God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then, that health and virtue, gifts That can alone make sweet the bitter draught That life holds out to all, fhould most abound, And leaft be threaten'd in the fields and groves? Poffefs ye therefore, ye who, borne about In chariots and fedans, know no fatigue But that of idlenefs, and tafte no scenes But fuch as art contrives, poffefs ye ftill Your element; there only ye can fhine; There only minds like yours can do harm. Our groves were planted to confole at noon The penfive wand'rer in their shades. The noon-beam, fliding foftly in between The fleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, Birds warbling all the mufic. We can spare The splendor of your lamps, they but eclipse Our fofter fatellite. Your fongs confound Our more harmonious notes. The thrush departs Scar'd, and th'offended nightingale is mute: There is a public mifchief in your mirth, It plagues your country. Folly fuch as yours, Grac'd with a 1word, and worthier of a fan, Has made, which enemies could ne'er have done, Our arch of empire, ftedfast but for you, A mutilated structure foon to fall.
§ 147. The Want of Difcipline in the English Univerfities. CoWPER.
IN colleges and halls in ancient days,
When learning, virtue, picty, and truth, * Were precious and inculcated with care, There dwelt a fage call'd Difcipline His head Not yet by Time completely filver'd o'er, Bespoke him paft the bounds of freakish youth, But itrong for fervice ftill, and unimpair'd. His eye was meek and gentle, and a fimile Play'd on his lips, and in his fpeech was heard Paternal fweetnefs, dignity, and love. The occupation deareft to his heart Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke The head of modeft and ingenuous worth That bluth'd at its own praife, and prefs the youth [grew, Clofe to his fide that pleas'd him. Learning Beneath his care a thriving vigorous plant; The mind was well inform'd, the pations held Subordinate, and diligence was choice. If e'er it chanc'd, as fometimes chance it muft, That one among fo many overleap'd The limits of controul, his gentle cye Grew ftern, and darted a fevere rebuke; His frown was full of terror, and his voice Shook the delinquent with fuch fits of awe, As left him not, till penitence had won Lost favour back again, and clos'd the breach. But Difcipline, a faithful fervant long, Declin'd at length into the vale of years: A palfy ftruck his arm, his sparkling eye Was quench'd in rheums of age, his voice un
Their good old friend; and Discipline at length, O'erlook'd and unemploy'd, fell fick and died. Then Study languifh'd, Emulation flept, And Virtue fled. The fchools became a scene Of folemn farce, where ignorance in filts, His cap well lin'd with logic not his own, With parrot-tongue perform'd the Scholar's part, Proceeding foon a graduated Dunce. Then Compromife had place, and Scrutiny Became ftone-blind, Precedence went in truck, And he was competent whofe purse was so. A diffolution of all bonds enfu'd;
The curbs invented for the muleifh mouth Of headstrong youth were broken; bars and bolts Grew rufty by difufe, and maffy gates Forgot their office, op'ning with a touch; Till gowns at length are found mere inasquerade; The taffel'd cap and the fpruce band a jeft, A mock'ry of the world. What need of these For gamesters, jockies, brothellers impure, Spendthrifts, and booted sportsmen, oft'ner feen With belted waift and pointers at their heels, Than in the bounds of duty? What was learn'd, If aught was learn'd in childhood is forgot; And fuch expence as pinches patents blue, And mortifies the lib'ral hand of love, Is fquander'd in purfuit of idle fports And vicious pleafures; buys the boy a name That fits a ftigma on his father's houfe, And cleaves through life infeparably clofe To him that wears it. What can after-games Of riper joys, and commerce with the world, The lewd vain world that must receive him foon, Add to fuch erudition thus acquir'd, Where fcience and where virtue are profess'd? They may confirm his habits, rivet fast His folly; but to spoil him is a task That bids defiance to th'united pow'rs Of fashion, diffipation, taverns, ftews, Now, blame we most the nurflings or the nurse? The children crook'd, and twisted, and deform'd Through want of care, or her whole winking eye And flumb'riag ofcitancy mars the brood? The nurfe no doubt. Regardless of her charge, She needs hertelf correction; needs to learn That it is dang'rous fporting with the world, With things fo facred as a nation's truft, The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge.
