Part 11 (2/2)

”Must we, with fruitless labour, strive, ”In misery worse than death to live!

”No. Be the smaller ill our choice: ”So dictates Nature's powerful voice.

”Death's pang will in a moment cease; ”And then, All hail, eternal peace!”

Thus while he spoke, his words impart The dire resolve to every heart.

A distant lake in prospect lay, That, glittering in the solar ray, Gleamed through the dusky trees, and shot A trembling light along the grot.

Thither with one consent they bend, Their sorrows with their lives to end; While each, in thought, already hears The water hissing in his ears, Fast by the margin of the lake, Concealed within a th.o.r.n.y brake, A linnet sate, whose careless lay Amused the solitary day.

Careless he sung, for on his breast Sorrow no lasting trace impressed; When suddenly he heard a sound Of swift feet traversing the ground.

Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies, Thence, trembling, casts around his eyes; No foe appeared, his fears were vain; Pleased, he renews the sprightly strain.

The hares, whose noise had caused his fright, Saw, with surprise, the linnet's flight.

Is there on earth a wretch, they said, Whom our approach can strike with dread?

An instantaneous change of thought To tumult every bosom wrought.

So fares the system-building sage, Who, plodding on from youth to age, At last, on some foundation-dream, Has reared aloft his goodly scheme, And proved his predecessors fools, And bound all nature by his rules; So fares he, in that dreadful hour, When injured truth exerts her power, Some new phenomenon to raise; Which, bursting on his frighted gaze, From its proud summit to the ground, Proves the whole edifice unsound.

”Children,” thus spake a hare sedate, Who oft had known the extremes of Fate, ”In slight events the attentive mind ”May hints of good instruction find.

”That our condition is the worst, ”And we with such misfortunes cursed ”As all comparison defy, ”Was late the universal cry.

”When, lo! an accident so slight, ”As yonder little linnet's flight, ”Has made your stubborn hearts confess ”(So your amazement bids me guess) ”That all our load of woes and fears ”Is but a part of what he bears.

”Where can he rest secure from harms, ”Whom even a helpless hare alarms?

”Yet he repines not at his lot; ”When past, his dangers are forgot: ”On yonder bough he trims his wings, ”And with unusual rapture sings; ”While we, less wretched, sink beneath ”Our lighter ills, and rush to death.

”No more of this unmeaning rage, ”But hear, my friends, the word of age: ”When, by the winds of autumn driven, ”The scattered clouds fly cross the heaven, ”Oft have we, from some mountain's head, ”Beheld the alternate light and shade ”Sweep the long vale. Here, hovering, lowers ”The shadowy cloud; there, downward pours, ”Streaming direct, a flood of day, ”Which from the view flies swift away; ”It flies, while other shades advance, ”And other streaks of suns.h.i.+ne glance.

”Thus chequered is the life below ”With gleams of joy, and clouds of woe.

”Then hope not, while we journey on, ”Still to be basking in the sun; ”Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn, ”That suns.h.i.+ne will no more return.

”If, by your terrors overcome, ”Ye fly before the approaching gloom, ”The rapid clouds your flight pursue, ”And darkness still o'ercasts your view.

”Who longs to reach the radiant plain, ”Must onward urge his course amain; ”For doubly swift the shadow flies, ”When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies.

”At least be firm, and undismayed ”Maintain your ground; the fleeting shade, ”Erelong, spontaneous glides away, ”And gives you back the enlivening ray.

”Lo! while I speak, our danger past!

”No more the shrill horn's angry blast ”Howls in our ear; the savage roar ”Of war and murder is no more.

”Then s.n.a.t.c.h the hour that Fate allows, ”Nor think of past and future woes.”

He spoke; and hope revives; the lake That instant, one and all forsake, In sweet amus.e.m.e.nt to employ The present sprightly hour of joy.

Now, from the western mountain's brow, Compa.s.sed with clouds of various glow, The sun a broader orb displays, And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.

The lawn a.s.sumes a fresher green, And dew-drops spangle all the scene.

The balmy zephyr breathes along, The shepherd sings his tender song.

With all their lays the groves resound, And falling waters murmur round; Discord and care were put to flight, And all was peace, and calm delight.

EPITAPH: BEING PART OF AN INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT TO BE ERECTED BY A GENTLEMAN TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LADY.

Farewell, my best beloved! whose heavenly mind Genius with virtue, strength with softness, joined; Devotion, undebased by pride or art, With meek simplicity, and joy of heart; Though sprightly, gentle; though polite, sincere; And only of thyself a judge severe; Unblamed, unequalled, in each sphere of life, The tenderest Daughter, Sister, Parent, Wife.

In thee their patroness the afflicted lost; Thy friends, their pattern, ornament, and boast; And I----but, ah! can words my loss declare, Or paint the extremes of transport and despair?

O Thou, beyond what verse or speech can tell, My guide, my friend, my best-beloved, farewell!

ODE ON LORD HAY'S BIRTH-DAY.

13TH MAY, 1767.

A muse, unskilled in venal praise, Unstained with flattery's art; Who loves simplicity of lays Breathed ardent from the heart; While grat.i.tude and joy inspire, Resumes the long-unpractised lyre, To hail, O HAY, thy natal Morn; No gaudy wreath of flowers she weaves, But twines with oak the laurel leaves, Thy cradle to adorn.

For, not on beds of gaudy flowers Thine ancestors reclined, Where sloth dissolves, and spleen devours, All energy of mind; To hurl the dart, to ride the car, To stem the deluges of war, And s.n.a.t.c.h from Fate a sinking land; Trample the invader's lofty crest, And from his grasp the dagger wrest, And desolating brand:

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