Defile th' ensanguined plain. Ah! see distress'd
He stands at bay against yon knotty trunk,
That covers well his rear, his front presents
An host of foes.
To dare some great exploit, he charges home
Upon the broken pack, that on each side
Fly diverse; then as o'er the turf he strains,
He scents the cooling stream, and up the breeze
Urges his course with equal violence :
Then takes the soil and plunges in the flood
Precipitant down the mid stream he wafts
Along, till (like a ship distress'd, that runs
Into some winding creek) close to the verge
Of a small island, for his weary feet
Sure anchorage he finds, there skulks immersed,
His nose alone above the wave draws in
The vital air; all else beneath the flood
Conceal'd and lost, deceives each prying eye
Of man or brute. In vain the crowding pack 105 Draw on the margin of the stream, or cut
The liquid wave with oary feet, that move
In equal time. The gliding waters leave
No trace behind, and his contracted pores
But sparingly perspire: the huntsman strains
His labouring lungs, and puffs his cheeks in vain.
At length a blood-hound bold, studious to kill,
And exquisite of sense, winds him from far;
Headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouth
Loud opening spends amain, and his wide throat 115
Swells every note with joy; then fearless dives
Beneath the wave, hangs on his haunch and wounds
Th' unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,
Sorely distress'd, and, struggling, strives to mount
The steepy shore. Haply once more escaped, 120
Again he stands at bay, amid the groves
Of willows, bending low their downy heads.
Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack:
These swim the deep, and those crawl up with pain
The slippery bank, while others on firm land
Engage; the stag repels each bold assault,
Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns.
So fares it with the stag: so he resolves
To plunge at once into the flood below;
Himself, his foes in one deep gulf immersed.
Ere yet he executes this dire intent,
The tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks;
He weeps, nor weeps in vain. The king beholds
His wretched plight, and tenderness innate
Moves his great soul. Soon at his high command
Rebuked, the disappointed hungry pack
Retire, submit, and grumbling quit their prey.
Great prince! from thee what may thy subjects
So kind and so beneficent to brutes?
O mercy, heavenly born! sweet attribute!
Thou great, thou best prerogative of power!
Justice may guard the throne, but join'd with thee
On rocks of adamant it stands secure.
ENCOURAGEMENT.
How the days glow in the light of the sunbeam!
Blue are the heavens and verdant the meads :
In the sphere's chorus complaint is a discord;
Weareth creation then sorrow's dark weeds?
Raise up the looks now so mournfully sinking,
Lift up your looks, there is much that is fair!
Virtue herself will conduct us to gladness;
Wisdom hath joy for its recompense e'er.
Open the soul to the light of joy's rapture,
Hark! she resounds in the linnet's sweet song,
Breathe! how she revels in bowers of roses,
Listen! she murmurs the brooklets along;
Taste! in the grape's luscious nectar she gloweth, Seasons the fruit at the rustic regale ;
See! how she smiles in the plants and the bowers, Painting the charms of the flowery vale!
Tell me, O friends, why this womanish weeping,
Wherefore these tears on the cheek in its bloom?
Is then in men this soft longing beseeming?
Would ye despondingly sink in the tomb?
Much that is noble remains to accomplish,
Much that is good yet remains to be done;
Gladness rewards the fulfilling of duties,
Peace overshadows the goal that is won.
Whose is the fault if a legion of sorrows
Wring in our bosom with struggling throes?
Hope to the heart that is wounded is balsam,
Patience e'er healeth the sufferer's woes.
When the dark clouds of despondency shade thee, Raise to the heavens thy sinking despair;
Cherish but confidence manly and lofty,
Well at the close do the good ever fare.
Cheerfully look on the works of creation,
God's holy Nature was made to adore ;
Also remember the destitute's craving,
Joys of sweet charity charm us still more.
Love! O for love is the sweetest of feelings,
Let but in innocence flow the bright flood;
Learn then to love, with a love that is wiser,
All that is noble, exalted, and good.
Act! in his actions man's wisdom appeareth,
Fame, immortality e'er at their side.
Mark with achievements the vanishing traces
Of the fleet circle of time as they glide.
Let us make happy the circle around us,
Let us be useful as much as we may,
Then will the heart overflow with soft rapture,
Then will dissolve the dark clouds of the day.
Courage! e'en sorrows when once they are vanish'd
Quicken the soul as the shower the dale;
Soon will the graves by the cypress o'ershadow'd,
Smile 'neath the silent forget-me-not's veil.
Friends! then O let us rejoice and be cheerful!
Joy is the will of the Father on high;
Ne'er can the pleasures of innocence harm us; 55 Smile amid roses when death draweth nigh.
AH! no, 'tis all in vain, believe me 'tis,
This pious artifice.
Not all these prayers and alms can buy
One moment tow'rd eternity.
Eternity! that boundless race,
Which Time himself can never run,
(Swift as he flies, with an unweary'd pace) :
Which, when ten thousand thousand years are done,
Is still the same, and still to be begun.
Fix'd are those limits, which prescribe
A short extent to the most lasting breath :
And though thou could'st for sacrifice lay down
Millions of other lives to save thy own,
'Twere fruitless all; not all would bribe
One supernumerary gasp from death.
In vain's thy inexhausted store
Of wealth, in vain thy power;
Thy honours, titles, all must fail,
Where piety itself can nought avail.
The rich, the great, the innocent, and just,
Must all be huddled to the grave
With the most vile and ignominious slave,
And undistinguish'd lie in dust.
In vain the fearful flies alarms,
In vain he is secure from wounds of arms,
In vain avoids the faithless seas,
And is confined to home and ease,
Bounding his knowledge, to extend his days
In vain are all those arts we try,
All our evasions, and regret to die :
From the contagion of mortality,
No clime is pure, no air is free :
And no retreat
Is so obscure, as to be hid from fate.
And backward trace the principles of things :
There shall we find that when the world began,
One common mass composed the mould of man ;
One paste of flesh on all degrees bestow'd ;
And kneaded up alike with moist'ning blood.
The same Almighty power inspired the frame
With kindled life, and form'd the souls the same.
The faculties of intellect and will,
Dispensed with equal hand, disposed with equal skill; Like liberty indulged, with choice of good or ill. II Thus born alike, from Virtue first began
The diff'rence that distinguished man from man.
He claim'd no title from descent of blood,
But that which made him noble, made him good. 15
Warm'd with more particles of heavenly flame,
He wing'd his upward flight, and soar'd to fame ;
The rest remain❜d below, a tribe without a name.
This law, though custom now diverts the course,
As nature's institute, is yet in force,
Uncancell'd, though diffused: and he whose mind
Is virtuous, is alone of noble kind :
Though poor in fortune, of celestial race :
And he commits the crime, who calls him base.
HYMN TO THE CREATOR.
THESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty! Thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then!
Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens
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