Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub

§188. Confcience. YOUNG. CONSCIENCE, what art thou? Thou tremendous pow'r!

Who doft inhabit us without our leave;
And art within ourtelves, another felf;
A maiter-felf, that loves to domineer,
And treat the monarch frankly as the flave.
How doft thou light a torch to diftant deeds!
Make the paft prefent, and the future frown!
How ever and anon awake the foul,

As with a peal of thunder, to ftrange horrors,
In this long reftlefs dream, which idcots hug;
Nay, wife men flatter with the name of life!

189. Lije. YOUNG.

-LIFE fpeeds away From point to point, tho' feeming to ftand still. The cunning fugitive is fwift by fiealth: Too fubtile is the movement to be seen ; Yet foon man's hour is up, and we are gone. Warnings point out our danger; gnomons, time: As thefe are ufelefs when the fun is fet, So thofe but when more glorious Reafon fhines. Reaton thould judge in all; in reafon's eye, That fedentary fhadow travels hard. But fuch our gravitation to the wrong, So prone our hearts to whilper what we wish, 'Tis later with the wife than he's aware: A Wilmington goes flower than the fun : And all mankind mistake their time of day, Ev'n age itfelf. Fresh hopes are hourly fown In furrow'd brows. To gentle life's defcent We fhut our eyes, and think it is a plain. We take fair days in winter for the fpring, And turn our blethings into bane. Since oft Min must compute that age he cannot feel, He fearce believes he's older for his years. Thus, at life's lateit eve, we keep in frore One difappointment fure, to crown the rest, The disappointment of a promis'd hour.

$ 190. Bifs. YOUNG.

MUCH is talk'd of blifs; it is the art Of fuch as have the world in their poffeffion, To give it a good name, that fools may envy : For envy to fmall minds is flattery.

How many lift the head, look gay, and fimile, Against their confciences! And this we know; Yet, knowing, difbelieve; and try again [tion: What we have tried, and ftruggle with convicFach new experience gives the former credit, And reverend grey threefore is but a voucher, That thirty told is true.

§ 191. Friendship. YOUNG.. K Now it thou, Lorenzo, what a friend contains Asb.es mixt nectar draw from fragrant flow'rs, So men, from Friendhip, Witdom and Delight; Tuins tied by nature, if they part they die. Haft thou no friend to fet thy inind ab oach, [air. Good fenfe will stagnate. Thoughts fhut up,want

And fpoil, like bales unopen'd to the fun. Had thought been all, iweet fpeech had been denied ; [terion too! Speech, thought's canal! fpeech, thought's criThought in the mine may come forth gold or

drofs;

When coin'd in words, we know its real worth.
If fterling, fore it for thy future ufe;
'Twili buy thee benefit, perhaps renown.
Thought too, deliver'd, is the more poileft;
Teaching we learn, and giving we retain
The births of intellect, when dumb forgot.
Speech ventilates our intellectual fire;
Speech burnishes our meatal magazine,
Brightens for ornament, and whets for ufe.
What numbers, fheath'd in erudition, lie
Plung'd to the hilts in venerable tomes,
And rufted in; who might have borne an edge,
And play'd a fprightly beam, it born to speech;
If bon bleft heirs of half their mother's tongue!
'Tis thought's exchange, which, like th'alternate
puth

Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned fcum,
And defecates the student's ftanding pool.

$192. Wijlom, Friendship, Jy, and Happiness.

YOUNG..

WISDOM, tho' richer than Peruvian mines,
And fweeter than the fweet ambrofial hive,
What is the but the means of Happiness!
That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool;
A melancholy fool without her bells.
Friendthip, the means of wifdom, richly gives
The precious end which makes our wifdom wife.
Nature, in zeal for human amity,
Denies or damps an undivided joy.
Joy is an import; joy is an exchange;
Joys flies monopolifts: it calls for Two;
Rich fruit! Heaven-planted' never pluck'd by One.
Needful auxiliars are our friends, to give
To focial man true relish of himself.
Full on ourselves defcending in a line,
Pleafure's bright beam is feeble in delight;
Delight intenfe is taken by rebound;
Reverberated pleatures fire the breaft.

