66 OCES,
VIII. Happy the Patriarch! he rcjoic'd
His fecond world to fee;
My fecond world, tho' gay the fcene, Can boaíl no charms for me.
IX.
T o me this brilliant age appears W i t h defolation fpread;
Near ali with whom I liv'd and fmil'd, Whilít life was life, ate dead;
x. •
A n d with them dy'd my joys : the grave Has hroken Nature's laws,
A n d clos'd againít this feeble frame Its partial, cruel jaws:
X I . Cruel to fpare! condemn'd to life!
A cloud impairs my fight;
M y weak hand difobeys my will, A n d trembles as I write.
XII.
What íhall I write? Thalia! tell;
Say, long abandon'd Mufe!
What field of fancy íhall I range ? W h a t fubjeít íhall I chufe ?
XIII.
A choice of moment high infpire, A n d refcue me from íhame, For doting on thy charms fo late, By grandeur in my theme.
XIV.
Beyond the themes which moft admire, Which dazzle or amaze;
Beyond renown'd exploits of war, Bright charms, or empire's blaze,
X V .
A r e themes which, in a world of woe, Can beft appcsfe our pain,
ISj
And,,in an age of gaudy guilt, Gay FoI1y's flood reílrain;
X V I . Arnidíl the ílorms of life fupport A . calm uníhakcn mind, A n d with unfading laurels crown T h e brow of the refign'd.
X V I I . 0 Reíignation ! vet unfung, 1'ntonch'd by former ílrains, T h o ' claiming ev'ry Mufe's fmile, A n d ev'ry poet's pains:
XVIII.
Eeneath life's ev'ning folemn fhade 1 dedicate my page
T o thee, thou fafeft guard of youth T h o u fole fupport of age
C • X I X . A l i other duties crefcents are
Of virtue faintly bright;
T h e glorious confummatfon thou!
Which .fills her orb w ith l i g h t : X X . How rarely fi!l'd! the love divine In evils to difcern ;
T h i s the firfl leíTon which we want, T h e lateft which we learni
X X I . A melancholy truth! for know, Could our proud hearts refign, T h e diílance greatly would decreafe ' T w i x t human and divine.
X X I I . But tho' full noble is my theme, Full urgent is my call T o foften forrow, and forbid T h e burfting tear to fali,
X X I I I . T h e taík I dread : dare I to leave Of human profe the lhore, A n d put to fea.' a dang'rous fea!
W h a t throngs have funk befotel X X I V . How proud the poet's billows fwell!
T h e God ! the God! his boaft;
A boaft how vain! what wrecks abound
£)cad bards ftench every coaft.
X X V . What then am I ( h a l l I prefume, On fuch a moulten wing, Above the gen'ral wreck to rife, A n d , in my winter, fing ?
X X V I .
When nightingales, when fweeteft bards, Confine their çharming fong
l i i j
l o i R E S I G N A T I O N ; T o fummer's animating heats,
Content to warble young.
X X V I I . Y e t write I muflj a lady * fues;
l l o w Ihameful her requeft ? M y brain in labour for duli rhyme!
JIer's teertiing with the beft!
X X V I I I . But you a ílranger will exçufe, Nor fcorn his feeble ftrain; . T o you a ílrangtr, but, thro* fate, N o ftranger to your pain.
X X I X . T h e ghoíl of Grief deceas'd afcends, His old wound bleeds anew;
His forrows are recall"d to life Jiy thofe he fees in you :
X X X . T o o well he knows the twifted ftrings Òf ardent hearts ccmbin'd,
When rent afunder, how they bleed, How hard to be refign'd!
X X X I . Thofe tears you pour his eyes have íhe d T h ç pang you feel he felt;
T h u s Nature, loud as Virtue, bids His heart at your's to melt.
* Mrs. M .
X X X I I But what can heart or head fuggeíl ? What fad Experience fay ?
Thro' truths aufterc to peace we work Our rugged, gloomy way.
X X X I I I .
What are we ? whence ? for what ? and whit W h o know not needs muít mourn ; But Thought, bright daughter of the Skies!
Can tears to triuniph turn.
