The Poetical Works of Edward Young Part 2

When oceans roar, or awful thunders roll, May thoughts of thy dread vengeance shake my soul!

When earth's in bloom, or planets proudly shine, Adore, my heart, the majesty divine!

"Thro' every scene of life, or peace, or war, Plenty, or want, thy glory be my care!

Shine we in arms? or sing beneath our vine?

Thine is the vintage, and the conquest thine: Thy pleasure points the shaft, and bends the bow; The cl.u.s.ter blasts, or bids it brightly glow: 'Tis thou that lead'st our powerful armies forth, And giv'st great Anne thy sceptre o'er the north.

"Grant I may ever, at the morning ray, Open with prayer the consecrated day; Tune thy great praise, and bid my soul arise, And with the mounting sun ascend the skies: As that advances, let my zeal improve, And glow with ardour of consummate love; Nor cease at eve, but with the setting sun My endless worship shall be still begun.

"And, oh! permit the gloom of solemn night To sacred thought may forcibly invite.

When this world's shut, and awful planets rise, Call on our minds, and raise them to the skies; Compose our souls with a less dazzling sight, And show all nature in a milder light; How every boisterous thought in calm subsides!

How the smooth'd spirit into goodness glides!

O how divine! to tread the milky way, To the bright palace of the lord of day; His court admire, or for his favour sue, Or leagues of friendship with his saints renew; Pleas'd to look down, and see the world asleep, While I long vigils to its founder keep!

"Canst thou not shake the centre? Oh! control, Subdue by force, the rebel in my soul: Thou, who canst still the raging of the flood, Restrain the various tumults of my blood; Teach me, with equal firmness, to sustain Alluring pleasure, and a.s.saulting pain.

O may I pant for thee in each desire!

And with strong faith foment the holy fire!

Stretch out my soul in hope, and grasp the prize, Which in eternity's deep bosom lies!

At the great day of recompense behold, Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold!

Then wafted upward to the blissful seat, From age to age, my grateful song repeat; My light, my life, my G.o.d, my Saviour see, And rival angels in the praise of thee."

Book III.

Esse quoque in fatis reminiscitur, affore tempus, Quo mare, quo tellus, correptaque regia caeli Ardeat; et mundi moles operosa laboret.

-OVID. MET.

The book unfolding; the resplendent seat Of saints and angels; the tremendous fate Of guilty souls; the gloomy realms of woe; And all the horrors of the world below; I next presume to sing: what yet remains Demands my last, but most exalted strains.

And let the muse or now affect the sky, Or in inglorious shades for ever lie.

She kindles, she's inflam'd so near the goal; She mounts, she gains upon the starry pole; The world grows less as she pursues her flight, And the sun darkens to her distant sight.

Heaven op'ning, all its sacred pomp displays, And overwhelms her with the rushing blaze!

The triumph rings! archangels shout around!

And echoing nature lengthens out the sound!

Ten thousand trumpets now at once advance; Now deepest silence lulls the vast expanse: So deep the silence, and so strong the blast, As nature died, when she had groan'd her last.

Nor man, nor angel, moves; the Judge on high Looks round, and with his glory fills the sky: Then on the fatal book his hand he lays, Which high to view supporting seraphs raise; In solemn form the rituals are prepar'd, The seal is broken, and a groan is heard.

And thou, my soul, (oh fall to sudden pray'r, And let the thought sink deep!) shalt thou be there?

See on the left (for by the great command The throng divided falls on either hand); How weak, how pale, how haggard, how obscene, What more than death in ev'ry face and mien!

With what distress, and glarings of affright.

They shock the heart, and turn away the sight!

In gloomy orbs their trembling eye-b.a.l.l.s roll, And tell the horrid secrets of the soul.

Each gesture mourns, each look is black with care, And ev'ry groan is loaden with despair.

Reader, if guilty, spare the muse, and find A truer image pictur'd in thy mind.

Shouldst thou behold thy brother, father, wife, And all the soft companions of thy life, Whose blended int'rests levell'd at one aim, Whose mix'd desires sent up one common flame, Divided far; thy wretched self alone Cast on the left, of all whom thou hast known; How would it wound! what millions wouldst thou give For one more trial, one more day to live!

Flung back in time an hour, a moment's s.p.a.ce, To grasp with eagerness the means of grace; Contend for mercy with a pious rage, And in that moment to redeem an age?

Drive back the tide, suspend a storm in air, Arrest the sun!-but still of this despair.

Mark, on the right, how amiable a grace!

Their Maker's image fresh in ev'ry face!

What purple bloom my ravish'd soul admires!

And their eyes sparkling with immortal fires!

Triumphant beauty! charms that rise above This world, and in blest angels kindle love!

To the great Judge with holy pride they turn, And dare behold th' Almighty's anger burn; Its flash sustain, against its terror rise, And on the dread tribunal fix their eyes.

Are these the forms that moulder'd in the dust?

Oh the transcendent glory of the just!

Yet still some thin remains of fear and doubt, Th' infected brightness of their joy pollute.

Thus the chaste bridegroom, when the priest draws nigh, Beholds his blessing with a trembling eye, Feels doubtful pa.s.sions throb in every vein, And in his cheeks are mingled joy and pain, Lest still some intervening chance should rise, Leap forth at once, and s.n.a.t.c.h the golden prize; Inflame his woe, by bringing it so late, And stab him in the crisis of his fate.

