Thomson.

Thomson.

S. B. III. S. 267. Unmöglich kann ich hier die herrliche Hymne übergehen, womit dieser treffliche Dichter sein großes Gemahlde der Jahrszeiten vollendete, ob sie gleich nicht die dußere lyrische Form hat, und auch in ihr das herrschende mahlerische Talent dieses Dichters am meis ften hervorleuchtet. Aber wie mächtig weiß er auch hier, wie überall, durch die Phantasie aufs Gefühl zu wirken, und dieses durch jene zu befeuern! Unter feinen vermischten Gedichten ist auch eine schöne Hymne auf die Einsamkeit.

A HYM N.

THESE, *) as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER
thefe,

Are but the varied GOD. The rolling Year
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleafing Spring
THY Beauty walks, THY Tenderness and Love.
Wide-flufh the fields; the foftening Air is Balm;
Echo the Mountains round; the Foreft fmiles;
And every Senfe, and every Heart is Joy.
Then comes THY Glory in the Summer-Months,
With Light and Heat refulgent. Then THY Sun
Shoots full Perfection thro the fwelling Year:
And oft THY Voice in dreadful Thunder speaks;
And oft at Dawn, deep Noon, or falling Eve,
By Brooks and Groves, in hollow-whispering Gales
THY Bounty fhines in Autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common Feast for all that lives.
In Winter awful THOU! with Clouds and Storms
Around THEE thrown, Tempeft o'er Tempeft roll'd
Majeftic Darknefs! on the Whirlwind's Wing.
Riding fublime, THOU bidft the World adore,
And humbleft Nature with тHY northern Blaft.

M 4

*) The four Seasons.

MYSTE

Prior.

MYSTERIOUS Round! what Skill, what Force di-
vine,

Deep-felt, in These appear! a fimple Train,
Yet fo delightful mix'd, with fuch kind Art,
Such Beauty and Beneficence combin'd;
Shade, unperceiv'd, fo foftening into Shade;
And all fo forming an harmonious Whole;
That, as they still fucceed, they ravish still.
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious Gaze,
Man marks not THEE, marks not the mighty Hand,
That, ever-bufy, wheels the filent Spheres;

Works in the fecret Deep; fhoots, fteaming, then

ce

The fair Profufion that o'erfpreads the Spring:
Flings from the Sun direct the flaming Day;
Feeds every Creature; hurls the Tempest forth;
And, as on Earth this grateful Change revolves,
With Transport touches all the Springs of Life.

NATURE, attend! join every living Soul,
Beneath the fpacious Temple of the Sky,
In Adoration join; and, ardent, raise
One general Song! TO HIM, ye vocal Gales,
Breathe foft, whofe SPIRIT in your Freshness brea-
thes:

Oh talk of HIM in folitary Glooms!

Where, o'er the Rock, the scarcely-waving Pine
Fills the brown Shade with a religious Awe.
And ye, whofe bolder Note is heard afar,

Who fhake th' aftonifh'd World, lift high to Hea

ven

Th' impetuous Song, and fay from whom you

rage.

HIS Praise, ye Brooks, attune, ye trembling Rills;
And let me catch it as I mufe along.

Ye headlong Torrents, rapid, and profound;
Ye fofter Floods, that lead the humid Maze
Along the Vale; and thou, majestic Main,
A fecret World of Wonders in thyself,
Sound His ftupendous Praife; whole greater Voice

Or

Or bids you roar, or bids your Roarings fall;
Soft-roll your Incense, Herbs, and Fruits, and Flow-

ers,

In mingled Clouds to HIM; whofe Sun exalts,
Whofe Breath perfumes you, and whofe Pencil
paints.

