Or by necessity constrain'd, they live
Dependent upon man; those in his fields,
These at his crib, and some beneath his roof;
They prove too often at how dear a rate
He sells protection. Witness at his foot
The spaniel dying for some venial fault,
Under dissection of the knotted scourge;
Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells
Driven to the slaughter, goaded as he runs,
To madness; while the savage at his heels
Laughs at the sufferer's fury, spent
Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown.
He too is witness, noblest of the train

That wait on man, the flight performing horse :
With unsuspecting readiness he takes
His murderer on his back, and, push'd all day,
With bleeding sides and flanks that heave for
life,

To the far distant goal, arrives and dies.
So little mercy shows who needs so much!
Does law, so jealous in the cause of man,
Denounce no doom on the delinquent? None.
He lives, and o'er his brimming beaker boasts
(As if barbarity were high desert)
The inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise
Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose
The honors of his matchless horse his own.
But many a crime deem'd innocent on earth
Is register'd in heaven; and these no doubt
Have each their record, with a curse annex'd.
Man may dismiss compassion from his heart,
But God will never. When he charged the Jew
To assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise;
And when the bush-exploring boy that seized
The young, to let the parent bird go free;
Proved he not plainly that his meaner works
Are yet his care, and have an interest all,
All, in the universal Father's love?

On Noah, and in him on all mankind,
The charter was conferr'd, by which we hold
The flesh of animals in fee, and claim
O'er all we feed on power of life and death.
But read the instrument. and nark it well:
The oppression of a tyrannous control
Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield
Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin,
Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute!

The Governor of all, himself to all
So bountiful. in whose attentive ear
The unfledged raven and the lion's whelp
Plead not in vain for pity on the pangs
Of hunger unassuaged. has interposed
Not seldom, his avenging arm to smite
The injurious trampler upon Nature's law,
That claims forbearance even for a brute.
He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart;
And, prophet as he was. he might not strike
The blameless animal. without rebuke,
On which he rode. Her opportune offence
Saved him, or the unrelenting seer had died.
He sees that human equity is slack
To interfere, though in so just a cause;
And makes the task his own. Inspiring dumb
And helpless victims with a sense so keen
Of injury, with such knowledge of their strength,
And such sagacity to take revenge.
That oft the beast has seem'd to judge the man.
An ancient, not a legendary tale,

By one of sound intelligence rehearsed,
(If such who plead for Providence may seem
In modern eyes.) shall make the doctrine clear.
Where England, stretch'd towards the setting

sun,

Narrow and long, o'erlooks the western wave,
Dwelt young Misagathus; a scorner he
Of God and goodness atheist in ostent,
Vicious in act in temper savage-fierce.
He journey'd; and his chance was as he went
To join a traveller, of far different note,
Evander, famed for piety, for years
Deserving honor, but for wisdom more.
Fame had not left the venere ble man
A stranger to the manners of the youth,
Whose face too was familiar to his view,
Their way was on the margin of the land,
O'er the green summit of the rocks, whose base
Beats back the roaring surge, scarce heard s
high.

The charity that warm'd his heart was moved
At sight of the man monster. With a smile
Gentle, and affable, and full of grace,

As fearful of offending whom he wish'd
Much to persuade he plied his ear with truths
Not harshly thunder'd forth, or rudely press'd,
But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet.
"And dost thou dream," the impenetrable man
Exclaimed, that me the lullabies of age,
And fantasies of dotards such as thou,
Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in me?
Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave
Need no such aids as superstition lends,
To steel their hearts against the dread of death.'
He spoke, and to the precipice at hand
Push'd with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks
And the blood thrills and curdles at the though
Of such a gulf as he design'd his grave.
But though the felon on his back could dare
The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed
Declined the death, and wheeling swiftly round,
Or e'er his hoof had press'd the crumbling verge
Baffled his rider. saved against his will.
The frenzy of the brain may be redress'd
By medicine well applied. but without grace
The heart's insanity admits no cure.
Enraged the more by what might have reform'd
His horrible intent again he sought
Destruction, with a zeal to be destroy'd,
With sounding whip, and rowels dyed in blood.
But still in vain. The Providence that meant
A longer date to the far nobler beast,
Spared yet again the ignobler for his sake.
And now his prowess proved, and his sincere
Incurable obduracy evinced,
[earn'd
His rage grew cool; and pleased perhaps to have
So cheaply the renown of that attempt,
With looks of some complacence he resumed
His road, deriding much the blank amaze
Of good Evander still where he was left
Fix'd motionless, and petrified with dread.
So on they fared. Discourse on other themes
Ensuing seem'd to obliterate the past;
And tamer far for so much fury shown,
(As is the course of rash and fiery men,)
'The rude companion smiled, as if transform'd.
But 'twas a transient calm. A storm was near
An unsuspected storm. His hour was come.
The impious challenger of power divine [wrath
Was now to learn that Heaven, though slow te
Is never with impunity defed.

