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And those love - darling eyes must roll no more.
Thus, if eternal Justice rules the ball,
Thus shall your wives and thus your children fall
On all the line a sudden vengeance waits,
And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates :
There passengers shall stand, and, poining, say,
(While the long fun'rals blacken all the way)
Lo! these were they whose souls the Furies steeld:
And curs’d with bearts unknowing how to yield.
Thus unlamented pass the proud away,
The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!
So perish all whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow
For others' good, or melt at others' woe.
What can atone, (oh, ever-injur'd shade!)
Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid ?
No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear,
Pleas’d thy pale glost, or grac'd thy mournful bier.
By foreign" hands thy dying eyes were clos'd,
By foreign bands thy decent limnlıs compos'd;
By foreign hands thy humble grave adornd,
By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd!
What though no friends in sable weeds appear,
Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,
And bear about the mockery of woe
To midnight dances and the public show?
What though no weeping loves thy ashes grace,
Nor polish'd marble emulare thy face?
What though no sacred earth allow thee room,
Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy comb?
Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest,
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestrow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow;
While angels with their silver wings o'ershade
The ground, now sacred by thy relics made.
So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,
What once hal beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.
How lov’d, how lionour'd once, avails thee not,
To whom related, or by whom begot:
A heap of dust alone remains of thee;
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Poets themselves moist fall, like those they sung.
Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue:
Ev’n he, whose soul now melis in mournful lays,
Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays;
Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,
And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart;
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er ,
The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!
4) FROM THE ESSAY ON MAN *).
Say first, of God above, or Man below,
What can we reason, but from what we know?
Of Man, what see we but his station here,
From which to reason, or to which refer?
Through worlds unnumber'd, though the God be known,
'Tis ours to trace him only in our own,
He, who through vast immensity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compose one universe,
Observe how system into system runs,
What other planets circle other suns,
What vary'd being peoples every star,
May tell, why heaven has inade us as we are.
But of this frame the bearings, and the lies,
The strong connections, nice dependencies,
Gradations just, lias thy pervading soul
Look'd through? or can a part contain the whole?
Is the great chain, that draws all to agree,
And drawii supporis, upheld by God, or thee?
Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldst thou find,
Why form'd so weak, so litte, and so blind?
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,
Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less ?
Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade?
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's satellites are less iban Jove?
Of systems possible, if 'tis confest,
That Wisdom infinite must form the best,
Where all must fall or 106 coherent be,
'*) Epistle I. ř. 17 - 130.
'And all that rises, rise in due degree;
Then, in the scale of reasoning life, 'tis plain,
There must be, somewhere, such a rank as Man;
And all the question (wrangle e'er so long)
Is only this, if God has plac'd him wrong?
Respecting Man, whatever wrong we call,
May, must be right, as relative to all.
In human works, though labour'd on with pain,
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain;
In God's, one single can its eud produce;
Yet serves to second too some other use.
So Man, who here seems principal alone,
Perhaps acts second to some sphere uukuown,
Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal;
'T'is but a part we see, and not a whole.
When the proud steed shall know why man restrains
His fiery.course, or drives him o'er the plains;
When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod,
Is now a victim, and now Egypt's God:
Then shall Man's pride and dulness comprehend
His actions, passions', being's, use and end;
Why doing, suffring, check'd, impelled; and why
This hour a slave, the next a deiry.
Then say not, man's imperfect, heaven in fault;
Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought:
His knowledge measur'd to bis state and place;
His time a moment, and a point his space.
If to be perfect in a certain sphere,
What matter, soon or late, or here or there?
The blest to-day is as completely so,
As who began a thousand years ago.
Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate,
all but the page prescrib'd, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men wliat spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb, thy riot dooms to bleed to- - day,
Had he thy reason; would he skip and play?
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food,
And licks the hand just rais’d to shed his blood.
Oh, blindness to the future! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by leaven:
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A bero perish, or a sparrow fall,
Atoms or systems into ruin hurlid,
And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
Hape humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher death; and God adore.
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home, ,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul proud science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv'n,
Behind ihe cloud-top will, an humbler heaven;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd,
Some happies island in the watery waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold,
To be, contents bis patural desire,
He asks no angel's wing, do Seraph's fire;
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense,
Weigh thy opinion against providence;
Call imperfection what thou fancy'st such,
Say, here be gives too little, there too much:
ali creatures for thy sport or gust,
Yet cry, if Man's unhappy, God's unjust;
If Man alone ingross not heaven's high care,
Alone made perfect here, immortal there:
Snatch from his hand the balance and the rod,
Re-judge his justice, be the god of God.
In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes,
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
Aspiring to be angels, Men rebel:
And who but wishes to invert the laws
Of Order, sins against th' eternal cause.
Father of all! in every age,
By şaint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. Thou
great first cause, least understood;
Who all my sense-conlin'd To know but this, that thou art good,
And that myself am blind; Yet gave me,
in this dark estate, To see the good from ill; And, binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than hell to shun,
That, more than heaven pursue.
What blessings thy free bounty gives,
Let me not cast away;
For God is paid when man receives,
T"enjoy is to obey.
Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound, Or think thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round:
Let not this weak, unknowing band
Presume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land, -
On each I judge thy foe.
If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay:
If I am wrong, on,
heart To find that better way!
Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,