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The pangs of which I spoke I feel:
If worth like thine is borne,
O long beloved! I bless the blow,
Nor mourn I long; by grief subdued
Deep anguish comes by heaven's decree.
And when continued past its point,
Grief is disgrace, and what was fate
And shall I, criminally mean,
Madam! I grant your loss is great,
Let that be weighed; when weighed aright,
When heaven would kindly set us free,
But such a friend!-and sigh no more!
Heaven aid my weakness, and I drop
Perhaps your settled grief to sooth
But with soft balm your pain assuage,
Whose frequent aid brought kind relief
Tinged with his beams my cloudy page,
To touch our passions' secret springs
And deep his happy genius dived
Nature, which favours to the few
To him presented, at his birth,
But not to me by him bequeathed
His tender hand to touch the wound
Howe'er, proceed I must, unblessed
Know, Love, sometimes, mistaken Love!
Nor lands, nor seas, nor suns, nor stars,
Are you not then unkindly kind?
O! stop that crystal source of wo,
As those above from human bliss
May not a stroke from human wo,
In part their peace destroy?
He lives in those he left;-to what!
Clear from its clouds your brightened eye,
It will discern him there;
In features, not of form alone,
Think on the tempests he sustained,
Is consolation what you seek?
As nothing great is born in haste,
Nor, Madam! be surprised to hear,
Tender as is the female frame,
Beneath a banner nobler far
In fields of blood; a banner bright!
It, like a streaming meteor, casts
Sheds day, sheds more, eternal day,
Beneath that banner, what exploit
Go forth a moral Amazon,
The battle won, though costing dear,
The passive hero, who sits down
The billows stained by slaughtered foes
Reason's a bloodless conqueror
Nor can the thunder of huzzas
Such sweet delight, as from your heart
The dear deceased so famed in arms,
Share his delight; take heed to shun
That odd distemper, and absurd
Some seem in love with Sorrow's charms,
Sorrow! of horrid parentage!
Against heaven's endless mercies poured
From black and noxious vapours bred,
Thy most inglorious coward tears,
That duty gives up little more
Who bids us lay our burden down
To blessing a command.
For joy what cause! how every sense
The year around, with presents rich
But must o'erlook the blessings poured,
And terminate, wrapt up in sense,
From that their final point of view,
Broke loose from Time's tenacious ties,
They let unmarked, and unemployed
And doing nothing for themselves,
Fatal mistake! their fate goes on,
Though man sits still, and takes his ease,
No means, no moments unemployed,
But man consents not, boldly bent
Man, a mere bungler in the trade,
Hence loud laments. Let me thy cause,
Of all the wretches we deplore,
What is thy whole creation fair?
Of love divine the child:
Love brought it forth, and, from its birth, Has o'er it fondly smiled.
Now, and through periods distant far,
Long ere the world began,
Heaven is, and has in travail been,
Man holds in constant service bound
To final good the worst events
One point (observed, perhaps, by few)
What's known to man of things unseen,
So much, nor more, than what to man's
What's revelation then? a list,
Of that poor insects goods so late
What various motives to rejoice!
Has this no weight? Our joy is felt
Would we in heaven new heaven create,
A smiling world, when heaven looks down,
Angels stoop forward from the thrones
As incense sweet enjoy, and join,
Have we no cause to fear the stroke
Of heaven's avenging rod,
If we resign, our patience makes
Like that it swallows up whate'er
Consummate love! the list how large
Are such commands but ill obeyed?
The man who dares to be a wretch
Joy is our duty, glory, health;
| Joy is our Eden still possessed: Begone, ignoble Grief!
'Tis joy makes gods, and men exalts, Their nature our relief:
Relief, for man to that must stoop,
Content is joy; and joy in pain
Thus, whilst good present we possess,
Of joy the more we have in hand
"But how to smile, to stem the tide
Is it not hard to weep in joy?
Victorious joy! which breaks the clouds,
If doubly charming in our sex,
What then in yours? 'tis diamond there,
And should not this complaint repress
Yet farther opiate to your pain
I labour to supply.
Since spirits greatly damped distort
Look through the medium of a friend,
As tears the sight, grief dims the soul;
True friendship, like a rising sun,
A friend's an optic to the mind
Reason is somewhat rough in man;
When she, to grace her manly strength,
A friend you have,* and I the same,
Will bring to life those healing thoughts,
That friend, the spirit of my theme
Will leave me to the dreg, in thoughts
Let those lament, to whom full bowls
Wo to the soul at perfect ease!
Lulled Reason sleeps, the Pulse is king;
Have you ne'er pitied Joy's gay scenes,
Her mark lies hid in Sorrow's shades,
By Resignation; all in that
A wing to heaven, and, while on earth,
On pillows void of down for rest
When hopes of heaven lie warm at least,
That peace which resignation yields,
'Tis disbelieved by murmuring minds,
The loss or gain of that alone
That Fate controls, and can invert
O! the dark days, the year around,
Of an impatient mind;
Through clouds, and storms, a summer breaks,
While man, by that, of every grace
Foul Vice her Pandemonium builds
In the rebellious breast.
By Resignation we defeat
From small experience this I speak;
My love where due, if not to those
A theme themselves! a theme how rare!
With his own arms proud man's o'ercome,
Learning and Genius, wiser grown,
This revolution, fixed by Fate,
The dark prediction puzzled wits,
But as those ladies' works I read,
The latent sense burst out at once,
So burst full ripe distended fruits,
Pallas, ('tis said) when Jove grew dull,
And sprightly leaped into the throne
Her helmet took; that this, shot rays
And lance,-or genius most acute,
And Gorgon shield,—or, power to fright
And many a blockhead (easy change!)
Our authors male, as then did Jove,
The fruit of knowledge, golden fruit!
In Eve (we know) of fruit so fair
And they, like her, have caused a fall,
A fall of fame in man.
And since of genius in our sex,
O Addison! with thee
The sun is set, how I rejoice
It sheds, like Cynthia, silver beams
His lessened light, and languid powers, I show, whilst I relate.
BUT what in either sex, beyond
Heaven's choice is safer than our own:
What the most formidable fate?
If, in your wrath, the worst of foes
Expose him to the thunder's stroke,
What numbers rushing down the steep
Have perished in the ardent wish!
"Tis Resignation's full reverse,
Most wrong, as it implies
By closing with the skies, we make
That done, how formidable Ill's
No longer impotent and frail,
We scarce believe ourselves below;
The Lord, and Soul, and source of all,
Whilst man enjoys his ease,
Is executing human will
In earth, and air, and seas.
Beyond us what can angels boast?
What glory this for man so mean,
Beyond the boast of Pagan song,
And for a soil the lustre takes
Of Rome's exalted lines.
"All that the sun surveys subdued,
But Cato's mighty mind”—
How grand! most true: yet far beneath
To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,
Its matchless empire could have kept
That fatal pride, whose cruel point
Then he the palm had borne away,
Put him off cheaply with the world,
What can not Resignation do?
It wonders can perform:
That powerful charm, "Thy will be done,"
Come, Resignation! then, from fields,
A wing of flame, blessed martyrs' souls
Who is it calls thee? One whose need
Who stands in front against a foe
In front he stands, the brink he treads
How dreadful his appointed post!
His threatening foe! what shadows deep
His dart tremendous!-at fourscore
Haste then, O Resignation! haste,
My foe and me; at thy approach,
O for that summit of my wish,