The Poetical Works of Edward Young Part 31

Not less compell'd by reason's call, To thee our souls aspire, Than to thy skies, by nature's law, High mounts material fire;

To thee aspiring they exult, I feel my spirits rise, I feel myself thy son, and pant For patrimonial skies;

Since ardent thirst of future good, And generous sense of past, To thee man's prudence strongly ties, And binds affection fast;

Since great thy love, and great our want, And men the wisest blind, And bliss our aim; p.r.o.nounce us all Distracted, or resigned;

Resign'd through duty, interest, shame; Deep shame! dare I complain, When (wondrous truth!) in heaven itself Joy ow'd its birth to pain?

And pain for me! for me was drain'd Gall's overflowing bowl; And shall one drop to murmur bold Provoke my guilty soul?

If pardon'd this, what cause, what crime Can indignation raise?

The sun was lighted up to shine, And man was born to praise;

And when to praise the man shall cease, Or sun to strike the view; A cloud dishonors both; but man's The blacker of the two:

For oh! ingrat.i.tude how black!

With most profound amaze At love, which man belov'd o'erlooks, Astonish'd angels gaze.

Praise cheers, and warms, like generous wine; Praise, more divine than prayer; Prayer points our ready path to heaven; Praise is already there.

Let plausive resignation rise, And banish all complaint; All virtues thronging into one, It finishes the saint;

Makes the man bless'd, as man can be; Life's labours renders light; Darts beams through fate's inc.u.mbent gloom, And lights our sun by night;

'T is nature's brightest ornament, The richest gift of grace, Rival of angels, and supreme Proprietor of peace;

Nay, peace beyond, no small degree Of rapture 't will impart; Know, madam! when your heart's in heaven, "All heaven is in your heart."

But who to heaven their hearts can raise?

Denied divine support, All virtue dies; support divine The wise with ardour court:

When prayer partakes the seraph's fire, 'T is mounted on his wing, Bursts thro' heaven's crystal gates, and Sure audience of its king:

The labouring soul from sore distress That bless'd expedient frees; I see you far advanc'd in peace; I see you on your knees:

How on that posture has the beam Divine for ever shone!

An humble heart, G.o.d's other seat!(58) The rival of his throne:

And stoops Omnipotence so low!

And condescends to dwell, Eternity's inhabitant, Well pleas'd, in such a cell?

Such honour how shall we repay?

How treat our guest divine?

The sacrifice supreme be slain!

Let self-will die: resign.

Thus far, at large, on our disease; Now let the cause be shown, Whence rises, and will ever rise, The dismal human groan:

What our sole fountain of distress?

Strong pa.s.sion for this scene; That trifles make important, things Of mighty moment mean:

When earth's dark maxims poison shed On our polluted souls, Our hearts and interests fly as far Asunder, as the poles.

Like princes in a cottage nurs'd, Unknown their royal race, With abject aims, and sordid joys, Our grandeur we disgrace;

O! for an Archimedes new, Of moral powers possess'd, The world to move, and quite expel That traitor from the breast.

No small advantage may be reap'd From thought whence we descend; From weighing well, and prizing weigh'd Our origin, and end:

From far above the glorious sun To this dim scene we came: And may, if wise, for ever bask In great Jehovah's beam:

Let that bright beam on reason rous'd In awful l.u.s.tre rise, Earth's giant ills are dwarf'd at once, And all disquiet dies.

Earth's glories too their splendour lose, Those phantoms charm no more; Empire's a feather for a fool, And Indian mines are poor:

Then levell'd quite, whilst yet alive, The monarch and his slave; Not wait enlighten'd minds to learn That lesson from the grave:

A George the Third would then be low As Lewis in renown, Could he not boast of glory more Than sparkles from a crown.

When human glory rises high As human glory can; When, though the king is truly great, Still greater is the man;

The man is dead, where virtue fails; And though the monarch proud In grandeur shines, his gorgeous robe Is but a gaudy shroud.

Wisdom! where art thou? None on earth, Though grasping wealth, fame, power, But what, O death! through thy approach, Is wiser every hour;

Approach how swift, how unconfin'd!

Worms feast on viands rare, Those little epicures have kings To grace their bill of fare:

From kings what resignation due To that almighty will, Which thrones bestows, and, when they fail, Can throne them higher still!

Who truly great? The good and brave, The masters of a mind The will divine to do resolv'd, To suffer it resign'd.

Madam! if that may give it weight, The trifle you receive Is dated from a solemn scene, The border of the grave;

Where strongly strikes the trembling soul Eternity's dread power, As bursting on it through the thin Part.i.tion of an hour;

Hear this, Voltaire! but this, from me, Runs hazard of your frown; However, spare it; ere you die, Such thoughts will be your own.

In mercy to yourself forbear My notions to chastise, Lest unawares the gay Voltaire Should blame Voltaire the wise:

Fame's trumpet rattling in your ear, Now, makes us disagree; When a far louder trumpet sounds, Voltaire will close with me:

How shocking is that modesty, Which keeps some honest men From urging what their hearts suggest, When brav'd by folly's pen.

a.s.saulting truths, of which in all Is sown the sacred seed!

Our const.i.tution's orthodox, And closes with our creed:

What then are they, whose proud conceits Superior wisdom boast?