X X X I V . Thought is our armour, 'tis the mind's Impenetrable lliitld,
When, fent by Fate, we meet our foes In lore Affliítion's field :
X X X V . It plucks the frightful maík from ills, Forbids pale Fear to hide,
Beneath that dark difguife, a fricnd, Which turns afTeítion's tide.
X X X V I . Afleílion frail! train'd up by Senfe, From Reafon's channel ftrays, A n d whilft it blindly points at peace, Our peace to pain betrays.
X X X V I I .
Thought winds its fond errcncous ftrcani From daily-dying flowcrs,
T o nouriíh rich immortal blooms, In amaranthinc b o w r s :
X X X V I I I . Whence throngs, in ecftacy, look down, On what once íhock'd their fight, A n d thank the terrors of the paft For ages of delight.
X X X I X . A l i withers here; who moft poíTefs A r e lofers by their gain ;
Stung by full proof that, bad at beft, I.ife's idle ali is vain :
X L .
Vain, in its courfe, life's murm*ring ftream XVid not its courfe offend,
But murmur ceafe, life, then, would feem Still vainer, from its end.
X L I . How wretched! who, thro' cruel Fate, Have nothing to lament,
With the poor alms this world affords, Deplorably content ?
X L I I . Had not the Greek his world miftook, His vvilh had bcen moft wife . T o be content with but one world, Like him, we íhould defpife.
X L I I I . Of earth's revenuç would you ítate A full account and fair
W e hope, and hope, and hope, then caíl The total up—defpair.
X L I V . Since vain ali here, ali future, vaft, Embrace the lot aífign'd;
Heav'n wounds to heal; its frowns are friends Its ílrokes fevere moft kind
X L V . But in laps'd nature rooted deep, Blind Error domincers,
A n d on fools' errands, in the dark, Sends out our hopes and fears;
X L V I . Bids us for cver pains deplore, Our pleafures overprize;
Thefe oft' perfuade us to be weak, Thofe urge us to be wife.
X L V I I.
From Virtue's rugged path to right, By Pleafure are we brought T o flow'ry fields of wrong, and there Pain chides us for our fault:
X L V I II.
Yet whilft it chides it fpeaks of peace, If folly is withftood,
A n d fays, time pays an eafy price For our eternal good.
X L I X . In earth's dark cot, and in an hour, A n d in delnfion great,
W h a t an economift is man!
T o fpend his whole eftate, L . A n d heggar an eternity ? For which, as he was bom,
More worlds than one againí} it weigh'd, A s feathers he Íhould fcorn.
L í . Say not your lofs in triumph leads Religion's feeble llrife;
Joys future amply reimburfe Joys bankrupts of this life.
L I I . But not deferr'd your joy fo long, It bears an early date;
Affiiftion's ready pay in hand Befriends our prefent ftate.
LIII.
W h a t are the tears which trickle down Her melancholy face,
L i k e liquid pearl! like pearls of price, T h e y purchafe laíling pe»ce.
L I V .
Grief foftens hearts, and curbs the will, Impetuous paflion tames,
A n d keeps infatiate keen delire From launching in extremes.
L V .
Thro' time's dark womb, our judgment right If our dim eye was thrown,
Clear íhould we fee the will divine Has but fcrcftaU'd our owru
L V I . A t variance with our future wilh, Self-fever'd, we complain : If fo, the wounded, not the wonnd, Muíl anfwer for the pain.
L V I I .
The day íhall come, ar.d fwift of wing, Tho' you may think it ílow,
When, in the liíl of Fortune's fmiles, You'll enter frowns of woe.
X.V1II.
For mark the path of Providence;
This conrfe it has purfu'd,
" Pain is the parent, woe the womb,
" Of found important good."
L I X . Our hearts are faílen'd to this world By ftrong and endlefs ties,
io8 E E S I G N A T I O M . Part. T.
A n d ev'ry forrow cuts a ílring,
A n d urges us to rife. «3Í
L X . ' T w i l l found fevere—yet rcrft aíTur'd l ' m ftudious of your peace;
T h o ' I íliould dare to give you j o y—
Yes, joy of his deceafe. 240
L X I .
A n hour lhall come (you queílion this) A n hour, when you íhall blefs, Beyond the brighteíl beams of life, Dark days of your diílrcís.
