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Say, will the falcon, stooping from above,
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove ?
Admires the jay, the insect’s gilded wings ?
Or hears the hawk whep Philomela sings ?
Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods,
To beasts his pastures, and to fish his foods ;
For some his int’rest prompts him to provide,
For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride.
All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy
Th' extensive blessings of his Inxury.
That very life his learned hunger craves,
He saves from famine, from the savage saves :
Nay, feasts the animal he dooms bis feast;
And, till he ends the being, makes it blest :
Which sees no more the stroke, nor feels the pain,
Than favour'd man by touch ethereal slain,
Tbe creature had bis feast of life before
; Thou too must perish, when thy feast is o'er !-POPE.
Weak and irresolute is man ;
The purpose of to-day,
Woven with pains into his plan,
To-morrow rends away.
The bow well bent, and smart the spring,
Vice seems already slain;
But passion rudely snaps the string,
And it revives again.
Some foe to his upright intent
Finds out his weaker part ;
Virtue engages his assent,
But pleasure wins his heart.
'Tis here the folly of the wise,
Through all his art we view ;
And while his tongue the charge denies,
His conscience owns it true.
Bound on a voyage of awful length,
And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,
Man vainly trusts his own.
But oars alone can ne'er prevail
To reach the distant coast :
The breath of heaven must swell the sail,
Or all the toil is lost.- COWPER.
Come, peace of mind, delightful guest !
Return, and make thy downy nest
Once more in this sad heart ;
Nor riches I, nor pow'r pursue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view;
We therefore need not part.
Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me,
From avrice and ambition free,
And pleasure's fatal wilcs ;
For whom, alas' dost thou prepare
The sweets that I was, wont to share,
The banquet of thy smiles ?
shall they partake The heav'n that thou alone canst make;
And wilt thou quit the stream,
That murmurs through the dewy mead,
The grove and the sequester'd shade,
To be a guest with them?
For thee I panted, thee I priz'd,
For thee I gladly sacrific'd
Whate'er I lov'd before ;
And shall I see thee start away,
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say-
Farewell, we meet no more ?-COWPER.
Ode to adversity. Daughter of Heav'n, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge, and tort'ring hour, The bad affright, afilict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan unfelt before, unpitied and alone.
When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, bis darling child, design’d,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind,
Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore.
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know ;
And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' wo.
Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing folly's idle brood,
Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse ; and with them go,
The summer-friend, the flatt'ring foe.
By vain prosperity receiv'd,
To her they yow their truth, and are again believ'd.
Wisdom, in sable garb array'd,
Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,
And melancholy, silent maid,
With leaden eye that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend;
Warm charity, the gen'ral friend,
With justice to herself severe,
And pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear.
Oh, gently, on thy suppliant's head,
Dread power, lay thy chast'ning hand!
Not in thy gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band,
(As by the impious thou art seen,)
With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien,
With screaming horror's fup?ral cry,
Despair, and fell disease, and ghastly poverty.
Tby form benign, propitious, wear,
Thy milder influence impart;
Thy philosophic trajn be there,
To soften, not to wound my heart.
The gen'rous spark extinct revive ;
Teach me to love, and to forgive ;
Exact my own defects to scan ;
What others are to feel i and know myself a man.-GRAY.
SECTION XIV. The creation required to praise its Author, Begin, my soul, tb' exalted lay! Let each enraptur'd thought obey,
And praise th' Almighty's name :
Lo! heaven and earth, and seas, and skies,
In one melodious concert rise,
To swell th' inspiring theme.
Ye fields of light, celestial plains,
Where gay transporting beauty reigns,
Ye scenes divinely fair !
Your Maker's wondrous pow'r proclaim,
Tell how he form'd your shining frame,
And breath'd the fluid air.
Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound !
Wbile all th' adoring thrones around
His boundless mercy sing :
Let ev'ry list ning saint above
Wake all the tuneful soul of love,
And touch the sweetest string. Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir; Thou dazzling orb of liquid fire,
The mighty chorus aid :
Soon as gray ev’ning gilds the plain,
Thou, moon, protract the melting strain,
And praise him in the shade.
Thou heaven of heavens, his vast abode
; Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God,
Who call'd yon worlds from night; Ye shades dispel !"-th' Eternal said ; At once th' involving darkness fled,
And nature sprung to light.
Whate'er a blooming world contains,
That wings the air, that skims the plains
United praise bestow :
Ye dragons, sound his awful name
To heaven aloud ; and roar acclaim,
Ye swelling deeps below.
Let ev'ry element rejoice;
Ye thunders burst with awful voice
TO HIM who bids you roll ;
His praise in gofter notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,
And breathe it to the soul.
To him ye grateful cedars, bow;
Ye tow'ring mountains, bending low,
Your great Creator owni
Tell, when affrighted nature shook,
How Sinai kindled at his look,
And trembled at his frowa.
Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale,
Ye insects flutt'ring on the gale,
In mutual concourse rise ;
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom,
And wast its spoils, a sweet perfume,
In incense to the skies.
Wake all ye mounting tribes, and sing ;
Ye plumy warblers of the spring,
Harmonious anthems raise
To him who shap'd your finer mould,
Who tipp'd your glittring wings with gold,
And turn'd your voice to praise.
Let man, by pobler passions sway'd,
The feeling heart, the judging head,
In heavenly praise employ;
Spread lis tremendous name around,
Till heaven's broad arch rings back the sound,
The gen’ral burst of joy.
Ye whom the charms of grandeur please,
Nurs'd on the downy lap of ease,
Fall prostrate at his throne ;
Ye princes, rulers, all adore ;
Praise bin, ye kings, who makes your pow'r
An image of his own.
Ye fair, by nature form’d to move,
O praise th' eternal SOURCE OF LOVE,
With youth's enliv'ning fire :
Let age take up the tuneful lay,
Sigh bis bless'd name-then soar away,
And ask an angel's lyre,- OGILVIE.