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there only reach their proper use. Determined, and possessing it at last But man, associated and leagued with man With transports, such as favoured lovers feel, By regal warrant, or self-joined by bond I studied, prized, and wished that I had known For interest sake, or swarming into clans
Ingenious Cowley ! and, though now reclaimed Beneath one head, for purposes of war,
By modern lights from an erroneous taste, Like flowers selected from the rest, and bound I can not but lament thy splendid wit. And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, Entangled in the cobwebs of the schools. Fades rapidly, and, by compression marred, I still revere thee, courtly though retired ! Contracts defilement not to be endured.
Though stretched at ease in Chertsey's silent Hence chartered boroughs are such public plagues ; bowers, And burghers, men immaculate perhaps Not unemployed; and finding rich amends In all their private functions, once combined, Fora lost world in solitude and verse. Become a loathsome body, only fit
'Tis born with all the love of Nature's works For dissolution, hurtful to the main.
Is an ingredient in the compound man Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sin
Infused at the creation of the kind. Against the charities of domestic life,
And, though th’ Almighty Maker has throughout Incorporated, seem at once to lose
Discriminated each from each, by strokes Their nature; and, disclaiming all regard And touches of his hand, with so much art For mercy and the common rights of man, Diversified, that two were never found Build factories with blood, conducting trade Twins at all points—yet this obtains in all,
the sword's point, and dying the white robe That all discern a beauty in his works, Of innocent commercial Justice red.
And all can taste them: minds that have been Hence too the field of glory, as the world
formed Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array,
And tutored with a relish more exact, With all its majesty of thundering pomp, But none without some relish, none unmoved. Enchanting music and immortal wreaths, It is a flame, that dies not even there, Is but a school, where thoughtlessness is taught Where nothing feeds it: neither business, crowds, On principle, where foppery atones
Nor habits of luxurious city life, For folly, gallantry for every vice.
Whatever else they smother of true worth But slighted as it is, and by the great In human bosoms, quench it or abate. Abandoned, and, which still I more regret, The villas with which London stands begirt, Infected with the manners and the modes Like a swarth Indian, with his belt of beads, . It knew not once, the country wins me still. Prove it. A breath of unadulterate air, I never framed a wish, or formed a plan, The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer That flattered me with hopes of earthly bliss, The citizen, and brace his languid frame!' But there I laid the scene. There early strayed E'en in the stifling bosom of the town, My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice
A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms Had found me, or the hope of being free. That soothe the rich possessor; much consoled, My very dreams were rural; rural too
That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint, The first-born efforts of my youthful muse, Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the well Sportive and jingling her poetic bells,
He cultivates. These serve him with a hint, Ere yet her ear was mistress of their powers.
That nature lives; that sight-refreshing green No bard could please me' but whose lyre was Is still the livery she delights to wear, tuned
Though sickly samples of th' exuberant whole To Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats What are the casements lined with creeping herbs, Fatigued me, never weary of the pipe
The prouder sashes fronted with a range Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang,
Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed, The rustic throng beneath his favourite beech. The Frenchman's darling ?* are they not all proofs, Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms: That man, immured in cities, still retains New to my taste his Paradise surpassed His inborn inextinguishable thirst The struggling efforts of my boyish tongue Of rural scenes, compensating his loss To speak its excellence. I danced for joy. By supplemental shifts, the best he may ? I marvelled much, that, at so ripe an age
The most unfurnished with the means of life, As twice seven years, his beauties had then first And they, that never pass their brick-wall bounds, Engaged my wonder; and admiring still, To range the fields, and treat their lungs with air, And still admiring, with regret supposed Yet feel the burning instinct: over head The joy half lost, because not sooner found. Suspend their crazy boxes, planted thick There too enamoured of the life I loved, Pathetic in its praise, in its pursuit
ARGUMENT. Afmey morning.-The foddering of cattle. — The wondman and his dog. -The poultry, --Whimsical effects of frost at a waterfall – The empress of Russia's palace of ice.--Amusements of monarchs - War, one of them. - Wars, whence. And whence monarchy.--The evils of it.-—-English and French loyalty contrasted: The Bastile, and a prisoner there. --Liberty the chief recommendation of this country. --Modern patriotism questionable
, and why. The perishable nature of the beg hunian instrutions. - Spiritual liberty not perishable. The slávisti state of man by nature. --Deliver him, Deist, if you can --Grace must do it -The respective merits of patriots and inartyrs stulel. -Their different treatment. - Happy Treedom es the man whom grace makes free. His relish of the works of God. --Address to the Creator.
