberty on 
 Adamant establishes and the result 
 Of civil rule, a nation's weal secure. 
 
 Laws, all Laws are for the people made, 
 
 And rulers too. This the creed of Liberty, 
 
 All beside is tyranny, oppression. 
 
 This is the Rock, fair Land, America, 
 
 On which thy rights are based — nor shall it change 
 
PROVIDENCE. 325 
 
 Till sunk in sea of blood, which every heart 
 By freeman own'd supplies. We live or die 
 With this. And here in sight of nations take 
 Our final stand, their envy braving firm, 
 Yet kindly wooing to the same Great Rock. 
 
 In the Patriarchal tent Nature kindly 
 Ordained pre-judged authority for babes, 
 As fore-made clothing for the little lambs. 
 Ignorance by knowledge thus was met, 
 And childlike weakness by a parent's strength. 
 But even here oppression had its foe, 
 And wielded force its needed equipoise — 
 A parent's power was balanced by a 
 Parent's love. His heart and arm were held 
 In ballance just on steady base ; 
 Nor could one a blow inflict th' other 
 Did not think descending on itself. 
 
 Beyond this embryo-state there 's no such guard ; 
 And for a natural one a civil 
 Must be substituted. A check must be. 
 And one that 's equal to the powers possessed. 
 Without, no State is safe from tyranny. 
 But what restraint so just as that which makes 
 28 
 
PROVIDENC*. 
 
 The laws and those who execute a Nation's right! 
 Laws are made for all, not one ; and should 
 For all be exercised. They are the rules 
 The People agree to be govern'd by ; 
 And those administering, their agents. 
 Laws are but the people's will, and Rulers 
 Themselves their own volitions executing. 
 Admit it, and you have a balance which 
 Nor tyrants nor insurgents can dissever. 
 Rulers are the People's selves commissioned — 
 They will respect. And these the Ruler's selves 
 In private life. They must regard all ; all 
 Are brothers in one family — combin'd, 
 Yet separate : dependent, yet most free. 
 Nor works it ill. Rulers balance the ruled — 
 The ruled, rulers. The lever 's firm and propt 
 On right of representation common 
 Alike to all, will keep a nation safe 
 And blest while honesty and virtue live. 
 
 Witness the truth, thou Star-banner'd Land, whose 
 Sunny hills, crystal streams and woodlands wild, 
 And waving fields and happy multitudes 
 Have dwelt so long and sweet beneath the smile 
 Of Liberty. Say, United Sisters, say, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 327 
 
 Are they not blest who Rulers hold, and Laws, 
 In their own hands ? What tyrant dares on this, 
 Our happy soil to tread ? A thousand spears 
 Would pierce his heart at once, and twice ten 
 Thousand hands would hurl him to the dust. 
 His name would be accursed, and very corpse 
 Be exiled from the soil where freedom dwells. 
 Or who will dare 'gainst lawful rule to rise ? 
 A million arms will seize the Sov'reign's, and i 
 His muscles make vigorous to execute 
 The laws which carry right in their own face. 
 
 What monarch is not jealous of his rights ? 
 The People here are Sovereign, and they are 
 Jealous too. Nor will they let their liberties 
 Be lost, till they themselves are lost. Hear it 
 Tyrant ! Thou must dig a grave of vast 
 Capacity, and every freeman there 
 Entomb, before thou conquer Liberty. 
 If one escape, he'll find thy heart, and at 
 An unexpected hour will lay thee low. 
 The Government here is all alive ; 
 The people are themselves the King ; their throne. 
 The soil they tread ; their palace the cloudless sky, 
 And earth of green which Nature gave ; their 
 
328 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Cabinet the public mind ; resources, 
 All that freemen own ; and power, every nerve 
 In every arm. The Nation 's one ; its life 
 Is one ; and if it die, it wants one grave. 
 
 But are not Governments accountable ? 
 Stand they aloof from sceptre of Supreme, 
 In their self-existence independent ? 
 Or, are they held in firmer grasp, as orbs 
 Of larger size by stronger attraction ? 
 
 Man is amenable to God. The one 
 Admits the truth and in his conscience 
 Feels it. But are the many then exempt ? 
 A drop is water — so, is the ocean. 
 Unit 's a number — so are ten millions. — 
 What one is, the multitude are no less. 
 
 Nor this alone — accountability 
 Accumulates. Let Nations judge themselves. 
 Are not corporations govern'd by laws 
 More fix'd and close than rules the citizen ? 
 Are not Sovereigns held by reins, 
 More strong than passes over private life ? 
 And why ? More power is given. Restraint 
 
PROVIDENCE. 329 
 
 Must equal yielded strength. TV privileged 
 Pay the larger tax — populous supply 
 Greater drafts of soldiers — And nations God 
 Charters with sterner hand than private men. 
 
