« הקודםהמשך »
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.
Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before:
To give thee what politer France receives
Was registered in Heaven ere time began. From nature's bounty-that humane address We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works And sweetness, without which no pleasure is Die too: the deep foundations that we lay, In converse, either starved by cold reserve,
Time ploughs them up, and not a trace remains. Or flushed with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl. We build with what we deem eternal rock: Yet being free I love thee: for the sake
A distant age asks where the fabric stood;
And in the dust, sifted and searched in vain,
He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain, That it belongs to freemen, would disgust
That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, And shock me. I should then with double pain
Can wind around him, but he casts it off Feel all the rigour of thy fickle clime;
With as much ease as Samson his green withes, And, if I must bewail the blessing lost,
He looks abroad into the varied field For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled,
Of nature, and though poor perhaps, compared I would at least bewail it under skies
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel, And tremble at vain dreams? Heaven grant I may!
But who, with filial confidence inspired, But the age of virtuous politics is past,
Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And we are deep in that of cold pretence.
And smiling say—" My Father made them all!" Patriots are grown too sltrewd to be sincere,
Are they not his by a peculiar right, And we too wise to trust them. He that takes And by an emphasis of interest his, Deep in his soft credulity the stamp
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Designed by loud declaimers on the part
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind Of liberty, themselves the slaves of lust,
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love, Incurs derision for his easy faith,
That planned, and built, and still upholds, a world And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough:
So clothed with beauty for rebellious man?
Yes-ye may fill your garners, ye that reap
In feast or in the chase, in song or dance,
A liberty like bis, who, unimpeached Who slights the charities, for whose dear sake Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong, That country, if at all, must be beloved ?
Appropriates nature as his Father's work, "Tis therefore sober and good men are sad And has a richer use of yours than you. For England's glory, seeing it wax pale
He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth And sickly, while her champions wear their hearts Of no mean city: planned or ere the hills So loose to private duty, that no brain,
Were built, the fountains opened, or the sea Healthful and undisturbed by factious fumes, With all his roaring multitude of waves. Can dream them trusty to the general weal.
His freedom is the same in every state;
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less:
For he has wings, that neither sickness, pain,
Nor pepury, can cripple or confine. Shone brighter still, once called to public view.
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there
With "Tis therefore many, whose sequestered lot
and is at large. The oppressor
His body bound; but knows not what a range Forbids their interference, looking on,
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt
Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste
His works. Admitted once to his embrace,
Thine eye shall be instructed; and thine heart
So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth shall relish, with divine delight pure Till then unselt, what hands divine have wrought. Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious word! Brutes the mountain-top, with faces prone Which whoso sees no longer wanders lost,
graze And eyes intent upon the scanty herb
With intellects bemazed in endless doubt, It yields them: or recumbent on its brow
But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built Ruminate heedless of the scene outspread
that were not till by thee employed, Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away
Worlds that had never been hadst thou in strength From inland regions to the distant main.
Been less, or less benevolent than strong.
In vain thy creatures testify of thee,
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn,
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain Not for its own sake merely, but for his
Possess the heart, and fables false as hell; Much more, who fashioned it, he gives it praise ; Yet, deemed oracular, lure down to death Praise that from earth resulting, as it ought,
The quinformed and heedless souls of men.
The glory of thy work; which yet appears
Challenging human scrutiny, and proved
Thy providence forbids that fickle power A ray of heavenly light, gilding all forms
(If power she be that works but to confound) Terrestrial in the vast and the minute;
To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws, The unambiguous footsteps of the God,
Yet thus we dote, refusing while we can Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing,
Instruction, and inventing to ourselves
Amused spectators of this bustling stage.
Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure,
Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause To gratulate the new-created earth,
For which we shunned and hated thee before. Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of God
Then we are free. Then liberty, like day, Shouted for joy.—" Tell me, ye shining hosts,
Breaks on the sou and by a flash from Heaven That navigate a sea that knows no storms,
Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud,
A voice is heard, that mortal ears hear not If from your elevation, whence ye view
Till thou hast touched them; 'tis the voice of song, Distinctly scenes invisible to man,
A loud hosanna sent from all thy works; And systems, of whose birth no tidings yet
Which he that hears it with a shout repeats, Have reached this nether world, ye spy a race
And adds his rapture to the general praise. Favoured as ours; transgressors from the womb,
In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide And hasting to a grave, yet doomed to rise, Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile And to possess a brighter heaven than yours?
