She led o'er vaies and mountains, to explore What healing virtue swells the tender veins Of herbs and flow'rs; or what the beams of morn Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind In balmy tears. But some to higher hopes Were destin'd: some within a finer mould She wrought and temper'd with a purer flame. To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds The world's harmonious volume, there to read The transcript of himself. On ev'ry part They trace the bright impressions of his hand; In earth, or air, the meadow's purple stores, The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd That uncreated Beauty which delights
The Mind supreme. They also feel her charms, Enamour'd they partake th' eternal joy.
SAY, why was man so eminently rais'd Amid the vast creation? why ordain'd
Through life and death to dart his piercing eye, With thoughts beyond the limits of his frame? But that th' Omnipotent might send him forth, In sight of mortal and immortal pow'rs, As on a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice; to exalt His gen'rous aim to all diviner deeds;
To chase each partial purpose from his breast; And through the mists of passion and of sense, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfalt'ring, while the voice Of Truth and Virtue, up the steep ascent Of Nature, calls him to his high reward,
Th' applauding smile of Heav'n. Else wherefore burn In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope,
That breathes from day to day sublimer things,
And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind, With such resistless ardour to embrace Majestic forms; impatient to be free; Spurning the gross control of wilful might; Proud of the strong contention of her toils; Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns To Heav'n's broad fire his unconstrained view, Than to the glimm'ring of a waxen flame! Who that from Alpine heights his lab'ring eye Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey Nilus, or Ganges, rolling his bright wave
Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade,
And continents of sand, will turn his gaze, To mark the windings of a scanty rill,
That murmurs at his feet? The bigh-born soul Disdains to rest her Heav'n-aspiring wing Beneath it's native quarry. Tir'd of earth And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm; Rides on the volley'd lightning through the heav'ns; Or yok'd with whirlwinds and the northern blast Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars The blue profound, and hov'ring round the Sun, Beholds him pouring the redundant stream Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway Bend the reluctant planets to absolve
The fated rounds of time. Thence far effus'd She darts her swiftness up the long career Of devious comets; through it's burning signs, Exulting, measures the perennial wheel Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars, Whose blended light as with a milky zone Invests the orient. Now amaz'd she views Th' empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold, Beyond this concave Heav'n, their calm abode; And fields of radiance, whose unfading light Has travell❜d the profound six thousand years, Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. Ev'n on the barriers of the world untir'd She meditates th' eternal depth below;
Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up In that immense of being. There her hopes Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth Of mortal man, the sov'reign Maker said, That not in humble nor in brief delight, Not in the fading echoes of renown,
Pow'r's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flow'ry lap, The soul should find enjoyment: but from these Turning disdainful to an equal good,
Through all th' ascent of things enlarge her view, Till ev'ry bound at length should disappear, And infinite perfection close the scene.
CALL now to mind what high capacious pow'rs Lie folded up in man: how far beyond The praise of mortals may th' eternal growth Of nature to perfection half divine
Expand the blooming soul! What pity then Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth Her tender blossom, choke the streams of life, And biast her spring! Far otherwise design'd Almighty Wisdom; Nature's happy cares Th' obedient heart far otherwise incline. Witness the sprightly joy, when aught unknown Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active pow'r To brisker measures: witness the neglect Of all familiar prospects, though beheld With transport once; the fond attentive gaze Of young astonishment; the sober zeal Of age, commenting on prodigious things. For such the bounteous providence of Heav'n, In ev'ry breast implanting this desire Of objects new and strange, to urge us on, With unremitted labour to pursue
Those sacred stores, that wait the rip'ning soul In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words To paint it's pow'r? For this, the daring youth Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, In foreign climes to rove; the pensive sage, Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untir'd The virgin follows, with enchanted step, The mazes of some wise and wondrous tale, From morn to eve, unmindful of her form, Unmindful of the happy dress that stole The wishes of the youth, when ev'ry maid With envy pin'd. Hence finally by night The village matron, round the blazing hearth, Suspends the infant audience with her tales, Breathing astonishment! ef witching rhymes And evil spirits; of the death-bed call
Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls Ris'n from the grave to ease the heavy guilt Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave The torch of Hell around the murd'rer's bed. At ev'ry solemn pause the crowd recoil, Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd With shiv'ring sighs: till eager for th' event, Around the beldam all erect they hang,
Each trembling heart with grateful terrours quell'd.
WHEN erst Contagion, with mephitic breath, And wither'd Famine, urg'd the work of death: Marseilles' good bishop, London's gen'rous mayor, With food and faith, with med'cine and with pray'r, Rais'd the weak head, and stay'd the parting sigh, Or with new life relum'd the swimming eye.-
-And now, Philanthropy! thy rays divine Dart round the globe from Zembla to the line; O'er each dark prison plays the cheering light, Like northern lustres o'er the vault of night. - From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crown'd, Where'er mankind and misery are found,
O'er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow, Thy Howard journ'ying seeks the house of Wo. Down many a winding step to dungeons dank, Where Anguish wails aloud, and fetters clank; To caves bestrew'd with many a mould'ring bone, And cells, whose echoes only learn to groan; Where no kind bars a whisp'ring friend disclose, No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows, He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth, Profuse of toil, and prodigal of health; With soft assuasive eloquence expands Pow'r's rigid heart, and opes his clenching hands; Leads stern-ey'd Justice to the dark domains, If not to sever, to relax the chains;
Or guides awaken'd Mercy through the gloom, And shows the prison sister to the tomb!- Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife, To her fond husband liberty and life!- -The spirits of the good, who bend from high Wide o'er these earthly scenes their partial eye, When first, array'd in Virtue's purest robe, They saw her Howard traversing the globe; Saw round his brows her sunlike glory blaze circles of unwearied rays; arrowy Mistook a mortal for an angel guest, And ask'd what seraph foot the earth impress'd. Onward he moves!Disease and Death retire, -And murm'ring demons hate him, and admire.
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