Celeftial Happines, whene'er the ftoops
To vifit carth, one thrine the goddefs finds,
And one alone, to make her fwect amends
For abfent heaven--the bofom of a friend;
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other's pillow to repofe divine.
Beware the counterfeit: In paffion's flame
Hearts melt, but melt like ice, feon haider froze."
True love itrikes rect in Reafon, paflion's foe;
Virtue alone entenders us for life:

I wrong her much-entenders us for ever.
Of Friendship's faireft fruits, the fruit moft fair
Is Virtue kindling at a rival fire,
And emoloufly rapid in her race.

the fofr enmity endearing ftrife! This carries friendship to her noontide point, And gives the rivet of eternity. [themes, From Friendthip, which outlives my former 14 Glorious

*Lord Wilmington.

Glorious furvivor of old Time and Death! [feeds, | Receive the bleffing, and adore the chance

From Friendship thus, that flow'r of heavenly
The wife extract earth's most Hyblean blifs,
Superior wisdom, crown'd with fmiling joy.
But for whom bloffoms this Elyfian flow'r?
Abroad they find, who cherish it at home.
Lorenzo, pardon what my love extorts,
An honeft love, and not afraid to frown.
Tho' choice of foilies faften on the great,
None clings more obftinate, than fancy fond
That facred friendship is their easy prey ;
Caught by the wafture of a golden lure,
Or fafcination of a high-born fmile. [out
Their fmiles the Great, and the Coquette, throw
For others hearts, tenacious of their own;
And we no lefs of ours, when fuch the bait.
Ye fortune's cofferers! Ye pow`rs of wealth!
Can gold gain friendship? Impudence of hope!
As well mere man an angel might beget.
Love, and Love only, is the loan for love.
Lorenzo, pride reprefs; nor hope to find
A friend, but what has found a friend in thee.
All like the purchase, few the price will pay;
And this makes friends fuch miracles below.

§ 193. Friendship. YOUNG.
DELIBERATE on all things with thy friend:
But fince friends grow not thick on ev'ry
Nor ev'ry friend unrotten at the core; [bough,
Firft on thy friend delib'rate with thyself;
Paufe, ponder, fift; not eager in the choice,
Nor jealous of the chofen; fixing, fix;
Judge before friendship, then confide till death.
Well for thy friend, but nobler far for thee.
How gallant danger for earth's highest prize!
A friend is worth all hazards we can run.
"Poor is the friendiefs mafter of the world:
"A world in purchase for a friend is gain."
O for the bright complexion, cordial warmth,
And elevating fpirit, of a friend,
For twenty fuminers ripening by my fide;
All feculence of falfehood long thrown down;
All focial virtues rifing in his foul,
As cryftal clear, and finiling as they rife!
Here nectar flows; it fparkles in our fight;
Rich to the tafte, and genuine from the heart.
High-flavour'd blifs for gods! on earth how rare!

194. Happiness. YOUNG. THRICE happy they who fleep in humble life,

Beneath the ftorm ambition blows. 'Tis meet
The Great should have the fame of happiness,
The confolation of a little envy ;

'Tis all their pay for thofe fuperior cares,
Thole of heart, their vaffals ne'er can feel.

pangs

[blocks in formation]

That threw in this Bethesda your disease;
If unreftor'd by this, defpair your cure.
For here refiftlefs demonftration dwells;
A death-bed's a detecter of the heart.
Here tir'd diffimulation drops her mafque,
Thro' life's grimace, that miftrefs of the fcene!
Here real and apparent are the fame.

You fee the man; you fee his hold on heaven,
If found his virtue, as Philander's found. [friends
Heaven waits not the laft moment; owns her
On this fide death; and points them out to men,
A lecture filent, but of fov'reign pow'r!
To vice, confufion; and to virtue, peace.

Whatever farce the boaftful hero plays,
Virtue alone has majefty in death;
And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns.

§ 196. Love. YOUNG.