'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb Their wonted fodder; not like hungering man, Ascending, fires th' horizon; while the clouds, Fretful if unsupplied; but silent, meek, That crowd away before the driving wind, And patient of the slow paced swain's delay. More ardent as the disk emerges more,
He from the stack carves out th' accustomed load, Resemble most some city in a blaze,
Deep-plunging, and again deep-plunging oft, Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray His broad keen knife into the solid mass; Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale,
Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands, And, tinging all with his own rosy hue, With such undeviating and even force From every herb and every spiry blade
He severs it away: no needless'
care, Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field. Lest storms should overset the leaning pile Mine, spindling into longitude immense, Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight. In spite of grayity, and sage remark
Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcerned That I myself am but a fleeting shade, The cheerful haunts of man; to wield the axe, Provokes me to a smile. With eye askance And drive the wedge, in yonder forest drear, I view the muscular proportioned limb
From morn to eve his solitary task. Transformed to a lean shank. The shapeless pair, Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears, As they designed to mock me, at '
my side And tail cropped short, half lurcher and half cur Take step for step; and, as I near approach His dog attends him. Close behind his heel The cottage, walk along the plastered wall, Now creeps he slow; and now, with many a frisk Preposterous sight! the legs without the man. Wide-scampering, snatches up the drifted snow The verdure of the plain lies buried deep With ivory teeth, or ploughs it with his snout; Beneath the dazzling deluge; and the bents, Then shakes his powdered coat, and barks for joy. And coarser grass, upspearing o'er the rest, Heedless of all his pranks, the sturdy churl Of late unsightly and unseen, now shine Moves right toward the mark; nor stops for aught Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad,
But now and then with pressure of his thumb And, fledged with icy feathers, not superb. T'adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube, The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence That fumes beneath his nose; the trailing cloud Screens them, and seem half petrified to sleep Streams far behind him, scenting all the air. In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait Now from the roots, or from the neighbouring pale,
Where, diligent to catch the first faint gleam Shoot into pillars of pellucid length,
Thus Nature works as if to mock at Art,
And in defiance of her rival powers;
Performing such inimitable feats,
As she with all her rules can never reach. Remains to each, the search of sunny nook, Less worthy of applause, though more admired, Or shed impervious to the blast. Resigned Because a novelty, the work of man, To sad necessity, the cock foregoes
Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, His wonted strut; and wading at their head Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, With well-considered steps, seeins to resent The wonder of the North. No forest fell, His altered gait and stateliness retrenched. When thou wouldst build; no quarry sent his How find the myriads, that in summer cheer
stores The hills and valleys with their ceaseless songs, T'' enrich thy walls: but thou didst hew the floods, Due sustenance, or whero subsist they now? And make thy marble of the glassy wave. Earth yields them nought: th' imprisoned worn is In such a palace Aristrus found safe
Cyrene, when he bore the plaintiff tale
The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet, The long protracted rigour of the year
Skin-piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail, Thins all their numerous tlocks. In chinks and And snow, that often blinds the traveller's course, holes
And wraps him in an unexpected tombe Ten thousand seek an unmolested end,
Silently as a dream the fabric rose; As instinct prompts; self-buried ere they die. No sound of hammer or of saw was there: The very rooks and daws forsake the fields, Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts Where neither grub, nor root, nor earth-nut, now Were soon conjoined, nor other cement asked Repays their labour more; and perched aloft Than water interfused to make them one. By the wayside, or stalking in the path. Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all hues, Lean pensioners upon the traveller's track, Illumined every side: a watery light Pick up their nauseous dole, though sweet to them, Gleamed through the clear transparency, that Of voided pulse or half-digested grain.
