Reduce the fong: our hopes, our joys, are vain; Our lot is forrow; and our portion pain.
What pause from woe, what hopes of comfort bring
The name of wife 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 ease;
From the first blooming of his ill-taught youth,
Nourish'd in flattery, and eftrang'd from truth;
At home furrounded by a fervile croud,
Prompt to abuse, and in detraction loud;
Abroad begirt with men, and swords, and spears;
His very state acknowledging his fears;
Marching amidst a thousand guards, he fhews
His fecret terror of a thousand foes;
In war, however prudent, great, or brave,
To blind events and fickle chance a slave;
Seeking to fettle what for ever flies;
Sure of the toil, uncertain of the prize.
But he returns with conqueft on his brow;
Brings up the triumph, and abfolves the vow:
The captive generals to his car were ty'd;
The joyful citizens tumultuous tide,
Echoing his glory, gratify his pride.
What is this triumph? madness, shouts, and noise,
One great collection of the people's voice.
The wretches he brings back in chains relate
What may to-morrow be the victor's fate;
The spoils and trophies, borne before him, fhew 300
National lofs, and epidemic woe,
Various diftrefs, which he and his may know.
Does he not mourn the valiant thoufands 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 laurel which he wears,
Wet with the foldiers blood, and widows tears?
See, where he comes, the darling of the war!
See millions crouding round the gilded car!
In the vaft joys of this ecftatic hour,
And full fruition of fuccefsful power,
One moment and one thought might let him fcan
The various turns of Life, and fickle ftate of Man.
Are the dire images of fad diftruft,
And popular change, obfcur'd amid the duft
That rises from the victor's rapid wheel ?
Can the loud clarion or fhrill fife repel
The inward cries of care? can Nature's voice
Plaintive be drown'd or leffen'd in the noise;
Though fhouts of thunder loud afflict the air,
Stun the birds now releas'd, and shake the ivory chair? Yon' croud (he might reflect) yon' joyful croud,
Pleas'd with my honours, in my praises loud,
(Should fleeting victory to the vanquish'd go,
Should the deprefs 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 ftatues down,
And caft the brafs anew to his renown.
O impotent defire of worldly fway!
That I, who make the triumph of to-day,
May of to-morrow's pomp one part appear,
Ghaftly with wounds, and lifeless on the bier!
Then (vileness of mankind!) then of all these,
Whom my dilated eye with labour fees,
Would one, alas! repeat me good, or great,
Wash my pale body, or bewail my fate ?
Or, march'd I chain'd behind the hoftile car,
The victor's paftime, and the sport of war;
Would one, would one his pitying forrow lend,
Or be fo poor, to own he was my friend?
Avails it then, O Reason, to be wife;
To fee this cruel scene with quicker eyes ;
To know with more diftinction to complain,
And have fuperior fenfe in feeling pain?
Let us revolve that roll with stricteft eye,
Where fafe from Time diftinguish'd actions lie;
And judge if greatnefs be exempt from pain,
Or pleasure ever may with power remain.
Adam, great type, for whom the world was made,
The faireft blefling to his arms convey'd,
A charming wife; and air, and fea, and land,
And all that move therein to his command
Ren ler'd obedient: fay, my penfive 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;
VOL. II.
N
Destin'd the next his journey to purfue,
Where wounding thorns and curfed thiftles grew. 360
Ere yet he earns his bread, a-down his brow,
Inclin'd to earth, his labouring sweat must flow;
His limbs muft ake, with daily toils opprefs'd,
Ere long-wifh'd night brings necessary rest.
Still viewing with regret his darling Eve,
He for her follies and his own must grieve;
Bewailing ftill afrefh their hapless choice;
His car oft' frighted with the imag'd voice
Of Heaven, when first it thunder'd; oft' his view
Aghaft, as when the infant lightning flew,
And the ftern Cherub stopp'd the fatal road,
Arm'd with the flames of an avenging God.
His younger fon on the polluted ground,
First-fruit of death, lies plaintive of a wound
Given by a brother's hand: his eldest birth
Flies, mark'd by Heaven, a fugitive o'er earth.
Yet why thefe forrows heap'd upon the Sire,
Becomes nor Man, nor Angel, to enquire.
Each age finn'd on; and Guilt advanc'd with Time:
The fon ftill added to the father's crime;
Till God arofe, and, great in anger, said,
Lo! it repenteth me, that Man was made!
Withdraw thy light, thou Sun! be dark, ye Skies!
And from your deep abyss, ye Waters, rise !
The frighted Angels heard th' Almighty Lord';
And o'er the earth from wrathful viols pour'd
Tempefts and storms, obedient to his word.
Mean time, his Providence to Noah gave
The guard of all that he defign'd to save.
Exempt from general 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 univerfal waste.
Prefent (fad profpect!) can he aught defcry,
But (what affects his melancholy eye)
The beauties of the antient fabric loft,
In chains of craggy hill, or lengths of dreary coaft?
While, to high Heaven his pious breathings turn'd,
Weeping he hop'd, and facrificing mourn'd;
When of God's image only eight he found
Snatch'd from the watery grave, and fav'd from nations drown'd;
And of three fons, the future hopes of Earth,
The feed whence empires muft receive their birth,
One he forefces excluded heavenly grace,
And mark'd with curfes, fatal to his race!
Abraham, potent prince, the friend of God,
Of human ills must bear the deftin'd load;
By blood and battles muft his power maintain,
And flay the monarchs ere he rules the plain;
Muft deal juft portions of a fervile life
To a proud handmaid and a peevish wife;
N 2
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