 The evidence supply, ye epitaphs 
 Of ages gone. Antideluvia, 
 Thou earliest of sovereignties, from thy 
 Sea-wash'd ruins, report the truth. And thou, 
 Fair Sodoma, that once so reflected 
 The light of morn ; but now that liest low 
 Beneath Asphaltites. Proud Egypt, tell 
 Whose heart of stone the Eternal humbled, 
 Babylon, whose wall, nor brazen gates, 
 Nor worshipp'd stream, thy treasures kept secure ; 
 Sea-fortress'd Tyre, whose pride and stubbornness 
 Were crucified ; Persia, that fell beneath 
 The Macedon ; Sepulchre of the great, 
 Immortal Greece — earth's glory once, but now 
 Her shame ; Eternal Rome, that smitten stands 
 Venerable ruins ; Jerusalem, 
 The land of God and holiness — so rich, 
 But now so poor ; Testify, sepulchred 
 Nations, that ye fell, not worn out by age, 
 But perish'd of your crimes, which grown mature 
 28 * 
 
S30 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 At middle life, brought on your heads the curse, 
 a The wicked shall live out but half their days." 
 
 Give testimony, Modern times. Fair Gaul, 
 Where light and darkness mix, how met thy sins ! 
 How spared thy virtue ! Rebel, thou hast felt 
 The hand that crushes pride. Thy own rich soil, 
 How oft has Heaven wash'd in thine own blood ! 
 Yet, ever great, thou still art spared — spared 
 To arbitrate some great event — spared 
 To be thyself and more — Immortal France. 
 
 Child of Saxon kings, unrival'd England, 
 
 Colossus of empires, 'twixt oppression 
 
 And oppressing liberty — zenith-light 
 
 Of happy Europe — America's Young Sun — 
 
 My father's land — our modern Israel 
 
 And Greece and Rome in one — come, proclaim to 
 
 A world, Does not the Lord Jehovah reign ? 
 
 Rais'd from a savage isle to be the first 
 
 Of lands, (for I must sing thy righteous due) 
 
 Struggling, yet victorious ; dismember'd, 
 
 Yet in thy fragments scatt'ring balls of flame ; 
 
 With thy virtue seeding the earth ; holding 
 
 The lever-place of Kingdoms ; thine Isle 
 
PROVIDENCE, 331 
 
 A throne ; Earth's waters but thy courtyard. 
 
 Noble, gen'rous, wise and Christian England, 
 
 Thou hast ever been the child of God, 
 
 Yet oft a chasten'd child. Thou too hast sinn'd ; 
 
 Nor hast thou been forgot. Philosophy, 
 
 Nor piety have shielded thee. Thy soil 
 
 Has drunk fraternal blood, and plague 
 
 And death have taught thee still thy frailty. 
 
 Bear witness too, America, whose young 
 
 Virtue makes thee still Heaven's Benjamin ; 
 
 The best-belov'd, if not maturest yet 
 
 Of lands. Thy path through sea and desert wilds 
 
 Was led by one Omnipotent. Thy soil 
 
 Distributed by God. Thy sister tribes,' 
 
 As Jews, thirteen, was group'd mid savages 
 
 In one — one life in thirteen, and thirteen 
 
 Lives in one, multiplicity, unity ! 
 
 Heaven fought thy battles ; gave thee victory ; 
 
 Has increased thy tribes ; is still thy God ; 
 
 Has made thee noblest child of noblest land ; 
 
 A young daughter, yet her parent's rival ! 
 
 And art thou not accountable ? Thou art : 
 
 And be it forever thy pride to own* 
 
832 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Yes, Nations, ye are all accountable. 
 Union here is strength. And power combin'd 
 But swells responsibility. O'er you 
 It is that heaven watches with an eye 
 That scrutinizes hearts, and never errs. 
 Ye are the masses that make up the race ; 
 Our human globe, our living continents. 
 Your virtues enlighten heaven ; your vices 
 Darken down to hell. Your reward 's noble ; 
 Your punishment the whole creation shakes. 
 
 Accountable ! then why indulge in sin ? 
 
 Especially, why sin without restraint ? 
 
 Say why, ye Rulers as ye meet, thus raise 
 
 The flag of wickedness, and to its lure 
 
 Attract the vagrant vile : a nation's shame ? 
 
 Why congregate around the place of law 
 
 And righteous rule, the enemies of both ? 
 
 Why join yourselves in scenes that would a blush 
 
 On cheek of sin itself excite ? Children 
 
 At forty, why your Capitol 
 
 Forsake as boys to seek a holiday ? 
 
 Is this becoming men, and great men too ? 
 
