Appear to act from reas'ning thus abfurd, And thus entirely false; they seem led on By fenfuality, extravagance,
And tafte for gaiety, to fhun thy paths, Celestial charity! as though vice crown'd Her followers with never-fading blifs, And virtue with remorse. How blind are they! How little notice take they of the sure Eventual certain confequence of good And evil; they have never fcrutiniz'd The character of him who venerates
Thee, goddefs, and thy laws! nor mark'd the effect On his deportment, of thy influence;
The bofom which thy precepts govern, heaves With ev'ry noble feeling that can grace Man's nature; they not only teach our hearts To pity indigent diftrefs, and hands To 'minifter relief, but eke command Expressly ev'ry nerve to be out-ftretch'd
In foft'ning woe from other caufes fpringing. The charitable man, if forrows pierce
His neighbour's breast, will hafte to pour the balm Of tender friendship on his wounds, and eafe Their agony; he mingles tears with his, And joins his grief, and, when fit seafon, points Th' afflicted eye beyond the grave, where grief Shall wet the cheek no more!-Yet not alone His friends and neighbours his affection fhare, Far wider than th' horizon round his view His kindness reaches, and in one embrace He holds all nations, ev'ry clafs of men; Nor colour, tongue, nor clime, in his good-will Diftinction mark, but each, by one God made, He owns his fellow creature, loves as fuch, Rejoices in his happiness, bewails His mifery; and when that thirsty foe Of earthly comfort, fcourging war, destroys The human race by multitudes a day; He fhudders at the tale, and thinks he hears The murd'rous cannons roar, the vanquish'd cry, The wounded thriek, the dying feebly groan,
And gafp for breath, and mentally beholds "The mangled bodies of the wretched flain, "Strew in vaft heaps the defolated plain !" He weeps that man fo oft the victim falls To fellow-man's ambition, and deplores The madness of those princes who to whim, To rage for conquest, or to paffions pleas'd With blood and flaughter, can, without regret, Whole thousands of their fubjects facrifice; Their fubjects, whom as chiefs they should protect; Their fubjects, whom as fathers, they should love. Nor lefs he weeps, oh Charity! nor lefs Ambition execrates, when wand'ring thought Prefents wrong'd Afric's picture to his mind; On the long catalogue of injuries
Moft infamous, which her devoted fons Are daily fuff'ring from the barb'rous hand Of European wanton cruelty,
His heated fancy dwells; before his eyes It paints the mis'ries of the fable race,
And fhews him those enflav'd unfortunates
Writhing in all the agoniz'd excess
Of intellectual and corporeal pain, Laden with fuch calamities, o'erwhelm'd With fuch accumulated wretchedness,
As makes him tremble when he owns himself
Of form and being like their vile tormentors :
"Oh God!" exclaims he, heart-fhock'd, " can thy "work,
"Thy greatest work, the wond'rous foul of man, "Which from thy hands creative, perfect came, "Be now fo thoroughly deprav'd, so lost
"In very wickedness; oh God! root out "This foul degrading inhumanity, "Infernal brutalizing vice, and plant "Compaffion, mercy, pity, in its ftead!"
Thus prays he, and th' Almighty on his head Permits, in thow'rs of bleffings, to defcend, The grand reward of his philanthropy, A frame of difpofition fo ferene,
So calm and temperate, a mind poffefs'd
Of fuch collected dauntless dignity, Unfhaken firmnefs, felf-dependant ftrength, That whether moving in the tranquil fcenes Of profp'rous cafe, or forc'd the rugged steep Of fate adverfe to climb, ftill, nor feduc'd By fortune's fmiles, nor bending 'neath her frowns, He proves that his all-comprehenfive eye Sees heaven's juftice ev'rywhere prefide! Does glitt'ring affluence his fteps attend? He deems himself the favour'd inftrument Of Providence, ordain'd to magnify His brethren's happiness, and executes Moft faithfully the gratifying task. Does poverty attempt to cloud his brow? The ghaftly tribe of evils in her train In vain opprefs him; stedfaft he, unhurt, Unvanquish'd, unaffected, undismay'd. What though affliction in her direst form Terrifical, affail him with the force.
Of anger'd ocean's wrath, he braves her rage Immoveable as rock-built Eddiftone; His unimpreffion'd front, like Albion's cliff, Made whiter and more brilliant by the ftorm,! Let fickness havock, dart-arm'd death approach, Amidst the mourning of his friends, his face With cheerful refignation fervid glows; Deprefs'd by no forebodings, unalarm'd, His heaven-deftin'd fpirit eager bursts Its cumbrous ligature of flesh, borne on The universal praises of mankind Afcends in glory, and with joy receiv'd By throngs angelic, near the throne of God In blissful empyrëan takes its place!
ON HEARING THE CRIES OF A CALF SHUT UP IN A SLAUGHTER-HOUSE *.
OOR hapless victim of oppreffive power!
In vain you raife the agonizing cry, In vain for gentle mercy you implore,
Alas! in vain, no helping hand is nigh.
For thee, no friendly hand will bring relief,
In pangs extreme thou must resign thy breath; Protracted torments must increase thy grief,
And add new horrors to th' approach of death.
How chang'd is now the scene, fince, when o'erjoy'd Thou cheerful hail'dft the morn's fweet orient beam, When thy fond mother homeward to thee hicd, Full laden with the rich nutritious ftream.
But now, alas! from her fond fide thou'rt torn, And here within this doleful prison penn'd, Condemn'd in ling'ring agonies to mourn,
In fruitless cries thy feeble breath to spend. Fell luxury! fuch the miseries of thy reign, Such the dire carnage of thy horrid sway, Thy favage arts fpread flaughter o'er the plain, And cruelty and bloodshed mark thy way. Oh! fhame, difgrace to Britain's favor'd ifle, That in her courts fuch luxury should reign, How dare we hope that heav'n on us should smile, While thus with cruelty our hands we stain!
* The barbarities practised in killing these poor animals by repeated bleedings, reflect difgrace on the promoters of fuch enormities, and cannot fail of exciting horror in every mind not totally lost to all fentiments of humanity and benevo lence.
H hide me from the city's tiresome strife, fome fecluded peace-bestowing vale; Well may he hate this fpan of mortal life, Who feels like me how very falfe and frail Are all our hopes of human happiness; The gala and the theatre, how tale! The fong convivial-impotent to bless, Nor wit refin'd, nor laugh-provoking tale, Nor all the gouds of luxury and drefs,
Can charm his heart whofe peace of mind is fled. What then can filent folitude avail,
The wood, the mountain, and the claffic fhade? Is heav'n-born hope, content, or Delia there? Ah, no!-they can but echo my despair.
ON HIS EXCESSIVE GRIEF FOR THE LOSS OF AN AFFECTIONATE WIFE.
Why droops thy foul with forrow's painful
"HY from thine eyes do pearly tears diftil?
For one who refts fecure from human ill,
Whom death hath fummon'd to his ftill abode ?
True-fhe was all that bounteous heav'n could give, True-fhe deferves thofe heavings of thy breast ; A chafter being did not, could not live,
A dearer confort no one e'er poffeft. But what can all thy tender grief avail? Can it recal her long-departed breath? Reftore the roses to her features pale?
Or roufe her from the awful trance of death?
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