seemed The streams are lost amid the splendid blank, Another moon new risen, or meteor fallen O'erwhelming all distinction. On the flood, From Heaven to Earth, of lambent flame serene. Indurated and fixed, the snowy weight
So stood the brittle prodigy; though smooth Lies undissolved; while silently beneath, And slippery the materials, yet frost-bound And unperceived, the current steals away. Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within, Not so where, scornful of a check, it leaps That royal residence might well befit, The mill-dam, dashes on the restless wheel, For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths And wantons in the pebbly gult" below: Of flowers that feared no enemy but warmth, No frost can bind it there; its utmost force. Blushed on the pannels. Mirror needed none Can but arrest the light and smoky mist, Where all was vitreous; but in order due That in its fall the liquid sheet throws wide. Convivial table and commodious seat And see where it has hung the embroidered banks (What seemed at least commodious scat) were With forms so various, that no powers of art,
there; The pencil or the pen, may trace the scene ! Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. Here glittering turrets rise, upbearing high The same lubricity was found in all. (Fantastic misarrangement !) on the roof And all was moist to the warm touch; a scene Large growth of what may seem the sparkling Of evanescent glory, once a stream,
And soon to slide into a stream again. And shrubs of fairy land. The crystal drops, Alas! 'twas but a mortifying stroke That trickle down the branches, fast congealed, Of undeserved severity that glanced
(Made by a monarch) on her own estate, T'improve and cultivate their just demesne, On human grandeur and the courts of kings. Made others covet what they saw so fair. 'Twas transient in its nature, as in show Thus war began on earth: these fought for spoil, 'Twas durable; as worthless as it seemed And those in self-defence. Savage at first Intrinsically precious; to the foot
The onset, and irregular. At length Treacherous and false; it smiled, and it was One eminent above the rest for strength, cold.
For stratagem, for courage, or for all, Great princes have great playthings. Some was chosen leader; him they served in war, have played
And him in peace, for sake of warlike deeds At hewing mountains into men,
Reverenced no less. Who could with him comAt building human wonders mountain high. Some have amused the dull, sad years of life, Or who so worthy to control themselves, (Life spent in indolence, and therefore sad) As he, whose prowess had subdued their foes ? With schemes of monumental fame; and sought Thus war, affording field for the display By pyramids and mausolean pomp,
Of virtue, made one chief, whom times of peace, Short-lived themselves, t' immortalize their bones. Which have their exigencies too, and call Some seek diversion in the tented field,
For skill in government, at length made king. And make the sorrows of mankind their sport. King was a name too proud for man to wear But war's a game, which, were their subjects with modesty and meekness; and the crown, wise,
So dazzling in their eyes, who set it on,
When Babel was confounded, and the great They know not what it is to feel within
A comprehensive faculty, that grasps Was split into diversity of tongues,
Great purposes with ease, that turns and wields, Then, as a shepherd separates his flock, Almost without an effort, plans too vast These to the upland, to the valley those,
For their conception, which they can not move.
