« הקודםהמשך »
Traverse thy velvet-mantled lawns,
Where graze thy flocks, and sport thy fawns;
Ascend thy flopes, and pierce thy groves,
To listen to their warblers loves;
Or to thy limpid rills retire,
And cool the sun's meridian fire:
Then rest supine, where branching trees
Exclude the unremitting breeze :
Or oft with transport turn an eye
On the scenes that round me lie;
Mark yon river's mazy bed,
Where many a willow rears it's head;
Catch the village echo far;
See numerous spires ascend in air,
With shining domes in trees embrac'd,
And Nature mix'd with genuine Taste ;
All the varied landscape view,
Till the high hills are loft in blue.
There let me tune the vocal lyre,
And, Nature, thou my voice inspire !
Here meditate the lyrick strains,
That Warton pipes on Ifis' plains;
Admire each foul-enchanting line,
And catch some grace to call it mine.
From Hawkins' Muse attempt to please
With native, unaffected ease;
Learn all description's force from Pye,
And with his strains immortal vie:
From lovely Craven's comick vein,
Of human nature knowledge gain;
Whose attick wit, and genius bright,
O'er gloomy Care can throw delight;
Who paints the scene that Nature shows,
Nor suffers Art to interpose !
Thus thro’ life’s vale o let me stray,
In mild Contentment's placid way;
Nor court the favour of the great;
Nor spend a figh for wealth or state;
Nor with in Fame's broad roll to shine;
But be the social pleasures mine.
All the joys o let me prove,
That spring from Constancy and Love ;
From Heaven receive the friend sincere,
To taste my bliss, or soothe my care:
And since pure Nature's wants are few,
Let me her simple plan pursue ;
To Virtue's love resign my heart,
And never know delusive Art.
Şanctius his animal, mentisque capacius altæ.
SCEND, my soul, and elevate thy thought,
To view the wonders by thy Maker wrought;
To yon bright arch, thy dazzled eyes erect,
And in the work confess the Architect:
Then, looking down, contracted in a span,
Behold another universe in man.
Duft is his origin, and earth his place:
But on the mother's side, though man be base,
Sprung from the facred fire, to Heaven allied,
The conscious fool maintains her noble pride:
Nor is it pride; what gratitude were due,
Unless the value of the gift she knew?
No more, O man! thy faculties disgrace;
Nor seek to herd among the reptile race:
Nor through the boundless fields of æther roam,
Loft in thy search-begin thy search at home.
Think on thy first forefather, when he lay
Inanimate upon his native clay:
The beauteous symmetry, though not inspir'd
With vital breath, was then to be admir'd.
When art but imitates, in Parian stone,
The swelling muscles, and the jointed bone ;
The steady thighs, the ribs with easy sweep,
Which all erect the stately polture keep;
The supple knee, the ancies firm to stand,
The bending fingers, and the grasping hand;
The neck, with gentle negligence inclin'd,
The lively features that express the mind :
When thus, though from the marble hard and rude,
With yielding Aeth the figure seems endu'd,
How can it's air to veneration move,
Or the cold ivory warm the carver's love?
What this external mold contains within,
Unseen, unknown, to actuate the machine;
Or why the whole, or why the parts were made,
Each for itself, and each for mutual aid,
Remains to ak. See! from the ground he springs !
What power has given the groveling creature wings?
See! how to Heaven he cafts his opening eyes;
New to the scene of wonders he descries :
Then runs, and leaps, perceives, and understands,
And lifts with sudden extasy his hands ;
Say, whence am I? and whence these objects all,
• That strike my sense?' He calls, or seems to call.
What is that sense ? how downward from the brain,
The subtle nerves deduce their artful chain,
And what æthereal juice their tubes contain:
What to the ear impulsive air conveys,
What in the eye collects the visual rays, ,
Let Reason trace; in all their mazes lost,
The smallest work commends the Artist mok.
Yet usefulness of parts, and sense acute,
Man but enjoys in common with the brute;
They move, and feed, and leave their like behind
To him a nobler province is affign'd,
To worship God, and benefit his kind.
When from the sun his fire Prometheus stole;
Could that give reason to the human soul ?
That vital fire, each, as he likes, explain;
Lodg'd in the heart, or labouring in the brain,
From whence the circulating spirits flow;
Pleasure or pain their action may bestow,
But 'tis the mind determines bliss or woe.
Who was it first the infant tongue unbound,
And tun'd it to the elements of sound;
The world of beings by their names to call,
Or, by soft intervals, to rise and fall?
The mimic parrot echoes what is taught,
The speech of man is the result of thought;
The lark and linnet strain their warbling throats,
But not a word accompanies their notes.
O! then to God thy double tribute bring !
Reason, to speak his works, and Verse, to fing.
Since such pre-eminence is thine alone,
great gifts their greater Author own:
Nor doubt that all was given to thy command,
Arm’d with that useful instrument, the hand,
To tame thy vassals of the air and land.
By this, and Reason's aid, be taught to fhear
The bleating sheep, and break the sturdy steer:
Thine is the robe the curling fleeces yield;
And thịne the plenty of the furrow'd field.
Go, lure the falcon from his airy way ;
Not for himself the spoiler strikes the prey:
Launch'd from his master's hand, he soars above,
And chases through the clouds the trembling dove ;
Or grapples with the heron, when, on high,
He 'rends her finny captives in the sky.
Go, teach the generous courser, not to fear
When the shrill trumpet terrifies the ear,
In equal rank to keep, or change his ground,
Though thousands fall, and thunder roars around.
Libyans and Indians, marching to the war, .
May scorn the fiery fteed, and rolling car:
Amid the fwarthy hoft, aloft appears
A living bulk, that crefted turrets bears;
Forward he presses on the adverse foe,
While the bold archer deals his darts below.
Who taught to manage that unwieldy strength ;
Or with the finewy trunk's enormous length,
His mounting rider to his feat to aid ?
Or pierce the thickest legions, undismay'd,
Though in impenetrable fcales array'd ?
When Behemoth the ruling voice obeys;
Or from the field his wounded lord conveys.
Go, from the mountain fell the lofty pine,
Since all the forests on his brows are thine:
And Reason gives, thy labours to prepare,
The wedge and axe, the compasses and square,
Raise the tall maft, and rib the solid fides ;
Build the stout vessel, that with winds and tides
May seek the regions which the fea divides ;
Or steer thy course, where, by the frozen poles,
Leviathan upon the ocean rolls;
And the fierce fea-horfe sleeps on icy shoals,
Though he the rattling of thy shafts deride,
Though he be sovereign o'er the fons of Pride,
When from thy hand the piercing barb is thrown,
The monster trembles, though his heart be stone.
Wounded, he roars, and drags the lengthening line,
And, mingled with his blood, he spouts the brine;
Lahd by his ample tail, the frothy surges shine :