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How pleased he looks! my words have reach'd his He bids the gates unbar, and calls me near.” (ear;
She ceased. The cloud on which she seem'd to Its curls unfolded, and around her spread; [tread Bright angels wast their wings to raise the cloud, And sweep their ivory lutes, and sing aloud ; The scene moves off, while all its ambient sky Is turn'd to wondrous music as they fly ; And soft the swelling sounds of music grow, And faint their softness, till they fail below.
My downy sleep the warmth of Phæbus broke, And while my thoughts were settling, thus I spoke. Thou beauteous vision! on the soul impress'd, When most my reason would appear to rest, 'Twas sure with pencils dipp'd in various lights, Some curious angel limn'd thy sacred sights; From blazing suns his radiant gold he drew, While moons the silver gave, and air the blue. I'll mount the roving winds' expanded wing, And seek the sacred hill, and light to sing ; ('Tis known in Jewry well) I'll make my lays, Obedient to thy summons, sound with praise.
But still I fear, unwarmd with holy flame,
I take for truth the flatteries of a dream;
And barely wish the wondrous gift I boast,
And faintly practise what deserves it most.
Indulgent Lord! whose gracious love displays
Joy in the light, and fills the dark with ease!
Be this, to bless my days, no dream of bliss ;
Or be, to bless the nights, my dreams like this.
Lovely, lasting peace of mind!
Sweet delight of human kind!
Heavenly born, and bred on high,
To crown the favourites of the sky
With more of happiness below
Than victors in a triumph know!
Whither, oh whither art thou fled,
To lay thy meek, contented head;
What happy region dost thou please
To make the seat of calms and ease!
Ambition searches all its sphere
Of pomp and state, to meet thee there.
Increasing avarice would find
Thy presence in its gold enshrined.
The bold adventurer ploughs his way
Through rocks amidst the foaming sea,
To gain thy love; and then perceives
Thou wert not in the rocks and waves.
The silent heart, which grief assails,
Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales;
Sees daisies open, rivers run,
And seeks (as I have vainly done)
Amusing thought; but learns to know
That solitude's the nurse of wo.
No real happiness is found
In trailing purple o'er the ground:
Or in a soul exalted high,
To range the circuit of the sky,
Converse with stars above, and know
All nature in its forms below;
The rest it seeks, in seeking dies,
And doubts at last, for knowledge, rise.
Lovely, lasting peace, appear; This world itself, if thou art here, Is once again with Eden bless'd, And man contains it in his breast.
'Twas thus, as under shade I stood, I sung my wishes to the wood, And, lost in thought, no more perceived The branches whisper as they waved : It seem'd as all the quiet place Confess'd the presence of his grace.
When thus she spoke : Go rule thy will,
Bid thy wild passions all be still;
Know God, and bring thy heart to know
The joys which from religion flow:
Then every grace shall prove its guest,
And I'll be there to crown the rest.
Oh! by yonder mossy seat,
In my hours of sweet retreat,
Might I thus my soul employ,
With sense of gratitude and joy:
Raised as ancient prophets were,
In heavenly vision, praise, and prayer ;
Pleasing all men, hurting none,
Pleased and bless'd with God alone:
Then while the gardens take my sight,
With all the colours of delight;
While silver waters glide along,
To please my ear and court my song ;
I'll lift my voice and tune my string,
And thee, great source of nature, sing.
The sun that walks his airy way,
To light the world and give the day ;
The moon that shines with borrow'd light,
The stars that gild the gloomy night;
The seas that roll unumber'd waves,
The wood that spreads its shady leaves;
The field whose ears conceal the grain,
The yellow treasure of the plain;
All of these, and all I see,
Should be sung, and sung by me:
They speak their Maker as they can,
But want and ask the tongue of inan.
Go search among your idle dreams,
Your busy or your vain extremes ;
And find a life of equal bliss,
Or own the next begun in this.
“Sing, heavenly Muse! Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,”
A. shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire. Happy the man, who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leather purse retains A splendid shilling: he nor hears with pain New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale; But with his friends, when nightly mists arise, To Juniper's Magpie or Town Hall* repairs ; Where, mindful of the nymph whose wanton eye Transfix'd his soul and kindled amorous flames, Chloe or Phillis, he each circling glass Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love. Meanwhile he smokes and laughs at merry tale, Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint. But I, whom griping penury surrounds, And Hunger, sure attendant upon Want, With scanty offals and small acid tiff (Wretched repast !) my meager corpse sustain: . Then solitary walk, or doze at home In garret vile, and with a warming puff Regale chill'd fingers : or from tube as black As winter-chimney or well-polish'd jet, Exhale mundungus, ill-persuming scent: Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size, Smokes Cambro-Briton (versed in pedigree, Sprung from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings Full famous in romantic tale) when he, O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff, Upon a cargo of famed Çestrian cheese, High over-shadowing rides, with a design To vend his wares, or at the Arvonian mart,
+ Two noted alehouses in Oxford, 1700.
Or Maridunum, or the ancient town
Yclep'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream
Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil !
Whence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie
With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern.
Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow,
With looks demure and silent pace, a Dun,
Horrible monster! hated by gods and men,
To my aërial citadel ascends,
With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate,
With hideous accent thrice he calls; I know
The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound.
What should I do? or whither turn? Amazed,
Confounded, to the dark recess I fly
Of woodhole; straight my bristling hairs erect.
Through sudden fear; a chilly sweat bedews
My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell!)
My tongue forgets her faculty of speech:
So horrible he seems! His faded brow,
Intrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard,
And spreading band, admired by modern saints,
Disastrous acts forbode ; in his right hand
Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves,
With characters and figures dire inscribed,
Grievous to mortal eyes (ye gods, avert
Such plagues from righteous men!). Behind him
Another monster, not unlike himself, [stalks
Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar call'd
A catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods,
With force incredible and magic charms,
First have endued : if he his ample palm
Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay
Of debtor, straight his body, to the touch
Obsequious (as whilom knights were wont),
To some enchanted castle is convey'd,
Where gates impregnable and coercive chains
In durance strict detain him, till, in form
Of money, Pallas sets the captive free.
Beware, ye debtors! when ye walk, beware,