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She has her E. Now mark a spot or two That so much beauty would do well to purge; And show this queen of cities, that so fair May yet be foul; so witty, yet not wise. It is not seemly, nor of good report, That she is slack in discipline; more prompt To avenge thau to prevent the breach of law: That she is rigid in denouncing death On #. robbers, and indulges life And liberty, and ofttimes honour too, To peculators of the public gold: That thieves at home must hang; but he, that puts Into his over-gorged and bloated purse The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes. Nor is it well, nor can it come to good, That, through o and infidel contempt Of holy writ, she has presumed to annul And abrogate, as roundly as she may, The total ordinance and will of God; Advancing Fashion to the post of Truth, And centring all authority in modes And customs of her own, till Sabbath rites Have dwindled into unrespected forms, And knees and hassocks are well-nigh divorced. God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts That can alone make sweet the bitter draught That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threaten’d in the fields and groves? Possess ye, therefore, ye who, borne about In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue But that of idleness, and taste no scenes But such as art contrives, possess ye still Your element; there only can ye shine; There only minds like yours can do no harm. Our groves were planted to console at noon The pensive wanderer in their shades. At eve The moonbeam, sliding softly in between The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, Birds warbling all the music. e can spare The splendour of your lamps; they but eclipse Our softer satellite. Your songs confound Qur more harmonious notes; the thrush departs Scared, and the offended nightingale is mute. There is a public mischief in your mirth; It plagues * country. . Folly such as yours, Gr with a sword, and worthier of a fan, Has made, what enemies could ne'er have done, Qur arch of empire, steadfast but for you, A mutilated structure, soon to fall.
Reflections suggested by the conclusion of the former book—Peace among the nations recommended on the ground of their common fellowship in sorrow—Prodigies enumerated—Sicilian earthquakes—Man rendered obnoxious to these calamities by sinGod the agent in them—The philosophy that stops at secondary causes reproved—Our own late miscarriages accounted for—Satirical notice taken of our trips to Fontainbleau–But the pulpit, not satire, the proper engine of reformation—The reveren advertiser of engraved sermons—Petit-maitre parson–The good preacher—Picture o a theatrical clerical coxcomb—Story-tellers andjesters in the pulpit reproved—Apostrophe to popular applause—Retailers of ancient philosophy expostulated with– Sum of the whole matter—Effects of sacerdotal mismanagement on the laity—Their folly and extravagance—The mischiefs of profusion—Profusion itself, with all its consequent evils, ascribed, as to its principal cause, to the want of discipline in the universities.
OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more! My ear is pain'd,
My soul is sick, with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill’d.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart,
It does not feel for man; the natural bond
Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Not colour'd like his own; and, having power
To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed
Make enemies of nations, who had else
Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;
And, worse than all, and most to be deplored,
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat
With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart,
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then, what is man! And what man, seeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush,
And hang his head, to think himself a man?
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation prized above all price,
I had much rather be myself the slave,
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.
We have no slaves at home:-then why abroad?
And they themselves, once ferried o'er the wave
That parts us, are emancipate and loosed.
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free;
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
Andjealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through every vein
Of all your empire; that where Britain's power
Isfelt, mankind may feel her mercy too.
Sure there is need of social intercourse,
Benevolence, and peace, and mutual aid,
Between the nations in a world that seems
To toll the death-bell of its own decease,
And by the voice of all its elements
To preach the general doom.” When were the winds
Let slip with such a warrant to destroy?
When did the waves so haughtily ..
Their ancient barriers, deluging the dry
Fires from beneath, and meteorst from above,
Portentous, unexampled, unexplain'd,
Have kindled beaconsin the skies ; and the old
And crazy earth has had her shaking fits
}: frequent, and foregone her usual rest.
s it a time to wrangle, when the*
And pillars of our planet seem to fail,
And Nature: with a dim and sickly eye
To wait the close of all? But grant her end
More distant, and that o demands
A longer respite, unaccomplish'd yet;
Still they are frowning signals, and bespeak
§o. in His breast who smites the earth
Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice.
And 'tis but seemly, that, where all deserve
And stand exposed by common peccancy
To what no few have felt, there should be peace,
And brethren in calamity should love.
Alas for Sicily rude fragments now
Lie scatter'd where the shapely column stood.
Her palaces are dust. In all her streets
The voice of singing and the sprightly chord
Are silent. Revelry, and dance, and show
Suffer a syncope and solemn pause;
While God performs upon the trembling stage
Of his own works the dreadful part alone.
How does the earth receive him 1–with what signs
Of gratulation and ". her King?
Pours she not all her choicest fruits abroad,
Her sweetest flowers, her aromatic gums,
Disclosing Paradise where'er he treads?
She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb
Conceiving thunders, through a thousand deeps
And fiery caverns, roars beneath his foot.
The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke,
For he has touch'd them. From the extremest point
Of elevation down into the abyss .
His wrath is busy, and his frown is felt.
The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rise,
The rivers die into offensive pools,
And, charged with putrid verdure, breathe a gross
And mortal nuisance into all the air;
What solid was, by transformation strange,
Grows fluid ; and the fix’d and rooted earth,
Tormented into billows, heaves and swells,
Or with a vortiginous and hideous whirl
Sucks down its prey insatiable. Immense
The tumult and the overthrow, the pangs
And agonies of human and of brute
Multitudes, fugitive on every side,
And fugitive in vain. The sylvan sceno
Migrates uplifted ; and with all its soil
Alighting in far distant fields, finds out
A new possessor, and survives the change.
Ocean has caught the frenzy, and, upwrought
To an enormous and o'erbearing height,
Not by a mighty wind, but by that Woice
Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore
Resisties. Never such a sudden flood
Upridged so high, and sent on such a charge,
Possess'd an inland scene. Where now the throng
That press'd the beach, and, hasty to depart,
Look'd to the sea for safety? They are gone,
Gone with the refluent wave into the deep—
A prince with half his people! Ancient towers,
And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes
Where beauty oft and letter'd worth consume
Life in the unproductive shades of death,
Fall prone: the pale inhabitants come forth
And, happy in their unforeseen release
From all the Fo of restraint, .#
The terrors of the day that sets them free.
Who then, that has thee, would not hold thee fast,
Freedom! whom they that lose thee so regret,
That een a judgment, making way for thee,
Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake.
Sugh, evil sin hath wrought; and such a flame
Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth,".