Step forth to notice: and, besotted thus,
They roll themselves before him in the dust,
When most extravagant in his applause,
Adopting their mistake, profoundly thinks
The world was made in vain, if not for him. Contriver, who first sweated at the forge, Thenceforth they are his cattle; drudges, born And forced the blunt and yet unbloodied steel To bear his burthens, drawing in his gears, To a keen edge, and made it bright for war. And sweating in his service, his caprice Him Tubal named, the Vulcan of old times, Becomes the soul that animates them all. The sword and falchion their inventor claim; He deems a thousand, or ten thousand, lives, And the first smith was the first murderer's son. Spent in the purchase of renown for him, His art survived the waters; and ere long, An casy reckoning; and they think the same. When man was multiplied and spread abroad Thus kings were first invented, and thus kings In tribes and clans, and had begun to call Were burnished into heroes, and became These meadows, and that range of hills his own, The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp; The tasted sweets of property begat
Storks among frogs, that have but croaked and Desire of more, and industry in some,
Strange, that such folly, as lifts bloated man Beyond that mark is treason. He is ours,
T' administer, to guard, t adorn the state,
But not to warp or change it. We are his, E'en in the cradled weakness of the world! To serve him nobly in the common cause, Still stranger much, that when at length man- True to the death, but not to be his slaves. kind
Mark now the difference, ye that boast your love
We love the man, the paltry pageant you:
Our love is principle, and has its root
And licks the foot that treads it in the dust.
Were kingship as true treasure as it seems, Such dupes are men to custom, and so prone Sterling and worthy of a wise man's wish, To reverence what is ancient, and can plead I would not be a king to be beloved A course of long observance for its use, Causeless, and daubed with undiscerning praise, That even servitude, the worst of ills,
Where love is mere attachment to the throne, Because delivered down from sire to son, Not to the man, who fills it as he ought. Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing.
Whose freedom is by suflerance, and at will But is it fit, or can it bear the shock
Of a superior, he is never free. Of rational discussion, that a man,
Who lives, and is not weary of a life Compounded and made up like other men Exposed to manacles, deserves them well. Of elements tumultuous, in whom lust
The state, that strives for liberty, though foiled, And folly in as ample measure meet,
And forced t’ abandon what she bravely sought, As in the bosoms of the slaves he rules,
Deserves at least applause for her attempt Should be a despot absolute, and boast
And pity for her loss. But that's a cause Himself the only freeman of his land?
Not often unsuccessful: power usurped Should, when he pleases, and on whom he will, Is weakness when opposed; conscious of wrong, Wage war, with any or with no pretence 'Tis pusillanimous and prone to flight. Of provocation given, or wrong sustained, But slaves, that once conceive the glowing thought And force the beggarly last doit by means
Of freedom, in that hope itself possess That his own humour dictates, from the clutch All that the contest calls for; spirit, strength, Of Poverty, that thus he may procure
The scorn of danger, and united hearts; His thousands, weary of penurious life,
The surest presage of the good they seek.* A splendid opportunity to die?
Then shame to manhood, and opprobrious more Say ye, who (with less prudence than of old To France than all her losses and defeats, Jotham ascribed to his assembling trees
Old or of later date, by sea or land, In politic convention) put your trust
Her house of bondage, worse than that of old I'th' shadow of a bramble, and reclined
Which God avenged on Pharaoh-the Bastille. In fancied peace beneath his dangerous branch, Ye horrid towers, the abode of broken hearts; Rejoice in him; and celebrate his sway, Ye dungeons and ye cages of despair, Where find ye passive fortitude ? Whence springs That monarchs have supplied from age to age Your self-denying zeal, that holds it good, With music, such as suits their sovereign ears, To stroke the prickly grievance, and to hang The sighs and groans of miserable men! His thorns with streamers of continual praise? There's not an English heart that would not leap We too are friends to loyalty. We love To hear that ye were fallen at last; to know The king, who loves the law, respects his bounds That e'en our enemies, so oft employed And reigns content within them: him we serve In forging chains for us, themselves were free. Freely and with delight, who leaves us free: For he, who values Liberty, confines But recollecting still, that he
His zeal for her predominance within
· The author hopes, that he shall not be censured for unne
cekiry warmth upon so interesting a subject. He is afare, And vain enough to be ambitious still;
that it is become almost fashionable to stigmatize such sentiMay exercise amiss his proper powers,
ments as no better than empty declaination; but it is an il Or covet more than freemen choose to grant: symptom, and poculiar to modern times.