AN ODE IN IMITATION OF CASIMIRE.
COULD mournful sighs, or floods of tears, prevent
The ills, unhappy men lament:
Could all the anguish of my mind
Remove my cares, or make but Fortune kind;
Soon I'd the grateful tribute pay,
And weep my troubled thoughts away:
To wealth and pleasure every sigh prefer,
And more than gems esteem each falling tear.
But, since insulting cares are most inclin'd
To triumph o'er th' afflicted mind;
Since sighs can yield us no relief,
And tears, like fruitful showers, but nourish grief;
Then cease, fair mourner, to complain,
Nor lavish such bright streams in vain,
But still with chearful thoughts thy cares beguile,
And tempt thy better fortunes with a smile.
The generous mind is by its sufferings known,
Which no affliction tramples down;
But when oppress'd will upward move,
Spurn down its clog of cares, and soar above.
Thus the young royal eagle tries
On the sun-beams his tender eyes,
And, if he shrinks not at th' offensive light,
He's then for empire fit, and takes his soaring flight,
Though cares assault thy breast on every side,
Yet bravely stem th' impetuous tide:
No tributary tears to Fortune pay,
Nor add to any loss a nobler day;
But with kind hopes support thy mind, And think thy better lot behind: Amidst afflictions let thy soul be great, And show thou dar'st deserve a better state. Then, lovely mourner, wipe those tears away, And cares that urge thee to decay; Like ravenous Age thy charms they waste, Wrinkle thy youthful brow, and blooming beauties But keep thy looks and mind serene, All gay without, all calm within; For Fate is aw'd, and adverse Fortunes fly A chearful look, and an unconquer'd eye.
PARENT of Day! whose beauteous beams of light
Spring from the darksome womb of Night,
And midst their native horrours show,
Like gems adorning of the Negro's brow:
Not Heav'n's fair bow can equal thee,
In all its gaudy drapery;
Thou first essay of light, and pledge of day!
That usher'st in the Sun, and still prepar'st its way.
Rival of Shade, eternal spring of light!
Thou art the genuine source of it:
From thy bright unexhausted womb,
The beauteous race of Days and Seasons come.
Thy beauty ages cannot wrong,
But, spight of Time, thou 'rt ever young:
Thou art alone Heaven's modest virgin Light,
Whose face a veil of blushes hides from human sight.
Like some fair bride thou risest from thy bed,
And dost around thy lustre spread;
Around the universe dispense
New life to all, and quickening influence.
With gloomy smiles thy rival Night
Beholds thy glorious dawn of light:
Not all the wealth she views in mines below
Can match thy brighter beams, or equal lustre show.
At thy approach, Nature erects her bead,
The smiling Universe is glad;
The drowsy Earth and Seas awake,
And from thy beams, new life and vigour take:
When thy more chearful rays appear,
Ev'n Guilt and women cease to fear:
Horrour, Despair, and all the sons of Night
Retire before thy beams, and take their hasty flight.
To thee, the grateful East their altars raise,
And sing with early hymns thy praise;
Thou dost their happy soil bestow,
Enrich the Heavens above, and Earth below:
Thou risest in the fragrant East,
Like the fair Phoenix from her balmy nest:
No altar of the gods can equal thine,
The Air's thy richest incense, the whole land thy
But yet thy fading glories soon decay.
Thine 's but a momentary stay;
Too soon thou 'rt ravish'd from our sight,
Borne down the stream of day, and overwhelm'd with
Thy beams to their own ruin haste,
They 're fram'd too exquisite to last:
Thine is a glorious, but a short-liv'd state.
Pity so fair a birth should yield so soon to Fate!
Before th' Almighty Artist fram'd the sky,
Or gave the Earth its harmony,
His first command was for thy light:
He view'd the lovely birth, and blessed it:
In purple swaddling-bands it struggling lay,
Not yet maturely bright for day:
Old Chaos then a chearful smile put on,
Involv'd in thee, we first receive our breath,
Thou art our refuge too in death,
Great monarch of the grave and womb, [come.
Where-e'er our souls shall go, to thee our bodies
The silent Globe is struck with awful fear,
When thy majestic shades appear:
Thou dost compose the Air and Sea,
And Earth a sabbath keeps, sacred to Rest and thee.
