תמונות בעמוד

* Yet in thy turn, thou frowning preacher, hear: " Are not chefe general maxims too fevere?

Say : cannot pow'r secure its owner bliss ? H And is not wealth che potent fire of peace?

Are victors bleft with fame, or kings with ease?

I tell thee. life is but one common care ; And man was born to suffer and to fear.

“ But is no rank, no ftation, no degree " From this contagious taint of sorrow free?"**..

None, mortal, nonc: yet in a bolder strain Let me this melancholy truth maintain: But hence, ye wordly, and prophane, retire : For I adapt my voice, and raise my lyre To notions, not by vulgar ear receiv'd: Ye still must covet life, and be deceiv'd :Your very fear of death should make ye try To catch the shade of immortality; Wishing on earth to linger, and to save Part of its prey from the devouring grave; To those who may survive ye, to bequeath Something entire, in spite of time and death; A fancy'd kind of being to retrieve, And in a book, or from a building live. False hope! vain labour ! let fome ages fly: The dome shall moulder, and the volume die : Wretches, still taught, still will ye think it ftrange, That all the parts of this great fabric change ; Quit their old ftation, and primaeval frame; And lose their laape, their effences, and their name?

Reduce the song : our hopes, our joys are vain: Our lot is sorrow; and our portion pain.

What pause from woe, what hopes of comfort bring The name of wise or great, of judge or king ? What is a king, a man condemn'd to bear The public burden of the nation's care ; Now crown'd, fome angry faction to appease ; Now falls a victim to the people's eafe : From the first blooming of his ill-taught youth, Nourish'd in flate'ry, and estrang'd from truth : At bome furrounded by a servile croud, Prompt to abuse, and in detraction loud : Abroad begirt with men, and (words, and (pears', His very state acknowledging his fears : Marching amidst a thousand-guards, he shows His secret terror of a thousand foes : In war however prudent, great, or brave, To blind events, and fickle chance a llave :Seeking to settle what for ever fiies ; Sure of the toil, uncertain of the prize.

But he returns with conquest on his brow;
Brings up the triumph, and absolves the vow :
The captive gen'rals to his car are tyd :
The joyful citizens tumultuous tide
Echoing his glory, gratify his pride.
What is this triumph madness, fhouts and noises
One great collection of the people's voice.
The wretches he brings back, in chains relate,

may to-morrow be the viĉtor's fate.
The spoils and tropbies barn before him, show
National. lofs, and epidemic woe,
Various distressg..which he and his may know.


Does hs not mourn the valiant thousands flain ;
The heroes, once the glory of the plain,
Left in the conflict of the fatal day,
Or the wolf's portion, or the vulture's prey ?
Does he not weep the lawrel, which he wears,
Wet with the soldier's blood, and widow's, tears?

See, where he comes, the darling of the war!
See millions crouding round the gilded car:
In the vast joys of this exftatic hour,
And full fruition of successful pow'r,
One moment and one thought might let bim fcan
The various turns of life, and fickle (tate of man.

Are the dire images of fad distrust, And populac change, obscur'd amid the dust, That rises from the victor's rapid wheel ? Can the loud clarion, or thrill fife repel The inward cries of care? can nature's voicePlaintive be drown'd, or leffen'd in the noise ; Though fhouts as thunder loud afflict the air, Stun the birds now releas'd, and shake the iv'ry chair?

Yon'croud (he might reflect) yon' joyful crowd,
Pleas'd with my honours, in my praises loud
(Should fleeting victory to the vanquish'd go;
Should she depress my arms, and raise the foe)
Would for that foe with equal ardour wait
At the high palace, or the crouded gate ;
With restless rage would pull, my.statuos downs
And cal the brass a new to his renown.

O impotent desire of worldly sway!
That I, who make the triumph of to-day:
May. of to, morrow's pomp, one part, appearos ..
Ghaftly with wounds, and lifeless on the bierki

Then (vileness of mankind !) then of all theft,
Whom my dilated eye with labour fees,
Would one, alas! repeat me good, or great,
Wash my pale body, or bewait my fate?
Or, march'd I chain'd behind the hostile car,
The victor's pastime, and the sport of war ;
Would one, would one his pirying forrow lendo
Or be so poor, to own he was my friend?
Avails it then, Reason, to be wife?
To see this cruel scene with quicker eyes ?
To know with more distinction to complain,
And have fuperior fense in feeling pain?

Let us revolve that roll with stricteft eye,
Where safe from time diftinguish'd actions lie;,
And judge is greatness be exempt from pain,
Or pleasure ever may with pow'r remain.

Adam, great type, for whom the world was made, The fairest blessing to his arm's convey'd, A charming wife, and air, and fea, and land, And all that more therein to his command Render'd obedient : say, my pensive muse, What did these golden promises produce ? Scarce tasting life, he was of joy bercavid : One day, I think, in Paradise he liv'd : Defind the next his jonrney to pursue, Where wounding thorns, and cursed thistles grew. L'er yet he earns his bread, adown his brow, Inclin'd to earth, his lab'ring sweat must flow : His limbs muft ake, with daily coils opprest; E’er long-with'd night brings necessary rest : Still viewing with regret his darling Eve, He fos hec follies, and his own must grieve.

Bewailing Atill a-fresh their hapless choice ;
His ear oft frighted with the imag'd voice
Of Heav'n, when first it thunder'd; oft his view
Aghast, as when the infant light'ning flew.;
And the stern Cherubs stop'd the fatal road,
Arm'd with the flames of an avenging God.
His younger son on the polluted ground,
First fruit of death, lies plaintiff of a wound
Giv'n by a brother's hand : his eldest birth
Flies, mark'd by Heav'n, a fugitive o'er earth.
Yet why these sorrows heap'd upon the fire,
Becomes not man, nor angels to enquire.
Each age finn'd on; and guilt advanc'd with time:
The fon fill added to the father's crime,
Till God arose, and great in anger faid :
Lo! it repenteth me, that man was made.
Withdraw the light, thou fun! be dark, ye skies!
And from your deep abyss, ye waters, rise !

The frighted angels heard the Almighty Lord;
And o'er the earth from wrathful viols pour'd
Tempest and storm, obedient to his word.
Mean time, his providence to Noah gave
The guard of all, that he design'd to fave.
Exempt from gen'ral doom the patriarch stood.;
Contemn'd the waves, and triumph'd o'er the flood,
The winds fall silent, and the waves decrease :
The dove brings quiet, and the olive peace:
Yet still his heart does inward sorrow feel,
Which faith alone forbids him to reveal.
If on the backward world his views are calt;
Sis death diffus'd, and universal waste.

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