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But comes at last the dull and dusky eve, Nor is it well, nor can it come to good,
And abrogate, as roundly as she may,
Advancing Fashion to the post of Truth,
But though true worth and virtue in the mild And knees and hassocks are well nigh divorc'd. And genial soil of cultivated life
God made the country, and man made the town. Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there, What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts, Yet not in cities oft : in proud, and gay,
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught, And gain-devoted cities. Thither flow,
That life holds out to all, should most abound As to a common and most noisome sewer,
And least be threaten'd in the fields and groves? The dregs and feculence of ev'ry land.
Possess ye therefore, ye who, borne about In cities foul example on most minds
In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue Begets it's likeness. Rank abundance breeds, But that of idleness, and taste no scenes In gross and pamper'd cities, sloth, and lust, But such as art contrives, possess ye still And wantonness, and gluttonous excess.
Your element; there only can ye shine ; In cities vice is hidden with most ease,
There only minds like yours can do no harm. Or seen with least reproach ; and virtue, taught Our groves were planted to console at noon By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there The pensive wand'rer in their shades. At eve Beyond th' achievement of successful fight. The moon-beam, sliding softly in between I do confess them nurs’ries of the arts,
The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, In which they flourish most ; where in the beams Birds warbling all the music.
We can spare Of warm encouragement, and in the eye
The splendour of your lamps ; they but eclipse Of public note, they reach their perfect size. Our softer satellite. Your songs confound Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd Our more harmonious notes; the thrush departs 'The fairest capital of all the world,
Scar'd, and th' offended nightingale is mute. By riot and incontinence the worst.
There is a public mischief in your mirth; There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes It plagues your country. Folly such as yours, A lucid mirror, in which Nature sees
Grac'd with a sword, and worthier of a fan, All her reflected features. Bacon there
Has made what enemies could ne'er have done, Gives more than female beauty to a stone,
Our arch of empire, stedfast but for you,
A mutilated structure, soon to fall.
Reflections suggested by the conclusion of the With which she gazes at yon burning disk
former book. Peace among the nations recomUndazzled, and detects and counts his spots ? mended on the ground of their common fellowIn London. Where her implements exact,
ship in sorrow. Prodigies enumerated. SiWith which she calculates, computes, and scans, cilian earthquakes. Man rendered obnoxious to All distance, motion, magnitude, and now
these calamities by sin. God the agent in them. Measures an atom, and now girds a world ?
The philosophy that stops at secondary causes In London. Where has commerce such a mart, reproved. Our own late miscarriages accounted So rich, so throng'd, so drain’d, and so supplied, for. Satirical notice taken of our trips to FonAs London - opulent, enlarg'd, and still
taine-Bleau. But the pulpit, not satire, the Increasing, London ? Babylon of old
proper engine of reformation. The reverend Not more the glory of the Earth than she,
advertiser of engraved sermons. Petit-maître A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now. parson, The good preacher. Picture of a
She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two, theatrical clerical coxcomb. Story-tellers and That so much beauty would do well to purge ; jesters in the pulpit reproved. Apostrophe to And show this queen of cities, that so fair
popular applause. Retailers of ancient phiMay yet be foul; so witty, yet not wise.
losophy expostulated with. Sum of the whole It is not seemly, nor of good report,
Effects of sacerdotal mismanagement That she is slack in discipline ; more prompt
on the laity. Their folly and extravagance. To avenge than to prevent the breach of law :
The mischiefs of profusion. Profusion itself, That she is rigid in denouncing death
with all it's consequent evils, ascribed, as to it's On petty robbers, and indulges life
principal cause, to the want of discipline in the And liberty, and oft-times honour too,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Still they are frowning signals, and bespeak Might never reach me more. My ear is pain'd, Displeasure in His breast, who smites the Earth My soul is sick, with ev'ry day's report
Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice.