But who with filial confidence infpir'd, Can lift to Heav'n an unprefumptuous eye, And fmiling fayMy Father made them all: Are they not his by a peculiar right; And by an emphasis of int'reft his, Whofe eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Whofe heart with praife, and whofe exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world, So cloth'd with beauty, for rebellious man? Yesye may fill your garners, ye that reap The loaded foil, and ye may waste much good In fenfelets riot; but ye will not find In feast or in the chace, in fong or dance, A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd Of ufurpation, and to no man's wrong, Appropriates nature as his Father's work, And has a richer ufe of yours than you. He is indeed a freeman; free by birth Of no mean city, plann'd or ere the hills Were built, the fountains open'd, or the fea With all his roaring multitude of waves. His freedom is the fame in ev'ry state, And no condition of this changeful life, So manifold in cares, whofe ev'ry day Brings its own evil with it, makes it lefs: For he has wings that neither fickness, pain, Nor penury, can cripple or confine; No nook fo narrow but he spreads them there With eafe, and is at large.
Of ignorance till then the overlook'd, A ray of heav'nly light gilding all forms Terreftrial, in the vaft and the minute, The unambiguous footsteps of the God Who gives its lufture to an infect's wing, And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. Much converfant with Heav'n fhe often holds With thofe fair minifters of light to man, That fill the skies nightly with filent pomp, Sweet conference; enquires what strains were they With which heav'n rang, when ev'ry star, in To gratulate the new-created earth, (hafte Sent forth a voice, and all the fons of God Shouted for joy-"Tell me, ye fhining hosts, "That navigate a fea that knows no storms, "Beneath a vault unfullied with a cloud, "If from your elevation, whence ye view "Diftinctly scenes invifible to man,
"And fyfteins of whofe birth no tidings yet "Have reach'd this nether world, ye ípy a race "Favour'd as ours, tranfgreffors from the womb, "And hafting to a grave, yet doom'd to rife, "And to poffefs a brighter heav'n than yours? "As one who, long detain'd on foreign thores "Pants to return, and when he fees afar [rocks "His country's weather-bleach'd and batter'd "From the green wave emerging, darts an eye "Radiant with joy towards the happy land; "So I with animated hopes behold,
Th'oppreffor holds" And many an aching with, your beamy fires, "That fhew like beacons in the blue abyfs, "Ordain'd to guide th'embodied fpirit home "From toilfome life to never-ending reft.
His body bound, but knows not what a range His fpirit takes, unconscious of a chain; And that to bind him is a vain attempt,
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells." Love kindles as I gaze. I feel defires Acquaint thyfelf with God, if thou wouldst tatte His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou waft blind before; Thine eye fhall be instructed, and thine heart, Made pure, fhall relish with divine delight, Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. Brutes graze the mountain-top with faces prone, And eyes intent upon the fcanty herb
"That give affurance of their own fuccefs, "And that infus'd from heav'n muft thither "tend."
It yields them, or, recumbent on its brow, Ruminate heedlefs of the fcene outfprcad Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away From inland regions to the diftant main. Man views it and admires, but refts content With what he views. The landscape has his praife;
But not its Author! Unconcern'd who form'd The paradife he fees, he finds it such,
And fuch well pleas'd to find it, afks no more. Not fo themind that hasbeentouch'd from Heav'n, And in the fchool of facred wifdom taught To read his wonders, in whofe thought the Fair as it is, exifted ere it was: [world,
Not for its own fake merely, but for his Much more who fafhion'd it, he gives it praife; Praise that, from earth refulting as it ought, Toearth's acknowledg'd Sovereign, finds at once Its only juft proprietor in Him.
The foul that fees him, or receives fublim'd New faculties, or learns at least, t'employ More worthily the pow'rs the own'd before, Difcerns in all things, what with ftupid gaze
So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth Illuminates; thy lamp, myfterious word! Which whofo fees no longer wanders loft, With intellects bemaz'd, in endless doubt, But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built, With means that were not till by thee employ'd, Worlds that had never been, hadft thou in ftrength Been lefs, or lefs benevolent than ftrong. They are thy witneffes, who fpeak thy pow'r And goodness infinite, but fpeak in ears That hear not, or receive not their report. In vain thy creatures teftify of thee
Till thou proclaim thyfelf. Theirs is indeed A teaching voice; but 'tis the praife of thine, That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn, And with the boon gives talents for its use. Till thou art heard, imaginations vain Poffefs the heart, and fables false as hell, Yet deem'd oracular, lure down to death The uninform'd and heedlefs fons of men. We give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as blind,
The glory of thy work, which yet appears Perfect and unimpeachable of blame, Challenging human fcrutiny, and prov'd Then skilful most when most severely judg'd. But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'ft: Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r
(If pow'r fhe be that works but to confound) To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. Yet thus we doat, refufing while we can Inftruction, and inventing to ourfelves Gods fuch as guilt makes welcome, Gods that Or difregard our follies, or that fit Amus'd fpectators of this buftling ftage. Thee we reject, unable to abide Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure, Made fuch by thee, we love thee for that caufe For which we fhunn'd and hated thee before. Then we are free: then liberty like day Breaks on the foul, and by a flash from Heav'n Fires all the faculties with glorious joy, A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not
He calls for famine,—and the meagre fiend Blows mildew from between his thrivell'd lips, And taints the golden ear: he springs his mines, And defolates a nation at a blast. Forth fteps the fpruce philofopher, and tells Of homogeneal and difcordant fprings And principles; of caufes, how they work By neceffary laws their fure effects; Of action and re-action. He has found The fource of the difeafe that Nature feels, And bids the world take heart and banish fear. Thou fool! will thy difcovery of the caufe Sufpend th'effect or heal it? Has not God Still wrought by means fince first he made the world?
