Week 2
THOUGHTS in PRISON:
SUNDAY, March 2, 1777.
WEEK THE SECOND.
The Retrospect.
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Oh, not that thou goest hence--sweet drooping flower,
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1 |
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Surcharg'd with Sorrow's dew!--Not that thou quitt'st
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2 |
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This pent and feverish gloom; which beams with light,
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3 |
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With health, with comfort, by thy presence cheer'd,
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4 |
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Companion of my life, and of my woes
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5 |
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Blest soother! Not that thou goest hence to drink
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6 |
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A purer air, and gather from the breath
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7 |
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Of balmy Spring new succour, to recruit
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8 |
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Thy waning health, and aid thee to sustain,
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9 |
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With more than manly fortitude, thy own
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10 |
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And my afflictive Trials! Not that here,
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11 |
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Amidst the glories of this genial day,
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12 |
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Immur'd, thro' iron bars I peep at Heaven,
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13 |
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With dim, lack-lustre eye! --Oh, 'tis not this
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14 |
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That drives the poison'd point of torturous Thought
|
15 |
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Deep to my spring of life! It is not this
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16 |
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That prostrate lays me weeping in the dust,
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17 |
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And draws in sobs the life-blood from my heart!
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18 |
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Well could I bear thy Absence: well, full well;
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19 |
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Tho' Angel comforts in thy converse smile,
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20 |
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And make my dungeon Paradise!--Full well
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21 |
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Could I sustain thro' iron bars to view
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22 |
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The golden Sun, in bridegroom-majesty
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23 |
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Taking benignant Nature to his love,
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24 |
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And decking her with bounties! Well, very well
|
25 |
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Could I forego the delicate delight
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26 |
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Of tracing nature's germens, as they bud;
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27 |
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Of viewing Spring's first children, as they rise
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28 |
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In innocent sweetness, or beneath the thorn
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29 |
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In rural privacy; or on gay parterre
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30 |
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More artful, less enchanting!--Well, very well
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31 |
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Could I forego to listen,--in this house
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32 |
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Of unremitted din,--and nought complain;
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33 |
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To listen, as I oft have stood with Thee
|
34 |
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Listening in fond endearment to the voice
|
35 |
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Of Stock-dove, thro' the silence of the wood
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36 |
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Hoarse murmuring:--Well, oh could I forego
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37 |
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These innocent, tho' exquisite delights,
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38 |
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Still new, and to my bosom still attun'd
|
39 |
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In moral, mental melody!--Sweet Spring!
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40 |
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Well could I bear this sad exile from Thee,
|
41 |
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Nor drop one tear reluctant: for my Soul,
|
42 |
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Strong to superior feelings, soars aloft
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43 |
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To eminence of misery!--Confin'd
|
44 |
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On this blest day--the Sabbath of my God!
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45 |
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--Not from his House alone, not from the power
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46 |
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Of joyful worship with assembling Crouds, [1]
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47 |
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But from the labours once so amply mine,
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48 |
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The labours of his love. Now, laid aside,
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49 |
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Cover'd my head with ignominious dust,
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50 |
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My voice is stopp'd! and, had I e'en the power,
|
51 |
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Strong shame, and stronger grief would to that voice
|
52 |
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Forbid all utterance!--Ah, thrice hapless voice,
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53 |
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By Heaven's own finger all indulgent tun'd
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54 |
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To touch the heart, and win th' attentive soul
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55 |
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To love of Truth Divine: how useless now,
|
56 |
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How dissonant, unstrung!--Like Salem's harps,
|
57 |
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Once fraught with richest harmony of praise,
|
58 |
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Hung in sad silence by Euphrates' stream,
|
59 |
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Upon the mournful willows! There they wept,
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60 |
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Thy captive People wept--O God!--when Thought
|
61 |
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To bitter memory recall'd the songs,
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62 |
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The dulcet songs of Sion! Oh blest songs,
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63 |
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Transporting chorus of united hearts,
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64 |
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In cheerful music mounting to the praise
|
65 |
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Of Sion's King of Glory!--Oh the joy
|
66 |
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Transcendant, of petitions wing'd aloft
|
67 |
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With fervour irresistible from throngs
|
68 |
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Assembled in thy earthly Courts, dread King
|
69 |
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Of all-dependant Nature!--looking up
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70 |
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For all to Thee, as do the Servants' eyes
|
71 |
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Up to their fostering Master! Joy of joys,
|
72 |
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Amidst such throng'd assemblies to stand forth,
|
73 |
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To blow the Silver Trumpet of thy Grace;
|
74 |
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The gladsome year of Jubilee to proclaim,
|
75 |
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And offer to the aching Sinner's heart
|
76 |
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Redemption's healing mercies! And methinks
|
77 |
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(--Indulge the pleasing reverie, my soul!
