THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT I. ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. ΤΟ THE RIGHT HON. ARTHUR ONSLOW, ESQ. SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. TIR'D Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep! From short (as usual) and disturb'd repose 2 THE COMPLAINT. From wave to wave of fancied misery At random drove, her helm of reason lost. Though now restor❜d 'tis only change of pain, (A bitter change!) severer for severe. The day too short for my distress; and night, Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, Thou, who didst put to flight Primeval Silence, when the morning stars, O Thou, whose word from solid darkness struck Through this opaque of nature and of soul, This double night, transmit one pitying ray, To lighten and to cheer. O lead my mind, (A mind that fain would wander from its woe) Lead it through various scenes of life and death, And from each scene the noblest truths inspire. Nor less inspire my conduct than my song; Teach my best reason, reason; my best will Teach rectitude; and fix my firm resolve Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear: Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, pour'd On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain. The bell strikes One. We take no note of time But from its loss: to give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they? With the years beyond the flood. How much is to be done? My hopes and fears Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour? Midway from nothing to the Deity; A worm! a god!-I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost. At home a stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surpris'd, aghast, And wondering at her own. How reason reels! O what a miracle to man is man! Triumphantly distress'd! what joy! what dread! Alternately transported and alarm'd! What can preserve my life! or what destroy! An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave: Legions of angels can't confine me there. 'Tis past conjecture: all things rise in proof. While o'er my limbs Sleep's soft diminion spreads, What though my soul fantastic measures trod O'er fairy fields, or mourn'd along the gloom Of pathless woods, or down the craggy steep Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool. Or scal'd the cliff, or danc'd on hollow winds With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain! Her ceaseless flight, tho' devious, speaks her nature Of subtler essence than the trodden clod, Active, aërial, towering, unconfin'd, Unfetter'd with her gross companion's fall. Ev'n silent night proclaims my soul immortal; Ev'n silent night proclaims eternal day! For human weal Heaven husbands all events: Why then their loss deplore that are not lost? Why wanders wretched Thought their tombs around. In infidel distress? Are angels there? Is he, not yet a candidate for light, Yet man, fool man! here buries all his thoughts, Inters celestial hopes without one sigh; |