20

10

That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks
Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endu'd
With eloquence, that agonies inspire,
Of silent tears, and heart-distending sighs!
Vain tears, alas, and sighs, that never find
A corresponding tone in jovial souls!
Well-one at least is safe. One shelter'd hare
Has never heard the sanguinary yell
Of cruel man, exulting in her woes.
Innocent partner of my peaceful home,
Whom ten long years' experience of my care
Has made at last familiar. She has lost
Much of her vigilant, instinctive dread,
Not needful here, beneath a roof, like mine.
Yes--thou may'st eat thy bread, & lick the hand
That feeds thee; thou may'st frolic on the floor
At evening, and at night retire secure
To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarm'd ; 20
For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd
All that is human in me, to protect
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love.
If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave;

15

NO. 105. THE ICE PALACE.

I knew at least one hare that had a friend.

5

And spotted with all crimes; in whom, I see
Much that I love, and more that I admire,
And all that I abhor; thou freckl'd fair,
That pleasest, and yet shock'st me, I can laugh,
And I can weep, can hope, and can despond,
Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee!
Ten righteous would have sav'd a city once;
And thou hast many righteous.-Well for thee,
That salt preserves thee; more corrupted else,
And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour,
Than Sodom, in her day, had pow'r to be;
For whom God heard his Abr'am plead in vain.

⚫ stores,

10

15

Because a novelty, the work of man, Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ! Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, The wonder of the North. No forest fell, 5 When thou wouldst build; no quarry sent its [floods, T'enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the And make thy marble of the glassy wave. In such a palace, poctry might place The armory of winter; where his troops, The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet, Skin-piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail, And snow,that often blinds the trav'ller's course, And wraps him in an unexpected tomb. Silently as a dream, the fabric rose; No sound of hammer or of saw was there. Ice upon ice, the well adjusted parts Were soon conjoin'd; nor other cement ask'd, Than water, interfus'd, to make them one. Lamps gracefully dispos'd, and of all hues, 20 Illumin'd ev'ry side; a wat❜ry light [seem'd Gleam'd through the clear transparency, that Another moon new risen, or meteor fall'n From heav'n to earth, of lambent flame serene. So stood the brittle prodigy; though smooth 25 And slipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound, Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within, That royal residence might well befit, For grandeur or for use. Long, wavy wreaths Of flow'rs, that fear'd no enemy but warmth, 30 Blush'd on the pannels. Mirror needed none, Where all was vitreous; but in order due, Convivial table and commodious seat [there; (What seem'd at least commodious seat) were Sofa and couch and high built throne august. The same lubricity was found in all, And all was moist to the warm touch; a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream,

40

And soon to slide into a stream again. Alas! 'twas but a mortifying stroke Of undesign'd severity, that glanc'd (Made by a monarch) on her own estate, On human grandeur and the courts of kings. 'Twas transient in its nature, as in show 'Twas durable; as worthless, as it seem'd 45 Intrinsically precious; to the foot, [cold. Treach'rous and false; it smil'd, and it was

Which monarchs cannot grant, nor all the

pow'rs

5

IS liberty alone, gives flow'r

5

10

15

And we are weeds without it. All constraint,
Except what wisdom lays on evil men,
Is evil; hurts the faculties, impedes
Their progress in the road of science; blinds
The eye-sight of discovery; and begets,
In those that suffer it, a sordid mind,
Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit
To be the tenant of man's noble form.
Thee therefore still, blame-worthy as thou art,
With all thy loss of empire, and tho' squeez'd
By public exigence, till annual food
Fails for the craving hunger of the state,
Thee I account still happy, and the chief
Among the nations, seeing thou art free;
My native nook of earth! Thy clime is rude,
Replete with vapors, and disposes much
All hearts to sadness, and none more than mine.
Thine unadult'rate manners are less soft 20
And plausible, than social life requires;
And thou hast need of discipline and art,
To give thee what politer France receives
From nature's bounty-that humane address
And sweetness, without which no pleasure is
In converse, either starv'd by cold reserve,
Or flush'd with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl;
Yet, being free, I love thee; for the sake
Of that one feature, can be well content,
Disgrac'd as thou hast been, poor as thou art, 30
To seek no sublunary rest beside.
But, once enslav'd, farewell! I could endure
Chains no where patiently; and chains at home,
Where I am free by birth-right, not at all.
Then, what were left of roughness in the grain
Of Britsh natures, wanting its excuse,
That it belongs to freemen, would disgust
And shock me. I should then, with double pain,
Feel all the rigor of thy fickle clime;
And, if I must bewail the blessing lost,
For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled,
I would at least bewail it under skies
Milder, among a people less austere ;
In scenes, which, having never known me free,
Would not reproach me with the loss I felt. 45

NO. 107. LIBERTY OF HEART.