|
78 |
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The waking dream, which in oblivion sweet
|
79 |
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Lulls thy o'erlabour'd sense!) methinks, convey'd
|
80 |
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To Ham's lov'd shades, --dear favourite shades, by Peace
|
81 |
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And pure Religion sanctify'd,--I hear
|
82 |
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The tuneful bells their hallow'd message sound
|
83 |
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To Christian hearts symphonious! Circling Time
|
84 |
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Once more hath happily brought round the day,
|
85 |
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Which calls us to the Temple of our God:
|
86 |
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Then let us haste, in decent neatness clad,
|
87 |
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My cheerful little Household, to his Courts.
|
88 |
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So lov'd, so truly honour'd! There we'll mix
|
89 |
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In meek, ingenuous Deprecation's cry;
|
90 |
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There we'll unite in full Thanksgiving's choir,
|
91 |
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And all the rich melodiousness of praise.
|
92 |
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I feel, I feel the rapture! David's harp
|
93 |
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Concordant with a thousand voices sounds:
|
94 |
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Prayer mounts exulting: Man ascends the skies
|
95 |
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On wings of Angel-fervour! Holy writ
|
96 |
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Or speaks the wonders of Jehovah's power,
|
97 |
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Or tells, in more than mortal majesty,
|
98 |
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The greater wonders of his Love to Man!
|
99 |
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Proofs of that love, see where the mystic Signs,
|
100 |
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High emblems of unutterable Grace,
|
101 |
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Confirm to Man the zeal of Heaven to save,
|
102 |
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And call to Gratitude's best office!
|
103 |
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--------Wise
|
104 |
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In all thy sacred institutions, Lord,
|
105 |
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Thy Sabbaths with peculiar wisdom shine;
|
106 |
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First and high argument, Creation done,
|
107 |
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Of thy benign solicitude for Man,
|
108 |
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Thy chiefest, favourite creature. Time is thine:
|
109 |
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How just to claim a part, who giv'st the whole!
|
110 |
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But oh, how gracious, to assign that part
|
111 |
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To Man's supreme behoof, his soul's best good;
|
112 |
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His mortal and his mental benefit;
|
113 |
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His body's genial comfort! Savage else,
|
114 |
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Untaught, undisciplin'd, in shaggy pride
|
115 |
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He'd rov'd the wild, amidst the brutes a brute
|
116 |
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Ferocious; to the soft civilities
|
117 |
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Of cultivated life, Religion, Truth,
|
118 |
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A barbarous stranger. To thy Sabbaths then
|
119 |
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All hail, wise Legislator! 'Tis to these
|
120 |
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We owe at once the memory of thy works,
|
121 |
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Thy mighty works of Nature and of Grace;--
|
122 |
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We owe divine Religion; and to these
|
123 |
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The decent comeliness of Social Life.
|
124 |
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Revere, ye earthly Magistrates, who wield
|
125 |
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The Sword of Heaven,--the wisdom of Heaven's plan,
|
126 |
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And sanctify the Sabbaths of your God!
