As on the past retentive mem'ry thinks Throbs my sad heart; grief into silence sinks : I shed, 'tis all I can, affection's tear. If, after death, departed spirits know What daily passes in this world of woe; And if, as some conceive, they hover near, To watch, whom whilst on earth they held most dear, For, best of mothers, thou wilt surely blame Through Him who died for all) amid heav'n's quire ALFORD. THE PROPER STUDY OF MANKIND IS MAN. POPE. Amongst the various blessings which the Deity, in his goodness, has bestowed upon man, few, surely, can rank higher than his having formed him in a peculiar manner, calculated for the enjoyment of social intercourse. When, in consequence of the first deviation from obedience, continual labor took the place of uninterrupted joy, the advantages of society became, as a natural consequence, more apparent, and men found by experience that, without resorting to the assistance of their fellow-creatures, life must not only be most unsatisfactory, but even hardly tolerable. If man, like his Creator, had been all-powerful, society, as far as his immediate interest was concerned, would not have been necessary he might then have comprised, in his own person, all the advantages which he now seeks through the medium of others: such, however, was not to be the case. He was placed in this world as in a state of probation, and the course of life adopted by him towards his associates was to form a chief part of that trial. He was to relieve their wants; and, as much as in him lay, to contribute to the comforts of their lives. An easy task indeed, when we consider the capabilities which divine prudence has implanted in us: for there are few, if any men, who can, with justice, maintain that they are not gifted with some quality calculated for bettering the condition of those in distress, or for increasing the happiness of those in prosperity, by the good offices which give an additional zest to the enjoyments they already possess. When, also, the frailty of the first human beings defaced this glorious world with sin, it became necessary that institutions should be formed to restrain the sinner, and to arrange, on an equal footing, the trans... actions of life. Thus, then, from the earliest periods, laws were founded, and associations were established to carry them into effect; and even, when anarchy and licentiousness have prevented them from affording the required protection, so great have always been the advantages of society among men, that they have sought them by herding together in private confederacies. Thus, we read, that in the time of the Saxons, when justice was very irregularly administered, and great oppression and violence prevailed, the English were accustomed either to place themselves under the patronage of some individual chieftain, or to enter into formal combinations, one with another: a fact, indeed, reflecting the highest disgrace upon the laws then existing, but shewing, plainly, how consistent is society with the necessities of human nature. Since, therefore, it is both needful and expedient that the life of man should be a state of fellowship, and, in some measure, of dependence, we cannot but think that policy false, which may, in anywise, excite uncharitable contempt, or jealous distrust among such as should be members one of another. It is for this reason that those, who, in a morose habit of mind, have secluded themselves from the world, and taken no interest of human affairs, are, by many, esteemed the worst enemies of mankind. Their baleful precepts cannot fail of promoting discontent and suspicion; and, perverting the very end of their being, they turn the sunshine of the world into perpetual gloom. The social mind sickens at the sight, but wishes rather to see every kindly feeling cherished and enlarged, which may promote general welfare and individual happiness. G. W. RHAPSODIES ON SOLITUDE. There is something enchanting in the thoughts and meditations which arise, when full scope is given to imagination by silence, by solitude, and by seclusion, combined with the serenity and beauty of surrounding objects. one I love to be alone! but I must be quite quite alone; not a being to look on me-not an earthly eye to watch me-no one even to guess at the extravagant phantasies that present themselves, after another, in the most glittering hues, to an overheated imagination,-like the outlines of a beautiful panorama, that moves on slowly and stilly before one's sight, where each object is obliterated as the new one, in turn, presents itself. But there must scarcely be a stirring zephyr, or a sportive* dog, to disturb me; my * For sportive, I would read, sporting.-LINDSEY. R thoughts must be entirely within myself; and it must be in a spot where I can sit and muse, and weep, and laugh, and deceive myself, until no real outward object can claim one thought of the myriads that are crowding thick upon me. This is real solitude-the being quite alone; but there are other solitudes-that, for instance, of the voluptuary, Oh! brutal, corporeal solitude! where, surrounded by all the excitements to pampered appetite and bestial passion, the brute sense of man triumphs over an abject mind. That man is indeed alone, for he has not even his soul to keep him company when, revelling in lust and luxury, he smiles to think that he is secure from the observation of the world, and that there is no one to betray the excesses of his indulgence. But let us turn from so disgusting a portrait to the man of deep read science.Imagine, in a room crowded with the instruments of his art, and the books of his research, secluded from the noise and bustle of the world, inured from all social pleasure, entirely shut out from the beauties of nature, a man whose frame bespeaks exhaustion, with a sunken cheek, a red and inflamed eye, a pale and haggard countenance, and this is the solitude of research! In this picture you recognize the man of study, of learning, and science, of immortal discoveries, of glorious literature, mortifying and despising the indulgence of his body, that his mind may be stored with those attainments which, while they are even an exquisite enjoyment to himself, are destined to be a solid advantage to posterity, and a glory to the age which boasts his birth. But neither of these is that dear solitude I at first hinted at, where that species of enchanted forgetfulness to all reality, that ideal world of one's own, which we conjure up within us, that "realm of fairy," that magic of idea, are so well calculated to render this solitude delightful. Thus I sat a few evenings before I left Devonshire, on the beach of that beautiful harbour Torbay. The wave rippled at my feet, and I thought of those I loved-of distant friends of happiness more than earthly-of beatitude impossible-of those who were gone. I sat on the rock, and I could have fancied myself a king of the wave, and I forgot every thing, save the smooth, pellucid sea before me, with here and there a white sail, looking like a speck on the horizon. Thus surrounded, was I lost in thought, till the shades of evening overspread the whole, and I tore myself from the enchanting scene. A day or two after I saw that beech crowded with spectators, myself one, amidst a throng of gaiety, who had so lately trod its shingles the only living creature. It was the annual Regatta, and happy parties were clustering round the very rock on which I had indulged my lonely meditations. The beech looked equally beautiful, but widely different from its former attractions were the charms which now arrested my attention. I enjoyed both scenes; for I am not one of those who are ever alone in a crowd; even then, when I looked on the spot of my musing, I was unusually excited by the lively bustle, and the gay throng, of the Regatta day. A. THE DANCE. -και κατα στεγασ λωτος βοασθω και ποδωνεστω κτυπος A tear may well become an eye- Let the flute sound in the house, And let there be a beating of feet. |