MISCELLANEOUS

3P ® GE £M §I

BY J OHN BYROM,M . A. F. R. s.

i l l TIME FELLOW OF TR IN ITY COLLEG E, CAMBRIDG E,AND INVIN’I‘OR

OF THE UNIVERSAL ENG LISH SHORT- HAND.

To WIHCHARE ADDED HIS LIFE AND NOTES BY THE EDITOR

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VNDI A JL

LEEDS

P rinted by andfor J ames Nichols,

m sowm LONDON, Bv CRADOCR AND J OY, G ALE, CURTIS AND rENNEn,

AND BAYNm ; BY WILsoN AND SON, YORK ; J . CUMMING , DUBLIN ; J .AND J . ROBERTSON, EDINBURG H ; FORD, MANCHESTER ; KAYE,

J J VERP OOL ; HARTLEY, RCCRDALE ; TURNER, IIULL;

BLACKBURN, DARLING TON ; STANFIELD,

BRADFORD ; NICHOLSON, CAMBRIDG ESUGDEN, HALIFAX ; AND OTHER.

BooxsnLLERs.

1814.

ENTERED A'

l‘STATIONERS’

HALL

P R E F A C E .

THE publication of the following sheets is in compliance

with the request ofmany of Mr. Byrom’

s friends, who were

m uch pleased with some of his poetical cornpositions, which

had casually circulated in his life- time . .Much might here be

said of the author’

s learned and poetical talents ; but it does

not_seem to be the business of an editor to endeavour to an

ticipate the reader’

s judgmen t. By its own in trin sic worth,

an d the ca n did np in lu n of" th e p ublic, the following work il

lefl; to stand or fall.

A deference due to the publicmay, however,make it neces

sary to assure them, that the poem s here presented, are the

genuine production ofMr. Byromu They are carefully tram:scribed from his own manuscripts ; but as many ofthem were

written rather for private than for public perusal, it is hoped

that all favourable allowan ce will be made for small inaca

The reader may be surprized perhaps to find in these vo

lumes so many learned and critical question s discussed in

verse. This is indeed a singularity almost peculiar to our au

thor ; but he had so accustomed him self to the language of

poetry, that he always found it the easiest way of expressing

his sentiments upon all occasions. He himself used to give

this reason to his friends for treating such subjects in so nu

common a method ; and it is presumed, that, if they are not

found deficient in other respects, the novelty of the manner

willbe rather a recommendation than otherwise.

P REFACE .

At a time when party disputes are so happily subsided, it

may seem to want an apology, that in the following collection,some fewpieces are inserted, which appear to be tin ctured

with a party spirit. A smallattention however will con vince

the warmest partizan, that what Mr. Byrom has written If

this cast was intended to soften the asperity, and preven t the

nfischiefs of an over- heated seal. Since thiswas the author’s

chiefmotive for writing, it is imagined no other apology wil

be necessary for the publication of such pieces.

The great truths of Christianity had made, from his earlid

years, a deep impression upon the author’

s mind , an d as it

was his manner to commit his sentiments, of every kind, ts

m ; so hs had a peculiar pleasune in ernploying his put

upon serious subjects . To the purposes of instru ction , and

the interests of virtue, allhis abilities were ever made subm

per to solect such pieces as treat on subjects of a deeper dmore important nature. The reader, it is not doubted, willbe pleased to find that the author

’

s natural talent forwit and

humour, has se often given place to something more a

ADVERTISEMENT TO THIS EDITION.

I

THE Miscellaneous P oems” of the lateMr. B om had be

conwexceedingly scarce, and were in great request,w the editor

of these volumes was induced to undertake a republication of them.

Several of the author’s humourous verses, by being inserted in

germ collections of poetry, are very popular and generallymired. But others of his productions,

ous subj ects, have never yet received the general attention whichtheir excellence demands. Various have been the causes of thisneglect. The impression of the first edition in 1773 , was butm all; and its circulation was principally confined to the countiesdf Lancashire and Yorkshire. Veryfewof the poems were intended for publication ; they do not, therefore, possess that highand attractive polishwhich, under other circumstances , t mighthave been expected to exhibit. But the chief reason why is seri

pieces have not obtained the notice and publicity to whichthey are entitled, is the character of Mysticism,

which, beinmany persons another term for Heresy, has operated to lg

prqhdice of the author. He breathed too muchpietyfor the agein which he lived; and received the honourable appellation ofMystic, which was then bestowed on all who excelled nominal

christians in spirituality of doctrine and

This reproachwasfirst taken up against him

are and infidelphilosOphers and has been p

from one writer to another, each of whomabout that which theyundertook to condemn . It cannot be denied

that in an inconsiderable number of places, most of which are

pointed out in this edition , may be discovered a leaning in him

towards the opin ions of Mystic authors ; but these instances are soslight and infi equent, as scarcely to expose him to the charge ofbein

gone of their disciples . There is a manly and nervous style

- emp yed in allhis serious writings,which distinguishes them as

the works of one who was capable of executing high designs . A

great critic has said, that the beautifulpastoral of Colin and

P hebe is sufficient to procure Mr. Byrom a reputation in poe

try. Another has made an equally strong assertion respectingthe Verses on buying the picture ofFather Malebranche at a sale.And every pious man willfeel no hesitation in using a like ex

pression concerningj he beautifulHymn to J esus.

b

THE LIFE OF

severe as to discourage the attempts of meritorious individual!who are known to be capable of 1mpart1 valuab le in formation.

The writer of this sketch laments, ansthe reader will participate with him m the regret, that with all the requisite u

:lifications for being his own historian , Mr. Byrom has not

cured posteritywith any biographica l notice respecting himself.Had his own pen been employed in relatin some detached

portions of his chequered l1fe, which exte ed thro h theater part of an eventful century, his biography wo d have

fil

es-wed a degree of interest from that circumstance, wwhid it

cannot be expected to obtain when given , from spare materiall,by another person .

Mr. J ohn Byrom was born at Manchester, in the year 1691,being a younger son of Mr. Edward Byrom, Linen Draper, d

Kersall, in Lancashire. His father was a brand of an ancientand genteel flim ilym that coun ty. The subject ofthi s m emoirreceived the rudimen ts of his education at h e native town , andcom leted his reparatory studies at Merchant

o

Taylors'

Schoolndon, where he obtained a high reputation for classicall

erudition . Indeed his proficien in literature must have beenvery

co

respectable, since at the easly age ofsixteen he was deemcom

petent to en ter upon Un iversity studies. He was ac

cording y sent to Cambridge ; and admitted, on th

1708, a nsioner of Trin ity Col legege, under thefamous octor Baker. He ap lied himself very closely to theacquisition of Mathematical

phmowledge, without which no

candidate for University honours at Cambridge can hope to

succeed. He took his first degree of Bachelor of Arts with

great credit , and, in the year 1714, was elected Fellow of hisCollege through the in terest of Doctor Richard Bentley, themaster, who adm ired his genius and was an encourager d

‘

his

merit . To be a fellow of Trinity was accounted then , as it isnow, an extraordinary reward of talent. The high characterof

.

that College, second to none in the Un iversity, confers cele

git

hon every student in it whose well- tried abilities procure1m any public mark of respect.for

The same year, while m these sacred groves, he made hisfirst literary atterhpt, as author, by writing twoessays on dream in . They were inserted in the

(Numbers 586 an 593 ,Land have obtained great approba

the learned. e lays it down as an axiom , thatdreams are certain

lythe result of our w thoughts,

and our daily ho fears arewhat give the m such nimble relishes of satire andsevere touches of pain, in its mid

MR. J OHN BYRON .

~

night rambles.’

To go to bed with a m ind entirely free fi'om

passi on s, and a body clear of the least in temperance,”is the

protposes for inducing pleasan t and refreshing

oul have every one, in a m orning before he“use, to con sider what he had been about that n ight, andwith the same strictness as if the condition he has believed himself to be in , was real. Such a scrutiny into the actions of hisfancy must be of con siderable advantage, for this reason, be

cause the circumstances which a man imagines himself in , du

ring sleep, are generall such as entirely favour his inclinationsor bad, and give him imaginary opportuni ties of pursuingto the utmost; so that his temper will be fairly open to

his view, while he considers how it is moved, when free fromthose con straints which the accidents of real life at it under.

”

In one of his poem s, (vol. 1, page he has verted to thebenefit to be derived from this practice,

Ofmidnight thoughts to take no heed

Betrays a sleepy soul indeed ;It is but dreaming in the dayTo throw our nightly hours away.

Though the productions of a oung man, they discover and

a liveliness of imagination, an powers of conception and exe

cation, with such just aptitude of style to the subject, aswouldbe no di s ace to a veteran in literature.

Two agar papers (Numbers 587 and 597) in the sameMis

c ellany, are ascribed to him, but on doubtful authority.

From his earliest years he had indulged h1mso°

If in the com

of try.pit"t

iell I remember that my younger breastThe same desire. that reigns in yours, possess

’d.

Me,numbers flowing to ameasur’d time,

Me,sweetest grace of English verse, theRhyme,

Choice epithet, and smooth descriptive line,Conspiring all to finish one design,Smitwith delight. Vol. 1, page 126.

The good successwhich had attended his early uamtanoe

with the Muses, was apparent on the publication 0 his first

mm! production . It 18 entitled, Colin and P hebe, a

and was sent to the Spectator, in which it appeared as

No. 608 . For a century it has preserved the pulari which

it then'

ned ; and to this day i t is accoun one of eOmost

bfiu

and natural specimen s of that kind of com

positmn.wof the action s described in it have beenb lamed or them

ludicrous vulgarity but not one of them i s mean one with

the manners of a riistic, fromwhose unrepressed eeli ngs and

THE Bl" 0?

lowideas it is nothing un common for such expression sas these inflow: My heart was as light as afi 'ather all dam—My heart, I a.sure, maghs more than a pound—P eace there with your bubbling.

Iflung at theirfleeces a handj itlq rase.—Itmakes mequite mad to

seeyou so merry while I am so sad. Yet what m ain 1: so silly to

live without love?—Nor will budge one footfaster for all then

m et 8

In er expressions, the lover evinces just as much knowledge of heathen mythology as we may sup se a countryman

to possess ; and the c lum sy manner in which e employs it, shewsit to be not the mostprofound. When he exclaims, Howalongtime creeps!he adds, m all the keen im atien ce ofpresent disap

pointment, [fI knewwhereabouts hebv tread, I could breathe on

is mingu—e

'

t would melt down the lead, andwould con sequently

quicken the leaden , lingering e of tim e, and hasten the pe

n od ofthe fair one’

s arri val. e minute s are afterwards charged more swiftly tofly; and, as a special inducemen t to their

rapid advance, thcy are invited to rest longer when she shall be

here; areward congen ialwith a shepherd'

s ideas. All this is

exquisitely characteristic . Had Colin been made to utter prettythings in a fine style, he would have appeared, indeed, in gar

ments more splendid than this his holiday suit ; yet they wouldhave been borrowed robes, and under their guise still a clown,hewould but occasionally have proved himselfto be apolite gen -e

tleman. But he is now a plain countryman throughout ; and,except in those parts where the description s apply, as they wereintended by the author, exclusively to the views an d habits ofaahepherd,

’ he eaks the impassioned lang ofhuman nature.

Thi s isuniver y understood, especially hygrosewho have beenin similar circumstances. Suchpersonswillacknowle dge that thefeverish petulance of the solitary rustic, whom nothing pleases,bears avery strong resemblance to the ill

- humoured efl’

er vesoenoe

of their own feelings on the absence of some beloved object.J oanna, the oun est daughter of Doctor Bentley, is usually

mentioned as e lady in whom praise these pastoralverseswerecomposed. That a copy of them m ight be presented to her, outof respect to her accomplishments and virtues, may be readilybelieved. But it willbe credited by no one,who only partiallyknewMr. Byrom , that he made any advances towards a place inthe young lady

's affections,with the sinister design ofsucceeding

the more efl'

ectually in his a plication for a fellowship. Yet ithas been hinted

, that his college motion was owing ratherto his feigning an attachment to th?daughter, than to any Ill

e scg vold mage l.

MR. J OHN BYRON.

m iration ofhis talents by the father. This is stated by none ofhis b

'

hers as a fact, but is raised on ly in the convenientform a surmise ; and scarcelymerits an

yattempts at refirtatien.

Twa con sideration s, however, will ten to shew the fallacy ofthis conjecture : the remarkably frank and generous dispositionb rByrom, is itself a suflicient contradiction to the columnHis conduct, from childhood to old age, in every afl

'

air of liftwits the e site to double- dealing. Besides, there exists in the

poem no usion that can apply to Mi ss Bentley asetdess. Although it was composedpriorto his sitting h

a (hip, yet it is not said

My time, 0 ye Muses, washappily spentWhen J oanna wen t with mewhenever Iwent.

He would not have framed his eulogy in so generalanda manner as to be equally app to sny other of the sel;ifhe had been the design ing an selfish youthwhich this repreahntation would make him . What lady would acknowledgesuch lin es, unless they were inscribed with her name, or ca n

tained some specific reference to her person , mind, or circumstances, which could neither be mi staken nor applied with

propriety to another? But in all the accounts which are givmof our author

’

s motives, it is neve:honce intimated that the

ytmn lad entertained an idea of e secret meanmg'

of an

mutt?y exilressions in it which were applicable to herselhHow an one e lse could assert that theywere a covert amlmesa

treat to er van ity, it is not eas to divine.

Regarded merely as a you ul exercise of poetic skill, whynot this eclogue be allowed that free range of imaginationeh is claimed for sim ilar composition s? Colin and P hobd,

P hebe Byrom, this pastoralwas addressed, as well as severd

Other copies of verses. Themention of her name in it was Atways accounted, b his coxmections, as tender a mark of

fi nal reepect as a her could confer on such a near ve.

THE LIFE OF

ob'

ect of his fondest affection s, in'

lowin language he depictthischarming effect which her res

gence g

gve to all

m ess ofnature and the cloudedaspect which every thing bore

when she was absent.On the whole, it is very probable that this story had its ori

gin either in van ity, or in the colloquial slander of som e rival

candidate who was at that time disap oin ted in his prospects of

honours. For it is a fact which admits of no doubt,before the publication of these verses, the pr

manners, accurate classicalknowled e, and am iable

aition ofMr. Byrom, had recommendedgrim to the frien'

pofDr. Ben tley. Whoever reads his poetical criticism s on Ho

race, Homer, &c . in the latter part of this volume, will beastonished at the profundity of his gen ius and the exten t of his

attainments ; andwillbe further convinced that it was som ethingbeyond a pretended artiality for his daughter that induced the

discerning Master oRTrinity College to favour Mr. Byrom’

s

election to a fellowshiHe proceeded, at the usualperiod, to his degree ofMaster of

Arts ; and in the year 1716 res: edhis college prefermen t. As

it was not a lay fellowship, by e statutes of the house he could

it no longerwithout entering in to holy orders. His rea

sons for declimng to m in ister in holy things, according to the

forms of the Established Church, have never been satisfactorilyp tated. From this omission several person s have ven tured to

class him with the conscientious among Dissenters, and have

imputed his Nonconformity in this in stance to his political 0

n ions, or to his refined ideas of church-

governmen t. His potical sentiments were indeed the same as were held by a num

ber ofmost worthy characters in that age ; and they were notthemoat friendly to all the principles and measures of G o vern

ment. Yet had there not been another more powerful cause,

thesewould have had very little influence on hi s determination

with respect to the Church, because many of her dign itaries

were the abdttors of the same olitical princi les. Nor was hehindered by anywant of attac ment to her doctrines and cere

monies; for she had not a more dutiful son ; and however liberal he was towards contrary attachments in other people, it washis delight and high satisfaction through life to attend on the

ministration of all her ordinances. Yet he appears to have beeninfluenced at this criticalperiod by religious motives of a pecu

on ofhis fellowship, being in

state of health, he went to Montp’

ellier, where he began to

ma. J OHN arson . xiii

‘

atud-

y physic,having an intention ofexercising it as a rofession .

It is gen erally believed, that, during his residence in rance, he

imbibed themysticalopin ion s ofFatherMalebranche in P hiloso

phy and of Fenslon and Madame Bourignon in Divin ity. But

these notions,however they m i ht be increased by his remainina short time in the region of eir growth, had been emhr

by him before he left Cambridge ; and to his reasons

ing rivacy they had communicated a powerful bias.e latter part of the Seven teenth Cen tury was particularly

marked by the violent concussion swhich took place between twoite parties in religion . One of them may, not unaptly, bem the arty of the Moralists, and the other that of the Spiri

tualists. eir struggle was not confined to one church or coun .

try : It extended through Christendom .

Ever since the passing of the act of Uniform ity, by whichn early two thousand of her best tors reluctantly became

Non conformists, the Establ ished C urch of England had been

suffering a d cay in her Vitals from the want of “ablem in isters

of the New estament.”The successors of these worthies did

not on the consciences of their hearers those grand truths

of 0mm which distinguish it from every religious sys

tem of merely human ori°

n . They were them selves ignorant

of that inward kingdom 0 G od,which is ri hteousness, peace,the Ho] G host and could not refore be expect.

to dividle the word of truth, or to teach others thesalvation . It became a fashionable practice among

.Clergymen to expatiate largely on the sublime morality of the

G ospel. G reat acuteness and precision were also expended in

proving that the Christian Rehgion was in several respects su

perior to the systems of heathen sages. If a preacher could,moreover, evince his dexterity in the pulpit by confuting the

arguments of the P apists, he was immediately ronounced a

good christian and an astute theologian . From slight but

true sketch, the fact is not at all extraordinarvthat no writer ofem inence can be found in the Established Church, from those

days till nearly the middle of the eighteenth century, whose

productions clearly exhibit the doctrines of Christ in their happ

Influence on the conduct, and their saving efficacy in the soul.Repentance, F aith, and Holiness sometimes occur i n the theolo

gicalwritings of that period; but the are only in the lowest acceptations of those sacred terms. tanee is generally set

forth as such a contrition for sin as secures the favour of J eho

vah, without much, if any, need of the interven tion of the Sa

viour. Faith is represented, in all thepomp ofwords as the

TB! “Fl 0!

substance of things hoped for, the evidence of not seen 3”

but when examined, it is found to be, not the vi and operative prin ciple obviously intended by thatword in the records oftruth, but a cold assent of the understanding to this proposition,Christian ity is a revelation from G od.

”And Holiness, accord

ing to them, is prin cipal ly an abstin ence from gross vices, anda tranquility ofm ind which may comport with, what they a ll,the proper dignity of a human being.

”The discourses on

these topics are adorned with many excel lent precepts, ofwhichSeneca and Epictetus furn ish as large a share as the writers ifthe NewTestam ent.

Such was the deplorable state of Evangelical Religion in a re

ofthe best constituted churches of Christ in Euro But th'

n

representation does not apply to her alone : The graders fruthe Establishmentwere in a little time enveloped in thick mistsof error, and had gone far from the doctrines of the Reformer!and from the piety of their predecessors, the P uritan s. TheNonconforming min isters about this time seemed divinely commissioned to impart much of the savour of godliness to the peo

ple with whom they united, and to revive its droo ing in terestsamong Dissenters. But when those holy men die5, -and their

of controversy and furnishingstinctly marks the decay of I

church as the lowideas entertained by its members of the pa~

son of Christ J esus. If a m inisterprofessed a belief in Chmdivinity, he was branded for illiberality, and

°

udged unworthyof the refined society ofAriana. With re ard

Jto purity of due

trine, the established church had a decided advantage. Fa ,

whatever unscriptural deg-mas might be promulgated from the

pulpit, the liturgy, which made an integral and important part

of every public service, was heard from the reading desk ; andan it were recognised allthe essentialand consolstory truths d

’

MR. J OHN BYROM.

But when nearly'

all,the light that was in dissent

became darkness, how great must that darkness

To this religious condition were the Moralists of England t e

duced ; yet lower in the scale of depression was the same partyin every other European country. The circumstance has not

been unusual, as far as mortals ma judge of the economy ofDivine P roviden ce, for the G reat overnor of theworld occasi

onally to permit one evilto counteract another that is of greateritude. When men have raged their hour, it is seen that1

38

324 sitteth on the water- floods ;”and at a fit time

“he stil

leth the voice of the people.

”Men wonder at divine control,

when in the end they are permitted to view the great good produced by unlikely and unbecile instruinen ts. This remarkwas, perhaps, never more particularly exemplified thud at

theperiod nowunder consideration . Nearly at the same time”03

3 81?se

ge

aal

Mof the natior

l

i

l

s of Europe, a party of mene stics, but w 0 ma with e ual riet bemed SZir

gigaalisis ? These individual); un conili ecte

lilmvgith Zachother, and having no prospect before them but that of opposition

and contumel nobly stood forth to p lead the cause of vitaless. tever other matters they grafi ed on it, thiswas

e princi le generally assumed by them , In the Bible, theword 0 G od, there is a Spirit beyond the letter ; and ifwebe denied this spiri tual religion, which consists in the enjoyment or love of G od on earth and in heaven , or if it be ex

plained awa in what respects, by this code ofmercy, arewemore

‘

bene ted than P agans, J ews, or Mahommedans?’

This, it will be seen, was but a revivalof the

THE LIFE OF

independent of each other, and acted without concert ; theirdevotional productions found a way in to placeswhere trea

tises would not have been allowed an en tran ce. The goldof their doctrine was mixed with alloy.

’ Itwas a plied by different person s, as suited their various fancies, to e philosophi

cal investigation of the appearances of nature ; to the conjecturaldivine affin ity and relative etymology of the Hebrew alphabotical characters ; to the science ofprofound mentalabstraction,and to many other vagaries of weak or arden t imaginations.These additions, which they con sidered ornamental, were so

embodied with better subjects in their works, and clothed in

such glowing language, as to prove very attractive to curious

persons and youthful m inds. The good prin ciples containedm them, often excited strong convictions m the m ind, whenthe tneretricious ornaments with which they were surrounded,

produced no effect. Considering the lax state of public moralsand of religious feeling, it is amazi what progress these opinions made, and withwhat avidity y were received. It 18 a.

circumstance, not the least worthy of bein recorded in this

place, that, by the perusal of two excellen t evotional treatiseswritten by a celebrated English Mystic, a young clergymanwhile at Oxfordwas induced to followthe directions contained in

MR. J OHN BYRON.

the wide diffusion of scriptural prin ciples, the increasing popularity of sound Theology, clear views of the spiri tuality of the

G ospel, and fbr such purity of doctrine as has not been seen in

the Church Universal since the days of the apostles.

Religious impression s had been early made on themind ofMr.

Byrom and notwithstanding the native sp htliness of his dis

position , he did not in his youth entirely orget the end for

which he was created. It might be expected from a m ind con

stituted as his was, after he had become acquaintedwith the relative merits of the conflicting religious in terests now enumera

ted, that he would not long remai n in a state of neutrality or

in action . The force of tim struction had prepared

ofthe fundamen talprin

I i rpose was frustrated by the arrival in London of two femaleb asins. These ladies were the daughters of his uncle, Mr.

- soph Byrom, a very rich mercer at Manchester.

m e to town on their

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

TH! L117! 0!

tor be demonstrated, to the satisfaction ofall the spectators, thesuperior quickness and legibili of his short- hand and was soknowledged to be the victor. n allusion to this afl

'

air, he wasever afterwards styled by his pupils G RAND Ms s

'

raa.

In March, 1724, hewas chosen Fellow of the Royal Society.

During the P residency of Sir Isaac Newton, and for some timeafterwards, themajon ty of the members of that learned bodywere mathematicians. The studies of Cambridge are known tobe cipallymathematical. While engaged in the prosecutionof£21, Mr. B m applied the most obvious principles andeasy figures in eometry to his inven tion ofStenography. Whoever examines his system will find that the pro rtion s in thecharacters are adjusted with great n icety, and t each of itselements is geometrically exact. Many of the Fellows hadbeen in habits of intimacywith him at Cambridge ; and hiswri.cular fii end, Martin Folkes, Esq., was at that time in the ice

presidency, and afterwards succeeded Sir Hans Sloane as P resident of the Society. These gentlemen con sideredMr. Byra n,from his general literary character, as an intelligent associ ate,and a valuable addition to their body. But for the honour of hiselection he was chiefly indebted to his attainments in the (liferent fascinating branches ofmathematical science.

He continuedfor some cars with laudable industry to

himself in providin for°

s family, when at length his elddbrother, Mr. EdwardByrom, died without issue. B this eventhe came into possession of the fam ily estate at Ker

-

sally; and, hav

ing a comfortable independence,was relieved from the neceu ityof being any longer a teacher. He nowgave himself up to theenjoyment of domestic and social felicity, for which he had bynature an exquisite relish.

His hours of leisure were often em loyed in rhyming on anysubject which suited his fancy. T e facility with which becommun icated his ideas in verse, prompted him to choose tq iafor his Muse which have seldom been attempted by other

(P age iii, vol.“Yet to the purposes ofin struction, and ir

terests of virtue, all his abilities were ever made anIf thepublic mind began to be filled with violent prejudices allfalse VleWS, his philanthropy inclined him to shew his moderate

mean an

yothin

tg except the ex risnes recommeuhl

in the Bible, the ve 0 G od m the soul)

,

e

he was always readywith his pen to convince them of error, and to shewunto tlfla more excellentway.

”These two volumes ofhis em

tammany able defences of inward religion. His m kscl

MR. J OHN BYROM.