Till thou haft touch'd them :-'tis the voice of And did he not of old employ his means
A loud Hofanna fent from all thy works, Which he that hears it with a fhout repeats, And adds his rapture to the gen'ral praife. In that bleft moment, Nature throwing wide Her veil opaque, difclofes with a finile The Author of her beauties, who retir'd Behind his own creation, works unfeen By the impure, and hears his pow'r deny'd. Thou art the fource and centre of all minds, Their only point of reft, Eternal Word! From thee departing, they are loft, and rove At random, without honor, hope, or peace. From thee is all that foothes the life of man, His high endeavour, and his glad fuccefs, His strength to fuffer, and his will to ferve. But, oh thou bounteous Giver of all good, Thou art of all thy gifts thyfelf the crown! Give what thou canft, without thee we are poor, And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.
$149. That Philofophy which flops at Secondary Caufes, reproved. CowPER.
HAPPY the man who fees a God employ'd In all the good and ill that chequer life ! Refolving all events, with their effects And manifold refults, into the will And arbitration wife of the Supreme. Did not his eye rule all things, and intend The leaft of our concerns (fince from the leaft The greateft oft originate) could chance Find place in his dominion, or difpofe One lawless particle to thwart his plan, Then God might be furpris'd, an unforeseen Contingence might alarm him, and difturb The fmooth and equal course of his affairs. This truth, philofophy, though eagle-eyed In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks, And having found his inftrument, forgets Or difregards, or, more prefumptuous ftill,
To drown it? What is his creation lefs Than a capacious refervoir of means Form'd for his ufe, and ready at his will? Go, drefs thine eyes with eye-falve, ask of him, Or afk of whom foever he has taught, And learn, tho' late, the genuine cause of all.
§ 150. Rural Sounds as well as Sights delightful. COWPER.
NOR rural fights alone, but rural founds
Exhilarate the fpirit, and restore
The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, That fweep the skirt of fome far-fpreading wood Of ancient growth, make mufic not unlike The dafh of ocean on his winding thore, And lull the fpirit while they fill the mind, Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, And all their leaves faft flutt'ring, all at once. Nor lefs compofure waits upon the roar Of diftant floods, or on the fofter voice Of neighb'ring fountain, or of rills that flip Through the cleft rock, and chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles, lofe themselves at length In matted grals, that with a livelier green Betrays the fecret of their filent courfe: Nature inanimate employs fweet founds, But animated nature fweeter ftill, To footh and fatisfy the human ear. Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one The live-long night: nor thefe alone, whose Nice-finger'd art muft emulate in vain, [notes But cawing rocks, and kites that fwim fublime In ftill repeated circles, fereaning loud, The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding ow! That hails the rifing moon, have charms for me. Sounds inharmonious in themfelves and harih, Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns, And only there, please highly for their fake.
Denies the pow'r that wields it. God proclaims § 151. The Wearisomeness of what is commonly
His hot difpleasure against foolish men That live an atheift life; involves the heav'n In tempefts; quits his grafp upon the winds, And gives them all their fury; bids a plague Kindle a fiery bile upon the skin,
And putrify the breath of blooming health,
called a Life of Pleasure, CowPER.
