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And conscious of the outrage he commits, To want of judgment than to wrong design, ad Shall seek it, and not find it, in his turn. So in the chapel of old Ely House, Distinguished much by reason, and still more
When wandering Charles, who meant to be the By our capacity of grace divine,
third, From creatures, that exist but for our sake,
Had fled from William, and the news was fresh, How to Which, having served us, perish, we are held The simple clerk, but loyal, did announce, Accountable; and God some future day
And eke did rear right merrily, two staves, Will reckon with us roundly for the abuse Sung to the praise and glory of King George! wood Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust.
-Man praises man; and Garrick's memory next, Superior as we are, they yet depend
When time had somewhat mellowed it, and made Not more on human help than we on theirs. The idol of our worship while he lived stood. Their strength, or speed, or vigilance were given The God of our idolatry once more, In aid of our defects. In some are found
Shall have its altar; and the world shall go
In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine.
The theatre too small shall suffocate
Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return
Shall stuff his shoulders with king Richard's
bunch, nd fine And figure of the man, his secret aim,
Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak,
And strut and storm, and straddle, stamp and
To show the world how Garrick did not act,
For Garrick was a worshipper himself;
He drew the liturgy, and framed the rites
And solemn ceremonials of the day,
Of Avon, famed in song. Ah, pleasant proof trudek Against unkindness, absence, and neglect; That piety has still in human hearts Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat
Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct.
The mulberry-tree stood centre of the dance; nada Man praises man. Desert in arts or arms The mulberry-tree was hymned with dulcet airs; ri Wins public honour; and ten thousand sit And from his touchwood trunk the mulberry-tree Patiently present at a sacred song,
Supplied such relics as devotion holds Commemoration-mad; content to hear Still sacred, and preserves with pious care. (0 wonderful effect of music's power!)
So 'twas a hallowed time: decorum reigned, Messiah's eulogy for Handel's sake.
And mirth without offence. No few returned, But less, methinks, than sacrilege might serve- Doubtless, much edified, and all refreshed.pealth (For, was it less, what heathen would have dared Man praises man. The rabble all alive
To strip Jove’s statue of his oaken wreath, From tippling benches, cellars, stalls, and styes,
Swarm in the streets. The statesman of the day,
Some shout him, and some hang upon his car,
While others, not so satisfied, unhorse
Why? what has charmed them? Hath he saved roots
That His most holy book, from whom it came, the state?
That is not sound and perfect, hath in theirs
Thus idly do we waste the breath of praise, | And that one season an eternal spring.
The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, And just direction sacred, to a thing
For there is none to covet, all are full. Doomed to the dust, or lodged already there. The lion, and the libbard, and the bear, Encomium in old time was poets' work; Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon But poets, having lavishly long since
| Together, or all gambol in the shade Exhausted all materials of the art,
Of the same grove, and drink one common stream The task now falls into the public hand; Antipathies are none. No foe to man And I, contented with an humbler theme, Lurks in the serpent now; the mother sees, Have poured my stream of panegyric down And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand The vale of Nature, where it creeps, and winds Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm, Among her lovely works with a secure
To stroke his azure neck, or to receive And unambitious course, reflecting clear, The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes. All creatures worship man, and all mankind And I am recompensed, and deem the toils One Lord, one Father. Error has no place: Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine
That creeping pestilence is driven away; May stand between an animal and wo,
The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge. No passion touches a discordant string,
The groans of Nature in this nether world, But all is harmony and love. Disease Which Heaven has heard for ages, have an end. not; the pure and uncontaminate blood Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung, Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. Whose fire was kindled at the prophet's lamp, One song employs all nations; and all cry, The time of rest, the promised sabbath, comes. Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us!" Six thousand years of sorrow have well-nigh The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Fulfilled their tardy and disastrous course Shuut to each other, and the mountain tops Over a sinful world; and what remains From distant mountains catch the fying joy; Of this tempestuous state of human things Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Is merely as the working of a sea
Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round. Before a calm, that rocks itself to rest:
Behold the measure of the promise filled; For He, whose car the winds are, and the clouds See Salem built, the labour of a God! The dust that waits upon his sultry march, Bright as the sun the sacred city shines; When sin hath moved them, and his wrath is hot, All kingdoms and all. princes of the earth Shall visit earth in mercy; shall descend Flock to that light; the glory of all lands Propitious in his chariot paved with love; Flows into her; unbounded is her joy, And what his storms have blasted and defaced And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, For man's revolt shall with a smile repair. Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there :*
Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, Not to be wronged by a mere mortal touch: And Saba's spicy groves pay tribute there. Nor can the wonders it records be sung
Praise is in all her gates; upon her walls, To meaner music, and not suffer loss.
