While wanton Love to others is a theme,
And stains the paper with the writer’s shame;
While some the page with bloody battles fill,
Praising them most, who most, alas! do kill;
And while this flatteries, that does Satyrs write,
And one for profit and the one for spite:
Be mine a nobler task, to lay in view
What Homer thought not, nor yet Virgil knew!
If God assist, why should I be afraid?
The lowest poet with the highest aid?
Do thou Great Being, then, whom I adore,
Whom fear and love, direct me how to soar:
Strengthen me, plume with eagle’s wings, to fly;
And bear above Parnassus—to the sky.
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To thee, my Dear, and of myself the part,
In marriage join’d and join’d in soul and heart,
I this address, that thou with me may’st bear
In praising God (the subject here) a share.
A fever, close confinement, mind intent,
Me long ago to proper lowness bent:
Fit school to learn, and fittest place to find
The frequent sallies of th’ Eternal Mind.
How oft, awak’d, distress’d, I’ve went alone,
To seek my long’d for, my beloved one;
Witness thou moon, you glitt’ring stars of lights,
That led my steps amidst the glooms of nights!
Nor led in vain, as rose, and blest the way
The sacred sun, which turned my night to day.
And witness darkness, where I had, conceal’d
From mortal view, immortal things reveal’d!
Then to my bed with peace and joy return’d;
How alter’d now, from him who fear’d and mourn’d!
So well rewarded, home the lab’rer goes,
And toil and joy invite to sweet repose.
Now praise with me, who hast such footsteps trod,
And known such wonders as confess the God:
May I especially his thanks rehearse,
And may this stand a monument in verse;
Which shall the humblest gratitude enshrine:
Yet living praises breathe along the line.
......
But work more pleasant, not more void of care,
To feed the lambs, is also Peter’s share,
Who loves his Lord, has been himself forgiv'n:
For such returns requires impartial Heav'n:
The nurse is pleas’d her lisping care to hear;
Whose childish words the name of witty bear,
Of manly infant deeds, and blemishes of fair.
So plays the prudent with the young convert,
And wins the soul by winning of the heart.
With what delight he sees th’ undaunted youth
Treading the steps himself has trod of truth,
Say who hast went this way, and him that eyes
The rising train, that shall for ever rise.
For truth remains unchang’d, divinely bright;
Warms with its flame, discovers with its light.
See to its standard future crowds repair!
See them still coming, still abiding there!
Among them see, with looks serene and mild,
A few whose looks confess the tutor’d Child!
(Oh might my own much rather there be seen
A humble handmaid, than a worldly queen!)
Such was my Lamden lately, such he sung;
So beat the faithful heart, so flow’d the tongue.
Ah me! who shall the feeling loss retrieve?
A friend like thee shall ever I receive;
May I at last then trace that heav’nly way,
And reign with thee in realms of endless day!
......
Still let us praise Him, still revere His nod,
At once our Saviour, Comforter, and God.
And you His saints, who at His altar wait,
And know to praise, extol Him good and great.
Angels above and all that breathe below,
Each, as you can, His excellencies show.
Let yon bright orbs, which stud the azure skies,
Bless as they set, and bless Him as they rise:
Assist you meteors, that surprise the sight
With dazzling glories, and long trails of light.
To join them, vocal winds and waters deign,
And ev’ry honour of great Nature’s reign.
Winter, which favouring us, its force restrains,
And at His word, unlocks its massy chains,
With future Spring, and Summer yet unseen,
Enrob’d in white, and that in living green,
As likewise yellow Autumn in the rear,
And sable Winter of th’ ensuing year,
All times, all seasons to Eternity,
All beings praise Him, and may ever we.