|
127 |
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Religion's All: With that or stands or falls
|
128 |
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Your Country's weal! but where shall she obtain
|
129 |
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--Religion, sainted Pilgrim,--shelter safe,
|
130 |
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Or honourable greeting;--thro' the land,
|
131 |
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If led by high and low, in giddy dance,
|
132 |
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Mad Profanation on the sacred day
|
133 |
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Of God's appointed rest, her revel-rout
|
134 |
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Insulting heads, and leaves the Temple void?
|
135 |
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--Oh, my lov'd Country! oh, ye thoughtless Great,
|
136 |
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Intoxicate with draughts, that opium-like
|
137 |
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For transient moments stupefy the mind,
|
138 |
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To wake in horrors, and confusion wild!--
|
139 |
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But soft, and know thyself! 'Tis not for Thee,
|
140 |
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Poor Destitute! thus groveling in the dust
|
141 |
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Of self-annihilation, to assume
|
142 |
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The Censor's office, and reprove mankind.
|
143 |
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Ah me,--thy day of duty is declin'd!
|
144 |
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Thou, rather, to the quick probe thine own wounds;
|
145 |
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And plead for mercy at the Judgement-seat,
|
146 |
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Where Conscience smites thee for th' offence deplor'd.
|
147 |
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Yet not presumptuous deem it, Arbiter
|
148 |
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Of human thoughts, that thro' the long, long gloom
|
149 |
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Of multiplied transgressions, I behold
|
150 |
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Complacent smiling on my sickening Soul,
|
151 |
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"Delight in thy lov'd Sabbaths!" Well Thou know'st--
|
152 |
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For Thou know'st all things,--that the cheerful sound
|
153 |
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Of that blest day's return, for circling weeks,
|
154 |
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For months, for years, for more than thrice seven years,
|
155 |
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Was music to my heart! My feet rejoic'd
|
156 |
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To bear me to thy Temples, haply fraught
|
157 |
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With Comfort's tidings; with thy Gospel's truth,
|
158 |
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The Gospel of thy Peace! Oh, well Thou know'st,
|
159 |
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Who knowest all things, with what welcome toil,
|
160 |
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What pleasing assiduity I search'd
|
161 |
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Thy heavenly Word, to learn thy heavenly Will;
|
162 |
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That faithful I might minister its truth,
|
163 |
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And of the high Commission nought keep back
|
164 |
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From the great Congregation! [2] Well thou know'st,
|
165 |
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--Sole, sacred witness of my private hours,--
|
166 |
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How copiously I bath'd with pleading tears,
|
167 |
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How earnestly in prayer consig'd to Thee
|
168 |
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The humble efforts of my trembling pen;
|
169 |
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My best, weak efforts in my Master's cause;
|
170 |
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Weak as the feather 'gainst the giant's shield,
|
171 |
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Light as the gosmer floating on the wind,
|
172 |
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Without thy aid omnipotent! Thou know'st,
|
173 |
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How, anxious to improve in every grace,
|
174 |
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That best to Man's attention might commend
|
175 |
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Th' important message, studious I applied
|
176 |
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My feeble talents to the holy art
|
177 |
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Of 'suasive Elocution; emulous
|
178 |
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Of every acquisition which might clothe
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179 |
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In purest dignity the purest work,
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180 |
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The first, the highest office man can bear;
|
181 |
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"The Messenger of God!" And well Thou know'st,
|
182 |
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--For all the work, as all the praise is Thine--
|
183 |
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What sweet success accompanied the toil:
|
184 |
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What harvests bless'd the seed-time! Well thou know'st,
|
185 |
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With what triumphant gladness my rapt Soul
|
186 |
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Wrought in the vineyard! how it thankful bore
|
187 |
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The noon-day's heat, the evening's chilly frost,
|
188 |
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Exulting in its much-lov'd Master's cause
|
189 |
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To spend, and to be spent! and bring it home
|
190 |
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From triple labours of the well-toil'd day,
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191 |
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A body by fatigue o'erborne; a mind
|
192 |
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Replete with glad emotions to its God!
