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With crimson foam ; and, when the banquet 's o'er, í His hulk is charg‘d with such a furious soul, They stride away, and paint their steps with gore;
That clouds of smoke from his spread nostrista In flight alone the shepherd puts his trust,
As from a furnace; and, when rous'd his ire, And shudders at the talon in the dust.
Fate issues from his jaws in streams of fire. “ Mild is my behemoth, though large his frame; The rage of tempests, and the roar of seas, Smooth is his temper, and represt his flame, Thy terrour, this thy great superior please; While unprovok’d. This native of the flood Strength on his ample shoulder sits in state; Lifts his broad foot, and puts ashore for food; His well-join'd limbs are dreadfully complete ; Earth sinks beneath him, as he moves along His flakes of solid flesh are slow to part; To seek the herbs, and mingle with the throng. As steel his nerves ; as adamant his heart. See with what strength his harden'd loins are bound, “ When, late awak'd, he rears him from the floor All over proof and sinut against a wound.
And, stretching forth his stature to the clouds, How like a mountain cedar moves his tail ! Writhes in the Sun aloft his scaly height, Nor can his complicated sinews fail.
And strikes the distant hills with transient light, Built high and wide, his solid bones surpass Far round are fatal damps of terrour spread, The bars of steel ; his ribs are ribs of brass; The mighty fear, nor blush to own their dread. His port majestic and his armed jaw
Large is his front; and, when his burrit Give the wide forest, and the mountain, law.
eyes The mountains feed him ; there the beasts admire Lift their broad lids, the morning seems to rise The mighty stranger, and in dread retire;
“ In vain may death in various shapes invade, At length his greatness nearer they survey,
The swift-wing'd arrow, the descending blade ; Graze in his shadow, and his eye obey.
His naked breast their impotence defies; The fens and marshes are his cool retreat,
The dart rebounds, the brittle falchion flies. His noontide shelter from the burning heat ; Shut in himself, the war without he hears, Their sedgy bosoms his wide couch are made, Safe in the tempest of their rattling spears; And groves of willows give him all their shade. The cumber'd strand their wasted volleys stros; “ His eye drinks Jordan up, when fir'd with His sport, the rage and labour of the foe. drought
“ His pastimes like a cauldron boil the food, He trusts to turn its current down his throat; And blacken ocean with the rising mud; In lessen'd waves it creeps along the plain : The billows feel him, as he works his way; He sinks a river, and he thirsts again.
His hoary footsteps shine along the sea; “Go to the Nile, and, from its fruitful side, The foam high-wrought with white divides the grees. Cast forth thy line into the swelling tide :
And distant sailors point where Death has been. With slender hair leviathan command,
“ His like Earth bears not on her spacious fa, And stretch his vastness on the loaded strand. Alone in Nature stands his dauntless race, Will he become thy servant ? Will he own For utter ignorance of fear renown'd, Thy lordly nod, and tremble at thy frown? In wrath he rolls his baleful eye around; Or with his sport amuse thy leisure day,
Makes every swoln, disdainful heart subside, And, bound in silk, with thy soft maidens play? And holds dominion o'er the sons of pride."
“Shall pompous banquets swell with such a prize? Then the Chaldæan eas'd his labouring breast, And the bowl journey round his ample size?
With full conviction of his crime opprest. Or the debating merchants share the prey,
“ Thou canst accomplish all things, Lord a And various limbs to various marts convey ?
Might! Through his firm skull what steel its way can win? And cvery thought is naked to thy sight. What forceful engine can subdue his skin ? But, oh! thy ways are wonderful, and lie Fly far, and live; tempt not his matchless might : Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye. The bravest shrink to cowards in his sight; Oft have I heard of thine almighty power; The rashest dare not rouse him up: Who then But never saw thee till this dreadful hour. Shall turn on me, among the sons of men ? O’erwhelm'd with shame, the Lord of Life I see, “ Am I a debtor ? Hast thou ever heard
Abhor myself, and give my soul to thee. Whence come the gifts that are on me conferr'd ? Nor shall my weakness tempt thine anger more: My lavish fruit a thousand valleys fills,
Man is not made to question, but adore."
“ At full my large leviathan shall rise,
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.
This double night, transmit one pitying ray,
To lighten, and to cheer. O lead my mind,
(A mind that fain would wander from its woe,) OR,
Lead it through various scenes of life and death ;
And from each scene, the noblest truths inspire.