 Did thus your pattern, God, while giving law 
 
 From Horeb, debase the foot of Majesty 
 
PROVIDENCE. 333 
 
 By congregated sin beneath his eye ? 
 Did thus th' Athenian or the Spartan teach ? 
 Or, such the rules of our Great Washington ? 
 Your legal thunderbolts should prostrate crime, 
 At least around yourselves, and one spot keep 
 Of virtue tall above the rest. Then Law 
 Would shine in light, and Legislators walk, 
 As Angels on the mount of Sovereign Rule. 
 
 Commonwealth of Oglethorpe, here stand rebuk'd : 
 Not all — but some. Your noon-day sins have gone 
 Throughout the Land — by Virtus wept, but hail'd 
 By vice. Your eclipses, partial or complete, 
 Take away a country's light. All feel it — 
 Youthful ardor ye have inflam'd to crime : 
 Young virtue kill'd — and fast-maturing vice 
 Have fatten'd for destruction : Mothers 
 And wives and distant babes (here memory 
 Drops a tear of blood) have fill'd with mourning, 
 As ye, our guides, our Legal Patterns, the 
 Representatives of law, th 5 People's selves 
 In others, our nation's heart, have patroniz'd 
 The death of virtue and the ruin of th' State 
 Around the Capitol of Legislation. 
 Repent : let past calamities drive back 
 
S34 PBOVlDEIfCB. 
 
 Your madden'd course : Be pure yourselves, and let 
 The Nation feel your living purity. 
 
 But though in power, ye are yourselves beneath. 
 The People are the Sovereign. Majesty 
 Of blood-stain'd soils : Immortal Freemen, wake : 
 This moral tyranny throw off : break th' yoke : 
 And free abroad, much more, be free at home. 
 Turn out your worthless servants : chose others 
 That more befit your honor : exalt the 
 Noble, pure, and great ; and teach the World 
 That Liberty is good, as well as free. 
 
BOOK VIII. 
 
 THE WORLD IS CONTEMPLATED PROSPECTIVELY AND 
 THE GENERAL JUDGMENT DESCRIBED. 
 
 But one strain more, my Harp, and then farewell ; 
 
 We part to meet where all must give account. 
 
 I sing the Judgment. Thy gravest tones supply, 
 
 And earthly music make harmonious with 
 
 Eternity. And thou that spread'st before 
 
 The One Beloved the Throne of white, and showM 
 
 The opening books and destinies of all, 
 
 Me too exalt to clear perception 
 
 Of the day entombing fore'er the rest. 
 
 May I see it, and seeing may I tell 
 
 Aright, that all may credit and be savM. 
 
 Mid Science changing, Government and Grace, 
 Men hurried, still ever hurried onward. 
 Childhood was met, and youth, and age, and past ; 
 
336 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Eternity met and enter'd, and still 
 
 Ever enter'd by rivaling millions. 
 
 The doors 'twixt death and life were open'd 
 
 Night and day. This side weepers prest upon 
 
 The wall ; other angels officiated. 
 
 Th' road on either side by long and constant 
 
 Travel had now been beaten hard and smooth. 
 
 Mortals were weary, and angels too, of 
 
 Death's oppressive bier : tears of joy and pain 
 
 Had mingled till their fountains had run dry. 
 
 Eternity was filPd with souls, Death of 
 
 Bodies, and the world of living men. 
 
 End of the Creation had been answer'd ; 
 
 Decrees of God fulfill 'd ; Providence seal'd ; 
 
 Book of human history finish'd ; and all 
 
 Things now look'd upward for the Great Result : 
 
 Creator's comment on th' Creator's plan ; 
 
 Revelation of the past Mystery, 
 
 The final will of God and doom of man. 
 
 'Tis coming — a noise like distant thunder 
 
 Falls upon the ear. It increases fast : 
 
 Other spheres seem hurrying to pay Earth 
 
 A visit. 'Tis louder yet ; Creation 
 
 Shakes. A light ! a light ! Fades the sun away ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 337 
 
 AH other suns are surely hastening here. 
 
 Louder the roar, brighter still the light ; 
 
 'Tis sure creation's festal day, or day 
 
 Of doom. A sight appears ; it hastens on, 
 
 And now fills the sky. Sun and moon and stars 
 
 Are swept away. A multitude are seen. 
 
 Great and bright each spirit. Still thousands, 
 
 Thousands pour — thousands, thousands yet behind 
 
 Come on. A throne among them — swells its size ; 
 
 'Tis bright as purity, yet more glorious : 
 
 And on it — ah ! the King, the Lord of Hosts. 
 
 He 's come — the Judge, the Eternal Judge, has come. 
 
 A blast, a universal blast of trumpets — 
 
 One louder sound continuing — " Come ye 
 
 Nations, quickened, dead, patriarchal or 
 
 Just born ; sovereigns, subjects, wise, rude, good 
 
 Or bad — come all to hear your final doom." 
 