|
193 |
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Ah, my lov'd Household! ah, my little round
|
194 |
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Of social Friends! well do ye bear in mind
|
195 |
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Those pleasing evenings, when, on my return,
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196 |
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Much-wish'd return--Serenity the mild,
|
197 |
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And Cheerfulness the innocent, with me
|
198 |
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Enter'd the happy dwelling! Thou, my Ernst,
|
199 |
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Ingenuous Youth! whose early spring bespoke
|
200 |
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Thy summer, as it is, with richest crops
|
201 |
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Luxuriant waving; gentle Youth, canst Thou
|
202 |
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Those welcome hours forget? or Thou--oh Thou!
|
203 |
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--How shall I utter from my beating heart
|
204 |
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Thy name, so musical, so heavenly sweet
|
205 |
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Once to these ears distracted!--Stanhope, say,
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206 |
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Canst thou forget those hours, when, cloth'd in smiles
|
207 |
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Of fond respect, Thou and thy Friend have strove
|
208 |
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Whose little hands should readiest supply
|
209 |
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My willing wants; officious in your zeal
|
210 |
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To make the Sabbath evenings, like the day,
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211 |
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A scene of sweet composure to my Soul! [3]
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212 |
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Oh happy Sabbaths!--Oh my Soul's delight!
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213 |
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Oh days of matchless mercy! matchless praise!
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214 |
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Gone, gone, for ever gone! How dreadful spent,
|
215 |
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Useless, in tears, and groans, and bitter woe,
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216 |
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In this wild place of horrors! --Oh, return,
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217 |
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Ye happy Sabbaths!--or to that lov'd realm
|
218 |
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Dismiss me, Father of Compassions, where
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219 |
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Reigns one eternal Sabbath! Tho' my voice,
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220 |
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Feeble at best, be damp'd, and cannot soar
|
221 |
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To strains sublime, beneath the sorrowing sense
|
222 |
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Of base Ingratitude to thee, my God,
|
223 |
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My Father, Benefactor, Saviour, Friend;--
|
224 |
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Yet, in that realm of rest, 'twill quickly catch
|
225 |
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Congenial harmony! 'twill quickly rise
|
226 |
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Even from Humility's weak, trembling touch;
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227 |
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Rise with the glowing Seraph in the choir,
|
228 |
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And strive to be the loudest in thy praise.
|
229 |
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Too soaring thought! that, in a moment sunk
|
230 |
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By sad reflection, and convicting guilt,
|
231 |
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Falls prostrate on the earth.--So, pois'd in air,
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232 |
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And warbling his wild notes about the clouds,
|
233 |
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Almost beyond the ken of human sight;
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234 |
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Clapp'd to his side his plumy steerage, down
|
235 |
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Drops--instantaneous drops the silent Lark!
|
236 |
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--How shall I mount to Heaven? how join the choir
|
237 |
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Celestial of bright Seraphim? Deprest
|
238 |
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Beneath the burden of a thousand sins,
|
239 |
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On what blest dove-like wing shall I arise,
|
240 |
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And fly to the wish'd rest?
|
241 |
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--Of counsel free,
|
242 |
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Some to my aching heart, with kind intent,
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243 |
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Offer the poisonous balsam of desert;
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244 |
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"Bid me take comfort from the cheering view
|
245 |
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"Of deeds benevolent, and active life
|
246 |
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"Spent for the weal of others!" Syren-songs,
|
247 |
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Soon hush'd by howlings of severe Reproach,
|
248 |
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Unfeeling, uncompassionate, and rude,
|
249 |
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Which o'er my body, panting on the earth,
|
250 |
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With wounds incurable insulting whirls
|
251 |
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Her iron scourge: accumulates each ill
|
252 |
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That can to Man's best fame damnation add:
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253 |
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Spies not one mark of white throughout my life;
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254 |
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And, groaning o'er my anguish, to Despair,
|
255 |
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As my sole, sad resource, indignant points!