And stand expos'd by common peccancy
To what no few have felt, there should be peace, Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax,
And brethren in calamity should love. That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
Alas for Sicily! rude fragments now He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Lie scatter'd, where the shapely column stood Not colour'd like his own; and having pow'r Her palaces are dust. In all her streets T enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause The voice of singing and the sprightly chond Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
Are silent. Revelry, and dance, and show Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Suffer a syncope and solemn pause; Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd
While God performs upon the trembling stage Make enemies of nations, who had else
Of his own works his dreadful part alone. Like kindred drops been mingled into one. How does the Earth receive him? - with what signs Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys; Of gratulation and delight her king ? And, worse than all, and most to be deplor'd Pours she not all her choicest fruits abroad, As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Her sweetest flowers, her aromatic gums Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat Disclosing Paradise where'er he treads ? With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding heart She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb, Weeps, when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Conceiving thunders through a thousand deeps Then what is man? And what man, seeing this, And fiery caverns, roars beneath his foot. And having human feelings, does not blush, The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke, And hang his head, to think himself a man? For he has touch'd them. From th' extremest point I would not have a slave to till my ground, Of elevation down into the abyss To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
His wrath is busy, and his frown is felt. And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth, The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rise, That sinews bought and sold have ever earn’d. The rivers die into offensive pools, No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's And charg'd with putrid verdure, breathe a gross Just estimation priz'd above all price,
And mortal nuisance into all the air.
What solid was, by transformation strange,
Sucks down it's prey insatiable. Immense
Multitudes, fugitive on ev'ry side,
Alighting in far distant fields, finds out Of all your empire; that, where Britain's pow'r A new possessor, and survives the change. Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.
Ocean has caught the phrenzy, and, upwrought Sure there is need of social intercourse,
To an enormous and o’erbearing height, Benevolence, and peace, and mutual aid,
Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice, Between the nations in a world, that seems Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore To roll the death-bell of it's own decease,
Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, And by the voice of all it's elements
Upridg'd so high, and sent on such a charge, To preach the gen'ral doom.* When were the winds Possess'd an inland scene. Where now the throng, Let slip with such a warrant to destroy ?
That press'd the beach, and, hasty to depart, When did the waves so haughtily o'erleap
Look'd to the sea for safety? They are gone, Their ancient barriers, deluging the dry ?
Gone with the refluent wave into the deep Fires from beneath, and ineteors + from above, A prince with half his people! Ancient tow'rs, Portentous, unexampled, unexplain'd,
And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes, Have kindled beacons in the skies; and th' old Where beauty oft and letter'd worth consume And crazy Farth has had her shaking fits
Life in the unproductive shades of death, More frequent, and foregone her usual rest. Fall prone: the pale inhabitants come forth, Is it a time to wrangle, when the props
And, happy in their unforeseen release And pillars of our planet seem to fail,
From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy And Nature with a dim and sickly eye
The terrours of the day, that sets them free. To wait the close of all ? But grant her end Who then, that has thee, would not hold thee fast, More distant, and that prophecy demands
Freedom ! whom they that lose thee so regret, A longer respite, unaccomplish'd yet ;
That ev'n a judgment, making way for thee,
Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake? * Alluding to the calamities in Jamaica.
Such evil Sin hath wrought; and such a flame † August 18. 1783.
Kindled in Heav'n, that it burns down to Earth, Alluding to the fog, that covered both Europe and in the furious inquest, that it makes and Asia during the whole summer of 1789. On God's behalf, lays waste his fairest works
The very elements, though each be meant
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still The minister of man, to serve his wants,
My country! and, while yet a nook is left, Conspire against him. With his breath he draws Where English minds and manners may be found, A plague into his blood ; and cannot use
Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime Life's necessary means, but he must die.
Be fickle, and thy year most part deform'd Storms rise to’erwhelm him: or if stormy winds With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost, Rise not, the waters of the deep shall rise,
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, And, needing none assistance of the storm, And fields without a flow'r, for warmer France Shall roll themselves ashore, and reach him there.
