TO A FRIEND IN ANSWER TO A MELANCHOLY LETTER.
AWAY, those cloudy looks, that labouring sigh,
The peevish offspring of a sickly hour!
Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power,
When the blind Gamester throws a luckless die.
Yon setting Sun flashes a mournful gleam
Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train :
To-morrow shall the many-coloured main
In brightness roll beneath his orient beam!
Wild, as the autumnal gust, the hand of TIME
Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance
The alternate groupes of Joy and Grief advance
Responsive to his varying strains sublime!
Bears on its wing each hour a load of Fate;
The swain, who, lulled by Seine's mild murmurs, led
His weary oxen to their nightly shed,
To-day may rule a tempest-troubled State,
Nor shall not Fortune with a vengeful smile
Survey the sanguinary Despot's might,
And haply hurl the Pageant from his height
Unwept to wander in some savage isle.
There shiv'ring sad beneath the tempest's frown Round his tired limbs to wrap the purple vest; And mixed with nails and beads, an equal jest! Barter for food, the jewels of his crown.
WRITTEN ON THE CHRISTMAS EVE OF 1794.
THIS is the time, when most divine to hear,
The voice of Adoration rouses me,
As with a Cherub's trump: and high upborne,
Yea, mingling with the Choir, I seem to view
The vision of the heavenly multitude,
Who hymned the song of Peace o'er Bethlehem's
Yet thou more bright than all the Angel blaze,
That harbingered thy birth, Thou, Man of Woes!
Despised Galilæan! For the GREAT
INVISIBLE (by symbols only seen)
With a peculiar and surpassing light
Shines from the visage of the oppressed good Man, When heedless of himself the scourged Saint
Mourns for the Oppressor. Fair the vernal Mead,
Fair the high Grove, the Sea, the Sun, the Stars;
True Impress each of their creating Sire!
Yet nor high Grove, nor many-coloured Mead,
Nor the green Ocean with his thousand Isles,
Nor the starred Azure, nor the sovran Sun,
E'er with such majesty of portraiture
Imaged the supreme beauty uncreate,
As thou, meek Saviour! at the fearful hour
When thy insulted Anguish winged the prayer
Harped by Archangels, when they sing of Mercy!
Which when the ALMIGHTY heard from forth his
Diviner light filled Heaven with ecstasy!
Heaven's hymnings paused: and Hell her yawning
Of Him whose Life was Love! Holy with power
He on the thought-benighted Sceptic beamed
Manifest Godhead, melting into day
What floating mists of dark Idolatry
Broke and misshaped the Omnipresent Sire:
And first by FEAR uncharmed the droused Soul.*
* Το Νοητον διηρηκασιν εις πολλων
Till of its nobler Nature it 'gan feel
Dim recollections; and thence soared to Hope,
Strong to believe whate'er of mystic good
The Eternal dooms for his immortal Sons.
From HOPE and firmer FAITH to perfect Love
Attracted and absorbed and centered there
GoD only to behold, and know, and feel,
Till by exclusive Consciousness of God
All self-annihilated it shall make
GoD its Identity: God all in all!
We and our Father ONE!
Who in this fleshly World, the elect of Heaven,
Their strong eye darting through the deeds of Men,
Adore with stedfast unpresuming gaze
Him Nature's Essence, Mind, and Energy!
And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend
Treading beneath their feet all visible things
As steps, that upward to their Father's Throne
Lead gradual-else nor glorified nor loved.
THEY nor Contempt embosom nor Revenge:
For THEY dare know of what may seem deform
The SUPREME FAIR sole Operant in whose sight
All things are pure, his strong controlling Love
Alike from all educing perfect good.
|