In thy serener shades our ghosts delight,
And court the umbrage of the Night;
But fly the Morning's beams, and sicken at the Day.
In vaults and gloomy caves they stray,
Though solid bodies dare exclude the light,
Nor will the brightest ray admit;
No substance can thy force repel,
Thou reign'st in depths below, dost in the centre dwell.
The sparkling gems, and ore in mines below,
To thee their beauteous lustre owe;
Though form'd within the womb of Night,
Bright as their sire they shine, with native rays oflight.
When thou dost raise thy venerable head,
And art in genuine Night array'd.
Thy Negro beauties then delight; [bright.
Beauties, like polish'd jet, with their own darkness
Thou dost thy smiles impartially bestow,
And know'st no difference here below:
All things appear the same by thee,
Though Light distinction makes, thou giv'st equality.
Thou, Darkness, art the lover's kind retreat,
And dost the nuptial joys compleat;
Thou dost inspire them with thy shade, [maid.
Giv'st vigour to the youth, and warm'st the yielding
And, from thy beauteous form, did first presage its Calm as the bless'd above the anchorites dwel!,
"Let there be Light!" the great Creator said,
His word the active child obey'd:
Night did her teeming womb disclose;
Within their peaceful gloomy cell.
Their minds with heavenly joys are fill'd ;
The pleasures Light deny, thy shades for ever yield.
And then the blushing Morn, its brightest offspring, In caves of Night, the oracles of old
Awhile th' Almighty wondering view'd, [rose.
And then himself pronounc'd it good:
"With Night," said he, "divide th' imperial sway;
Thon my first labour art, and thou shalt bless the
Day"
DARKNESS, thou first great parent of us all,
Thou art our great original:
Since from thy universal womb
Did all their mysteries unfold:
Darkness did first Religion grace,
Gave terrours to the God, and reverence to the place.
When the Almighty did on Horeb stand,
Thy shades enclos'd the hallow'd land:
In clouds of Night he was array'd,
And venerable Darkness his pavilion made.
When he appear'd arm'd in his power and might,
He veil'd the beatific Light;
When terrible with majesty,
In tempests he gave laws, and clad himself in thee.
Ere the foundation of the Earth was laid,
Or brighter firmament was made;
Ere matter, time, or place, was known,
Does all thou shad'st below, thy numerous offspring, Thou, monarch Darkness, sway'dst these spacious
Thy wondrous birth is ev'n to Time unknown,
Or, like Eternity, thou 'dst none;
Whilst Light did its first being owe
Unto that awful shade it dares to rival now.
Say, in what distant region dost thou dwell,
To reason inaccessible?
From form and duller matter free,
Thou soar'st above the reach of man's philosophy.
But, now the Moon (though gay with borrow'd light)
Invades thy scanty lot of Night,
By rebel subjects thou 'rt betray'd,
The anarchy of Stars depose their monarch Shade.
Yet fading Light its empire must resign,
And Nature's power submit to thine:
An universal ruin shall erect thy throne,
And Fate confirm thy kingdom evermore thy own.
SUPPOSED TO BE SPOKEN BY AN EPICURE.
IMITATION OF THE SECOND CHAPTER OF THE
THEN will penurious Heaven no more allow?
No more on its own darling Man bestow?
Is it for this he lord of all appears,
And his great Maker's image bears?
To toil beneath a wretched state,
Oppress'd with miseries and fate;
Beneath his painful burthen groan,
And in this beaten road of life drudge on!
Amidst our labours, we possess
No kind allays of happiness:
No softening joys can call our own,
To make this bitter drug go down;
Whilst Death an easy conquest gains,
And the insatiate Grave in endless triumph reigns.
With throes and pangs into the world we come,
The curse and burthen of the womb :
Nor wretched to ourselves alone,
Our mothers' labours introduce our own.
In cries and tears our infancy we waste,
Those sad prophetic tears, that flow
By instinct of our future woe:
And even our dawn of life with sorrows overcast.
Thus we toil out a restless age,
Each his laborious part must have,
Down from the monarch to the slave,
The soul th' immortal part we boast,
In one consuming minute 's lost;
To its first source it must repair,
Scatter with winds, and flow with common air.