|
256 |
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But not from You,--ah cruel, callous Foes,
|
257 |
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Thus to exult, and press a fallen Man!--
|
258 |
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Nor even from You, tho' kind, mistaken Friends,
|
259 |
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Admit we counsel here. Too deep the stake,
|
260 |
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Too awful the inquiry--how the Soul
|
261 |
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May smile at Death, and meet its God in peace--
|
262 |
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To rest the answer on uncertain Man!
|
263 |
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Alike above your friendship or your hate,
|
264 |
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Here, here I to[we]r triumphant! and behold
|
265 |
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At once confirmed security and joy,
|
266 |
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Beyond the reach of mortal hand to shake,
|
267 |
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Or for a moment cloud.--Hail, bleeding Love!
|
268 |
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In thy humiliation deep and dread,
|
269 |
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Divine Philanthropist, my ransom'd soul
|
270 |
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Beholds its triumph, and avows its cure!
|
271 |
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Its perfect, free salvation! Knows or feels
|
272 |
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No merit, no dependence, but thy Faith,
|
273 |
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Thy Hope and Love consummate! All abjures;
|
274 |
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Casts all,--each care, each burden, at the foot
|
275 |
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Of thy victorious Cross: Its heart and life
|
276 |
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One wish, one word uniting--ever may
|
277 |
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That wish and word in me, Blest Lord, unite!--
|
278 |
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"Oh, ever may in me Thy will be done!"
|
279 |
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Firm and unshaken, as old Sion's Hill,
|
280 |
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Remains this sure Foundation: who on Christ,
|
281 |
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The Corner-Stone, build faithful, build secure:
|
282 |
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Eternity is theirs. Then talk no more,
|
283 |
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Ye airy, vague, fantastic Reasoners,
|
284 |
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Of the light stubble, crackling in the fire
|
285 |
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Of God's investigation; of the chaff
|
286 |
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Dispers'd and floating 'fore the slightest wind,--
|
287 |
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The chaff of human merit! Gracious God!
|
288 |
|
What pride, what contradiction in the term!
|
289 |
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Shall Man, vain Man, drest in a little power
|
290 |
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Deriv'd from Nature's Author; and that power
|
291 |
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Holding, an humble tenant, at the will
|
292 |
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Of Him who freely gave it; His high will,
|
293 |
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The dread Supreme Disposer: shall poor Man,
|
294 |
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A beggar indigent and vile,--enrich'd
|
295 |
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With every precious faculty of soul,
|
296 |
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Of Reason, intellect; with every gift
|
297 |
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Of animal life luxuriant--from the store
|
298 |
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Of unexhausted bounty; shall he turn
|
299 |
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That bounty to abuse? lavish defy
|
300 |
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The Giver with his gifts,--a rebel base!
|
301 |
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And yet, presumptuous, arrogant, deceived,
|
302 |
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Assume a pride for actions not his own;
|
303 |
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Or boast of merit, when his All's for God,
|
304 |
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And he that All has squander'd! Purest Saints,
|
305 |
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Brightest Archangels, in the choir of Heaven,
|
306 |
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Fulfilling all complete his Holy Will,
|
307 |
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Who plac'd them high in glory as they stand;
|
308 |
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Fulfil but Duty! Nay, as owing more
|
309 |
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From love's supreme distinction, readier veil
|
310 |
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Their radiant faces with their golden plumes;
|
311 |
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And fall more humbled 'fore the Throne they hymn
|
312 |
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With gratitude superior. Could bold Pride
|
313 |
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One Moment whisper to their lucid souls
|
314 |
|
Desert's intolerable Folly,--down
|
315 |
|
Like Lucifer, the Morning-star, they'd fall
|
316 |
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From their bright state obscur'd! Then, proud, poor worm,
|
317 |
|
Conceiv'd in sins, offending from thy youth,
|
318 |
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In every point transgressor of the Law
|
319 |
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Of Righteousness; of Merit towards God
|
320 |
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Dream, if thou canst; or, madman if thou art,
|
321 |
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Stand on that plea for Heav'n,--and be undone!