His horse, as he had caught his master's mood,
Snorting, and starting into sudden rage,
Unbidden, and not now to be controll❜d,
Rush'd to the cliff, and, having reach'd it, stood
At once the shock unseated him: he flew
Sheer o'er the craggy barrier; and, immersed

Deep in the flood, found. when he sought it not,
The death he had deserved, and died alone.
So God wrought double justice; made the fool
The victim of his own tremendous choice,
And taught a brute the way to safe revenge.
I would not enter on my list of friends [sense,
(Though graced with polish'd manners and fine
Yet wanting sensibility) the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail
That crawls at evening in the public path:
But he that has humanity, forewarn'd,
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight.
And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes,
A visitor unwelcome, into scenes
Sacred to neatness, and repose, the alcove,
The chamber, or refectory, may die:
A necessary act incurs no blame.
Not so when, held within their proper bounds,
And guiltless of offence, they range the air,
Or take their pastime in the spacious field:
There they are privileged; and he that hunts
Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong,
Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm,
Who, when she form'd, design'd them an abode.
The sum is this. If man's convenience, health,
Or safety interfere, his righes and claims
Are paramount. and must extinguish theirs.
Else they are all-the meanest things that are,
As free to live, and to enjoy that life,
As God was free to form them at the first,
Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Ye therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons
To love it too. The spring-time of our years
Is soon dishonor'd and defiled in most,
By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand
To check them. But, alas! none sooner shoots,
If unrestrain'd into luxuriant growth,
Than cruelty. most devilish of them all.
Mercy to him that shows it is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act,
By which Heaven moves in pardoning guilty man;
And he that shows none, being ripe in years,
And conscious of the outrage he commits,
Shall seek it. and not find it in his turn.

Distinguish'd much by reason, and still more By our capacity of grace divine, From creatures that exist but for our sake, Which. having served us, perish, we are held Accountable; and Ged, some future day, Will reckon with us roundly for the abuse Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust. Superior as we are, they yet depend Not more on human help than we on theirs. Their strength or speed. or vigilance, were given In aid of our defects. In some are found Such teachable and apprehensive parts. That man's attainments in his own ncerns, Match'd with the expertness of th brutes in theirs,

Are ofttimes vanquish'd and thrown far behind.
Some show that nice sagacity of smell,
And read with such discernment, in the port
And figure of the man, his secret aim,
That oft we owe our safety to a skill
We could not teach and must despair to learn
But learn we might if not too proud to stoop
To quadruped instructors, many a good
And useful quality and virtue too,
Rarely exemplified among ourselves-
Attachment never to be wean'd or changed

By any change of fortune; proof alike
Against unkindness, absence, and neglect;
Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat
Can move or warp; and gratitude for small,
And trivial favors, lasting as the life
And glistening even in the dying eye.

Man praises man. Desert in arts or arms
Wins public honor; and ten thousand sit
Patiently present at a sacred song,
Commemoration-mad; content to hear
(O wonderful effect of music's power!)
Messiah's eulogy for Handel's sake.
But less. methinks, than sacrilege might serve→
(For was it less, what heathen would have dare
To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath,
And hang it up in honor of a man?)
Much less might serve, when all that we design
It but to gratify an itching ear,
And give the day to a musician's praise.
Remember Handel? Who, that was not born
Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets,
Or can, the more than Homer of his age?
Yes-we remember him; and while we praise
A talent so divine. remember too
That His most holy book, from whom it came,
Was never meant, was never used before,
To buckram out the memory of a man.
But besh!—the muse perhaps is too severe;
And, with a gravity beyond the size
And incasure of the offence rebukes a deed'
Les impious than absurd, and owing more
To want of judgment than to wrong design.
So in the chapel of old Ely House, [third,
When wandering Charles, who meant to be the
Had fled from William, and the news was fresi.,
The simple clerk. but loyal, did announce,
And eke did rear right merrily, two staves,
Sung to the praise and glory of King George!
-Man praises man; and Garrick's memory next,
When time hath somewhat mel:ow'd it, and made
The idol of our worship while he lived
The god of our idolatry once more,
Shall have its altar; and the world shall go
In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine.
The theatre, too small, shall suffocate