 Earth 's alive. Death is immortality. 
 Th' entomb'd are up, and stand immortal on 
 The earth — itself now made immortal too. 
 Pauses the Throne above, and its vast host. 
 Around — that only eyes of spirit could 
 Behold — the multitudes on multitudes 
 Collect. Each his place assumes, self-prompted 
 29 
 
338 PROVIDENCE, 
 
 By inward attraction. No confusion — 
 Solemn order all. One short breath of silence — 
 And what a breath ! Silence here has tongue 
 Louder than roar of fast-descending Throne. 
 The Universe seem'd pressing on each heart. 
 Palely anxious every cheek, and each eye 
 Is fix'd upon the Judge, to hear with awe, 
 The sentence pass'd on him of life or death. 
 
 There, too, stood Satan — first-fallen sinner — 
 
 And his hosts of lower potentates, 
 
 Belligerent, now in chains — the Tempters 
 
 Mid the tempted, guarded by Seraphim 
 
 Of the strongest arm. Awful his aspect : 
 
 He seem'd as volcanic mountain lab'ring, 
 
 That now had lost its strength by oft discharge 
 
 Of fiery lava, and that now itself 
 
 Stood smitten by a thousand thunderbolts. 
 
 Preeminent in the long ranks of sin, 
 
 He rose, as master captive on the day 
 
 Of trial, sullen yet, still unsubdued, 
 
 Though vanquished by the Eternal's arm. 
 
 Around him the infernal warriors, 
 
 That darkly rose, like mountains seen at night. 
 
 There they stood — the Hosts of Hell — at judgment 
 
 Of the Great Day, undone — to hear their doom. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 339 
 
 Behind the Throne, and now on either side, 
 The Seraphim arose in succession 
 Endless, like fiery Andes — th' battlements 
 Of the Eternal's presence, and the guard 
 Of righteous government — spirits of love 
 And strength to execute prepared the will 
 Of God. Mid these superior, and now 
 Before the Eternal Throne, chief officer 
 Of general martial day, stands Gabriel. 
 White his raiment, and his countenance shone 
 Like sun. Heaven's dignity sat on him, 
 And his brow betoken 'd serious care. 
 Upon the Enthron'd, swift-wing'd, he waited, 
 In his Judgment dress. Him the Eternal call'd, 
 And bid, the Chart of Human Life unfold, 
 And Book of Actions to exhibit. 
 ,r fis done ; and from a place not to be told, 
 Fell down the Universal Chart of Earth. 
 Its top, the Law of God, in letters wrote, 
 Of flame, on either side that rested on 
 Statutes drawn of Truth and Holiness — 
 As brilliant rainbow, on two mountain-tops. 
 Beneath, Heaven's History kept of human life. 
 Earth's shape, and size, and true condition there. 
 Ages, generations, families, men ; 
 
340 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Error, truth, sin, piety ; ignorance, guilt ; 
 
 Devotion, profanity ; hatred, love ; 
 
 Charity, selfishness ; faith, and unbelief; 
 
 Man, each man, and all of man, there stood 
 
 Depicted, by the finger errorless 
 
 Of God. Not a man omitted ; not a 
 
 Virtue undescrib'd ; not a vice undrawn. 
 
 There shone the whole of human life, by scales 
 
 Adjusted, that gave to each act its due. 
 
 Brilliant in light, and flaming through the air r 
 
 There hung the Chart of Final Judgment Day. 
 
 Suspending on its face, the life and end, 
 
 Character and doom of th' paraded hosts. 
 
 Before the archangel plac'd a. table 
 
 Of pure gold ; and on its glittering face, 
 
 A volume diamond-cover'd, that glow'd 
 
 Just coming from the Eternal's hand — 
 
 Gen'ral Register this of all the names 
 
 And lives of men — plain comment on the Chart. 
 
 Two-book'd that held in separation 
 
 The good and bad, the pious and profane. 
 
 This the "Book of Life," that of "Outer Death." 
 
 And then beside, Heaven's Solicitor, 
 
 Prime Minister of the Eternal Throne — 
 
 The Archangel stood in majesty of 
 
PROVIDENCE. 341 
 
 Greatness, with golden wand in hand, if needs, 
 Interpreter to be of all to men. 
 
 Speaks the Eternal — and as he spoke, Nature 
 
 Bow'd, Earth shook ; " seven thunders utter'd the voice,** 
 
 And the Embattling Seraphim shouted aloud — 
 
 He spake composed : " Children of Time, Adam's 
 
 Offspring, each limb of human life, now hear. 
 
