With sharpen'd eyes inspect an hornet's sting,
And all the wonders of an insect's wing
Some trace with curious search the hidden cause,
Of Nature's changes, and her various laws; t
Untwist her beautious web, disrobe her charms,
And hunt her to her elemental forms :
Or prove what hidden powers in herbs are found
To quench disease, and cool the burning wound;
With cordial drops the fainting head sustain, [pain
Call back the the fitting soul, and still the throbs of
The patriot passion this shall strongly feel,
Ardent, and glowing with undaunted zeal;
With lips of fire shall plead his country's cause,
And vindicate the majesty of laws.
This, cloath'd with Britain's thunder, spread alarms
Thro' the wide earth, and shake the pole with arms.
That to the sounding lyre his deeds rehearse,
Enshrine his name in some immortal verse,
To lang posterity his praise consign,
And pay a life of hardships by a line.
While others, consecrate to higher aims,
Whose hallow'd bosoms glow with purer flames,
Love in their hearts, persuasion on their tongue,
With words of peace shall charm the list ning throng,
Draw the dread veil that wraps th' eternal throne,
And launch our souls into the bright unknown.
MRS. BARBAULE
O THOU, the nymph with placid eye!
O seldom I uni, yet ever nigh!",
Receive my temperate vow.
Not all the storms that sh ke the pole
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul,
And smooth, unalter'd brow.
O come, in simplest vest array'd,
With all thy sober cheer display'd,
To bless my longing sight
Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace,
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,
And chaste subdued delight.
No more by varying passions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet
To find thy hermit cell
Where in some pure and equal sky
Beneath thy soft indulgent eye
The modest virtues dwell.
Simplicity in Attic vest,
And Innocence with candid breast,
And clear undaunted eye;
And Hope, who points to distant years,
Fair opening through this vale of tears
A vista to the sky.
There Health, through whose calm bospm glide
The temp'rate joys in even tide,
That rarely ebb or flow ;
And Patience there, thy sister meek,
Presents her mild, unvarying cheek
To meet the offer'd blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian sage,
A tyrant master's wanton rage,
With settled smiles to meet :
Inur'd to toil and bitter bread,
He bow'd his meek submitted head,
And kiss'd thy sainted feet.
But thou, oh Nymph! retir'd and
In what brown hamlet dost thou joy
To tell thy tender tale?
The lowliest chidren of the ground,
Moss rose and vi'let blossom round,
And lilly of the vale.
O say what soft propitious hour
I best may choose, to hail thy pow'r,
And court thy gentle sway
When Autumn, friendly to the muse,
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And shed thy milder day.
When Eve, her dewy star beneath
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,
And every storm is laid;
If such an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy soothing voice
Low whisp'ring through the shade.
MRS, BARBAVED,
THOU, to whom the world unknowns.
With all its shad'wy shapes is shown;
Who seest appall'd th' unreal scene
While Fancy lifts the veil between ;-
Ah Fear! ah frantic Fear !
I see, I see thee near.
I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye!
Like thee I start, like thee disorder'd fly;
For lo, what monsters in thy train appear !
Danger, whose limbs of giant mould
What mortal eye can fix'd behold?
Who stalks his round, a hideous form,
Howling amidst the midnight storm,
Or throws him on the ridgy steep
Of some loose hanging rock to sleep;
And with him thousand phantoms join'd,
Who prompt to deeds accurs'd the mind:
And those, the fiends, who, near allied,.
O'er Nature's wounds and wrecks pręside;
While Vengeance, in the lurid air,
Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare;
On whom that rav'ning brood of Fate,
Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait:
Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see,
And look not madly wild, like thee?
Thou who such weary lengths hast past,
Where wilt thou rest, mad Nymph, at last?
Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell,
Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell?
Or in some hollow'd seat,
Gainst which the big wave, beat,
Hear drowning seamen's cries in tempests brought, Dark power, with shud'dring meek submitted Thought?
Be mine, to read the visions old,
Which thy awak'ning bards have told,
And, lest thou meet my blasted view,
Hold each strange tale devoutly true;
Ne'er be I found, by thee o'er-aw'd,
In that thrice-hallow'd eve abroad,
When ghosts, as cottage maids believe,
The pebbled beds permitted leave,
And goblins haunt from fire or fen,
Or mine, or flood, the walks of men ↑
O thou whose spirit most possest
The sacred seat of Shakspeare's breast !
By all that from thy prophet broke,
In thy divine emotions spoke;
Hither again thy tury deal,
Teach me but once like him to feel;
His cypress wreath my meed decree,
And I, oh Fear! will dwell with thee
SAY, will no white-rob'd Son of Light,
Swift darting from his heav'nly height,
Here deign to take his hallow'd stand;
Here wave his amber locks; unfold
His pinions cloth'd with downy gold;
Here smiling stretch his tutelary wand ?
And you, ye hosts of Saints; for ye have known
Each dreary path in Life's perplexing maze,
Though now ye circle yon eternal throne,
With harpings high of inexpressive praise,
Will not your train descend in radiant state,
To break with Mercy's beam this gath'ring cloud of
Fate?
'Tis silence all. No Son of Light
Darts swiftly from his heav'nly height;
No train of radiant Saints descend.
Mortals, in vain ye hope to find,
If guilt, if fraud has stain'd your mind, "Or Saint to hear, or Angel to defend."
SO TRUTH proclaims. I hear the sacred sound Burst from the centre of her burning throne: Where aye she sits with star wreath'd lustre crown'd.
A bright Sun clasps her adamantine zone.
So TRUTH proclaims: her awful voice I hear: With many a solemn pause it slowly meets my ear.
"Attend ye Sons of Men; attend, and say,
"Does not enough of my refulgent ray
"Break through the veil of your mortality?
"Say, does not reason in this form descry
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