Page images
PDF
EPUB

Chequer'd variety in all her forms,

Which the vague mind attract and still suspend
With sweet perplexity. What are yon towers,
The work of labouring man and clumsy art,
Seen with the ring-dove's nest-on that tall beech
Her pensile house the feather'd artist builds-
The rocking winds molest her not; for see,
With such due poise the wond'rous fabric's hung,
That, like the compass in the bark, it keeps
True to itself, and stedfast ev'n in storms.
Thou idiot, that assert'st there is no God,
View, and be dumb for ever-

Go bid Vitruvius or Palladio yield

The bee his mansion, or the ant her cave-
Go call Correggio, or let Titian come

To paint the hawthorn's bloom, or teach the cherry
To blush with just vermilion-hence away-
Hence, ye profane! for God himself is here.
Vain were the' attempt, and impious, to trace
Through all his works the' Artificer divine-
And though nor shining sun, nor twinkling star,
Bedeck'd the crimson curtains of the sky;
Though neither vegetable, beast nor bird,
Were extant on the surface of this ball,

Nor lurking gem beneath; though the great sea
Slept in profound stagnation, and the air
Had left no thunder to pronounce its Maker;
Yet man at home, within himself, might find
The Deity immense, and in that frame
So fearfully, so wonderfully made,

See and adore his providence and power

I

see, and I adore-O God most bounteous!

O Infinite of Goodness and of Glory!

The knee that thou hast shap'd, shall bend to thee, The tongue which thou hast tun'd shall chant thy praise,

And thy own image, the immortal soul,
Shall consecrate herself to thee forever.

ON THE

OMNISCIENCE OF THE SUPREME

BEING.

(ADDRESSED TO THE ARCHBISHOP OF
CANTERBURY.)

ARISE, divine Urania, with new strains
To hymn thy God; and thou, immortal fame,
Arise and blow thy everlasting trump.
All glory to the' Omniscient, and praise,
And power and domination in the height!
And thou, cherubic gratitude, whose voice
To pious ears sounds silverly so sweet,
Come with thy precious incense, bring thy gifts,
And with thy choicest stores the altar crown.
Thou too, my heart, when He, and He alone,
Who all things knows, can know with love replete,
Regenerate, and pure, pour all thyself

A living sacrifice before his throne:

And may the' eternal, high mysterious tree,
That in the centre of the arched heavens

Bears the rich fruit of knowledge, with some branch
Stoop to my humble reach, and bless my toil!

When in my mother's womb conceal'd I lay, A senseless embryo, then my soul thou knew'st, Knew'st all her future workings, every thought, D d

VOL. XXX.

And every faint idea yet unform'd.
When up the imperceptible ascent

Of growing years, led by thy hand I rose,
Perception's gradual light that ever dawns
Insensibly to day, thou didst vouchsafe,
And teach me by that reason thou inspir'dst,
That what of knowledge in my mind was low,
Imperfect, incorrect-in thee is wondrous,
Uncircumscrib'd, unsearchably profound,
And estimable solely by itself.

What is that secret power, that guides the brutes, Which ignorance calls instinct? 'Tis from thee, It is the operation of thine hands,

Immediate, instantaneous; 'tis thy wisdom,

That glorious shines transparent through thy works.
Who taught the pie, or who forewarn❜d the jay
To shun the deadly nightshade? though the cherry
Boasts not a glossier hue, nor does the plum
Lure with more seeming sweets the amorous eye;
Yet will not the sagacious birds, decoy'd
By fair appearance, touch the noxious fruit.
They know to taste is fatal, whence alarm'd
Swift on the winnowing winds they work their way.
Go to, proud reasoner, philosophic man, [No.
Hast thou such prudence, thou such knowledge?—
Full many a race has fall'n into the snare
Of meretricious looks, of pleasing surface,
And oft in desert isles the famish'd pilgrim,
By forms of fruit and luscious taste beguil❜d,
Like his forefather Adam, eats and dies.
For why his wisdom on the leaden feet
Of slow experience, dully tedious, creeps,
And comes like vengeance, after long delay,
The venerable sage that nightly trims

The learned lamp, to' investigate the powers
Of plants medicinal, the earth, the air,

And the dark regions of the fossil world,

Grows old in following what he ne'er shall find;
Studious in vain! till haply, at the last

He spies a mist, then shapes it into mountains,
And baseless fabric from conjecture builds.
While the domestic animal, that guards
At midnight hours his threshold, if oppress'd
By sudden sickness at his master's feet
Begs not that aid his services might claim,
But is his own physician, knows the case,
And from the' emetic herbage works his cure.
Hark from afar the feather'd matron" screams,
And all her brood alarms; the docile crew
Accept the signal one and all, expert

In the' art of nature and unlearn'd deceit :
Along the sod, in counterfeited death,
Mute, motionless they lie; full well appris'd
That the rapacious adversary's near.

But who inform'd her of the approaching danger,
Who taught the cautious mother, that the hawk
Was hatch'd her foe, and liv'd by her destruction?
Her own prophetic soul is active in her,
And more than human providence her guard.
When Philomela, ere the cold domain
Of crippled winter 'gins to' advance, prepares
Her annual flight, and in some poplar shade
Takes her melodious leave, who then's her pilot?
Who points her passage through the pathless void
To realms from us remote, to us unknown?
Her science is the science of her God.
Not the magnetic index to the north

The Hen Turkey.

E'er ascertains her course, nor buoy, nor beacon;
She, heaven-taught voyager, that sails in air,
Courts nor coy west nor east, but instant knows
What Newton, or nought sought, or sought in vain.*
Illustrious name, irrefragable proof

Of man's vast genius, and the soaring soul!
Yet what wert thou to him, who knew his works,
Before creation form'd them, long before
He measured in the hollow of his hand

The' exulting ocean, and the highest heavens
He comprehended with a span, and weigh'd
The mighty mountains in his golden scales:
Who shone supreme; who was himself the light,
Ere yet refraction learn'd her skill to paint,
And bend athwart the clouds her beauteous bow?
When knowledge at her father's dread command
Resign'd to Israel's king her golden key,
Oh, to have join'd the frequent auditors
In wonder and delight, that whilom heard
Great Solomon descanting on the brutes!
Oh, how sublimely glorious to apply
To God's own honour, and good will to man,
That wisdom he alone of men possess'd
In plentitude so rich, and scope so rare!
How did he rouse the pamper'd silken sons
Of bloated ease, by placing to their view
The sage industrious ant, the wisest insect,
And best economist of all the field!
Though she presumes not by the solar orb
To measure times and seasons, nor consults
Chaldean calculations, for a guide:

Yet conscious that December's on the march,
Pointing with icy hand to want and woe,

* The longitude.

« PreviousContinue »