Its squeezed contents and more then it admits
Shell sigh at their exclusion, and return
Ungratified: for there some noble lord [bunch,
Shall stuff his shoulders with king Richard's
Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak, [stare,
And strut, and storm, and straddle, stamp, and
To show the world how Garrick did not act-
For Garrick was a worshipper himself;
He drew the liturgy, and framed the rites
And solemn ceremonial of the day.

And call'd the world to worship on the banks
Of Avon, famed in song. Ah, pleasant proof
That piety had still in human hearts
Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct.
The mulberry-tree was hung with blooming
wreaths;

The mulberry-tree stood centre of the dance;
The mulberry-tree was hymn'd with dulcet airs;
And from his touchwood trunk the mulberry-tree
Supplied such relics as devotion holds
Still sacred. and preserves with pious care.
So 'twas a hallow'd time: decorum reign'd,
And mirth without offence. No few return'd,
Doubtless much edified, and all refresh'd.
-Man praises man. The rabble all alive,
From tippling benches, cellars, stalls. and styes,
Swarm in the streets. The statesman of the day

A pomrous and slev-ming pagean., comes. Some shou' hin, and scme hang upon his car, To gaze in his eyes, and bless him. Maidens

2

wave

Their kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy;
While others, not so satisfied, unhorse
The vi e equipage, and turning loose
His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve.
Why? what has charm'd them? Hath he saved
the state?

No. Doth he purpose its salvation? No.
Enchanting novelty, that moon at full.
Tha' finds out every crevice of the head
That is not sound and perfect, hath in theirs
Wrought this disturbance. But the wane is near
And his own cattle must suffice him soon.
Thus idly do we waste the breath of praise,
And dedicate a tribute in its use

And just direction sacred, to a thing
Doom'd to the dust, or lodged already there.
Encomium in old time was poet's work ;
But poets, having lavishly long since
Exhausted all materials of the art,
The task now falls into the public hand;
And I, contented with an humble theme,
Have pour'd my stream of panegyric down
The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds
Among her lovely works with a secure
And unambitious course, reflecting clear,
If not the virtues, yet the worth of brutes.
And I am recompensed, and deem the toils
Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine
May stand between an animal and woe,
And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge.

The groans of Nature in this nether world,
Which heaven has heard for ages, have an end,
Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung,
Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp,
The time of rest, the promised sabbath, comes.
Six thousand years of sorrow have well nigh
Fulfill'd their tardy and disastrous course
Over a sinful world; and what remains
Of this tempestuous state of human things
Is merely as the working of a sea
Before a calm, that rocks itself to rest ;
For He, whose car the winds are, and the
clouds

The dust that waits upon his sultry march,
When sin hath moved him, and his wrath is hot,
Shall visit earth in inercy; shall descend
Propitious in his chariot paved with love;
And what his storms have blasted and defaced
For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair.

Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet Not to be wrong'd by a mere mortal touch: Nor can the wonders it records be sung To meaner music, and not suffer loss. But when a poet, or when one like me, Happy to rove among poetic flowers, Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair, Such is the impulse and the spur he feels, To give it praise proportion'd to its worth, That not to attempt it, arduous as he deems The labor, were a task more arduous still.