Doctor Middleton’

s exam ination of Bishop Sherlock’

s Use andIntent of P rophecy, (vol. 1, pageance, consistmg of one thousand lines. It is unan swerable init argumen tation, and interesting in its matter ; and will rich“?

v

repay for the time emfioyed in its perusal. The general, re

er W ill notice one pec'

ty in this piece, which i s his versify.

ing the c

gmtations in fewerwords than they occupy in the notes,

vrt iminishing their signification or energy. The worksof Doctors Brown, Aksnside, Rogers, and Watts, and those of

the Rev. Mr. Hervey, furnis him with different subjects ofanimadversion . But his severest censures are directed againstmanyof the bold and unscriptural tenets of that famous controvernalist, BishopWarburton, who was much galled by his remarks, and afi

'

ected grsst disdain for him by calling him ¢s

M . (Vol 1, pago GC.) 0

He has been so styled by many authors. It becomes neces

therefore, to state in what sense he is entitled to the sp

getion . That in early life be ranked himself on the side ofMystics has been already shewn (page xvii and he appears

throughout life to have retained afondn ess for theirwritings. Theenig naticalmanner of pro unding their sentiments attractedhis fancy ; but he never pai any atten tion to theirworks, unlesshe discovered in them judicious statements of scripture facts, orable illustrations of evangelical truth. When he found these,

it is no irnpeachx'

nent of the soundness of hisundersta to say, that he gave the authors credit for amulti ssde ofother matters which were he and his comprehension .

In otherwords, he regarded the rabbis in themine on ]

fi e of the precious metalswhich it served to cover.

making of l n ch , (vol. 2,m es 82, and

Reason may see that somethin more divineLieshid in what the books of ehmen teach,Tho’ it surpass i ts apprehensive reach

May see from what. it really apprehends,That allmere reas’ners Behmen far transcends.

co, and

Behmen nhsd. accommodated a species of Rabbinical

explanatim of spiritual~myster1es; and Mr. Byrom th

18 M ord -coda at part of“the

palpable obscure

”

3system, s a spsnmen may seen in vol. 2,c

THE LIFE OF

Yet, for this peculiarity, the term Behmen ist”can be ap lied

to him with no more justice than to Bishop Horne, the fiatMessrs. Bates, J ones, P arkhurst, Romaine, and other learned-and

ious men ,who imbibed Hutchin son’

s”refinements on Behmen

’

s

Babbin ical method, and interpreted the Mosaic accoun t of fire

creation on the same rinciples. This is the qualified sense in

which Mr. Byrom oug t to be considered aBehmenist or Mystic.

He was a man of unaffected piety, His religion was without gloom : It did not hinder the exercise of habitual cheerful

ness. That a person so conversan t with the polite world as he

was, should be consistently serious, and should command re

spect from the thoughtless and profane, are circum stances

rather un common in their occurrence. His rejoicin wasthi s, the testimony ofhis conscien ce, that in simplici ty an god

ly sincerity, he had his conversation in the world.

”The nega

ti ve virtue of harmlessness was not applicable to his character.G ood nature will prevent a man from injuring his neighbour:To say that Mr. Byrom p

ossessed this passive quality,would besmall commendation of is active benevolen ce, which was ever

prompting him to devise or perform some good for his fellowcreatures. His native town was benefited by his gratuitous

exertion s an d advice, on several public occasions whennature and harmlessness would have been sorry substitutes for

firmness and address.

Truth was the great object of his search. The G od oftruth, whom it was his sincere

‘

and con stant desire to serve,

gave him to“ know the doctrin e

”of Christ J esus, and to fed

ltS saving influence. In his experience was verified that re

markable expression of the A stle, And if in any thing yabe otherwiseminded, G od shalifevealeven this to you.

”

(P hllrp. .

i ii. He en tertain ed peculiar n otion s and whimsical opin ion s about many things; but they were not without variation .

Not being in him principles of action , they never affected his

practice. It was enough for him if one of them was discoveredto be not according to the oracles of truth ; it was instantly discarded, and no longer allowed to constitute one of the articlesof his belief. The writings of our great English Mystic, Mr.

'

Wm .Law, had gained his most rofound admuation . They are

not e

qlualled, by any author that class, in purity and gene

ralutr°

ty. HIS intimacywith this good man served to counter.

act the unfavourable impressions,w hich he had received fromhi s early acquaintance with the Mystics of the Roman Catholicpersuasion ,

some of whose doctrinal errors he had partially embraced. Towards the close of life he seems to have regarded

s With this Gentlm n Mr. Byromm wellaoqmintsd. Ssevol. 1.m m

ma. J OHN arson . xxiii

all these little things with comparative indifference. In the

revalence of pure religion and undefiled”he took the most

Evely concern . His thankfulness was excited when it floarished among an body of people ; and the happy change whichhe lived to be old in the religiousworld,was to him a source of

ex uisite satisfaction . At a time when much obloqu was at

tac ed to the name of aMethodist, he was not ashamed7

of beingkn own as the particular friend of that great and

the late Rev: J ohn Wesley.

He attained to the advanced age of seventy- two years,ing good health and outliving most of

,the friends of his youth.

Hi s placidity and cheerfulness never forsook him; and his com

pany was particularly agreeable to youn people. As long as

e was able to walk abroad, they court his society, andwereinstructed by his conversation . His carriage towards them wasnot that of an aged bufi

'

oon ; and their fam iliarity with him wasefvfd ztemp red with attention and re ct. At length he was“718m W lth a severe illn ess, which ed in to action his chris

t ifi i esi ation . Though it tried his virtues, it was to him a

am en 151

1

1

1o triumph.

“

From his first experien ce of the powercf religion, which was at an early age, he had always derivedhis chief pleasure from a knowledge of his in terest in the mer

m’

a'

of G od, thro h the merits of his Saviour. But now, en

ed more imm iately in a preparation for heaven , he vieweddeparture from this world, at any time, as an event n ot to

De dreaded. In favoured mom ents,when he considered death as

W atom” Ii e, he e erl desired to s at once e bounds, and70 rialize ti ne sulilime

ydelights, w

°

ch, while seeing through

I glm darkly,”he had often contemplated with exultation and

made.” Had the worldlings known this, they m

'

ht again

l ave ,bra'

nded him as an enthusiast. But this was thel

legitimatem thusiasm of a christian : He saw something desirable in

W ith these VleW S, he wasthe glory of G od5

”and was

the 28th Sep. 1763 .

said of Mr. Byrom’

s qualificaregretted that he did not

h ave the e specimens of his tical abilities, which were of

lb meari'

order. Of these he ad abundance : But possessingl l themodesty of realmerit, he

°

udgedmost of them unfit for

h e inspection of the publ ic ; an destroyed them,it is said,

( I nc time before his last illness. Had he lived to see the pubtu fion of his Miscellaneous P oems,

”and

'

had the‘

selection

f thein rested with himself. it cannot be doubted that not one

ran a n or, dzc.

in twenty of the verses which are inserted in these volumes,would have seen the t. But these are his chief remains ;and are offered on ly as e glean ings of a great man

’

s produc

tions. Notwithstanding their occasional want of harmorgzanddeficiency in smoothness, the most insign ifican t piece

“

amthem contains such a point and terseness, such ingenuitygood sense, as none but the performance of amaster in numberscan exhibit.His invention was fertile, his allusion s happy, his i

of his try does there appear amg, Eac of them may be considered as s

ever afi erwards had mie fno

CONTENTS TO VOLUME FIRST.

A P ASTORAL—first printed in the 8th Advice to the Rev. Messrs.H and}!of the Spectator,

A descripdon of'l‘unhridge, in a letter to

P 0 “0 m o

A fullandmre sceountolahorrldand har

On the Author’s Coat ofArmsVerses intended to have been spoken atthe

A u of tt reeG rammarSchoola s sesseras eatem at the u s o u

a club, the eat a pear-ing in Milton so the P ublic Am

ppn

ahlackWn , who us y wore a A Dmlogue on Contcntmcnt.whits '

l‘ie Tom the P orter.

m “ the happy Workman’s

M o‘s Bean’sHeadfl'

om the

Tlss'l‘lnee Black Crowm a tale. Lords

Vsn ss on the sameoccasion as the An Eplstle ta rlend, on the Art ofEnglish P oen

-

y.

Ape snd the Fox, afable, spokm on TO R. L. Esq. qn his sendmgthe Anamthe same oocasion . aHare acoordmg to an annualCustom. 13 6

Dulcu AnteOmnis Mus pokm on the To thesame us

“ Countrc llowsand theAn fi fable,on the same occssion.

In ova Fert Animus Mutatu Dicere

d pFour lslplstl

hee

c

syto the Rev Mr L

Vicarof Bowdm , on thee scls at theFeast of P enteoost.

The P oemster

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2

But, now she is gone and has left me behind,W hat a marvellous change on a sudden I find

!

W hen things seem’d as fine as couldpossibly be,

I thought’twas the Spring ; but, alas !itwas she .

W ith such a companion to tend a few sheep,To rise up and play, or to lie down and sleep,So good humour

’d made me, so cheerful and gay,

My heartwas as light as a feather allday.

But now I so cross and so peevish am grown,So strangely uneasy as neverwas known .

My fair one is gone , and my joys are alldrown’d ;

Andmy heart, I am sure,weighs more than a pound.

The fountain that wont to run sweetly along,And dance to soft murmurs the pebbles among,Thouknow’

st, little Cupid, ifP hebe was there,’Twas pleasure to look at,

’twas music to hear.

But, now she is absent, Iwalkby its side,And stillas it murmurs do nothing but chide ;

Must you be so cheerful while I go in pain?P eace therewithyour

'

lbubbling, andhear me complain

W hen round me my lambkinswould oftentimes play,And P hebe and I were as joyful as they,Howpleasant their sporting, howhappy the timeW hen spring, love,and beautywere allin their prime !

But now, in the ir frolics when byme they pass,I fling at theirfleeces a handfulofgrass

Be still !” then I cry, for it makes me quitemad

To see you so merry while I am so sad.

My dog Iwas everwell pleased to seeCome,wagging his tail, to my fair one andme ;P hebe likewisewas pleas

’d, and to my dog said

,

Come hither, poor fellow and patted his head.

But now, when he’s fawning, I witha sour look

C ry Sirrah and give hima blowwithmy crookAnd I

’llgive him another ; forwhy should not Tray

Be as dull as hismaster,when P hebe’s away

W hen walking with P hebe, what sights have I seen 2HowfairWere the flowers, how fresh was the green !W hata lovely appearance the trees and the shade ,The cornfields, the hedges, and ev

’ry thingmade :

3

But, now she has left me, they allare in tears,Not one of them halfso delightful appears‘Twas nought but the magic, I find, of her eyes

W hichmade all these beautiful prospects arise.

Sweet musicattended us all the woodthro’

,

The lark, linnet, throstle,— and nightingale too ;W inds over uswhisper

’d, flocks by us .

did bleat,And Chirp

” went the grasshopper under our feet.Now, since she is absent, though stil l they sing on,The woods are but lonely, the melody

’s gone ;

Her voice in the concert, as now [ h ave found,G ave ev

’ry thing else its agreeable sound.

Rose, what is become ofthy delicate hue?Andwhere is the Violet’s beautiful blue?Does aught ofits sweetness the blossom beguile?That meadow, those daisies,— why do they not smile?Ah !rivals, I seewhat it was, that you drestAnd made yourselves fine for,—a place in her breastYouput on your colours to please her fine eye,To be pluck

’d by her_hand, on her bosom to die.

How slowlytime creeps!till my P hebe return,

Amid the soft zephyr’s cool breezes I burn !

Methinks ifI knewwhereabout he would tread,I could breathe on hiswings ; it wouldmeltdown the lead.

Fly swifter, yeminutes, bring hither myDear,And for it rest longerwhen she shall be here.

Ah!Colin, old time is too full ofdelay,Nor will budge one foot faster for allthoucanst say.

W ill no pityingpow’r that bears me complain,

Or cure my disquiet, or soften my pain?

To be cur’d, thoumust, Colin, thy passion remove

Yet what swain is so silly to livewithout love?No,deity, bid the dear nymph to return ;For ne

‘erwas poor shepherd so sadly foi lorn.

Ah!what shall I do I shal l die with despair!Take heed, allye swains, how ye part with your Fair !

DESCRIP TION or TUNBRIDG E,

In a Letter to P . M. Esq.

DEAR P eter,whose friendship I value muchmoreThan bards their own verses, ormisers their store ,Your books, and our bus

’

ness, and ev’ry thing else

Lay aside for aw ile, andcome to theW ells :The countr so pleasant! theweather so fine!A world 0 fair ladies,and delicate wine !The proposal, I fancy, you

’ll hardlyreject,Then hear, ifyoucome, what you first mayexpect.

Some ei ht or nine miles offwe send to you greetingBarbers,flippers, and so forthto give you the meeting.

As soon as they spy you each pulls of his hat,Does yourhonourwantthis? Doesyour honourwant that?

”

Thus being a stranger, bythis apparatus

You may see ourgoodmanners before you come at us.Now this in your custom

’s to getthe first footing,

A trick, please yourhonour, whichherewe callTooting!

Conductedbythese civil gem’men to town,

You put up yourherse at—for rhyme

’s sake, the Crown

My landlord bidswelcome, andgives you his wordFor the best entertainment his house can afford.

You taste which is better, his white or his red,Bespealt agoodsupper, good room, and good bedIn shorujust as travellers do when they light,So, to fillup the stanza, Iwish you G ood N ight

Butwhen rudd P hcebus next morning appears,Andwithhis brig t beams our gladhemisphere cheers,You rise, dress, get shav

’d,— then away to thewalks,

The pride ofthe place, ofwhichev’ry one talks!

I’d imagine youthere to be drinking thewaters,Knew I not that you come not for such little matters,But to see the fine ladies in their dishabil le,W hichdress is sometimes the most studied to kill .

a A provincialwordwhich signifies prying,searching M .

50

The ladies yousee ; they are ladies as fair,As charming and bright as are seen anywhereYou eye and examine the beautiful throng,As o

’er the clean walks they pass lovely along;

Shouldany one looka little demurer,You fancy, like ev

’ry young fop, youcouldcure her;

Till from some pretty nympha deep woundyoureceive,Andyourselfwant the curewhichyou thought you could

give.

Not so woundedhowe’eras to makeyouforgetThat your honour thismorn has not breakfasted yet;So toMorley

’s yougo, lookabout and sit down ;

Then comes the young lass for your honour’

s half-crown;She brings out the book, you lookwisely upon her,W hat’s the meaning ofthis?” To subscribe, pleaseyour honour

So youwrite as your betters have alldone before ye,’Tis a custom, andhere is an end of the story.

And now allthis while, h i s forty to one

But some friend or otheryou’ve stumbled upon ;

You allgo to church upon hearing the bell,W hether out ofdevotion yourselves best can tellFrom thence to the tavern, to toast prettyNancy,Th

’aforesaid bright nymph that had smitten your

W herewine andgood victualsattendyour commands,‘

Andwheatears, far better than French‘

ortolans.

Then afteryou’ve din’d, take a viewofour ground,

Observe the grandmountains that compass us round;And ifyou could walk a mile after eating,Some comical rocks are worth contemplating;Youmay, ifyouplease, for their oddness andmake.Compare them

— let’s see— to theDerbyshire P eak.

They’re one like the other, except that the wonder

Is seen here above ground, and there is seen under.

To the walks about seven you tracebackyourway,W here the Sunmarches off, andthe ladies makW hat crowding of charms!whatG ods!rather s!

What beauties are there!what bright looks, a re, anddresses!

6

In the room of thewaters hadHel icon sprung,Had the nymphs ofthe place by old poets been sung,

To invite the G ods hither they wouldhave had reason ,And J ove had descended each night in the season .

Ifwith things here belowwe compare things (in

Thewalks are like yonder bright path in the sky,W here hea‘venly bodies in such clusters mingleAs makes it invidious their graces to single.

See the charms ofher sex unite in M iss K- ll-y ;Ifeveryou

’ve seen her, permit me to tel l ye,

Descriptions are p eedless ; for, after to you

No beauty, no graces can ever be new.

l

But when to their gaming the ladieswithdraw,

Those beautiesare fled whichwhen walking you sawMost ungrateful the scene which there is display

’d,

Chance murd’ring the featureswhich heaven hadmade .

Ifthe FairOnes their charms did sufficientlyprize ,Their elbows they

’d spare for the sake oftheir eyes ;

And themen too— whatwork!’tis enough, in good faithOf the nonsense of chance to convince any Ath

’ist.

But now it is proper to bidmy friend vale,Lest we tire you too long withour TunbridgialeW hichshould the sour critics pretend to unrave lOr at these lame verses shouldstupidly cavi lIf this be our

'

lot, tell those critics, I pray,That I care not one farthing for all they can say.

And now I concludewith my service, good P eter,To yourself and all friends ; - farewell muse! farewell

metre!

A full and true Account of

A HORRID AND BARBAROUS ROBBERY,

om itted in Epping Forest, on the Body '

of the Cambridge Coach

In a letter to Martin Folkes,Esq. F .R . S.

I

Arm c irumque-VIRG . E N. i. 1.

Arms and the man I sing.

DEAR Martin Folkes, dear scholar, brother, friend,Andwords oflike importance without end,This comes to tel l you,how in Epping HundredLastW edn

’sday morning Iwas robb

’dandplund’red.

Forgive theMusewho singswhat, I suppose,Fame has already trumpeted in prose.

But Fame’s a lyingjade, the turn offate

Let poor Melpomene herself re lateSpare the sad nymph a vacanthour

’s relief,

To rhyme away the remnants ofher grief.

On Tuesday night, youknowwith howmuch sorrowI briefly told the club I go to

-morrow”

To-morrow came, when in due order I

W ent to the starting place accordinglyBullwas the house, and Bishopgate the street;The coach as full as it could cram ; towit,Two fellow commoners,De bald Trin .

And eke an honest bricklayer ofLynn,And eke two Norfolkdames, his wife and cousin,Abd eke my worship

’s selfmade halfa dozen.

Now then, as fortune had contriv’d, our wayThro

’the wild brakes of Epping Forest lay

W ith travellers and trunks, a cumbrous load,W e crawl’d along the solitary road;W here nought but thickets within thickets grew,

No house or barn to cheer the wand’ring View;Nor lab

’ring hind,nor shepherddid appear,

Nor sportsman with his dog or gun was there;Adreary landscape, bushy andfo

‘

rlorn,W here rogues start up like mushrooms in amorn.

8

However since such rogueswe hadnotyetxcept within a sessions-paper met,W

'

e jok’d on fear ; tho

’as we past along,

Bobbingwas still the burden ofthe song.

W ith untry’d couragebravely we repell

’d

The rude attacks ofdogs not yet beheld.

W ith val’rous talkstill battling, till at last

W e thought alldanger was as goodas past.Sa 8 one, (too soon alas !) now let him come,

’llfell him with this bottle full of rum.

”

Scarce had he oken when the brickman'swifeCry

’d out, “goo Lord!he

’s here upon my life !

”

Forth from behind thewheels the villain came,And swore suchwords as I dare hardly nameBut ou

’ll suppose them not fromme to drop,

Butfi'om the rogue, G - d d— n ye, coachman, stop!Your money, deliverme yourmoney,Quick,d— n ye,quick!must I staywaiting on ye?

Quick, or I’llsend” —(andnearer still he rode)A brace ofballs amongst ye all, by G—d!

”

I leave youto conjecture in what plightW e allwere put by this ferociouswight.The trembling females into labour fell ;B igwith the sudden fear, they pout, theyw ell,And soon deliver

’dby his horrid curses,

Brought forth two strange and praeternat’ralpurses ;

W hich look’d indeed like pursesmade of leather,

But let the sweet- tongu’d ‘Maninghem saywhether

A common purse could possibly concealShillings, half-crowns and half-pence by piece-meal.

The

youth who threw the bottleat the knave

Before e came,‘

nowthought itbest to waveSuch resolution, andpreserve the liquor,Since a round guinea might be thrown much quicker ;So with impetuous haste he flung him that,W hich the sharp rascal parriedwith his hat.His right-hand man, a brother of the quill,Chose prudently to shewhis own goodwill

Dr.Maningham,whowrote apamphlet in defence of the well-k mstory of the Rabbit-woman.

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10

Down jumps the frighted coachman on the sand,P icks up the gold and puts it in his hand;M issing a rare occasion, tim

’rous dastard!

To seize his p1stoland dismount the bastard.

Nowwhile in deep and serious ponderment

I watch’dthe motions ofhis next intent,Hewheel‘d about as fully bent to tryW hichofthe twowas strongest, he or I,Andhowmy silver sentiments would holdAgainst that hard di lemma,— balls or gold.

N0 help?”

said I,“no tachygraphic pow

’r

To interpose in this unequal hour?I can’tmaintain, except by lowly cringing,My cause against that murderous fire

- engine.

The goddess Short-hand, brightcelestial maid!

J ust then descended to her champion’s aid;

C lad m a letter’dvest ofsilver hue,‘

W rought by her fav’rite P hebe

’s hand, she flew.

Th’ unfolded surface fell exactly neat,

In just proportion o’er her shape complete ;

Distinctwith lines ofpurer flamingwhite,Transparentwork, intelligibly bright ,Form

’d to delight the cultivated mind,

To puzzle and confound the stupidhitid.

Soon as thewretch the sacredwriting spy’d,

W hat conjuration-sight ts this?” he cry

’d.

My eyes meanwhile the beav’uly vision clear’(1,

And shew’dme how his hellish looks appear’d.

Heav’n shield alltravel lers from foul disgrace!

For I sawTyburn 1n the ruflian’5 face ;

Andifaright Ijudge ofhuman mein,His face ere long inTyburn will be seen.

The hostile blaze soon seiz’d hismiscreant blood;

He star’d, turu

’d shor'

t, andfledmto the wood.

Dangerdismiss‘d, the gentle goddess smil

’d

L ike a fond parent 0 er her fearful child;And thus began to drive the dire surprise,Forth from my anxious breast 1njocundwise ;

Alluding to some Short-hand Characters neatly cut in paper by theauthor’s sister

, whichwere presented to M . F . Esq.

ll

My son, said she,“ this fellow is no l“W éston,

No adversary, child, to make ajest on ;W ith ink sulphureous upon human skin

He writes, indenting horrid marks therein ;But thou hast read his fate, the halter

’

d slaveShal l quickly sing his penitential stave.

P ursue thy route, and when thou tak’st another,

Bestride some gen’rous quadruped or other.

Let this enchantedvehicle confine

From this time forth no votaries ofmine !

Let me no more see honest short-handmen

Coop’dup in wood, like poultry in a pen.

And at Trin . C'

oll.~ whene’er thou art enlarging

On this adventure, notewithin the margin,Let Cambridge scholars who are not quite bare,Shun Epping Forest

’s track and ride through

Ware.

Adieu!my son ; resume thywontedjokes,And write account ofthis toMartin Fo lkes.

”

This said, she mounts ; the characters divine

Through the bright pathimmensely brilliant shine.

Safelyarriv’

d, first formy boots Iwrote ;I tell the story, and subjoin the note .

And lastly, to fulfil the dread commands,These hasty lines presume to kiss your hands.Excuse the tedious tale of a disasterFrom me, your humble servant andTG randMaster.

The inventor of a short- hand system formerly in great vogue. Its

irregularity and defects Our author had often humorously exposed.

t A title usually given to the author by his pupils in Stenography.

12

A LETTER,

On his departure fi om London, to R. L. Esq.

Usually called by his College acquaintance Sir P eter.

DEAR P eter, your absence atpresent Iwe,W hatever aweek or two hence I may do,These lines in great haste I convey to the Mitre,To tel l the sad plight of th

’unfortunatewriter.

You have left your oldfriend so affectedwithgriefThat nothing but rhyming can give me relief;Though the Museswere never worse ut to their trumps

To comfort poorhard in his sorrowful umps.

Themoment you left us, with griefbe it spoken,This poor heart ofmine felt as though itwas broken ;And I almost faint stil l ifa carriageapproach,W hich looks like aHighgate or Barnet stage coach ;Indeedwhen at first that oldvehicle gap

’dTo take in friendP .

— so the fare had but scap’d,

IfI did not halfwish the man might o’erturn it

And break it to pieces, TI am a sous’d G urnet.

TheRhenish and sugar drunkat your departure,I hopedwouldmake me to grief less amartyr;But the wine yetmore strongly toweeping inclin

’d,And my griefby the _

sugar was double refin’d.

It is not to tel l howmy heart fel l a throbbingW hen at the last parting our noseswere bobbing ;Those sad farewel l accents! I think on them stillYou

’ll remember to write, John?” Yes, P eter,

I wil l .”

You no sooner were gone than this famous metropolis,Whichappear

’djust before so exceedinglypopulous,

W hen tow’rds it I turu

’

dme, seem’dall ofa sudden

As though it was mov’d from the place it had stood in .

To be put to their tram s - to be forced on their last expedient.t A phrase used by Sha speare and others of the same age. 6 1111 111111

or G arnet is a kind offish nearly resembling a P iper.

I3

I shouldhardly have known how to findmywayback,But for Squire Hazel

’

s brother, sagacious J ack;How he brought me from Smithfield toDick

’s I can’t say,

I remember the Charter-house stood in the way.

AtDick’s I repos

’d me andcall’d for some coffee,

And sweet’ned, and supp’d, and was stil l thinking ofye ;

But notwith suchpleasure as when I came there

To wait ti l l Sir P eter should chance to appear ;There while Iwas turning you o

’er in mymind,

Doctor, howdo you do says a voice frombehind,I thought tomyself, I shouldknow this same organ ;Andwho should it be,but my friend DoctorMorgan?

The Doctor and Iwalk’d together, and thenHewent somewhere else, I to Richard’s againAllways have I try

’dmy sad loss to forget,I saunter

’d, wrote short-hand, ate custard, et cet.

