Day after day he pierced the dark abyss
Till he had reach'd its diamantine floor, -
Whence he drew up an island; as a tree
Grows in the desert from some random seed
Dropt by a wild bird. Grain by grain it rose,
And touch'd at length the surface; there expanding
Beneath the fostering influence of his eye,
Prolific seasons, light, and showers, and dew,
Aided by earthquakes, hurricanes, volcanos,
(All agents of the universal sun,)
Conspired to form, advance, enrich, and break
The level reef, till hills and dales appear'd,
And the small isle became a continent,
Whose bounds his ancestors had never traced.
Thither in time, by means inscrutable,
Plants, animals, and man himself, were brought;
And with the idolaters the gods they served.
These tales tradition told him he believed,
Though all were fables, yet they shadow'd truth;
That truth, with heart, soul, mind, and strength, he
O'twas a spectacle for angels, bound
On embassies of mercy to this earth,
To gaze on with compassion and delight,-
Yea, with desire that they might be his helpers,
To see a dark endungeon'd spirit roused,
And struggling into glorious liberty,
Though Satan's legions watch'd at every portal,
And held him by ten thousand manacles!

:

[sought.

Such was the being whom I here descried, And fix'd my earnest expectation on him; For now or never might my hope be proved,

How near, by searching, man might find out God.

He took the child; he brought it up for her:
It was the latest blessing of his life;
And while his soul explored immensity,
In search of something undefinedly great,
This infant was the link which bound that soul
To this poor world, where he had not a wish
Or hope, beyond the moment, for himself.

The little one was dancing at his side,
And dragging him with petty violence
Hither and thither from the onward path,
To find a bird's nest or to hunt a fly :
His feign'd resistance and unfeign'd reluctance
But made the boy more resolute to rule
The grandsire with his fond caprice. The sage,
Though dallying with the minion's wayward will,
His own premeditated course pursued,
And while, in tones of sportive tenderness,
He answer'd all its questions, and ask❜d others
As simple as its own, yet wisely framed
To wake and prove an infant's faculties,--
As though its mind were some sweet instrument,
And he, with breath and touch, were finding out
What stops or keys would yield the richest
music,-

All this was by-play to the scene within
The busy theatre of his own breast:

Keen and absorbing thoughts were working there,
And his heart travail'd with unutter'd pangs;
Sigh after sigh, escaping to his lips,
Was check'd or turn'd into some lively word,
To hide the bitter conflict from his child.

At length they struck into the woods, and thence

The world which met his senses, but in vain
Would charm his spirit within its magic circle,
-Still with benign and meek simplicity
He hearken'd to the prattle of a babe,
Which he was leading by the hand; but scarce
Could he restrain its eagerness to break
Loose, and run wild with joy among the bushes.
It was his grandson, now the only stay
Of his bereaved affections; all his kin

Had fall'n before him, and his youngest daughter
Bequeath'd this infant with her dying lips:
"O take this child, my father! take this child,
And bring it up for me; so may it live
To be the latest blessing of thy life."

At their abrupt approach, the startled eagle
Took wing above their heads; the boy, alarm'd, —
Nor less delighted when no peril came,
Follow'd its flight with eyes and hands upraised,
And, bounding forward on the verdant slope,
Watch'd it diminish, till a gnat, that cross'd
His sight, eclipsed it: when he look'd again
"Twas gone, and for an instant he felt sad,
Till some new object won his gay attention.
His grandsire stepp'd to take the eagle's stand,
And gaze at freedom on the boundless prospect,
But started back, and held his breath with awe,
So suddenly, so gloriously, it broke

From heaven, earth, sea, and air, at once upon him.
The tranquil ocean roll'd beneath his feet;

The shores on cach hand lessen'd from the view;
The landscape glow'd with tropical luxuriance;
The sky was fleck'd with gold and crimson clouds,
That seem'd to emanate from nothing there,
Born in the blue and infinite expanse,
Where just before the eye might seek in vain
An evening shadow as a daylight star.