Teach my best reason, reason; my best will is the occasion of this poem was real, not fictitious; Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear :
Teach rectitude; and fix my firm resolve so the method pursued in it was rather imposed, by what spontaneously arose in the author's mind Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, pour'd on that occasion, than meditated or designed ; which On this devoted head, be pour’d in vain.
The bell strikes one. We take no note of time will appear very probable from the nature of it. For it differs from the common mode of poetry, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue,
Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, which is, from long narrations to draw short morals.
Here, on the contrary, the narrative is I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, short, and the morality arising from it makes the It is the knell of my departed hours : bulk of the poem. The reason of it is, that the Where are they? With the years beyond the flood. facts mentioned did naturally pour these moral It is the signal that demands dispatch ; reflections on the thought of the writer.
How much is to be done? My hopes and fears
Start up alarm’d, and o'er life's narrow verge
Look down - On what? a fathomless abyss !
And can eternity belong to me,
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, ) THE RIGHT HON. ARTHUR Onslow, SPEAKER OF How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
How passing wonder He, who made him such ! Tr'd Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! Who centered in our make such strange extremes ! le, like the world, his ready visit pays
From different natures marvelously mixt, There fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes; Connection exquisite of distant worlds ! wift on his downy pinion flies from woe,
Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain! .nd lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
Midway from nothing to the Deity! From short (as usual) and disturb’d repose, A beam ethereal, sully'd and absorpt ! wake: How happy they, who wake no more! Though sully'd and dishonour'd, still divine ! 'et that were vain, if dreams infest the grave. Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! wake, emerging from a sea of dreams
An heir of glory! a frail chi of dust ! 'umultuous;
where my wreck'd desponding thought, Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! ‘rom wave to wave of fancied misery,
A worm! a god! - I tremble at myself, it random drove, her helm of reason lost.
And in myself am lost! at home a stranger, Though now restor'd, 't is only change of pain, Thought wanders up and down, surpris’d, aghast, A bitter change !) severer for severe.
And wondering at her own : How Reason reels ! The Day too short for my distress; and Night,
O what a miracle to man is man, s'en in the zenith of her dark domain,
Triumphantly distress'd! what joy, what dread ! s sunshine to the colour of my fate.
Alternately transported, and alarm’d! Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, What can preserve my life? or what destroy? n rayless majesty, now stretches forth
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; Ier leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. Legions of angels can't confine me there. jilence, how dead! and darkness, how profound ! 'T is past conjecture; all things rise in proof : Nor eye, nor listening ear, an object finds; While o'er my limbs sleep's soft dominion spread, Creation sleeps. T is, as the general pulse What though my soul fantastic measures trod Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; O’er fairy fields; or mourn'd along the gloom An aweful pause! prophetic of her end.
Of pathless woods ; or, down the craggy steep And let her prophecy be soon fulfillid;
Hurld headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool; Fate ! drop the curtain; I can lose no more. Or scal'd the cliff ; or danc'd on hollow winds,
Silence and Darkness ! solemn sisters ! twins With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain ?
Of subtler essence than the trodden clod; (That column of true majesty in man,)
Active, aërial, towering, unconfin'd, Assist me: I will thank you in the grave;
Unfetter'd with her gross companion's fall. The
grave, your kingdom: there this frame shall fall E’en silent night proclaims my soul immortal : A victim sacred to your dreary shrine.
E’en silent night proclaims eternal day.
For human weal, Heaven husbands all events; Thou, who didst put to flight
Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain. Primeval Silence, when the morning stars,
Why then their loss deplore, that are not lost? Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball!
Why wanders wretched thought their tombs around, O thou, whose word from solid darkness struck In infidel distress? Are angels there? That spark, the Sun ; strike wisdom from my soul; Slumbers
up in dust, ethereal fire? My soul, which flies to thee, her trust, her treasure, They live ! they greatly live a life on Earth As misers to their gold, while others rest.
Unkindled, unconceiv'd; and from an eye Through this opaque of Nature, and of soul, Of tenderness let heavenly pity fall
But what are ye?
On me, more justly number'd with the dead. Could you, so rich in rapturc, fear an end,
That ghastly thought would drink up all your jos o How populous, how vital, is the grave!
And quite unparadise the realms of light. This is creation's melancholy vault,
Safe are you lodg'd above these tolling spheres; la The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom;
The baleful influence of whose giddy dance The land of apparitions, empty shades !