W ithhonest Duke Hummrey I pass the longday,To others, as yet, having little to say ;For indeed, Imust own, since the loss ofmy

*chum,

I am grown, as it were, a mere f G erund in dumb.

But‘

,Muse,we forget that our griefwill prevent usFrom treating ofmatters more high and momentous.

P oor J onathan W ild — C lowes, P eerW il liams, and IHavejust been allwaiting to see him pass byHowcrowdedand cramm

’dwere thehouseswith mobs,

Which look’d like Leviathan’s picture in Hobbes,

From the veryground floor to the top ofthe leads,W hile J onathan pasa

’

d through aHolborn ofheads.

FromNewgate to Tyburn he made his procession,

Supportedby two of the nimble profession ;Between the unheeded poorwretches he sat,

In his night-

gown andwig, without ever ahat ;W ith a book in his hand hewent weeping and praying,The moballalong, as hepass

’d them, huzzaing ;

W hile parcels of verses the hawkerswere hollaing,Ofwhich I can only remember the fol lowing

A companion . tA playful allusion to a participial afl’

ection of

he verb, ofwhich there are three in the Latin tongue,called thegam ed:

a di, do, and dam.

14

The cunning old pug ev’rybody remembers,

Thatwhen he saw chesnuts lie roasting in embers,To save his own bacon took puss

’s two foots,

So out of the embers he tickled his nuts.

Thus manypoor rascals, as I understand,For getting him nuts have been burnt in the hand;But hewas not so cunning as Esop

’s old ape,

For this monkey could not keep himselffrom the scrape.

And now, P eter, I’m come to the end ofmy tether,

So Iwish yougood company, journey andweather.

W hen friends in the country enquire after J ohn,P ray tender my service to every one,

To the ladies at Toft, Master Legh ofHigh Legh,To the Altringham meeting, ifany there be,Darcy Lever, W ill Drake, Master Cattel l andCottam,

W hich appears a good rhyme to insert at the bottom.

Richard’s,Monday Night May 24, 1725.

P .S. W hat news?why the Lords, iftheminutes saytrue,

Have pass’dmy LordBolingbroke

’s bill three to two 5,

Three to one, Iwould say ; and I’ve understood

They’ve resolv’d that the Commons ‘

rtheir charge havemade good;

To-morrow, Earl Thomas’s fate to determine,Their Lordships come clothedwithjudgment and ermine.

The sur eons, they say, have got J onathan’s carcase,

If so, I’ Igo see it, or

’twil l be a hard case.

Afterbeingattainted ofhigh treason, on his submission he had receivedHisMajesty

’s pardon . But this, though it hindered the execution of

the lawagainst hi s life,did not enable him to enjoy any possessionswhichm ight devolve on him. A bill therefore passed through both Houses,about the time men tioned by our author, which empowered him to suc

oecd to the family inheritance.

t This was the 1mpeachment of Thomas Earl of Macclesfield,Lord

Chancellor ofEn land. He was convicted of fraudulent practi ces intheHigh Court 0 Chancery ; and condemned to pay a fine of ThirtyThousand P ounds

, and to be imprisoned till that sum should be paid.He was soon after liberated on producing the money.

15

V E R S E S,

Spoken extempore at the Meeting of a Club,

On the appearance of the P resident in a Black Bob Wig, who

had usually worn a White Tie.

OUR P resident in days ofyore

Upon his head a Caxen wore,Upon his head hewore a Caxen

Ofhair as white as any flaxen ;And nowhe heeds it not a fig,But wears upon his pol l awig,A shabby wig upon his pol lOfhair as blackas any coal.

A sad anddismal change, alas!Choose how the deuce it came to pass

P oor P resident!what evil fateRevers

’d the colour ofhis pate?

For if that lamentable dressW ere his own choosing, one would guess,By the deepmourning ofhis head,Hiswits were certain ly gone dead.

Sure it could ne’er be his own choosingTo put his head in such a housingIt must be ominous I fear ;Some mischief to be sure is near .

Nay, should that black foreboding phizSpeakfrom that sturdy trunk of his,W ho c

'

ould forbear to th'

mk it spoke

J ust like a raven from an oak?

A Caxen of so black a hue

On our affairs looks plaguy blueW e do not meet with such an omen

In any story, G reekor Roman

A comet or a blazing starW ere not so terrible by far ;No ; in thatwig the Fates have sent us

Ofall the portents the most portentous.

16

W ho does not tremble for the clubThat looks upon his wig— so scrub!

W ithout a knot!without a tie!W hat can we hang together by?So scrub a wig to lookupon !How can the dire phenomenon

Be long before it has undone us?Oh!

’tis a cruel bobupon us.

The president, withwig so white,Appear

’d another mortal quite ;

Nay, when he sprinkled it with powder,No man in Manchester talk’d louder.

How blestwerewe !but now, alack!The wearing ofawig so black,Such a disgrace has brought about,Burn it!

’twil l never be worn out.

Thou art a Lawyer, honest J oe,I prithee, wilt thou let us knowW hether the blackactwon’

t extend

So as to reach our worthy friend?What!can he wear a wig so shabby,W hen folks are hang

’

d from Waltham

For loving ven’son, and appearing

So like his head, so much like fearing?

You’re a Divine, Sir ; I

’llaskyou,

Is that a Christian, or a J ew,

Or Turk? “Aye,Turk as sure as hops,You see the Sar’osu in his chops

And yet these chops, tho’nowso homely,

W ere christian- l ike before, and comely.

That wicked m g! to make a face

So absolutely void of grace!

You, master Doctor, wil l you tryYour skill in P hysiognomy?Ofwhat disease is it a symptom?

Don’t look at me, but look at him,Tom.

Is it not scurvy think you? Yes,

Ifaught be scurvyish, it is.

A frenzy’tis, or per

’wigmanieThat overruns his pericranie.

”

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ASTROLOG ER’

S ADDRESS.

The point of this satiricalpiece is not lost by thenotiees it con tainsofevents, which occurred at the period when it was written ;neitherdo they prevent it from being ranked angst the mostingenious reprehensions of eventn prognosticators and almanack

prophets.

FELLOW Citizens all, forwhose safetyI peepAllnight at the stars, andallday go to sleep,Attend while I shew you the meaning of FateIn all the strange sightswe have seen here oflateAnd thou,OAstrology, G oddea divine,CelestialDecipheress,gently inclineThine ears and thine aid to a lover ofscience,That bids to all learning but thine a defiance.

Forwhat learning else is there halfso engagingAs an artwhere the terms ofthemselves are presaging?Bymutt

’ring o

’er which, any gentle mechanic

May put hiswhole neighbourhoodinto apanic;

W here a noddle wel l turu’d for rediction and shoes,If it can but remember hardwor cannot choose,From the P rince on the throne to the dairymaid milking,But read alltheir fortunes in yonder bluewelkin.

For the sky is a book, which in letters ofgoldShews all things that almanacks ever foretold;W hich he that can read and interpret alsoW hat is there that such an one cannot foreshewW hen a true son ofart ponders over the stars

They reflect back upon him the face ofafl'

airs ;Of all things ofmoment they give him an inkling,While Empires and Kingdom depend on their twinkling.

19

Your transits, your comets, eclipses,conjunctions,Have all, it is certain, their several functions,And on

'

this globe ofearth here both jointly and singlyDo influencemattersmost astonishingly.

But to keep in some method on this same occasion,W e

’ll give on a fulland true interpretationOfallthe henomena we have rehears’d,Ofwhich in their order ; and first of the first

As forMercury’s travelling over the sun,

There’

s nothing in that, Sirs,when al l’s said anddone ;Forwhatwil l be, wil l be ; andMercn

’s transit,

I’m pos’tive, wil l neither retard nor a vance it.

But when a conjunction or comet takes place,Or a total eclipse, that

’s a different case;

They that laugh at our art, may here seewith their eyes,That some things, at least,may appear from the skies.

A conjunction of J upiter,Saturn, and Mars,

You, gentlemen, may, ifyou lease, turn to farce ;But what if it plainly appear t three men

Are foretold by three planets, what wil l ye say then?Now, to prove this, I

’llonlymake one small request,

W hich is, that ou’llallturn your faces to th

’East;

And then you 1see ere I’ve done my epistle,

IfIdon’tmake it out as clean as awhistle,

In the first place,‘old Saturnwe verywellknow,

Lost his kingdom and provinces some time ago ;

1'This refers to the intestine troubles of P ersia. Schah Haasain,K ingof P ersia, was in 1722 deposed by Mahmoud, chief of the Afgans, or

Aghuans. Acherof or Esrefi'

,succeeded Mahmoud. . This usurper en

deavoured to seize P rinceTamas, heir ap arent to the P ersian throne.

For this purpose he invited him to a con erence on an extensive plain,where he intended to surround him and hisattendants The P rince wasapprized of his designs, in proper time for securing h1s safety by flight.He up lied to thene1ghhourmg sovereigns, to restorehim to his dominions.They only remained inactive that they mi t more readily subdue anation weakened by civil convulsions. Accor ingly soon afterwards theG rand Sei ior commanded his troo to march against the rebels, forthe ostensi le purpose of placing

‘

nce Tamas on the throne . Theyconquered severalfine rovinces, and menaced Ispahan itself. Acherofrouted them,

when wi in four leagues of that city.

P eter the G reat, Emperor ofRussia, also in 1723 carried his victori

ous arms beyond the Caspian Sea, and invaded the P ersian domin ionscertain districts ofwhichwere secured to him by the treaty, concludedm afler at Contautiuople, between him and the G rand Seignior.

Norwas it long after oldSaturn’

s disgrace

That J upiter mov’d to step intohis place ;

AndMars we allknow was a quarrelsome bully,That beat all his neighbours most unmercifullyAnd nowwho can doubt who these gentlemen are

Saturn, J upiter,Mars,— Sophi, Sultan, and Czar.

But to prove nearer home that the stars have not trifl’d,

P ray have we not lost (cruelstar Doctor Byfield?

A las!friends at Richard’s, alas !what a chasm

W ill be made in the annals of enthusiasm!

As soon as the comet? appear’d in the sky,

P ray did not the Doctor straight sickcn and die?

Iwonder how folks could discover a cometAndyet never draw this plain consequence from it?

The death of the Regent : might shew, if it needed,W hy they saw it in France so much plainer than we did.

Andhowwell it forebodes to our nobles andprinces,That its tail was here shorter by several inches.But so near to the Eagle this comet appear

’d,

That something may happen , it is to be fear’d ;

G reat men have been known by the arms which they bore,But G od bless the Emperor, —I say no more .

D r. Byfield, a chemist of an extravagant gen ius. and inven tor oftheSol volatile olcosum. The author had frequent skirmishes of wit andhumour with him at Richard

’

s Coffee -House, and upon his death wrote

the following short epitaph impromptu

Hic jacet Doctor Byfield, diu volatilis,tandem fixus .

After having longflown about, here at lengthD r. Byfield lies at rest.

The epigrammatic turn of the medicalwords is nearlv lost in a literaltranslation . Their spirit is, perhaps, better preserved in the followingexpansion of the idea.

Of ev’ry fragrant essence rifl

’

d,Herc lies what’s left ofDoc tor Byfield ;Seal

’

d up within his paren t earth,No more can he difl

'

use his m irth ;Nor from that store- room in his pateCan any wit eraporate ;For his smooth tongue, once volatile

,

Now fix ’

d, remains for ever still.

t It was seen in September, 1723 .

1 P hilip, Duke ofOrleans, Regen t of France during the m inority ot

Lewis X V . He died in December, 1723 ; a period sufficient ] h our forcausing our vam astrologer to impute that catastrophe to maliglinfluence of the comet.

21

And newfor th’ eeclipse,wwhich 13 suchan appearanceAs perhapswill not happen for many a year hence ;The §King ofFrance died, the last totaleclipseOf amortification near one of his hips ;From whence by our artmay be plain lymade outThat some great man or other must die at this bout ;The eclipse 13 not yet, a king

’s death 13 there neither,

So there’s time enough left to predict about either.

Yet two that are safe I shal l venture to name,Men of figure and parts and unspotted in fame ;W ho, allpartieswill own , are, and always have beenG reat ornaments to the high station they

’re

O

in ,Admir’d ofallsides,who wil l therefore rej oice,W hen, consulting the stars, I pronounce it their voice,That for all this eclipse, no harm shall befalThose two honest G iants that are in G uildhall .

So much for great men- I come now to predict

W hat evils in general wil l Europe afflict :

Now the evils that conjurers tel l from the stars

Are plague, famine andpestilence, bloodshed andContagious diseases, great losses of goods,G reat burnings by fire, and great drownings by floods,Hail, rain, .frost and snow, storms of lightning and thunderAnd if none of these happen,

’twill be a greatwonder.

§Lewis the X IV . died September i 4th, 17 15, five mon ths and four

days after a total eclipse of the Sun . That distance of time answeredthe star-

gazer’

s purpose,aswellas iftheKing had died during the eclipse

22

CONTENTM ENT,

Or the HAP P Y WORKMAN’ls SONG .

I AM apocr workman as rich as a J ew,

A strange sort of tale, but however’

tis true ;C ome, listen awhile and I’llprove it to you

So as nobody can deny,&c.

I am a poorworkman,you’ll easily grant,

Yet I’m richas a J ew, for there

’s nothing I want,

I have meat,drink, and clothes, and am hearty and cant;‘

Which nobody &c.

I livem a cottage, and yonder it stands

Andwhile I can workwith these two honest hands,I’m as happy as they that have houses and lands,

W hich nobody&c.

I keep tom workmanship all the day long,I sing andIwhistle, and this is my song,Thank G od,who has made me so lusty and strong,

Which nobody are.

I never am greedy ofdelicate’fare,

IfG od give me enough, though’tis ever so bare,

The more is his love, and the less is my care ;W hich nobody &c.

My clothes on aworking day looken but lean,But when I can dress me , on Sundays Imean,Tho’

cheap, they are warm ; and tho’coarse, they are clesa

W hich nobody &c.

Folk cry out“hard times,

”but I never regard,

For I ne’er did, nor will set my heart

‘

rupo’th

’ward;So

’tis all one to me, thin they easy or hard,

W hich nobody &c.

Cheerful. t Upon the world.

23

I envy not themthat have thousands ofpounds,That sport o

’er the countrywith horses and hounds;

There’s nought but contentment can keep within bounds,W hich nobody are.

I ne’er losemy time o’er a pipe or a pot,

Nor cower in a nook like a sluggardly sot,

But I buywhat iswanting with what I have got.W hich nobody &c.

And if I have more than Iwant for to spend,I help a poor neighbour or diligelit friend;He that gives to the poor, to the Lord be doth lend.

W hich nobody due.

I grudge not that gentlefolkdressen so fine ;At their gold and their silver I never repine ;But Iwish all their guts were as hearty as mine,

W hich nobody &c.

W ith quarrels 0’th’ country andmatters of state

,

W ith Tories andW higs I ne’er puzzle my pate ;

There are some that I love, but none that I hate,Which nobody &c.

What tho’ my condition be ever so coarse,

I strive to embrace it for better andworse,And my heart, I thank G od, isas 1 my purse,

W hich no

Whatever, in short, my condition may be,’Tis G od that appoints it as far

'

as I see,And I’m sure I can never do better than he,

Which nobody &c.

DISSECTION OF A BEAU’

S HEAD .

Addison'

s paper on this subject in the Spectator, No . 275, is here

so wellu n ified as, on a perusal of both productions,would makeit diflicult to determine,whether of them had been first composed.

But ourauthor copied the substance of his rhymes from Addison‘

s

prose, for his own amusement.

W E found by our glasses, that what at first sightKppear

’d to be brains was another thing quite ;A heap of strange stufl

'

fill’d the ho les of his skull,

W hich perhaps serv’d the owner aswel l to the full.

Andas Homer acquaints us, (who certainly knew)That are blood of the G ods was not real and true,On ly something that had a resemblance thereto,Some such likeness to brain has the brain of a Beau.

The P ineal G land,where the soul’s residence is,Smelt desp

’rately strong ofperfumes and essences ;

W ith a bright horny substance encompass’daround,

That in numberless forms, like a diamond,was ground;I

'

nsomuch that the spirit, if anywas there,Must have kept pretty constantwithin its own sph

Having bus‘neSs enough,without seeking new traces,

To employ allits time with its own pretty faces.

In the head’s hinder part there was Brussels and Mechlin

W ithribands, and fringes, and such‘

kind of tackling ;B illet-doux,andsoft rhymes l in

’d the whole cerebellum

,

Op’ra songs, and prick

’d dances,as

’twere upon vel lum

A brown kind of lump, thatwe ventur’d to squeeze,

Dispers’d in plain Span ish, and made us all sneeze.

In short, manymore of the like kind of fancies

Too tedious to tell, fill’

d up other vacancies .

On the sides ofthis headwere in several pursesOn the right, sighs and vows ; on the left, oaths and curses ;

These each sent a duct to the root of the tongue,From whence to the tip theywent jointly along.

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26

He ate andhedrank,just like one of the crowdFor the rest,— he dress

’

d finely, laugh’d often, talk

’

d loud,In his way he had talents, sometimes ata ballThe beau shew

’d his parts and outcaper’d ’

em all.

Some ladies, they say, tookthe beau for a wit,But, truly, there lay in his head nota bit.

He was cut of,alas!in the flow’r ofhis age

B an eminent cit, thatwas put in a rage :

T e beauwas, it seems, complimenting his wife,W hen excessive civility cost him his life ;For his eminence tooku an oldparing shove l,And on the hardgroun leftmygem

’man to grovel .

Having finish’d our work,we began to replaceThebrain,such as

’twas, in its own proper case.

In a fine piece of scarlet we laid it in state,And resolv

’d to prepare so extraordinary a pate

W hichwould eas’ly be done, ,our anatomist thought,Having foundmany tubes, that alreadywere fraughtW ith akind ofa substance he took for Mercurial,Lodg

’d there, he suppcs’d,long before the bcau

’s burial.

The head laidaside, then he tookup the heart,W hichhe likewise laid openwith very great art,Andwith many particulars trulywemet,That gave usgreat insight into the coquetteBut having, kind reader, already tra ress

’d

Too much on your patience,we’ l l let e heart rest ;

Having giv’a you the bean for to-day

’s speculation ,

W e’ll reserve the coquette for another occasion.

A SONG .

WHY,prithee now,whatdoes it signifyFor to hustle and make sucha rout?

It is virtue alone that can dignify,W hether clothed in ermine or clout.

C ome, come, and maintain thy discretion ;Let itact amore generous part ;

For I find by thy honest confession,That the world has too much of thy heart.

Beware that its fatalascendancyBo

‘not tempt thee to mope and repine;

W ith a humble and hopeful dependencyStil l await the goodpleasure divine.

Success in a hi her beatitude

Is the end 0 what’s under tbe'pole;

A philosopher takes it with gratitude,And believes it is best on the whole.

Theworld is a scene, thou art sensible,Upon which, ifwe do but our best,

On a wisdom that’s incomprehensibleW e may safely rely for the rest.

Then trust to its kind distribution,And however things happen to fall,

P rithee, pluck up a good resolutionTo be cheerfuland thankful for all.

28

EXTEMP ORE VERSES

On a Trial of Skill betwen Messrs . Flea and SUTTON,

The Two great Masters of the noble Science ofDefence.

LONG was the great Figg, b the prize-fighting swains,Sole monarch acknowledg

’d of ary

-bone plains ;To the townsfar andnear didhis valour extend,And swam down the river fromThame to G ravesend,W here bv’

d MasterSutton,pipe-maker by trade,

W ho hearing that Figgwas thought such a stout blade,Resolv’

d to put in for a share of his fame,And so sent to chal lenge the champion ofThame.

W ith alternate advantage two trials had pasa’d,

W hen they fought out the rubbers on W ednesdayTo see such a contest the house was so full,There hardly was room left to thrust in your skull.W ith a prelude of cudgels we first were saluted,And two or three shoulders most handsomelyfluted ;Till wearied at last with inferior disasters,All the company cried,

“Come! the masters!the masters .

W hereupon the bold Sutton firstmounted the stage,‘

Made his honours, as usual, andyearn’d to engage ;

Then Figg witha visage so fierce and sedate,Came and enter

’d the list with his fresh- shaven pate .

Their arms were encircled by armigers two,W ith a red ribbon Sutton

’

s, and Figg’swith a blue

Thus adorn’d the two heroes

’twixt shoulder and e lbow.

On commencing shook hands, and the watch-word was“ Bilbo.

”

Sure such a concern in the eyes of spectators

W as never yet seen in our amphitheatres

Our Commons and P eers, from their several places.To halfan inch distance allpointed their faces ;

29

W hile the rays ofold P hoebus that shot through the sky- light,Seem

’d to make on the stage a new kind of twilight;

And the G ods, without doubt, ifone could but have seen’em,

‘Vcre peeping there thro’to do justice between

’em.

Figg struck the first stroke, andwith such a vast fury,That he broke his huge weapon in twain, I assure ye ;And ifhis brave rival this blowhad not warded,His head from his shoulders had quite been discarded.

Figg again arm’

d hitnself, they took t’other tilt,

And then Sutton’s blade ran away from its hilt.

The weaponswere frighted, but as for the men,In truth they ne

’er minded, but at it again .

Such a force in their blows,you’d have thought it awonder

Ev’ry stroke they receiv

’d did not cleave them asunder ;

Yet so great was their courage, so equal their skil l,That they both seem

’d as safe as a thief in a mill

W hile in doubtfulattention dame V ictory stood,Andwhich side to take could not tell for her blood,But remain

’dwithout moving an inch either way,

L ike the ass in the tale ’twixt two bottles ofhay

Till J ove to the G ods signified his intention,In a speech that he made them, too tedious to mention ;The upshot of itwas, that, at that very bout,From awound in Figg

’s side the hot blood spouted out.

Her Ladyship then seem’d to think the case plain ;

But Figg stepping forth, with~ullen di sdain,

Shew’d the gash, and appeal

’d to the company round,

‘

If his own broken sword had not giv’a him the wound.

That bruises andwounds a man’s spirit should touch

W ltll danger so little, with honour so much!W ell, they both took a dram, return

’d to the battlo ,

And with a fresh fury they made the swords rattle ;W hile Sutton’

s right arm was observed to bleed

By a touch from his rival, so J ove had decreed

Enough just to shew that his blood was not Icor.

But made up, like Figg’s, of the common red liquor .

Again they both rush’dwith so equal a fire on ,

That the company cried, Hold! enough c t'

co ltl iron !

To the Quarter Staff. now,lads !” So first havmg

dramm’d it,

They took to their wood, and i’faith never sham

’

d it.

80

The first bout they hadwas so fair and so handsome,That to make a fair bargain

’twas worth a king

’s ransom;

And Sutton such bangs to his neighbour im rted,W ould have made any fibres but Figg

’s to ve

Then after that bout they went on to another;But the matter must end in some way or other ;So J ove told the G ods he had made a decree,That Figg should hit Sutton a stroke on the knee.

Though Sutton, disabled as soon as he hit him,

W ould stil l have fought on, but J ovewould not per- ii”l

‘was his fate not his fault, that made him to ield;And thus the great Figg became Lord of the eld.

Now after such men, who can bear to be toldOfyour Roman and G reek puny heroes of old?

To compare such poor dogs as‘ Alcides and Theseus

To Sutton and Figg would be very facetious.

W ere great Hector himself, with Apol lo to back him,

To encounter with Sutton , how Well he would thwack him!Or Achilles, tho

’old mother Thetis had dipp

’d him,

W ith Figg,— bow grandly would our brave man haveunripp

’d him.

To Caesar and P ompey, for want of things juster,W e compare these brave boys, but

’twill never pass muster.

Did those mighty ,

fe llows e’er fight hand to fist once?No, I thank you, they kept at a laudable distance.W hat is P ompey the G reat, with his armour begin ,

To the much greater Sutton who fought in his shi rt ;Or is Figg to be pair

’dwith a cap-a-

pee'

Roman,W ho scorn

’d any fence but a jol ly abdomen?

Hercules, the grandson ofAlcaus.

3 1

V E R S E S

Spoken at the Free G rammar School, in Manchester,

On the Commencement of a Vacation.

- THE THREE BLACK CROWS.

A TALE.

TALE Thatwill raise the question, I. suppose,W hat can the meaning be of three black crows?”

It is a London story, you must know,

And happen’d, as they say, some time ago.

The meaning of it custom would suppressTill to the end we come : nevertheless,Tho’ it may vary from the use ofold

To tell the moral ere the tale be told,W e

’ll give a hint for once, how to applyThe meaning first ; then hang the tale thereby.

P eople full oft are put into a potherFor want ofunderstanding one another ;And strange amusing stories creep about,That come to nothing if youtrace them out ;

Lies of the day perhaps, ormouth, or year,W hich, having serv

’d their purpose, disappear.

From which, meanwhile, disputes of every size,

That is to say, misunderstandings rise,The springs of ill, from hick

’ring up to battle,

From wars and tumults, down to tittle tattle.

Such, as for instance, (for we need not roam

Far off to find them, but come nearer home ;)Such as befalby sudden misdiviningOn cuts, on coals, on boxes. and on signing,

3 2

Or on what now, in the affair ofmills,To us and you portends such serious ills .

To note how meanings that were never meant.

By eager giving thein too rash assent,W ill fly about, just like so many crows

Of. the same breed ofwhich the story goes,It may, at least it should, correct a zealThat hurts the public or the private weal .

Two honest tradesmen meeting in the strand

One took the other briskly by the hand;Hark ye,

’said he,

’tis an odd story this

About the crows!’ I don’t knowwha t it is,

’

Replied his friend. No ! I’

m surpris’

dat that,W here I come from it is the common chat.

