Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves
With sweeter music murmur as they flow?
Nor this alone; the various lot of life
Oft from external circumstance assumes
A moment's disposition to rejoice

In those delights which at a different hour
Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of Spring,
When rural songs and odours wake the Morn,
To every eye; but how much more to his
Round whom the bed of sickness long diffus'd
Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair,
When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales
The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed Sun
Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life
Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain!

Or shall I mention, where celestial Truth
Her awful light discloses, to bestow

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A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame?
For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth
More welcome touch his understanding's eye,
Than all the blandishments of sound his ear,
Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet
The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctur'd hues
To me have shone so pleasing, as when first
The hand of Science pointed out the path
In which the sun-beams gleaming from the west
Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veil
Involves the orient; and that trickling shower
Piercing through every crystalline convex
Of clustering dew-drops to their flight oppos'd,
Recoil at length where concave all behind
The internal surface on each glassy orb
Repells their forward passage into air;
That thence direct they seek the radiant goal
From which their course began; and, as they strike
In different lines the gazer's obvious eye,
Assume a different lustre, through the brede
Of colours changing from the splendid rose
To the pale violet's dejected hue.

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Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, That springs to each fair object, while we trace Through all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim Disposing every part, and gaining still By means proportion'd her benignant end? Speak, ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps The lamp of Science through the jealous maze Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal Her secret honours: whether in the sky, The beauteous laws of light, the central powers That wheel the pensile planets round the year; Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, Ye scan the counsels of their author's hand. What, when to raise the meditated scene, The flame of passion through the struggling soul Deep-kindled, shows across that sudden blaze The object of its rapture, vast of size, With fiercer colours and a night of shade? What? like a storm from their capacious bed The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might Of these eruptions, working from the depth Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame Even to the base; from every naked sense Of pain or pleasure dissipating all Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times To bide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks

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Her genuine language, and the words of men, 150 Big with the very motion of their souls,

Declare with what accumulated force
The impetuous nerve of passion urges on
The native weight and energy of things.

Yet more: her honours where nor beauty claims
Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure,
From Passion's power alone our nature holds
Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse
Rouzes the mind's whole fabric; with supplies
Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers
Intensely pois'd, and polishes anew

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By that collision all the fine machine:
Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees
Encumbering, choke at last what Heaven design'd
For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.
-But say, does every passion thus to man
Administer delight? That name indeed
Becomes the rosy breath of Love; becomes
The radiant smiles of Joy, the applauding hand
Of Admiration: but the bitter shower
That Sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave,
But the dumb palsy of nocturnal Fear,
Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart
Of panting Indignation, find we there
To move delight?-Then listen while my tongue
The unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful awe
Reveals; what old Harmodius, wont to teach
My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd
Within his learned mind whate'er the schools
Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice,
O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws
Which govern and support this mighty frame
Of universal being. Oft the hours
From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away,
While mute attention hung upon his lips,
As thus the sage his awful tale began.

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""Twas in the windings of an ancient wood, When spotless youth with solitude resigns To sweet philosophy the studious day, What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190 Musing I rov'd. Of good and evil much, And much of mortal man my thought revolv'd; When starting full on Fancy's gushing eye The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, That hour, O long belov'd and long deplor'd! When blooming youth, nor gentlest Wisdom's arts, Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow, Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave; Thy agonizing looks, thy last farewell Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul

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As with the hand of Death. At once the shade
More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds
With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark
As midnight storms, the scene of human things
Appear'd before me; deserts, burning sands,
Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen south,
And Desolation blasting all the west

With rapine and with murder: tyrant Power
Here sits enthron'd with blood; the baleful charms
Of Superstition there infect the skies,
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And turn the Sun to horrour. Gracious Heaven'
What is the life of man? Or cannot these,
Not these portents thy awful will suffice?
That, propagated thus beyond their scope,
They rise to act their cruelties anew
In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed
The universal sensitive of pain,

The wretched heir of evils not its own!

"Thus I impatient; when, at once effus'd, 2A flashing torrent of celestial day

A purple cloud came floating through the sky,

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And pois'd at length within the circling trees,
Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide
Its lucid orb, a more than human form
Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head,
And instant thunder shook the conscious grove.
Then melted into air the liquid cloud,
Then all the shining vision stood reveal'd.
A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound,
And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee,
Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist
Collected with a radiant zone of gold
Ethereal: there in mystic signs engrav'd,
I read his office high, and sacred name,
Genius of human kind. Appall'd Igaz'd
The godlike presence; for athwart his brow
Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern,
Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words
Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air.
"Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth!
And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span
Capacious of this universal frame?
Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas!
Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord
Of Nature and his works? to lift thy voice
Against the sovereign order he decreed,
All good and lovely? to blaspheme the bands
Of tenderness innate, and social love,
Holiest of things! by which the general orb
Of being, as by adamantine links,
Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'd
From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs
Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal
So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish
The ties of Nature broken from thy frame;
That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart
Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then
The wretched heir of evils not its own?
O fair benevolence of generous minds!
O man by Nature form'd for all mankind!'

