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of song,

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Ordained to guide the embodied spirit For which we shunned and hated thee before. home,

840 Then we are free: then liberty like day From toilsome life to never-ending rest. Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires

heaven That give assurance of their own success, Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. And that, infused from Heaven, must A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not thither tend."

Till Thou hast touched them; 'tis the voice So reads he nature whom the lamp of truth Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterions Word ! A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works, 888 Which whoso sees, no longer wanders lost, Which he that hears it with a shout repeats, With intellects bemazed in endless doubt, And adds his rapture to the general praise. But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast | In that blest moment, Nature throwing built,

wide With means that were not till by thee em- Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile ployed,

The Author of her beauties, who, retired Worlds that had never been hadst Thou in Bebind his own creation, works unseen strength

By the impure, and hears bis power deBeen less, or less benevolent than strong.

nied. They are thy witnesses, who speak thy power Thou art the source and centre of all And goodness infinite, but speak in ears

minds, That hear not or receive not their report. Their only point of rest, Eternal Word! In vain thy creatures testify of thee From thee departing, they are lost and Till Thou proclaim thyseli. Theirs is indeed

At random without honour, hope, or peace. A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine From thee is all that soothes the life of That whom it teaches it makes prompt to

man, learn,

His high endeavour, and his glad success, And with the boon gives talents for its use. His strength to suffer, and his will to Till Thou art heard, imaginations vain Possess the heart, and fables false as hell, But oh, Thou bounteous Giver of all good! Yet deemed oracular, lure down to death Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown! The uninformed and heedless souls of men. Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are We give to Chance, blind Chance, our

poor; selves as blind,

And with Thee rich, take that Thou wilt The glory of thy work, which yet appears

away. Perfect and unimpeachable of blame, Challenging human scrutiny, and proved Then skilful most when most severely judged.

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF Bat Chance is not; or is not where Thou

JOHN GILPIN reignest:

870 Thy Providence forbids that fickle power

SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN (If power she be that works but to con

HE INTENDED AND CAME SAFE found) To mix the wild vagaries with thy laws.

(Publ. 1783]
Yet thus we dote, refusing, while we can
Instruction, and inventing to ourselves JOAN GILPIN was a citizen
Gods such as guilt makes welcome; gods

Of credit and renown,
that sleep,

A train-band captain eke was he
Or disregard our follies, or that sit

Of famous London town.
Amused spectators of this bustling stage.
Thee we reject, unable to abide

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, Thy purity, till pure as Thou art pure, 880 Though wedded we have been Made snch by thee, we love thee for that These twice ten tedious years, yet we

No holiday have seen.

serve.

HOME AGAIN

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Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw

Her husband posting down Into the country far away,

She pulled out half-a-crown; And thus unto the youth she said

That drove them to the Bell, “ This shall be yours, when you bring

back My husband safe and well.”

320

THE GIFT OF MY COUSIN, ANN BODHAM

(Publ. 1798] On that those lips had language ! Life has

passed With me but roughly since I heard thee

last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile

I

see, The same that oft in childhood solaced

me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, “Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears The meek intelligence of those dear eyes (Blessed be the art that can immortalize, The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim To quench it) here shines on me still the

same.

The youth did ride, and soon did meet

John coming back amain : Whom in a trice he tried to stop,

By catching at his rein ;

away!”

But not performing what he meant,

And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more,

And made him faster run.

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Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 'Tis now become a history little known, O welcome guest, though unexpected here ! That once we called the pastoral house our Who bidst me honour with an artless song, Affectionate, a mother lost so long,

Short-lived possession ! but the record fair I will obey, not willingly alone,

That memory keeps, of all thy kindness But gladly, as the precept were her own :

there, And, while that face renews my filial grief, Still outlives many a storm that has effaced Fancy shall weave a charm for my relie A thousand other themes less deeply traced. Shall steep me in Elysian reverie,

Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, A momentary dream that thou art she. That thou mightst know me safe and warmly My mother! when I learnt that thou

laid ; wast dead,

Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I The biscuit, or confectionary plum ; shed ?

The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and Wretch even then, life's journey just be glowed ;

All this, and more endearing still than all, Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a Thy constant flow of love, that knew no kiss:

fall, Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and Ah, that maternal smile! It answers — Yes.

brakes I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, That humour interposed too often makes; I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,

All this still legible in memory's page, And, turning from my nursery window, And still to be so to my latest age, drew

Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 70 A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! Such honours to thee as my numbers may; But was it such ? - It was. Where thou Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,

Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.

here. May I but meet thee on that peaceful Could Time, his flight reversed, restore shore,

the hours, The parting word shall pass my lips no When, playing with thy vesture's tissued more !

flowers, Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my The violet, the pink, and jessamine, concern,

I pricked them into paper with a pin Oft

gave me promise of thy quick return. (And thou wast happier than myself the What ardently I wished I long believed,

while, And, disappointed still, was still deceived. Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my

head By expectation every day beguiled,

and smile), Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. Could those few pleasant days again apThus many a sad to-morrow came and

pear, went,

Might one wish bring them, would I wish Till, all my stock of infant sorrow pent,

them here? I learnt at last submission to my lot; I would not trust my heart- the dear deBut, though I less deplored thee, ne'er for- light got.

Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. — Where once we dwelt our name is heard

- what here we call our life is no more,

such Children not thine have trod my nursery

So little to be loved, and thou so much, floor;

That I should ill requite thee to constrain And where the gardener Robin, day by day, Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. Drew me to school along the public way, Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's Delighted with my bauble coach, and

coast wrapped

(The storms all weathered and the ocean In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped, crossed)

art gone

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