Poems on various subjects, religious and moral Part 4

On IMAGINATION.

THY various works, imperial queen, we see, How bright their forms! how deck'd with pomp by thee!

Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand, And all attest how potent is thine hand.

From Helicon's refulgent heights attend, Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend: To tell her glories with a faithful tongue, Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song.

Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies, Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes, Whose silken fetters all the senses bind, And soft captivity involves the mind.

Imagination! who can sing thy force?

Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?

Soaring through air to find the bright abode, Th' empyreal palace of the thund'ring G.o.d, We on thy pinions can surpa.s.s the wind, And leave the rolling universe behind: From star to star the mental optics rove, Measure the skies, and range the realms above.

There in one view we grasp the mighty whole, Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul.

Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise; The frozen deeps may break their iron bands, And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands.

Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign, And with her flow'ry riches deck the plain; Sylva.n.u.s may diffuse his honours round, And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd: Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose, And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose.

Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain, O thou the leader of the mental train: In full perfection all thy works are wrought, And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought.

Before thy throne the subject-pa.s.sions bow, Of subject-pa.s.sions sov'reign ruler thou; At thy command joy rushes on the heart, And through the glowing veins the spirits dart.

Fancy might now her silken pinions try To rise from earth, and sweep th' expanse on high: From t.i.thon's bed now might Aurora rise, Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies, While a pure stream of light o'erflows the skies.

The monarch of the day I might behold, And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold, But I reluctant leave the pleasing views, Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse; Winter austere forbids me to aspire, And northern tempests damp the rising fire; They chill the tides of Fancy's flowing sea, Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.

A Funeral POEM on the Death of C. E.

an Infant of Twelve Months.

THROUGH airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg'd he sees unnumber'd systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin'd round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound.

Th' ethereal now, and now th' empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond'ring eyes: The angels view him with delight unknown, Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne; Then smilling thus: "To this divine abode, "The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of G.o.d, "Thrice welcome thou." The raptur'd babe replies, "Thanks to my G.o.d, who s.n.a.t.c.h'd me to the skies, "E'er vice triumphant had possess'd my heart, "E'er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart, "E'er yet on sin's base actions I was bent, "E'er yet I knew temptation's dire intent; "E'er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt, "E'er vanity had led my way to guilt, "But, soon arriv'd at my celestial goal, "Full glories rush on my expanding soul."

Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round Clapt their glad wings, the heav'nly vaults resound.

Say, parents, why this unavailing moan?

Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan?

To Charles, the happy subject of my song, A brighter world, and n.o.bler strains belong.

Say would you tear him from the realms above By thoughtless wishes, and prepost'rous love?

Doth his felicity increase your pain?

Or could you welcome to this world again The heir of bliss? with a superior air Methinks he answers with a smile severe, "Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there."

But still you cry, "Can we the sigh borbear, "And still and still must we not pour the tear?

"Our only hope, more dear than vital breath, "Twelve moons revolv'd, becomes the prey of death; "Delightful infant, nightly visions give "Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive, "We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast, "The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest."

To yon bright regions let your faith ascend, Prepare to join your dearest infant friend In pleasures without measure, without end.

To Captain H-----D, of the 65th Regiment.

SAY, muse divine, can hostile scenes delight The warrior's bosom in the fields of fight?

Lo! here the christian and the hero join With mutual grace to form the man divine.

In H-----D see with pleasure and surprise, Where valour kindles, and where virtue lies: Go, hero brave, still grace the post of fame, And add new glories to thine honour'd name, Still to the field, and still to virtue true: Britannia glories in no son like you.

To the Right Honourable WILLIAM, Earl of DARTMOUTH, His Majesty's Princ.i.p.al Secretary of State for North-America, &c.

HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: The northern clime beneath her genial ray, Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway: Elate with hope her race no longer mourns, Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns, While in thine hand with pleasure we behold The silken reins, and Freedom's charms unfold.

Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies She shines supreme, while hated faction dies: Soon as appear'd the G.o.ddess long desir'd, Sick at the view, she languish'd and expir'd; Thus from the splendors of the morning light The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night.

