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How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His defolate domain. Behold fond man!
See here thy pictur'd life: pass fome few years,
Thy flow'ring fpring, thy fummer's ardent ftrength,
Thy fober autumn fading into age,

And pale concluding winter comes at last,
And thuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled,
Thofe dreams of greatnefs? thofe unfolid hopes
Of happiness? those longings after fame ?
Those reftlefs cares? those busy bustling days?
Those gay spent, feftive nights? thofe veering thoughts
Loft between good and ill, that fhar'd thy life?
All now are vanifh'd! Virtue fole furvives,
Immortal never failing friend of man,
His guide to happiness on high. And fee!
'Tis come, the glorious morn! the second birth.
Of heav'n and earth! awak'ning nature hears
The new creating word; and ftarts to life,
In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death.
For ever free. The great eternal scheme,
Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting as the profpect wider spreads.
To reafon's eye refin'd clears up apace.

Ye vainly wife! Ye blind prefumptuous! now,
Confounded in. the duft, adore that Power,
And Wisdom oft arraign'd: fee now the cause
Why unaffuming worth in fecret liv'd,

And dy'd neglected: why the good man's fhare
In life was gall and bitterness of foul :
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd
In ftarving folitude; while luxury,

In palaces, lay training her low thought,
To form unreal wants: why heav'n born truth,
And moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of fuperftition's fcourge: why licens'd pain,
That cruel fpoiler, that embosom'd foe,
Imbitter'd all our blifs. Ye good distress'd!
Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's preffure, yet bear up a while
And what your bounded view, which only faw
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more :
The forms of wint'ry time will quickly pafs,
And one unbounded fpring encircle all.

THOMSON

SECTION VIII.

ADAM'S ADVICE TO EVE, TO AVOID TEMPTATION. ·

"O WOMAN, beft are all things as the will
Of God ordain'd them; his creating hand
Nothing imperfect or deficient left

Of all that he created, much less man,
Or aught that might his happy ftate fecure,
Secure from outward force. Within himfelf ́
The danger lies, yet lies within his power;
Against his will he can receive no harm.
But God left free the will; for what, obeys
Reafon, is free, and reafon he made right;
But bid her well beware, and still erect,
Left, by fome fair appearing good furprif'd,
She dictate falfe, and misinform the will
To do what God exprefsly hath forbid.
Not then miftruft, but tender love, enjoins

That I fhould mind thee oft; and mind thou me..
Firm we fubfift, yet poffible to fwerve,
Since reason not impoffibly may meet
Some fpecious object by the foe fuborn'd,
And fall into deception unaware,

Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warn'd.
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid
Were better, and most likely if from me
Thou fever not; trial will come unfought.
Wouldst thou approve thy conftancy? approve
Firk thy obedience; th' other who can know,
Not feeing thee attempted, who atteft?
But if thou think, trial unfought may find
Us both fecurer than thus warn'd thou feem'ft,
Go; for thy tay, not free, absents thee more;
Go in thy native innocence; rely

On what thou haft of virtue, fummon all ;

For God towards thee hath done his part; do thine."

SECTION IX.

ON PROCRASTINATION.

Be wife today; 'tis madness to defer;

Next day the fatal precedent will plead ;

MILTON

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Thus on, till wisdom is pufh'd out of life.
Procraftination is the thief of time.
Year after year it steals, till all are fled;
And, to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears
The palm, "That all men are about to live;"
For ever on the brink of being born.
All pay themselves the compliment to think,
They, one day, fhall not drivel; and their pride
On this reverfion takes up ready praife;

At least, their own; their future felves applauds :
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead !
Time lodg'd in their own hands is folly's vails;
That lodg'd in fate's, to wifdom they confign;
The thing they can't but purpofe, they postpone.
'Tis not in folly, not to fcorn a fool;

And fcarce in human wifdom to do more.
All promife is poor dilatory man;

And that thro' ev'ry ftage. When young, indeed,
In full content, we fometimes nobly reft,
Unanxious for ourfelves; and only with,
As duteous fons, our fathers were more wife.
At thirty, man fufpects himself a fool :
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ;;
At fifty, chides his infamous delay;
Pushes his prudent purpofe to refolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought,
Refolves, and re-refolves, then dies the fame.

And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal, but themselves;
Themselves, when fome alarming fhock of fate
Strikes thro' their wounded hearts the fudden dread :
But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,
Soon clofe; where, past the shaft, no trace is found.
As from the wing no fear the fky retains ;
The parted wave no furrow from the keel;
So dies in human hearts the thought of death.
Ev'n with the tender tear which Nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.

YOUNG.

SECTION X.

THAT PHILOSOPHY, WHICH STOPS AT SECONDARY CAUSES, REPROVED,

HAPPY the man who fees a God employ'd
In all the good and ill that checker life!
Refolving all events, with their effects
And manifold refults, into the will
And arbitration wife of the Supreme.
Did not his eye rule all things, and intend
The leaft of our concerns; (finee from the leaft
The greatest oft originate ;) could chance
Find place in his dominion, or difpofe
One lawless particle to thwart his plan;
Then God might be furprif'd, and unforeseen
Contingence might alarm him, and disturb
The smooth and equal courfe of his affairs.
This truth, philofophy, though eagle-eyed
In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks;
And having found his inftrument, forgets
Or difregards, or, more presumptuous still,
Denies the pow'r that wields it. God proclaims.
His hot difpleafure against foolish men

That live an atheift life; involves the heav'n
In tempests; quits his grafp upon the winds,
And gives them all their fury; bids a plague
Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin,

And putrify the breath of blooming health.
He calls for famine, and the meagre fiend
Blows mildew from between his thrivel'd lips,
And taints the golden ear; he fprings his mines,
And defolates a nation at a blast;

Forth fteps the fpruce philofopher, and tells
Of homogenial and difcordant fprings
And principles; of caufes, how they work
By neceffary laws their fure effects,
Of action and reaction. He has found
The fource of the difeafe that nature feels;
And bids the world take heart and banish fear.
Thou fool will thy difcovery of the caufe
Sufpend th' effect, or heal it? Has not God

Still wrought by means fince first he made the world ?
And did he not of old employ his means

To drown it? What is his creation lefs
Than a capacious refervoir of means,
Form'd for his ufe, and ready at his will?

Go, drefs thine eyes with eye falve; afk of him,
Or afk of whomfoever he has taught ;

And learn, though late, the genuine caufe of all.

SECTION XI.

COWPER.

INDIGNANT SENTIMENTS ON NATIONAL PREJUDICES AND HA-TRED; AND ON SLAVERY.

On for a lodge in fome vaft wilderness,

Some boundless contiguity of fhade,
Where rumour of oppreffion and deceit,'
Of unfuccefsful or fuccefsful war,

Might never reach me more! My ear is pain'd,
My foul is fick with ev'ry days report

Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill'd.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart
It does not feel for man. The natʼral bond
Of brotherhood is fever'd, as the flax
That falls afunder at the touch of fire.

He finds his fellow guilty of a fkin

Not colour'd like his own; and having pow'r
'T' inforce the wrong, for fuch a worthy cause
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
Lands interfected by a narrow frith

Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd,
Make enemies of nations, who had elfe,
Like kindred drops, been mingled into one.
Thus man devotes his brother, and deftroys;
And worse than all, and most to be deplor'd,
As human nature's broadeft, fouleft blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his fweat
With ftripes, that mercy, with a bleeding heart,
Weeps when the fees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man! And what man feeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush
And hang his head, to think himself a man?
I would not have a flave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I fleep,

And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth

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