Whilst the fall'n body, by a swift decay,
Resolves into its native clay :
For dust and ashes are its second birth,
And that incorporates too with its great parent, Farth
Nor shall our names our memories survive,
Alas, no part of man can live!
The empty blasts of fame shall die,
And even those nothings taste mortality.
In vain to future ages we transmit
Heroic acts, and monuments of wit:
In vain we dear-bought honours leave,
To make our ashes gay, and furnish out a grave.
Ah, treacherous Immortality!
For thee our stock of youth we waste,
And urge on life, that ebbs too fast,
To purchase thee with blood, the valiant fly; And, to survive in fame, the great and glorious die. Lavish of life, they squander this estate,
And for a poor reversion wait:
Bankrupts and misers to themselves they grow,
Embitter wretched life with toils and woe, [how.
To hoard up endless fame, they know not where or
Ah, think, my friends, how swift the minutes haste!
The present day entirely is our own
Then sieze the blessing ere 'tis gone :
To-morrow, fatal sound! since this may be our last,
Why do we boast of years, and sum up days!
"Tis all imaginary space :
To-day, to-day, is our inheritance,
'Tis all penurious Fate will give
Posterity 'll to-morrow live,
Act o'er this farce of life, then drop beneath the stage. Our sons crowd on behind, our children drive us
From our first drawing vital breath,
From our first starting from the womb,
Until we reach the destin'd tomb,
We all are posting on to the dark goal of death.
Life, like a cloud that fleets before the wind,
No mark, no kind impression, leaves behind,
'Tis scattered like the winds that blow,
Boisterous as them, full as inconstant too,
That know not whence they come, nor where they
Here we're detain'd a while, and then
Become originals again :
Time shall a man to his first self restore,
And make him entire nothing, all he was before.
No part of us, no remnant, shall survive!
And yet we impudently say, we live!
No! we but ebb into ourselves again,
And only come to be, as we had never been.
Say, learned Sage, thou that art mighty wise!
Unriddle me these mysteries;
What is the soul, the vital heat,
That our mean frame does animate?
What is our breath, the breath of man,
That buoys his nature up, and does ev'n life sustain ?
Is it not air, an empty fume,
A fire that does itself consume;
A warmth that in a heart is bred,
A lambent flame with heat and motion fed?
Extinguish that, the whole is gone,
This boasted scene of life is done :
Away the phantom takes its flight,
With garlands then your temples crown,
And lie on beds of roses down:
Beds of roses we'll prepare,
Roses that our emblems are;
A while they flourish on the bough,
And drink large draughts of heavenly dew:
Like us they smile, are young and gay,
And, like us too, are tenants for a day, [away.
Since with Night's blasting breath they vanish swift
Bring cheerful wine, and costly sweets prepare:
'Tis more than frenzy now to spare:
Let cares and business wait a while;
Old age affords a thinking interval:
Or, if they must a longer hearing have,
Bid them attend below, adjourn into the grave.
Then gay and sprightly wine produce,
Wines that wit and mirth infuse:
That feed, like oil, th' expiring flame, [frame.
Revive our drooping souls, and prop this tottering
That, when the grave our bodies has engross'd,
When virtues shall forgotten lie,
With all their boasted piety,
Honours and titles, like ourselves, be lost;
Then our recorded vice shall flourish on,
And our immortal riots be for ever known.
This, this, is what we ought to do,
The great design, the grand affair below!
Since bounteous Nature's plac'd our steward here,
Then man his grandeur should maintain,
And in excess of pleasure reign,
Damn'd to a loathsome grave, and an eternal night. Keep up his character, and lord of all appear.
VOL. XI.
AGAINST ENJOYMENT.
We love and hate, as restless monarchs fight,
Who boldly dare invade another's right :
Yet, when through all the dangerous toils they've ran,
Ignobly quit the conquests they have won ;
Those charming hopes, that made them valiant grow,
Pall'd with enjoyment, make them cowards now.
Our passions only form our happiness,
Hopes still enlarge, as fears contract it less:
Hope with a gaudy prospect feeds the eye,
Sooths every sense, does with each wish comply;
But false Enjoyment the kind guide destroys,
We lose the passion in the treacherous joys.
