With fure prefages of a life to come;
All falfe and useless, if beyond the tomb
Our beings cease: we therefore can't believe
God either acts in vain, or can deceive.
If ev'ry rule of equity demands,
That Vice and Virtue from the Almighty's hands
Should due rewards and punishments receive,
And this by no means happens whilft we live;
It follows, that a time muft furely come,
When each fhall meet their well-adjusted doom:
Then fhall this fcene, which now to human fight
Seems fo unworthy Wisdom infinite,
A fyftem of confummate skill appear,
And ev'ry cloud difpers'd, be beautiful and clear.
Doubt we of this? What folid proof remains,
That o'er the world a wife Difpofer reigns?
Whilft all Creation speaks a pow'r divine,
Is it deficient in the main defign?
Not fo the day fhall come, (pretend not now
Prefumptuous to enquire or when, or how,
But) after death fhall come th' important day,
When God to all his justice shall display;
Each action with impartial eyes regard,
And in a just proportion punish and reward.
DIDACTIC, DESCRIPTIVE, NARRATIVE,
§ 1. The Traveller, or, a Profpe& of Society. Inferibed to the Rev. Mr. H. Goldsmith.
REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, flow,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wand'ring Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houfelefs ftranger fhuts the door :
Or where Campania's plain forfaken lies,
A weary waite expanding to the skies:
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to fee,
My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee:
Still to my brother turns, with ceafelefs pain,
And drags, at each remove, a length'ning chain.
Eternal bleffings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian faints attend;
Blefs'd be that fpot where cheerful guests retire,
To paufe from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Blefs'd that abode where want and pain repair,
And ev'ry ftranger finds a ready chair:
Blefs'd be thofe feafts, with fimple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jefts or pranks that never fail,
Or figh with pity at fome mournful tale;
Or prefs the bathful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good!
But me, not deftin'd fuch delights to share,
My prime of life in wand'ring spent, and care:
Impell'd, with fteps unceasing, to pursue
Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and fkies,
Allures from far, yet as I follow flies;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no fpot of all the world my own.
E'en now, where Alpine folitudes afcend,
I fit me down a penfive hour to spend;
And plac'd on high, above the ftorm's career,
Leak downward where an hundred realms appear;
Lakes, forefts, cities, plains, extending wide,
The pomp of kings, the fhepherds humbler pride.
When thus Creation's charms around combine,
Amidst the ftore, fhould thanklefs pride repine?
Say, fhould the philofophic mind difdain
That good which makes each humbler bofom vain?
Let fchool-taught pride diffemble all it can,
Thefe little things are great to little man;
And wifer he, whofe fympathetic mind
Exults in all the good of all mankind. [crown'd;
Ye glitt'ring towns, with wealth and splendour
Ye fields, where fummer fpreads profufion round;
Ye lakes, whofe veffels catch the bufy gale;
Ye bending fwains, that drefs the flow'ry vale;
For me your tributary ftores combine:
Creation's heir! the world, the world is mine!
As fome lone mifer, vifiting his store,
Bends at his treafure, counts, recounts it o'er;
Hoards after hoards his rifing raptures fill,
Yet ftill he fighs, for hoards are wanting ftill:
Thus to my breaft alternate paffions rife, [plies;
Pleas'd with cach good that Heaven to man fup-
Yet oft a figh prevails, and forrows fall,
To fee the hoard of human blifs fo fmall;
And oft I wifh, amidst the fcene, to find
Some spot to real happinefs confign'd,
Where my worn foul, each wand'ring hope at reft,
May gather blifs to fee my fellows bleft.
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But where to find that happieft fpot below, Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The fhudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happieft fpot his own; Extols the treasures of his ftormy feas, And his long nights of revelry and cafe : The naked negro, panting at the line, Boafts of his golden fands and palmy wine; Balks in the glare, or ftems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Such is the patriot's boaft, where'er we roain:
His first, beft country, ever is at home.
And yet, perhaps, it countries we compare,
And eftimate the bleffings which they fhare,
Though patriots flatter, ftill fhall wifdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind;
As different good, by art or nature given,
To different nations, makes their bleffings even.
Nature, a mother kind alike to all,
Still grants her blifs at labour's earnest call;
With food as well the peafant is fupplied
On Idra's cliffs as Arno's fhelvy fide;
And tho' the rocky-crefted fummits frown,
Thefe rocks by custom turn to beds of down.
From art more various are the bleffings fent;
Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content.
Yet thefe each other's pow'r fo ftrong conteft,
'That either feems deftructive of the reft. [fails;
Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment
And honour finks where commerce long prevails.