But you shal l hear,— an odd affair indeed!

And that it happen’d, they are allagreed.

Not to detain you from a thing so strange,A gentleman that lives not far from Change,This week, in short, as all the al ley knows,Taking a puke, has thrown up Three B lack C rows!

’

0

Impossible .

" Nay, but indeed’tis true ;

I have it from good hands, and so may you

From whose, I pray?’— So, having nam

’d the man,

Straight to enquire his curious comrade ran .

S ir, did you tell’— relating the affair,

Yes, Sir, I did; and if ’tis worth your care,

Ask Mr’

. Such-a- one, he told it me ;But, by the bye,

’twas Two black crows, not Three .

’

Resolv’d to trace so wond’rous an event,

W hip to the third the virtuoso went.Sir

’-and so forth W hy, yes ; the thing is fact ;

Tho’ in regard to number not exact

Itwas not Two black crows,’twas on ly One ;

The truth ofthat you may rely upon .

The gentleman himself told me the case .

’

Where may Ifind him?’ W hy, in such a place.

’

Away goes he, and having found him out,‘Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt,

’

Some localmatters were then in agitation at Manchester, particu

larly an ap lication to P arliament‘ s: a Bill to abrogate the custom 01

grmdingw cat at the SchoolM ills.

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3 4

W'

henMartin Luther first grew into fame'

,

His fol lowers obtain’d a double name ;

Some call’d them Martinists, and some again

ExP ress’d by Lutherans these pious men .

Their meaningwas the sinus , and same the ground ;But mark the force of di tf

’rence in the sound

Two zealous proselytes to his reform,

W hich then had rais’d an universal storm,

Meeting by chance upon a public walk,Soon made re ligion subject of their talkIts low condition both dispos

’d to own,

Andhow corrupt the church ofRome was grown .

In this preliminary point indeed,Tho

’strangers to each other, they agreed

But, as the times had bred some other chiefs,W ho undertook to cure the common griefs,They were oblig

’d, by farther hints, to find

Ifin their choice they both were ofa mind.

After somewinding of their words about,To seek this secondary problem out,

I am, declar’d the bolder of the two,

A Marlm ist, and so, I hope, are you.

No,’said the other, growing somewhat hot,

But I’llassure you, Sir, that I am not;

I am a Lutheran, and live or die," Shall not be any thing besides, not I.

’

If not a Martinist, his friend replied,Truly I care not what you are beside.

The fray began, which critics may suppose,But for spectators, would have come to blows ;And so they parted, matters halfdiscuss

'

d,W ith equaltokens of complete disgust.

The prose account in Doctor More, I think,

Relates this story of two clowns in drink.

The verse has cloth’d it in a different strain

But either way this gentle hint is plain,That

’tis a foolish bus’ness to commence

Disputes on words, W ithout regard to sense.

Suchwas the case of these two partizans ;Another I have heard, a single man

’s,

Still more absurd, if possible . than this

Must I go on and tel l it you? (Chorus.) Yes, y

3 5

A certain artist, I forget his name,Hadgot for making spectacles a fame,Or HELP S TO READ, which when they firstwere soldWaswritten, on his glaring sign , in gold.

And for alluses to be had from glass,His were allow’d all others to surpass.

There came a man into his shop one day,Are you the spectacle- contriver, pray?

’

Yes , Sir, said he, I can in that affa irContrive to please you, if ifou want a pair.

Can you? P ray do then .

’So at first he chose

To,place a young ish pair across his nose,

And book produc’d, to see how they would fit

Ask’d how he lik’

d ’em Like

’em ! not a bit!

’

Then , S ir, Ifancy, if you please to try,These in my hand will better suityour eye.

No, but they don’t.

’ Well, come, S ir, ifyouplease,Here is another sort, we

’ll nowtry these ,

Still somewhat more they magnify the letter,Now, S ir. W hy now— I

’

m not a hit the better.

’

No Here take these, that magnify stillmoreHow do theyfit? L ike all the rest before.

’

In short, they tried a whole assortment thro’

,

But all in vain, for none of them would do.

The Operator much surpris’d to find

80 odd a case, thought—sure the man is blind!

t at sort of eyes can you have got? said he ;W hy, very good ones, friend, as you may see.

’

Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ballP ray, let me ask

-

you, can you read at all

No, you great blockhead! IfI could, what needOf paying you for any HELP S TO READ?

’

And so he left the maker in a heat,Resolv

’d to post him for an arrant cheat.

AP E AND THE FOX ,

Or the Fruits of G reediness and Cn dulity,

A FAB“ :

Spoken on thesame occasion as the preceding,

OLD Esop so famous was‘

certain ly right

In the way that he took to instruct and de light,By giving to creatures, beasts, fishes, and birds,Nay to things, tho

’inanimate , language andwords.

Thus he gain’d by his fables the attention ofyouth,

And forc’d even fiction to tell them the truth.

They’re not quickly forgotten, since man is more abb

To retain a true hint in the shape ofa fable ;Andallusions to nature insensibly raise

Reflections suggested by fabular phrase,W hich afford less exception for cavil to find,W hile the moral more gently slides in to the mind.

Thus to hint that a kingdom will flourish themost,W here each man in high station is fit for his postThat disgraces attend both on person and station,If regard be not had to due quali fication,He invented, they te l l us , this fable ofold,W hich the place where I stand, now requires to be told.

The beasts, on a time when the lion was dead,Met together in councilto choose them a head ;The fox, being fam

’d for his cunning and wit,

W as propos’d to their choice ; but they did not think fit

To elect such a sharper, lest, watching his hour,He. should cunningly creep into absolute pow

’r.

3 7

They’d no fear from the ape ofbeing so rid;

Hewouldmind his diversion, and do as they did.

Soto give to their new constitution a shape

Resembling the human, they fix’d on the ape ;

Theycrown’d and proclaim

’d him by parliament plan,

And never was monkey so like to a man.

Sly Reynard, on this, was resolv’d to expose

P oor P ug, whom the senate so formally chose ;And having observ

’d in his rambles a ginWhere a delicate morse l was nicely hung in,He let the king know what a prize he had found,And the waste where it lay was his Majesty

’s ground.

Shew me where,’

said the ape ; so the treasure wasshewn,

Which he seiz’dwith paw royal to make it his own ;

But the gin at the time was dispos’d to resist,

And clapping together caught pug by the wrist,Who perceiv

’d by his fingers laid fast in the stocks,

What a trick had been play’

d by his subject the fox’

.

Thou traitor said he, but I’llmake thee an'

on

An example ofvengeance and so he went on,

With a rage most monarchical. Reynard, who ey’d

The success ofhis scheme, gave a sigh and reply’d

Well, adieu! RoyalSir,’twas a cruelmishap,

Thatyour Maj esty’

s G race did not understand trap.

3 8

V E R S E S

IN P RAISEor SACRED P OESY.

SP OKEN ON THE SAIIE OCCASION AS THE P RECBDING .

Dulccs ante omnia Muse .

VlR G . G eorg. Lib. i i . 4755.

Sweet abate allthings are the Muses .

OF all companions that a man can choose,Methinks the en eetest i s an honest inuse ;Ready wnli subj ect proper, in due time,To cheer tne W i th harmony oi rhyme ;O t all the muses, for they tc il o i nine,Melpomene , s“eet hon ing Mel. be mine.

Hers is the friendly and judicious partTo C led r the head. to animate the heart;The i r

'

kindred torccs , lemp’

ri iig, to unite ;G rave to lns tl

‘

l l , and W i tty to delightW ith udamein cool, W ith passions rightly warm,

She g ives to numbers all their strength and charm.

Her lines, whatever the occasion he,Flow without lm‘

C lllg, naturaland free ;No s ti ti

’n ing of them W ith poetic starch,

W hether her hard is to be grave or arch;Of various topics which the times produceShe prompts the fittest for the present

'

use.

On piety when called to attend,VVeli pleas

’d she decks her sacred, best lov

’d friend

Rc iigion , V irtue, morale , and good sense

Deck’d W i ll) a grace, she arms with a defence

W hatever tends to bene iit the mind

SetsMel. to work, true triend of human kind.

3 9

A foe she is,—but void of rancour, —foeTo all the noisy bustlings here below,

To all contention, clamour, or debate,That plagues a constitution

, church, or state,Thatplagues a man

’s own self, or makes himwil l

His other self, —his neighbour,—any ill.

L ife, as Mel. thinks, a short, uncertain lease,Demands the fruits of friendship and of peace ;Arms and the man” her sister C lio sings,

To her she leaves your heroes and your kings,To sound the present, or to act the past,T o tread the stage in buskiii and bombast.

W ith nymphs and swains fondMel. would strew the fields,W ith flocks and herds, instead of spears and shields ;Recall the scenes that blest a golden age,E re mutual love gave way to martial rage ,And bards high soaring above simpler phrase,To genuine light preferr

’d the artful blaze.

She scorns alike ignobly to rehearse

The spiteful satire, or the venal verse ;

Free in her praise , and in her censure too,True merit or amendment is her View;A rising worth stillhigher to exalt,O r save a culpri t from a future fault.

No sour, pedantical, abusive rage,N o vicious rant dehles her freest page ;N o sally vile, indecent, or profane,

To please low fools, or give the wise a pain ;Her mirth is aim

’d to mend us, ifwe heed,

’T is what the chastest of her sc i; may read.

She looks on various empires, various men,As all one tribe, when she directs the pen ;

She loves the Briton , and she loves the G aul ,Swede, Russ, or Turk, —she W ishes we l l to all;They allare men, allsons of the

'

same Sire,A nd must be allbelov

’d, ifMel. inspire.

It would rejoice her votaries to see

AllEurope, Asia, Africa agree.

But the newworld, new England‘

s dire alarm !

Should not Melpomene now sing to arms?”

No ; she must ever wishallwars to cease ;

W hile folks are fighting, she must holdher pews,

Content to hope that, what events are dueW ill bless new England, and old England tooShe

’s to fair trade a friend, free navigation,

A friend to Spain, but foe to depredation ;And friend to France, but let heroic C lioDemolish French encroachments at Ohio.

Safe from allforeign and domestic foes

Be allyour liberties in verse or prose !

Be safe abroad your colonies and trade,From G uards - oestrus and from G asconade!

At home your l ives, your acres, and your bagMay plots against you vanish into raga!

Be it observ’d in my concluding line,

G reat part of safety rests with you - in fine,Home, or abroad, the world is but a school,W here all things roll. to teach one central rule ;That is, Ifyouwould prosper anddo well,Love one another, and rememberMel.

"

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42

Down came the son, on hearing this account,And begg

’d and pray

’d. and made his father mount ;

Till a third party on a larther stretch,Exclaim

’

d, See !see that old hard- hearted wretch!How like a j ustice there he Sits, or squire,W hile the poor lad keeps wading through the mire l

"

Stop,’cried the lad, still deeper vex

’d in mind,Stop, father, stop ; let me get on behind.

’

This done, they thought they certainly should please,Esmpe reproaches, and ride on at ease

For having tried each practicable way,W hat could be left for j okers now to say?

They were accosted next in surly tone,

Hark ye, you fellows ! Is that ass your own?

G et ofl'

;— for shame! Or one ofyou at least;

You both deserve to carry the poor beast,Ready to drop down dead upon the road

W ith such a huge, uncoiiscionable load.

On this they both dismounted, and some say,C ontriv

’d to carry like a truss of hay,

The ass between ’em .

—P rints, they add, are seen

W ithman . and lad, and slingi ng ass betweenOthers omit that fancy in the print,As overstraining an ingenious hint.

The copy thatwe fol low says, the man

Rubb’d down his ass ; pursu

’d his first- form

’d plan ;W alk’d to the fair, and sold him , got his price,And gave his son this pertinent advice,Let talkers talk; stick than to uhat i s best

To think ofpleasing all is but a jest.

43

V E R S E S

ON THE TRANSMIG RATION OF SOULS.

Spoken on thesameOccasion as thepreceding .

In nova fert animus mntatas dicere formas Corpora.

OVID . Men u . 1 . 1,

My mind excites me to discourse aboutforms changed intofree].bodies.

P YTHAG ORAS, an ancient sage, opin’d

That form and shape were indexes ofmind ;That minds ofmen, when they departed hence,W ould allbe form

’d according to this sense,

Some animal, or human shape again,W ould shewwhat had been souls of former men.

Let us adopt this transmigration plan,And mark how animal exhibits man ;Tyrants, for instance,

- to begin with thoseW ho cause the greatest noise, the greatest woes,Of their dominion lions are the key,That reign in deserts now, and hunt their prey ;Sometimes detli ron

’d, and brought upon a stage,O r coop

’d, like Bajazet, within a cage ;For sixpence, safe from alltyrannic harms,One may see kings, perhaps at the K ing

’s Am ,

See savage monarchs, who had sliewn beforeThe tusky temper of the wildest boar,V ested in proper shape , when they are dead,Revived, caught, and shewn at the Boar

’s Head.

In some tam’d elephant our eyes may scan

The once rich, overgrown , half- reas

’ning man

MyLordhad sense to wind into his mawAllwithin reach, that lay wi

'hin the law;W hat would have fed a thousand months was sunkTo fillhis own, by monstrous length of trunk.

44

He grew towondrous grandeur, liv’d a show,

And stones high raised tell where he’s laid low;By transmigration it appears, at least,That such great man is but a bulky beast.

From animals that once were men, to passTo men of nearly now ambiguous class,P layers, and harlequins, and pantomimes,W ho sel l their shapes to mimic men and times,W ith allthe servile, second- handed tribe

Of imitators, endless to describe,In their own figures when they come to range,W ith small transition into monkies change

For now men-monkies have not in their viewW hat should be done by men , but what they do.

Oftempers, by inferior forms express’d,

And seen for nothing, somethi ng may be guess’d.

W hen the sly fox ensnares the silly geese,W ho does not see that mind is of a piece

W ith former Lawyers, who devour’d by far

The sil lier clients, drawn into the bar?

W hy not P hysicians?”hear the lawyer say,

Are they not too as wily in their way .9 ”

W hy, yes, dear Barrister,— but then they own

The shapes in which their cunning arts are shewnSerpents confess, around the rod entwin’

d,W ily, or wise, the Esculapian kind.

W hy not Divines?” the doctor may object,They have devourers too in cv

’ry sect.

”

True — but if one devour, a dismal, grim,

And proper transmigration waits for him ;In human shape when he has spent his years,Stripp

’d of sheep

’s clothing the true wolfappears.

’Tis plain in quadrupeds ; now let us tryW hat instance first occurs in such as flyThe parrot shews by its unmeaning prate,Full many a talker’s metamorphos

’d fate,W hose tongue outstrips the clapper ofa mill,And keeps on saying

the same nothing still ;As full the city, an as ful l the court,

As India’s woods with creatures ofthis sort.

45

If right the ayly feather’d bird foretell!

The future shape ofchatty beaux and bel les,They, transmigrated, will, l ike human dolls,Talk on, and shine caress

’

d as “pretty polls.

”

Be lles, you may see, pursue a butterfly,W

'

ith paintedwmgs, which flutter in the sky,And, sparkling, to the solar rays unfoldRed mix

’d with purple , green with shining gold

W onder not at the fond pursuit, for, knowThat this same butterfly was once a beau,And, dress

’d according to the newest whim,

Ran after them as they run after him.

Footed or flying alldecipher men

Enough to add another instance, then,A supple courtier, little creeping thing,That takes new colours as there comes new king,L ives upon airy promi ses and dies ;His transmigration can be no surprise,The low Chameleon’

s shape he comes to share,Still changes colours, and still feeds on air.

By his ingenious fiction in the end,W hat could the wise P ythagoras intend?Too wise a man not to intend a clueTo that great change? which lit

’rally is true.

The solar system ofour boasted age

W as known of old to this enlighten’d sage ;

80 might his thoughts on man’s immortal soul,

Howe’er express

’

d, be right upon the wholeHe meant, one need not scruple to aflirm,

This real truth by transmigration term.

Our tempers here must point to the degree

In which hereafter we design to be.

From vice in m i nds undoubtedlywil l growMore ugly shapes than any liere below;But sacred Virtue , piety, and love,W hat beauteous forms willthey produce above !

The that have done good shall come forth unto the resurrection of'

e ; an they that have done evilunto the resurrection of damnation .

“h V. 3 9 .

46

THE P OND.

At qui taatulo sget, qua k es! opus, is neqne lia o

Turbulent Misf it !quasi , acqu ain t: m itt“in studio.

Bonn . SAT. Lib. i. 1. 59.

But he who Wants only just as much as is necessary, neither

draws up inuddy water, nor loses his life in the waves.

ONCE on a time a certain man was found,That had a pond ofwater in his ground,A fine large pond ofwater fresh and clear,

Enough to serve his turn for many a year.

Yet so itwas, a strange, unhappy dread

Ofwantingwater se iz’

d the fellow’s head.

W hen hewas dry, he was afraid to drink

Too much at once, for fear his pond should sink.

P erpetually tormented with this thought,He never ventur’d on a heartydraught;Still dry, stillfearing to exhaust his store,W hen half refresh

’d he frugally gave o

’

er ;

Reviving ofhimself reviv’d his fright,

Better,”quothhe to be half choak

’d than quite .

Upon his pond continually intent,In cares and pains his anxious life he spent

Consuming allhis time and strength away,To make the pond rise higher ev

’ry day;

He wrought and slav’d, yet Oh, howslow it fills

P our’d in by pailfuls, and took out by gills.

In a wet season he would skip about,P lacing his buckets under ev

’ry spout,

From falling show’rs collecting fresh supply,

And grudging ev’ry cloud that pas

-ted byCursing the dryness of the times each hour,Altho’ it raiu’ti as fast as it could pour.

Then he _would wade thro’ ev’ry dirty spot,

Where any little moisture could be got;

47

Andwhen he had done draining off a hog,Still kept himselfas dirty as a hog,And cried, whene

’er folks blam

’d him, W hat d’yemean?

It costs aworld ofwater to be clean .

If some poor neighbour call’

d to slake his thirst,W hat, rob my pond! I

’ll see the rogue hang

’

d first.

A burn ing shame these vermin of the poor

Should creep unpunish’d thus about my door!

As if I had not frogs and toads enow,

That suck my pond whatever I can do.

The sun stil l found him, as he rose or set,

Always in quest ofmatters thatwere wet.Betimes he rose to sweep the morning dew,

And rested late to catch the ev’ning too .

W ith fsoughs and troughs he labour

’d to enrich

The risi ng pond, from ev’ry neighb

’ring ditch.

W i th soughs, and troughs, and pipes, and cuts, sluices,From growmg plants he drain

’d the very juices ;

Made ev’ry stick ofwoodupon the hedges

Ofgood behaviour to deposit pledges ;By some conveyance or another, stillDeV is

’d recruits from each declining hil l

He left, in short, for this beloved plunder,No stone unturn

’

d, that could have water under.

Sometimes, when forc’d to quit his awkward toil,

And, sore against‘

his will, to rest a“hile,Then straight he took his book, and down he sat

To calculate th’expences he was at,

How much he sufl'

er’

d at a mod’rate guess,

From allthoseways by which the pond grew less ;For as to those by whi ch it still grew bigger,For them he recken

’

d not a single figure

He knewa W ise, old saying, which mai ntain’d,

That’twas bad luckto count what one had gain

’d.

First, for myself, —my daily charges here

Cost a prodig ious quanti ty a year ;

Altho’

, thank heaven, I never boil my meat,Nor am I sucha sinner as to sweat :

D rains.

48

But things are some to sucha pass, indeed,W e spend ten times the water thatwe need.

P eople aregrown.with washing, cleansing, rinsing,So finicaland nice, past allconvincin

So many proud,fantastic modes, in s ort,

Are introduc’d, that mypoor pond pays for

’t.

‘

Not but I could bewell enough contentW ith what upon my own account is spent;But those large articles fromwhich I reapNo kind ofprofit, strike me on a heap.

W hat a vast deal, eachmoment, at a sup,This ever thirsty earth itse lfdrinks up!Such holes and gaps l—Alas !my pond providesScarce for its own unconscionable sides .

Nay, how can one imagine it should thrive,So many creatures as it keeps alive!That creep from ev

’ry nook and corner, marry!

Filchingas muchas ever they can carry.

Then all the birds that fly along the airLight at my pond, and come in for a share.

Item—at ev’ry pufl

'

ofwind that blowsAway at once the surface ofit goes,The rest, in exhalations to the sun ;One month’s fair weather, and I am undone .

This life he led formany a year together,G rew old and grey in watching ofthe weather ;Meagre as death itself, till this same death8t0pp

’

d, as the saying is, his vital breath.

For as th’ old fool was carrying to his fieldA heavier burden than he wel l couldwield,He miss

’d his footing, or some howhe fumbledIn tumbling of it ih ,— but in he tumbled.

Mighty desirous to get out again,He scream

’d, and scrambled,but ’twas all in vain ;

The place was grown so very deep andwide,Nor bottom of it could he feel, nor side;So in the middle of his pond he died.

W hat think‘ye now, from this imperfect sketch,

My friends, 0 such a miserable wretchWhy

’tis awretch,we think, ofyour own making ;

No fool can be suppos’

d in such a taking :

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50

Hard is the case , now I look sharp into’

t,

That honesty should trudge i’th

’dirt on foot ;

That honesty should wear its bottoms out,So many empty horses round about.

Besides, shal l honesty be chok’

d with thirst?W ere it my Lord Mayor

’s horse, - l

’d nim it first.

And, by the bye , my lad,- no scrubby tit

There is the best that ever wore a bit

Not far from lience,’— I take you, quoth his friend,

Is not you stable, Tom, ourj ourney’s end?

G oodwits will jump - both meant the very steed,The top o

’

th’

country, both for shape and speed :

So to’t they went; and, with a halter round

His feather’d li eck, they nimm’

d him off the ground.

And now, good people, we should next relateOf these adventurers the luckless fate :P oor Tom — but here the sequel is to seek,Not being yet translated from the G reek.

Some say, that Tom would honestly have’

peach’

d

But by his blabbing friend was over- reach’

d

Others insist upon’t, that both the elves

W ere, in like manner, halter- nimm’

d themselves.

It matters not - the moral is the thing,For which our purpose, neighbours, was to sing.

If it should hit some few amongst the throng,Let them not lay the fault upon the song.

Fair warning all; - he that has got a cap,Now put it on, or else beware a rap ;’Tis but a short one, it is true, but yet

Has a long reachwith it Videlicet,’Twixt right and wrong how many gentle trimmersW ill neither steal, nor filch but will be plaguy

nimmers

51

C A R E L E S S C O N T E N T.

I AM content, I do not care,

W ag as it will the world for me ;W hen fuss and fret was allmy fare,It got no ground as I could see

8 0 when away my caring went,I counted cost, and was content.

W ith more ofthanks, and less of thought,I strive to make my matters meet ;

To seek, what ancient sages sought,P hysic and food in sour and sweet ;

To take what passes in good part,And keep the hiccups from my heart.

W ith good, and gentle humour’d hearts,

I choose to chatwhere’er I come,W hate

’er the subject be that starts ;

But if 1 get among‘ the glum,

I holdmy tongue to tell the troth,And keep my breath to cool my broth.

For chance or change, of peace or pain,For fortune

’s favour, or her frown,

For lack or glut, for loss or gain,I never dodge, nor up, nor down ;

But swingwhat way the ship shall swim,

Or tackabout, W ith equal trim.

I suit notwhere I shal l not speed,Nor trace the turn of ev’ry tide ;

If simple sense wil l not succeed,I make no bustling, but abide;

For shining wealth, or scaring woe,I force no friend, I fear no foe.

The Sullen.

52

Ofups and downs, of ins and outs,Of they arewrong, andwe are right,

I shun the rancours and the routs,And, wishing well to every W ight,

W hatever turn the matter takes,I deem it allbut ducks and drakes.

W ithwhom I feast, I do not fawn,Nor ifthe folks should flout me, faint ;

Ifwontedwelcome be withdrawn,I cook no kind of a complaint ;

W ith none dispos’d to disagree,

But like them best, who he! like me.

Not that I rate myselfthe ruleHow allmy betters should behave ;

But fame shal l findme no man’s fool,

Nor to a set ofmen a slaveI love a friendship free and frank,And hate to bang upon a bank.

Fond ofa true and trusty tie

I never loosewhere’er I link;Though if abus

’ness budges by.

I talk thereon just as I thinkMy word, m work, my heart, my hand,Still, on a sidh, together stand.

If names or notions make a noise,W hatever hap the question bath,

The point impartial ly I poise,And read or write, butwithout

For should I burn or break my brains,P ray, who wil l pay me for my pains?

I love myneighbour as myself,

Mysel like him too, by his leave ;Nor to his pleasure, pow

’r, or pelf,

Came I to crouch, as I c onceiveDame Nature doubtless has design

’d

Aman- the monarch ofhismind.

Now taste and try this temper, Sirs,Mood it, and brood it in your breast ;

53

Or ifyeween, forworldly stirsThat man does right to mar his rest,

Let me be ‘deft and debonair,I am content, I do not care.

ON P ATIENCE,

Written at the request of a friend .

P ART I.

A VERSE on patience?”yes ; but then prepare

Your mind friend T— c— t, with a reading share ;Or else to hear it, rather less than moreItwill impart than youpossess

’d before

If it be mine to write, it is your task

To bear the lineswhich you are pleas'

d to ask.

P atience the theme —A blessed inmate thisThe nursing parent ofour bosom bliss.Abroad for bliss she bids us not to r oam,

But cultivate its real fundat home.