 There shines your history, intricate or plain, 
 
 Virtuous or abandon'd, just or faithless, 
 
 Good or bad. There are the lines that mark 
 
 The path of each through life. Eternal Truth 
 
 Has there the picture drawn, Eternal Power 
 
 And Justice means to execute. There read 
 
 Yourselves, and there your final doom now learn. 5 * 
 
 A pause ensues — hearts almost cease to beat — 
 The crisis now — a step is Heaven or Hell. 
 They move — a band more daring than the rest 
 Precede — hurried still onward by false hope, 
 That yet encourag'd them presumptuous. They gaze — 
 They read — they are undeceiv'd ; fades the rose 
 On cheek, and brilliancy of eye is pale ; 
 Strength faints ; hope dies, as inward consciousness 
 Of truth which on the canvass stood divine, 
 29 * 
 
342 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Them debarr'd fore'er from place in Paradise. 
 Commanded on the left they stand, self-doom'd 
 To die, themselves accusing of their fate. 
 
 Others succeed, more cautiously, as if 
 In dread of ill result. One group before 
 The rest — humility their dress, and sense 
 Of ill-desert their aspect — came meekly up, 
 And on the Chart of Life saw virtuous deeds, 
 And in the Book their name among the just. 
 Calmly triumphant, their cheeks grow lovely, 
 And themselves enkindle into Seraphim. 
 They on the right stand fair in purity, 
 Their consciences consenting to the truth, 
 By wisdom Divine exhibited, and 
 Their hearts approving still each virtuous act, 
 And for each fault still clinging pen'tently 
 To blood of rich atonement, and their whole 
 Salvation still ascribing to Free Grace. 
 
 Others come, and still others yet. They meet — - 
 They part fore'er. Lives the highway to the 
 Awful chart, and lives the road to right and left. 
 Endless the multitude, yet brief the test — 
 'Twas only to look and be convicted. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 343 
 
 Truth on the chart reviv'd the truth within 
 
 By easy suggestion ; life answer'd life: 
 
 No error ; naught confus'd ; all conspicuous ; 
 
 Crimes committed long, and long forgot, here 
 
 Started into life, as on the day first born. 
 
 The murd'rer's wrath burn'd o'er ; and thief again 
 
 His villainy felt rekindled. The good 
 
 His pious deeds here saw reviv'd, and felt 
 
 At once the happy recollection. 
 
 Alms, prayers, penitence, faith, humility, 
 
 All sprang to life as if that moment done. 
 
 'Twas so with all. The heart was open'd by 
 
 Each look. Its labyrinths of sin exposed, 
 
 Or mysteries of virtue developed. 
 
 The whole was seen as in the light of God. 
 
 Questions that long through time had challeng'd 
 
 Hard debate, were here as plain as axioms. 
 
 Sovereignty, free-agency, nature, grace, 
 
 Depravity, holiness, all stood here 
 
 Harmonious in manifest distinction, 
 
 As difF'rent yet parallel lines. Motives, 
 
 Too, and acts — the judgment, passions, and the will 
 
 Accordant or adverse in doing ; the 
 
 Circumstances that heighten or detract 
 
 From sin or virtue ; every thing that could 
 
344 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Direct or but remotely bear on acts 
 
 Of man, all, all flash'd upon him, as if 
 
 By miraculous intuition. 
 
 Who look'd saw all : stood convicted without 
 
 Argument, and felt his fate steal o'er him. 
 
 Dreadful, glorious the results ! Awful 
 
 The disclosures ! The confident fell back 
 
 Hopeless ; the boastfull fell down despairing. 
 
 The man who through all life had ne'er a fear, 
 
 But mock'd at fear of others, calling it 
 
 Timidity, or lack of grace, or hard 
 
 Temptation falling to the lot of few, 
 
 Saw here the souls he wept accepted, and 
 
 Himself cast off, undone. The despondent 
 
 Good here found the demonstration of grace ; 
 
 Saw their mourned names in Book of Life, and 
 
 Earthly pilgrimages approved by God. 
 
 Many that fear'd and wept through time, because 
 
 So little gracious, found virtuous riches here 
 
 As hidden store preserv'd 'gainst trial day. 
 
 Many faithful were now confirm'd in hope ; 
 
 Saw all they wish'd fulfilled, and more, much more. 
 
 Expecting, read a virtuous history, 
 
 And saw their names inscrib'd in Book of Life. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 345 
 
 Some were permitted to gaze longer than 
 
 Others — conspicuous in time, to keep 
 
 A while conspicuous in Eternity. 
 
 The hero one : his track of blood, clouded 
 
 Fore'er by pestilential breath of mad 
 
 Ambition, illustrious by burning 
 
 Nations, and disgraced by ceaseless cry of 
 
 Wretchedness, there stood indented deep on 
 
 Face of Chart, with Heaven's reprobation 
 
 On it. His selfish heart, blood-thirsty, here 
 
 Its filthiness exhibited ; designs 
 
 Hidden were disclos'd ; motives were reveaPd ; 
 
 Hopes fears and thoughts express'd — himself out-laid. 
 