OVE calls for love. Not all the pride of

Lov

beauty;

Thofe eyes that tell us what the fun is made of;
Thofe lips whofe touch is to be bought with life!
Thofe hills of driven fnow, which feen are felt:
All thefe poffeft are nought, but as they are
The proof, the fubftance, of an inward paffion,
And the rich plunder of a taken heart.

runs mad,

$197. Pleafures of Meditation. YOUNG.
FROM Dreams, where thought in fancy's maze
To Reafon, that heaven-lighted lamp in man,
Once more I wake; and at the deftin'd hour,
Punctual as lovers to the moment fworn,
I keep my affignation with my woe.

O loft to virtue, loft to manly thought,
Loft to the noble fallies of the foul!
Who think it folitude to be alone.
Communion fweet! communion large and high!
Our Reafon, Guardian Angel, and our God!
Then nearest thefe, when others most remote;
And all, ere long, fhall be remote but these.
How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone,
A ftranger! unacknowledg'd! unapprov'd'
Now woo them; wed them; bind them to thy
To win thy with, creation has no more: [breast,
Or if we with a fourth, it is a friend-
But friends how mortal dang'rous the defire!

[ocr errors]

§ 198. Beauty. YOUNG. BEAUTY alone is but of little worth;

But when the foul and body of a piece'
Both shine alike, then they obtain a price,
And are a fit reward for gallant actions.

$199. Paffions. YOUNG.
WHEN Reafon, like the skilful charioteer,
Can break the fiery paffions to the bit,
And, fpite of their licentious fallies, keep
The radiant track of glory; paflions then
Are aids and ornaments. Triumphant Reason,

Firm in her feat, and fwift in her career, Enjoys their violence; and, fmiling, thanks Their formidable flame for high renown.

200. Pilure of Narciffa, Defcription of her Funeral, and a Reflect on upon Man. YOUNG. SWEET harmonift! and beautiful as fweet!

And young as beautiful! and foft as young! And gay as foft! and innocent as gay! And happy (if aught happy here) as good! For fortune tond had built her neft on high. Like birds quite exquifite of note and plume, Transfix'd by fate (who loves a lofty mark) How from the fummit of the grove the fell, And left it unharmonious! All its charms Extinguish'd in the wonders of her fong! Her fong ftill vibrates in my ravish'd ear, Still melting there, and with voluptuous pain (0 to forget her!) thrilling thro' my heart! Song, Beauty, Youth, Love, Virtue, Joy! this Of bright ideas, flow'rs of paradife, As yet unforfeit! in one blaze we bind, Kneel, and prefent it to the ikies; as all We guefs of heaven, and thefe were all her own. And he was mine; and I was-was!-moft Gay title of the deepest mifery! [bleft

[group

As bodies grow more pond'rous robb'd of life,
Good loft weighs more in grief than gain'd in joy.
Like bleflom d trees o'erturn'd by vernal storm,
Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay;
And if in death still lovely, lovelier there;
Far lovelier! pity fwells the tide of love.
And will not the fevere excufe a figh?
Scorn the proud man that is afham'd to weep;
Our tears indulg'd indeed deserve our fhame.
Ye that e'er loft an angel pity me.

Soon as the luftre languifh'd in her eye,
Dawning a diramer day on human fight;
And on her cheek, the refidence of spring,
Pale omen fat, and scatter'd fears around
On all that faw (and who would ceafe to gaze
That once had feen)—with hafte, parental hafte,
I fiew, I fnatch d her from the rigid north,
Her native bed, on which bleak Borcas blew,
And bore her nearer to the fun; the fun
(As if the fun could envy) check'd his beam,
Denied his wonted fuccour; nor with more
Regret beheld her drooping, than the bells
Of lilics; faireft lilies, not to fair!.

Queen lilies! and ye painted populace Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrofial lives; In morn and ev`ning dew your beauties bathe, And drink the fun; which gives your cheeks to And out-blush (mine excepted) every fair; [glow, You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand, Which often cropt your odours, incenfe meet To thought fo pure! Ye lovely fugitives! Coeval race with man! for man you fimile; Why not fimile at him too? You hare indeed His fudden pafs, but not his conftant pain.

