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196 ON THE DEATH OF HIS MOTHER.
And in the dread dominion of the night
Shines out again the sadly pleasing sight.
Triumphant virtue all around her darts,
And more than volumes every look imparts
Looks, soft, yet awful, melting, yet serene,
Where both the mother and the saint are seen.
But ah! that night--that torturing night remains ;
May darkness dye it with the deepest stains,
May joy on it forsake her rosy bow’rs,
And screaming sorrow blast its baleful hours,
When on the margin of the briny flood ?
Chill'd with a sad presaging damp I stood,
Took the last look, ne'er to behold her more,
And mix'd our murmurs with the wavy roar,
Heard the last words fall from her pious tongue,
Then, wild into the bulging vessel flung,
Which soon, too soon convey'd me from her sight
Dearer than life, and liberty and light!
Why was I then ye powers, reserv'd for this ?
Nor sunk that moment in the vast abyss ?
Devour'd at once by the relentless wave,
And whelm'd for ever in a wat’ry grave?-
Down, ye wild wishes of unruly woe!
I see her with immortal beauty glow,
The early wrinkle, care-contracted, gone,
Her tears all wipe'd, and all her sorrows flown;
The' exalted voice of Heav'n I hear her breathe,
To sooth her soul in agonies of death.
I see her through the mansions blest above,
And now she meets her dear expecting Love.
Heart-cheering sight! but yet, alas ! o'erspread
By the damp gloom of Grief's uncheerful shade.
? On the shore of Leitb, when he embarked for London,
Come then of reason the reflecting hour,
And let me trust the kind o'er-ruling POWER,
Who from the right commands the shining day,
The poor man's portion, and the orphan's stay!
RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT WALPOLE.
SHALL the great soul of Newton quit this earth,
To mingle with his stárs; and every Muse,
Astonish'd into silence, shun the weight
Of honours due to his illustrious name?
But what can man?--Ev'n now the sons of light,
In strains high-warbled to seraphic lyre,
Hail his arrival on the coast of bliss.
Yet am not I deterr'd, though high the theme,
And sung to harps of angels, for with you,
Ethereal flames ! ambitious, I aspire
In Nature's general symphony to join.
And what new wonders can ye show your guest!
Who, while on this dim spot, where mortals toil
Clouded in dust, from Motion's simple laws,
Could trace the secret hand of Providence,
Wide-working through this universal frame.
Have ye not listen'd while he bound the Suns And Planets, to their spheres! the, unequal task Of human-kind till then. Oft had they rolld O’er erring man the year, and oft disgrac'd
The pride of schools, before their course was known
Full in its causes and effects to him,
All-piercing sage! Who sat not down and dream'd
Romantic schemes, defended by the din
Of specious words, and tyranny of names;
But, bidding his amazing mind attend,
And with heroic Patience years on years
Deep-searching, saw at last the system dawn;
And shine, of all his race, on him alone. (strong!
What were his raptures then! how pure! how
And what the triumphs of old Greece and Rome,
By his diminish'd, but the pride of boys
In some small fray victorious ! when instead
Of shatter'd parcels of this earth usurp'd
By violence unmanly, and sore deeds
Of cruelty and blood, Nature herself
Stood all subdued by him, and open laid
Her every latent glory to his view.
All intellectual eye, our solar round First gazing through, he by the blended power Of Gravitation and Projection saw The whole in silent harmony revolve. From unassisted vision hid, the moons To cheer remoter planets numerous form’d, By him in all their mingled tracts were seen. He also fix'd our wandering Queen of Night, Whether she wanes into a scanty orb, Or, waxing broad, with her pale shadowy light, In a soft deluge overflows the sky. Her every motion clear-discerning, He Adjusted to the mutual Main, and taught Why now the mighty mass of water swells Resistless, heaving on the broken rocks, And the full river turning: till again
The tide revertive, unattracted, leaves
A yellow waste of idle sands behind.
Then breaking hence, he took his ardent flight
Through the blue infinite; and every star,
Which the clear concave of a winter's night
Pours on the eye, or astronomic tube,
Far-stretching, snatches from the dark abyss ;
Or such as farther in successive skies
To fancy shine alone, at his approach
Blaz'd into suns, the living centre each
Of an harmonious system: all combin'd,
And rul'd unerring by that single power,
Which draws the stone projected to the ground.
O unprofuse magnificence divine ! O wisdom truly perfect! thus to call From a few causes such a scheme of things, Effects so various, beautiful, and great, An universe complete! And O belov'd Of Heaven! whose well-purg'd penetrative eye The mystic veil transpiercing, inly scann'd The rising, moving, wide-establish'd frame.
He, first of men, with awful wing pursu'd The Comet through the long elliptic curve, As round innumerous worlds he wound his way; Till, to the forehead of our evening sky Return'd, the blazing wonder glares anew, And o'er the trembling nations shakes dismay.
The heavens are all his own; from the wild rule Of whirling Vortices, and circling Spheres, To their first great simplicity restor'd. The schools astonish'd stood; but found it yain To combat still with demonstration strong, And, unawaken'd, dream beneath the blaze Of truth. At once their pleasing visions fled,
With the gay shadows of the morning mix’d,
When Newton rose, our philosophic sun.
The ærial flow of Sound was known to him,
From whence it first in wavy circles breaks,
Till the touch'd organ takes the message in.
Nor could the darting beam of speed immense,
Escape his swift pursuit, and measuring eye.
Even Light itself, which every thing displays,
Shone undiscover'd, till his brighter mind
Untwisted all the shining robe of day;
And, from the whitening undistinguish'd blaze,
Collecting every ray into his kind,
To the charm’d eye educ'd the gorgeous train
Of parent-colours. First the flaming Red
Sprung vivid forth; the tawny Orange next;
And next delicious Yellow; by whose side
Fell the kind beams of all-refreshing Green.
Then the pure Blue, that swells autumnal skies,
Ethereal play'd; and then, of sadder hue,
Emerg’d the deepend Indico, as when
The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost.
While the last gleamings of refracted light
Dy'd in the fainting Violet away.
These, when the clouds distil the rosy shower,
Shine out distinct adown the watery bow ;
While o'er our heads the dewy vision bends
Delightful, melting on the fields beneath.
Myriads of mingling dyes from these result,
And myriads still remain; infinite source
Of beauty, ever-blushing, ever-new.
Did ever poet image aught so fair, Dreaming in whispering groves, by the hoarse brook! Or prophet, to whose rapture heaven descends ? Ev'n now the setting sun and shifting clouds,