So lovely and so great as when the call Of cursed ambition ceased in Xerxes' breast, And from the social eye Compassion pour'd The tender flood of heart-ennobling tears?
Thus the chief scenes of nature view'd apart, Which with a just similitude affect
The' attentive mind, now through the tuneful whole Let the swift wing of Fancy bear us on Beyond the ken of knowledge, where, unseen To us inhabitants of this small spot, Ten thousand worlds in regions unconfined, Progressive and obedient to the source Of light eternal, gild the vast expanse: Or, should we stop the' aspiring flight to view, Led by the hand of Science and of Truth, Where in the midst the glorious sun expands His flame, and with perennial beams supplies The distant planets as they roll around; What Harmony divine for ever reigns! How these in tuneful order' through the void Their different stations keep, their powers distinct Observe, and in each other's friendly sphere Their kindest influence blend, till all unite To form the plan of the all-ruling Mind, And, through the whole, celestial bliss diffuse! Hence let the worse than atheist, the fond fool Who falsely dotes in Superstition's gloom,
4 The superiority of moral beauty to natural has been universally allowed by all authors both ancient and modern. And that sentence of Seneca's may be understood figuratively: Nullum ornamentum principis fastigio dignius pulchriusque est, quam illa corona ob cives servatos. Senec. de Clem. lib. i.
5 Vide Sir Isaac Newton, book iii. p. 345.
And blindfold led by easy Faith, denies The guide of Reason, obstinately bent To seek the cause of universal good And source of beauty in the demon's cave, And, shuddering, fancies he at distance hears The howls of ghosts, created to endure Eternal torments; let this impious wretch Look round this fair creation, where, impell'd By that great Author, every atom tends To universal Harmony; where Joy, As with a parent's fondness, to behold Her own soft image in her child impress'd, Smiles on the beauteous offspring, and illumes Responsive signs of pleasure; like the beams Of Titan sporting on the lucid waves
Whence Venus rose of old: let him then say, If Nature meant this goodly frame to cheat Deluded mortals? Did an idiot's scheme Upraise this wondrous fabric? Say, was man Forth from the dark abyss of chaos call'd In vain to breathe celestial air, in vain To view the bloom of beauty, not to feel The' effect divine soft thrilling through his soul, And wakening every power which sleeps within To gaze amazement? Did the Lord of all Attune our finer organs to the charms Of things external, only to ensnare
This image of himself? To the tuneful breast Of virtuous Wisdom, such discordant thoughts Are far excluded; other themes employ The studious sage's hours; his kindred soul Triumphs on Contemplation's eagle wings Through yon etherial plains, where distant worlds Roll through the vast abyss: there unconfined
Pursues the fiery tract where comets glow; Or in the sable bosom of the night,
Sweeps headlong to o'ertake the rapid flight Of exhalations, from ideal stars
Shot wildly down; nor 'sdains he to behold In Nature's humbler walks the sweet recess, Where Beauty on the splendid rose exults As conscious of her form, or mildly veils Her maiden blushes in the chaster pink, Or on the margin of the crystal brook In soft narcissus blows. For him the choir Of feather'd songsters breathe their vernal airs; For him the stillness of the' autumnal grove In pleasing sadness reigns; for him the sheaf Of Ceres spreads its yellow pride; the horn Of ripe Pomona pours its offerings forth; Winter presents his free domestic bowl Of social joy; and Spring's Elysian bloom, Whilst Flora wantons in her Zephyr's arms, Invites the Graces forth to join the Hours In festive dance. His tasteful mind enjoys Alike the complicated charms, which glow Through the wide landscape, where enamel'd meads, [streams, Unfruitful rocks, brown woods, and glittering The daisy-laughing lawns, the verdant plains, And hanging mountains, strike at once the sight With varied pleasure; as the' abstracted ray, Which soft effuses from Eudocia's eye The opening dawn of love. He looks through all The plan of Nature with congenial love, Where the great social link of mutual aid Through every being twines: where all conspire To form one system of eternal good,
Of harmony and bliss, in forms distinct, Of natures various as the' effulgent sun, Which pours abroad the mighty flood of day, To the pale glowworm in the midnight shade. From these sweet meditations on the charms Of things external; on the genuine forms Which blossom in creation; on the scene Where mimic Art with emulative hue Usurps the throne of Nature unreproved; Or the just concord of mellifluent sounds; The soul, and all the intellectual train
Of fond desires, gay hopes, or threatening fears, Through this habitual intercourse of sense Is harmonized within, till all is fair And perfect; till each moral power perceives Its own resemblance with fraternal joy, In every form complete, and smiling feels Beauty and good the same. Thus the first man, Fresh from creation rising, in the flood A godlike image saw; with fix'd amaze He gazed; the' attentive figure from below Gazed with responsive wonder: did he smile? The shadowy features dimpled in the waves Not less delighted; till at length he found From his own form the' external object flow'd, And moved to his its correspondent charms.
See Plato's Dialogues, Xenophon's Memorabilia, &c. whom the ingenious author of the Traité du Beau follows. Si la félicité des hommes est nécessairement liée avec la pratique de la vertu, il faut reconnoître que la vertu est essentiellement belle, puisque le beau consiste dans le rapport des choses avec notre destination.
FATHER'S ADVICE TO HIS SON.
IN IMITATION OF THE OLD SONG TO WINIFRIDA.
Ecce meos: utinamque oculos in pectore posses Inserere, et patrias intus dependere curas.
DEEP in a grove by cypress shaded, Where midday sun had seldom shone, Or noise the solemn scene invaded, Save some afflicted Muse's moan;
A swain, towards full-aged manhood wending, Sat sorrowing at the close of day; At whose fond side a boy attending Lisp'd half his father's cares away. The father's eye no object wrested, But on the smiling prattler hung, Till, what his throbbing heart suggested, These accents trembled from his tongue-
My youth's first hope, my manhood's treasure, My prattling innocent, attend,
Nor fear rebuke or sour displeasure : A father's loveliest name is friend.
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