THE fpleen is feldom felt where Flora reigns;
The lowring eye, the petulance, the frown, And fullen fadnefs that o'er fhade, diftort And mar the face of beauty, when no caufe
For fuch immeafurable woe appears; Thefe Flora banishes, and gives the fair [own. Sweet fimiles and bloom, leis tranfient than her It is the conftant revolution, ftale And taftelefs of the fame repeated joys, That palls and fatiates, and makes languid life A pedlar's pack, that bows the bearer down. Health fuffers, and the fpirits ebb; the heart Recoils from its own choice-at the full feaft Is famifh'd-finds no mufic in the fong, No fmartnefs in the jeft, and wonders why. Yet thousands ftill defire to journey on, Though halt and weary of the path they tread. The paralytic, who can hold her cards, But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand To deal and shuffle, to divide and fort Her mingled fuits and fequences, and fits Spectatrefs both and fpectacle, a fad And filent cypher, while her proxy plays. Others are dragg'd into the crowded room Between fupporters; and once feated, fit, Through downright inability to rife, Till the ftout bearers lift the corpfe again. Thefe fpeak a loud inemento. Yet even thefe Themselves love life, and cling to it, as he That overhangs a torrent to a twig. They love it, and yet loath it; fear to die, Yet icorn the purposes for which they live. Then wherefore not renounce them? No-the dread,
The flavish dread of folitude that breeds Reflection and remorfe, the fear of fhame, And their invet'rate habits all forbid.
Whom call we gay? That honor has been long The boast of mere pretenders to the name. The innocent are gay-the lark is gay That dries his feathers, faturate with dew, Beneath the rofy cloud, while yet the beams Of day-fpring overfhoot his humble neft. The peatant too, a witnefs of his fong, Himfelf a fongfter, is as gay as he. But fave me from the gaiety of those Whofe head-achs nail them to a noon-day bed; And fave me too from theirs whofe haggard eyes Flath defperation, and betray their pangs For property ftripp'd off by cruel chance; From gaiety that fills the bones with pain, The mouth with blafphemy, the heart with woe.
And let that pafs-'twas but a trick of state. - A brave man knows no malice, but at once Forgets, in peace, the injuries of war, And gives his direft foe a friend's embrace. And, tham'd as we have been, to the very beard Brav'd and defy'd, and in our own fea prov'd Too weak for thofe decifive blows, that once Infur'd us maft'ry there, we yet retain Some finall pre-eminence; we justly boast At leaft fuperior jockeyfhip, and claim The honors of the turf as all our own. Go then, well worthy of the praife ye feek, And fhew the fhame ye might conceal at home, In foreign eyes!-be grooms, and win the plate, Where once your nobler fathers won a crown!
§ 153. The Pulpit the Engine of Reformation. COWPER.
THE pulpit therefore (and I name it, fill'd
With folemn awe, that bids me well beware With what intent I touch the holy thing) The pulpit (when the fatʼrift has at laft, Strutting and vap'ring in an empty school, Spent all his force and made no profelyte) I fay the pulpit (in the fober use Of its legitimate peculiar pow'rs) Muft ftand acknowledg'd, while the world thali The most important and effectual guard, Support, and ornament, of virtue's caufe. There ftands the meffenger of truth; there stands The legate of the fkies: his theme divine, His office facred, his credentials clear.
By him the violated law speaks out
Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet As angels ufe, the golpel whifpers peace. He ftablishes the ftrong, reftores the weak, Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart, And, arm'd himfelf in panoply complete Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms Bright as his own, and trains by ev'ry rule The facramental hoft of God's elect. Of holy difcipline, to glorious war,
$154. The Petit-Maitre Clergyman. COWPER. VENERATE the man, whofe heart is warm, Whofe hands are pure, whofe doctrine and Coincident, exhibit lucid proof [whofe life
§ 152. Satirical Review of our Trips to France. That he is honeft in the facred caufe. To fuch I render more than mere respect, Whofe actions fay that they refpect themselves. But loofe in morals, and in manners vain,
NOW hoift the fail, and let the ftreamers float Upon the wanton breezes; ftrew the deck With lavender, and fprinkle liquid tweets, That no rude favour maritime invade The nofe of nice nobility. Breathe foft Ye clarionets, and softer still ye flutes, That winds and waters, lull'd by magic founds, May bear us fmoothly to the Gallic thore. True, we have loft an empire-let it pafs. True, we may thank the perfidy of France, That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown, With all the cunning of an envious threw.
In converfation frivolous, in dress Extreme, at once rapacious and profufe; Frequent in park, with lady at his fide, Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes; But rare at home, and never at his books Or with his pen, fave when he fcrawls a card; Conftant at routs, familiar with a round Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor; Ambitious of preferment for its gold, And well prepar'd by ignorance and floth, By infidelity and love o' th'world,
To make God's work a finecure: a slave To his own pleafures and his patron's pride- From fuch Apoftles, oh, ye mitred heads, Preferve the church! and lay not careless hands On fculls that cannot teach, and will not learn.
