Felicitates its own superior lot:
Inhuman triumph! Hence the piercing taunt
Of titled insolence inflicted deep.
Hence the warm blush that paints ingenuous shame
By conscious want inspir'd; th' unpitied pang
Of love and friendship slighted. Hence the tear
Of impotent compassion, when the voice
Of pain, by others felt, quick smites my heart.
And rouses all its tenderness in vain.
All these, and more, on this devoted head,
Have with collected bitterness been pour'd.
Nor end my sorrows here. The sacred fane
Of knowledge, scarce accessible to me,
With heart-consuming anguish I behold;
Knowledge, for which my soul insatiate burns
With ardent thirst. Nor can these useless hands
Untutored in each life-sustaining art,
Nourish this wretched being, and supply
Frail nature's wants, that short cessation know.
Where now, ah! where is that supporting arm
Which to my weak, unequal infant steps,
Its kind assistance lent?* Ah! where that love,
That strong assiduous tenderness, which watch'd
My wishes yet scarce form'd; and to my view,
Unimportun'd, like all-indulging Heav'n,
Their objects brought? Ah! where that gentle voice
Which, with instruction, soft as summer dews
Or fleecy snows, descending on my soul,
Distinguish'd every hour with new delight?
Ah! where that virtue, which amid the storms
the mingled horrors of tumultuous life,
Jntainted, unsubdued, the shock sustain'd
so firm the oak which, in eternal night,
As deep its root extends, as high to Heaven
Its top majestic rises; such the smile
Of some benignant angel, from the throne
Of God dispatch'd, ambassador of peace;
The character here drawn is that of the author's father, whoso unforeseen fate nad just before happened: he was killed by the fall of a malt kiln.
Who on his look impress'd his message bears,
And pleas'd, from earth averts impending ill.
Alas! no wife thy parting kisses shar'd;
From thy expiring lips no child receiv'd
Thy last, dear blessing, and thy last advice.
Friend, father, benefactor, all at once,
In thee forsook me, an unguarded prey
For every storm, whose lawless fury roars
Beneath the azure concave of the sky,
To toss, and on my head exhaust its rage.
Dejecting prospect! soon the hapless hour
May come; perhaps this moment it impends,
Which drives me forth to penury and cold,
Naked, and beat by all the storms of heaven,
Friendless and guideless to explore my way;
Till on cold earth this poor unshelter'd head
Reclining, vainly from the ruthless blast
Respite I beg, and in the shock expire.
Me miserable! wherefore, O my soul!
Was, on such hard conditions, life desir'd
One step, one friendly step, without thy guilt;
Had plac'd me safe in this profound recess,
Where, undisturb'd, eternal quiet reigns
And sweet forgetfulness of grief and care.
Why, then, my coward soul! didst thou recoil!
Why shun the final exit of thy woe?
Why shiver at approaching dissolution!
Say, why, by nature's unresisted force,
Is every being, where volition reigns
And active choice, impell'd to shun their fate,
And dread destruction as the worst of ills;
Say, why they shrink, why fly, why fight, why risk
Precarious life, to lengthen out its state,
Which, lengthen'd, is at best protracted pain !
Say, by what mystic charms, can life allure
Unnumber'd beings, who, beneath me far
Plac'd in th' extensive scale of nature, want
Those blessings Heaven accumulates on me!
Blessings superior; though the blaze of day
Pours on their sight its soul-refreshing stream,
To me extinct in everlasting shades:
Yet heaven-taught music, at whose powerful voice
Corrosive care and anguish, charm'd to peace,
Forsake the heart, and yield it all to joy,
Ne'er soothes their pangs. To their insensate view
Knowledge in vain her fairest treasure spreads.
To them the noblest gift of bounteous Heaven,
Sweet conversation, whose enlivening force
Elates, distends, and, with unfading strength,
Inspires the soul, remains forever lost.