L X I I .
Hear, then, without furprife, a truth, 245 A daughter-truth to this,
Swift turns of Fortune often tie A bleeding heart to blifs.
L x i i r . Eílccm you this a paradox ? My facrcd motto rcad;
A glorious truth, divinely fung By one whofe heart had bled.
2JQ
t L X I V .
T o Rcfignation fwift he flew;
In her a friend he found;
A friend which blefs'd him with a fmile, 255 When gafping with his wound.
S
LXV.
On earth nought precious is obtain'd But what is painful too;
By travei, and to travei b o m , Our fabbaths are but few.
L X V I . T o real joy we work our way, Encount'ring many a íhock,
Ere found what truly charms, as found A Venus in the block,
L X V 1 I . In fome difafter, fome fevere Appointment for our fins, That mother-blefling, (not fo call'd) Tiue happinefs, begins.
L X V I 1 I . No martyr e'cr defy'd the flames By ftings of life unvex'd ;
Firft rofe fome quarrel with this woild, Then paflion for the next.
L X I X . You fee, then, pangs are parent-pangs, The pangs of happy birth;
Pangs, by which only can be born True happinefs on earth.
L X X . The peopled earth look ali around, Or thro' time's records run,
Volume IV. K
tio R E S I G N A T I O N . Pari I.
A n d fay, what is a man unftruck ?
It is a man undone. j g o L X X I .
T h i s momcnt am I deeply ftung M y bold pretence is try'd
When vain man boafts, Heav'n puts to proof T h e vauntings of his ptide.
L X X I I .
Now need I, Madam! your f u p p o r t . — l ? 5 How exqaifite the ímart!
How critieally tim'd the news * Which ftrikes me to the heart!
L X X I I I . T h e pangs of which I fpoke I feel:
If worth like thine is b o m , 253 O long belov'd! 1 blefs the blow,
A n d triumph whilll I motim.
L X X I V . Nor mourn I long; by gríef fubdu'd Be reafon's empire íhown;
Deep anguifh comes by Heav'n's decree, 295 Continues by our own;
L X X V . A n d when continu'd pafl its point, Indulg'd in length of time, Grief is difgrace, and what was fate
Gorrupts into a crime. 300
» The «lealh of Mr. Richardfon.
Part I. R E S I G N A T I O N . I I I L X X V I .
A n d íhall I, criminally mcan, Myfelf and fubjefl wrong?
N o ! my example fhall fuppoit T h e fubjeít of my fong.
JLXXVH.
Madam! I grant your lofs is great, 3 °i Nor little is your g a i a :
Let that be weigh'd; when weigh'd aright, It richly pays your pain.
It takes the mofl efTeítual meaos, A n d robs us of a friend.
L X X 1 X . But fuch a f r i e n d ! — a n d figh no more!
'Tis prudent, but levere :
Heav'n aid my weaknefs, and I drop 315 A l i f o r r o w — w i t h this tear.
L X X V I I 1 . When Heav'n would kindly fet us free,
A n d earth's enchantment end, 310
L X X X . Perhaps your fettled grief to footh I (hould not vainly ílrive,
But with foft balm your pain aflwage,
Had he been ílill alive; 310
L X X X I .
I I I R E S I G N A T I O N ,
PurlT.
Ting'd with his beams my cloudy page, A n d bcautify'd a fault.
L X X X I I .
T o touch our paflions' fecret fprings 315 W a s his peculiar care;
A n d deep his happy genius div'd In bofoms of the fair.
LXXXTIT.
Nature, which favours to the few
A l i art beyond imparts, 330 T o him prefented, at his birth,
T h e key of human hearts.
L X X X I V . But not to me by him bequeath'd His gentle fmooth addrefs;
His tender hand to touch the wound 33J I11 throbbings of diftrefs.
L X X X V . Howe'er, proceed I muft, unblefs'd W i t h jíXcuIapian a r t :
Know, Love fometimes, miftaken Love!
Plays Difaffe£Uon's part. 3 4 ° L X X X V r .
Nor lands, nor feas, nor funs, nor ftars, Can foul from foul divide;
T h e y correfpond from diftant worlds, T h o ' tranfports are deny'd.