|
322 |
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Blest be thy tender mercy, God of Grace!
|
323 |
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That 'midst the terrors of this trying Hour,
|
324 |
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When in this midnight, lonely, prison-gloom,
|
325 |
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My inmost soul hangs naked to thy view;
|
326 |
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When, undissembled in the search, I fain
|
327 |
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Would know, explore, and balance every thought
|
328 |
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(For oh, I see Eternity's dread Gates
|
329 |
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Expand before me, soon perhaps to close!)--
|
330 |
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Blest be thy Mercy, that, subdued to Thee,
|
331 |
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Each lofty vain imagination bows;
|
332 |
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Each high idea humbled in the dust,
|
333 |
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Of self-sufficient righteousness my Soul
|
334 |
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Disclaims, abhors, with Reprobation full,
|
335 |
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The slightest apprehension!--Worthless, Lord,
|
336 |
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Even of the meanest Crumb beneath thy Board.
|
337 |
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Blest be thy Mercy, that, so far from due,
|
338 |
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I own thy Bounties, manifold and rich,
|
339 |
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Upon my Soul have laid a Debt so deep,
|
340 |
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That I can never pay!--And oh! I feel
|
341 |
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Compunction inexpressible, to think
|
342 |
|
How I have us'd those Bounties! Sackcloth-clad,
|
343 |
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And cover'd o'er with ashes, I deplore
|
344 |
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My utter worthlessness; and trembling own,
|
345 |
|
Thy Wrath and just Displeasure well might sink
|
346 |
|
In deeper floods than these, that o'er my head
|
347 |
|
Roar horrible,--in fiery floods of woe,
|
348 |
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That know nor end nor respite! But, my God,
|
349 |
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Blest be thy Mercy ever! Thou'st not left
|
350 |
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My Soul to Desperation's dark dismay!
|
351 |
|
On Calvary's Hill my mourning eye discerns
|
352 |
|
With Faith's clear view, that Spectacle, which wipes
|
353 |
|
Each tear away, and bids the heart exult!
|
354 |
|
There hangs the Love of God! There hangs of Man
|
355 |
|
The Ransom; there the Merit; there the Cure
|
356 |
|
Of human Griefs--The Way, the Truth, the Life!
|
357 |
|
Oh Thou, for sin burnt-sacrifice complete!
|
358 |
|
Oh Thou, of holy Life th' exemplar bright!
|
359 |
|
Perfection's lucid Mirror! while to Thee
|
360 |
|
Repentance scarce dare lift her flowing eyes,
|
361 |
|
Though in his strong Arms manly Faith supports
|
362 |
|
The self-convicted mourner!--Let not Love,
|
363 |
|
Source of thy matchless Mercies, aught delay,
|
364 |
|
Like Mary, with Humility's meek hand
|
365 |
|
Her precious box of costly Nard to pour
|
366 |
|
On thy dear Feet, diffusing thro’ the House
|
367 |
|
The odour of her Unguents! Let not Love,
|
368 |
|
Looking with Gratitude's full Eye to Thee,
|
369 |
|
Cease with the hallow'd fragrance of her works
|
370 |
|
To cheer thy lowliest Members; to refresh
|
371 |
|
Thee in thy Saints afflicted! Let not Love
|
372 |
|
Cease with each spiritual Grace, each Temper mild,
|
373 |
|
Fruits of thy Holy Spirit,--to enrich,
|
374 |
|
To fill, perfume and sanctify the Soul,
|
375 |
|
Assimilate to Thee, sweet JESU! Thee
|
376 |
|
That Soul's immortal Habitant. How blest,
|
377 |
|
How beyond value rich the privilege,
|
378 |
|
To welcome such a Guest! How doubly blest
|
379 |
|
With such a signature,--the Royal Stamp
|
380 |
|
Of thy Resemblance, Prince of Righteousness,
|
381 |
|
Of Mercy, Peace and Truth! Oh more and more
|
382 |
|
Transform me to that Image! More and more,
|
383 |
|
Thou New Creation's Author, form, complete
|
384 |
|
In me the Birth divine; the heavenly Mind,
|
385 |
|
The Love consummate,--all-performing Love,
|
386 |
|
Which dwelt in Thee, its Pattern and its Source;
|
387 |
|
And is to Man, happy regenerate Man,
|
388 |
|
Heaven's surest Foretaste, and its Earnest too.