With all her vines : nor for Ausonia's groves The earth shall shake him out of all his holds, Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bow'rs. Or make his house his grave: nor so content,
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood,
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire And drown him in her dry and dusty gulfs. Upon thy foes, was never meant my task : What then! were they the wicked above all, But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake And we the righteous, whose fast-anchor'd isle Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart Mov'd not, while theirs was rock’d, like a light skiff, | As any thund'rer there. And I can feel The sport of ev'ry wave ? No: none are clear, Thy follies too, and with a just disdain And none than we more guilty. But, where all Frown at effeminates, whose very looks Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts | Reflect dishonour on the land I love. Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose his mark : How, in the name of soldiership and sense, (smooth May punish, if he please, the less, to warn Should England prosper, when such things, as The more malignant. If he spar'd not them, And tender as a girl, all essenc'd o'er Tremble and be amaz'd at thine escape,
With odours, and as profligate as sweet; Far guiltier England, lest he spare not thee ! Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath,
Happy the man, who sees a God employ'd And love when they should fight; when such as these In all the good and ill, that chequer life !
Presume to lay their hand upon the ark Resolving all events with their effects
Of her magnificent and aweful cause ? And manifold results, into the will
Time was when it was praise and boast enough And arbitration wise of the Supreme.
In ev'ry clime, and travel where we might, Did not his eye rule all things, and intend That we were born her children. Praise enough The least of our concerns (since from the least To fill th' ambition of a private man, The greatest oft originate); could chance
That Chatham's language was his mother's tongue, Find place in his dominion, or dispose
And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own. One lawless particle to thwart his plan;
Farewell those honours, and farewell with them Then God might be surpris’d, and unforeseen The hope of such hereafter; they have fallin Contingence might alarm him, and disturb Each in his field of glory; one in arms, The smooth and equal course of his affairs,
| And one in council - Wolfe upon the lap This truth Philosophy, though eagle-ey'd
Of smiling Victory that moment won, In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks ;
And Chatham heart-sick of his country's shame! And, having found his instrument, forgets, They made us many soldiers. Chatham, still Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still, Consulting England's happiness at home, Denies the pow's that wields it. God proclaims Secur'd it by an unforgiving frown, His hot displeasure against foolish men,
If any wrong'd her. Wolfe, where'er he fought, That live an atheist life: involves the Heav'ns Put so much of his heart into his act, In tempests ; quits his grasp upon the winds, That his example had a magnet's force, And gives them all their fury ; bids a plague And all were swift to follow whom all lov'da Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin,
Those suns are set. () rise some other such !
With lavender, and sprinkle liquid sweets,
The nose of nice nobility! Breathe soft,
Ye clarionets; and softer still, ye flutes; By necessary laws their sure effects;
That winds and waters, lull’d by magic sounds, Of action and re-action : he has found
May bear us smoothly to the Gallic shore ! The source of the disease, that nature feels, True, we have lost an empire — let it pass. And bids the world take heart and banish fear. True ; we may thank the perfidy of France, Thou fool! will thy discov'ry of the cause That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown, Suspend th' effect, or heal it? Has not God With all the cunning of an envious shrew. Still wrought by means since first he made the world? And let that pass —'t was but a trick of state ! And did he not of old employ his means,
A brave man knows no malice, but at once To drown it? What is his creation less
Forgets in peace the injuries of war, Than a capacious reservoir of means
And gives his direst foe a friend's embrace. Form'd for his use, and ready at his will ?
