""Twas from Philosophy man learned to tame "The soil by plenty to intemperance fed. "Lo! from the echoing axe, and thundering flame, "Poison and plague and yelling rage are fled.. "The waters, bursting from their slimy bed, 66 Bring health and melody to every vale: "And, from the breezy main and mountain's head "Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale, "To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale. "What dire necessities on every hand "Our art, our strength, our fortitude require! "Of foes intestine what a numerous band Against this little throb of life conspire! "Yet Science can elude their fatal ire "Awhile, and turn aside Death's levell'd dart, "Sooth the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire, "And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart, "And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart. "Nor less to regulate man's mortal frame "Science exerts her all-composing sway. "Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame, "Or pines to Indolence and Spleen a prey, "Or Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they? "Flee to the shades of Academus' grove; "Where cares molest not! discord melts away "In harmony, and the pure passions prove "How sweet the words of truth breath'd from the lips of love. "What cannot Art and Industry perform, "When Science plans! the progress of their toil! "They smile at penury, disease, and storm; "And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil. "When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil "A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage "Order transforms to anarchy and spoil, "Deep-vers'd in man the philosophic Sage "Prepares with lenient hand their phrenzy to assuage. "'Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind, "From situation, temper, soil, and clime Explor'd, a nation's various powers can bind "And various orders, in one Form sublime "Of polity, that, midst the wrecks of time, "Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear "Th' assault of foreign or domestic crime, "While public faith, and public love sincere, "And Industry and Law maintain their sway severe.” Enraptur'd by the Hermit's strain, the Youth Proceeds the path of Science to explore. And now, expanding to the beams of Truth, New energies, and charms unknown before, His mind discloses: Fancy now no more Wantons on fickle pinion thro' the skies; But, fix'd in aim, and conscious of her power, Sublime from cause to cause exults to rise, Creations blended stores arranging as she flies、 Nor love of novelty alone inspires, And Emulation's noble rage alarm, And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm. But she, who set on fire his infant heart, And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shar'd, And bless'd, the Muse, and her celestial art, Still claim the Enthusiast's fond and first regard. From Nature's beauties variously compar'd And variously combin'd, he learns to frame Those forms of bright perfection, which the Bard, While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame, Enamour'd consecrates to never-dying fame. Of late, with cumbersome, tho' pompous show, Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine, And clears the ambiguous phrase, and lops the unwieldy line. Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains) Fain would I sing, what transport storm'd his soul, Homer rais'd high to Heaven the loud th' impetuous song. And how his lyre, tho' rude her first essays, I fain would sing :-but ah! I strive in vain. Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, • Virgil. Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind!— He sleeps in dust.-Ah, how should I pursue My theme!-To heart-consuming grief resign'd, Here on his recent grave I fix my view, And pour my bitter tears.-Ye flowery lays, adieu ! Art thou, my G*******, for ever fled! When fortune's storms assail this weary head, No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers: Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. "Tis meet that I should mourn: flow forth afresh my tears. This excellent person died suddenly, on the 10th of February, 1773. The conclusion of the poem was written a few days after. THE GRAVE. The house appointed for all living. Job. WHILST some affect the sun, and some the shade, Some flee the city, some the hermitage, Their aims as various as the roads they take Was roll'd together, or had tried its beams And only serves to make thy night more irksome. See yonder hallow'd fane! the pious work |