L X X X V I I . Are yon not, then, unkindly kind Is not your love fevere ?
O ! ílop that cryílal fource of woe, Nor wound him with a tear.
L X X X V I I I . A s thofe above from human blifs Receive increafe of joy,
May not a ftroke from human woe, ln part, their peaçe deflroy ?
L X X X Í X . He lives in thofe he ieft; to what ? Your, now, paternal care:
Clear from its cloud your brighten'd eye, 355 It will difcern him there;
X C . In features, not of form alone, But thofe, I truft, of mind, Aufpicious to the public weal,
A n d to their fate refign'd. 360
xci.
Think on the tempefts he fuftain'd, Revolve his battles won,
A n d let thofe prophefy your joy From fuch a father's fon.
X C I I .
Is confolation what you feek ? 3 Fan, then, his martial fire;
K j i j
345
3J0
A n d animate to flame the fparks Bequeath'd him by his fire.
XCIII.
A s nothing great is bom in haíle, Wife Nature's time allow;
His father's laurels may defcend, A n d flourilh on his brow.
X C I V . Nor, Madam ! be furpris'd to hear, T h a t laurels may be due Not more to heroes of the field (Proud boaílers !) than to you.
X C V . Tender as is the female frame, L i k e that brave man you mourn;
You are a foldier, and to fight Superior battles bom.
X C V I . Bcneath a banner nobler far T h a n ever was unfurl'd
ln fields of blood; a banner bright!
High-wav'd o'tr ali the world;
X C V I f . It, like a llreaming meteor, cafls A n univerfal light;
Sheds day, (heds more, eternal day, On nations whelm'd in night.
XCVIII.
Beneath that banner, what exploit Can mount our glory high'r, Than to fuftain the dreadful blow, When thofe we love expire ?
X C I X . Go forth a moral A m a z o n , A r m ' d with undaunted thought;
The battle won,tho' coíling dear, You'11 think it cheaply bought.
C.
The paílive hero, who fits down Unaflive, and can fmile Beneath Affli£tion's galling load, Out-aíts a Casfar's toil.
C l .
The billows ftain'd by flaughter'd foes, Inferior praife afibrd;
Reafon's a bloodlefs conqueror, More glorious than the fword.
CII.
Nor can the thunder of huzzas From fliouting nations, caufe Such fweet dclight, as from your heart Soft whifpers of applaufe.
CHI.
The dear deceas'd fo fam'd in arms, With what delight hc'll vicw
His triumphs on the main outdone, Thus conquer'd, twiee, by you!
C1V.
Share his delight; take heed to (hun Of bofoms moft difeas'd
T h a t odd diftemper, an abfutd Reluílance to be pleas'd.
CV.
Some feem in love with Sorrow's charms, A n d that foul fiend embrace:
This temper let me juftly brand, A n d ftamp it with difgrace.
CVL.
Sorrow! of horrid parentage!
T h o u fecond-born of hell!
Againft Heav'n's endlefs mercies pour'd How dar'ft thou to rebel ?
CVII.
From black and noxious vapours bred, A n d nurs'd by want of thought, A n d to the door of Frenzy's felf By Perfeverance brought.
CVIII.
T h y moft inglorions, coward tears, From brutal eyes have ran;
Smiles, incommunicable fmiles!
A r e radiant marks of man;
fart J. R E S I G N A T I O N . . C I X .
T h e y caíl a fudden glory round T h ' illumin'd human face ; A n d light, in fons of honeft Joy, Some beams of Mofes' face.
C X . Is Rcfignation's leíTon hard ? Examine, we íhall find T h a t duty gives up little more T h a n anguiíh of the mind.
C X I . R e í i g n ; and ali the load of life T h a t moment you remove ; Its heavy tax, ten thoufand cares Devolve on One above;
C X I I .
W h o bids us lay our burden down i .n 445 On his A l m i g h t y hands,
Softens our duty to relief, T o bleíüng a command.
n C X I I I . ; ;-..!oj-Ji>n T b d í b a À For joy what caufe! how ev'ry fenfe
Is courted from above . i / j 45®
The year around, with prefents rich, T h e growth of endlefs love!