 Effects of his mad course were here pourtray'd : 
 
 Butchery, blood, mangled hearts, streaming tears, 
 
 Widows, orphans, poverty, wretchedness, 
 
 Immorality, sin, universal ruin ; 
 
 All mark'd his course, desolation spreading, 
 
 Out-liv'd him, enter'd other shapes, himself 
 
 On earth as in Eternity immortal. 
 
 In spirit, acts, example, influence, 
 
 Others exciting and huzzaing still to field 
 
 Of battle smoking yet with blood not cooPd. 
 
 Yes, Hero hera saw the hero's history 
 
 Drawn by finger of eternal love and 
 
346 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Purity ; he on it gaz'd, felt mean, 
 Blush'd asham'd, fell back in agony, and 
 Almost willing sunk to Hell, that one so 
 Fam'd on earth should be so vile in Heaven. 
 
 TV Impostor next, Mahammed 'specially — 
 
 Eyes brighten'd e'en at Judgment-day to see 
 
 The obscure yet immortal Arab tried — 
 
 Gabriel without, he now stood * two cubits ' 
 
 From his destiny. No Eternal One 
 
 His hand upon his first born head now lays ; 
 
 No pearls, nor diamonds, veils of beauty, 
 
 Nor Moslem creed on heavenly gate inscrib'd ; 
 
 No weeping Moses at superior Priest, 
 
 Nor Patriarchs now, nor Christ himself out-stript ; 
 
 His Mesra now is naught, and naught his Moon 
 
 Divided ; naught his battles, honors, fame ; 
 
 And naught his Tomb and abject worshippers. 
 
 He stands the apostate Arab, hugest 
 
 Of sinners, and meets his doom powerless — 
 
 With countenance half-dark, half-illum'd 
 
 Yet with glory, and knee reluctant still 
 
 To be adjudg'd by one inferior ; 
 
 He stood half-fallen to read the lines that drew 
 
 Th' Impostor's picture. He read and backward 
 
 Falling shun'd his own fame and curs'd himself. 
 
PROVIDENCE* 347 
 
 Persecutor next. Trampling on Goodness 
 When in power, now goodness faces him 
 And his own history. Assassin'd Saints 
 That still the marks of faithfulness possess'd 
 As their best ornaments, saw now their foe, 
 In life fear'd, bewept in death, forgiven — 
 Saw him now his destiny encounter. 
 With malice yet still lightening through despair 
 He comes with weighty ket to meet his doom- 
 He gazes, Heaven still delays his look. 
 Innocence murder'd, purity in blood, 
 In tears beauty, weakness in agony, 
 The Apostle slain in the Apostle's garb — 
 Priestly robes besmear'd with Priestly blood — 
 Altar divine stain'd, Holy of Holies 
 Outrag'd. The Eternal mock'd, yea, the Judge 
 Himself once crucified ! all, all, surprise him ; 
 As his froze statue falls like Dagon broke. 
 
 Unbeliever now — Notable on Earth 
 
 For sin, 'specially his favorite sin, 
 
 Disbelief of Revelation. Among 
 
 The judg'd none more astonish'd look'd than he. 
 
 It seem'd he dreamt or walk'd in madness ; 
 
 Yet fearful reality, awful, near, 
 
348 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Palpable, prest him e'er on ev'ry hand. 
 Philosophy and pride forsake him now. 
 He sees, he knows the truth, knows his folly, 
 Confess'd, despair'd, and looking, fell undone. 
 
 Rich Miser next, cousin to Solomon, 
 
 Akin to Croesus, but brother yet of 
 
 Achan ; gouty yet, and still oppress'd 
 
 By gold, he stood and read his destiny. 
 
 Canker'd ore he saw mid starving plenty, 
 
 Saw widows weeping from his selfish doors, 
 
 The poor uncloth'd, fatherless unblest, 
 
 The church unalms'd, the world irnpoverish'd : 
 
 By such idle devourer of its w T ealth, 
 
 His name a blank, his wealth a stagnant pool, 
 
 His children orphan'd, his heirs ungrateful, 
 
 And himself, his neighbors odious by- word. 
 
 All he saw, and wish'd that gold had ne'er been, 
 
 Or he, felt poor, and bow'd him to his fate. 
 
 Numerous good were also favor'd with 
 Longer gaze and greater not'riety, 
 Pre-evident of higher rank in Heaven. 
 First, Patriarch Band, and Band of Prophets, 
 Adam, Abraham, Isaiah, Daniel, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 349 
 
 Venerable men, earth's best, together 
 
 Now approach. Smil'd angels as they come ; 
 
 SrmTd the Judge, smil'd themselves and ev'ry saint : 
 
 And smil'd the Roll of destiny. Hand in hand 
 
 With sainted look familiar here they read, 
 
 A history angels might have envied. 
 