So man is made, nought minifters delight, But what his glowing pathons can engage; And glowing paffions, bent on aught below, Muft foon or late with anguifh turn the fcale,

And anguish, after rapture, how fevere !
Rapture Boldman who tempts the wrath divine,
By plucking fruit denied to mortal tafte,
While here prefuming on the rights of Heaven.
For transport doft thou call on ev'ry hour,
Lorenzo At thy friend's expence be wife;
Lean not on earth, 'twill pierce thee to the heart;
A broken reed at beft, but oft a spear;
On its fharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires.
Turn, hopeless thoughts! turn from her :--
thought repeil'd

Refenting rallies, and wakes ev'ry woe.
Snatch'd ere thy prime, and in thy bridal hour!
And when kind fortune, with thy lover, fmil'd !
And when high flavour'd thy freth op'ning joys!
And when blind man pronounc'd thy blils com-

plete 1

And on a foreign fhore, where strangers wept!
Strangers to thee; and, more furprifing ftill,
Strangers to kindnefs wept: their eyes let fall
Inhuman tears; ftrange tears! that trickled down
From marble hearts! o durate tenderness!
A tenderne's that call'd them more fevere;
In fpite of nature's foft perfuafion, fteci'd;
While nature melted, fuperftition rav`d;
That mourn'd the dead, and this denied a grave.

Their fighs incens'd, fighs foreign to the will!
Their will the tiger fuck'd, outrag'd the ftorm.
For, oh! the curs'd ungodliness of zeal !
While finful flesh relented, fpirit nurs’d
In blind infallibility's embrace,
The fainted fpirit petrified the breast:
Denied the charity of duft, to fpread
O'er duft! a charity their dogs enjoy.
What could I do? what fuccour? what refource?
With pious facrilege a grave I stole,
With impious piety that grave I wrong'd;
Short in my duty, coward in my grief!
More like her murderer than friend, I crept
With foft fufpended step, and muffled deep
In midnight dark nefs whifper'd my laft figh.
I whisper'd what fhould echo thro' their realms;
Nor writ her name whose tomb should pierce the

ikies.

Prefumptuous fear! How durft I dread her foes,
While nature's loudeft dictates I obey'd?
Pardon neceffity, bleft fhade! Of grief
And indignation rival burfts I pour'd;
Half execration mingled with my pray'r;
Kindled at man, while I his God ador'd;
Sore grudg'd the favage land her facred duft;
Stamp'd the curs'd foil; and with humanity
(Denied Narciila) wifh'd them all a grave.

Glows my refentment into guilt? What guilt
Can equal violations of the dead?
The dead how facred! Sacred is the duft
Of this heaven-labour'd form, erect, divine;
This heaven-affum'd majeftic robe of earth
He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast expanse
With azure bright, and cloth'd the fun in gold.
When ev'ry pallion fleeps that can offend;
When ftrikes us ev'ry motive that can melt;
When man can wreak his rancour uncontroul'd,
That ftrengeft curb on infult and ill-will;
Then fpleen to duft? the duft of innocence?

An angel's duft-This Lucifer tranfcends: When he contended for the patriarch's bones, 'Twas not the ftrife of malice, but of pride; The ftrife of pontiff pride, not pontiff gall.

Far lefs than this is thocking, in a race Moft wretched but from ftreams of mutual love; And uncrcated, but for love divine; And, but for love divine, this moment loft, By fate reforb'd, and funk in endless night. Man hard of heart to man! of horrid things Moft horrid! 'Mid ftupendous, highly ftrange! Yet oft his courtefies are fmoother wrongs; Pride brandishes the favours He confers, And contumelious his humanity:

What then his vengeance? Hear it not, ye ftars! And thou, pale moon! turn paler at the found;

Man is to man the foreft, fureft ill.

