Part 26 (1/2)

Beneath that banner, what exploit Can mount our glory higher, Than to sustain the dreadful blow, When those we love expire?

Go forth a moral Amazon; Arm'd with undaunted thought; The battle won, though costing dear, You'll think it cheaply bought:

The pa.s.sive hero, who sits down Unactive, and can smile Beneath affliction's galling load, Out-acts a Caesar's toil:

The billows stain'd by slaughter'd foes Inferior praise afford; Reason's a bloodless conqueror, More glorious than the sword.

Nor can the thunders of huzzas, From shouting nations, cause Such sweet delight, as from your heart Soft whispers of applause:

The dear deceas'd so fam'd in arms, With what delight he'll view His triumphs on the main outdone, Thus conquer'd, twice, by you.

Share his delight; take heed to shun Of bosoms most diseas'd That odd distemper, an absurd Reluctance to be pleas'd:

Some seem in love with sorrow's charms, And that foul fiend embrace: This temper let me justly brand, And stamp it with disgrace:

Sorrow! of horrid parentage!

Thou second-born of h.e.l.l!

Against heaven's endless mercies pour'd How dar'st thou to rebel?

From black and noxious vapours bred, And nurs'd by want of thought, And to the door of phrensy's self By perseverance brought,

Thy most inglorious, coward tears From brutal eyes have ran: Smiles, incommunicable smiles!

Are radiant marks of man;

They cast a sudden glory round Th' illumin'd human face; And light in sons of honest joy Some beams of Moses' face:

Is resignation's lesson hard?

Examine, we shall find That duty gives up little more Than anguish of the mind;

Resign; and all the load of life That moment you remove, Its heavy tax, ten thousand cares Devolve on one above;

Who bids us lay our burthen down On his almighty hand, Softens our duty to relief, To blessing a command.

For joy what cause! how every sense Is courted from above The year around, with presents rich, The growth of endless love!

But most o'erlook the blessings pour'd, Forget the wonders done, And terminate, wrapp'd up in sense, Their prospect at the sun;

From that, their final point of view, From that their radiant goal, On travel infinite of thought, Sets out the n.o.bler soul,

Broke loose from time's tenacious ties, And earth's involving gloom, To range at last its vast domain, And talk with worlds to come:

They let unmark'd, and unemploy'd, Life's idle moments run; And doing nothing for themselves, Imagine nothing done;

Fatal mistake! their fate goes on, Their dread account proceeds, And their not doing is set down Amongst their darkest deeds;

Though man sits still, and takes his ease; G.o.d is at work on man; No means, no moment unemployed, To bless him, if he can.

But man consents not, boldly bent To fas.h.i.+on his own fate; Man, a mere bungler in the trade, Repents his crime too late;

Hence loud laments: let me thy cause, Indulgent father! plead; Of all the wretches we deplore, Not one by thee was made.

What is thy whole creation fair?