POE M S. AGAINST IMMODERATE GRIEF. To a Young Lady Weeping An Ode in Imitation of COULD mournful fighs, or floods of tears, prevent And weep my troubled thoughts away : To triumph o'er th' afflicted mind; On the fun-beams his tender eyes, Though cares affault thy breast on every side, But with kind hopes support thy mind, Then, lovely mourner, wipe those tears away, But keep thy looks and mind ferene, For fate is aw'd, and adverse fortunes fly HYMN TO THE MORNING. IN PRAISE OF LIGHT. PARENT of day! whose beauteous beams of light Thou first effay of light, and pledge of day! Rival of shade, eternal spring of light! Thou art the genuine fource of it: From thy bright unexhausted womb, The beauteous race of days and seasons come. Thy beauty ages cannot wrong, But, fpight of time, thou'rt ever young: Thou art alone heaven's modeft virgin light, Whose face a veil of blushes hides from human fight. Like some fair bride thou risest from thy bed, With gloomy fmiles thy rival night At thy approach, nature erects her head, And, from thy beams, new life and vigour take: Ev'n guilt and women cease to fear : To thee, the grateful caft their altars raise, And fing with early hymns thy praise; But yet thy fading glories foon decay. Thine's but a momentary stay; 'Too foon thou'rt ravifh'd from our fight, Borne down the stream of day, and overwhelm'd with light. Thy beams to their own ruin hafte, Before th' Almighty Artist fram'd the sky, His first command was for thy light; In purple swaddling-bands it struggling lay, Old Chaos then a cheerful smile put on, Though folid bodies dare exclude the light; The fparkling gems, and ore in mines below, When thou doft raise thy venerable head, And art in genuine night array'd, Thy Negro beauties then delight; Beauties, like polish'd jet, with their own darkne bright. And, from thy beauteous form, did firft prefage Thou doft thy fmiles impartially bestow, its own. Let there be light' "" the great Creator faid, His word the active child obey'd: Night did her teeming womb difclofe; And then the blushing morn, its brightest offfpring rofe. A while the Almighty wondering view'd, And then himself pronounc'd it good: "With night," faid he, "divide th' imperial "fway; "Thou my first labour art, and thou shalt blefs "the day." HYMN TO DARKNESS. DARKNESS, thou first great parent of us all, Thy wondrous birth is ev'n to time unknown, Say, in what diftant region doft thou dwell, From form and duller matter free. Involv'd in thee, we first receive our breath, come. The flent globe is struck with awful fear, Wher thy majestic fhades appear: Thou doit compofe the air and sea, And know'ft no difference here below: All things appear the fame by thee, Though light diftinction makes, thou giv'ft equality. Thon, darkness, art the lover's kind retreat, And doft the nuptial joys complete; Thou doft infpire them with thy fhade, Giv'ft vigour to the youth, and warm'st the yield. ing maid. Calm as the blefs'd above the Anchorites dwell, In caves of night, the oracles of old When the Almighty did on Horeb stand, Thy fhades enclos'd the hallow'd land; In clouds of night he was array'd, And venerable darkness his pavilion made. When he appear'd arm'd in his power and might, He veil'd the beatific light; When terrible with majefty, In tempefts he gave laws, and clad himself in thee. Ere the foundation of the earth was laid, Or brighter firmament was made; Ere matter, time, or place, was known, Thou, monarch darkness, sway'dit these spacious realmus alone. But, now the moon (though gay with borrow'd light) Invades thy fcanty lot of night: And earth a fabbath keeps, facred to reft and thee. The anarchy of stars depofe their monarch shade. In thy ferener fhades our ghofts delight, And court the umbrage of the night; Yet fading light its empire muft refign, And nature's power fubmit to thine: An univerfal ruin fhall erect thy throne, But fly the morning's beams, and ficken at the And fate confirm thy kingdom evermore day. own. HUMAN LIFE. SUPPOSED TO BE SPOKEN BY AN EPICURE. In Imitation of the Second Chapter of the Wisdom of Solomon. TO THE LORD HUNSDON, A PINDARIC ODE. THEN will penurious heaven no more allow ? Is it for this he lord of all appears, And his great Maker's image bears! To toil beneath a wretched state, Opprefs'd with miseries and fate; Beneath his painful burden groan, And in this beaten road of life drudge on! Amidst our labours, we poffefs No kind allays of happiness: No foftening joys can call our own, To make this bitter drug go down; Whilft death an easy conqueft gains, And the infatiate grave in endless triumph reigns. With throes and pangs into the world we come, The curfe and burden of the womb: Nor wretched to ourselves alone, Our mother's labours introduce our own, In cries and tears our infancy we waste, Those fad prophetic tears, that ow By inftina of our future woe: And ev'n our dawn of life with forrows overcast. Each his laborious part must have, Act o'er this farce of life, then drop beneath the stage. From our firft drawing vital breath, We all are pofting on to the dark goal of death, 'Tis fcatter'd like the winds that blow, Here we're detain'd a while, and then Time fhall a man to his first felf