According to thy faith shall it be given 'Tis easy thing to say, that men are knaves; The incomprehensible, to allege-and saves We know all this; but we know also well, In virtue, and in happiness. Since bless'd And plague,-for these have they,-should they assail, A panacea which will never fail. God is their rock, their fortress of defence, Ye, that might cavil at these humble lays, To luxuries used, they all aside are thrown; To poverty devoted, she defies Its sorest ills, blessing the sacrifice. Was e'er an instance known, that man could taste Constant coincidence; effect, and cause, The one, the other. This coincidence But grant me here;-and grant the consequence. Facts, facts, are stubborn things! We trust the sense And was confounded? cover'd with dismay? Loses he health? Religion balms his mind, Then e'en in lustiest health e'er found a place. He had before renounced; thus he can trace He too as much enjoys the spectacle Of good, when done by others as by him: And all its vaults, echo his rapturous hymn! His heaven-shrin'd spirit finds heaven every where! 'Tis not romance which we are uttering! No; Thousands of volumes each word's truth attest! Thousands of souls redeem'd from all below Can bring a proof, that, e'en while earthly guest, 'Tis possible for man that peace to know, Which maketh him impassive to the test Of mortal sufferance! Many and many a martyr Pleasure, or philosophical or sensual, Is not, ought not to be, man's primary rule; We often feel bound by a law potential To do those things which e'en our reasons fool. God, and he only, sees the consequential; The mind, well nurtur'd in religion's school Feels that He only-to whom all's obedientHas right to guide itself by the expedient. Duty is man's first law, not satisfaction! That satisfaction comes from this perform'd, We grant! But should this be the prime attraction That led us to performance, soon inform'd By finding that we've miss'd the meed of action, We shall confess our error. Oft we're warm'd, By a strong spirit we cannot restrain, To deeds, which make all calculation vain. Had Regulus reason'd, whether on the scale He never had resum'd his fatal post. Their country's cause, had never been her boast. Yet had it not these self.doom'd heroes seen, Rome "the eternal city," ne'er had been! Shall Christ submit upon the cross to bleed, Of this enlighten'd age! Take off the mask! Thy name, Thermopyle, had ne'er been heard, It is (because, perhaps, our narrower ken Their heights cannot descry; yea, and a curse "Twill bring) to make a theory of the worse. A theory for a declining race! No, let us keep at least our lips from lies; We well may wear a blush upon our face, Go to Palmyra's ruins; visit Greece, Behold! The wrecks of her magnificence Seem left, in spite of man, thus to increase The sting of satire on his impotence. As to betray how soon man's glories cease; The following is only a portion of a series of reminiscences equally luxurious and intense, and which are attended throughout by that vein of reflection which our author never loses: Oh, were the eye of youth a moment ours! When every flower that gemm'd the various earth Prophecied to us in romantic bowers! Love was the garniture, whose blameless birth We can remember earliest days of spring, When violets blue and white, and primrose pale, Rising like incense from the breathing world, When a soft moisture, steaming every where, To the earth's countenance mellower hues imparted; When sylvan choristers self-pois'd in air, Or perched on bows, in shrilly quiverings darted Oh, in these moments we such joy have felt, When shapes, and sounds, seem'd as but modes of Thee!) Oft in the fulness of the joy ye give, Oh, days of youth! in summer's noon-tide hours, Did I a depth of quietness receive From insects' drowsy hum, that all my powers Would baffle to portray! Let them that live In vacant solitude, speak from their bowers What nameless pleasures letter'd ease may cheer, Thee, Nature! bless'd to mark with eye and ear! Who can have watch'd the wild rose' blushing dye, From white to deepest flush of vermeil stain? Its petals breath'd perfume, while he did strain His very being, lest the sense should fail T'imbibe each sweet its beauties did exhale? Who amid lanes, on eve of summer days, Which sheep brouse, could the thicket's wealth behold? The fragrant honey-suckle's bowery maze? The furze bush, with its vegetable gold? In every satin sheath that helps to raise The fox-glove's cone, the figures manifold With such a dainty exquisiteness wrought ? Nor grant that thoughtful love they all have taught? The daisy, cowslip, each have to them given- I had a cottage in a Paradise! "Twere hard to enumerate the charms combin'd Within the little space, greeting the eyes, Its unpretending precincts that confin'd. Onward, in front, a mountain stream did rise Up, whose long course the fascinated mind (So apt the scene to awaken wildest themes) Might localize the most romantic dreams. When winter torrents, by the rain and snow, |