 Saw their virtues own'd, their faults forgiven, 
 
 Themselves chief blessing of the human race — 
 
 Trees of Life in garden of divine love. 
 
 Parent-trees o'erhanging posterity, 
 
 Rich in good fruit that fill'd and fed the earth : 
 
 Dignified peace their end — Heaven their reward. 
 
 Next Apostles ; younger, yet more active. 
 Banded Seraphs, bearing on sainted flesh 
 The marks of their obedience. Calm in 
 Aspect, and with countenances that did 
 The glory, image of the Judge, smiling, 
 They read eternal life confirm'd and truth 
 They propagated, seal'd at Judgment-day. 
 Mid these, prominent Paul ; not in stature, 
 For he was least, but in the soul of virtue, 
 That now matur'd, him made solitary 
 Great at Judgment-bar as in deeds of time; 
 Nobler spirit fac'd not the Chart than he. 
 30 
 
350 PBOVIDBNC*. 
 
 Looking, he saw thousand thousands rescued 
 From death by his instrumentality. 
 Luminous his track, and thousands blest him. 
 Christianized nations, heathen once, offer'd 
 To him a diadem rich set with stars ; 
 Accepting, he threw 't at the Judge's feet, 
 And then himself chief trophy call'd of grace* 
 But yet, o'erpower'd with ecstasy, he cast 
 A look towards heaven, that might have made 
 E'en darkness smile with light. His seat was high. 
 
 Martyrs, Reformers, Missionaries, all 
 
 Were now conspicuous. Conspicuous, too, 
 
 Each faithful Herald of the Cross. These all 
 
 Shar'd largely in patriarchal honor, 
 
 And glory of Apostlos. Great blessing 
 
 These of later times, after-builders on 
 
 The Temple made by Grace. Each saw on Chart 
 
 Fair actions and a holy life ; read the 
 
 Approval of the Judge, and felt in his 
 
 Own soul the witness of eternal life. 
 
 Righteous Rulers, too, were here distinguished. 
 Brightest mid these, unsullied Washington. 
 No statesman, patriot, sovereign, on that day, 
 
PROVIDENCE. 381 
 
 Higher than he. His charted track was large, 
 And fair as large : by rational freedom 
 Luminous and luminous with virtue. 
 Reading he saw a Nation rais'd by him — 
 Righteously rais'd, and rais'd to righteousness ; 
 No common people ; Religion's legacy 
 To a needing world ; earth's great lever in 
 The cause of universal good to all ; 
 Mantled with purity, th' hero, statesmen, 
 There saw the land he sav'd grown up beneath 
 His virtuous shade, and ripening for the skies. 
 Read, earth enrich'd by him ; electrical 
 His name with good ; himself a pattern bright : 
 Saw Moses and Joshua unite in 
 His own character, and his living virtue 
 Bulwark made 'round all that 's free or good. 
 High his seat. Not distant from the Patriarchs. 
 
 Christian Benefactor, too, here shone bright. 
 Not he who gives, destitute of grace ; or 
 He who centres all on self. It was the 
 Gracious liberal, the divinely kind, 
 Who gave, and gave but to communicate ; 
 Lov'd to give, because his giving roll'd 
 The tide of bliss to suffering hearts — such 
 
352 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Almoners of Heaven's bounty Heaven 
 Own'd, and made them stand among the honor'd 
 On the Day of Great Investigation. 
 
 One more. Humblest of men — Zion's mourner* 
 
 He stood conspicuous — not as the rest. 
 
 Omnipotence alone could make him face 
 
 The Chart, or turn the fearful page. Confus'd, 
 
 His mind even yet seem'd not to have gain'd 
 
 Its balance. Still he doubted ; doubted 'fore 
 
 The certainty of life eternal. 
 
 Him only, Gabriel aided. His fear, 
 
 That seem'd like cloudy veil o'er goodness, 
 
 The archangel saw, and saw the remedy. 
 
 Going to his relief, the seraph trac'd 
 
 With golden wand, his life and marks of grace. 
 
 The pearl'd book handled himself, and in it 
 
 Show'd his name. He wak'd, as from delirious dream, 
 
 And was amaz'd to find himself in Heaven. 
 
 Meantime th' Judgment onward, still onward goes. 
 Still crowd, still ever crowd the chart the judg'd. 
 Together they press ; asunder they part : 
 Diminishes the multitude : swells the right 
 And left ; hard decision which outnumbers. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 353 
 
 Onward still the reck'ning ; onward still 
 
 Despair or rapture, wretchedness or bliss. 
 
