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Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, waves in the eye of Heaven her many-coloured wings.
“The verse adorn again fierce War, and faithful Love, and Truth severe, by fairy Fiction dressed; in buskined measures, move pale Grief and pleasing
Pain, with Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. Listening with A voice, as of the cherub-choir, gales from blooming
Eden bear; and distant warblings lessen on my ear, Contempt that lost in long futurity expire. —Fond, impious
man! think'st thou yon sanguine cloud, raised by Joyous reply thy breath, has quenched theorb of day? To-morrow
he repairs the golden flood, and warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me: with joy I
see the different doom our fates assign! Be thine Satisfaction Despair, and sceptred Care; to triumph, and to die, Descriptive
are mine!"- -He spoke; and, headlong, from the mountain's height, deep in the roaring tide he plunged—to endless night.
XIX.—THE LAST MAN. - Campbell. Descriptive All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, the sun
himself must die, before this mortal shall assume its
immortality! I saw a vision in my sleep, that gave Solemnity my spirit strength to sweep adown the gulf of Time! Plaintively I saw the last of human mould—thatshall Creation's
death behold, as Adam saw her prime! The Sun's description
eye had a sickly glare, the earth with age was wan; the skeletons of nations were around that lonely man!
Some had expired in fight,—the brands still rusted in their bony hands; in plague and famine
Earth's cities had no sound or tread ; and
ships were drifting with the dead to shores where Dignified
all was dumb. Yet, prophet-like, that Lone One solemnity
stood, with dauntless words and high, that shook the
sere leaves from the wood as if a storm passed byPlaintively saying,—“We are twins in death, proud Sun! thy face is cold, thy race is
run, for thou ten thousand thousand years hast seen the tide of human tears—that shall no longer flow.
What though beneath thee, man put forth his pomp, remembrance his pride, his skill; and arts that made fire, flood, 1 Disclaiming
and earth, the vassals of his will ?—yet mourn I
bids thee go;
not thy parted sway, thou dim, discrowned king of day : for, all those trophied arts and triumphs, that Disappointbeneath thee sprang, healed not a passion or a pang entailed on human hearts. Go! let oblivion's curtain fall upon the stage of men ! nor with thy rising beams recall life's tragedy again! Its piteous pageants bring not back, nor waken flesh
the Piteous rack of pain anew to writhe; stretched in disease's shapes abhorred, or mown in battle by the sword like grass beneath the scythe! Even I am weary Anguish in yon skies to watch thy fading fire: test of all sumless agonies, behold not me expire! My lips that speak thy dirge of death—their rounded gasp Solemn joy and gurgling breath to see, thou shalt not boast; the eclipse of Nature spreads my pall, the majesty of Darkness shall receive my parting ghost! This Awe spirit shall return to Him who gave its heavenly spark; yet think not, Sun! it shall be dim, when Disclaiming thou thyself art dark! No! it shall live again, and Ardour shine in bliss unknown to beams of thine : by Him recalled to breath, who captive led Captivity, who Triumphant robbed the Grave of victory, and took the sting from Death! Go, Sun! while Mercy holds me up, Solemnly on Nature's awful waste, to drink this last and Anguish bitter cup of grief that man shall taste :-go! tell the night that hides thy face, thou saw'st the last of Undaunted Adam's race, on earth’s sepulchral clod, the darkening universe defy, to quench his Immortality, or Veneration shake his trust in God!
XX.-THE PASSIONS.—Collins. (A general imitation of the various passions to be observed throughout.) WHEN Music (heavenly maid!) was young, ere yet in earliest Greece she sung, the Passions, oft, to hear her shell, thronged around her magic cell; exulting,—trembling ;-raging, fainting ;—possessed, beyond the Muse's painting. By turns, they felt the glowing
mind disturbed,-delighted, -raised, refined; till once, 'tis said, when all were fired, filled with fury, rapt, inspired, from the supporting myrtles round they 'snatched her instruments of sound; and, as they oft had heard, apart, sweet lessons of her forceful art, each—for madness ruled the hour—would prove his own expressive power.
First, Fear-his hand, its skill to try, amid the chords bewildered laid—and back recoiled-he knew not why :-even at the sound himself had made!
Next Anger rushed, his eyes on fire; in lightnings owned his secret stings; with one rude clash he struck the lyre, and swept, with hurried hands, the strings.
With woeful measures, wan Despair:-low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled ; a solemn, strange, and mingled air; 'twas sad, by fits-by starts, 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair, what was thy delighted measure! still it whispered promised pleasure, and bade the lovely scenes at distance * Hail!" Still would her touch the strain prolong; and, from the rocks, the woods, the vale, she called on Echo, still, through all her song; and, where her sweetest theme she chose, a soft, responsive voice was heard at every close!-and Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair!