A noble treasure, whenthe patient soulS its in the centre, and surveys the whole

!

The bustling world to fetch her out from thence

W ill urge it’s ev

’ry plausible pretence ;

W ill praise perfections ofa grander name,Sound great exploits, and call her out to fame ;Amuse andflatter, till the soul, too proneTo self-activity, deserts her throne.

Be on your guard ; the hua’ncas of aman

Is properly, to dowhat good he can ;But first at home let patience rule within,W here charity, youknow, must first begin ;Not mon ied love, as fondly understood,But calm, sedate propensity to good.

54

This is the product ofthe virtue, friend,W hich you oblige me here to recommend ;The trial this ofall the rest beside,For, without patience, they are all but pride

A strong ambition shines within its sphere,But proves its weaknesswhen it cannot bear.

There lies the test ; bring ev’ry thing to that;

It shews us plainlywhat wewould be at.

Ofgen’rous actions we may count the sum,

Scarcely their worth, till disappointments come ;Men oft are then most gen

’rousjy absurd,

Their own good actions have their own bad word.

Impotience hates ingratitude, forsooth!

For it discovers this ungrateful truth,That, having done for int

’rest or for fame

Such and such doings, she has lost her aim ;W hile allunthankful people in her debtHave got their ends, and put her in a fret.

P ossess’d of patience, a right humblemind

At allevents is totally resign’d ;

Does good for sake ofgood, not for th’event ;

Leaves that to Heav’n, and keeps to its content ;

G ood to be done it acts ; it bears the ill

To be endur’d, with meek, submissive wil l.

Enough, enough!Now tell me, ifyou please,How best Imay obtain this MENTAL EASE.

”

G odknows, I know not, how it is acquir’d

But this I know, ifheartily desir’d,

W e shallbe thankful for the Donor’s leaveTo ask, to h0pe, to wait til l we receive.

P ART 11.

Virtues, you say, bypatience must be tried ;If that bewanting, they are allbut pride

Ofrule so strict Iwant to have a clue .

”

W el l, ifyou’ ll have the same indulgence too,

And take a fresh compliance in good part,I’lldo the best I can, with allmy heart.

55

P ride is the grand distemper ofthe mind,The source of ev

’ry vice ofev

’ry kind.

That love of self, wherein its essence lies,Excites bad tempers, and affords supplies ;W e coin a world of names for them, but stillAllcomes to—fondnessfor our own dear will.

W e see by facts, upon the triple stage

Ofthis short life, —Youth, Manhood, and old Age,How three conditions common ly bewitch,To be de lighted, - honoured, —and rich.

’Tis selfish pride, ifhuman faults youweigh,That grows fromyoungoto old, from green to grey.

P ride is, indeed, a more accustom’d name

For quest ofgrandeur, eminence, or fame ;But search for pleasure, and for gold, betraysW hat inward principle it is that swaysThe rake

’s young dotage, and the miser

’s old,

The same enslaving love to selfunfold.

Ifpride be thus the fountain ofallvice,W hence mustwe say that virtue has its rise,But from humility?Andwhat, the sure

And certain sign that even this is pure?

For pridewil l like humility appear,W hen nothing comes to precious self too near.

But when provok’d, admit unjustly too,

Then pride disrobes itself; makes much ado ;Then, who can blame the passion ofa pride

That has got reason,- reason on its side

He’s in thewrong, and I am in the right

Resentment, come! Humility, good n ight

Now the criterion, I apprehend,If any, upon whichwe may depend,Is patience,

- is to bear, and to forbear

To which the truly virtuous adhere ;Resolv’d to suffer, without P ro and Con,A thousand evils rather than do one.

To be devoid ofpatience, yet not proud,Is contradiction not to be allow

’d;

Alleyes are open to so plain a cheat,Except those blinded by the self-deceit,W ho, with a like consistency, may tell,That nothing ails them, though they are not well.

Strict is the rule, its consequences true,

However I fall short ofit, or you;

Our stockwe shall augment, if it be small,By dealing in it with our neighbours all

And then, who knows butwe shall, in the end,Learn to have patience with ourse lves, and mend !

REhIARKS

On Dr. Akensitk’

s andMr. Ii’hitehead’

s Verses,

WHICH WERE ADDRESSED TO THE P EOP LE OF ENG LAND,

In the Year 1758 .

these remarks is seen much of a party spirit. They severely comment asan Ode and Verses,which werewritten to excite the martialardoi ir of thecountry soonafter theexecution ofAdmiralByng . Mr. P itt and Mr.Loggia,whowere nofavouriteswith our author,being about that time called intotheAdministration, by their vigorous measures, with the blessing qfHeaven,soon turned the tide of success in ourfacour. Yet it m ast beacknowledgedthat the critical animadoersions on D r. Akenside

’s Ode

, are oeryj i ist andproper.

WHITHER is Europe’s ancient spiritfled?

How came this query iii the Doctor’s

‘ head?

Ode to the country G entlemen of England, 1758.

Rusticorum mascula militantP roles

,Sabellis docta ligonibusVersare glebas . Hor. Lib. 3 . 04 . 6. 3 7 .

A masculine race of country soldiérs, skilled in cultivatingthe earth with Samn ite spades.

Whither is Europe’s anc ient spirit fled ;

Where are those valian t tenan ts of her shore,

Who from the warrior how the strong dart sped,Or W ith firm hand the rapid pole

- axe bore?Freeman and Soldier was their common name

,W ho late with reapers to the furrow came ;Now i n the front of battle charg

’d the foe,And gave the guardian laws their majesty to know.

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58

While real warriors think it alla farceFor them to bounce of either Mors or Mars ;Safe as one sacks it under bloodless bay,And sure as t

’other even death must pay.

’

Nor lose the harvest of your swordsIn a c ivli-war ofwords.

Wherefore teems the shameless press

W ith labour’d births of emptiness?

Let th’undaun ted tG recian teach

The use and dign ity of speech,At whose thunders, nobly thrown,Shrunk the MAN or MAcanon .

If the storm ofwords must riseLet it blast our enemies,Sure and nervous be i t hurl’dOn the P H ILIP S of the world.

G ive to France the honours due,France has chiefs and statesmen too ;Breasts which patriot-

passions feel,Lovers of the common -weal.And when such the foes we brave,Whether on the land or wave,G reater is the pride ofwar,And the conquest nobler far.

But glory which aspires to last,Leans not meanly on thea

past.’Tis the P ansr-zn

'

r now demands

Bri ti sh hearts and British hands.

Curst be he, the willing slave,Who doubts, who lingers to be brave!Curst be the coward tongue, that dareB reathe one accent of despair,Cold as W in ter’

s icy hand

To chill the gen ius of the land.If protec ted commerce keep

Her tenor o’

er yon heaving deep,What have we from war to fear?Commerce steels the nerves ofwar,Heals the havoc rapme makes,And new strength from conquest takes.

If to us indulgent Heaven

N obler seeds of strength has given,Nobler should the produce be ;Brave, yet gen

’rous

,are the free.

1' D emosthenes.

The ingen ious antithesis in these four lines willbe relished by theclassical reader. To the nnlearned the meaning ofthe last lin e will not,perhaps, be obvious . But if it be recollected that D r. Aken s ide was a

physic ian, there will beno difficulty i n drawmg the inferen c e - n of his

tees being paid, whether his advice or prescriptions hastened the deathor the recovery of his patient.

59

But you shall hear what Captain said,W hen he had heard both Ode and Verses read

On mottos—eversibus exacuit,And proles m ilitant

— he mus’d a bit;

Then havmg cast his huntingwits aboutIn quest of rhymes, he thus at last broke out,

P oh! letmy Serjeant when his dose is taken,Barros s srams Home !with moisten’

d pipe rehearse,To deeds of death

’twill sooner much awaken,

Than cart loads ful l of such poor Ode and Verse.

Ifthese two bards wil l by a tuneful labour,Show W i thout sham, their love to kil ling life,Let Akenside go thump upon a tabor,

AndWhitehead grasp th’exaeuating fife.

A HINT TO A YOUNG P ERSON,

For his better Improvement,

B Y READING OR CONVERSATION .

IN reading authors, when you find

Bright passages that strike your mind,

And which, perhaps, youmay have reason

To think on at another season,

Be not contented with the sight,But take them down in B lack andW hite ;Such a respect is wisely shewnAs makes another

’s sense one

’s own .

W hen you’re asleep upon your bed

"

A thought may come into your head,W hichmay be useful, if

’tis taken

Due notice ofwhen youare waken .

Ofmidnight thoughts to take no heed

Betrays a sleepy soul indeed ;It is but dreami ng in the dayTo throw our n ightly hours away.

These e ight lines are an epitome of two excellent papers (No . 586,

d 593 ) which werewritten by the author and inserted in the Spectator.

60

In conversationwhen you meet

W ithpersons cheerful anddiscreet,That speak or quote, in prose or rhyme,Facetious things, or things sublime,Observewhat passes, and anon

W hen you get home, think thereupon ;W rite what occurs, forget it not,A good thing sav

’d is so much got.

Let no remarkable eventP ass witha gapingwonderment,A fool’s device, Lord, who would thinkRather recordwith P en and inkW hate

’er deserves attention now;

Forwhen ’tis gone youknownot how,

Too late you’ ll find that, to your cost,

So much ofhuman life is lost.

W ere it not for thewritten letter,P ray what were livingmen the betterFor allthe labours of the dead?For allthat Socrates e

’er said

The morals brought from Heav’n to men

He would have carry‘

d backagain ;’Tis owing to his Short

-hand youth

That Socrates does now speak truth.

TO LADY B W

ON HER P RESENTING THE AUTHOR W ITH THE MOIETY OF A

LOTTER1" TICKET.

THIS Ticket is to be divided; —well,To Lady Betty let these presents tellHowmuch I value, chances allapart,This gentle token of her friendly heart.W ithout regard to prizes or to blanks,My obligation is immediate thanks ;Andhere they come, as hearty spdas freeAs this unlook’d-for favourcame to me.

61

Five thousand P ounds, perhaps-a handsome

Aye, butm Specie five may never come.

That as you please, Dame Fortune !In mymindI have already taken it in kind,Am quite contentedwith my present lot,W hether you

’re pleas

’d to second it or not ;Chance is but Chance, however great or smal l ;The spirit of a loving gift is all.

Three Tickets olfer’

d tomake choice ofone,And write the memorandum thereupon,Spread in successive order as they lie,May allbe prizes for her sake !

”thought I.

That uponwhich my fancy chose to fix,W as, letme see, Four hundred fift - six

Four, five, and six — theyare, if can read,Numbers that regularly should succeed.

Thoubackward Fortune, that, in days ofyore,Hast read from six to five, from five to four,Once for the Lady

’s sake reverse thy spight,

And trace a luckier circle to the right!

If thou art angry that I should despiseThy gifts, which never dazzled muchmy eyes,Now speak me fair, nor let th

’occasion slip

Of such an honourable partnership.

Stand still amoment on thy bridge’s pier,

W hile the conditions of success we hear ;Say what the hard shall offer at thy shrine,Any thing less than worship, —and

’tis thine.

Thou’rt not, as they describe thee, quite gone blind,

Our names thou canst see here togetherjoin’d;

I’d rather theyTen Thousand P ounds should own,Than court thee for ten M illion P ounds alone.

For poets, seldom conversant in P ounds,Millions andThousands, Sir, are pompous sounds,

Yes ; but I’m only viewing the event

As corresponding to a kind intent.

Should it turn out its Thousands, more or less,I should be somewhat puzzled, I profess ;I mustupon a case so new, so nice,Fly to mybenefactress for advice.

62

W hat shall I do with such a monstrous prizeBut we’ll postpone the question til l it rise ;Let its to-morrow manage that.

— To-dayAccept the thankswhich I am bound to pay ;I’m r1ch, ifyou permit me still to shareYour wish ofwelfare, and your gen

’rous care

The greatest bliss, if I have any skill ,Ofhuman life is— mutual good-will .

This without question has your handconfess’d

This, without flatt’

ry, warms yourwilling breast.So much good nature shewn w1th so much ease !

Bestowyour sums, Dame Fortune, yvhere youplease,That kind ofsatisfaction wh1ch I feel ,Comes notwithin the compass of yourwheel ;No P r1ze can he1ghten the unpurchas

’d grace,

NorB lanks the grateful sentiments efi'

ace .

TH E C E N T'

A UR F A B UL O U S.

The delicate poignancy of wit, with which this allegorical piece is

enlivened, will be evident to the reader,who is acquain ted with the

writings of the celebrated author of the D ivine Legation . Any ex

tracts, therefore, to 1llustrate the epithets and allusions,which refer tothem in the following verses, would only serve to swellthe notes intoa tedious prolix ity. One quotation , in which our author is stigma

tized as a Behmen ist, is annexed, for the purpose of justifying a

charge, whicht m ight be suspected exaggei ation by those who arestrangers to the learned writer

’s manner of treating his opponents.

Z EUX IS of olda female Centaur drewTo shew his art, and then expos

’d to view;The human halfwith so exacta care

W asjoin’d to l imbs of a Thessalian mare,

That seeing from a difi"

rent point the piece,Some pra1s

’d theMaid, andsome the Mare, ofG reece .

L ike to this Centaur, by his own relation,Is Doctor W arburton

’sDivine Legation ;

W hich superficial writers on each hand,Christians andDeists,— did not understand,Because they both observ

’d from partial views

Th’ incorporatedChurch and State ofJ ews.

63

Th’ingenious artist took the pains to draw,

Fulla -zd entlre, the compound of the law,

The two societ1es,—the civilkind

And the rd zgi ous,—perfectly combin

’

d,W ith G od Almlghty as a temp

’rai prince

To govern both, as allhis proofs evmce,

Without the doctrine of a future state.

Here with Opponents lies the main debate.

They cannot reconc1le to serious thought.G od

’s Church and State, w1th LIFE To COME untaught

W ith Law or G o spel cannot make to suit

V irgin of $1011 sinklng down to Brute

Z euxis the new, they argue, takes a pride

In shapes so incompatible allied ;And talks away as ifhe had pourtray

’d

A real creature ,’

m ix’d ofMare and Maid.

Allwho deny th’ex istence of the pad ;

He centaurizes into Fool and mad.

*

Ifone objected to a Maiden hoof,fl

’hy.

’tis an An imal.

” —was all his proof;If to an animal wub human head,0!

’

tis a beauteous woman”

- Z euxis said.

W hat!Annualand W oman both at once?”

Yes, that’s essentialto the whole, yedance .

HIS primary and seconda ry sense,

L ike Mare and Maid, support his fond pretence.

From joining spot he sklps to each extreme ,

Or strides to both, and guards the motley scheme

Solving ten t /z like C'

cnlauriformal ease

Law,P rophets , G osp

el, quoted as you

fl

please.

Thus both went on long labour’d volumes through

N ow what must ia1r, impartial readers do?

Who has not signahzed himself against the D ir ine Legation? B igots,‘Iutchinsmfians. Methom sts, Answerers, Free- thinkers

,and Fanatics, have,

it their turns, been w?up in arms again st it . The scen e was opened by aidse Z ealot, and at present seems likely to be closed by a Behmenist -A natu'l and easy progressfi om FOLLY

'

ro M a n s r ss.

Dedication to the first vol. of the second part of theD ivine Legation .

64

Must they not grieve, ifeither ofthem treat

On Law, or G race, wi th rudeness or with heat?Al lowing either Z euxis wondrous skil l,They say, The Centaur is a fable still .

Thoughts on the Constitution of Human Nature,

As represented in the Systems ofModern P hilosophers.

STRONG passions draw, like horses that are strong,The body coach offlesh and blood along ;W hile subtle Reason, with each rein in hand,Sits on the box, and has them at command;Rais

’

d up aloft to see and to be seen,

J udges the track, and guides the gay machine.

But was itmade for nothing else, besideP assions to draw and Reason to be guide?

W as so much art employ’d to drag and drive

Nothing within the vehicle alive?No seated Mind that claims the moving pew,

Master ofP assions and of Reason too?

The grand contrivance why so well equipW ith strength of P assions, rul

’d by Reason’s whip?

Vainly profuse had apparatus been,Did not a reigning Spirit restwithin ;W hich P assions carry, and sound Reason means

To render present at pre- order

’d scenes.

They who are loud in human Reason’s praise,

W ho celebrate the Drivers of our days,Seem to suppose by their continual bawlThat P assions, Reason, and Machine, are all

To them the windows are drawn up ; and clearNothing that does not outwardly appear.

Matter and Motion, and superior Man

Byhead and shoulders, form their reas’ning plan ;

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66

W ith a l ittle more fact, by what sort ofa right

Her P atron, her Saint, is a Cappadox Knight.

I knowwhat our songs and our stories advance,That St. G eorge 18 for England, St. Denys for France;But the French, tho

’uncertain what Denys it was,

All own be converted and taught’em . their man ;

And most other nations, I fancy, remount.

To some Saint whom they chose upon such n ewBut l

'

never could learn, that for any like notion

The English made chorce ofa Knight’

Cappadocian.

Their conversion,- a turn worth rememb’ring, I

’d hope

To G regory was owing, a Saint, and a P ope,W ho was known by the title of rmsr and the G REAT

He sent to relieve them from P agan deceitSt. Austin the Monk -and both SENDER and SENT

Had their days in old Fastt, which mark’d th

’event.

Now, my Lord, Iwould ask of the learn’d and laborious,

Has not G ecr-

gi- na been a mistake for G regorius?

”

In names so l ike letter’d'

itwould be no wonderIfhasty transcribers had made such a blunder ;And mistake m the names by a Sllp ofthei r pen

May, perhaps, have occasion’d mistake in the men .

That this has been made, to omit all the rest,

Let a champion ofyours, your own Selden, attest ;See on titles ofhonour his book in that quarterW here he treats ofSt. G eorge and the Knights ofthe garter

There he quotes from Froissart how at first, on the planOfa Lady

’s blue garter, blue Order began,

In One Thousand, Three hundred, and forty, and FormBut the name of the Saint in Froissart is G regors

So the chronicle-writer or printed, or wro teFor G eorge, without doubt,

”—says the marginal note.

Be it there a mistake —but, my Lord, I’m afraid

That, the same, vice versd, was anciently made.

For tho’ much has been said by the great AntiquarianOfan Orthodox G eorge,

— Cappadocian,— and Arian ;

How the soldier first came to be P atron of old

1 have not,”(says he,) light enough to behold.

67

He thinks, since of proofs he is sorely in want,A soldier- like nation would choose him for Saint ;For in allhis old writings no fragment occurr

’d

That saluted him P atron till Edward the third.

That reign he had guess’

d to be the first time,But for old Saxon prose and for old English Rhyme,W hich mention a G eorge, a great Martyr and Saint,Tho

’they say not a word of the thing that we want.

They tell of his tortures, his death, and his pray’r,

W ithout the least hint of the question’

d affair,

Not being the P atron- with submission to Selden,

I conjecture, that light he was never beheld in .

The name in French, Latin, and Saxon,’tis hinted,

Some three or four times is mis-writ or mis-

printed;He renders it G eorge

— but allowing the hint,And the justice of change both in writing and print,

Some G eorge by like error, which adds to the doubt,Has turn’

d our Converter, St. G regory, out;

He, or Austin the monk, bids the fairest by far

To be P atron ofEngland til l G arter and Star.

Q

In the old Saxon custom of crowning our Kings,As Selden has told us, amongst other things

They nam’d in the pray

’rs which his pages transplant,

The VIRG IN, sr.,P ETER, and one other saint,

W hose connection with England is also express’d,

And yields in tnis case such a probable test,That, a P atron suppos

’d, we may fairly agree

Such a Saint is the person, whoever he be .

Nowwith MARY and P ETER,whenMonarchs were crown’d

There is only a‘sm crus G aseomus found ;

And his title h uewaum AP OSTOLOS too,

W ithwhich a ST. G EORG E can have nothing to do.

W hile Scotland, France, Ireland, and Spam put in claimsTo s'

r. ANDREW . sr. nsurs, sr. P ATRICK, sr . J AMES,BothApostle and P atron,— an Apostle, her own,W hy should England reject for a Saint so unknown?

‘ Saint G regory, the Apostle ofthe English.

68

This my Lord, is the matter- the plain, simple rhyme!

Lay no fault, you perceive, upon P rotestant times.I impute the mistake, if it should be one, so le lyTo the P ontill

'

s succeeding who christen’d wars hol

To Monarchs, who, madd’ning around their round

ytables.

P reterr’d to conversion their fighting and fables ;W hen Soldiers were many. good Christians but few,

Sr. s cones was advanc’d to sr . G am oav’s due .

One may be mistaken, I therefore would begThat a W il l is, a Stukeley

'

, an Ames, or a P egge,

In short, that your Lordship and allthe fam’d set,

W ho are under your auspices happily met,In perfect good

-humour, Wt l) you can inspire

As Iknowby experience, would please to inquire,To search this one question , and settle I hope,W as old England

’s old P atron a amour, or a P OP E?

”

SP ECIOUS AND SUP ERFICIAL W RITERS.

HOW rare the case tho’ common the pretence,To write on subjects from a real sense !’Tis many a ce lebrated author’s fate

,

To print effusions just as P arrots prate ;He moulds a matter, that he oncewas taught,In various shapes, and thinks that it is Thought.W ords at command he marshals in arrayAnd proves

— whatever he is pleas’d to say;

W hile learning like a torrent pours along,And sweeps away the subject, right or wrong.

One follows for a while a rol ling theme,Toss

’d in the middle of the rapid stream ;

Till, out of sight, with like impetuous forceTorn from its roots, another takes the course,

W hile froth and bubble glaze the flowing mud,And the man thinks allclear and understood ;

69

A shi ning surface and a transient viewMake the slight-witted reader think so too.

It entertains him, and the book is bought,Read, andadmir

’d without expense of thought ;

N o tax impos’d upon his wits,

—his cash

P aidwithout scruple,— he enjoys the trash.

P ASSIVE P ARTICIP LE’S P ETITION

TO THE

P RINTER OF THE G ENTLEMAN’S MAG AZ INE .

URBAN, or Sylvan, or whatever name

De lights thee best, thou foremost in the fameOfMagaziningchiefs!whose rival pageW ith monthly medley courts the curious age,Hear a poor P assive P articiple

’s case,

And, if thou canst, restore me to my place.

Till just of late good Engl ish has thought fitTo call me written , or to call me writ ;But what is writ orwritten by the vote

Ofwriters now, hereafter must he wrote ;And what is spoken too, hereafter spoke

And measures, never to be broken , broke.

I never could be driven ; but, in spite

Of G rammar, they have drove me from my right.N one could have risen to become my foes ;Butwhat a world of enemies have roseW ho have not gone, but they have went about,And, torn as I have been, have tore me out.

P assive I am and would be ; and imploreThat such abuse may be henceforthforbore,If notforborn for by each spel ling bookIf not mistaken, they are allmistook;

70

And in plain Engl ish it had been as wel lIfwhat hasfalt

’n upon me, had notfell.

Since this attack upon me has began,W ho knows what length in language may be ran?

For ifIt once he grew into a law,

You’ l l see suchwork as never has been saw;

P art ofour speech, and sense, perhaps, beside ,Shakes when I

’

m shook, and dies when I am died.

Then let the P reter and Imperfect Tense

Ofmy own words to me remit the sense ;

Or, s ince we two are oft enough agreed,Let allthe learned take some better heed,And leave the vulgar to confound the due

Of P reter tense, and P articiple too .

THE BEAU AND THE BEDLAMITE .

A patient in Bedlam that did pretty wel l,W as permitted sometimes to go out ofhis cell .One day when they gave him that freedom, he spied

A beauislr young sparkwith a sword by his side,W ith a huge silver hi lt, and a scabbard ofstee l,That swhng at due length from his hip to his heel .

W hen he saw him advance on the gallery ground,The Bedlamite ran, and survey

’d him all round ;W hile a waiter suppress

’d the young Captain

’s alarm

VVith You need not to fear, Sir, he’lldoyou no harm.

At the last he broke out— Aye, a veryfine show!May I ask ‘

him one question? W hat’s that?’ said the Beau.

P rat/a what is that long, dangling, cumbersome th ing,IVhich you see m to be lied to with riband and strin

W hy, that is my sword - Andwhat is it to do;Kill my enemies, master, by running them thro.

’

Kill your enemies! Killafool’s head of your own!

They’ll die of themselves, if you let them alone.

I"

2

69

A shining surface and a transient viewMake the slight-witted reader think so too.

It entertains him, and the book is bought,Read, and admir’d without expense of thought ;No tax impos

’d upon his wits,

—his cash

P aidwithout scruple, -he enjoys the trash.

P ASSIVE P ARTICIP LE’S P ETITION

TO THE

P RINTER OF THE G ENTLEMAN’S MAG AZ INE .

URBAN , or Sylvan, or whatever name

Delights thee best, thou foremost in the fameOfMagazining chiefs!whose rivalpage

W ith monthly medley courts the curious age,Hear a poor P assive P articiple

’s case,

And, if thou canst, restore me to my place.

Til l just of late good English has thought fitTo callme written , or to call me writBut what is writ orwritten by the vote

Ofwriters now,hereaftermust he wrote

And what is spoken too, hereafter spoke

And measures, never to be broken , broke.

I never could be driven ; but, in spite

Of G rammar, they have drove me from my right.None could have risen to become my foes ;Butwhat a world of enemies have rose!

W ho have not gone, but they have went about,And, torn as I have been, have tore me out.

P assive I am and would be ; and imploreThat such abuse may be henceforthforbore,If notforborn for by each spelling bookIf not mistaken, they are allmistook;

AN ANSWER

TO THE FOREG OING REBUS.