No more, America, in mournful strain Of wrongs, and grievance unredress'd complain, No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand Had made, and with it meant t' enslave the land.

Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate Was s.n.a.t.c.h'd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat: What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parent's breast?

Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd That from a father seiz'd his babe belov'd: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway?

For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due, And thee we ask thy favours to renew, Since in thy pow'r, as in thy will before, To sooth the griefs, which thou did'st once deplore.

May heav'nly grace the sacred sanction give To all thy works, and thou for ever live Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame, Though praise immortal crowns the patriot's name, But to conduct to heav'ns refulgent fane, May fiery coursers sweep th' ethereal plain, And bear thee upwards to that blest abode, Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy G.o.d.

O D E T O N E P T U N E.

On Mrs. W-----'s Voyage to England.

I.

WHILE raging tempests shake the sh.o.r.e, While AElus' thunders round us roar, And sweep impetuous o'er the plain Be still, O tyrant of the main; Nor let thy brow contracted frowns betray, While my Susanna skims the wat'ry way.

II.

The Pow'r propitious hears the lay, The blue-ey'd daughters of the sea With sweeter cadence glide along, And Thames responsive joins the song.

Pleas'd with their notes Sol sheds benign his ray, And double radiance decks the face of day.

III.

To court thee to Britannia's arms Serene the climes and mild the sky, Her region boasts unnumber'd charms, Thy welcome smiles in ev'ry eye.

Thy promise, Neptune keep, record my pray'r, Not give my wishes to the empty air.

Boston, October 12, 1772.

To a LADY on her coming to North-America with her Son, for the Recovery of her Health.

INDULGENT muse! my grov'ling mind inspire, And fill my bosom with celestial fire.

See from Jamaica's fervid sh.o.r.e she moves, Like the fair mother of the blooming loves, When from above the G.o.ddess with her hand Fans the soft breeze, and lights upon the land; Thus she on Neptune's wat'ry realm reclin'd Appear'd, and thus invites the ling'ring wind.

"Arise, ye winds, America explore, "Waft me, ye gales, from this malignant sh.o.r.e; "The Northern milder climes I long to greet, "There hope that health will my arrival meet."

Soon as she spoke in my ideal view The winds a.s.sented, and the vessel flew.

Madam, your spouse bereft of wife and son, In the grove's dark recesses pours his moan; Each branch, wide-spreading to the ambient sky, Forgets its verdure, and submits to die.

From thence I turn, and leave the sultry plain, And swift pursue thy pa.s.sage o'er the main: The ship arrives before the fav'ring wind, And makes the Philadelphian port a.s.sign'd, Thence I attend you to Bostonia's arms, Where gen'rous friendship ev'ry bosom warms: Thrice welcome here! may health revive again, Bloom on thy cheek, and bound in ev'ry vein!

Then back return to gladden ev'ry heart, And give your spouse his soul's far dearer part, Receiv'd again with what a sweet surprise, The tear in transport starting from his eyes!

While his attendant son with blooming grace Springs to his father's ever dear embrace.

With shouts of joy Jamaica's rocks resound, With shouts of joy the country rings around.

To a LADY on her remarkable Preservation in an Hurricane in North-Carolina.

THOUGH thou did'st hear the tempest from afar, And felt'st the horrors of the wat'ry war, To me unknown, yet on this peaceful sh.o.r.e Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar, And how stern Boreas with impetuous hand Compell'd the Nereids to usurp the land.

Reluctant rose the daughters of the main, And slow ascending glided o'er the plain, Till AEolus in his rapid chariot drove In gloomy grandeur from the vault above: Furious he comes. His winged sons obey Their frantic sire, and madden all the sea.

The billows rave, the wind's fierce tyrant roars, And with his thund'ring terrors shakes the sh.o.r.es: Broken by waves the vessel's frame is rent, And strows with planks the wat'ry element.

But thee, Maria, a kind Nereid's shield Preserv'd from sinking, and thy form upheld: And sure some heav'nly oracle design'd At that dread crisis to instruct thy mind Things of eternal consequence to weigh, And to thine heart just feelings to convey Of things above, and of the future doom, And what the births of the dread world to come.

From tossing seas I welcome thee to land.