A previous blaft foretels the rifing ftorm;
O'erwhelming turrets threaten ere they fall;
Volcanos bellow ere they difembogue;
Earth trembles ere her yawning jaws devour;
And smoke betrays the wide-confuming fire:
Ruin from man is most conceal'd when near,
And fends the dreadful tidings in the blow.
Is this the flight of fancy? Would it were!
Heaven's Sovereign faves all beings but himself
That hideous fight, a naked human heart!

§ 201. Jealousy. YOUNG.
IT is Jealouly's peculiar nature
To fwell fmall things to great; nay, out of nought
To conjure much; and then to lofe its reafon
Amid the hideous phantoms it has form'd.

[blocks in formation]

203. Dying Friends. YOUNG. OUR dying friends come o'er us like a cloud

To damp our brainless ardours; and abate
That glare of life, which often blinds the wife.
Our dying friends are pioneers, to imooth
Our rugged pafs to death; to break thofe bars
Of terror and abhorrence nature throws
Crofs our obftructed way; and thus to make
Welcome, as fafe, our port from ev'ry storm.
Each friend by fate fnatch'd from us, is a plume
Pluck'd from the wing of human vanity,
Which makes us ftocp from our atrial heights,
And, damp'd with omen of our own difcafe,
On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd,
Juft fkim carth's furface, ere we break it up,
O'er putrid carth to fcratch a little duft,
And fave the world a nuifance. Smitten friends
Are angels fent on errands full of love;
For us they languifh, and for us they die:
And hall they languish, thall they die in vain?
Ungrateful, fhall we grieve their hov'ring fhades,

Which wait the revolution in our hearts?
Shall we difdain their flient, foft addrefs;

[ocr errors]

Their pofthumous advice, and pious pray'r ?
Senfelefs as herds that graze the hallow'd graves,
Tread under foot their agonies and groans;
Fruftrate their anguifh, and deftroy their deaths?
Lorenzo, no! the thought of death indulge;
Give it its wholefome empire! let it reign,
That kind chaftifer of thy foul in joy!
Its reign will fpread thy glorious conquefts far,
And fill the tumults of thy ruffled breast:
Aufpicious æra! golden days, begin!
The thought of death thall like a god infpire.

Thanks to the Deity. YOUNG.

§204.
BEST be that hand divine, which gently laid
My heart at reft, beneath this humble thed.
The world's a fiately bark on dang'rous feas,
With pleafure feen, but boarded at our peril;
Here, on a fingle plank, thrown fafe afhore,
I hear the tumult of the diftant throng,
As that of feas remote, or dying forms:
And meditate on fcenes more fient ftill;
Puifue my theme, and fight the Fear of Death.
Here, like a fhepherd gazing from his hut,
Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff,
Eager ambition's fiery chace I fee;

I fee the circling hunt of noify men
Burtt law's inclofare, leap the mounds of right,
Purfuing, and puriued, cach others prey;
As wolves, for rapine; as the fox, for wiles;
Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all.

[blocks in formation]

To none man feems ignoble, but to man;
Angels that grandeur men o'erlook, admire:
How long thall human nature be their book,
Degen'rate mortal! and unread by thee?
The beam dim reafon fheds fhews wonders there;
But the grand comment, which difplays at full
What high contents! Illuftrious faculties!
Our human height, fcarce fever'd from divine,
By Heaven compos'd, was publifh'd on the crois.
Who looks on that, and fees not in himilf
An awful ftranger, a terreftrial god?
A glorious partner with the Deity
if a God bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm:
In that high attribute, immortal life?
I gaze; and, as I gaze, my mounting foul
Catches ftrange fire, Eternity! at thee;
How chang'd the face of nature! how improv'd!
And drops the world-or rather, more enjoys:
What feem'd a chaos, fhines a glorious world,
Or, what a world, an Eden; heighten'd all!

It is another fcene, another felf!
And ftill another as time rolls along;
And that a felf far more illuftrious ftill.
Beyond long ages, yet roll'd up in thades,
Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keeneft ray,
What evolutions of furprifing fate!
How nature opens, and receives my foul
In boundless walks of raptur dthought! where gods
Encounter and embrace me! What new births
Of strange adventure, foreign to the fan,
Where what now charms, perhaps whate'er exifts,
Old time, and fair creation, are forgot!