P AUCIS, friend Aphanus, abhinc

W ith no smalhpleasure I receiv’d aRebus.

‘

Twas old acquaintance Benjamin’s own hand

That gave the pleasure, you must understandFor, all the blesings show

’r’d on mortal men,

Rebus in omnibus,1‘ I wish to Ben.

At his request I sought for ancient city,That lay conceal

’d in cabalistic dittySo didwe all: for, when his letter came,Some friendswere c

‘

hair’d around the focal flame

Not one’mongst all, the Rebus out could make ;

Diaphanns himselfwas quite opaque.

Tho’ pleae’

dwith pleasing when he can do so,

His ingenuity he loves to shew;He is as free to own when it does not,If such a thing fal ls out to be his lot,He had none here, nor any succedaneum,

W hich could discover. this same usacuu nauu.

Altho’ it seem’d to ask, when it appear’d,

No greatHerculean labour to be clear’d;

So many difi’reut wits at work, no doubt

The city’s name would quickly be found out!

But notwithstanding tvariorum lecture,The name lay snug without the least detecture.

You stand entitled hereupon to laughAt haplem genius in your friendDiaph.

But, in excuse forwhat hemust confess,Nor men, nor even Ladies, here could guess ;No more of ancient city than Old Sarum

To Variorum seen, or§Variarum.

A fewdays ago. t In allthings. The reading ofvarious men.

OfvariousLadies.

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74

0

So Wife’

s Ambition made a parted school ;Some said, to please her husband,

”some, to rule ;

On this moot point, too, Rebus would create,As you may guess, a pretty smart debate,Till one prOpos

’d to end it thus with ease,

The onlyway to rule him is TO P LEASE.

Hold! I forgot —One said, a P arson’

s dues

W as the same thingwith shining badge of J ews,And itwas Tithe, of corn, or pig. or goose ;W hat earth, or animals of earth produce,From calf and lamb to turnip and potatoe,M ight be the word,

— which he had nought to say to.

For an excuse is made, upon the whole,The two great number ofthe words, that pol lFor correspondency to ev

’

ry line,And make the meant one tedious to divine ;Butwe suspect that other pornts ambiguous,And eke unfair, contribute to fatigue us.

For, first, with due submission to our betters,W hat ancient city could have eighteen letters?Or more? for, in the latter lines, the clue

May have one correspondent word or two.

C lue should have said, ifonly one occurr’d,

Not correspondent words to each, but word.

From some suspicions of a bite, we guessThe number of the letters to be less ;And from expression ofa certain cast,

Somejoke unequal to the pains at last.Could you have said that allwas right and clever,Ours would have been more fortunate endeavour.

There should be always in a‘J EU DE mors

C lear-

pointed turn, short, fair, and a propos ;W it without straining ; neatness without starch,Hinted tho’

hidden ; decent, tho" ’tis arch;

No vile idea should disgrace a Rebus,”

Slc urcunr MUSE , SIC EDlC lT encEnus.

‘l'

‘ A sport with words. t So say the Muses, so commands Apollo (thtutelary G od of poetry and eloquence.)

75

This, Aphanus, tho’short ofsatisfaction,

Is what account occurs of the transaction,Impertinent enough

—but you’ llexcuse

W hat your own P ostscript halfenjoin’d the Muse

She, when she took the sudden task upon her,Did it, believe me, to oblige your honour.

THOUG HTS

ON RHYME AND BLANK VERSE.

WHAT a deal ofimpertinent stuffat this timeC omes out about verses in Blank and in Rhyme.

To determine their merits by critical P rose,And treat the two parties as If they were foes!

The allotting so gravely, for ~ettling theirhank,O fallbondage toRhyme and allfreedom lbBlank,Has provok

’d a few Rhymes to step forth and repress

The pedantical whim, nowincreas’d to excess ;

Not to hinder the dupes ofthis fanciful witFrom retailing its maxims whene

’er they think fit

But to caution young Bards, if in danger towasteAny genius for verse

‘

on so partial a taste,That (while to blankverse is allow

'

d the pretence

W hich to freedom it claims) they, supportedby sense,Forwordswithout any, may never neglectOfRhyme freelyflowing the pleasing effect.

Here are two special terms which the Sophistersmingle,To be sauce for the rest,

— to wit, Fetters and J ingle ;A nd because aweakwriter may chance to expose

V ery ill- chosenwords to such phrasesas those,

The unthinking reflectors sit down to their role,Andpronounce against Rhyme th

’undistinguishing vote.

Sole original this, in the petulant school,Ofits idle objections to METRE and RULE.

76

For to what other fetters are verses confin’

d

W hether made up of blank or ofmetricalkind?

It a man has not taste for poetical lines,Can

’t be let themalone, saying what he designs

Upon some other points in his unfetter’d way,

And contemn, ifhe will, all numerical lay?But the fashion, forsooth, must affect the sublime,The grand, the pathetic, and rail against Rhyme .

Blank verse is the thingz— tho,

’ whoever tries both, ,

W ill find of its fetters a plentiful growth,Many chains to be needful to measure his ground,And keep the sublime within requisite bound.

If a laudable product in Rhyme should, perhaps,Extort some applause from these exquisite Chaps,They express it quite shily, for fear of a fetter,Had the Rhyme been neglected the work had been better.

’Tis thus they begin with their j ingle (or rattleAs some of them call it) the delicate battleB the nature ofRhyme,

”they cry,

“to be sure

The sense must be cramped and render’d obscure.

As ifBlank by its grandeur and magnify’d pause,

W asSecure in its freedom from any such flaws ;Tho’ so apt in ,bad hands to give readers offence,By the rattling ofsound and the darkness ofsense.

All the arguments form’d against metrical song,

And twisted and twin’d as they prose it along,P resuppose the poor maker to be but a dunce

For, ifthat be not true, they allvanish at once.

If it be,what advantage has blank in the case

From counting badverses by unit or brace?Nothing else can result from the critical routBut, -

“A B lockhead’s a Blockhead,withRhymeorwithout.

It came, as they tell us, from ignorant Moors,

And by growth of fine taste wil l be turu’d out ofdoors

Two insipid conceits at a venture intwin’d

And void ofallproofboth before and behind.

Too old its reception to tell of its age ;Its downfall, if taste could but fairlypresage,

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78

SAINT P HILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.

But seek ye first the kingdom of G od and his righteousness and all that

things shall be added untoyou. Mat. vi. 3 3 .

SAINT P hil ipNeri, as old readings say,

Met a young stranger in Rome’s streets one day ;

And being ever courteously inclin’d

To ive young folks a sober turn ofmind,

He fell into discoursewithhim — aud thus

The dialogue they heldcomes down to us,Tellme what bringsyou, gentle youth, to Rome?

’

To make myselfa scholar, S ir, I come .

Andwhen you are one, what do you intend?’

To be a P riest, I hope, S ir, in the end.

Suppose it so,—what have you next in view?’

That Imay get to be a Canon too.

W ell ;— and how then?’— Why, then, for aught I

I may be made a Bishop . Be it eh;W hat then Why, Cardinal

’s a high degree ;

Andyet mylot it possibly may be.

Suppose it was ;— what then?

' —W'

hy, who can sayBut I

’ve a chance ofbeing P ope one day?

W ell ; having worn the mitre, the red hat,And triple crown,— what follows after that?’

Nay, there is nothingfurther, to be sure,

Upon this earth that wi shing can procure.

When I’ve enj oy’d a dign ity so high

As long as G od shrillplease, then I MUSTDIE .

W hat!must you die, fond youth?~ and at the bestBut wish, andhope, and may be all the rest?

Take my advice — whatever may betide,For thatwhichmust be first ofallprovide,Then think of that which may be

— and indeed,W hen well prepar

’dwho knowswhat may succeed?You yet may be, as youare pleas

’d to hope,

P riest, Canon, Bishop, Cardinal, and P ope .

’

79

ADVICE

TO THE REV . MESSRS. AND H

RESP ECTING THEIR P REACHING'

Brethren, this comes to let you knowThat I would have yhu to preach slow;To give the words ofa discourseTheir proper time, and life, and force ;To urge what you think tit to sayIn a sedate, patheticway,G rave anddelib

’rate,

—as’tis fit

To comment upon Holy W rit.

Many a good sermon gives distaste,By being spoke in too much haste ;W hich, had it been pronounc

’d with leisure,W ould have been listen’d to with pleasure;And thus the preacher often gains

His labour only for his pains ;As, ifyou doubt lt,may appear

From evfrySunday in the year.

For how, indeed, can one expect

The best discourse should take etfect,Unless the maker thinks it worthSome care and pains to set it forth?

W hat!does he think the pains he took

To write it fairly in a book,W ill do the bus’ness?— Not a bit

It must be spoke as well as writ.

W hat is a sermon, good or bad,Ifa man reads it like a lad?

To hear some people when they preachHowthey run o

’er allparts of speech,

And neither raise a word nor sink,Our learned bishops, one would think,

80

Had taken school boys from the rod

To make ambassadors for G od.

80 perfect is the Christian scheme,He that from thence shal l take his theme,And time to have it understood,His sermon cannot but be good.

If he’l l not cease from preaching staj

'

,

No time, indeed, is short enough ;E

’en let him read it l ike a letter,

The sooner it is done the better.

But for aman that has a head,

(L ike yours or mine, I’d almost said)

That can upon occasion raise

A just remark, a proper phrase,For such a one to run along,Tumbling his accents o

’er his tongue,

Shews only that a man at once

May be a scholar and a dunce .

In point of sermons,’tis confesa’d,

Our English C lergymake the best.But this appears, we must confess,Not from the pulpit, but the press.They manage, with disjointed skill,The matter well, the manner ill;And, what seems paradox at first

They make the best and preach the worst.

W ould they but speak aswell aswrite,Both excellences would unite ;The outward action being taught

To shew the strength of inward thought.Now, to do this our short-hand schoolLays down this plain and gen

’ralrule

,

ake time enough,”— allother graces

W ill soon fillup their properplaces.

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82

No. need, no reason prompted then

The pulpit to consult the pen .

However well prepar’d before

By pund’

rtng or bywriting o’er

W hat he should say. still itwas sawBy him that preach

’d itwas not READ.

Could ancient memory, then , better

Forbear from poring o’er the letter

Than yours? Brethren, if you’ ll but try,

That fact I’llventure to deny.

Moderns of late give proofs enow,

Too many—as it seems to you,

That matters of religious kindStor

’d up W ithin the thoughtful mind

W ith any care and caution stor’d

Sufficient utterance afiord

To tellan audience what they think,W ithout the help ofpen and ink.

How apt to think, too, is the throngA preacher short, a reader long !The people claim to be the book

That should attract a pastor’s look.

If you lament a pareless age,Averse to hear the pulpit page,Speak from within not

' from without,And heart to heart will turn about.

Trv this, - and ifyou can’t succeed,r

’Twil l then be right for you to read ;A ltho’

the heart, if that’s your choice,

Must stil l accompany the voice.

Should you at length succeed, and take

The hint. you must not merely makeP reaching Ex TEM P ORE" the view,

But Ex E TERNITATE too'

.

‘ Extempore, when used as an adopted English word, signifiespremeditation . But a double mean ing being here in tended

,

m otion with ex ceternitate, it conveys this advice, P reach r

a viewtopresent things alone, but asfor eternity.

83

VERSES

On Clergymen preaching politics,

ADDRESSED TO RALP H LEYCESTER ESQ.

INDEED, Sir P eter, I could wish, I own,That parsons would let politics alone ;P lead, if they will, the customary pleaFor such like talkwhen o

’er a dish of tea ;

But when they tease us with it from the pulpit,I own, Sir P eter, that I cannot gulp it.

If on their rules a J ustice should intrencb,By preaching us a sermon from the bench,

W ould you not think, your brother magistrate

W as touch’d a little in his hinder pate?

N ow, which is worse, Sir P eter, on the totalThe LAY vagary or the SACERDOTAL?

In ancient times when preachers preach’d indeed

Their sermons, ere the learned learnt to read,Another Spirit and another life

Shut the Church doors against all party strife ;S ince then how oft is heard from sacred rostrums

The lifeless din ofW hig and Tory nostrums !

’Tis wrong, Sir P eter, I insist upon’t

‘

,

To common sense a man ifest affront.

The parson leaves the Christian in the lurch,W hene

’er he brings his politics to Church.

If he his cant, on either side, calls preachingThe man

’

swrong- headed, and his brains want bleaching.

Recal l the time from Conquering W illiam’s reign,

And guess the fruits of such a preaching vein

How oft its nonsense must have veer’d about,

J ust as the politics were in or out!

84

The pulpit govern’d by no G ospel data,

But new success still mending old errata:

W ere I a king,— G od bless me — I should hate"

My chaplains meddling with affairs ofstate ;Nor would my subjects, I should think, he fondW hene’er their priests the Bible went beyond.

Howwell, methinks, we both should live together,Ifthese good folkswould keep within their tether!

VISION OF MOSES.

MOSES, to whom by a pecul iar graceG od spake

— the Hebrew phrase is, face to face,”

Call’d by a heav

’nly voice, the Rabbins say,

Ascended to a mountain’s top one day,

W here, in some points perplex’d, his mindwas eas’d,

And doubts concerning providence appeas’d.

During the Colloquy D ivine, say they,The prophet was commanded to surveyAndmarkwhat happen

’d on the plain below

There he pereeiv’d a fine, clear spring to flow

J ust at the mountain’s foot, to which, anon,

A soldier in his course came riding on ;

W ho taking notice ofthe fountain, stopp’d,

A lighted, -drank, —and in remounting dropp’d

A purse ofgold; but, as the precious loadFell unsuspected, he pursued his road.

Scarce had he gone when a young lad came byAnd, as the purse layjust before his eye,He took it up, and,

~ finding its content,Secur’d the treasure, andaway hewent.Soon after him a poor, infirm old man,W ith age and travel weary quite, andwan,Came to the spring to quench his thirst — he drank,And then sat down to rest him on the bank.

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86

Down from the lion with his tearingjaws,To the poor cat that scratches with her pawsAllshew’

d their force, when put upon the proofW herein it lay,

- teeth, talons, horn, or hoof.

P leae’dwith , the P orciipine, whose native art

Is said to distance danger by his dart,To rout his foes before they come too near,

From ev’ry hurt of close encounter clear ;

This, had not one thing bated of its price,Had been our worthy ancestor

’s device.

A foe to none, but ev’ry body

’s friend,

And loath, altho’

offended, to offend,He sought to find an instance, if it couldBy any creature

’s art be understood,

That might betoken safety when attack’d,

Yet where all hurt should be a foe’s own act.

At last the Hedge-hog came into his thought,

And gave the perteet emblem that he sought.

This little creature, all offence aside,Rolls up itself in its own prickly hideW hen danger comes ; and they that will abuse,Do it themselves, when their own hurt ensues.

Methinks, I hear the venerable sage,Children !Descendants all thro

’ev

’ry age !

Learn from the prudent Urchin in your Arms,How to secure yourselves from worldly harms.

G ive no offence, - to you if others will,Firmly wrapp

’

d up within yourselves, be stil l.

This animal is giv’n for outward sign

Of inward. true Sincerity D ivine.

Sharp on your minds let pointed virtues grow,

That. without in itiring. resist a foe

Surround with these an honest, harmless heart,And He that dwells in it will take your part.

W hatever ills your Christian peace molest,Turn to the source ofgrace within your,breast

There lies your safety— Oh! that allmy kin

May ever seek it, —where’tis found,— within !

No il ls can ever long that soul annoyW hich makes its G od the centre of its j oy.

VERSES

Intended to have been spoken

i t the commencement of the vacation of the Free G rammarSchool in

Manchester, in the year 1748 .

A t this time Lauder’s charge of plagiaris m against Milton engaged the

attention ofthe public, and was eagerly embraced and invidiously retailedby some names eminent in literature. Among themost malerc tent of these

,

was D r . J ohnson,our great lexicographer. He gloried in Lauder

’

s sup

p osed discovery, with all the phlegmatic rancour which he entertained

against M iltonfor his attachment to Republicanism and for his excellence

as an epic poet. Whether this conduct proceededfrom a dMP OS‘ltLOI' natu

rally too prone to credulity, orfrom lowmaligm ty m ixed w'

th j ealousy,remains yet undetermined . The truly charitable wi ll always incline to the

former opinion . C ertain it is, however, that when the detecte r of plagiaJ im was himselffound guiltyof the grossest fabrications, J ohnson cursed

from his unmanlyp ersecution of thehonoured manes of M ilton : and to hishonour let it be recorded, that he could never afterwards bear even the ca

sualmention of Lauder’s name

,without a blush of sorrow or of shame

at having been connectedwith him in an attempt topluckwell- earned laurelsfrom the browofgenius.

Afine and diversified vind ication ofthegreatest ofour British Bards ispresented to us in thesepurposely puerile efi

'

usi ons . All of them set out

with allowing thefact, of M ilton having taken the matters most suitablet o his purposesfrom every quarterwhere they could be discovered.

THE MASTER’S SP EECH.

Our worthy Founder, G entlemen, this dayAppoints, our youth an hour

’s poetic play,

And that I yearly at this time should choose

A S ingle subj ect tor thei r varied muse,That youmay see how fancy will createA diff

”rent image in each youngster

’s pate .

Now, since our M ilton, a renowned name,Has been attack

’d for stealing into fame,

I told them, Lads, nowbe upon your guard ;Exert yourselves, and save your famous bard.

He’

s call’d a plagiary — ’tis yours to shew

The vain reproach, to silence Milton’s foe.

88

The oint at which ye now must take your aim,

RememIier as ye rhyme, is il ln‘

rox’s P AI R ;

Fame as a P oet only, as attack’

d

For plund’

ring verses — ne’er contest the fact ;

Defend your hard, tho’

granted ; and confine

To three times six, at most, your eager line .

”

Then lend a fav’ring ear while they rehearse

Short, and almost extemporary verse,

A thought work’d up that came into the mind,

W ith rhymes the first and fittest they could findSuch was their task — the boys have done their bed

Take what you like, Sirs, and excuse the rest.

THE FIRST BOY.

M ilton pursued in numbers more sublime,Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme .

’Tis said,

“ the hard did but pretend to soar

For, such and such attempted them before .

An age has now elaps’d since M ilton writ

The rest are sunk i nto ohlivion’

s pit ;A critic dwing to their wrecks, perhaps,fi ne now and then brought up some loosen

’d scraps.

W e’ l l not dispute the value of them now,

But say one thing which critics must allow,

W hich all the nations round us W i ll confess ,MILTON AID NE attempted W iru success.

”

THE S BOY .

W hen Milton’s ghost i sium came

To mix with claimants for poetic fame,Some rose the celebrated hard to meet,W elcom

’d, and laid their laurels at his feet.

Immortal Shades, said he, if aught be dueTo my attempts,

’tis owing all to you;

Then took the laurels fresh’ning from his hand,And crown’

d the temples of the sacred band.

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THE FIFTH BOY .

W hen Oxford saw in her Radclivian dome

G reek skil l and Roman rivall’d here at home,

V Vond

’ring she stood, til l one judicious spark

Address’d the crowd, and made this sage remark,

The most unlicens’d plagiary,— this G ibbs!

Nothing in all his pile but what he cribs.

The ground he builds upon is not his own ;I know the quarry whence he had his stone,The forest too where all his timber grow

’d,The forge in which his fused metals flow

’d ;Slightly survey the edifice intire,’Tis alla borrow’

d work from base to spire .

Thus with our epic architecthe deals,W ho says that M ilton in his poem steals ;Steals, if he W i ll but without license?” No ;

P edlars in verse unmeaningly do so.

Him P haabus Iicens’d ; and the Muses nine

Help’d the rare thiefto raise up A DESlG N.

O O O N O

THE SIXTH BOY.

Lauder ! thy authors Dutch and G erman

There is no need to disinter, man !

To search the mould’ring anecdote

For source of all that M ilton wrote ;W e

’ll own, from these and many more

The bard enricli’d his aninle store

t bus himself could not escape

The tricks of this poetic ape ;For, to complete his daring vole,“rFrom his enliven

’d wheels he stole,P rometheus like, the solar rayThat animatedallhis clay.

A corruption ot the Frenchword col,which signifies the t

91

P rometheus like, then , chain him down ,P rey on his vitals of renown,W ith critic talons and W ith beakUpon his fame thy vengeance wreakIt grows again at ev

’ry hour,

Fast as the vulture can devour.

O N O "

THE SEVENTH BOY .

M iltonum vir (O facinus nefarium !)Exagitavit tanquam plagiarium .

M iramur, hanc qui protulisset thesin,Quid esse Momus crederet P oesin .

Num, quzeso, vult ut, hac obstetricante,Dicendum sit quod nemo dixit ante?

O admirandam hominis versuti

Calliditatem, quavolebat uti!

D ixisset ipse, nimium securus,

Quod nemo diest prmsens aut futurus,Dum fe lis ungues persequentur murem,

M iltonum, sci licet, fuisse furem.

Exulent ergo, (ejus ex efiatis)Quicunque nomen usurparint vatis ;Nullum vocemus, prorsus, ad examen

Eorum sensum, vim, aut modulamen ;Furantur omnes ; - habeamus verum

P oetam et c unicum Landerum

These Monkish rhymes may be thus translated,- O base villainy!A

m an has persecuted M ilton as a plagiary ! We wonder in what poetrywould be thought to consist bv M on ius, (the god of cavillers\ who musthave broached this Op i n ion . D o you suppose i t to be his wish

,when

poetry lends her aid, that a person should then utter what no one ever

said before?

0 the wondrous wisdom of a clever man,which he was desirous of

ractising ! He in too much security would have said that M ilton hasheen a thief an assertion which no one now or hereafter willmake, aslong the c laws of a cat shall wage waragainst amouseBan ished therefore

, according to his maxims, be every one who hasarrogated to himself the title of bard. In exam in ing them let us en tire

ly disregard their sense, force, or harmony. A llofthem are robbers‘tnahenceforth have one true poet, and let him be LAUDER .

92

A DIALOG UE ON CONTENTMENT.

J OHN AND P HEBE.

J ohn . WHAT ills, dear P hebe, would it not preventTo learn this one short lesson, BE CONTENT!”

No very hard prescription in effect

This same content — and yet thro’ its neglect,

W hat might evils do we human elves,”

As P rior calls us, bring upon ourselves !Evils that nature never meant us for,Vacuums which heartily she does abhor.

Ofall the ways ofjudging things amissNo instance shews our weakness more than this,That men on earth won

’

t set their hearts at rest,W hen G od in heaven does all things for the best.

What strange, absurd perverseness!

P hebe. Ho ld, good brother!

Don’t put yourself, I pray, in such a pother.

’Tis a fine thing to be content ;— why, true,

‘Tis just and right we know as well as you;And yet to be so, after all this rout,Has sometimes puzzled you, I make no doubt.

Folks in the vigour of their health and strength

May rail at discontent, in words at length,W ho yet when disappointed of their W ishes,W ill put you offwith surly humphs and pishes.Let’s be content and easy,

—gen

’ral stuff

Your happy people ai e content enough.

Ifyouwould reason to the purpose, shewHow they who are unhappy may be so ;How they who are in sickness, want, or pain,May get their health, estate, and ease again ;How they

J ohn . Nay, P hebe, don‘t go on so fast;

Yourjust rebuke now suits yourselfat last.Methinks you wanderwidely from the fact;”Tis not howyou, or I, or others act,

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94

’Tis just and right, is own’d by you and me

Now for my part, I rather choose to see

The easiness ofwhat is just and right,W hichmakes it more encouragi ng to sight,Than scare - crow hardships that almost declareContent an uncome-at-able affair,

And consequently tempt one to distrust

As dlfiICllilleS, what is right and just.Thus I object to hardship —if you please,Shew for what reason you obj ect to ease

P hebe. W hy, for this reason ,— tho’ it should be true

That what is just and right is easy too,Such case is nothi ng Of a talking kind;It is right will, which likes to be resign

’d,

And cherishes a grace whichwith regard

To the unpractis‘

d. may sometimes be hard.

You treat CONTENT as if it were aweed

Ofneither cost nor culture, when indeed,It is as fine a flow’

r as can be tound

W ithin the mind’s best cultivated ground;

W here like a seed, it must have light and airTo help it

s

growth. according to the ,care

That owners take, whose philosophic skillW illmuch depend upon the weather stil l ;G ood should not make them careless, nor should badD i scourage

J ohn . Right, provided it be had

I’ll not dispute, but own, what you have said

Has hit the naildirectly on the head.

Easy or hard. allpains W i thi n our pow’r

Are well bestow’d. on such a charming flow

’r.

95

TOM THE P ORTER

AS Tom the porter went up Ludgate Hill,A swingeing show’

r oblig’dhim to stand still ;

So in the right- hand passage thro

’the gate

He pitch’dhis burden down just by the grate,

From which there came in doleful sounds away,P ity

— the poor— and hungry

- debtors— pray.

To the same garrison from P aul’s Churchyard

A half-drown’d so ldier ran to mount the guard;

Now Tom, (it seems) the Ludgateer, and he

W ere formerly acquaintances all three ;And as the coast was clear by cloudy weather,They quickly fell into discourse toge

’

ther.

’Twas in December when t he Highland C lansHad got toDerbyshire from P reston P ans,Had struck allLondon with a wofulpanic ,

But mark the force of principles Britannic

The soldier told them fresh the city news,J ust piping hot from Stock

-

;jobbers and J ews,OfFrench fleets landing and ofDutch neutrality,Ofjealousies at Court amongst the quality,Of Swarston bridge that never was pull

’

d down,Ofall the rebels in full march to town ,And ofa hundred things beside that made

LordMay’r himse lf and aldermen afraid

P ainting withmany an oath the case i n view,

And ask’d the porter what he thought to do .