There stood the patriarch amidst a scene
Of splendour and beatitude, himself
A diadem of glory o'er the whole;
For none but he could comprehend the beauty,
The bliss, diffused throughout the universe:
Yet holier beauty, higher bliss, he sought,
Of which that universe was but the veil,
Wrought with inexplicable hieroglyphics.
Here then he stood, alone, but not forsaken
Of Him without whose leave a sparrow falls not.
Wide open lay the Book of Deity;

The page was Providence: but none, alas!
Had taught him letters; when he look'd, he wept
To feel himself forbidden to peruse it.
-" for a messenger of mercy now,

Like Philip when he join'd the Eunuch's chariot!
O for the privilege to burst upon him,
And show the blind, the dead, the light of life!"

I hush'd the exclamation, for he seem'd To hear it; turn'd his head, and look'd all round, As if an eye invisible beheld him,

A voice had spoken out of solitude:

- Yea, such an eye beheld him, such a voice Had spoken; but they were not mine: his life He would have yielded on the spot to see That eye, to hear that voice, and understand it: It was the eye of GOD, the voice of Nature. All in a moment on his knees he fell; And, with imploring arms outstretch'd to heaven, And eyes no longer wet with hopeless tears, But beaming forth sublime intelligence, In words through which his heart's pulsation throbb'd,

And made mine tremble to their accents, pray'd: "Oh! if there be a Power above all power, A Light above all light, a Name above

All other names, in heaven and earth; that Power,
That Light, that Name, I call upon !". He paused,
Bow'd his hoar head with reverence, closed his eyes,
And, with clasp'd hands upon his breast, began
In under tones, that rose in fervency,

Like incense kindled on a holy altar,
Till his whole soul became one tongue of fire,
Of which these words were faint and poor expres-

sions:

-"Oh! if Thou art, Thou knowest that I am : Behold me, hear me, pity me, despise not

The prayer which-if Thou art-Thou hast inspired,

Or wherefore seek I now a God unknown?
And feel for Thee, if haply I may find
In whom I live and move and have my being?
Reveal Thyself to me; reveal thy power,
Thy light, thy name, -that I may fear, adore,
Obey,—and, oh! that I might love Thee too!
For, if Thou art-it must be-Thou art good;
And I would be the creature of thy goodness:
Oh! hear and answer:-let me know Thou hearest!
-Know that, as surely as Thou art, so surely
My prayer and supplication are accepted!”

He waited silently; there came no answer :
The roaring of the tide beneath, the gale
Rustling the forest-leaves, the notes of birds,
And hum of insects, these were all the sounds
That met familiarly around his ear.

He look'd abroad: there shone no light from heaven
But that of sunset; and no shapes appear'd
But glistering clouds, which melted through the sky
As imperceptibly as they had come;
While all terrestrial objects seem'd the same
As he had ever known them; - still he look'd
And listen'd, till a cold sick feeling sunk
Into his heart, and blighted every hope.

The child; but feeling fail'd not tears of light
Slid down his cheek; he too was on his knees,
Clasping his little hands upon his heart,
Unconscious why, yet doing what he saw
His grandsire do, and saying what he said.
For while he gather'd buds and flowers to twine
A garland for the old gray hairs, whose locks
Were lovelier in his sight than all the blooms
On which the bees and butterflies were feasting,
The Patriarch's agony of spirit caught

His eye, his ear, his heart; he dropp'd the flowers,
And, kneeling down among them, wept and pray'd
Like him, with whom he felt such strange emotions
As rapt his infant-soul to heavenly heights;
Though whence they sprang, and what they meant,
he knew not:

But they were good, and that was all to him,
Who wonder'd why it was so sweet to weep;
Nor would he quit his humble attitude,
Nor cease repeating fragments of that lesson,
Thus learnt spontaneously from lips whose words
Were almost dearer to him than their kisses,
When on his lap the old man dandled him,
And told him simple stories of his mother.