|
389 |
|
The thought delights and cheers, though not elates:
|
390 |
|
Through pensive Meditation's sable gloom
|
391 |
|
It darts a ray of soft, well-temper'd light,
|
392 |
|
A kind of lunar radiance on my Soul,
|
393 |
|
Gentle, not dazzling! Thou, who knowest all,
|
394 |
|
Know'st well, thrice gracious Master! that my heart
|
395 |
|
Attun'd to thy dear Love, howe'er seduc'd
|
396 |
|
By worldly adulation from its Vows,
|
397 |
|
And for a few contemptible, contemn'd
|
398 |
|
Unhappy moments faithless; well thou know'st
|
399 |
|
That Heart ne'er knew true Peace but in thy Love:
|
400 |
|
That Heart hath in thy Love known thorough Peace!
|
401 |
|
Hath frequent panted for that Love's full growth;
|
402 |
|
And sought occasions to display its Warmth
|
403 |
|
By Deeds of Kindness, mild Humanity,
|
404 |
|
And pitying Mercy to its Fellow-men!
|
405 |
|
And Thou hast blest me! and I will rejoice
|
406 |
|
That Thou hast blest me! Thou hast giv'n my Soul
|
407 |
|
The Luxury of Luxuries, to wipe
|
408 |
|
The tear from many an eye; to stop the groan
|
409 |
|
At many an aching heart. And Thou wilt wipe
|
410 |
|
The tears from mine, and Thou the groan repress:
|
411 |
|
And Thou--for oh, this beating Heart is thine,
|
412 |
|
Fram'd by thy Hand to Pity's quickest touch,--
|
413 |
|
Thou wilt forgive the Sinner; and bestow
|
414 |
|
Mercy, sweet Mercy! which, inspir'd by Thee,
|
415 |
|
He never had the power, and ne'er the Will
|
416 |
|
To hold from others, where he could bestow!
|
417 |
|
Shall he not then rest happily secure
|
418 |
|
Of Mercy, thrice blest Mercy from Mankind?
|
419 |
|
Where rests it?--Resignation's meek-eyed power
|
420 |
|
Sustain me still! Composure still be mine:
|
421 |
|
Where rests it?--Oh mysterious Providence!
|
422 |
|
Silence the wild idea:--I have found
|
423 |
|
No Mercy yet; no mild Humanity:
|
424 |
|
With cruel unrelenting rigour torn,
|
425 |
|
And, lost in Prison, wild to all below!
|
426 |
|
So from his daily toil returning late
|
427 |
|
O'er Grison's rugged mountains, clad in snow,
|
428 |
|
The Peasant with astonish'd eyes beholds
|
429 |
|
A gaunt Wolf, from the pine-grove howling rush!
|
430 |
|
Chill horror stiffens him, alike to fly
|
431 |
|
Unable, or resist: the monster feeds
|
432 |
|
Blood-happy, growling, on his quivering heart!
|
433 |
|
Mean while light blazes in his lonely Cot
|
434 |
|
The crackling hearth; his careful wife prepares
|
435 |
|
Her humble cates; and thro’ the lattic'd light
|
436 |
|
His little ones, expecting his return,
|
437 |
|
Peep, anxious! Ah, poor victim, he nor hearth
|
438 |
|
Bright blazing, nor the housewife's humble cates,
|
439 |
|
Nor much-lov'd children henceforth more shall see!