Do?”

says he gravely. what I did before ;W hat I have done these thirty years andmore ;Carry, as I am like to do , my pack,G lad to maintain my belly by my back;If that but hold, I care not, for my part,Come as come will,

”tshall never break my heart.

I do n’

t see folks that fight about their thrones,Mind either soldiers’ flesh or porters

’bones.

96

W hoe’er gets better when the battle’s fought,

Thy pay nor mine will be advanc’

d a groat.‘

But to the purpose ;— nowwe are met here,

I’llj oin with thee for one ful l mug of beer.

”

The soldier touch’d a little with surpriseTo see his friend

’

s indifference, repl ies,W hat you say, Tom, I own, is very goodBut— ova n sLiG iON and he d— mn’

d his bloodW hat will become of our religion?

”True,

”

Says the J ail- bird, and ofOUR FREEDOM too?

If the P retender (rapp’

d he out) comes on ,O thi Li s saTi ss and enorsnriss are gone!

”

And so the soldier and the pris’

ner join’d

To work up Tom into a better mind.

He staring dumb, with wonder struck and pity,Took up his load and trudg

’

d into the city.

A LANCASHIRE DIALOG UE,

OCCASIONED BY

A CLERG YMAN P REACHING WITHOUT NOTES.

Thegood sense and pleasantry of this and thefollowing dialogues will, uitbout a translati on , be unintellig ible to persons that are strangers to ti t

Laiwashire dialect. This cons ideration has been an inducement to thr

rendering of thesentences written in that idiom, as nearly asM ists

theproper vernacular language.

J AMES AND J OHN.

J AMES. W us yo at Church 0’Sundaymorning, J ohn?

J OHN . Ay, J ceams, I wus ; and would no’

but ha’

gone

For ne’er so mich.

— W hat, wur no yo tlieer then?

J AMES. Non ; and I ha’no

’miss

’d, I know no

’ wheh.

J ames. Were you at Church on Sund ay morn ing, J ohn?

J ohn . Ay, J ames, I was ; and would not but have gone

For ne’er so much.

— Were not you there then?

J ames. No, and I have not mire’d, I knownot when.

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98

But he wur conning sunimat to himselMon iiy a good thing, there, I ha

’

hard read oo’er,

But never knewwhat preeaching wus befoor.

J AMES. And prei ye , J ohn, baoc done ye know itw e.

J OHN . Lukko , —this mon has tou’

t it me sumhaoo.

J AMES. A ready scholar !J OHN . Scholar?” whoyf - a dance

May see, beloike, what’s shown him an at wunce .

J AMES. It ma’es me thi nk, yo

’re allivated soa,

O’one that

’s gloppen

’d

’at has seen a shoa.

J OHN . W ould yo had seen and hard, as weel as I,And if I shid sayfelt, I shid no” lie,W hat it wus moy good luck to hyear and see

Yo’d a bin gloppen

’

d too, as weel as me.

J AMES. Happen , I mecght ; but con I understond

Onny thing on’t, G ood J ohn, at second hond?

Yo ban this preeaching seeacret at a hit ;Con yo remember haoo it wus a bit?J OHN . Con yo remember — comes into mi hyead

Your tel ling once o’whot yoar lowyer said

Agen ou’d Hunks, the J ustice 0

’the peeace,

But hewas conning somewhat to himself:Many a good thing, there, I have heard read o

’

er,

But never knewwhatpreaching was befoA214 J ames. And pray you, J ohn, how do you know it now?

’

J ohn . Look you; this man has taught it me somehow.

J ames. A ready Scholar!

J ohn. Scholar?” why a dunce

May see, belike, what

’s shewn him all at once.

J ames. It makes me thinkyou’re elevated so,

Of one amazed that has seen a show.

J ohn . W’onld you had seen and heard, as well as I,

And if I should say fe lt, I should not lie,V’hat it was my good luck to hear and see!

You’d have been wond’ring’ too as well as I.

J ames. P erhaps I might; but can I understand

Any thing on’

t, good J ohn , at second hand9

You have this preaching secret at a hit;Can you remember how it was a bit?J ohn . Can you remember?

”comes into my head

Your telling once of what your lawyer saidAgainst old Hunks, the J ustice of the peace,

99

’At would ha’ta

’en away yoar faither

’s leease

Haoo yo discroib’

d him, what a mOn O’th

’ lows !W hat a fine tungue ! and haoo he geet the coaze

Haoo thoons at wur not at the Soizes tooC ould no

’believe t’one hauf o’

whot wus true !J AMES. Remember?

”Ay, and shall do while

whick,Haoo bravely he fund soot a knavish trick.

He seeav’d my faither monny a starling paoond,

And bu’for him I had no

’bin 0

’th

’

graoond.

That wus a mon worth hyearinglm - ifyoar mon

C ould talk loike him, I shid he gloppen’d, J ohn .

But, lukko’me, theeas lowyers are au tou

’

t

To speak their nomminies as soon as thou’t

Haoo done yo thinkwould J udge and J ury look,If onuy on

’um shid go tak a book

Aoot of his pockett, and so read away?They

’d’n soon think he had no

’m ich to say.

Aoor honest lowyer had my faither’s deed;

But, mon , he gan it th’

clark 0’th

’coort to read;

A nd then he spooak! And ifyou had bu’seen

VVhoy, th’J udge himsel could ne

’er keep off his een

iat would have ta’

en away yourfather’s lease ;

owyou describ’d him , wha t a man 0

’th

’

laws!'

ha t afine tongue! and how he got the cause

ow those that were not at th’ Assizes too

mid not believe ih’one half of uhat was true!

J ames. “ Re member?”

Ay, and shall do while I’m quick,owbravely hefound out a knavish trick.

e sav’d myi father many a sterlingpound,

ad butfor him I’d not been on the ground.

hat was a man worth hearing .— if your man

ould talk like him , I should befill’

d withwonder, J ohn .

ut, luck on me (lookat me) , these lawyers are all taught'

o speak their speeches o ut as soon as thoughtlow do you thinkwould J udge and J ury look,any of them should go take a book

at of his pocket, and so read away?heywould soon think he had not much to say.

ar honest lawyer had myfather’s deed ,

ut, man , he gave it ih’clerk 0

’th

’court to read

lnd then he spoke . And ifyou had but seenVhy, the J udge himself could ne

’er keep of his eyes ;

100

The jury gaupt agen z—andweel they meeght,For e’ry word

’ai he had said wus reeght.

J OHN. VVeel, J eeains.— and if a man shid be as waimAbaoot his hev

'

n as yo abaoot yoar fairm,

Dunno’ yo think he’d be as pleeast to hear

A P airson mak his reeght to bond it clear?And show the De

’el to be as fause a toe

As that ou’d rogue, zhe J ustice, wus to yo?

J AMES. Naoo, J ohn , I see what yo been driving at,And I’m 0

’

yoar Oppin ion as to that.

I shid no grutch at takhing a lung waukTo hyear a C largyman, that could bu

’tauk

As that mon did, - could sarch a thing to th’boan,

And in good yarnest. mak the cooze his oona.

I seeldoui miss a Sunday hyearing thooas,’At preeachen weel enugh as preeaching goons ;But I ha’

thou’t sumtimes, haooever good,

A sarmon meoght be better. if it would’At if it could no

’mak folks

’een to weep,

It sartinly m it keep’um ou fro

’sleep.

Yet I ha’seen

’um nodding , toimes enoo,

The J ury gap’d again

—a nd well they m ight,For ev

’ry word that he h ad said was right.

J ohn. Il’

ell. J ames, and if a'man should be as warm

About his hsao’

u as you about yourfarm ,

Do not you thi nk he’dbe as plea s

’

d to hear

A P arson make hi s right to hold it clear?

And hew the Devil to be as false a foeAs that old rogue, the J ustice, was to you?J ames Now, J ohn , I seewhat you are driving at,

And I’m of your opinion as to that.

I should not grudge at taking a long walkTo hear a Clergyman , that could but talk

As thatman did, could search a thing to th’bone,

And in good earnest, make the cause his own .

I seldom miss a Sunday hearing those,Tha tpreach well enough as preaching goes ;But I have thought sometimes , however good,A sermon might be better, if it wouldTha t if it could not makefolks

’eyes to weep,

It certainly might keep them allfrom sleep .

Yet I have seen them nodding, times enow,

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102

J AMES. W lioy, but according to my thinking, J ohn,It gi

’s a hugeous vontidge to a mon

To preeach withaoot book, if he can bu’ do’

t,

And he mun needs be better heard, to boot.

Aoor lowyer lrad nc ane, and I hauf can fee lIt wus the reason whoy he spooak so weelYet, as yo sen, that ooanly winno

’do,

”

For ih’mon agen him praited l ike a foo.

J OHN. J eeams, i'

ts e’en baird upon a lowyer

’s tungus,

They hoirn it aoot to oatherwreeght or wrung ;A diE’

rent keease to that o’

pairsons woide,They are or shid be au 0

’the same soide ;

It maks, inayhap, aoor lowyers reeadier farTo pleead withaoot book, tilanor pairsons are.

J AMES. Its loike it duz ; for folks will larn to speeakSanner bi hauf for contradickshon

’s seeak;

And specially ifwhen their tale is toud,I’ truth or loies, they mun be paid 1

’

goud.

P airsons are paid;— and if they W i n . may pay

Thir curates, J ohn , to preeach for um or prayAnd then they do not,when they ma

’en a m oot,

J ames. t y, but according to my thinking, J ohn,It gives a huge advan tage to a man

To preachwithout book, if he can but do’

t,

And he must needs be better heard, to boot.

Our lawyer had none,— and I half canfeel

Itwas the reason why he spoke so wellYet, as you say, that only will not do,For th

'

man against him prated like afool.J ohn . J ames,

’tis e

’en hard upon a llawyer

’

s tongue,They hire it out to either right or wrongA dif rent case to that of parsons wide,They are, or should be, all on the same side ,

It makes, perhaps, our lawyers readierfarTo plead without book, than our parsons are.

J ames .

’Tis likely it does : forfolks will learn to speakSooner by halffor contradiction

’s sake,

And specially ifwhen their tale is toldIn truth or lies, they must be paid in gold.

P arsons are paid— and if theywill, maypay

Their curates, J ohn, to preachfor them orprayAnd then they do not, when they make a rout,

103

Tungue it so mich as fling thir book abaoot.

Yet word 0’maooth, if it be reeght,

’s no sin ;

W hoy conno pairsons preeach by’t if they win?

J OHN . I know no’z— custom

’s druven to extreeams ;

This may be one’at they han getten, J eeams ;

Some feeamous fellies meeght at first begin ;And au the rest han follow’

d’um e

’er sin

W hen a bell-weather leeaps but o’er a stray,

At that same pleck au th’rest mun jump away.

J AMES. Marry, I wish’at pairsons, one i

’ten,

W ould bu’

jump back into th’oud way agen

Some han greeat books, enoo to filla cairt

Strange !’at they conno

’lay a thing to hairt,

Sich as they loiken best, and ha the paoor

To dray it fro’ within for one haufhaoor!

Haoo coome this man to do’t?

J OHN . I conno’tel l

Do it he did —so yeeasy to himsel,And yet wi so mich yarnestness and fooarce

Of tungue, and bond, and look, and good discooarse,Au smooth and clear — and e

’ry turn it took,

ongue it so much asfling their book about.

at word of mouth, if it be right,’s no sin

7hy cannot parsons preach by’t if they will?

J ohn . I know not —custom’s driven to extremes ;

his may be one tha t they have otten ,imefamousfellows m ight atfi st -begin

nd all the rest havefollow’d them e

’er since

7hen a bellwether leaps, but o’er a straw,

t that same place all th’rest mus tjump away.

J a'

mes. By Mary! I wish that parsons, one in ten,7ould butj ump back in to th

’old way again .

ome have great books, enough tofill a cart

trange! that they cannot lay a thing to heart,uch as they like best, and have the pow

’r

'

o draw itfrom withinfor one halfhour!low some this man to do

’t?

J ohn. I cannot tell'o it he did -so easy to himself,nd yet with so much earnestness andforceftongue, and hand, and look and good discourse,ll smooth and clear -and ev ry turn it took,

104

Still woinding to’t loike wester in a brook;

’At onny mau‘b’ larning, takking aiam,

Meeght ha’ larut tro’

him to ha’done the scien ce.

J AMEB Larning—when preeachers first coome is

they sen,

They wuru no’monny on

’um larnedmen,

Nor gentry nooather

J OHN. W hoy, and they sen true

But in aoor days I daoot i t woono’ do,

To ha’thoons preeach

’at com

’n so meeghty short

O’

th’ first begi nners, so wee l fitted for’t.

W ould but aoor gentlemen o’ larning troy

To preeach,

fro’ih

’

hairt, and lay theeir peppers bye,W e shid no

’thinkwarse on

’um for thir kin,

Nor Ioike um less, haooever larn’d they bin

Aoor folks i’ th’ church- time would be moor devaoot,And moind the hua

’ncas

’at theywuru abaoot :

And thooas good sarmons’

ai mooast on um ma’en,

Bv au good fo lks would be michbetter ta’en .

W itness this gentlemon, 0’Sunday morn ,

The best ’at l e

’er hard sin I wur born.

But, come, —l’ll say no moor z— yo’st hear him first

Stillwinding to’

t, like uater in a brook;That any man of learning, taking aim,

M i ht have learn’dfrom him to have done the

fames. Learning- when preachersfirst came in ,

Theywere not many of them learned men,Nor gentry neither

J ohn . I‘Vhy, and they say true

But in our days I doubt it will not do ,To have those preach that come so mighty shortth

’

first beginners, so wellfi tted for’t

ould but our gentlemen of learn i ng tryTo preachfrom

gth

’ heart, and lay their papers by,We should not thinkworse of themfor their kin,Nor like them less, however learn

’d they be

Ourfolks in Church- time would be more devout,And mind the bus

’uses that t eywere about?

And those good sermons that most of them make,By allgoodfolks would bemuch better taken.

Witness this gentleman , on Sunday morn,The best that I e

’er heard since Iwas born .

But, come,—Illsay no more —youshallhear himfirst

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106

HARRY.1W hoy, Sur, I cons

W hat theer wur in ’um that shid freeten me.

SIR J . So many armed ruflians as came hereb

W as there not cause enough for all to- fear?

HARRY.2Auwhoa, Sur J ohn? lt happen mit be

W i sich foine loardly G entlemen as yo ;Butwe poor foke

Sm J . W hy, prithee,—poor or rich

Is it not much the same ?

HARRY.3 Nou; not so mich.

We warken hardas’t iz for meeat and clooas,And connot eem to be so feert, G od knooas.

SIR J . But, Harry,~ —to see fire and sword advance!

To have such enemies as Rome and France!

Should not this move alike both rich and poor

To drive impending ruin from their door?

HARRY. 4 As for the rich, Sur J ohn, I conno’tel

But for the poor, I’ll onser for myselz

Iffire shid come, I ha’nout for it to burn,

Nor wark to find for oather swoo'

ard or gun ;For FRANCE and ROME my feering is no greater,They lyen, I think, 0

’th’ tother side 0

’th’ weater.

8 18 J . You don’t consider what may be the end

Of such a strange indifference, my friend.

P ray,—whether you have more or less to lose,

W ould you not guard your country from its foes?

HARRY .

1 Why, Sir, I cannot seeM at there was in them that shouldfrighten me.

2 Allwho, Sir J ohn? It haply might be so

With suchfine lordly gentlemen as you

Butwepoorfolks3 No ; not so much.

Weworkhard as it isfor meat and clothes,Andhave no time (cannot aim) to be sofear

’d, G od knows .

4 Asfor the rich, Sir J ohn , I cannot tell;Butfor the poor, I

’ll answerfor myself:

Iffire should come, I have noughtfor it to burn,Nor work tofindfor either sword or gunFor FRANCE and Roma myfearing as no

They lie I think, on t’other side 0

’th

’water.

HARRY. 1 Moy country, Sur? I have, yo understond,In aw the country not one inch 0

’ land.

They that wood’n feight, and ha’ mon’

s blood be spilt,May if they win,

—butwhoy mun I be kilt?SIR J . Your COUNTRY, friend, is not the ground

'

alone ;There is the KING that sits upon the throne ;The P ROTESTANT Success lies at stake,W hich bloody-minded P apists want to shake.

Now, you have some RELIG ION left, I hope,And would not tamely give it to the P ope .

HARRY. 2He would no’ have it, happen, if I would ;

Th’oud mon beloike mit think his ooan as gud;

And true religion, Sur, if I have onuy,No man i

’th’ ward can tak fro’ me,— con he?

SIR J . Ifyou but knew, friend Harry, what a scene

Ofmischiefhappen’d in King J ames

’s reign ;

How but for Orange’s immortal P rince

The P rotestants had all been kill’d long since ;

If I should tel l youHARRY.

3 Nay,we aw, Sur J ohn,Known weel enough that yo

’re a larned mon ;

So wus my gronfayther,- and ore his ale

Monny a toime has tond another tale.

And I darr say my gronfayther toud true

For, Iukko me, th’oud felly was no foo,

Nor rebbilnoather

SIR J . Andwhat was’t he told?

HA RRY .

1 My country, Sir? I have, youunda stand,1all the country not one inch ofland.

have any,itfrom me,— can he?

3 Nay, we all, Sir J ohn,nowwell enough that you

’

re a learned man ;twas my grandfather, - and o’er his ale

buya time has told another tale.

ad Idare say my grandfather told true ;it , look on me (tankon me) the oldfellowwas nofool,lr rebelwitha

108

HARRY.1 W hoy, moor a decal than my brainpon conhoud.

Its loike yo known as haoo, Sur, th’Oliverians

Cut of th’ King

’

s hyead

SIR J . Yes,HARRY. And haoo th

’P resbyterian

Turnt aoot his son and maden a rehelutlon .

Sir. J . They did It, man , to save the cons titution ;’Twas Churchmen too who brought K ing W illiam inAs wellas they

HARRY.3 W hoy, be theywhooa they win ,

O ne egg, he sed, wus ne’

er moor loike another

Than thooas two mac 0 foke wurn loike tone t’other.

They wuru at aw toimes cumies to th’B lood Royal,

And naoo wondu ha It that none but hom are loyal.Kaoo con that be, Sur?

SIR J . W hy, I’lltell thee how

HARRY.4Nay, but yo connot

SIR J . W el l, but hear me now;Our Kings are stewards

HARRY.S Sur, yo meean they

“warn ;For things, yo known, han tan another turn ;The Stuart Race is

SIR J . P oh! thou tak’

st me wrongHARRY.

6 Haoo mun I tak oo reet?

SIR J . I say, so longAs Kings are our P rotectors

HA RRY .

1 Why more a deal than my brain -

pan can hold.

’Tis likely, Sir, youknowhow the Oliverians

Cut of th’King

’s head

2 And how th’ P resbyteriansTuru

’d out his son , and made a revolution.

3 Why, be theywho they will,One eg he said,was ne

’er more like another

Than t se two make (sort) offolks were like each other.

They were at all times enem ies to th’ Blood Royal,And nowwould have it, that none but they are loyal.How can that be, S ir?

4 Nay, but you cannot

5 Sir, you mean they“were ;

For things, you know, have ta’en another turn ;

The Stuart Race is

6 Howmust I take you right?

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llO

SIR J . Thou’rt a ’

sly tyke I’ll talkwith thee no morti

HARRY. 1 W hoy, ifyo pleeasen then, Sur, ween

gIve ore,

W ishing that eerymon may have his reet,Feight as feight winn ;

—and so, Sur J ohn, good neet!

SIR J . Thou’lt look, I find, to thy own carcau still.

HARRY. 2 Yoi, Sur, as lung as ere I con, I will.

HA BBY .

1 IVhy, ifyou please, then, Sir, wewill give o’er

,

Wishing that ev’

ry man may have his right,Fight who willfight , and so, Sir J ohn , good n ight!

2 Yes, Sir, as long as e’er I can , I wall.

Sly Fellow.

A DIALOG UE,

About compelling a P erson to take the Oaths to the G overnment.

SIR J OHN J OBSON AND HARRY HOMESP UN.

SIR J . WHY so grave, Harry —What’s the matter,

pray?

Whatmakes thee look so sorrowful to-day?

HARRY. 1 Whoy, Sur, I geet sore trubbled i’my

moind,

Atwhot yon foke hand tond me wheer I doind.

SIR J . P rithee, what’s that?

HARRY.2 They tonden me, Sur J oh

n,

That yo han sent a summons to a mon

To tak an ooath ameety long on too ;

An they aw sen its moor til l he can do.

SIR J . Do or not do, what bus’ness is

’t of thIne?

HARRY .

1 M y, Sir, I got sore troubled in mymind,

Atwhat youfolks have told me where I din’d.

2 They told me, Sir J ohn,

That you have sent a summons toa man

To take an oath, -a mighty long one too ;

And they allsay,’tis more than he can do.

111

HARRY. 1“ Bus

’

ness? —wboy, he’s a naibor, Sur, 0

’

mm ;

An yo han hard, beloike, noor pairson tell’At one mun love their naibor as theirsel;

Besoides at he’s a sarviseable fel ly

As onuy at we han 0’th

’busness, welly.

And then, an ooath yo shanno hyear come aoot

0 that mons maooth, Sur J ohn, the year abaoot ;And if he be i

’th

’ moind at he has been,

Y o’n foind it mich ado to cram one in.

SIR J . Harry, that matter we shall soon discuss ;Trial ofskil l is now ’

twixt him andus.

W e must and will subdue him, ifwe can

He’s a refractory, seditious man.

HARRY. 2 Nay, ifye bin for giving aoot o’hond

Hard words, Sur, at one connot understond,I

’ll say no moor — or e lse I ha taen awank

That yo and I mit’n have a bit 0

’tank.

But happen naoo yo’re not i

’th’ humour

SIR J . Yes ;Talkwhat thou wilt

,HARRY.

.3 And yo

’n no

’tak

’t amiss?

SIR J . N O ;

HARRY.4 Then I

’ll tell oo, mester, whot I think.

SIR J . Sit thee down first ; —wilt have a little drink?

HARRY .

l Bus’ness?

” t y he’s a neighbour, Sir, of

nd you have heard,perhaps, our parson tell

hat one must love one’s neighbour as one

’s self;

esides that he’s a serviceablefellowearly as any thatwe have of th

’ bus’ness .

nd then, an oath you shallnot hear come out

t'

that man ’s mouth, Sir J ohn , the year about;

nd If he be in th’mind that he has been,

ou’llfind it much ado to cram one in .

2 Nay, ifyou befor giving out of hand'

ard words , Sir, that one cannot understand,ll say no more,

- ar else I have ta’

en a walkhat you and I might have a bit of talk.

wt now, perhaps, you’re not in th

’humour

3 You’ll not take it amiss?

4 Then I’ll tell you,master, what I think.

112

HARRY. 1 N ow; nor yo noather ; we’n be soaber booath,

G od willmg, Sur, and tank abaoot this ooath.

SIR J . W hat dost thou know about it?

HARRY.2 W hoy, no mich,

That’s true enough,

—thank G od — l’m no so rich ;

But 1 con guex abaoot Itweel enough

Foke at ban tan it, sen It’s weary tough.

There’s monny a one that would ha gen a craoon ,

W ith aw his heart, he neer had leet it daoon .

SIR J . But It shall cost this fellowmore than so

Ifhe don’t take it ; —that I

’ll let hIm know.

HARRY.3 Wm ye , Sur?

SIR J . Yes, I wil l .HARRY.

4 And if yo win,Sur J ohn,

\ yo’re guilty of awicked sin .

SIR J . Am I? How so?

HARRY.5 W hoy, dunnot yo maintain

At mon may tak G od’s holy name i

’vain?

SIR J . No ; indeed don’t I —’

tis what I abhor.

HARRY.6 Then pray ye naoo, whot is this Summonsfor?

Is is not sent to mak a mon to swear

Summot abaoot the King and his reetHeir?-And ar not yo weel satisfy

’d to boot,

’At he mun takG od

’s name I vain to do

’t?

H A R R Y .

1 No ; nor you neither ; we’ll be sober both,

G od willing, Sir, and talk about this oath.

2 Why, not much,That’s true enough thank G od — I’m not so rich;But I can guess about i t well enough :Folks tha t have ta

’en it say,

’tis weary tough.

There’s many a one that would have giv’n a crown

With allhis heart, he ne’er had let it down .

3 Will you, Sir?4 And ifyou will,

S ir J ohn, you’re gu ilty of a wicked sin .

5 t y, do not you maintain

A man may take G od’s holy name in vain?

6 Then pray ye now, what is this Summons for?Is it not sent to make a man to swearSomething about the K ing and his right heir?And are you notwell satisfy

’d, to boot,

That he must take G od’s name in vain to do

’t?

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114

Then tempt a mon to utter with his tung1’th

’name 0

’G od whot he believes is rung.

Mun we be P apists, ifwe dunnot make

A mon belye his Maker for aoor sake?

Mun we be slaves, except we forcen fokeTo come and put their necks into aoor yoke?

SIR J . Thou dost not, Harry, understand the lawsHARRY.

1 W hoy, han they, Sur, sich desperate lun;claws,

That a Inon’s conscience hid within his hairt

Mun be scratch’d aoot on’t by um? For my pairt,

Laws or noa laws, I’m sure we shidden do

As we awwishen to be done unto.

SIR J . G ood faith! thou preachest tolerablywel lButwouldst thou have th neighbour to rebe l ?To make disturbances in hurch and State,And not be punish

’d till it is too late?Magistrates, man, must have a care in time,And in the bud must n ip the sprouting crime .