And in her streets, and in her spacious courts But when a poet, or when one like me,.
Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there Happy to rove among poetic flowers,
Kncels with the native of the farthest west; Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last, And Æthiopia spreads abroad the hand, On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair, And worships. Her report has traveHed forth Such is the impulse and the spur he feels, Into all lands. From every clime they come To give it praise proportioned to its worth, To see thy beauty, and to share thy joy, · That not t' attempt it, arduous as he deems O Sion! an assembly such as earth The labour, were a task more arduous still. Saw never, such as heaven stoops down to see. O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true,
Thus heavenward all things tend. For all were Scenes of accomplished bliss! which who can see, Though but in distant prospect, and not feel Perfect, and all must be at length restored. His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy? So God has greatly purposed; who could else Rivers of gladness water all the earth,
In his dishonoured works himself endure And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach Dishonour, and be wronged without redress. Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field Haste then, and wheel away a shattered world, Laughs with abundance; and the land, once lean,
Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progenitors Or fertile only in its own disgrace,
of the Arabs, in the prophetic scripture here alluded 1, may Exults to see its thistly curse repealed,
be reasonably considered as representatives of the Gentiles al The various seasons woven into one,
Ye slow-revolving seasons! we would see Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal,
Two gods divide them all-Pleasure and Gain; From touch of human lips, at best impure. For these they live, they sacrifice to these, O for a world in principle as chaste
And in their service wage perpetual war As this is gross and selfish! over which
With conscience and with thee. Lust in their Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway,
hearts, That govern all things here, shouldering aside And mischief in their hands, they roam the earth The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her
To prey upon each other: stubborn, fierce, To seek a refuge from the tongue of strife High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace. In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men; Thy prophets speak of such; and, noting down Where violence shall never lift the sword,
The features of the last degenerate times, Nor cunning justify the proud man's wrong,
Exhibit every lineament of these. Leaving the poor no remedy but tears;
Come then, and, added to thy many crowns, Where he, that fills an office, shall esteem
Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest, Th' occasion it presents of doing good,
Due to thy last and most effectual work, More than the perquisite: where law shall speak Thy word fulfilled, the conquest of a world ! Seldom, and never but as wisdom prompts He is the happy man, whose life e'en now And equity ? not jealous more to guard
Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; A worthless form, than to decide aright:
Who, doomed to an obscure but tranquil state, Where fashion shall not sanctify abuse, Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose, Nor smooth good-breeding (supplemental grace) Would make his fate his choice; whom peace, the With lean performance ape the work of love !
fruit Come then, and added to thy many crowns,
Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith,
Of objects, more illustrious in her view;
Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world. Dipped in the fountain of eternal love.
She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not; Thy saints proclaim thee king; and thy delay He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain. Gives courage to their foes, who, could they see He can not skiin the ground like suminer birds The dawn of thy last advent, long-desired, Pursuing gilded flies; and such she deems Would creep into the bowels of the hills, Ller honours, her emoluments her joys. And flee for safety to the falling rocks.
Therefore in contemplation is his bliss, The very spirit of the world is tired
Whose power is such, that whom she lifts from Of its own taunting question, asked so long,
earth "Where is the promise of your Lord's approach ?” She makes familiar with a heaven unseen, The infidel has shot his bolts away,
And shows him glories yet to be revealed. Till, his exhausted quiver yielding none,
Not slothful he, though seeming unemployed, He gleans the blunted shafts, that have recoiled, And censured oft as useless. Stillest streams And aims them at the shield of Truth again. Oit water fairest meadows, and the bird The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hands, That flutters least is longest on the wing. That hides divinity from mortal eyes;
Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has raised, And all the mysteries to faith proposed,
Or what achievements of immortal fame Insulted and traduced, are cast aside,
He purposes, and he shall answer-None. As useless, to the moles and to the bats. His warfare is within. There unfatigued They now are decmed the faithful, and are praised, 'His fervent spirit labours. There he fights, Who constant only in rejecting thee,
And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself,
And never-withering wreaths, compared with Because that world adopts it. If it bear which,
The stamp and clear impression of good sense, The laurels that a Cæsar reaps are weeds. And be not costly more than of true worth, Perhaps the self-approving haughty world, He puts it on, and for decorum sake That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she. Scarce deigns to notice him, or, if she see, She judges of refinement by the eye, Deems him a cipher in the works of God, He by the test of conscience, and a heart Receives advantage from his noiseless hours, Not soon deceived; aware that what is base Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes No.polish can make sterling; and that vice, Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring Though well perfumed and elegantly dressed, And plenteous harvest, to the prayer he makes, Like an unburied carcase tricked with flowers, When, Isaac like, the solitary saint
Is but a garnished nuisance, fitter far Walks forth to meditate at eventide,
For cleanly riddance, than for fair attire. And think on her, who thinks not for herself. So life glides smoothly and by stealth away, Forgive him then, thou bustler in concerns More golden than that age of fabled gold Of little worth, an idler in the best,
Renowned in ancient song; not vexed with care If, author of no mischief and some good, Or stained with guilt, beneficent, approved He seek his proper happiness by means Of God and man, and peaceful in its end. That may advance, but can not hinder, thine. So glide my life away, and so at last, Nor, though he tread the secret path of life, My share of duties decently fulfilled, Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease,
May some disease, not tardy to perform Account him an encumbrance on the state, Its destined office, yet with gentle stroke, Receiving benefits, and rendering none.
Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat, His sphere though humble, if that humble sphere Beneath the turf that I have often trod. Shine with his fair example, and though small It shall not grieve me then, that once, when calHis influence, if that influence all be spent
led In soothing sorrow, and int quenching strife, To dress a Sofa with the flowers of verse, In aiding helpless indigence, in works.
I played awhile, obedient to the fair, From which at least a grateful few derive With that light task; but soon, to please her more, Some taste of comfort in a world of wo;. Whom flowers alone I knew would little please, Then let the supercilious great confess
Let fall th’unfinished wreath, and roved for fruit; He serves his country, recompenses well Roved far, and gathered much: some harsh, 'tis The state, beneath the shadow of whose vine
'true, He sits secure, and in the scale of life .. Picked from the thorns and briers of reproof, Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place. But wholesome, well digested; grateful some The man whose virtues are more felt than seen, To palates that can taste immortal truth; Must drop indeed the hope of public praise; Insipid else, 'and sure to be despised; But he may boast, what few that win it can, But all is in His hand, whose praise I seek. That if his country stand not by his skill, In vain the poet sings, and the world hears, At least his follies have not wrought her fall. If He regard not, though divine the theme. Polite Refinement offers him in vain
'Tis not in artful measures, in the chime Her golden tube, through which a sensual world And idle kling of a minstrel's lyre, Draws gross impurity, and likes it well,
To charm his ear, whose eye is on the heart; The neat conveyance hiding all th' offence. Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, Not that he peevishly rejects a mode
Whose approbation-prosper even mine.
JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.
DEAR Joseph-five and twenty years ago
As some grave gentlemen in Terence says,
Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life; Bespoke as least a man that knew mankind.
But not to moralize too much, and strain
Once on a time an emperor, a wise man,
No matter where, in China, or Japan, Swinging the parlour door upon its hinge,
Decreed, that whosoever should offend Dreading a negative, and overawed
Against the well known duties of a friend, Lest he should trespass, begged to go abroad.
Convicted once should ever after wear Go, fellow ?-whither?-turning short about
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare.. Nay. Stay at home-you're always going out.
The punishment importing this, no doubt, 'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end
That all was naught within, and all found out. For what?-An please you, sir, to see a friend.A friend! Horatio cried, and seemed to start
O happy Britain! we have not to fear Yea, marry shalt thou, and with all my heart.
Such hard and arbitrary measure here; And fetch my cloak; for, though the night be raw, Else, could a law, like that which I relate, I'll see him too-the first I ever saw.
Once have the sanction of our triple state, I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, Some few, that I have known in days of old, And was his plaything often when a child; Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold; But somewhat at that moment pinched him close, While you, my friend, whatever wind should Else he was seldom bitter or morose.
blow, Perhaps his confidence just then betrayed, · Might traverse England safely to and fro, His grief might prompt him with the speech he An honest man, close buttoned to the chin, made;
Broad cloth without, and a warm heart within.
A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS.
Κεφαλιον δη παιδειας ορθη τροφη.
REV. WM. CAWTHORNE UNWIN, RECTOR OF STOCK IN ESSEX, THB TUTOR OF HIS TWO SONS, THE FOLLOWING POEM, RECOMMENDING PRIVATE TUITION, IN PREFERENCE TO AN EDUCATION AT SCHOOL, IS INSCRIBED, BY HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, Olney, Nor. 6th, 1784.
It is not from his form, in which we trace
Hers is the state, the splendour, and the throne,