Hence ev'ry ftate, to one lov'd bleffing prone,
Conforms and models life to that alone.
Each to the fav'rite happiness attends,
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends;
Till carried to excefs in each domain,
This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain.
But let us try thefe truths with clofer eyes,
And trace them through the prospect as it lies :
Here for a while, my proper cares refign'd,
Here let me fit, in forrow for mankind;
Like yon neglected thrub at random caft,
That fhades the steep, and fighs at ev'ry blast.
Far to the right, where Apennine afcends,
Bright as the fummer, Italy extends;
Its uplands floping deck the mountain's fide,
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride;
While oft fome temple's mould'ring tops between
With venerable grandeur mark the fcene.
Could Nature's bounty fatisfy the breaft,
The fons of Italy were furely bleft.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rife, or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright fucceffion decks the varied year;
Whatever fweets falute the northern sky
With vernal lives, that bloffom but to die :
1 Thefe here difporting, own the kindred foil,
Nor afk luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While fea-born gales their gelid wings expand,
To winnow fragrance round the fmiling land.
But fmall the blifs that fenfe alone beftows,
And fenfual blifs is all the nation knows.
In florid beauty groves and fields appear,
Man feems the only growth that dwindles here.
Contrafted faults through all his manners reign:
Though poor, luxurious; though fubmiffive, vain;
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue;
And e'en in penance planning fins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed leaves behind;
For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date,
When commerce proudly flourish'd through the
At her command the palace learn'd to rife, [state:
Again the long-fall'n column fought the skies:
The canvas glow'd beyond e'en Nature warm :
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form;
Till, more unfteady than the fouthern gale,
Commerce on other thores difplay'd her fail;
While nought remain'd of all that riches gave,
But towns unmann'd, and lords without a flave:
And late the nation found, with fruitlefs skill,
Its former strength was but plethoric ill.
Yet ftill the lofs of wealth is here supplied
By arts, the fplendid wrecks of former pride;
From thefe the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind
An eafy compenfation feem to find.
Here may be feen, in bloodlefs pomp array'd,
The pafteboard triumph, and the cavalcade;
Proceflions form'd for piety and love,
A miftrefs or a faint in ev'ry grove.
By fports like thefe are all their cares beguil'd,
The fports of children fatisfy the child :
Each nobler aim, reprefs'd by long controul,
Now finks at laft, or feebly mans the foul;
While low delights, fucceeding faft behind,
In happier meannefs occupy the mind:
As in thofe domes where Cæfars once bore sway,
Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay,
There in the ruin, heedlefs of the dead,
The thelter-feeking peafant builds his thed;
And, wondering man could want the larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
My foul, turn from them-turn we to furvey Where rougher climes a nobler race difplay; Where the bleak Swifs their stormy manfion tread, And force a churlish foil for scanty bread: No product here the barren hills afford But man and steel, the foldier and his fword. No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter ling ring chills the lap of May; No zephyr fondly fues the mountain's breaft, But meteors glare, and ftormy glooms inveft.
Yet ftill c'en here Content can fpread a charm, Redrefs the clime, and all its rage difarm. Tho' poor the peafant's hut, his feast tho' fmall, He fees his little lot the lot of all; Secs no contiguous palace rear its head, To fhame the meannefs of his humble shed; No coftly lord the fumptuous banquet deal, To make him loath his vegetable meal; But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each with contracting, fits him to the foil. Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose, Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes; With patient angle trolls the finny deep, Or drives his vent'rous plough-fhare to the steep; Or fecks the den where fnow-tracks mark the way, And drags the ftruggling favage into day. At night returning, ev'ry labour sped, He fits him down the monarch of a fhed; Smiles by his cheerful are, and round furveys His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze; While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard, Difplays her cleanly platter on the board: And haply too foine pilgrim, thither led, With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
Thus ev'ry good his native wilds impart Imprints the patriot paffion on his heart;
And e'en thofe hills that round his manfion rife,
Enhance the blifs his fcanty fund fupplies.
Dear is that fhed to which his foul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the ftorms;
And as a child, when fearing founds moleft,
Clings clofe and clofer to the mother's breaft;
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.
Such are the charms to barren ftates ailign'd:
Their wants but few, their withes all confin'd.
Yet let them only thare the praifes due;
If few their wants, their pleafures are but few:
For ev'ry want that ftimulates the breaft
Becomes a fource of pleasure when redrest.
