Or, march'd I chain'd behind the hoftile car,
The victor's paltime, and the fport of war,
Would one, would one his pitying forrow lend,
Or be fo poor to own he was my friend?
Avails it then, O Reafon, to be wife?
To fee this cruel fcene with quicker eyes?
To know with more diftinction to complain,
And have fuperior fenfe in feeling pain?
Let us revolve, that roll with strictest eye Where fafe from time diftinguish'd actions lie, And judge if greatness be exempt from pain, Or pleasure ever may with pow'r remain. Adam, great type, for whom the world was made, The fairest bleffing to his arms convey'd, A charming wife; and air, and fea, and land, And all that move therein, to his command Render'd obedient: fay, my pensive Mufe, What did thefe golden promifes produce? Scarce tafting life he was of joy bereav'd; One day I think in Paradife he liv'd, Deftin'd the next his journey to pursue Where wounding thorns and curfed thiftles grew. 360 Ere yet he earns his bread, adown his brow, Inclin'd to earth, his lab'ring fweat must flow; His limbs muft ach, with daily toils oppreft, Ere long-wifh'd night brings neceffary reft: Still viewing with regret his darling Eve, He for her follies and his own must grieve. Bewailing ftill afresh their hapless choice, His ear oft' frighted with the imag'd voice, Of Heav'n when firft it thunder'd, oft' his view, Aghaft, as when the infant lightning flew, And the ftern cherub ftopp'd the fatal road, Arm'd with the flames of an avenging God, His younger fon on the polluted ground, Firft fruit of death, lies plantive of a wound Giv'n by a brother's hand; his eldest birth Flies, nark'd by Heav'n, a fugitive o'er earth: Yet why these forrows heap'd upon the fire, Becomes nor man nor angel to inquire.
Each age finn'd on, and guilt advanc'd with time; The fon ftill added to the father's crime;
Till God arose, and, great in anger, faid,
Lo it repenteth me that man was made.
Withdraw thy light, thou Sun! be dark, ye Skies!
And from your deep abyfs, ye Waters, rife!
The frighted angels heard th' Almighty Lord,
And o'er the earth from wrathful viols pour'd
Tempefts and ftorm, obedient to his word.
Mean-time his providence to Noah gave
The guard of all that he defign'd to fave:
Exempt from g n'ral doom the patriarch stood,
Contemn'd the waves, and triumph'd o'er the flood.
The winds fall filent and the waves decrease;
The dove brings quiet, and the olive peace;
Yet ftill his heart does inward forrow feel,
Which faith alone forbids him to reveal.
If on the backward world his views are caft,
'Tis death diffus'd, and universal waste.
Prefent, (fad prospect !) can he ought descry
But (what affects his melancholy eye)
The beauties of the ancient fabric loft,
In chains of craggy hill, or lengths of dreary coaft ?
While to high heav'n his pious breathings turn'd,
Weeping he hop'd, and facrificing mourn'd;
When of God's image only eight be found
Snatch'd from the wat'ry grave, and fav'd from na-
tions drown'd;
And of three fons, the future hopes of earth,
The feed whence empires must receive their birth,
One he forefees excluded heav'nly grace,
And mark'd with curfes fatal to his race.
Abraham, potent prince, the friend of God,
Of human ills muft bear the deftin'd load,
By blood and battles muft his pow'r maintain,
And flay the monarchs ere he rules the plain;
Muft deal juft portions of a fervile life
To a proud handmaid and a peevith wife;
Muft with the mother leave the weeping fon,
In want to wander and in wilds to groan;
Muft take his other child, his age's hope,
To trembling Moriam's melancholy top,
Order'd to drench his knife in filial blood,
Destroy his heir, or difobey his God.
Mofes beheld that God; but how beheld
The Deity, in radiant beans conceal'd,
And clouded in a deep abyfs of light!
While prefent too fevere for human fight,
Nor ftaying longer than one fwift-wing'd night:
The following days, and months, and years, decreed
To fierce encounter, and to toilfome deed :
His youth with wants and hardships muít engage,
Plots and rebellions muft difturb his age:
Some Corah ftill arofe, fome rebel flave,
Prompter to fink the ftate than he to fave,
And Ifrael did his rage fo far provoke,
That what the Godhead wrote the prophet broke.