restore, Say, learned fage, thou that art mighty wife! That buoys his nature up, and does ev'n life fuf. tain ? YOL. VII. Is it not air, an empty fume, In one confuming minute's loft; Scatter with winds, and flow with common air. For duft and athes are its fecond birth, And that incorporates too with its great parent earth, Nor fhall our names our memories furvive, In vain we dear bought honours leave, For thee our stock of youth we waste, And urge on life, that ebbs too fast: To purchase thee with blood, the valiant fly; And, to furvive in fame, the great and glorious die. Lavish of life, they fquander this estate, And for a poor reverfion wait: Bankrupts and mifers to themselves they grow, Embitter wretched life with toils and woe, To hoard up endless fame, they know not where or how. Ah, think, my friends, how fwift the minutes hafte! The prefent day entirely is our own, Then feize the bleffing ere 'tis gone: 'Tis all penurious fate will give Qur fons crowd, on behind, our children drive us hence. With garlands then your temples crown, Roles that our emblems are; A while they flourish on the bough, And drink large draughts of heavenly dew: Bring cheerful wine, and coftly fweets prepare 3 B Or, if they must a longer hearing have, That, when the grave our bodies has ingrofs'd, Honours and titles, like ourselves, be loft; ply; But falfe enjoyment the kind guide deftroys, Fruition only cloys the appetite; Fix'd at no point, but always ebb or flow. Who moft expects, enjoys the pleasure most, 'Tis rais'd by wifhes, by fruition loft: We're charm'd with diftant views of happiness, But near approaches make the profpe lefs. Wines, like painted landscapes, best delight, Whilft diftance recommends them to the fight: Plac'd afar off, they beautiful appear; But flow their courfe and naufeous colours near. Thus the fam'd Midas, when he found his ftore Increasing ftill, and would admit of more, THE CURSE OF BABYLON. ISAIAH, Chap. xiii. Paraphrased. A PINDARIC ODE. Now let the fatal banner be display'd! Go fet the dreadful ftandard up! Draw forth in bright array, and mufter in the air. The hills tumultuous grow and loud, The hills that groan beneath the gathering mul titude. Wide as the poles of heaven's extent, So far's the dreadful fummons fent : Kingdoms and nations at his call appear, For ev❜n the Lord of hofts commands in perfon there. Start from thy lethargy, thou drowsy land, Awake, and hear his dread command! Thy black tempestuous day comes lowering en, O fatal light! O inaufpicious hour? Was ever fuch a day before! So ftain'd with blood, by marks of vengeance known. Nature fhall from her fteady course remove, And at his early dawn fhall fet in night again. grefs; I will confume the ftubborn race: Yet brutes and favages I juftly fpare; Ufelefs is all my vengeance there; Ungrateful man's the greater menfter far. On guiltless beafs I will the land beftow, To them th' inheritance fhall go; Thofe elder brothers now fhall lord it here below: And, if fome poor remains escape behind, Some relics left of loft mankind; Th' aftonifh'd herds thall in their cities cry, When they behold a man, lo, there's a prodigy! The Medes I call to my affiftance here, A people that delight in war; A generous race of men, a nation free From vicious ease and Persian luxury. Silver is defpicable in their eyes, Contemn'd the ufelefs metal lies: Their conquering iron they prefer before The fineft gold, ev'n Ophir's tempting ore. By these the land shall be subdued, Abroad their bows fhall overcome,, Their fwords and flames deftroy at home; For neither fex nor age fhall be exempt from blood. The nobles and princes of thy ftate Shall on the victor's triumphs wait: And those that from the battle fled Shall be, with chains opprefs'd, in cruel bondage led. I'll visit their diftrefs with plagues and miferies, The fword, that fhall their pangs increase, And all the throes of travail curfe with barrennefs, The infants fhall expire with their first breath, Live but with early cries to curfe the light, Ev'n Babylon, adorn'd with every grace, Shalt in the dust be trampled low: Which bright as neighbouring ftars appear, Thy beauteous palaces (though now thy pride!) In vaft surprising heaps fhall lie, And ev'n their ruins bear the pomp of majesty. And lie from age to age ruin'd and defolate. Thou, Babylon, fhalt be like Sodom curft, Dellroy'd by flames from heaven, and thy more burning luft. The day's at hand, when in thy fruitful foil No labourer shall reap, no mower toil : His tent the wandering Arab fhall not fpread, Nor make thy curfed ground his bed; Though faint with travel, though opprefs'd with thirst, He to his drooping herds fhall cry aloud, Tafle not of that embitter'd flood, Tafte not Euphrates' ftreams they're poisonous all, and curf'd, The fhepherd to his wandering flocks fhall fay, When o'er thy battlements they stray, When in thy palaces they graze, Ah, fly, unhappy flocks! fly this infectious place. Whilft the fad traveller, that paffes on, Shall afk, lo, where is Babylon? And when he has thy fmall remainder found, Shall fay, I'll fly from hence, 'tis fure accurfed ground. Then fhall the favages and beafts of prey Every obfcene and vulgar beaft curfes fear. |