Whence from fuch lands each pleafing fcience flies,
That firft excites defire, and then fupplies;
Unknown to them, when fenfual pleafures cloy,
To fill the languid paufe with finer joy;
Unknown thofe pow'rs that raife the foul to flame,
Catch ev'ry nerve, and vibrate through the frame.
Their level life is but a mould'ring fire,
Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by ftrong defire;
Unfit for raptures; or, if raptures cheer
On fome high feftival of once a year,
In wild excefs the vulgar breaft takes fire,
Till buried in debauch the blifs expire.
But not their joys alone thus coarfely flow;
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low:
For, as refinement ftops, from fire to fon,
Unalter'd, unimprov'd, the manners run;
And love's and friendhip's finely-pointed dart
Falls blunted from each indurated heart.
Some fterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
May fit, like falcons cow'ring on the neft;
But all the gentler morals, fuch as play [way;
Thro' life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the
Thefe, far difpers'd, on timorous pinions fly,
To fport and flutter in a kinder sky.
To kinder fkies, where gentler manners reign,
I turn-and France difplays her bright domain.
Gay fprightly land of mirth and fecial cafe,
Pleas'd with thy felf, whom all the world can
How often have I led thy fportive choir, [pleafe,
With tunelefs pipe, befide the murm'ring Loire!
Where fhading elms along the margin grew,
And, frethen'd from the wave, the zephyr flew;
And haply, tho' my harsh touch falt ring ftill,
But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's fkill,
Yet would the village praife my wondrous pow'r,
And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour!
Alike all ages: dames of ancient days
Have led their children thro' the mirthful maze;
Aad the gay grandfire, fkill'd in geftic lore,
Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threefcore.
So bleft a life thefe thoughtlefs realms difplay,
Thus idly bufy rolls their world away :
They pleafe, are pleas'd, they give to get efteem;
Till, feeming bleft, they grow to what they feem.
But while this fofter art their blifs fupplies,
It gives their follies alfo room to rife ;
For praife too dearly lov'd, or warmly fought,
Enfeebles all internal ftrength of thought;
And the weak foul, within itself unbleft,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
Hence oftentation here, with tawdry art,
Pants for the vulgar praife which fools impart :
Here vanity affumes her pert grimace,
And trims her robes of frize with copper-lace;
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
To boaft one fplendid banquet once a year;
The mind ftill turns where thifting fashion draws,
Nor weighs the folid worth of felf-applaufe.
To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embofom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
Methinks her patient fons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land;
And, fedulous to ftop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward methinks, and diligently flow,
The firm connected bulwark feems to grow;
Spreads its long arms amidst the wat'ry roar,
Scoops out an empire, and ufurps the fhore;
While the pent ocean, rifing o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The flow canal, the yellow-bloffom'd vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding fail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation refcued from his reign.
Thus, while around the wave-fubjected foil
Impels the native to repeated toil,
Induftrious habits in each bofom reign,
And industry begets a love of gain.
Hence all the good from opulence that fprings,
With all thofe ills fuperfluous treasure brings,
Are here difplay'd. Their much-lov'd wealth im-
Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts; [parts
But, view them clofer, craft and fraud appear;
E'en liberty itself is barter'd here!
At gold's fuperior charms all freedom flies;
The needy fell it, and the rich man buys;
A land of tyrants, and a den of flaves,
Here wretches feek difhonourable graves,
And, calmly bent, to fervitude conform,
Dull as their lakes that flumber in the ftorm.
Heavens! how unlike their Belgic fires of old!
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold;
War in each breaft, and freedom on each brow;
How much unlike the fons of Britain now!
Fir'd at the found, my Genius fpreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western spring;
Where lawns extend that fcorn Arcadian pride,
And brighter streams than fam'd Hydafpes glide:
Theirs are thole arts that mind to mind endear,There all around the gentleft breezes ftray,
For honour forms the focial temper here.
Honour, that praife which real merit gains,
Or e'en imaginary worth obtains,
Here paffes current; paid from hand to hand,
It fhifts in fplendid traffic round the land:
From courts to camps, to cottages, it ftrays,
And all are taught an avarice of praife;
There gentle mufic melts on ev'ry spray;
Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd;
Extremes are only in the mafter's mind!
Stern o'er each bofom Reafon holds her state,
With daring aims irregularly great:
Pride in their port, deriance in their eye,
I fee the lords of humen-kind pass by;
Intent on high defigns, a thoughtful band,
By forms unfathion'd fresh from nature's hand;
Fierce in their native hardiness of foul,
True to imagin'd right, above controul;
While e'en the pealant boafts these rights to fcan,
And learns to venerate himself as man. [here,
Thine, Freedom, thine the bleflings pictur'd
Thine are thofe charms, that dazzle and endear;
Too bleft indeed were fuch without alloy,
But fofter'd e'en by Freedom ills annoy.