Or fertile only in its own disgrace,
Exults to see its thistly curse repeal'd.
The various seasons woven into one,
And that one season an eternal spring,
The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence,
For there is none to covet, all are full.
The lion, and the libbard, and the bear
Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon
Together, or all gambol in the shade

Of the same grove, and drink one common stream
Antipathies are none. No foe to man
Lurks in the serpent now: the mother sees,
And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand
Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm,
To stroke his azure neck, or to receive
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.
All creatures worship man, and all mankind
One Lord, one Father. Error has no place;
That creeping pestilence is driven away;
The breath of heaven has chased it. In the
heart

No passion touches a discordant string, But all is harmony and love. Disease Is not the pure uncontaminate blood Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. One song employs all nations and all cry, "Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us!" The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. Behold the measure of the promise fill'd; See Salem built, the labor of a God; Bright as a sun, the sacred city shines; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light; the glory of all lands Flows into her; unbounded is her joy, And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there ;* The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, And Saba's spicy groves, pay tribute there. Praise is in all her gates: upon her walls, And in her streets, and in her spacious courts, Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there Kneels with the native of the farthest west; And Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand, And worships. Her report has travell'd forth Into all lands. From every clime they come To see thy beauty, and to share thy joys, O Sion! an assembly such as earth

Saw never, such as Heaven stoops down to see. Thus heavenward all things tend. For all were

once

Perfect, and all must be at length restored.
So God has greatly purposed; who would else
In his dishonor'd works himself endure
Dishonor, and be wrong'd without redress.
Haste, then, and wheel away a shatter'd world,
Ye slow-revolving seasons! we would see
(A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet)
A world that does not dread and hate his law
And suffer for its crime; would learn how fair
The creature is that God pronounces good,
How pleasant in itself what pleases him.
Here every drop of honey hides a sting;
Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow.

ers;

And e'en the joy that haply some poor heart
Derives from heaven, pure as the fountain is,
Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint

From touch of human lips, at best impure.
O for a world in principle as chaste
As this is gross and selfish' over which
Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway,
That govern all things here, shouldering aside
The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her
To seek a refuge from the tongue of Strife
In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men:
Where Violence shall never lift the sword,
Nor Cunning justify the proud man's wrong,
Leaving the poor no remedy but tears:
Where he, that fill an office, shall esteem
The occasion it presents of doing good [speak
More than the perquisite: where Law shall
Seldom, and never but as Wisdom prompts
And Equity; not jealous more to guard
A worthless form, than to decide aright:-
Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse,
Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace
With lean performance ape the work of Love:

Come then, and, added to thy many crowns,
Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth,
Thou who alone art worthy! It was thine
By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth;
And thou hast made it thine by purchase since,
And overpaid its value with thy blood. [hearts
Thy saints proclaim thee king; and in their
Thy title is engraven with a pen
Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love.
Thy saints proclaim thee king; and thy delay
Gives courage to their foes, who, could they see
The dawn of thy last advent. long desired,
Would creep into the bowels of the hills,
And flee for safety to the falling rocks.
The very spirit of the world is tirel
Of its own taunting question, a k so long,
"Where is the promise of your Lord's approach ?"
The infidel has shot bi: bolts away,
Till, his exhausted over yielding none;
He gleans the blunted shafts that have recoil'd,
And aims them at the shield of Truth again. ·
The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hands,
That hides divinity from mortal eyes;
And all the mysteries to faith proposed,
Insulted and traduced, are cast aside,

fare

As useless, to the moles and to the bats. [praised;
They now are deem'd the faithful, and are
Who, constant only in rejecting thee,
Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal.
And quit their office for their error's sake.
Blind, and in love with darkness! yet e'en these
Worthy, compared with sycophants, who kneel
Thy name adoring, and then preach thee man!
So fares thy church. But how thy church may
[preach,
The world takes little thought. Who will may
And what they will. All pastors are alike
To wandering sheep, resolved to follow none.
Two gods divile them all-Pleasure and Gain:
For these they live, they sacrifice to these,
And in their service age perpetual war [hearts,
With Conscience and with thee. Lust in their
And mischief in their hands. they roam the earth
To prey upon each other: stubborn. fierce,
High-minded, foaning out their own disgrace.
Thy prophets speak of such; and noting down
The features of the last degenerate times,
Exhibit every lineament of these.

Come then. and, added to thy many crowns,
Receive yet one, as radiant as the p
Die to thy last and most effectual work.
Thy word fulfill'd, the conquest of a world!

He is the happy man whose life e'en now Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state, Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose, Would make his fate his choice; whom peace, the fruit

Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith,
Prepare for happiness; bespeak him one
Content indeed to sojourn while he must
Below the skies, but having there his home.
The world o'erlooks him in her busy search
Of objects, more illustrious in her view :
Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world.
And, occupied as earnestly as she,
She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them

not;

He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain.
He cannot skim the ground like summer birds
Pursuing gilded flies; and such he deems
Her honors, her emoluments, her joys.
Therefore in Contemplation is his bliss,
Whose power is such, that whom she lifts from

earth

The laurels that a Cæsar reaps are weeds. Perhaps the self-approving haughty world, That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks..

