Warm at his bofom, from the fprings of life
Chafing oppreffive damps and languid pain!
Or fhall I mention, where cœleftial Truth
Her awful light difclofes, to bestow
A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame ?
For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100
More welcome touch his understanding's eye,
Than all the blandishments of found his ear,
Than all of tafte his tongue. Nor ever yet
The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctur'd hues
To me have fhone so pleasing, as when first
The hand of fcience pointed out the path
In which the fun-beams gleaming from the west
Fall on the watery cloud, whofe darkfome veil
Involves the orient; and that trickling fhower
Piercing through every cryftalline convex
Of clustering dew-drops to their flight oppos'd,
Recoil at length where concave all behind
The internal furface of each glaffy orb
Repells their forward paffage into air;
That thence direct they feek the radiant goal
From which their courfe began; and, as they strike
In different lines the gazer's obvious eye,
Affume a different luftre, through the brede
Of colours changing from the fplendid rofe
To the pale violet's dejected hue.
Or fhall we touch that kind accefs of joy,
That fprings to each fair object, while we trace
Through all its fabric, wifdom's artful aim
Difpofing every part, and gaining ftill
By means proportion'd her benignant end?
Speak, ye, the pure delight, whofe favour'd steps
The lamp of-fcience through the jealous maze
Of nature guides, when haply you reveal
Her fecret honours: whether in the sky,
The beauteous laws of light, the central
That wheel the penfile planets round the year;
Whether in wonders of the rowling deep,
Or the rich fruits of all-fuftaining earth,
Or fine-adjusted fprings of life and fenfe,
Ye fcan the counfels of their author's hand.
What, when to raife the meditated scene,
The flame of paflion, through the ftruggling foul
Deep-kindled, fhows acrofs that fudden blaze
The object of its rapture, vaft of fize,
With fiercer colours and a night of fhade?
What? like a ftorm from their capacious bed
The founding feas o'erwhelming, when the might
Of thefe eruptions, working from the depth
Of man's strong apprehenfion, shakes his frame
Even to the bafe; from every naked fenfe
Of pain or pleafure diffipating all
Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil
Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times
To hide the feeling heart? Then nature speaks
Her genuine language, and the words of men,
Big with the very motion of their fouls,
Declare with what accumulated force,
The impetuous nerve of paffion urges on
The native weight and energy of things.
Yet more: her honours where nor beauty claims, 155 Nor fhews of good the thirty fenfe allure,
From paffion's power alone our nature holds
Effential pleasure. Paffion's fierce illapfe
Rouzes the mind's whole fabric; with supplies
Of daily impulfe keeps the elaftic powers
Intenfely poiz`d, and polishes anew
By that collision all the fine machine:
Elfe ruft would rife, and foulnefs, by degrees
Incumbering, choak at last what heaven defign'd
For ceafelefs motion and a round of toil.
-But fay, does every paffion thus to man
Adminifter delight? That name indeed
Becomes the rofy breath of love; becomes
The radiant fimiles of joy, the applauding hand
Of admiration: but the bitter fhower
That forrow fheds upon a brother's grave,
But the dumb palfy of nocturnal fear,
Or thofe confuming fires that gnaw the heart
Of panting indignation, find we there
To move delight ?-Then liften while my tongue 175
The unalter'd will of heaven with faithful awe
Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach
My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd
Within his learned mind whate'er the fchools
Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice,
O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws
Which govern and fupport this mighty frame
Of universal being. Oft the hours
From morn to eve have ftolen unmark'd away,
While mute attention hung upon his lips,
As thus the fage his awful tale began.
'Twas in the windings of an ancient wood,
When spotless youth with folitude resigns
To sweet philofophy the ftudious day,
What time pale autumn fhades the silent eve,
Mufing I rov'd. Of good and evil much,
And much of mortal man my thought revolv'd;
When farting full on Fancy's gufhing eye
The mournful image of Parthenia's fate,
That hour, O long belov'd and long deplor'd!
When blooming youth, nor gentleft wisdom's arts,
Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow,
Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears
Avail'd to fnatch thee from the cruel grave;
Thy agonizing looks, thy laft farewel
Struck to the inmoft feeling of
As with the hand of death. At once the shade
More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds
With hoarfer murmuring shook the branches. Dark
As midnight ftorms, the fcene of human things 205
Appear'd before me; defarts, burning fands,
Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen fouth,
And defolation blasting all the west
With rapine and with murder: tyrant power
Here fits enthron'd with blood; the baleful charms 210
Of fuperftition there infect the skies,
And turn the fun to horror. Gracious heaven!
What is the life of man? Or cannot thefe,
Not these portents thy awful will fuffice?
That, propagated thus beyond their scope,
They rife to act their cruelties anew
In my afflicted bofom, thus decreed
The univerfal fensitive of pain,
The wretched heirs of evils not its own!
Thus I impatient; when, at once effus'd, A flashing torrent of cœlestial day
Burft through the fhadowy void. With flow defcent
A purple cloud came floating through the sky,
And pois'd at length within the circling trees,
Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide
Its lucid orb, a more than human form
Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head,
And inftant thunder fhook the confcious grove.
Then melted into air the liquid cloud,
Then all the fhining vifion food reveal'd.
A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound,
And o'er his fhoulder, mantling to his knee,
Flow'd the tranfparent robe, around his waist
Collected with a radiant zone of gold
Æthereal: there in myftic figns engrav'd,
I read his office high and facred name,
Genius of human kind. Appall'd I gaz'd
The godlike prefence; for athwart his brow
Difpleasure, temper'd with a mild concern,
Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words
Like diftant thunders broke the murmuring air.
Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth!
And impotent thy tongue. Is thy fhort span
Capacious of this univerfal frame?
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