The author of her beauties, who, retired As one, who long detained on foreign shores, Behind his own creation, works unseen Pants to return, and when he sees afar
By the impure, and hears his power denied. His country's weather-bleached and battered rocks, Thou art the source, and centre of all minds, From the green wave emerging, darts an eye Their only point of rest, eternal Word! Radiant with joy towards the happy land;
From thee departing they are lost, and rove
At random without honour, hope, or peace.
His high endeavour, and his glad success,
But oh, thou bounteous giver of all good,
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown!
Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor;
And lanes, in which the primrose ere her time (root,
What prodigies can power divine perform
The regular return of genial months,
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON.
And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue
recor There is in souls a sympathy with sounds,
Without a cloud, and white without a speck And as the mind is pitched the ear is pleased
The dazzling splendour of the scene below. With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave;
Again the harmony comes o'er the vale; Some chord in unison with what we hear
And through the trees I view the embattled tower, Is touched within us, and the heart replies.
Whence all the music. I again perceive How soft the music of those village bells,
The soothing influence of the wafted strains, Falling at intervals upon the ear
And settle in soft musings as I tread In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
The walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms, Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Whose outspread branches overarch the glade. Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
The roof, though moveable through all its length With easy force it opens all the cells
As the wind sways it, has yet well sufficed, Where memory slept. Wherever I have heard And intercepting in their silent fall
Inicht A kindred melody, the scene recurs,
The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. And with it all its pleasures and its pains.
No noise is here, or none that binders thought. Such comprehensive views the spirit takes,
The redbreast warbles still, but is content That in a few short moments I retrace
With slender notes, and more than half suppressed: (As in a map the voyager his course)
Pleased with his solitude, and fitting light The windings of my way through many years.
From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes Short as in retrospect the journey seems,
From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, It seemed not alway short; the rugged path,
That tinkle in the withered leaves below. And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn,
Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Moved many a sigh at its disheartening length. Charms more than silence. Meditation here Yet feeling present evils, while the past
May think down hours to moments. Here the heart Faintly impress the mind, or rot at all,
May give an useful lesson to the head,
And learning wiser grow without his books.
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass,
Till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place,
Does but incumber whom it seems to enrich. And utter now and then an awful voice,
Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much; But had a blessing in its darkest frown,
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. Threatening at once and nourishing the plant.
Books are not seldom talismans and spells, We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand,
By which the magic art of shrewder wits That reared us. At a thoughtless age, allured
Holds an unthinking multitude enthralled. By every gilded folly, we renounced
Some to the fascination of a name His sheltering side, and wilfully forewent
Surrender judgment, hood-winked. Some the style That converse, which we now in vain regret.
Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds How gladly would the man recall to life
Of error leads them by a tune entranced. The boy's neglected sire! a mother too,
While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear
The insupportable fatigue of thought,
Fru And, seeking grace to improve the prize they hold,
12 Would urge a wiser suit than asking more. The night was winter in his roughest mood;
Th The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon
A Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The season smiles, resigning all its rage,
And swallowing therefore without pause or choice
Not shy, as in the world, and to be won
And all in sight of inattentive man?
And renovation of a faded world,
The beauties of the wilderness are his, see nought to wonder at. Should God again, That make so gay the solitary place Is once in Gibeon, interrupt the race
Where no eye sees them. And the fairer forms, )f the undeviating and punctual sun,
That cultivation glories in, are his. low would the world admire! but speaks it less He sets the bright procession on its way, in agency divine, to make him know
And marshals all the order of the year; lis moment when to sink and when to rise,
He marks the bounds, which winter may not pass, age after age, than to arrest his course?
And blunts his pointed fury; in its case, ill we behold is miracle ; but seen
Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ, o duly all is miracle in vain.
Uninjured, with inimitable art; Vhere now the vital energy that moved,
And, ere one flowery season fades and dies, Vhile summer was, the pure and subile lymph Designs the blooming wonders of the next. Through the imperceptible meandering veins
Some say that in the origin of things, Of leaf and flower? It sleeps; and the icy touch When all creation started into birth, f unprolific winter has impressed
The infant elements received a law, I cold stagnation on the intestine tide.
From which they swerve not since. That under force But let the months go round, a few short months, Of that controlling ordinance they move, ind all shall be restored. These naked shoots, And need not his immediate hand, who first Barren as lances, among which the wind
Prescribed their course, to regulate it now. Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes,
Thus dream they, and contrive to save a God jhall put their graceful foliage on again,
The incumbrance of his own concerns, and spare Ind more aspiring, and with ampler spread, (lost. The great artificer of all that moves shall boast new charms, and more than they have The stress of a continual act, the pain Chen, each in its peculiar honours clad,
Of unremitted vigilance and care, shall publish even to the distant eye
As too laborious and severe a task. ts family and tribe. Laburnum, rich
So man, the moth, is not afraid, it seems, 11 streaming gold; syringa, ivory pure;
To span omnipotence, and measure might, The scentless and the scented rose; this red, That knows no measure, by the scanty rule And of an humbler growth, the other tall,
And standard of his own, that is to-day, And throwing up into the darkest gloom
And is not ere to-morrow's sun go down.