And, sham'd as we have been, to th' very beard Go, dress thine eyes with eye-salve; ask of him, Brav'd and defied, and in our own sea prov'd Or ask of whomsoever he has taught ;
Too weak for those decisive blows, that once And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all. Ensur'd us mast'ry there, we yet retain
Sonne small pre-eminence; we justly boast And, arm'd himself in panoply complete
Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms
Bright as his own, and trains, by ev'ry rule Go then, well worthy of the praise ye seek, Of holy discipline, to glorious war And show the shame, ye might conceal at home, The sacramental host of God's elect! In foreign eyes ! — be grooms and win the plate, Are all such teachers ? - Would to Heaven all were! Where once your nobler fathers won a crown! — But hark — the doctor's voice! fast wedg'd between 'T is gen'rous to communicate your skill
Two empirics he stands, and with swoln cheeks To those that need it. Folly is soon learn'd: Inspires the news, his trumpet. Keener far And under such preceptors who can fail !
Than all invective is his bold harangue, There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
While through that public organ of report Which only poets know. The shifts and turns, He hails the clergy; and, defying shame, Th' expedients and inventions multiform,
Announces to the world his own and theirs !
And emphasis in score, and gives to pray's
Down into modern use; transforms old print Then to dispose his copies with such art,
To zig-zag manuscript, and cheats the eyes
Are there who purchase of the doctor's ware? Than by the labour and the skill it cost ;
O name it not in Gath!- it cannot be, Are occupations of the poet's mind
That grave and learned clerks should need such aid. So pleasing, and that steal away the thought He doubtless is in sport, and does but droll, With such address from themes of sad import, Assuming thus a rank unknown before That, lost in his own musings, happy man! Grand caterer and dry-nurse of the church! He feels th' anxieties of life, denied
I venerate the man, whose heart is warm, Their wonted entertainment, all retire.
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life Such joys has he that sings. But ah! not such, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof, Or seldom such, the hearers of his song.
That he is honest in the sacred cause. Fastidious, or else listless, or perhaps
To such I render more than mere respect, Aware of nothing arduous in a task
Whose actions say, that they respect themselves They never undertook, they little note
But loose in morals, and in manners vain,
In conversation frivolous, in dress
Frequent in park with lady at his side,
Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes; I would not trifle merely, though the world But rare at home, and never at his books, Be loudest in their praise, who do no more. Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card; Yet what can satire, whether grave or gay? Constant at routs, familiar with a round It may correct a foible, may chastise
Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor ;
Ambitious of preferment for its gold,
To his own pleasures and his patron's pride.
From such apostles, O ye mitred heads, Laugh'd at, he laughs again; and stricken hard Preserve the church! and lay not careless hands Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales,
On sculls, that cannot teach, and will not learn. That fear no discipline of human hands.
Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, The pulpit, therefore, (and I name it tillid Were he on Earth, would hear, approve, and own, With solemn awe, that bids me well beware Paul should himself direct me. I would trace With what intent I touch that holy thing,) - His master-strokes, and draw from his design. The pulpit, (when the sat’rist has at last,
I would express him simple, grave, sincere; Strutting and vap’ring in an empty school, In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, Spent all his force, and made no proselyte,) - And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste, I say the pulpit (in the sober use
And natural in gesture ; much impress'd Of it's legitimate, peculiar pow'rs,) (stand, Himself, as conscious of his aweful charge, Must stand acknowledg'd, while the world shall And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds The most important and effectual guard,
May feel it too; affectionate in look, Support, and ornament, of virtue's cause.
And tender in address, as well becomes There stands the messenger of truth: there stands A messenger of grace to guilty men. The legate of the skies ! His theme divine, Behold the picture !- Is it like ? — Like whom? His office sacred, his credentials clear.
The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, By him the violated law speaks out
And then skip down again ; pronounce a test; It's thunders, and by him, in strains as sweet Cry- Hem; and reading what they never wrote As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace.
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, He 'stablishes the strong, restores the weak, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene! Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart, In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
But swell'd into a gust - who then, alas ! And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
With all his canvass set, and inexpert, All affectation. 'T is my perfect scorn!
And therefore heedless, can withstand thy pow'r ? Object of my implacable disgust.
Praise from the rivellid lips of toothless bald
And craving Poverty, and in the bow
Respectful of the smutch'd artificer, And pretty face, in presence of his God?
Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes,
The bias of the purpose. How much more, As with the diamond on his lily hand,
Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite, And play his brilliant parts before my eyes, In language soft as Adoration breathes ? When I am hungry for the bread of life?
Ah spare your idol! think him human still. He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames Charms he may have, but he has frailties too! His noble office, and, instead of truth,
Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire. Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock.
All truth is from the sempiternial source Therefore avaunt all attitude, and stare,
Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, And start theatric, practis'd at the glass !
Drew from the stream below. More favour'd we I seek divine simplicity in him,
Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain head. Who handles things divine ; and all besides, (mir'd To them it flow'd much mingled and defil'd Though learn’d with labour, and though much ad. With hurtful errour, prejudice, and dreams By curious eyes and judgments ill-inform’d, Illusive of philosophy, so callid, To me is odious as the nasal twang
But falsely. Sages after sages strove Heard at conventicle, where worthy men,
In vain to filter off a crystal draught Misled by custom, strain celestial themes
Pure from the lees, which often more enhanc'd Through the press'd nostril, spectacle-bestrid. The thirst than slak'd it, and not seldom bred Some decent in demeanour while they preach, Intoxication and delirium wild. That task perform'd, relapse into themselves ; In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth (man? And having spoken wisely, at the close
And spring-time of the world; ask'd, Whence is Grow wanton, and give proof to ev'ry eye, Why form’d at all ? and wherefore as he is? Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not!
Where must he find his Maker ? with what rites Forth comes the pocket mirror. - First we stroke Adore him ? Will he hear, accept, and bless ? An eyebrow; next compose a straggling lock; Or does he sit regardless of his works? Then with an air most gracefully perform'd Has man within him an immortal seed ? Fall back into our seat, extend an arm,
Or does the tomb take all? If he survive And lay it at its ease with gentle care,
His ashes, where ? and in what weal or woe? With handkerchief in hand depending low: Knots worthy of solution, which alone The better hand more busy gives the nose
A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague Its bergamot, or aids th' indebted eye
And all at random, fabulous and dark, With op'ra glass, to watch the moving scene, Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life, And recognize the slow retiring fair.
Defective and unsanction'd, prov'd too weak, Now this is fulsome ; and offends me more To bind the roving appetite, and lead Than in a churchman slovenly neglect
Blind nature to a God not yet reveal'd. And rustic coarseness would. A heav'nly mind 'Tis Revelation satisfies all doubts, May be indiff'rent to her house of clay,
Explains all mysteries, except her own, And slight the hovel as beneath her care;
And so illuminates the path of life, But how a body so fantastic, trim,
That fools discover it, and stray no more. And quaint, in it's deportment and attire,
Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir, Can lodge a heav'nly mind — demands a doubt. My inan of morals, nurtur'd in the shades
He, that negotiates between God and man, of Academus - is this false or true ? As God's ambassador, the grand concerns
Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schools ? Of judgment and of mercy, should beware
If Christ, then why resort at ev'ry turn Of lightness in his speech. T is pitiful
To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom short To court a grin, when you should woo a soul; Of man's occasions, when in him reside To break a jest, when pity would inspire
Grace, knowledge, comfort - an unfathom'd store ? Pathetic exhortation ; and address
How oft, when Paul has serv'd us with a text, The skittish fancy with facetious tales,
Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preach'd ! When sent with God's commission to the heart! Men that, if now alive, would sit content So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip
And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, Or merry turn in all he ever wrote,
Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth. And I consent you take it for your text,
Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too! Your only one, till sides and benches fail.
And thus it is - The pastor, either vain
By nature, or by flatt'ry made so, taught
Or unenlighten'd, and too proud to learn;
Or vicious, and not therefore apt to teach ; O Popular Applause! what heart of man Perverting often by the stress of lewd Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms ? And loose example, whom he should instruct; The wisest and the best feel urgent need
Exposes, and holds up to broad disgrace, Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales;
The noblest function, and discredits mach