Part 8 (2/2)
At G.o.d's command the vital spirit fled, And thou, my Brother! slumber'st with the dead.
Alas! how art thou changed! I scarcely dare To gaze on thee;--dread sight! death, death is there.
How does thy loss o'erwhelm my heart with grief!
But tears, kind nature's tears afford relief.
Reluctant, sad, I take my last farewell:-- Thy virtues in my mind shall ever dwell; Thy tender friends.h.i.+p felt so long for me, Thy frankness, truth, thy generosity, Thy tuneful tongue's persuasive eloquence, Thy science, learning, taste, wit, common sense, Thy patriot love of genuine liberty, Thy heart o'erflowing with philanthropy; And chiefly will I strive henceforth to feel Thy firm religious faith and pious zeal, Enlighten'd, liberal, free from bigotry, And, that prime excellence, thy charity.
Farewell!--for ever?--no! forbid it, Heaven!
A glorious promise is to Christians given; Though parted in this world of sin and pain, On high, my Brother! we shall meet again.
LINES TO AN INFIDEL, AFTER HAVING READ HIS BOOK AGAINST CHRISTIANITY.
Your book I've read: I would that I had not!
For what instruction, pleasure, have I got?
Amid that artful labyrinth of doubt Long, long I wander'd, striving to get out; Your thread of sophistry, my only clue, I fondly hoped would guide me rightly through: That spider's web entangled me the more: With desperate courage onward still I went, Until my head was turn'd, my patience spent: Now, now, at last, thank G.o.d! the task is o'er.
I've been a child, who whirls himself about, Fancying he sees both earth and heaven turn round; Till giddy, panting, sick, and wearied out, He falls, and rues his folly on the ground.
LINES
ON HEARING A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, WHO IS BOTH LAME AND BLIND, BUT IN OTHER RESPECTS VERY HANDSOME, SING AND PLAY ON HIS VIOLIN FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Crippled his limbs, and sightless are his eyes; I view the youth, and feel compa.s.sion rise.
He sings! how sweet the notes! in pleased amaze I listen,--listen, and admiring gaze.
Still, as he catches inspiration's fire, Sweeping with bolder hands the obedient strings, That mix, harmonious, with the strains he sings, He pours into the music all his soul, And governs mine with strong, but soft controul: Raptured I glow, and more and more admire.
His mortal ailments I no longer see; But, of divinities my fancy dreams; Blind was the enchanting G.o.d of soft desire; And lame the powerful Deity of fire; His bow the magic rod of Hermes seems; And in his voice I hear the G.o.d of harmony.
LINES TO A PEDANTIC CRITIC.
Critic! should I vouchsafe to learn of thee, Correct, no doubt, but cold my strains would be: Now, cold correctness!--I despise the name; Is that a pa.s.sport through the gates of fame?
Thy pedant rules with care I studied once; Was I made wiser, or a greater dunce?
Hence, Critic, hence! I'll study them no more; My eyes are open'd, and the folly's o'er.
When Genius opes the floodgates of the soul, Fancy's outbursting tides impetuous roll, Onward they rush with unresisted sway, } Sweeping fools, pedants, critics, all away } Who would with obstacles their progress stay. } As mighty Ocean bids his waves comply With the great luminaries of the sky, So Genius, to direct his course aright, Owns but one guide, the inspiring G.o.d of light.
LINES ON SHAKSPEARE.
(SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN NEAR HIS TOMB.)
Behold! this marble tablet bears inscribed The name of Shakspeare!-- What a glorious theme For never-ending praise! His drama's page, Like a clear mirror, to our wondering view Displays the living image of the world, And all the different characters of men: Still, in the varying scenes, or sad, or gay, We take a part; we weep; we laugh; we feel All the strong sympathies of real life.
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