Dull as it is, and satisfy a law
To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force, Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set And under pressure of some conscious cause? With purple spikes pyramidal, as if
The Lord of all, himself through all diffused, Studious of ornament, yet unresolved
Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. Which hue she most approved, she chose them all; Nature is but a name for an effect, Copious of flowers the wocdbine, pale and wan, Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire, But well compensating her sickly looks
By which the mighty process is maintained, With never-cloying odours, early and late;
Who sleeps not, is not weary; in whose sight Hypericum all bloom, so thick a swarm
Slow circling ages are as transient days; Of Howers, like flies clothing her slender rods, Whose work is without labour; whose designs That scarce a leaf appears; mezerion too,
No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts: Though leafless, well attired, and thick beset And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. With blushing wreaths, investing every spray; Him blind antiquity profaned, not served, Althæa with the purple eye; the broom,
With self-taught rites, and under various names, Yellow and bright, as bullion unalloyed,
Female and male, Pomona, Pales, Pan, Her blossoms; and luxuriant above all
And Flora, and Vertumnus; peopling earth The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant sweets, With tutelary goddesses and gods, The deep dark green of whose unvarnished leaf That were not; and commending as they would Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more To each some province, garden, field, or grove. The bright profusion of her scattered stars.
But all are under one. One spirit-His, These have been, and these shall be in their day; Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows, And all this uniform and coloured scene
Rules universal nature. Not a flower Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load,
But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, And flush into variety again.
Of his unrivalled pencil. He inspires From dearth to plenty, and from death to life, Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man
And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes, In heavenly truth; evincing, as she makes
In grains as countless as the sea-side sands, The grand transition, that there lives and works The forms, with which he sprinkles all the earth. A soul in all things, and that soul is God.
Happy who walks with him! whom what he finds
Worms wird theinselves into our sweetest flowers;
From touch of human lips, at best impure.
Of flavour or of scent in fruit or flower,
Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon Or what he views of beautiful or grand
Together, or all gambol in the shade
Of the same grove, and drink one common stream.
Lurks in the serpent now: the mother sees,
Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm, Is dreary, so with him all seasons please.
To stroke his azure neck, or to receive Though winter had been none, had mau been true,
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. And earth be punished for its tenant's sake,
All creatures worship man, and all mankind Yet not in vengeance: as this smiling sky,
One Lord, one Father. Error has no place:
That creeping pestilence is driven away;
No passion touches a discordant string,
Is not; the pure and uncontaminate blood
Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. The groans of nature in this nether world,
One song employs all nations; and all cry, Which Heaven has heard for ages, have an end. • Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us!" Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung,
The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' Jamp,
Shout to each other, and the mountain tops The time of rest, the promised sabbath, comes. From distant mountains catch the flying joy; Six thousand years of sorrow have well-nigh Till nation after nation taught the strain, Fulfilled their tardy and disastrous course
Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round. Over a sinful world; and what remains
Benold the measure of the promise filled; Of this tempestuous state of human things,
See Salem built, the labour of a God! Is merely as the working of a sea
Bright as a sun the sacred city shines; Before a calm, that rocks itself to rest :
All kingdoms and all princes of the earth For He, whose car the winds are, and the clouds Flock to that light; the glory of all lands The dust, that waits upon his sultry march,
Flows into her; unbounded is her joy, When sin hath moved him, and his wrath is hot, And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, Shall visit earth in mercy; sball descend
Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there; Propitious in his chariot paved with love;
The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, And what his storms have blasted and defaced And Saba's spicy groves, pay tribute there. For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair.
Praise is in all her gates: upon her walls, Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet And in her streets, and in her spacious courts, Not to be wronged by a mere mortal touch:
Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there Nor can the wonders it records be sung
Kneels with the native of the farthest west; To meaner music, and not suffer loss.
And Æthiopia spreads abroad the hand, But when a poet, or when one like me,
And worships. Her report has travelled forth Happy to rove among poetic flowers,
Into all lands. From every clime they come Though poor in skill 10 rear them, lights at last
To see thy beauty and to share thy joy.
O Sion! an assembly such as earth
Oh scenes surpassing fable, and yet true,
Saw never, such as Heaven stoops down to see.
Thus heavenward all things tend. For all were
some poor heart
And ev'n the joy, that haply