Recovering thought, the venerable sire Beheld, and recognised, his darling boy, Thus beautiful and innocent, engaged In the same worship with himself. His heart Leap'd at the sight: he flung away despondence, While joy unspeakable and full of glory Broke through the pagan darkness of his soul. He ran and snatch'd the infant in his arms, Embraced him passionately, wept aloud,

The Power above all power, the Light above
All light, the Name above all other names;
Whom he had call'd upon, whom he had found,
Yet worshipp'd only as "the Unknown God," -
That nearest step which uninstructed man
Can take from Nature up to Deity.

To Him again, standing erect, he pray'd;
And, while he pray'd, high in his arms he held
That dearest treasure of his heart, the child
Of his last dying daughter,-now the sole
Hope of his life, and orphan of his house.
He held him as an offering up to heaven,
A living sacrifice unto the GOD

Whom he invoked :-"Oh! Thou who art!" he cried,

"And hast reveal'd that mystery to me,
Hid from all generations of my fathers,
Or, if once known, forgotten and perverted;
I may not live to learn Thee better here;
But, oh! let this my son, mine only son,
Whom thus I dedicate to Thee;-let him,
Let him be taught thy will, and choose
Obedience to it ;- may he fear thy power,
Walk in thy light, now dawning out of darkness;
And, oh!-my last, last prayer, --to him reveal
The unutterable secret of thy Name!"

He paused; then, with the transport of a seer,
Went on: -"That Name may all my nation

know;

And all that hear it worship at the sound,

When thou shalt with a voice from heaven proclaim it!

And so it surely shall be."

"For Thou art ;

The child, yet panting with the breath of prayer.

They ceased; then went rejoicing down the mountains,

Through the cool glen, where not a sound was heard,

Amidst the dark solemnity of eve,

But the loud purling of the little brook,
And the low murmur of the distant occan.
Thence to their home beyond the hills in peace
They walk'd; and, when they reach'd their humble
threshold,

The glittering firmament was full of stars.
-He died that night; his grandchild lived to see
The Patriarch's prayer and prophecy fulfill'd.

Here end my song; here ended not the vision: I heard seven thunders uttering their voices, And wrote what they did utter; but 'tis seal'd Within the volume of my heart, where thoughts, Unbodied yet in vocal words, await The quickening warmth of poesy to bring Their forms to light, like secret characters, Invisible till open'd to the fire;

Or like the potter's paintings, colourless

Till they have pass'd to glory through the flames.
Changes more wonderful than those gone by,
More beautiful, transporting, and sublime,
To all the frail affections of our nature,
To all the immortal faculties of man :
Such changes did I witness; not alone
In one poor Pelican Island, nor on one
Barbarian continent, where man himself
Could scarcely soar above the Pelican:
-The world as it hath been in ages past,
The world as now it is, the world to come,
Far as the eye of prophecy can pierce ; -
These I beheld, and still in memory's rolls
They have their pages and their pictures: these,
Another day, a nobler song may show.

Vain boast! another day may not be given; This song may be my last; for I have reach'd That slippery descent, whence man looks back With melancholy joy on all he cherish'd, Around with love unfeign'd on all he's losing, Forward with hope that trembles while it turns To the dim point where all our knowledge ends. I am but one among the living; one Among the dead I soon shall be, and one Among unnumber'd millions yet unborn;

The sum of Adam's mortal progeny,
From Nature's birthday to her dissolution :
-Lost in infinitude, my atom-life

Seems but a sparkle of the smallest star
Amidst the scintillations of ten thousand,
Twinkling incessantly; no ray returning
To shine a second moment where it shone
Once, and no more for ever:-so I pass.
The world grows darker, lonelier, and more silent,
As I go down into the vale of years;

For the grave's shadows lengthen in advance,

And the grave's loneliness appals my spirit,
And the grave's silence sinks into my heart,
Till I forget existence in the thought
Of non-existence, buried for a while
In the still sepulchre of my own mind,
Itself imperishable:-ah! that word,
Like the archangel's trumpet, wakes me up
To deathless resurrection. Heaven and earth
Shall pass away,- but that which thinks within

me,

Must think for ever; that which feels, must feel: — I am, and I can never cease to be.