The sacred sympathy of social hearts;
Benevolence, supreme delight of heaven;
Th' extensive wish, which in one wide embrace
All beings circles, when the swelling soul
Partakes the joys of God, ne'er warms their breasts
As yet, my soul ne'er felt th' oppressive weight
Of indigence unaided; swift redress,
Beyond the daring flight of hope, approached,
And every wish of nature amply bless'd,
Though, o'er the future series of my fate,
Ill omens seem to brood, and stars malign
To blend their baneful fire: while the sun
Darts boundless glory through th' expanse of heaven
A gloom of congregated vapors rise,
Than night more dreadful in her blackest shroud,
And o'er the face of things incumbent hang,
Protruding tempest; till the source of day
Again asserts the empire of the sky,
And o'er the blotted scene of nature, throws
A keener splendor. So, perhaps, that care,
Through all creation felt, but most by man,
Which hears with kind regard the tender sigh
Of modest want, may dissipate my fears,
And bid my hours a happier flight assume.
Perhaps, enlivening hope! perhaps my soul
May drink at Wisdom's fountains, and allay
Her unextinguish'd ardor in the stream:
Wisdom, the constant magnet, where each wish,
Set by the hand of Nature, ever points,
Restless and faithful, as the attractive force
By which all bodies to the center tend.
What then! because th' indulgent sire of all
Has, in the plan of things, prescrib'd my sphere.
Because consummate Wisdom thought not fit,
In affluence and pomp, to bid me shine;
Shall I regret my destiny, and curse
That state, by Heaven's paternal care design'd
To train me up for scenes, with which compar'd,
These ages, measured by the orbs of heaven,
In blank annihilation fade away!
For scenes, where, finish'd by th' Almighty art,
Beauty and order open to the sight
In vivid glory; where the faintest rays
Out-flash the splendor of our midday sun?
Say, shall the Source of all, who first assign'd
To each constituent of this wondrous frame
Its proper powers, its place and action due,
With due degrees of weakness, where results
Concord ineffable; shall he reverse
Or disconcert the universal scheme,
The general good, to flatter selfish pride
And blind desire?-Before th' Almighty voice
From non-existence call'd me into life,
What claim had I to being? What to shine
In this high rank of creatures, form'd to climb
The steep ascent of virtue unrelax'd,
Till infinite perfection crown their toil?
Who, conscious of their origin divine,
Eternal order, beauty, truth, and good,
Perceive, like their great Parent, and admire.
Hush! then, my heart, with pious cares suppress This timid pride, and impotence of soul:
Learn, now, why all those multitudes which crowd
This spacious theater, and gaze on heaven,
Invincibly averse to meet their fate,
Avoid each danger; know this sacred truth,
All-perfect Wisdom, on each living soul,
Engrav'd this mandate, to preserve their frame
And hold entire the general orb of being.
Then, with becoming reverence, let each pow 1.
In deep attention, hear the voice of God;
That awful voice, which, speaking to the soul
Commands its resignation to his law!
For this, has Heaven to virtue's glorious stage
Call'd me, and placed the garland in my view,
The wreath of conquest; basely to desert
The part assigned me, and with dastard fear,
From present pain, the cause of future bliss,
To shrink into the bosom of the grave?
How, then, is gratitude's vast debt repaid!
Where all the tender offices of love
Due to fraternal man, in which the heart
Each blessing it communicates, enjoys!
How then shall I obey the first great law
Of nature's legislator, deep impress'd
With double sanction, restless fear of death,
And fondness still to breathe this vital air!
Nor is th' injunction hard; who would not sink
Awhile in tears and sorrow, then emerge
With ten-fold luster, triumph o'er his pain,
And with unfading glory, shine in heaven!
Come, then, my little guardian genius! Cloth'd
In that familiar form, my Phylax, come!
Let me caress thee, hug thee to my heart,
Which beats with joy of life preserved by thee.
Had not thy interposing fondness stay'd
My blind precipitation, now, e'en now,
My soul, by nature's sharpest pangs expell'd
Had left this frame; had pass'd the dreadful bounas
Which life from death divides, divides this scene
From vast eternity, whose deep'ning shades.
Impervious to the sharpest mortal sight,
Elude our honest search.-But still I err.
Howe'er thy grateful, undesigning heart,
In ills foreseen, with promptitude might aid;
Yet this, beyond thy utmost reach of thought.
|