Sheds sad vicissitude on all beneath. All, all on Earth, is shadow, all beyond
Here teems with revolutions every hour; Is substance ; the reverse is folly's creed :
And rarely for the better; or the best, How solid all, where change shall be no more! More mortal than the common births of fate. This is the bud of being, the dim dawn,
Each moment has its sickle, emulous The twilight of our day, the vestibule :
Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death,
Strikes empires from the root; each moment plays Strong Death, alone can heave the massy bar, His little weapon in the narrower sphere This gross impediment of clay remove,
Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down And make us embryos of existence free.
The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss. From real life, but little more remote
Bliss ! sublunary bliss ! - proud words, and rza. Is he, not yet a candidate for light,
Implicit treason to divine decree ! The future embryo, slumbering in his sire. A bold invasion of the rights of Heaven ! Embryos we must be, till we burst the shell, I clasp'd the phantoms, and I found them air. Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life, O had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace ! The life of gods, O transport! and of man. What darts of agony had miss'd my heart!
Yet man, fool man! here buries all his thoughts; Death! great proprietor of all ! 't is thine Inters celestial hopes without one sigh.
To tread out empire, and to quench the stars Prisoner of Earth, and pent beneath the Moon, The Sun himself by thy permission shines; Here pinions all his wishes ; wing'd by Heaven And, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his sphere To fly at infinite ; and reach it there,
Amid such mighty plunder, why exhaust Where seraphs gather immortality,
Thy partial quiver on a mark so mean? In life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God. Why thy peculiar rancour wreak’d on me? What golden joys ambrosial clustering glow, Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? In his full beam, and ripen for the just,
Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was Where momentary ages are no more! [expire! And thrice, ere thrice yon Moon had fill'd her herz Where Time, and Pain, and Chance, and Death o Cynthia ! why so pale ? Dost thou lament And is it in the fight of threescore years,
Thy wretched neighbour ? Grieve to see thy whe To push eternity from human thought,
Of ceaseless change outwhirl'd in human life? And smother souls immortal in the dust?
How wanes my borrow'd bliss ! from fortune's simit
, A soul immortal, spending all her fires,
Precarious courtesy ! not virtue's sure, Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, Self-given, solar ray of sound delight. Thrown into tumult, raptur'd or alarmn'd,
In every vary'd posture, place, and hour, At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, How widow'd every thought of every joy! Resembles ocean into tempest wrought,
Thought, busy thought! too busy for my peace! To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
Through the dark postern of time long elapsi
I rue the riches of my former fate;
Night-visions may befriend (as sung above): I tremble at the blessings once so dear;
Hangs out the Sun his lustre but for me, Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave !
The single man ? Are angels all beside ? Eternal sunshine in the storms of life!
I mourn for millions : 't is the common let; How richly were my noon-tide trances hung In this shape, or in that, has Fate entail'd With gorgeous tapestries of pictur'd joys !
The mother's throes on all of woman born, Joy behind joy, in endless perspective !
Not more the children, than sure heirs of peix, Till at Death's toll, whose restless iron tongue War, Famine, Pest, Volcano, Storn, and Fire, Calls daily for his millions at a meal,
Intestine broils, Oppression, with her heart Starting I woke, and found myself undone. Wrapt up in triple brass, besiege mankind. Where now my phrenzy's pompous furniture ? God's image disinherited of day, The cobweb'd cottage, with its ragged wall Here, plung'd in mines, forgets a Sun was made. Of mouldering mud, is royalty to me!
There, beings deathless as their haughty lord, The sprider's most attenuated thread
Are hammer'd to the galling oar for life; Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie
And plow the winter's wave, and reap despair. On earthly bliss ! it breaks at every breeze, Some, for hard masters, broken under arms, O ye blest scenes of permanent delight!
In battle lopt away, with half their limbs, Full, above measure ! lasting, beyond bound!
Beg bitter bread through realms their valour saril, A perpetuity of bliss is bliss.
If so the tyrant, or his minion, doom.,
ant, and incurable Disease, (fell pair !) Dear is thy welfare; think me not unkind; hopeless multitudes remorseless seize
I would not damp, but to secure thy joys. once; and make a refuge of the grave. Think not that fear is sacred to the storm : w groaning hospitals eject their dead !
Stand on thy guard against the smiles of Fate. hat numbers groan for sad admission there ! Is Heaven tremendous in its frowns ? Most sure; bat numbers, once in Fortune's lap high-fed, And in its favours formidable too : licit the cold hand of Charity!
Its favours here are trials, not rewards ; shock us more, solicit it in vain!