Since Adam's family, from first to last, Now into one distinct survey is cast; Look round, vainglorious muse, and you whoe'er Devote yourselves to fame, and think her fair; Look round, and seek the lights of human race, Whose shining acts time's brightest annals grace; Who founded sects; crowns conquer'd, or resign'd; Gave names to nations: or fam'd empires join'd; Who raised the vale, and laid the mountain low; And taught obedient rivers where to flow; Who with vast fleets, as with a mighty chain, Could bind the madness of the roaring main: All lost? all undistinguish'd? nowhere found?

How will this truth in Bourbon's palace sound?

That hour, on which the Almighty King on high From all eternity has fix'd his eye, Whether his right hand favour'd, or annoy'd, Continu'd, alter'd, threaten'd, or destroy'd; Southern or eastern sceptre downward hurl'd, Gave north or west dominion o'er the world; The point of time, for which the world was built, For which the blood of G.o.d himself was spilt, That dreadful moment is arriv'd.

Aloft, the seats of bliss their pomp display Brighter than brightness, this distinguish'd day; Less glorious, when of old th' eternal Son From realms of night return'd with trophies won: Thro' heaven's high gates, when he triumphant rode, And shouting angels hail'd the victor G.o.d.

Horrors, beneath, darkness in darkness, h.e.l.l Of h.e.l.l, where torments behind torments dwell; A furnace formidable, deep, and wide, O'erboiling with a mad sulphureous tide, Expands its jaws, most dreadful to survey, And roars outrageous for the destin'd prey.

The sons of light scarce unappall'd look down, And nearer press heaven's everlasting throne.

Such is the scene; and one short moment's s.p.a.ce Concludes the hopes and fears of human race.

Proceed who dares!-I tremble as I write, The whole creation swims before my sight: I see, I see, the Judge's frowning brow; Say not, 'tis distant; I behold it now; I faint, my tardy blood forgets to flow, My soul recoils at the stupendous woe; That woe, those pangs, which from the guilty breast, In these, or words like these, shall be exprest.

"Who burst the barriers of my peaceful grave?

Ah! cruel death, that would no longer save, But grudg'd me e'en that narrow dark abode, And cast me out into the wrath of G.o.d; Where shrieks, the roaring flame, the rattling chain, And all the dreadful eloquence of pain, Our only song; black fire's malignant light, The sole refreshment of the blasted sight.

Must all those pow'rs, heaven gave me to supply My soul with pleasure, and bring in my joy, Rise up in arms against me, join the foe, Sense, reason, memory, increase my woe?

And shall my voice, ordain'd on hymns to dwell, Corrupt to groans, and blow the fires of h.e.l.l?

Oh! must I look with terror on my gain, And with existence only measure pain?

What! no reprieve, no least indulgence given, No beam of hope, from any point of heaven!

Ah mercy! mercy! art thou dead above?

Is love extinguish'd in the source of love?

"Bold that I am, did heaven stoop down to h.e.l.l?

Th' expiring Lord of life my ransom seal?

Have I not been industrious to provoke?

From his embraces obstinately broke?

Pursu'd and panted for his mortal hate, Earn'd my destruction, labour'd out my fate?

And dare I on extinguish'd love exclaim?

Take, take full vengeance, rouse the slack'ning flame; Just is my lot-but oh! must it transcend The reach of time, despair a distant end?

With dreadful growth shoot forward, and arise, Where thought can't follow, and bold fancy dies?

"Never! where falls the soul at that dread sound?

Down an abyss how dark, and how profound?

Down, down, (I still am falling, horrid pain!) Ten thousand thousand fathoms still remain; My plunge but still begun-And this for sin?

Could I offend, if I had never been, But still increas'd the senseless happy ma.s.s, Flow'd in the stream, or shiver'd in the gra.s.s?

"Father of mercies! why from silent earth Didst thou awake, and curse me into birth?

Tear me from quiet, ravish me from night, And make a thankless present of thy light?

Push into being a reverse of thee, And animate a clod with misery?

"The beasts are happy; they come forth, and keep Short watch on earth, and then lie down to sleep.

Pain is for man; and oh! how vast a pain For crimes, which made the G.o.dhead bleed in vain!

Annull'd his groans, as far as in them lay, And flung his agonies, and death, away!

As our dire punishment for ever strong, Our const.i.tution too for ever young, Curs'd with returns of vigour, still the same, Powerful to bear, and satisfy the flame: Still to be caught, and still to be pursu'd!

To perish still, and still to be renew'd!

"And this, my help! my G.o.d! at thy decree?

Nature is chang'd, and h.e.l.l should succour me.

And canst thou then look down from perfect bliss, And see me plunging in the dark abyss?

Calling thee Father, in a sea of fire?

Or pouring blasphemies at thy desire?

With mortals' anguish wilt thou raise thy name, And by my pangs omnipotence proclaim?

"Thou, who canst toss the planets to and fro, Contract not thy great vengeance to my woe; Crush worlds; in hotter flames fall'n angels lay; On me Almighty wrath is cast away.

Call back thy thunders, Lord, hold in thy rage, Nor with a speck of wretchedness engage: Forget me quite, nor stoop a worm to blame; But lose me in the greatness of thy name.