His voice fcarce heard, his dictates fcarce believ'd,
In camps, in arms, in pilgrimage, he liv'd,
And dy'd obedient to fevereft law,
Forbid to tread the Promis'd land he faw.
My father's life was one long line of care,
A fcene of danger and a state of war.
Alarm'd, expos'd his childhood muft engage
The bear's rough gripe and foaming lion's rage.
By various turns his threaten'd youth must fear
Goliath's lifted fword and Saul's emitted fpear.
Forlorn he must, and perfecuted, fly,
Climb the steep mountain, in the cavern lie,
And often afk, and be refus'd to die.
For ever from his manly toils are known
The weight of pow'r and anguish of a crown.
What tongue can fpeak the reftlefs monarch's woes,
When God and Nathan were declar'd his foes?
When ev'ry object his offence revil'd,
The husband murder'd and the wife defil'd,
The parent's fins imprefs'd upon the dying child!
What heart can think the grief which he fuftain'd, When the King's crime brought vengeance on the And the inexorable prophet's voice
Give famine, plague, or war, and bid him fix his choice?
He dy'd ; and, oh! may no reflection shed
Its pois nous venom on the royal dead :
Yet the unwilling truth must be exprest
Which long has labour'd in this penfive breast;
Dying he added to my weight of care;
He made me to his crimes undoubted heir;
Left his unfinish'd murder to his fon,
And Joab's blood entail'd on Judah's crown.
Young as I was, I hafted to fulfil
The cruel dictates of my parent's will:
Of his fair deeds a diftant view I took,
But turn'd the rube upon his faults to look ;
Forgot his youth spent in his country's cause,
His care of right, his rev'rence to the laws,
But could with joy his years of folly trace,
Broken and old in Bathsheba's embrace;
Could follow him where'er he stray'd from good, 475 And cite his fad example, whilft I trod
Paths open to deceit, and track'd with blood.
Soon docile to the fecret acts of ill,
With finiles I could betray, with temper kill
Soon in a brother could a rival view,
Watch all his acts, and all his ways purfue :
In vain for life he to the altar fled;
Ambition and Revenge have certain speed.
Ev'n there, my foul, ev'n there he fhould have fell,
But that my int'reft did my rage conceal :
Doubling my crime I promife and deceive,
Purpose to flay, whilft fwearing to forgive.
Treaties, perfuafions, fighs, and tears, are vain;
With a mean lie curs'd vengeance I sustain,
Join fraud to force, and policy to pow'r,
Till of the deftin'd fugitive fecure,
In folemn state to parricide I rife,
And, as God lives, this day my brother dies.
Be witnefs to my tears, celeftial Muse!
In vain I would forget, in vain excufe,
Fraternal blood by my direction spilt;
In vain on Joab's head transfer the guilt:
The deed was acted by the subject's hand,
The fword was pointed by the King's command:
Mine was the murder; it was mine alone :
Years of contrition must the crime atone;
Nor can my guilty foul expect relief
But from a long fincerity of grief.
With an imperfect hand and trembling heart,
Her love of truth fuperior to her art,
Already the reflecting Mufe has trac'd
The mournful figures of my actions past,
The penfive goddess has already taught
How vain is hope, and how vexatious thought;
From growing childhood to declining age,
How tedious ev'ry step, how gloomy ev'ry stage.
This courfe of vanity almost complete,
Tir'd in the field of life, I hope retreat
In the ftill fhades of death; for dread, and pain,
And grief, will find their fhafts elanc'd in vain, 515
And their points broke, retorted from the head,
Safe in the grave, and free among the dead.
Yet tell me, frighted reafon! what is death? Blood only stopp'd, and interrupted breath ? The utmoft limit of a narrow span, And end of mction, which with life began? As fmoke that rifes from the kindling fires Is feen this moment, and the next expires; As empty clouds by rifing winds are toft, Their fleeting forms fcarce fooner found than loft, 525 So vanishes our state, so pass our days. So life but opens now, and now decays; The cradle and the tomb, alas! fo nigh, To live is fcarce diftinguifh'd from to die.
Cure of the mifer's wifh and coward's fear, Death only fhews us what we knew was near. With courage therefore view the pointed hour, Dread not Death's anger, but expect his pow`r,
|