A call to duty, not discharge from care; silken sons of pleasure ! since in pains
And should alarm us, full as much as woes; u rue more modish visits, visit here,
Awake us to their cause and consequence; od breathe from your debauch: give, and reduce And make us tremble, weigh'd with our desert; feit's dominion o'er you: but so great
Awe Nature's tumult, and chastise her joys, ur impudence, you blush at what is right. Lest, while we clasp, we kill them; nay, invert Happy! did sorrow seize on such alone. To worse than simple misery, their charms. ot prudence can defend, or virtue save;
Revolted joys, like foes in civil war, sease invades the chastest temperance;
Like bosom friendships to resentment sour'd, id punishment the guiltless; and alarm, With rage envenom'd rise against our peace. trough thickest shades, pursues the fond of peace. Beware what Earth calls happiness ; beware an's caution often into danger turns ;
All joys, but joys that never can expire. ad his guard, falling, crushes him to death. Who builds on less than an immortal base, st happiness itself makes good her name; Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death. ir very wishes give us not our wish.
Mine died with thee, Philander ! thy last sigh ow distant oft the thing we doat on most, Dissolv'd the charm; the disenchanted Earth om that for which we doat, felicity!
Lost all her lustre.' Where her glittering towers? 1e smoothest course of Nature has its pains ! Her golden mountains, where ? all darken'd down id truest friends, through error, wound our rest. To naked waste; a dreary vale of tears; ithout misfortune, what calamities!
The great magician's dead! Thou poor, pale piece id what hostilities, without a foe!
Of out-cast earth, in darkness! what a change or are foes wanting to the best on Earth. From yesterday! Thy darling hope so near, It endless is the list of human ills,
(Long-labour'd prize!) O how ambition flush'd id sighs might sooner fail, than cause to sigh. Thy glowing cheek! Ambition truly great, A part how small of the terraqueous globe Of virtuous praise. Death's subtle seed within tenanted by man! the rest a waste,
(Sly, treacherous miner !) working in the dark, ocks, deserts, frozen seas, and burning sands; Smild at thy well-concerted scheme, and beckon'd ild haunts of monsters, poisons, stings, and death. The worm to riot on that rose so red, ch is Earth's melancholy map! but, far
Unfaded ere it fell; one moment's prey ! ore sad! this Earth is a true map of man.
Man's foresight is conditionally wise bounded are its haughty lord's delights
Lorenzo! wisdom into folly turns s woe's wide empire ; where deep troubles toss, Oft, the first instant, its idea fair pud sorrows howl, envenom'd passions bite, To labouring thought is born. How dim our eye! avenous calamities our vitals seize,
The present moment terminates our sight; (next ; ad threatening fate wide opens to devour. Clouds, thick as those on dooinsday, drown the What then am I, who sorrow for myself! We penetrate, we prophesy in vain. age, in infancy, from others' aid
Time is dealt out by particles; and each, all our hope; to teach us to be kind.
Ere mingled with the streaming sands of life, rat, Nature's first, last lesson to mankind : By Fate's inviolable oath is sworn be selfish heart deserves the pain it feels.
Deep silence, “Where eternity begins." ore generous sorrow, while it sinks, cxalts ; By Nature's law, what may be, may be now ; nd conscious virtue mitigates the pang.
There's no prerogative in human hours. or virtue, more than prudence, bids me give In human hearts what bolder thought can rise Foln thought a second channel ; who divide, Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn? hey weaken too, the torrent of their grief.
Where is to-morrow? In another world. ake then, O World! thy much indebted tear : For numbers this is certain ; the reverse ow sad a sight is human happiness,
Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps, o those whose thought can pierce beyond an hour! This peradventure, infamous for lies, thou! whate'er thou art, whose heart exults ! As on a rock of adamant, we build ouldst thou I should congratulate thy fate? (me. Our mountain hopes, spin out eternal schemes, know thou wouldst; thy pride demands it from As we the fatal sisters could out-spin, et thy pride pardon, what thy nature needs, And, big with life's futurities, expire. he salutary censure of a friend.
Not e'en Philander had bespoke his shroud: hou happy wretch! by blindness thou art blest Nor had he cause; a warning was deny'd : y dotage dandled to perpetual smiles.
How many fall as sudden, not as safe! now, smiler! at thy peril art thou pleas'a! As sudden, though for years admonish'd home. hy pleasure is the promise of thy pain.
