What sight, heaven's azure arch beneath, At death's arrival they shall smile Serious and frequent thought send out My gay coevals! (such there are) The fear of death is truly wise, Grand climacteric vanities Shocked when, beneath the snow of age, But am not I myself the man? In life's decline, when men relapse The second child outfools the first, Shall a mere truant from the grave His trembling voice attempt to sing, Here, Madam! let me visit one, My fault who partly shares, And if your breast with prudent zeal For Resignation glows, You will not disapprove a just In youth, Voltaire! our foibles plead For some indulgence due; When heads are white, their thoughts and aims Should change their colour too. How are you cheated by your wit! Old age is bound to pay, By Nature's law, a mind discreet, For joys it takes away. A mighty change is wrought by years, Reversing human lot; In age 'tis honour to ne hid, 'Tis praise to be forgot; The wise, as flowers, which spread at noon, And all their charms expose, When evening damps and shades descend, Their evolutions close. What though your Muse has nobly soared, Is that our true sublime? Ours, hoary friend! is to prefer Why close a life so justly famed This for renown? yes, such as makes Your trash, with mine at open war Is obstinately bent,t Like wits below, to sow your tares Of gloom and discontent. With so much sunshine at command, Why dash with pain our pleasure? why Your works in our divided minds From a black bag of poison spun, I can't forgive so great a foe Early I knew him, early praised, Nor would deplore his fate : A fate how much to be deplored, At which our nature starts! "But great your name"-To feed on air Nothing is great, of which more great, Can fame your carcass from the worm, But fame you lose; good sense alone Nor boast our genius; talents bright E'en dunces will despise, If in your western beams is missed A genius for the skies. Your taste, too, fails: what most excels, Sound heads salvation's helmet* seek; Let that suffice; it needs no plume May this enable couched Voltaire His eye, by flash of wit struck blind, If so, all's well: who much have erred, Nay, such philanthropy divine, Let others cruel stars arraign, Walking, the present God was seen, The God as present, by plain steps I behold passing through my life; But where the trees, or where the clouds, Naked the centre to that eye As yonder glittering lamps on high May thoughts of him by whom they shine My soul, which reads his hand as clear As in his ample manuscript Of sun, and moon, and stars; And knows him not more bent aright To wield that vast machine, Than to correct one erring thought A world that shall survive the fall Survive, when suns ten thousand drop, Yon matter gross, how bright it shines! Far richer glories share. Let those our hearts impress, on those On those my thoughts how justly thrown, When backward with attentive mind I find him far myself beyond Through all the crooked paths I trod My heart astray, to quick return Due Resignation home to press How many foes in ambush laid Have I not sometimes, (real good I rarely planned, but cause I found By sharpened appetite to give And is not this the gloomy path When labouring under fancied ill, He kindly cured with sovereign draughts Pained Sense from Fancy's tyranny Alone can set us free: A thousand miseries we feel, Cloyed with a glut of all we wish, Sometimes, he led me near to death, To raise my thoughts beyond where worlds As spangles o'er us shine, One day he gave, and bid the next My soul's delight resign. We to ourselves, but through the means Of mirrors are unknown; In this my fate can you descry And if you can, let that excuse In grief why deep ingulfed? you see When streams flow backward to their source, And mountains winged shall fly aloft, But human prudence, too, must cease The pang most poignant of my life Now heightens my delight; From Chaos and old Night. From what seemed horror and despair, And gave me in the nod divine, Of all the blunders of mankind, But whither points all this parade? Of self-perusal, science rare! Learned prelates, self-unread, may read Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself (So sages tell us) came, What is it but a daughter fair Of my maternal theme? Unlettered and untraveled men Would they consult their own contents, Enter your bosom; there you'll find A revolution new, A revolution personal, Which none can read but you. There will you clearly read revealed A mighty Being! and in him A complicated friend, A father, brother, spouse; no dread Who such a matchless friend embrace, And lodge him in their heart, As when o'erloaded branches bear My short advice to you may sound Though 'tis the best that man can give, "E'en be content with God." Through love he gave you the deceased; This friend far past the kindest kind, His greatness let me touch in points His eye, this instant, reads your heart, A truth less obvious hear, This instant its most secret thoughts Are sounding in his ear. Dispute you this? O stand in awe, And twice ten thousand hence, if you Your temper reconcile To Reason's bound, will he behold A smile which through eternity The dimmest deifies e'en guilt, Your guilt (for guilt it is to mourn, Here, then, your sorrows cease, if not, Who guilt increase by streaming tears, Of tears that gush profuse restrain; Not angels (hear it, and exult!) Than is indulged to you, and yours, Anxious for each, as if on each And is he then so near? so kind?- His fate, who yesterday did crawl And shall, with brother worms, beneath How mean! and yet if well obeyed The whole creation for mean man Too small the whole creation deemed Account amazing! yet most true; Man born for infinite, in whom No period can destroy The power, in exquisite extremes Give him earth's empire (if no more) For what's the sun's meridian blaze To the most feeble ray Which glimmers in the distant dawn "Tis not the poet's rapture feigned They warm e'en me.--I dare not say Not to bless only, but confound, And yet so frightful what, or kind, The darkened sun, and rising dead, And are we darker than the sun? Yea, e'en in agonies forbear Whate'er endears eternity, Is mercy from above. What most imbitters time, that most Eternity endears; And thus by plunging in distress, Joy's fountain-head! where bliss o'er bliss, Ambrosial banquet! rich in wines What transports sparkle from the stream, Fountain profuse of every bliss! Thy love and might, by what they know Of thy exuberant good-will, The thousandth part who comprehends, How yonder ample azure field With radiant worlds is sown! How tubes astonish us with those More deep in ether thrown! And those beyond of brighter worlds Why not a million more? Since thou art infinite in power, Since man, quite impotent and blind, Say, what is Resignation? "Tis And Wisdom grasping, with a hand Let rash repiners stand appalled, Whose abject souls, like demons dark, For man to murmur or repine No less absurd than to complain, Of darkness in the sun. Who would not, with a heart at ease, What though I'm swallowed in the deep! Thy will is welcome, let it wear Its most tremendous form: Roar, Waves! rage, Winds! I know that thou From thee immortal spirits born, Not less compelled by Reason's call, Than to thy skies, by Nature's law To thee aspiring they exult: I feel my spirits rise, I feel myself thy son, and pant Since ardent thirst of future good, To thee man's prudence strongly ties, Since great thy love, and great our want, And bliss our aim, pronounce us all Resigned through duty, interest, shame; When (wondrous truth!) in heaven itself And pain for me! for me was drained And shall one drop, to murmur bold If pardoned this, what cause, what crime, The sun was lighted up to shine, And when to praise thee man shall cease, A cloud dishonours both, but man's For, oh! ingratitude how black! At love, which man, beloved, o'erlooks, Praise cheers and warms, like generous wine; Prayer points our ready path to heaven; Let plausive Resignation rise, All virtues thronging into one, Makes the man blest as man can be; Life's labours renders light; Darts beans through Fate's incumbent gloom, And lights our sun by night. "Tis Nature's brightest ornament, The richest gift of Grace, Rival of angels, and supreme Proprietor of peace: Nay, peace beyond no small degree Of rapture 'twill impart; Know, Madam!" when your heart's in heaven, "All heaven is in your heart." But who to heaven their hearts can raise? All virtue dies; support divine The wise with ardour court: When prayer partakes the seraph's fire, 'Tis mounted on his wing, Bursts through heaven's crystal gates, and gains The labouring soul from sore distress I see you far advanced in peace; I see you on your knees. |