That independence Britons prize too high,
Keeps man from man, and breaks the focial tie;
The felf-dependent lordlings ftand alone;
All claims that bind and fwecten life unknown;
Here, by the bonds of Nature feebly held,
Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd.
Ferments arife, imprison'd factions roar,
Reprefs'd ambition fruggles round her thore;
Till, over-wrought, the general fyftem feels
Its motions frop, or phrenfy fire the wheels.
Nor this the worft. As Nature's tres decay,
As duty, love, and honour fail to sway,
Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law,
Still gather ftrength, and force unwilling awe.
Hence all obedience bows to thefe alone,
And talent finks, and merit weeps unknown;
Till time may came, when, ftripp'd of all her
charms,
The land of scholars, and the nurfe of arms,
Where noble ftems tranfmit the patriot flame,
Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrote for fame,
One fink of level avarice fhall lie,
And scholars, foldiers, kings, unhonour'd die.
Yet think not thus, when Freedom's ills I ftate,
I mean to flatter kings, or court the great:
Ye
powers of truth, that bid my foul afpire,
Far from my bofom drive the low defire!
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel
The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel;
Thou tranfitory flower, alike undone
By proud Contempt, or Favour's foft'ring fun,
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure,
1 only would reprefs them to fecure:
For juft experience tells, in ev'ry foil,
That thofe who think must govern those who toil;
And all that Freedom's higheft aims can reach,
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on cach.
Hence, fhould one order difproportion'd grow,
Its double weight muft rain all below.
O, then, how blind to all that truth requires,
Who think it freedom when a part afpires!
Calm is my foul, nor apt to rife in arms,
Except when faft-approaching danger warms :
But when contending chiefs blockade the throne,
Contracting regal pow'r to stretch their own;
When I behold a faclious band agree
Till, half a patriot, half a coward grown,
I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.
Yes, brother, curfe with me that baleful hour,
When firit ambition ftruck at regal pow'r;
And thus, polluting honour in its fource,
Gave wealth to fway the mind with double force.
Have we not feen, round Britain's peopled shore,
Her useful fons exchang'd for useless ore;
Seen all her triumphs but deftruction haste,
Like flaring tapers bright'ning as they wafte;
Seen Opulence, her grandeur to maintain,
Lead ftern Depopulation in her train,
And over fields, where fcatter'd hamlets refe,
In barren, folitary pomp repose?
Have we not feen, at Pleafure's lordly call,
The fmiling long-frequented village fall?
Beheld the duteous fon, the fire decay'd,
The modeft matron, and the blushing maid,
Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train,
To traverse climes beyond the western main ;
Where wild Ofwego fpreads her swamps around,
And Niagara ftuns with thund'ring found?
E'en now, perhaps, as there fome pilgrim ftrays
Thro' tangled forefts, and thro' dang rous ways;
Where beafts with man divided empire claim,
And the brown Indian marks with murd'rous aim;
There, while above the giddy tempest flies,
And all around diftrefsful yells arife,
The penfive exile, bending with his woe,
To ftop too fearful, and too faint to go,
Cafts a long look where England's glories fhine,
And bids his bofom fympathize with mine.
To call it freedom when themselves are free;
Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw,
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law;
The wealth of climes, where favage nations
Vain, very vain, my weary fearch to find
That blifs which only centres in the mind'
Why have I ftray'd from pleasure and repose,
To feck a good each government bestows?
In ev'ry government, though terrors reign,
Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws reftrain,
How fimall, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can caufe or cure!
Still to ourfelves in ev'ry place confign'd,
Our own felicity we make or find :
With fecret courfe, which no loud ftorms annoy,
Glides the fmooth current of domeftic joy.
The lifted ax, the agonizing wheel,
Luke's iron crown, and Damiens' bed of steel,
To men remote from pow'r but rarely known,
Leave reafon, faith, and confcience, all our own.
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Where fmiling fpring its earlieft vifit paid,
And parting fummer's ling'ring blooms delay'd;
Dear lovely bow'rs of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when ev'ry fport could please,
How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,
Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!
How often have I paus'd on ev'ry charm,
Pillag'd from flaves, to purchase flaves at home;The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,
Fear, pity, juice, indignation start,
Tear of referve, and bare my fwelling heart;
The never-failing brook, the bufy mill,
The decent church that topp'd the neighb'ring hill,
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