And longer had she sung—but, with a frown, Revenge impatient rose : he threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down; and, with a withering look, the war-denouncing trumpet took, and blew a blast-so loud and dread, were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe: and ever and anon, he beat the doubling drum, with furious heat. And though, sometimes, each dreary pause between, dejected Pity, at his side, her soul-subduing voice applied, yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien; while each strained ball of sight-seemed bursting from his head.
Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fixed; sad proof of thy distressful state! of differing themes the veering, song was mixed: and now, it courted Love—now, raving, called on Hate.
With eyes upraised, as one inspired, pale Melancholy sat retired; and, from her wild, sequestered seat, in notes by distance made more sweet, poured, through the mellow horn, her pensive soul; and, dashing soft, from rocks around, bubbling runnels joined the sound. Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole; or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay-round a holy calm diffusing, love of peace and lonely musing—in hollow murmurs died away.
But, oh, how altered was its sprightlier tone, when Cheerfulness-a nymph of healthiest hue, her bow across her shoulder flung, her buskins gemmed with morning dew,-blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung; the hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. The oak-crowned Sisters, and their chaste-eyed Queen, Satyrs, and Sylvan Boys, were seen peeping from forth their alleys green: brown Exercise rejoiced to hear; and Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear.
Last, came Joy's ecstatic trial: he, with viny crown advanc
ing, first to the lively pipe his hand addressed; but soon he saw the brisk awakening viol, whose sweet, entrancing voice he loved the best. They would have thought, who heard the strain, they saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, amid the festal-sounding shades to some unwearied minstrel dancing: while, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love framed, with Mirth, a gay, fantastic round;-loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound;—and he, amidst his frolic play, as if he would the charming air repay, shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
XXI.-SATAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.-Milton. O THOU! that, with surpassing glory crowned, look’st from thy sole dominion, like the god of this new world !—at whose sight all the stars hide their diminished heads !-to thee I call, but with no friendly voice, and add thy name, O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, that bring to my remembrance from what state I fell; how glorious once-above thy spheretill pride, and worse, ambition, threw me down, warring in heaven against heaven's matchless King! Ah! wherefore? He deserved no such return from me, whom He created what I was in that bright eminence; and with His good upbraided none; nor was His service hard. What could be less than to afford Him praise, (the easiest recompense !) and pay Him thanks, how due ! Yet, all His good proved ill in me, and wrought but malice ! lifted up so high, I ’sdained subjection, and thought one step higher would set me highest, and in a moment quit the debt immense of endless gratitude, so burdensome-still paying, still to owe! Forgetful what
from Him I still received; and understood not that a grateful mind by owing owes not, but still pays; at once indebted and discharged ;-what burden then? Oh! had His powerful destiny ordained me some inferior angel, I had stood then happy; no unbounded hope had raised ambition ! Yet, why not? some other power as great, might have aspired; and me, though mean, drawn to his part: but other powers as great fell not, but stand unshaken; from within or from without, to all temptations armed. Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand ? Thou hadst. Whom hast thou then, or what, to accuse- --but Heaven's free love, dealt equally to all ? Be then His love accursed! since, love or hate, (to me alike,) it deals eternal woe! Nay, cursed be thou! since, against His, thy will chose freely, what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell! myself am hell! and, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, still threatening to devour me, opens wide, to which the hell I suffer seems a heaven! Oh, then, at last relent! Is there no place left for repentance ? none for pardon left? none left—but by submission !—and that word disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame among the spirits beneath; whom I seduced with other promises, and other vaunts, than to submit, boasting I could subdue—the Omnipotent! Ah me! they little know how dearly I abide that boast so vain ; under what torments inwardly I groan, while they adore me on the throne of hell. With diadem and sceptre high advanced, the lower still I fallonly supreme in misery! Such joy ambition finds! But
say I could repent, and could obtain, by act of grace, my former state; how soon would height recall high thoughts! how soon unsay what feigned submission swore! Ease would recant vows made in pain, as violent and void;—for never can true reconcilement grow, where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep;—which would but lead me to a worse relapse and heavier fall: so should I purchase dear short intermission—bought with double smart! This knows my Punisher; therefore as far from granting, He-as I from begging, peace! All hope excluded thus, behold,-instead of us, outcast! exiled! -his new delight, Mankind, created, and for him this world. So, farewell hope! and, with hope, farewell fear! Farewell remorse! all good to me is lost; Evil
, be thou my good! by thee, at least divided empire with heaven's King I hold; by thee, and more than half perhaps, will reign-as man ere long, and this new world, shall know!
XXII.-ON THE BEING OF A GOD.Dr. Young. RETIRE ;-the world shut out;—thy thoughts call home! Imagination's airy wing repress ; lock up thy senses-let no passion stir--wake all to Reason, let her reign alone: then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth of Nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire, as I have done, and shall inquire no more. In Nature's channel, thus the questions run.
What am I? and from whence ?-I nothing know, but that I am; and, since I am, conclude something eternal. Had there e'er been nought, nought still had been: eternal there must be. But what eternal? Why not human race; and Adam's ancestors without an end ?--That's hard to be con