Like the gay silk-worm, when it pleases most,
In that ungrateful web it spun, 'tis lost.
Fruition only cloys the appetite; More does the conquest, than the prize delight: One victory gain'd, another fills the mind, Our restless wishes cannot be confin'd. Like boisterous waves, no settled bounds they know, Fix'd at no point, but always ebb or flow.
Who most expects, enjoys the pleasure most, "Tis rais'd by wishes, by fruition lost : We 're charm'd with distant views of happiness, But near approaches make the prospect less. Wishes, like painted landscapes, best delight, Whilst distance recommends them to the sight: Plac'd afar off, they beautiful appear; But show their coarse and nauseous colours, near.
Thus the fam'd Midas, when he found his store Increasing still, and would admit of more, With eager arms his swelling bags he press'd; And expectation only made him bless'd: But, when a boundless treasure he enjoy'd, And every wish was with fruition cloy'd : Then, damn'd to heaps, and surfeited with ore, He curs'd that gold he doated on before.
ISAIAH, CHAP. XIII. PARAPHRASED.
Now let the fatal banner be display'd !
Upon some lofty mountain's top
Go set the dreadful standard up!
And all around the hills the bloody signals spread.
For, lo, the numerous hosts of Heaven appear!
Th' embattled legions of the sky,
With all their dread artillery,
Draw forth in bright array, and muster in the air.
Why do the mountains tremble with the noise,
And vallies echo back their voice?
The hills tumultuous grow and loud,
The hills that groan beneath the gathering multitude.
Wide as the poles of Heaven's extent,
So far's the dreadful summons sent :
Kingdoms and nations at his call appear,
For even the Lord of Hosts commands in person there.
Start from thy lethargy, thou drowsy land,
Awake, and hear his dread command! Thy black tempestuous day comes lowering on, O fatal light! O inauspicious hour!
Was ever such a day before!
So stain'd with blood, by marks of vengeance known,
Nature shall from her steady course remove,
The well-fix'd Earth be from its basis rent,
Convulsions shake the firmament;
Horrour seize all below, confusion reign above.
The stars of Heaven shall sicken at the sight,
Nor shall the planets yield their light:
But from the wretched object fly,
And, like extinguish'd tapers, quit the darken'd sky.
The rising Sun, as he was conscious too,
As he the fatal business knew,
A deep, a bloody red shall stain,
And at his early dawn shall set in night again.
To the destroying sword I've said, "Go forth, Go, fully execute my wrath!
Command my hosts, my willing armies lead; For this rebellious land and all therein shall bleed." They shall not grieve me more, no more transgress; I will consume the stubborn race:
Yet brutes and savages I justly spare;
Useless is all my vengeance there;
Ungrateful man 's the greater monster far.
On guiltless beasts I will the land bestow,
To them th' inheritance shall go ;
Those elder brothers now shall lord it here below:
And, if some poor remains escape behind,
Some relics left of lost mankind;
Th' astonish'd herds shall in their cities cry, When they behold a man, "Lo, there's a prodigy !".
The Medes I call to my assistance here,
A people that delight in war!
A generous race of men, a nation free
From vicious case and Persian luxury.
Silver is despicable in their eyes,
Contemn d the useless metal lies:
Their conquering iron they prefer before
The finest gold, ev'n Ophir's tempting ore.
By these the land shall be subdued,
Abroad their bows shall overcome,
Their swords and flames destroy at home;
For neither sex nor age shall be exempt from blood.
The nobles and the princes of thy state
Shall on the victor's triumphs wait :
And those that from the battle fled
Shall be, with chains oppress'd, in cruel bondage led.
I'll visit their distress with plagues and miseries,
The throes that womens' labours wait,
Convulsive pangs, and bloody sweat,
Their beauty shall consume, and vital spirits seize
The ravish'd virgins shall be borne
away,
And their dishonour'd wives be led
To the insulting victor's bed,
To brutal lusts expos'd, to fury left a prey.
Nor shall the teeming womb afford
Its forming births a refuge from the sword;
And all the throes of travail curse with barrenness,
The infants shall expire with their first breath,
And only live in pangs of death;
And, at the dawn of life, set in eternal night.
Live but with early cries to curse the light,
The sword, that shall their pangs increase,
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