 Mingle shouts and wailings ; mingle despair 
 
 And hope ; mingle, but ever part, the good 
 
 And bad. Such partings ! parents, children, friends, 
 
 Married hearts ! Break, heartstrings, break forever. 
 
 Sympathy wept not beyond the fate of each. 
 
 Heaven then or hell ; union no more but with 
 
 Good or ill, eternal life or death. 
 
 Yet hard, O hard to part, to part fore'er 
 
 With those once lov'd. Yet part they did ; parted 
 
 All ; not one remain'd unjudged or forgot. 
 
 Fast melted the multitude away, as 
 
 Ocean hurrying to make one of two seas. 
 
 And O what seas ! A host now stands on 
 
 Either side, which seraph nor man can count. 
 
 Innumerous, and innumerous lost or sav'd. 
 
 Past now the test and fate of each ; past the 
 
 Judgment divine — consent of ev'ry heart ; 
 
 Past the universal separation. 
 
 Rolls now together the Chart, Gabriel, 
 
 And it and Diamond-Book now placing in 
 
 The ark of Heaven, lock'd them both up, and key 
 
 Of gold down by his side immense he hung. 
 
854 PROYIDENCB. 
 
 Then placing all in centre of the Throne, 
 Trusted to keeping of th' Eternal One, 
 And retiring, left the key in his own hands. 
 
 Shout now the tow'ring seraphim, as leads 
 
 Th' Archangel, " Thou art righteous, thou alone 
 
 Art righteous, Sovereign Son of God. Thy right 
 
 Thoujiast maintain'd o'er all the earth, and reigned. 
 
 Fathful and true thy ways thou King of Saints. 
 
 Thy Throne is righteousness ; its foundations 
 
 Are laid in truth, and love and purity. 
 
 Let heaven and earth be fill'd with thy glory." 
 
 High chorus sang the sav'd : " And let our hearts 
 
 Be fill'd with his grace ; our immortal tongues 
 
 Praise him ; and praise him louder yet. He hath 
 
 Redeem'd us from all iniquity, and 
 
 Hath made us kings and priests forevermore. 
 
 To God and the Lamb, halleluyah, amen — 
 
 Halleluyah, Jesus our Saviour reigns, 
 
 And shall reign forever and ever, amen." 
 
 Rises now the Judge, and thus announces : 
 " Children of Time, on right and left, now hear. 
 'Twas by my power that ye have life ; I made 
 And I sustain'd ye all. My government 
 
raovi»ENCE. 355 
 
 I o'er you plac'd in easy sovereignty ; 
 
 Duty made plain, and light, and only blest ; 
 
 Announc'd my mind in full Revelation ; 
 
 Commanded obedience ; offer'd life. 
 
 Yet ye rebel'd. All in one, and each in 
 
 His own time threw off my righteous government. 
 
 But I spar'd — spared and became your victim. 
 
 These hands still bear the marks of dying love. 
 
 I died for you — died by you ; was offer'd 
 
 To you as atonement complete for sin. 
 
 Grace ye accepted, spurn 'd just as ye see : 
 
 Who accepted, liv'd ; spurn'd, but justly dies ; 
 
 Dies, oft choosing death ; dies of his own hands ; 
 
 Dies 'gainst the calls of Mercy ; dies despite 
 
 Of offer'd grace, and dies still choosing death, 
 
 Resolv'd in heart still to be rebellious. 
 
 Yet he accepting but accepts by grace, 
 
 Was constrain'd by love, destitute of which 
 
 His sins had still been tyrants over him, 
 
 He stands in virtue, but that virtue stands 
 
 In grace. No boasting here, complaining there. 
 
 Ye have your dues — one by sin ; other, grace ; 
 
 One himself must blame ; other, God adore. 
 
 Come, then, ye blessed, inherit the kingdom 
 
356 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Pepar'd for you of grace and holiness : 
 And ye accursed, depart to outer night." 
 
 He said, and down ten thousand fathoms deep, 
 
 And thousands, thousands more, the Devil fell, 
 
 And his vast hosts. Opens now the wide gate 
 
 Of heaven, as the ascending Throne Divine, 
 
 Ser'phim, and Saints, with songs of thunder- tone, 
 
 And sweet, triumphant entrance make : " Praise, praise 
 
 The Lord, ye Heaven of heavens, and all his works. 
 
 Praise him, New Jerusalem ; loud praise him 
 
 Holy Altar ; praise him, River of life ; 
 
 Praise him, ye strong Seraphim : praise him loud, 
 
 New-redeem'd saints ; praise him all and each 
 
 Together. Let all things still praise the Lord. 
 
 He 's great, and good, and merciful ; then praise, 
 
 Forever praise and bless his Holy Name." 
 
 So sang they on, and at his Throne in heaven 
 
 Fell down, and still forever sang his praise. 
 
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