Is this extravagant? Of man we form
Extravagant conception, to be just :
Conception unconfin'd wants wings to reach him!
Beyond its reach, the Godhead only, more.
He, the great Father! kindled at one flame
The world of rationals; one fpirit pour'd
From fpirit's awful fountain; pour'd Himself
Thro' all their fouls; but not in equal ftream,
Profufe, or frugal, of th infpiring God,
As his wife plan demanded; and when paft
Their various trials, in their various fpheres,
If they continue rational, as made,
Reforbs them all into Himfeif again;

His throne their centre, and his fimile their crown.

§ 207. Feeling. YOUNG.

WHOnever lov'dne'er fuffer'd; he feels nothing,

Who nothing feels but for himself alone; And when we feel for others, reafon reels, O'erloaded, from her path, and man runs mad. As love alone can exquifitely blefs, Love only feels the marvellous of pain; Opens new veins of torture in the foul, And wakes the nerve where agonies are born.

§ 208. Religion. YOUNG. RELIGION's all. Defcending from the skies To wretched man, the Goddefs in her left Holds out this world, and in her right the next; Religion! the fole voucher man is man; Supporter fole of man above himself; Even in this night of frailty, change, and death, She gives the foul a foul that acts a god. Religion! Providence! an after-state Here is firm footing; here is folid rock! This can fupport us; all is fea befides; Sinks under us; beftorms, and then devours. His hand the good man faftens on the fkies, And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl.

As when a wretch from thick, polluted air, Darkness, and french, and fuffocating damps, And dungeon-horrors, by kind fate discharg'd, Climbs fome fair eminence, where ether pue Surrounds him, and Elyfian profpects rife, His heart exults, his fpirits caft their load; As if new-born, he triumphs in the change; So joys the foul, when from inglorious aims, And fordid fweets, from feculence and froth Of ties terreftrial, fet at large, fhe mounts To Reaton's region, her own element,

Breathes hopes immortal, and affects the skies,
Religion! thou the foul of happiness;
And groaning Calvary, of thee! There thine
The nobleft truths; there ftrongeft motives fting?
There facred violence affaults the foul;
There nothing but compulfion is forborn.
Can love allure us, or can terror awe?
He weeps!-the falling drop puts out the fun;
He fighs!--the figh earth's deep foundation shakes.
If in his love fo terrible, what then
His wrath inflam'd, his tenderness on fire?
Like foft, finooth oil, out-blazing other fires?
Can pray'r, can praife avert it -Thou, my All!
My theme! my infpiration! and my crown!
My ftrength in age! my rife in low eftate!
My foul's ambition! pleafure! wealth! my world?
My light in darknets! and my life in death
My boast thro' time! blifs thro' eternity!
Eternity, too fhort to speak thy praife!
Or fathom thy profound of love to man;
To man of men the meaneft, even to me:
My facrifice! my God!-what things are thefet

§ 209. Jealousy. YOUNG. JEALOUSY! each other paffion's calm To thee, thou conflagration of the foul! Thou king of torments! thou grand counterpoize For all the tranfports beauty can inspire!

§ 210. Faith and Reafon. YOUNG. OND as we are, and juftly fond, of faith,

Reason, we grant, demands our first regard The mother honour'd, as the daughter dear. Reafon the root, fair faith is but the flow'r; The fading flow'r fhall die; but reafon lives Immortal, as her Father in the fkies. When faith is virtue, reafon makes it fo. Wrong not the Chriftian; think not reafon yours: 'Tis reafon our great Master holds fo dear; 'Tis reafon's injur'd rights His wrath refents; 'Tis reafon's voice obey'd His glories crown; To give loft reafon life, He pour'd his own: Believe, and fhew the reafon of a man; Believe, and tafte the pleasure of a God; Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb; Thro' reafon's wounds alone thy faith can die; Which dying, tenfold terror gives to death, And dips in venom his twice-mortal sting.

[blocks in formation]

Fondnefs for fame is avarice of air.

I grant, the man is vain who writes for praife.

« PředchozíPokračovat »