BUT there, yet

By poets, and by senators, unprais'd,

40

And are august; but this transcends them all. His other works, the visible display

Of all-creating energy and might,

20

25

30

Are grand, no doubt, and worthy of the word,
That, finding an interminable space
Unoccupied, has fill'd the void so well,
And made so sparkling, what was dark before.
But these are not his glory. Man, 'tis true,
Smit with the beauty of so fair a scene,
Might well suppose, th' artificer divine
Meant it eternal, had he not himself
Pronounc'd it transient, glorious as it is,
And, still designing a more glorious far,
Doom'd it as insufficient for his praise.
These, therefore, are occasional, and pass;
Form'd for the confutation of the fool,
Whose lying heart disputes against a God;
That office serv'd, they must be swept away.
Not so the labors of his love; they shine
In other heav'ns, than these that we behold,
And fade not. There is a paradise, that fears
No forfeiture, and of its fruits, he sends
Large prelibation oft to saints below.
Of these the first in order, and the pledge
And confident assurance of the rest,
Is liberty;--a flight into his arms,
Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way,
A clear escape from tyrannizing lust,
And full immunity from penal woe.

NO. 108. MISERIES OF SIN.
HAINS are the portion of revolted man,

CHA

40

5

Stripes and a dungeon; and his body serves The triple purpose. In that sickly, foul, Opprobrious residence, he finds them all. Propense his heart to idols; he is held In silly dotage on created things, Careless of their Creator. And that low And sordid gravitation of his pow'rs To a vile clod, so draws him, with such force Resistless from the centre, he should seek, 10 That he at last forgets it. All his hopes Tend downward; his ambition is to sink, To reach a depth profounder still, and still Profounder, in the fathomless abyss Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death. But, ere he gain the comfortless repose

15

He seeks, and acquiescence of his soul,
In heav'n-renouncing exile, he endures
What does he not, from lusts oppos'd in vain,
And self-reproaching conscience? He foresees
The fatal issue to his health, fame, peace, 21
Fortune, and dignity; the loss of all,
That can ennoble man, and make frail life,
Short as it is, supportable. Still worse,
Far worse than all the plagues, with which his
25

sins

Infect his happiest moments, "he forebodes
Ages of hopeless mis'ry; future death,
And death still future. Not a hasty stroke,
Like that, which sends him to a dusty grave;
But unrepealable, enduring death!
Scripture is still a trumpet to his fears.
What none can prove a forg'ry, may be true;
What none but bad men wish exploded, must.
That scruple checks him. Riot is not loud,
Nor drunk enough to drown it. In the midst
Of laughter, his compunctions are sincere; 36
And he abhors the jest, by which he shines.
Remorse begets reform. His master-lust
Falls first before his resolute rebuke, [ensues,
And seems dethron'd and vanquish'd, Peace
But spurious and short-liv'd. Again he falls,
And fights again; but finds his best essay
A presage ominous, portending still
Its own dishonor, by a worse relapse.
Till nature, unavailing nature, foil'd
So oft, and wearied in the vain attempt,
Scoffs at her own performance. Reason now
Takes part with appetite, and pleads the cause,
Perversely, which of late she so condemn'd;
With shallow shifts and old devices, worn 50
And tatter'd in the service of debauch,
Cov'ring his shame from his offended sight.
NO. 109. THE GLORY OF MARTYRDOM.
ATRIOTS have toil'd, and in their coun-
try's cause,

PATRI

E is the freeman, whom the truth makes free, There's not a chain, That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he casts it off With as much ease, as Samson his green

And all are slaves beside.

withes.

Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, Receive proud recompense. We give in charge Their names to the sweet lyre. Th' historic

muse,

Proud of the treasure, marches with it down 5
To latest times; and sculpture, in her turn,
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass,
To guard them, and t' immortalize her trust;
But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid,
To those, who, posted at the shrine of truth,
Have fall'n in her defence. A patriot's blood,
Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed,
And for a time ensure, to his lov'd land,
The sweets of liberty and equal laws;
But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize,
And win it, with more pain. Their blood is shed
In confirmation of the noblest claim-
Our claim to feed upon immortal truth,
To walk with God, to be divinely free,

15

16

25

30

With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love,
That plann'd, & built, & still upholds, a world,
So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man?
Yes-ye may fill your garners, ye that reap
The loaded soil; and ye may waste much good,
In senseless riot; but ye will not find
In feast or in the chase, in song or dance,
A liberty like his, who, unimpeach’d
Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong,
Appropriates nature, as his Father's work,
And has a richer use of your's, than you.
He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth,
Of no mean city; plann'd, or ere the hills
Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea
With all his roaring multitude of waves.
His freedom is the same in every state;
And no condition of this changeful life,
So manifold in cares, whose ev'ry day
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less;
For he has wings, that neither sickness, pain,
Nor penury, can cripple or confine.
40
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there
With ease, and is at large. Th' oppressor holds
His body bound, but knows not, what a range

35

Ilis spirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt,
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.

NO. 111. TASTE AND JUDGMENT
PROVED BY GRACE.

CQUAINT thyself with God, if thou
would'st taste

His works. Admitted once to his embrace,
Thou shalt perceive,that thou wast blind before;
Thine eye shall be instructed; and thine heart
Made pure, shall relish, with divine delight, 5
"Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wro't.
Brutes graze the mountain-top,with faces prone,
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb,
It yields them; or recumbent on its brow,
Ruminate, heedless of the scene, outspread
Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away,
From inland regions to the distant main.
Man views it, and admires; but rests content
With what he views. The landscape has his
praise;

10

But not its author. Unconcern'd who form'd
The paradise he sees, he finds it such,
And such well pleas'd to find it, asks no more.
Not so the mind, that has been touch'd from
heav'n,

And in the school of sacred wisdom taught
To read his wonders, in whose thought, the
world,
20

Fair as it is, existed, ere it was.

Not for its own sake merely, but for his,
Much more, who fashion'd it, he gives it praise;
Praise, that from earth resulting, as it ought,
To earth's acknowledg'd sovereign, finds at
20

once,

Its only just proprietor in Him.

The soul, that sees him, or receives sublim'd
New faculties, or learns at least to employ
More worthily the powers she own'd before,
Discerns in all things, what, with stupid gaze
Of ignorance, till then she overlook'd,
A ray of heav'nly light, gilding all forms
Terrestrial, in the vast and the minute,
The unambiguous footsteps of the God,
Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds;
Much conversant with heav'n, she often holds
With those fair ministers of light to man,
That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp,
Sweet conference; inquires, what strains were
they,

With which heav'n rang, when every star,
haste

35

55

70

So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth Illuminates; thy lamp, mysterious Word! Which whoso sees, no longer wanders lost, With intellects bemaz'd in endless doubt, But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built With means, that were not, till by thee employ'd, [strength, Worlds, that had never been, hadst thou in Been less, or less benevolent than strong. They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow'r And goodness infinite, but speak in ears, That hear not, or receive not their report. In vain, thy creatures testify of thee, Till thou proclaim thyself. Their's is indeed A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine, That whom it teaches, it makes prompt to learn, And with the boon, gives talents for its use. Till thou art heard, imaginations vain Possess the heart, and fables false as hell; Yet, deem'd oracular, lure down to death The uninform'd and heedless souls of men. Yet thus we dote, refusing, while we can, Instruction, and inventing to ourselves, Gods, such as guilt makes welcome; gods, that sleep,

85

90

in

To gratulate the new-created earth,
Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of God
Shouted for joy.-" Tell me, ye shining hosts,
That navigate a sea, that knows no storms, 45
Beneath a vault, unsulli'd with a cloud,
If from your elevation, whence ye view

100

A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works; Which he that hears it with a shout repeats,