Ye Forests bend, ye Harvests wave, to HIM;
Breathe your still Song into the Reaper's Heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous Moon.
Ye that keep watch in Heaven, as Earth afleep
Unconscious lies, effufe your mildest Beams,
Ye Constellations, while your Angels ftrike,
Amid the fpangled Sky, the filver Lyre,
Great Source of Day! beft Image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,

From World to World, the vital Ocean round,
On Nature write with every Beam HIS Praise.
The Thunder rolls: be hufh'd the proftrate World;
While Cloud to Cloud returns the folemn Hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye Hills: ye moffy Rocks,
Retain the Sound: the broad refponfive Low,
Ye vallays, mife; for the GREAT SHEPHERD reigns;
And his unfuffering Kingdom yet will come.
Ye Woodlands all, awake: a boundless Song
Burft from the Groves; and when the reftlefs Day,
Expiring, lays the warbling World asleep,
Sweeteft of Birds! fweet Philomela, charm
The liftening Shades, and teach the Night HI
Praife.

Ye chief, for whom the whole Creation fmiles;
At once the Head, the Heart, and Tongue of all,
Crown the great Hymn! in swarming Cities vast,
Affembled Men, to the deep Organ join

The long-refounding Voice, oft-breaking clear,
At fotemn Pauses, thro the fwelling Bale;
And, as each mingling Flame increases each,
In one united Ardor rife to Heaven.
Or if you rather chufe the rural Shade,
And find a Fame in every facred Grove;

There let the Shepherd's Flute, the Virgin's Lay,

Prior.

Prior.

The prompting Seraph, and the Poet's Lyre,
Still fing the GOD OF SEASONS, as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling Theme,
Whether the Bloffom blows, the Summer-Ray
Ruffets the Plain, infpiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rifes in the blackening East;

Be my Tongue mute, may Fancy paint no more,
And, dead to Joy, forget my Heart to beat!

SHOULD Fate command me to the farthest Verge
Of the green Earth, to diftant barbarous Climes,
Rivers unknown to Song, where first the Sun
Gilds Indian Mountains, or his setting Beam
Flames on th' Atlantic Isles; 'tis nought to me:
Since GOD is ever prefent, ever felt,

In the void Wafte as in the City full;
And where HE vital spreads there must be Joy.
When even at laft the folemn Hour fhall come,
And wing my myftic Flight to future Worlds,
I chearfull will obey, There, with new Powers,
Will rifing Wonders fing: I cannot go
Where UNIVERSAL Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon Orbs and all their Sons,
From feeming Evil ftill educing Good,
And Better thence again, and Better ftill,
In infinite Progreffion - But I lofe
Myfelf in HIM, in LIGHT INEFFable!

Come then, expreifive Silence, mufe HIS Praise.

Aken

Aken side.

B. II. S. 321 ff. haben wir in ihm einen der schäßbars ften didaktischen Dichter kennen lernen; aber auch in der lys rischen Gattung zeichnet er sich sehr vortheilhaft aus. Dr. Johnson, der ihm dieß Verdienst im Allgemeinen zugefteht, tadelt zwar an seinen Oden den Mangel an Stärke, Natur und Neuheit; die Sprache derselben scheint ihm zuweilen hart und ungefällig zu seyn; den Strophenbau erklärt er für übel geordnet und unangenehm, die Reime für mißklingend, ungeschickt vertheilt und zu weit von einander entfernt; und ganz find fie schwerlich von diesem Tadel frei zu sprechen. Auch selbst in folgendem, an Schönheiten gewiß nicht armen, Gedichte ist dieß zuweilen der Fall; es gehört überhaupt wohl mehr zur beschreibenden als lyrischen Gattung; und ich würde die Hymne an die Najaden in dessen Stelle gewählt haben, wenn mich ihre Länge nicht anders bestimmt hatte.

HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS.

Akenside.

How thick the fhades of ev'ning close!
How pale the fky with weight of fnows!
Hafte, light the tapers, urge the fire,
And bid the joyless day retire!

Alas! in vain I try within

To brighten the dejected fcene;

While rous'd by grief these fiery pains
Tear the frail texture of my veins,
While Winter's voice that ftorms around,
And yon' deep dead-bell's groaning found,
Renew my mind's oppreffive gloom
Till starting Horrour 1hakes the room.

Is there in Nature no kind pow'r
To footh Affliction's lonely hour?
To blunt the edge of dire difeafe,
And teach these wintry fhades to please?

Come