|
440 |
|
But soft: 'Tis calm Reflection's midnight hour;
|
441 |
|
'Tis the Soul's solemn inquest. Broods a thought
|
442 |
|
Resentful in thy bosom? Art thou yet,
|
443 |
|
Penitent Pilgrim on Earth's utmost Bourn,
|
444 |
|
And Candidate for Heaven,--art thou yet
|
445 |
|
In Love imperfect? and has Malice place,
|
446 |
|
With dark Revenge, and unforgiving Hate,
|
447 |
|
Hell's blackest offspring?--Glory to my God!
|
448 |
|
With triumph let me sing, and close my Strain!
|
449 |
|
Abhorrent ever from my earliest Youth
|
450 |
|
Of these detested passions, in this Hour,
|
451 |
|
This trying Hour of keen oppressive Grief,
|
452 |
|
My soul superior rises; nor of these
|
453 |
|
Malevolent, a touch, the slightest touch
|
454 |
|
Feels, or shall ever harbour! Tho' it feels
|
455 |
|
In all their amplitude, with all their weight,
|
456 |
|
Ungentlest treatment, and a load of woe;
|
457 |
|
Heavy as that, which fabling Poets lay
|
458 |
|
On proud Enceladus! Tho' life be drawn
|
459 |
|
By Cruelty's fierce hand down to the lees;
|
460 |
|
Yet can my heart, with all the truth of Prayer,
|
461 |
|
With all the fervour of sincere desire,
|
462 |
|
Looking at Thee, thou Love of God and Man!--
|
463 |
|
Yet can my heart in life or death implore,
|
464 |
|
"Father, forgive Them as Thou pitiest me!"
|
465 |
|
Oh, where's the wonder, when thy Cross is seen!
|
466 |
|
Oh, where's the wonder, when thy Voice is heard;
|
467 |
|
Harmonious intercession! Son of God.
|
468 |
|
Oh, where's the wonder--or the Merit where,
|
469 |
|
Or what's the Task to love-attuned souls--
|
470 |
|
Poor fellow-creatures pitying, to implore
|
471 |
|
Forgiveness for them? Oh forgive my foes!
|
472 |
|
Best friends, perchance, for they may bring to Thee!
|
473 |
|
--Complete forgiveness on them, God of Grace!
|
474 |
|
Complete forgiveness, in the dreadful hour,
|
475 |
|
When most they need forgiveness! And oh such
|
476 |
|
As, in that dreadful hour, my poor Heart wants,
|
477 |
|
And trusts, great Father! to receive from Thee,
|
478 |
|
Such full Forgiveness grant;--and my glad soul
|
479 |
|
Shall fold them then, my Brethren, in thy House!
|
480 |
|
Thus do I soothe, and while away with song
|
481 |
|
My lonely hours; in dread confinement past,
|
482 |
|
Like thee, oh gallant Raleigh!--or like thee,
|
483 |
|
My hapless Ancestor, fam'd Overbury!--
|
484 |
|
But Oh, in this how different is our fate!
|
485 |
|
Thou, to a vengeful Woman's subtle wiles
|
486 |
|
A hapless Victim fall'st; while my deep gloom,
|
487 |
|
Brighten'd by Female Virtue, and the light
|
488 |
|
Of conjugal affection--leads me oft,
|
489 |
|
Like the poor prison'd Linnet, to forget
|
490 |
|
Freedom, and tuneful Friends, and russet Heath,
|
491 |
|
Vocal with native melody; to swell
|
492 |
|
The feeble throat, and chaunt the lowly strain;
|
493 |
|
As in the season, when from spray to spray
|
494 |
|
Flew Liberty on light elastic wing.
|
495 |
|
She flies no more:--Be mute, my plaintive Lyre!
|
496 |
1. March 15, 1777
2. END of the SECOND WEEK