$155. Verfes written upon a Pedestal beneath a Row of Elms in a Meadow near Richmond Ferry, belonging to Richard Owen Cambridge, Efq. September, 1760.
By the Author of Love Elegies. YE green-hair'd nymphs whom Pan allows To guard from harm these favour'd boughs; Ye blue-cy'd Naiads of the stream, That foothe the warm poetic dream; Ye elves and fprights, that thronging round, When midnight darkens all the ground, In antic measures uncontroul'd, Your fairy fports and revels hold, And up and down, where'er ye pafs, With many a ringlet print the grafs; If e'er the bard hath hail'd your pow'r At morn's grey dawn, or evening hour; If e'er by moon-light on the plain Your ears have caught th'enraptur'd strain ; From every flow'ret's velvet head, From reverend Thames's oozy bed, From thefe mofs'd elms, where, prifon'd deep, Conceal'd from human eyes, ye fleep, If these your haunts be worth your care, Awake, arife, and hear my prayer!
O banish from this peaceful plain The perjur'd nymph, the faithlefs fwain, The ftubborn heart, that fcorns to bow, And harsh rejects the honeft vow : The fop, who wounds the virgin's car, With aught that fenfe would blush to hear, Or, falfe to honor, mean and vain, Defames the worth he cannot stain : The light coquct, with various art, Who cafts her net for ev'ry heart, And fmiling flatters to the chace Alike the worthy and the bafe: The dame, who, proud of virtue's praise, Is happy if a fifter ftrays,
And, confcious of unclouded fame, Delighted, fpreads the tale of shame: But far, O! banifh'd far be they,
Who hear unmov'd the orphan's cry, Who fec, nor wifh to wipe away
The tear that fwells the widow's eye; Th'unloving man, whofe narrow mind Dildains to feel for human-kind,
At others blifs whofe cheek ne'er glows, Whole breaft ne'er throbs with others wocs, Whofe hoarded fum of private joys His private care alone deftroys; Ye fairies, caft your fpells around, And guard from fuch this hallow'd ground!
But welcome all, who figh with truth, Each conftant maid and faithful youth, Whom mutual love alone hath join'd, Sweet union of the willing mind!
Hearts pair'd in Heaven, not meanly fold, Law-licenc'd prostitutes for gold: And welcome thrice, and thrice again The chofen few, the worthy train, Whofe fteady feet, untaught to stray, Still tread where virtue marks the way; Whole fouls no thought, whofe hands have No deed which honour might not own; [known Who, torn with pain, or ftung with care,
In others blifs can claim a part, And, in life's brightest hour, can share
Each pang that wrings another heart! Ye guardian fpirits, when fuch ye fee, Sweet peace be theirs, and welcome free! Clear be the sky from clouds or fhowers Green be the turf, and fresh the flowers!
And that the youth, whofe pious care Lays on your shrine this honest prayer, May, with the reft, admittance gain, And vifit oft this pleasant scene, Let all who love the Mufe attend: Who loves the Mufe is Virtue's friend!
Such then alone may venture here, Who, free from guilt, are free from fear; Whole wide affections can embrace The whole extent of human race; Whom Virtue and her friends approve; Whom Cambridge and the Mufes love.
$156. The Recantation. An Ode. By the fame. BY Love too long depriv'd of reft
(Fell tyrant of the human breast!) His vaffal long, and worn with pain, Indignant late I fpurn'd the chain; In verfe, in profe, I fung and fwore, No charms fhould e'er enflave me more, Nor neck, nor air, nor lip, nor cyc, Again fhould force one tender figh.
As, taught by Heaven's informing power, From ev'ry fruit and ev'ry flower, That nature opens to the view, The bee extracts the nectar-dew; A vagrant thus, and free to change, From fair to fair I vow'd to range, And part from each without regret As pleas'd and happy as I met.
Then freedom's praife infpir'd my tongue, With freedom's praife the vallies rung, And every night, and every day
My heart thus pour'd th'enraptur'd lay: My cares are gone, my forrows ceafe, "My breaft regains its wonted peace, "And joy and hope returning prove, "That Reason is too ftrong for Love."
Such was my boaft-but ah! how vain! How fhort was Reason's vaunted reign! The firm refolve I form'd ere-while, How weak, oppos'd to Clara's fmile! Chang'd is the ftrain-The vallies round With Freedom's praise no more refound; But ev'ry night and ev'ry day My full heart pour'd the alter'd lay.
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