E'en o'er your cold, your ever-sacred urn, His constant flame shall unextinguish'd burn. Thus I, Belinda, would your charms improve, And form your heart to all the arts of love. The task were harder, to secure my own Against the power of those already known: For well you twist the secret chains that bind With gentle force the captivated mind, Skill'd every soft attraction to employ, Each flattering hope, and each alluring joy. I own your genius; and from you receive The rules of pleasing which to you I give. LYTTELTON.
ON THE MORAL ADVANTAGES OF A WELLFORMED IMAGINATION.
WHAT though not all
Of mortal offspring can attain the heights Of envied life; though only few possess Patrician treasures or imperial state; Yet Nature's care, to all her children just, With richer treasures and an ampler state, Endows at large whatever happy man Will deign to use. His the city's pomp,
The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns The princely dome, the column and the arch, The breathing marbles and the sculptured gold, Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring Distils her dews, and from the silken gem Its lucid leaves unfolds: for him, the hand Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch With blooming gold and blushes like the morn. Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Fresh pleasure, unreproved. Nor thence partakes Fresh pleasures only: for the attentive mind, By this harmonious action on her powers, Becomes herself harmonious: wont so oft In outward things to meditate the charm Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home To find a kindred order, to exert Within herself this elegance of love,
This fair inspired delight: her temper'd powers Refine at length, and every passion wears A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze On nature's form, where, negligent of all These lesser graces, she assumes the port Of that eternal majesty that weigh'd
The world's foundations, if to these the mind Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far
Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms Of servile custom cramp her generous powers? Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? Lo! she appeals to nature, to the winds
And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, The elements and seasons: all declare For what th' eternal Maker has ordain'd The powers of man: we feel within ourselves His energy divine: he tells the heart,
He meant, he made us to behold and love What he beholds and loves, the general orb Of life and being; to be great like him, Beneficent and active. Thus the men
Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, With his conceptions, act upon his plan; And form to his, the relish of their souls.
WHAT then is taste, but these internal powers, Active, and strong, and feelingly alive To each fine impulse? a discerning sense Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust From things deform'd, or disarranged or gross In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, Nor purple state, nor culture, can bestow; But God alone when first his active hand Imprints the secret bias of the soul. He, mighty parent! wise and just in all, Free as the vital breeze or light of heaven, Reveals the charms of nature. Ask the swain Who journeys homeward from a summer day's Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils And due repose, he loiters to behold
The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds, O'er all the western sky;-full soon, I ween, His rude expression and untutor'd airs, - Beyond the power of language, will unfold The form of beauty smiling at his heart;
How lovely! how commanding! but though Heaven In every breast hath sown these early seeds Of love and admiration, yet in vain, Without fair culture's kind parental aid, Without enlivening suns, and genial showers, And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope The tender plant should rear its blooming head, Or yield the harvest promised in its spring. Nor yet will every soil with equal stores Repay the tiller's labour; or attend His will, obsequious, whether to produce The olive or the laurel. Different minds Incline to different objects: one pursues The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild; Another sighs for harmony, and grace,
And gentlest beauty. Hence when lightning fires The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground,
When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, And ocean, groaning from its lowest bed, Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; Amid the mighty uproar, while below The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys The elemental wår. But Waller longs All on the margin of some flowery stream To spread his careless limbs amid the cool Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain Resound soft-warbling all the live-long day: Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. Such and so various are the tastes of men!
TRUTH, HONOUR, HONESTY.
In thee, bright maid, though all the virtues shine, With rival beams, and every grace is thine, Yet three, distinguish'd by thy early voice, Excite our praise, and well deserve thy choice.
Immortal Truth in heaven itself displays Her charms celestial born, and purest rays,
Which thence in streams, like golden sunshine, flow, And shed their light on minds like yours below.
Fair Honour, next in beauty and in grace, Shines in her turn, and claims the second place; She fills the well-born soul with noble fires, And generous thoughts and godlike acts inspires.
Then Honesty, with native air, succeeds, Plain is her look, unartful are her deeds; And, just alike to friends and foes, she draws The bounds of right and wrong, nor errs from equal laws.
From heaven this scale of virtue thus descends By just degrees, and thy full choice defends. So when in visionary trains, by night Attending angels bless'd good Jacob's sight, The mystic ladder thus appear'd to rise, Its foot on earth, its summit in the skies.
CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid
The world's foundations first were laid, Come visit every pious mind;
Come pour thy joys on human kind; From sin and sorrow set us free, And make thy temples worthy thee.
O source of uncreated light, The Father's promised Paraclete! Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, Our hearts with heavenly love inspire; Come, and thy sacred unction bring To sanctify us, while we sing.
Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Rich in thy sevenfold energy!
Thou strength of his Almighty hand, Whose power
does heaven and earth command. Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense, And crown'st thy gift with eloquence!
Refine and purge our earthly parts; But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts! Our frailties help, our vice control, Submit the senses to the soul; And when rebellious they are grown, Then lay thy hand and hold them down.
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