Must drop indeed the hope of public praise;
But he may boast what few that win it can,
That. if his country stand not by his skill,
At least his follies have not wrought her fall.
Polite Refinement offers him in vain
Her golden tube through which a sensual world
Draws gross impurity, and likes it well,
The neat conveyance hiding all the offence.
Not that he peevishly rejects a mode
Because that world adopts it. If it bear
The stamp and clear impression of good sense,
And be not costly more than of true worth,
He puts it on, and for decorum sake,
Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she.
She judges of refinement by the eye,
He by the test of conscience, and a heart
Not soon deceived; aware that what is base
No polish can make sterling; and that vice,
Though well perfumed and elegantly dress'd,
Like an unburied carcass trick'd with flowers
Is but a garnish'd nuisance, fitter far
For cleanly riddance than for fair attire.
So life glides smoothly and by stealth away,
More golden than that age of fabled gold
Renown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care
Or stain'd with guilt, beneficent, approved
Of Col and man, and peaceful in its end.

DEAR JOSEPH-five-and-twenty years ago-
Aias, how time escape'tis even so-
With frequent intercourse, and always sweet,
And always friendly, we were wont to cheat
A tedious hour-and now we never meet!
As some grave gentleman in Terence says,
"Twas therefore much the same in ancient de vs,)
Good lack, we know not what to-morrow brings-
Strange fluctuation of all human things!
True. Changes will be fall. and friends may part,
But distance only cannot change the heart:
And were I call'd to prove the assertion true,
One proof should serve-a reference to you.

Whence comes it then that in the wane of life, Though nothing have occurr'd to kindle strife, We find the friends we fancied we had won, Though numerous once, reduced to few or none? Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch?

So glide my life away! and so. at last,
My share of duties decently fulfill'd,
May some disease, not tardy to perform
Its destined office, yet with gentle stroke,
Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat.
Beneath the turf that I have often trod.
It shall not grieve me then that once, when call'd
To dress n Sofa with the flowers of verse,
I play'd awhile, obedient to the fair,
With that light task; but soon, to please her
more,

No; gold they seem'd, but they were never such.
Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe,
Swinging the parlor door upon its hinge,
Dreading a negative, and overawed
Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad.
Go, fellow-whither-turning short about--
Nay-stay at home-you're always going out.
"Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end.-
For what-An please you, sir. to see a friend.
A friend! Horatio cried. and seem'd to start-
Yea marry shalt thou, and with all my heart.
And fetch my cloak; for though the night be raw,
I'll see him too-the first I ever saw.

Whom flowers alone I knew would little please,
Let fall the unfinish'd wrath, and roved fo
fruit:
[true,
Roved far, and gather'd much: some harsh, 'tis
Pick'd from the thorns and briars of reproof,
But wholesome, well-digested; grateful some
To palates that can taste immortal truth;
Insipid else, and sure to be despised.
But all is in His hand, whose praise I seek.
In vain the poet sings, and the world hears,
If he regard not, though divine the theme.
"Tis not in artful measures, in the chime
And idle tinckling of a minstrel's lyre,
To charm His ear, whose eye is on the heart;
Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain,
Whose approbation-prosper even mine.

1 knew the man, and knew his nature mild, And was his playti ing often when a child; But somewhat at tha ment pinch'd him close, Else he was seldoin bitter or morose. Perhaps his confidence, just then betray'd, [made, His grief might prompt him with the speech he Perhaps 'twas mere good humor gave it birth, The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth, Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind, Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.

But not to moralize too much, and strain To prove an evil of which all complain; (I hate long arguments verbosely spun ;) One story more, dear Hill, and I have done. Once on a time an emperor, a wise man, No matter where, in China or Japan, Decreed that whosoever should offend Against the well-known duties of a friend, Convicted once, should ever after wear But half a coat, and show his bosom bare. The punishment importing this, no doubt, That all was naught within, and all found out.

Oh, happy Britain! we have not to fear Such hard and arbitrary measure here; Else, could a law like that which I relate Once have the sanction of our triple state, Some few, that I have known in days of old, Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow Might traverse England safely to and fro, An honest man, close-button'd to the chin, Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.