O thou that readest! take this parable Home to thy bosom; think as I have thought, And feel as I have felt, through all the changes Which Time, Life, Death, the world's great actors,

wrought,

While centuries swept like morning dreams before

me,

And thou shalt find this moral to my song: -Thou art, and thou canst never cease to be: What then are time, life, death, the world to thee?

I may not answer; ask Eternity.

INTRODUCTION.

IT has been mentioned already, in the General Preface to this Edition of my Poems, that the first number of the Iris (succeeding to the Sheffield Register) was published by myself, and a friend whose name did not appear, on the 4th of July, 1794. He, however, soon becoming weary of the vexation, and alarmed by the peril to which we were exposed in the conduct of an independent journal, at the end of the first year retired from the conflict, leaving me in possession of a field, every inch of which was to be maintained either by inflexibly passive resistance, or by alternate aggression and defence, against numerous adversaries banded against my predecessor, and whose disappointed vengeance fell upon me, -- more from the misfortune of having stepped into his place when he left the kingdom, than for any offences that I had committed, or any personal spleen against myself. But I was singled out, as will appear in the sequel, not only as an object of suspicion from the situation which I occupied, but I was watched at every step of my progress as a proper object for prosecution when a feasible pretext could be found, an example being wanted to deter others from doing what I had not yet done, but what they were doing with impunity, because they were either above or below the mark of legal visitation. How this was effected I will now tell.

Little more than a month after I had become connected with the newspaper, I was one day called into the bookseller's shop, where business-orders were received. There I found a poor-looking elderly man, whom I recollected to have seen in the street a little while before; when I was attracted both by his grotesque appearance, and his comical address as a ballad-monger. He stood with a bundle of pamphlets in his hand, crying out in a peculiar tone, "Here you have twelve songs for a penny!" Then he recapitulated at full length the title of each,

thus: "The first song in the book is”. -so and so; "The second song in the book "—so and so; "The third song"-so and so; and on he went, “so and so," to the end of the catalogue. He now offered me the specimen of an article in his line, and asked what he must pay for six quires of the same. I immediately replied that I did not deal in such commodities, having better employment for my presses; he must therefore apply elsewhere (I believe I named a place where he might be served). “But," he rejoined, like one who had some knowledge of the terms used by printers, "you have this standing in your office.' "That is more than I know," was my answer. Taking up the printed leaf, I perceived that it contained two copies of verses, with each of which I had been long familiar, but had never seen them coupled in that shape before. At the top of the page was the impression of a wood-cut (Liberty and the British Lion), which I recognised as having figured in the frontispiece of an extinct periodical, issued by my predecessor, and entitled “The Patriot." The paper, also, of which a large stock had devolved to me, was of a particular kind, being the material of certain forms for the registration of freeholds, under a still-born act of parliament, printed on one side only, and which had been sold for waste. On discovering this, I went up into the office, and asked when and for whom such things as I held in my hand had been printed, as I had no knowledge of the job. "Oh, sir," said the foreman, "they were set up ever so long ago by Jack,” (Mr. Gales's apprentice, who had not been transferred to me,) "for himself, and to give away to his companions; and the matter is now standing in the types just as it was when you bought the stock in the office."— "Indeed," I exclaimed; "but how came the balladseller, who was bawling out his twelve songs for a penny the other day, to have a copy?"-In explanation of this he stated, that he had formerly known him when he himself was an apprentice in an office