The native honcurs of the human foul,
Nor fo effac'd the image of its fire.
AY, what is tafte, but the internal pow'rs
Active, and ftrong, and feelingly alive To each fine impulfe? a difcerning fenfe Of decent and fublime, with quick difguft From things deform'd, or difarrang'd, or grofs In fpecies? This nor gems, nor ftores of gold, Nor purple ftate, nor culture can bestow; But GoD alone, when firft his active hand Imprints the facred bias of the foul. He, mighty Parent! wife and juft in all, Free as the vital breeze or light of heav'n, Reveals the charms of nature. Afk the fwain Who journies homeward from a fummer-day's Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils. And due repofe, he loiters to behold The funfhine gleaming as thro' amber clouds, O'er all the western sky; full foon, I ween, His rude expreffion and untutor'd airs, Beyond the pow'r of language, will unfold The form of beauty fmiling at his heart,
How lovely! how commanding! But tho' Heav'n
every Of love and admiration, yet in vain,
breaft hath fown these early feeds
Without fair culture's kind parental aid, Without enlivening funs, and genial show'rs,
And shelter from the blaft, in vain we hope The tender plant should rear its blooming head, Or yield the harvest promis'd in its spring. Nor yet will every foil with equal ftores Repay the tiller's labour; or attend His will, obfequious, whether to produce The olive or the laurel: diff'rent minds Incline to diff'rent objects: one pursues The vaft alone, the wonderful, the wild; Another fighs for harmony, and grace,
And gentleft beauty. Hence when lightning fires The arch of heav'n, and thunders rock the ground; When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, Heaves his tempeftuous billows to the sky; Amid the mighty uproar, while below
The nations, tremble, Shakespear looks abroad From fome high cliff, fuperior, and enjoys The elemental war. But Waller longs, All on the margin of fome flow'ry stream, To fpread his careless limbs amid the cool Of plantane fhades, and to the list'ning deer, The tale of flighted vows and love's disdain Refounds foft-warbling all the live-long day: Confenting Zephyr fighs; the weeping rill Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves ; And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. Such and fo various are the tastes of men.
THE PLEASURES ARISING CULTIVATED IMAGINATION.
BLEST of heav'n, whom not the languid fongs Of luxury, the Siren! not the bribes
Of fordid wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils Of pageant honour, can feduce to leave
Thofe ever-blooming fweets, which from the ftore Of nature, fair imagination culls
To charm th' enliven'd foul! What tho' not all Of mortal offspring can attain the height Of envied life; tho' only few poffefs Patrician treasures or imperial fate ;
Yet nature's care, to all her children just, With richer treasures and an ampler ftate Indows at large whatever happy man
Will deign to use them.
His the city's pomp, The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns
The princely dome, the column and the arch, The breathing marbles and the fculptur'd gold, Beyond the proud poffeffor's narrow claim, His tuneful breaft enjoys. For him the fpring. Diftills her dews, and from the filken gem Its lucid leaves unfolds: for him, the hand Of autumn tinges every fertile branch With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn. Each paffing hour sheds tribute from her wings; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes-
The fetting fun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Afcends, but whence his bofom can partake Fresh pleafure, unreprov'd. Nor thence partakes Fresh pleasure only for th' attentive mind By this harmonious action on her pow'rs, Becomes herfelf harmonious: wont fo oft In outward things to meditate the charm Of facred order, foon fhe feeks at home To find a kindred order, to exert Within herself this elegance of love,
This fair-infpir'd delight: her temper'd pow'rs, Refine at length, and every paffion wears A chafter, milder, more attractive mien. But if to ampler profpects, if to gaze On nature's form, where negligent of all Thefe leffer graces, the affumes the port Of that eternal Majefty that weigh'd The world's foundations, if to these the mind Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far
Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms Of fervile custom cramp her gen'rous pow'rs? Would fordid policies, the barb'rous growth Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down To tame purfuits, to indolence and fear? Lo! the appeals to nature, to the winds And rolling waves, the fun's unwearied course, The elements and feafons: all declare
For what th' eternal Maker has ordain'd The pow'rs of man: we feel within ourselves His energy divine: he tells the heart,
He meant, he made us to behold and loye
What he beholds and loves, the general orb Of life and being; to be great like him, Beneficent and active. Thus the men
Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself Hold converfe: grow familiar, day by day, With his conceptions, act upon his plan; And form to his, the relish of their souls.
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