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"He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd, As conscious of my tongue's offence, and aw'd Before his presence, though my secret soul Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground I fix'd my eyes; till from his airy couch He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand My dazzling forehead, Raise thy sight,' he cry'd, And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.' "I look'd, and lo! the former scene was chang'd; For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, A solitary prospect, wide and wild, Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas an horrid pile Of hills, with many a shaggy forest mix'd, With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. Aloft, recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, The brown woods way'd; while ever-trickling springs Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine The crumbling soil; and still at every fall Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock, Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods With hoarser inundation; till at last They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, And drank the gushing moisture, where, confin'd In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils, Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound As in a sylvan theatre enclos'd

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I spy'd a fair pavilion, which diffus'd
Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade
Of osiers. Now the western Sun reveal'd
Between two partiug cliffs his golden orb,
And pour'd across the shadow of the hills,
On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light
That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers
Were aw'd, and every thought in silence hung,
And wondering expectation. Then the voice 301
Of that celestial power, the mystic show
Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd.

"Inhabitants of Earth, to whom is given
The gracious ways of Providence to learn,
Receive my sayings with a stedfast ear-
Know then, the sovereign spirit of the world,
Though, self-collected from eternal time,
Within his own deep essence he beheld
The bounds of true felicity complete;
Yet by immense beniguity inclin'd
To spread around him that primeval joy
Which fill'd himself, he rais'd his plastic arm,
And sounded through the hollow depth of space
The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose

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These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life Effusive kindled by his breath divine Through endless forms of being. Each inhal'd From him its portion of the vital flame, In measure such, that, from the wide complex Of co-existent orders, one might rise, One order, all-involving and entire. He too beholding in the sacred light Of his essential reason, all the shapes Of swift contingence, all successive ties Of action propagated through the sum Of possible existence, he at once, Down the long series of eventful time, So fix'd the dates of being, so dispos'd, To every living soul of every kind The field of motion and the hour of rest, That all conspir'd to his supreme design, To universal good: with full accord Answering the mighty model he had chosen, The best and fairest of unnumber'd worlds, That lay from everlasting in the store Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, By one exertion of creative power His goodness to reveal; through every age, Through every moment up the tract of time, 540 His parent-hand, with ever-new increase Of happiness and virtue, has adorn'd The vast harmonious frame: his parent hand, From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, To men, to angels, to celestial minds, For ever leads the generations on To higher scenes of being; while supply'd From day to day with his enlivening breath, Inferior orders in succession rise To fill the void below. As flame ascends, As bodies to their proper centre move, As the pois'd ocean to the attracting Moon Obedient swells, and every headlong stream Devolves its winding waters to the main; So all things which have life aspire to God, The Sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, Centre of souls! Nor does the faithful voice Of Nature cease to prompt their eager steps Aright; nor is the care of Heaven withheld From granting to the task proportion'd aid; 560 That in their stations all may persevere

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To climb the ascent of being, and approach For ever nearer to the life divine.

"That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn Fresh water'd from the mountains. Let the scene Paint in thy fancy the primeval seat Of man, and where the will supreme ordain'd His mansion, that pavilion fair diffus'd Along the shady brink; in this recess To wear the appointed season of his youth, Till riper hours should open to his toil The high communion of superior minds, Of consecrated heroes and of gods. Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld Celestial footsteps from his green abode. Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, He sent whom most he lov'd, the sovereign fair, The effluence of his glory, whom he plac'd Before his eyes for ever to behold; The goddess from whose inspiration flows The toil of patriots, the delight of friends; Without whose work divine, in Heaven or Earth, Nought lovely, nought propitious comes to pass, Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the sire Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, The folded powers to open, to direct The growth luxuriant of his young desires, And from the laws of this majestic world

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Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn
Effusive trembling on the placid waves.
The spring of Heaven had shed its blushing spoils
To bind her sable tresses: full diffus'd
Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze;
And in her hand she wav'd a living branch
Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm
The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes
To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime
The heavenly partner mov'd. The prime of age
Compos'd her steps. The presence of a god,
High on the circle of her brow enthron'd,
From each majestic motion darted awe,
Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looks
Benevolent and meet, confiding love
To filial rapture soften'd all the soul.

Free in her graceful hand she pois'd the sword
Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown
Display'd the old simplicity of pomp
Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe,

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The latent honours of his generous frame;
Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot
From Earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks,
The temple of thy glory. But not me,
Not my directing voice, he oft requires,
Or hears delighted: this enchanting maid,
The associate thou hast given me, her alone
He loves, O Father! absent, her he craves;
And but for her glad presence ever join'd,
Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopes
This thy benignant purpose to fulfil,
I deem uncertain: and my daily cares
Unfruitful all and vain, unless by thee
Still further aided in the work divine.'
"She ceas'd; a voice more awful thus reply'd.
O thou! in whom for ever I delight,
Fairer than all the inhabitants of Heaven,
Best image of thy author! far from thee
Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame;
Who soon or late shall every work fulfil,
And no resistance find. If man refuse
To hearken to thy dictates; or, allur'd
By meaner joys, to any other power
Transfer the honours due to thee alone;
That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste,
That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 490
Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil:
Go then! but let not this thy smiling friend
Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold!
With thee the son of Nemesis I send ;

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The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes account Of sacred Order's violated laws.

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See where he calls thee, burning to be gone,
Fierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath
On yon devoted head. But thou, my child,
Control his cruel phrenzy, and protect
Thy tender charge; that when Despair shall grasp
His agonizing bosom, he may learn,
Then he may learn to love the gracious hand
Alone sufficient in the hour of ill

To save his feeble spirit; then confess

Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair!

When all the plagues that wait the deadly will
Of this avenging demon, all the storms
Of night infernal, serve but to display
The energy of thy superior charms

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