When late, where Tajo rolls his ancient tide,
Reflecting clear the mountain's purple side,
Thy genius, Craufurd, Britain's legions led, [head;
And Fear's chill cloud forsook each brightening
By nature brave, and generous as thou art,
Say did not human follies vex thy heart?
Glow'd not thy breast indignant, when you saw
The dome of murder consecrate by law?
Where fiends, commission'd with the legal rod,
In pure devotion, burn the works of God.
O change me, powers of Nature! if ye can,
Transform me, make me any thing but man.
Yet why? This heart all human kind forgives,
While Gillman loves me, and while Craufurd lives.
Is Nature, all-benevolent, to blame
That half her offspring are their mother's shame ?
Did she ordain o'er this fair scene of things
The cruelty of priests, or pride of kings? [fame,
Though worlds lie murder'd for their wealth or
Is Nature, all-benevolent, to blame?
O that the world were emptied of its slaves!
That all the fools were gone, and all the knaves!
Then might we, Craufurd, with delight embrace,
In boundless love, the rest of human race.
But let not knaves misanthropy create,
Nor feed the gall of universal hate :
Wherever Genius, Truth, and Virtue dwell,
Polish'd in courts, or simple in a cell,
All views of country, sects, and creeds apart,
These, these I love, and hold them to my heart.
Vain of our beauteous isle, and jus ly vain,
For freedom here, and health, and plenty reign;
We different lots contemptuously compare,
And boast, like children, of a favourite's share.
Yet though each vale a deeper verdure yields
Than Arno's banks, or Andalusia's fields;
Though many a tree-crown'd mountain teems with
Though flocks innumerous whiten every shore;
Why should we, thus with Nature's wealth elate,
Behold her different families with hate?
Look on her works-on every page you'll find
Inscribed, the doctrine of the social mind.
See countless worlds of insect-being share
The' unenvied regions of the liberal air!
In the same grove what music void of strife!
Heirs of one stream, what tribes of scaly life!
See Earth and Air, and Fire and Flood combine
Of general good to aid the great design!
Where Ancon drags o'er Lincoln's lurid plain,
Like a slow snake, his dirty-winding train,
Where fogs eternal blot the face of day,
And the lost bittern moans his gloomy way;
As well we might, for unpropitious skies,
The blameless native with his clime despise,
As him who still the poorer lot partakes
Of Biscay's mountains, or Batavia's lakes.
Yet look once more on Nature's various plan:
Behold, and love her noblest creature, man!
She, never partial, on each various zonę
Bestow'd some portion, to the rest unknown;
By mutual interest meaning thence to bind
In one vast chain the commerce of mankind
Behold, ye vain disturbers of an hour!
Ye dupes of Faction! and ye tools of Power!
Poor rioters on Life's contracted stage!
Behold, and lose your littleness of rage:
Throw Envy, Folly, Prejudice behind;
And yield to Truth the empire of the mind.
Immortal Truth! O from thy radiant shrine,
Where light created first essay'd to shine ;
Where clustering stars eternal beams display,
And gems ethereal drink the golden day;
To chase this moral, clear this sensual night,
O shed one ray of thy celestial light!
Teach us, while wandering through this vale below
We know but little, that we little know.
One beam to mole-ey'd Prejudice convey,
Let pride perceive one mortifying ray :
Thy glass to fools, to infidels apply,
And all the dimness of the mental eye.
Plac'd on this shore of Time's far-stretching bourn,
With leave to look at Nature and return,
While wave on wave impels the human tide,
And ages sink, forgotten as they glide;
Can life's short duties better be discharg'd,
Than when we leave it with a mind enlarg'd?
Judg'd not the old philosopher aright,
When thus he preach'd, his pupils in his sight?
'It matters not, my friends, how low or high
Your little walk of transient life may lie;
Soon will the reign of Hope and Fear be o'er,
And warring passions militate no more:
And trust me, he who, having once survey'd
The good and fair which Nature's wisdom made,
The soonest to his former state retires,
And feels the peace of satisfied desires,
(Let others deem more wisely if they can)
I look on him to be the happiest man.'
So thought the sacred sage, in whom I trust,
Because I feel his sentiments are just.
"Twas not in lustrums of long counted years
That swell'd the' alternate reign of hopes and fears;
Not in the splendid scenes of pain and strife,
That Wisdom plac'd the dignity of life:
To study Nature was the task design'd,
And learn from her the' enlargement of the mind. Learn from her works whatever Truth admires, And sleep in death with satisfied desires.
LIGHT heard his voice, and eager to obey,
From all her orient fountains burst away.
At Nature's birth, O! had the Power Divine
Commanded thus the moral Sun to shine,
Beam'd on the mind all Reason's influence bright,
And the full day of intellectual light,
Then the free soul, on Truth's strong pinion borne,
Had never languish'd in this shade forlorn,
Yet thus imperfect form'd, thus blind and vain,
Doom'd by long toil a glimpse of truth to gain;
Beyond its sphere shall human wisdom go,
And boldly censure what it cannot know?
For what Heav'n gave, let us the donor bless,
Nor than their merits rank our mercies less.
'Tis ours to cherish what Heav'n deign'd to give,
And, thankful for the gift of being, live.
Progressive powers, and faculties that rise
From earth's low vale, to grasp the golden skies,
Though distant far from perfect good, or fair,
Claim the due thought, and ask the grateful care.
Come, then, thou partner of my life and name,
From one dear source, whom Nature form'd the
same,
Allied more nearly in each nobler part,
And more the friend than brother of my heart!
Let us, unlike the lucid twins that rise
At different times, and shine in distant skies,
With mutual eye this mental world survey,
Mark the slow rise of intellectual day,
View Reason's source, if man the source may find,
And trace each science that exalts the mind.
Thou self-appointed Lord of all below! Ambitious man, how little dost thou know? For once let Fancy's towering thoughts subside; Look on thy birth, and mortify thy pride! A plaintive wretch, so blind, so helpless born, The brute sagacious might behold with scorn. How soon, when Nature gives him to the day, In strength exulting, does he bound away!
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