For me fhall funs their noon-tide courfe forbear? 405
Or motion not fubfift to influence air?
Let the means vary, be they froft, or flame,
Thy end, O Nature! ftill remains the fame!
Be this the motive of a wife man's care,-
To fhun deferving ills, and learn to bear.
HILE thus a mind humane, and wife, he fhows,
All eloquent of truth his language flows.
Youth, though deprefs'd, through all his form appears;
Through all his fentiments the depth of years.
Thus he-Yet farther Industry behold,
Which confcious waits new wonders to unfold.
Enter my chapel next-Lo! here begin
The hallow'd rites, that check the growth of fin.
When first we met, how foon you feem'd to know
My bofom, labouring with the throbs of woe!
Such racking throbs!-Soft! when I rouse those cares,
On my chill'd mind pale Recollection glares!
When moping Frenzy ftrove my thoughts to fway,
Here prudent labours chac'd her power away.
Full, and rough-rifing from yon fculptur'd wall, 15
Bold prophets nations to repentance call!;
Meek martyrs fimile in flames! gor'd champions groan!
And mufe-like cherubs tune their harps in stone!
Next fhadow'd light a rounding force beftows,
Swells into life, and speaking action grows!
Here pleafing, melancholy fubjects find,
To calm, amuse, exalt the penfive mind!
This figure tender grief, like mine, implies,
And semblant thoughts, that earthly pomp defpife.
Such penitential Magdalene reveals;
Loofe-veil'd, in negligence of charms fhe kneels.
Though drefs, near-flor'd, its vanity fupplies,
The vanity of drefs unheeded lies.
The finful world in forrowing eye fhe keeps,
As o'er Jerufalem Meffiah weeps.
One hand her bofom fmites; in one appears
The lifted lawn, that drinks her falling tears.
Since evil outweighs good, and fways mankind, True fortitude affumes the patient mind:
Such prov'd Meffiah's, though to fuffering born, 35
To penury, repulfe, reproach, and fcorn.
Here, by the pencil, mark his flight design'd;
The weary'd virgin by a ftream reclin'd,
Who feeds the child. Her looks a charm exprefs,
A modest charm, that dignifies diftrefs.
Boughs o'er their heads with blushing fruits depend,
Which angels to her bufied confort bend.
Hence by the fmiling infant feems difcern'd,
Trifles, concerning Him, all heaven concern'd.
Here the transfigur'd Son from earth retires : 45
See the white form in a bright cloud aspires!
Full on his followers burits a flood of rays,
Proftrate they fall beneath th' o'erwhelming blaze!
Like noon-tide fummer-funs the rays appear,
Unfufferable, magnificent, and near!
What scene of agony the garden brings;
The cup of gall; the fuppliant King of kings!
The crown of thorns; the cross, that felt him die;
Thefe, languid in the sketch, unfinish'd lie.
There, from the dead, centurions fee him rife, 55 See! but ftruck down with horrible furprize! As the first glory feem'd a fun at noon, This cafts the filver fplendor of the moon.
Here peopled day, th' ascending God furveys ! The glory varies, as the myriads gaze!
Now foften'd, like a fun at diftance feen,
When through a cloud bright-glancing, yet ferene!
Now faft-encreafing to the croud amaz'd,
Like fome vaft meteor high in æther rais'd!
My labour, yon high-vaulted altar stains
With dies, that emulate ætherial plains.
The convex glafs, which in that opening glows,
Mid circling rays a pictur'd Saviour shows!
Bright it collects the beams, which, trembling all,
Back from the God, a fhowery radiance fall.
Lightening the fcene beneath! a scene divine!
Where faints, clouds, feraphs, intermingled fhine!
Here water-falls, that play melodious round,
Like a fweet organ, fwell a lofty found!
The folemn notes bid earthly paffions fly,
Lull all my cares, and lift my foul on high!
This monumental marble-this I rear
To one-Oh! ever mourn'd!-Oh! ever dear!
He ftopt-pathetic fighs the paufe supply,
And the prompt tear farts, quivering, on his eye! 80
I look'd-two columns near the wall were seen,
An imag'd beauty stretch'd at length between.
Near the wept fair, her harp Cecilia ftrung;
Leaning, from high, a listening angel hung!
Friendship, whofe figure at the feet remains,
A phoenix, with irradiate creft, sustains:
This grac'd one palm, while one extends t' impart
Two foreign hands, that clafp a burning heart.
A pendent veil two hovering feraphs raife,
Which opening heaven upon the roof displays!
And two, benevolent, lefs-diftant, hold
A vafe, collective of perfumes upro!l'd !
Thefe from the heart, by Friendship held, arise,
Odorous as incenfe gathering in the skies.
In the fond pelican is love expreft,
Who opens to her young her tender breast.
Two mated turtles hovering hang in air,
One by a faulcon ftruck!-in wild despair,
The hermit cries-So death, alas! deftroys
The tender confort of my cares and joys!
Again foft tears upon his eye-lid hung,
Again check'd founds dy'd, fluttering, on his tongue.
Too well his pining inmoft thought I know!
Too well ev'n filence tells the ftory'd woe!
To his my fighs, to his my tears reply!
I stray o'er all the tomb a watery eye!
Next, on the wall, her fcenes of life I gaz'd,
The form back-leaning, by a globe half-rais'd!
Cherubs a profer'd crown of glory show,
Ey'd wistful by th' admiring fair below.
In action eloquent dispos'd her hands,
One fhows her breaft, in rapture one expands!
This the fond hermit feiz'd!-o'er all his foul,
The soft, wild, wailing, amorous passion stole !
In ftedfaft
gaze his eyes
her aspect keep,
Then turn away, a while dejected weep;
Then he reverts them; but reverts in vain,
Dimm'd with the fwelling grief that streams again.
Where now is my philofophy? (he cries)
My joy, hope, reafon, my Olympia dies!
Why did I e'er that prime of bleffings know?
Was it, ye cruel fates, t'imbitter woe?
Why would your bolts not level firft my head ?
Why must I live to weep Olympia dead?
-Sir, I had once a wife! Fair bloom'd her youth, 125
Her form was beauty, and her foul was truth!
Oh, she was dear! How dear, what words can say?
She dies!my heaven at once is fnatch'd away!
Ah! what avails, that, by a father's care,
I rofe a wealthy and illuftrious heir?
That early in my youth I learn'd to prove
Th' inftructive, pleasing, academic grove?
That in the fenate eloquence was mine?
That valour gave me in the field to shine?
That love shower'd bleffings too-far more than all 135
High-rapt ambition e'er could happy call?
Ah! What are thefe, which ev'n the wife adore?
Loft is my pride!-Olympia is no more!
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