Imagens da página
PDF
ePub

With famish'd frown on this affrighted ball,

That thou may'st flame the meteor of an hour?

Go, wiser ye, that flutter life away,

Crown with the mantling juice the goblet high! Weave the light dance with festive freedom gay,

And live your moment, since the next ye die !

Yet know, vain skeptics! know, the Almighty Mind,

Who breath'd on man a portion of his fire, Bade his free soul, by earth nor time confin’d,

To heaven, to immortality aspire.

Nor shall the pile of hope his mercy rear'd,

By vain philosophy be e'er destroy'd : Eternity, by all or wish'd or fear'd,

Shall be by all or suffer'd or enjoy'd !

NOTE. In a book of French verses, entitled, Euvres du Philosophe de Sans Souci, and lately re-printed at Berlip by authority, under the title of Poesies Diverses, may be found an Epistle to Marsbal Keith, written professedly against the immortality of the soul. By way of specimen of the whole, take the following lines :

De l'avenir, cher Keith, jugeons par le passe ;
Comme avant que je fusse il n'avoit point pense;
De meme, apres ma mort, quand toutes mes parties
Par la corruption seront aneanties,
Par un meme destin il ne pensera plus !

Non, rien n'est plus certain, soyons en convaincu.
It is to this Epistle that the latter part of the Elegy alludes.

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small]

With famish'd frown on this affrighted ball,

That thou may'st flame the meteor of an hour?

Go, wiser ye, that flutter life away,

Crown with the mantling juice the goblet high! Weave the light dance with festive freedom gay,

And live your moment, since the next ye die !

Yet know, vain skeptics: know, the Almighty Mind,

Who breath'd on man a portion of his fire, Bade his free soul, by earth nor time confin'd,

To heaven, to immortality aspire.

Nor shall the pile of hope his mercy rear’d,

By vain philosophy be e'er destroy'd : Eternity, by all or wish'd or fear'd,

Shall be by all or suffer'd or enjoy'd !

Note. In a book of French verses, entitled, Euvres du Philosophe de Sans Souci, and lately re-printed at Berlip by authority, under the title of Poesies Diverses, may be found an Epistle to Marshal Keith, written professedly against the immortality of the soul. By way of specimen of the whole, take the following lines :

De l'avenir, cher Keith, jugeons par le passe ;
Comme avant que je fusse il n'avoit point pense;
De meme, apres ma mort, quand toutes mes parties
Par la corruption seront adeanties,
Par un meme destin il ne pensera plus !

Non, rien n'est plus certain, soyons en convaincu.
It is to this Epistle that the latter part of the Elegy alludes.

Hymn,

FROM PSALM 148.

BEGIN, my soul, the exalted lay!
Let each enraptured thought obey,

And praise the Almighty's name.
Lo! heaven and earth, and seas and skies,
In one melodious concert rise,

To swell the inspiring theme.

Ye fields of light, celestial plains,
Where gay transporting beauty reigns,

Ye scenes divinely fair !
Your Maker's wondrous power proclaim!
Tell how he form'd your shining frame,

And breath'd the fluid air.

Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound !
While all the adoring thrones around

His boundless mercy sing:
Let every listening saint above
Wake all the tuneful soul of love,

And touch the sweetest string.

H

Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir ;
Thou, dazzling orb of liquid fire,

The mighty chorus aid :
Soon as gray evening gilds the plain,
Thou, moon, protract the melting strain,

And praise him in the shade.

Thou heaven of heavens, his vast abode, Ye clouds, proclaim your rming Go

Who call d yon worlds from night : “ Ye shades, dispel !”—th’ Eternal said ; At once th' involving darkness fled,

And nature sprung to light.

Whate'er a blooming world contains,
That wings the air, that skims the plains,

United praise bestow :
Ye dragons, sound his awful name
To heaven aloud ; and roar acclaim,

Ye swelling deeps below.

Let every element rejoice :
Ye thunders, burst with awful voice

To him who bids you roll;
His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,

And breathe it to the soul.

To him, yo graceful cedars, bow ;
Ye towering mountains, bending low,

Your great Creator own;

« AnteriorContinuar »