Of human ills the last extreme beware, lisfortune, like a creditor severe,
Beware, Lorenzo! a slow sudden death, But rises in demand for her delay;
How dreadful that deliberate surprise! ihe makes a scourge of past prosperity,
Be wise to-day ; 't is madness to defer; lo sting thee more, and double thy distress. Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Lorenzo, Fortune makes her court to thec, Thus
on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. Thy fond heart dances, while the Syren sings. Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
NIGHT THE SECOND.
TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP.
“ When the cock crew, he wept" - smote by that er They one day shall not drivel: and their pride
Which looks on me, on all: that power, who bits "On this reversion takes up ready praise ;
This midnight sentinel, with clarion shrill, At least, their own; their future selves applaud ;
Emblem of that which shall awake the dead, How excellent that life they ne'er will lead !
Rouse souls from slumber, into thoughts of Hazei Time lodg'd in their own hands is folly's vails ;
Shall I, too, weep? Where then is fortitude? That lodg'd in fate's, to wisdom they consign;
And, fortitude abandon'd, where is man? The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone ;
I know the terms on which he sees the light; 'T is not in folly, not to scorn a fool;
He that is born, is 'listed; life is war ; And scarce in human wisdom, to do more,
Eternal war with woe. Who bears it best, All promise is poor dilatory man,
Deserves it least. - On other themes I 'U dvel. And that through every stage: when young, indeed, Lorenzo! let me turn my thoughts on thee, In full content we, sometimes, nobly rest,
And thine, on themes may profit ; profit there Unanxious for ourselves ; and only wish,
Where most they need. Themes, too, the gencias As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise.
growth At thirty man suspects himself a fool;
of dear Philander's dust. He thus, though dead Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
May still befriend - What themes ?
Tine's At fifty chides his infamous delay,
drous price, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ;
Death, friendship, and Philander's final scene. In all the magnanimity of thought
So could I touch these themes, as might obtain Resolves; and re-resolves; then dies the same.
Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengag'd, And why? Because he thinks himself immortal. The good deed would delight me; half impress All men think all men mortal, but themselves ;
On my dark cloud an Iris; and from grief Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate
Dost thou mourn Philander's fate? Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden I know thou say'st it: Says thy life the same? dread;
He mourns the dead, who lives as they desire. But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,
Where is that thirst, that avarice of time, Soon close; where, past the shaft, no trace is (o glorious avarice !) thought of death inspires found.
As rumour'd robberies endear our gold ? As from the wing, no scar the sky retains ;
O time! than gold more sacred; more a load The parted wave no furrow from the keel ;
Than lead, to fools; and fools reputed wise. So dies in human hearts the thoughts of death.
What moment granted man without account? E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds What years are squander'd, wisdom's debt unpaid! O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
Our wealth in days, all due to that discharge. Can I forget Philander ? That were strange!
Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he 's at the door, O my full heart ! - But should I give it vent,
Insidious Death! should his strong hand arrest
, The longest night, though longer far, would fail, No composition sets the prisoner free. And the lark listen to my midnight song.
Eternity's inexorable chain The sprightly lark's shrill matin wakes the morn; Fast binds; and vengeance claims the full arrear. Grief 's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breast,
How late I shudder'd on the brink ! how late I strive, with wakeful melody, to cheer
Life call'd for her last refuge in despair! The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel ! like thee,
That time is mine, O Mead! to thee I owe; And call the stars to listen : every star
Fain would I pay thee with eternity. Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay.
But ill my genius answers my desire; Yet be not vain ; there are, who thine excel, My sickly song is mortal, past thy cure. And charm through distant ages : wrapt in shade, Accept the will ; that dies not with my strais. Prisoner of darkness! to the silent hours,
For what calls thy disease, Lorenzo ? not
For Esculapian, but for moral aid.
Youth is not rich in time, it may be poor;
Or, Milton! thee; ah, could I reach your strain ! No moment, but in purchase of its worth; Or his, who made Mæonides our own.
And what its worth, ask death-beds; they can tel. Man too he sung: immortal man I sing ;
Part with it as with life, reluctant ; big Oft bursts my song beyond the bounds of life; With holy hope of nobler time to come ; What, now, but immortality can please ?
Time higher aim'd, still nearer the great mark O had he press'd his theme, pursued the track, Of men and angels ; virtue more divine. Which opens out of darkness into day !
Is this our duty, wisdom, glory, gain? O had he, mounted on his wing of fire,
(These Heaven benign in vital union binds) Soar'd where I sink, and sung immortal man ! And sport we like the natives of the bough, How had it blest mankind, and rescued ine! When vernal suns inspire? Amusement reigus