PLEASURE, Sweet power, to Nature dear! I never wish to be austere; I seek the happiest state. PLEASURE replies with modest smile, "To me they boast alliance near; Meanwhile they are of CIRCE's crew, "CIRCE, my rival, harlot base! Her blinded followers she betrays; "Mine is a purer, nobler rise; VIRTUE, my parent, from the skies Came down to bless the earth With me, the child she bore to Love; "VIRTUE, I grant, is often tried By sickness, sorrow, envy, pride; Nor is ashamed to mourn. But trial strengthens; conscience cheers, Of death and woe prevents the fears ; Assaults to victory turn. "Of active life the hard turmoils, Of friendship, sympathy, the pains, "But who can paint the heartfelt glow Of holy love, of thought the flow Reciprocal, sincere; Faith's firm repose, hope's vision bright, Of God's approving face the light, "Nor deem such bliss an empty form; "Tis solid, will defy the storm, And keep the breast serene; When all the merriment of vice, "An aching void where naught can come, Let braggart sinners loudly boast; 66 They dare not face rich Folly's frown; To saucy Greatness they bow down. Held fast in Passion's chain They talk of liberty: 'tis prate; The slaves of appetite and fate, They start at every pain. "Lest death their trembling souls should seize, Their blood with mortal horrors freeze, And all their prospects end. At that inevitable hour, My parent, VIRTUE, proves her power, An everlasting friend! "In life, in death, I follow her; She, she alone, can joys confer, To fill the human heart: From heaven together first we came : SPRIN G. AN ODE. BY DR. JOHNSON. STERN Winter now, by Spring repress'd, And Nature, on her naked breast, Now o'er the rural kingdom roves And Vegetation paints the plain. Unhappy! whom to beds of pain Arthritic tyranny consigns; Whom smiling Nature courts in vain, Though Rapture sings and Beauty shines. Yet though my limbs disease invades, And bears me to the peaceful shades Where Here stop, my soul, thy rapid flight, Here let me through the vales pursue Once more great Nature's works renew, From false caresses, causeless strife, Here let me learn the use of life, When best enjoy'd-when most improved. Teach me, thou venerable bower, Cool Meditation's quiet seat, The generous scorn of venal power, The silent grandeur of retreat. When Pride by guilt to greatness climbs, Or raging factions rush to war, Here let me learn to shun, the crimes I can't prevent, and will not share. |