HARRY. 2 Nip it i’th’ bud — And so itmun be (it

Yo thinken‘

then, by punishing too soon?

Magistrates, Sur, so haesty and and so hard,Maen aw th

’ Rebel lions’

at thir or i’th’ ward.

Let foke be quietwhen they ar so. Sur,And noather Church nor State wil l maka stur.

HARRY .

Than tempt a man to utter with his tongueIn th

’nami

pfG od what he believes is wrong.

Must we'

be ii'

pists, ifwe do not make

A man belie his Makerfor our sake?Must we be slaves, except weforcefolkTo come and put their necks into our yoke?

1 Why, have they, Sir, such desperate long claws,That a man’

s conscience, hid within his heart,Must be scratch

’d out of it by them? For my part,

laws or no law , I am sure we should doAs we allwish to be done unto.

2 “Ni it in th’ bud?”— And so it must be done,You thi then, by punishing too soon?

Ma rates, S ir, so hasty and 80

M e all th’rebellions that there are in th

’ world.

Letfolks be quiet when theya re so, Sir,And neither Church nor State willmake a stir.

But, to be made to pay, or be forsworn,Vexes

’em boath, as sure as yo ar baurn .

Whoy mun yo makmy naibor pay sich scores?

His soul is his, asweel as oars is yoars.

SIR . J . The law, not obliges him to pay.

.HARRY. 1 Whoywin yo tak that low agen him, hay?

IfyO mun do’t whether yo win or not,

Are yo a P apist, or a slave, or whot?Tell me , (if this faoo play he not yoar ooan)What mun yo pay for letting him alooan?

SIR J . I ay?— No law obliges me to that.

What is it, arry, that thou wouldst be at?

HARRY. 2W hoy, Sur, at thief- W hen laws maen

mich adoo,Monny a wise mon is made into a foo ;Freeten

’

d 0’th’ sudden aoot of his rcet sense,

He’ l l se l l his wits and aw to save his pence .

But, pra whot mon with hauf o ’tar good tlIout

Would 0 his naibo r an ill turn for nout,

When he himselgets here a farthing by’t

But shaum ofhurting aoot of arrant spite?

This is the wark, ifyo’n consider weel,

Not of a mon, Sur J ohn, but ofa Deel .

11A li HY .

But, to be made to pay, or be f ora'

orn,

Veres them both, as sure as you are born .

Whymust you make my neighbour pay such scores?

His soul is his, as well as yours is yours .

1 Why will you take that lawagains t him, ha?

Ifyou must do’t whether you will or not,

Are you a P apist, or a slave, or what?Tellme, ifthisfoulplay be not your own,What must you pay or letting him alone?

2 Why, Sir, at t is,— When laws make”any a wise man is made into a fool;Frighten

’d on th’ sudden out of his right sense,

He’ll sell his wits and all, to save his pence.

But, pray, what man with half of your goodWould do his neighbour an ill turnfor nought,When he himself gets ne

’er afarthing by

’t

But shame of hurting out of arrant spite?

This is the work, if ou’ll consider well,

Not of a man, Sir john, but ofa Devil.

116

I

Ifone cud tak a look at that mon’s breast,

W e shudden see him what they cawn possest.”

SIR J . Thou mak’et a Devil ofme .

— Very well !HARRY. 1 Now, now; its yo that maen one o

’

yorsel.

I’d mak a mon o’

ye, Sur, if I cud,A gradely mon, that seeches to do good,And not to labbor books and sarch a cawse

For hate ly doings in hard favor’d laws.

SIR J . Thou sarches”me, I

’m sure.

—W here has

thou had

This same book- searching information, lad?

W e have,’tis true, been studying in what shape

W e best might catch thy neighbour in a scrape.

But, by thy talking, we might spare the pains,And better bus

’ness might employ our brains

HARRY. 2 Ay marry,meeght it.— Thooas that letten

Their breeans to mischiefmit as weel -be baoot ;W hoile they done so it con be no greeat newsThat fokes shid cawum summat warse then foos.SIR J . Harr thou’rt got into a talking cue.

HARRY.3 o gin me leeaf, do not ye?

SIR J . I do.

Now, prithee, tel l me then and talk away,N or mince the matter,—q what do people say?

HARRY. 4 I’ll telloo, Sur ; Aoor J ustices,

That tan themselves to be sich loyal men .

Makken moor enemies to th’K ing and Oracon

HARRY .

If one could take a look in that man’s breast,

We should see him wha t they call possess’d.

1 No, no'

;’tis you that make one ofyourself.

I’d make a man of you, Sir, ifI could,A worthy (clever) man that searche s (seeks) to doAnd not to labour books and search a cause

it can be no great newscall them something worse than fools.

leave, do not you?

Sir Our J ustices, they say,That take themselves to be such loyalmen ,

Make more enemies to theKing and crown

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118

W hene’er they thrutten that intq my dish,

It strick me dumb aootreet as onuy fish.

Had I gocan on,— I know, Sur, whot I know,

They’

d soon ha’said I wur as badas yo.

Yo conno think,— ifImay be belicv

’d,Yo conno think, Sur, haoo my heart wus griev

’d.

I’d fai n ha’ yo belov

’d, Sur, In yoar turn

As aw yoar anciters before ye wuru;And I believe that none 0

’th

’race before,

Be who they win, could ere desarve it moor,If thooas good qualities that G od has gin ye,M it but appear withaoot as they are in ye .

But i’ this one faoo pleck, I need mun say,Yo generaten fro

’um quite away.

I hope yo tan it i’

good part, Sur J ohn .

Imeean to sarve ye

SIR J . Honest lad ! G o on,

I think thou dost. Thee I shall sooner heedThan twenty prating wiseacres .

—P roceed.

HARRY.1 W hoy then, Sur J ohn, if I may be so boud,

G ood-willwhen getten is as good as goud.

Yoar faither left ye here a foine estate,

HA RRY .

W'

henever they thrust that into my dish,It struck me dumb outright as anyfish.

Had I gone ou,— I know, S ir, wha t I know,

They’d soon have said I was as bad as you.

You cannot think,— ifI may be believ’

d,You cannot think, Sir, howmy heart was griev

’d.

I’

dfain have you belov’d, S ir, in your turn

As all your ancestors before you were ;And I believe that none of th

’race before,

Be who they will, could e’

er deserve it more,If those good qualities that G od has giv

’n you,

M ight but appear without as they are in you.

But in this pnefoulplace, I needs must say,You degen

’ratefrom them quite away.

I hope you take it in good part, S ir J ohnI mean to serve you

1 Why then, Sir J ohn, tf I may be so bold,G ood willwhen gotten is as good as gold.

Yourfather left you here afine estate,

119

He sout his naibors’ love and not their hate ;

His principles wurn ofannother mack

From thoons at yo han been advois’d to tak.

This greet lung ooath he neer could understond ;Ifyo bin wiser, naoo yo han his loud,Better for yo

—and yet I conno skillKaoo it shid happen ;

— but be that as’twill,

Yet for yoar faither’s seeake

’ats decad and gone,

Yo shid’u consider wi’ yoar sel, Sur J ohu,W hether its hondsom for his Son and HeirTo foorce loike-moindedmen to come and swear ;M onny han said that seen ye so behave,Sur J ohn here tramples on his faither

’s grave.

Ifwhen th’ oud mester wur alive himsel,The J ustices for feear he shid rebelHad usénd him as yo done other foke,Yoarwheels had wanted monny a pratty spoke.

Had he been made agen his ocan consent

A P apish, Sur, by Act 0’ P arliament,

Yo wouldn ha’ caw’d um by their proper name

HARRY .

e sought his neighbours’ love and not their hate ;

is principles were of another make (sort)" om those that you have been advis

’d to take.

his great long oath he ne’er could understand;

you be wiser, nowyou have his land,etterfor you — and yet I cannot skill

ow it should happen — but be that as’twill,

atfor yourfather’s sake that

’s dead and gone,

on should consider with yourself, S ir J ohn ,’hether

’tis handsomefor his son and heir

9force like-minded men to come and swear ;'any have said that see you so behave,S ir J ohn here tramples on his father

’s grave.

when th’ old master was alive himself,he J usticesforfear he should rebel'

ad used him as you do otherfolk,our wheels hadwanted many a pretty spoke.

'

ad he been made against his own consent

P apist, Sir, by Act of P arliament,bu would have call’d themby

'

their proper name

120

That did the thing. tho’asoo yo done the same.

Th’oud mon

’s hard yoozitch would ha

’

rais’d yoar bf.

SIR J . So really, Harry, I believe it would :I should not quietly have sntcn still,Had any of them us

’

d my lather ill.

HARRY. 1 W hoy, Sur, and conno’

yo think at it,And show some marcy nooo to other men?

Suppose this mon, becose he conno'think

J ust as yo done, had nooathermecat nor drink,Could no

’

, becose’at laws ma’

en sich a paoose,W ark in his bus

’ness

o

and maintain his haoose ;But aw his childer wurn to beg i

’th

’street,

W oulden yo think it sich a blessed sect?W ould no

’

yo say at seeing rags and ruin,The Dec l wus in me - W hatwus I adoing?

YO gan me leeafto tauk, Sur

SIR J . So I did,And must confess that I am fairly chid;Thy honest bluntness oft has made me smi le,Harry, but I ne

’er hed’ thee all the while

NowI beli eve that thou hast gain’

d thy end,And I, a better temper tow

’rds thy frIend.

HARRY.2 Eh!Sur! G od send it — Ifyoar

-heart wuroppen

’tl

To loving thouts haoo naibors would be gloppen’d!

Before this J usticing made sich a pother,

HARRY .

That did the thing, tho’nowyou do the same.

Th“

old man’s hard usage would have rais

’d your blood

I t y, Sir, and cannot you think at it, then,And shewsome mercy now to other men?

Suppose this man because he cannot think

J ust as you do, had neither meat nor drink,Could not, because that. laws make such a pause,Work in his bus

’ness and maintain his house;

But allhis hhildren were to beg in th’street,

Would‘ ou think it such a blessed sight?

Would not you say at seeing rags and ruin ,

The De vilwas in med—What was I a doing?You cc me leave to talk, S ir

2 h!Sir! G od send it —If your heartwere apea’d

To lovi thoughts, howneighbour

'

s would be astonish’dBefore is J usticing made such a pother,

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A G ENUINE DIALOG UE,

Between a G entlewoman at Derby and her Maid,

In the Beginning of D ecember, 1745 .

MISTRESS AND J ENNY.

MRS. J ENNY , come here : I’m told that you have been

To see this man

J ENNY. W hat'

man?

MRS. W hy you have seenThe young P retender, hussy, at his lodging.

Is it not so — Come, tell me without dodging.

J ENNY. W hy, real ly, Madam, I was passing by,Thinking no harm, not in the least not I;And somebody or other that I met

MRS. W hat somebody?”

J ENNY. Indeed,now I forgetSaid what a handsome man he was — and so,

Begging your pardon, Madam, I DID G O ;

But had no ill intention in the thing,A cat may look, as folks say, at a King.

MRS. KING” do you call him, you rebe l lious slut?

J ENNY. I did not call him so, good Madam, but

MRS. But me no butting—not another day

Shall any rebel in my service stay.

I owe you twenty shil lings,— there’s a G uinea ;P ack up and go about your bus

’ness, J enny.

Matters are come indeed to a fine pass

The next thing, I suppose, you’ll go to Mass.

J ENNY. To Mass?” W hat road? For I don’t know

the place,Nor could I tel l which way to turn my face.

MRS. Turn —You’l l turn P apist andbelieve Black”

W hite .

J ENNY. W hy, bless me, Madam, I’ve not lost my sight

'

MRS. And then the P riest wil l bid you cut my throat.

J ENNY. Dear loving M istress, how you talk by rote !I would not hurt a hair ofyour dear head,W ere allthe P riests in Mass to killme dead

123

And— I don’t say it with design to brag,

Since I’ve been with you, you han

’t lost a rag.

I cut your throat!”because I saw the P rince,

And never thought of black or white e’er since.

MRS. G ood - this is you that did not callhim KingAnd is not P rince, you minx, the self- same thing?J ENNY. You are so hasty, Madam,

with your snarls!W ould you have me call the gentleman plain Charles?MRS. P rince Charles” again

— Speak out your

treason tales,His Royal Highness Charles, the P rince ofW ales!”

J ENNY. Oh!Madam !you say more of him than me ;For I said nothing ofhis pedigree.

MRS. P edigree!” Fool !W hatwould thewench beat?

W hat pedigree has any bastard brat?

J ENNY. Nay, I’m no Harold, be he what he will,

He is a charming man to look at sti l l .W hen Iwas got in there amongst the throng,His Royal Highness

MRS. Hussy!hold your tongue !J ENNY. YOu call

’d him so yourself but just e

’en now.

MRS. Yes, so I did —but then, the manner— how?J ENNY. And will you turn a servant out of doors,

Because her manners ben’t so fine as yours?

MRS. J enny! I say you had no bus’ness, neither

To see the creature, nor go near him either.

J ENNY. Creature !” Nay, pardon, Madam,— he

’s no

creature,

But a sweet comely Christian, ev’ry feature.

MRS. No creature —W ould youworship him, you

dunce

J ENNY. I would youwere to see hisW orship once !

MRS. How can the girl cross questions l ike a fool?Or think that I should go ,

and see the tool?J enny! though you have done so much amiss,I pity such an ignorance as this.

Ifyou’ll go mind your work as heretofore,

And keep at home, I’ll pass the matter o

’er.

J ENNY. Ah!Madam, you’re so good!let me but speak

My simple mind, or else my heart wil l break,I’ve such a strange foreboding in my heart,If you but saw him once we should not part.

Do see him once! W hat harm is there in seeing?

Ifafter that there be not an agreeing,

124

Then cal l me twenty Rebel sluts, ifyou,W hen you have seen him, ben

’t a Rebel too.

Nowwhether J enny did persuade her dame,Is not as yet betrumpeted by fame.

Sometimes there happen to be secret viewsThat are not put into the public news ;But by report, that private rumour gives,She

’l l never part with J enny while she lives.

THE

CONTRAST BETWEEN T-WO LORDS,

AT TH E“ “ BM ION.

The uhtimelyfate of the Lords K ilmarnock and Bab ies-inc exciteduniversal commiseration. It is saia to have drm fi '

om Beu lah “u nwverses, which commenced with thefollowing coupler,

P ity’d by gentle m inds K ilmarnock died ;

The brave, Balmerino, were on thy side.

Wecan nowformbut inadequate conceptions ofpublicfecling on“a cocam a‘

.

Qfmanyogood mcnwcrc dividcd on u d a u bicctfor

discussion as a dcsputed nght Ky.

Balmerino, on the contrary, having supported, in the best mannerhewasable, that cause which be believed hadjustice in itsfavaur, disdained byany act to disparagehisfair character, or by apparent ence to induce

a beliefofhisformer conduct having been nuprin and h eM arion:

insincere. The ex it of such amanfrom the stage of life, as have

been calculated upon,r ted no discredit onhis reputation. e resign

ed himself to deathwit the equanimity of a to the claim of is

jured royalty, and seemed nobly to exalt in what was called on that

account to endure. After he was beheaded thefollavingsays the G entleman

’s Magazine, was written on him;m

Here lies a Baron bold : take care,“

There may be treason in a tear ;But yet my Arthur may find roomWhere greater folks don

’t always con e.

AS crowds attended when the fatal blowTook offKilmarnock and Balmerino,Men weresurpris

’

d '

that warriors ona side

Should in the common field ofdeath divide

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126

If each obey’d the dictates of his breast,

And of true worth sincerity be test,Then to KILMARNOCK

’S penitence give quarter,

And BALMERINO cal l , a valiant martyr.

”

E P IS T L E TO A F R IE N D,

ON THE

Art of English P oetry.

P ART FIRST.

THE art ofEnglish P oetry, I find,At present, J enkins, occupies your mind;You have a vast desire to it, you say,And want my help to put you in the way,W ant me to tell what books you are to read,How to begin at first, and howproceed.

Nowtho“

in short-hand, my Salopian friend,To give directions I may wel l pretend,As having had the honour to impartIts full perfection to that English art,W hich you and many a sagacious youth

By sure experience know to be the truth ;Yet how in matters of poetic reachShal l I, myself untaught, pretend to teach?W el l I remember that myyounger breastThe same desire , that re igns in yours, possess

’d.

Me,— numhers flowing to a measur

’d time,Me,

—sweetest grace ofEnglish verse, the Rhyme,Choice epithet, and smooth, descriptive line,Conspiring all to finish one design,Smit with delight ;— ful l negligent ofprose,And thro

’mere liking tempted to compose,

To rate according to my school -boy schemes,Ten lines in verse worth half a hundred themes.

127

W ithout one living person to consult,T he years went on from tender to adult;A nd as for poring to consult the dead,T ruly, that never came into my head.

Not Homer, V irgil, Horace?”— do you ask?

VVhy, yes ; the rodwould send me to the task.

But all the consultation that came out

Had this in view— to scape the whipping bout.W as any subjectwaiting to be sung?

TheMuse was question’d in the vulgar tongue ;

W ho, if she could not answer wel l in that,W ould hardly mend herself in G reek or Lat.’Tis poor encouragement for you to hope

That my instructions will attain the scope.

Yet since the help which you are pleas‘

d to seek,Does not concern the Latin or the G reek;In ancient C lassics tho " but little read,I know and care as little what they said,In plain, familiar English for your sake,This untried province I will undertake,And rules for verse as readily instil,As if ability had squall

’d wil l :

Fair stipulation first on either side,In form and manner here annex

’d, imply’d,

Conditions are— that if the Muse should err,

You'

gave th’occasion and must pardon her ;

Ifaught occur, on sitting down to try,That may deserve the casting ofyour eye,Ifhint arise in any sort to suit

W ith'

your intent, you shall be welcome to’t.

You may rememberwhen you first beganTo learn the truly tachygraphic plan ,How, tracing step by step the simplest line,W e grounded, rais

’d, and finish’d our design ;Howwe examin

’d language and its pow

’rs,

And then adjusted ev’ry stroke to ours.

W hilst the same method, follow’d in the main,

Made other matters more concisely plain,Made English, French, Italian , Hebrew too,

Appear the clearest in a short- handview;W hich in allpoints where language was concern

’d,

Explain’d how best and soonest theywere learn

’d,

Shetv’dwhere to end as we ll as to commence

At that one central point of view—G oon SEN“ .

There fix your eye, then, ifyou mean towrite

Verse that is fit to read or to recite.

A P oet slighting this initial ruleIs but at best an artificial foolNeedless of learni ng verse were the expense,P lain prose might serve to shew his want bf SENSE.

But youwho have It , and would give to proseThe grace that English P oetry bestows,C onsider how the short- hand scheme in part

May be apply’d to the poetic art

To write or read in that, you understood,There must be sense, and sense that must be good;The more where words were proper and exact,

In book or speech, the more we could contract;

The HAND, you know, became a kind of test,In this respect whatwritings were the best.

If incorrect the language or absurd,It cost the fuller noting ofeach word;But when more apt, grammatical, and true,Full oft a letter for a word would do.

Form to yourself directly the designOf so constructing a poetic line,That it may cost in writing it our way,The least expence of ink, as one may sayThat word or phrase, in measure that you please,May come the nearest to prosaic ease .

W hilst this directs in gen’ralyour attempt,

You’ll see the cases from the rule exempt,

Howword or sentence you may oft transpose,And verse be still as natural as prose.

As natural , - for, tho’ we cal l it art,

The worth in P oetry is nature’s part.

Here artis est celare artem,” here

Art must be hid that nature may appear,So lie conceal’dbehind the shining glassThat nature

’s image may the best repass ;

It is the perfection ofart to concealart.

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13 0

Tho’ by untoward circumstances check’d

There lies a genius, but without effect.Many a fine plant, uncultivated, dies,Andworse, withmore encouragement, may rise .

Des Mecienates — what had Maro been,Had not Mecienas rais

’d the MUSE within?

YOURS, honest pupil, when you are inclin’

d,May versify according to your mind;She has no reason, to no patron tied,To prostitute her favours to a side ;Nor to false taste, (if into such the age

Shall plunge itself) to sacrifice her page ;Much less with any vicious topic vileAn art of chaster offspring to defile.

Allverse unworthy of an EnglishMuse

Of short- hand race, she may, and must refuse.

Ancient and modern aptitude to run

Into some errors which you ought to shun

W il l now and then occasion , I foresee,In place or out, a pre cipe

‘

rfrom me .

W hen this shallhappen, never stand to tryThe WHERE of its appearance, but the WHY;Le$t by authorities, or old or new,

You should be tempted to incur them too ;

Since the most celebrated names infer

No sort ofprivilege in you to err.

Far from itz— Even where they may excel,Barely to imitate is not so we ll ;Much less should their authority prevail,Or warrant you to followwhere they fail.

’Tis not to search for precedents alone ,But how to form a judgment of your own,In writing verse that is your main affair,Main end ofallmy monitory care,

”’ho hate servility to common lawThat keeps an equitable right in awe ;By use and custom justifies its lot,Its modes and fashions, whether right or not ;

C ramps the free genius, clips the Muse‘s wing,

And to one poet ties another’s string,

oh bestowon us such men as Mece nas (patrons of learning).t A Command.

13 1

P roducing from their hardly various lines,S o many copies and so few designs.

Neither by names nor numbers be deterr’d,

N or yield to mix amongst the servile herd

Exert the l iberty which allavow,

Tho’slaves in practice , and begin just now;

B egin with me, and construe what I write

N ot to preclude your judgment, but t’excite ;

J ust as you once examin‘

tlwhat I taught

F rom first to last, with unaddicted thought,S o while at your request I ve‘nture here

To play the master, see that allbe clear,P reserve the freedom which you always took,N or, if it teach amiss, regard the book.

Thus unencumber’d let us move along,

As road shall lead us, to the mount oi song ;S tillkeeping, so far by agreement tied,G ood verse i n prospect, and good sense for guide.

P ART SECOND .

SENSE presuppos’d and resolute intent,

To regulate thereby poetic bent,Let us examine language once again,

As erst we did to regulate the pen ;And then observe how the peculiar frame

Ofwords in English may assist your aim.

The end of speech vouchsaf’d to human kind,

Is to express conceptions of the mind.

By painted speech, or writing’s wond’rous aid,

The l ines of thought are legibly display’d,

In any place, at any time appear,

And Si lent figure speaks to mental ear,Surprising permanence ofmeani ng found

For distant voice and momentary sound.

W hether by heav’n at first the huge effect

Reveal’d, or by inventive wit,- reflect

W hat good may follow if a man exert

The talent right, —what ill, if he pervert ;

13 2

And to exertion, whether good or bad,W hat strength engaging poetry may add;

That ifsuccessful in your present drift,You may not risk to desecrate the gift.

You see, in speaking, or by sound or ink,

The grand inceptive caution is—to think,To measure, ponder, ruminate, digest,Or any phrase that wil l betokenbestA due attention to make art and skillTurn all to good, or least ofallto ill,Never to give on anywarm pretence,To just observers cause ofjust ofi

'

ence.

To truth, to good undoubtedly belongThe skil l ofpoets and the charm ofsong.

In verse or prose, in nature or in art,

The head begins the movement, or the heart;Ifboth unite, ifboth be clear and sound,Then may perfection in a work be found,Then does the preacher, then the poet shine,And justly take the title ofDivine.

By common sense the world has been all led

To make distinction of the heart and head

Distinction worthy ofyour keenest ken

In passing judgment upon books and men,Upon yourself, before you shall submitTo other judges what yourselfhaswrit.

The heart, the head, it may suffice to note,

Two dilf’rent kinds ofpoetry promote ;One more sublime, more sacred, and severe,

That shines in P oetry’s celestial sphere ;

One ofa useful , though a humbler birth,That ornaments its lower globe of earth.

These we shall here ascribe, ifyou think fit,One to good sense, the other to good wit;And grant thatwhichsoever be display

’d,

It must have something of the other’s aid;

W ithout some wit solidity is dull,As bad the sprightly nonsense, to the full .

To clothe them both in la uage andby rule,Let us again revise the short d school,

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13 4

That botch, or patch, or clumsy, awkward seamMar not poetic unity of theme .

This theme or subject for your EnglishMusc’

Belongs of right to you and her to choose .

Your own unbiase’d inclinations best

The freer topics for a verse suggest.

AllW i thin bound of innocence is free ;And you may range without consulting me,The just, delightful, and extensive sphere ;All e lse— what need of caution to

.forbear

None ; ifthe bards, and tsome of them renown’d,~

Had not transgress’d and overleap

’d the bound.

This may indeed bid you to have a care,

Me to renew the warning to bewareW hile unrestrain’

d you set yourself the task,Let it be harm less, and ’

tis all I ask.

Some, to be sure, more exce llent and grandYour practis

’d genius may in time demand ;

To these in view, no doubt, you may in willDevote at present your completer skill ;And whilst in l ittle essays you eXpress,Or clothe a thought, in versifying dress,On fair ideas they may turn, and just,And pave the way

to something more august.

Ifwell your earlier specimens intend,From smallbeginnings you may greatly end,W rite what the good may praise as they peruse,And bless, with no unfruitful fame, the Muse.

A youthful Muse, a sprightly one may crave

To intermix the cheerful with the grave ;Indulge her choice, nor stop the flowing streamW here verse adorns an inoffensive theme.

Unwill’d endeavour is the same as faint,Andbriskwill languish if it feel constraint.From task impos

’d, from any kind of force,

A stiff and starch’d production comes ofcourse,Un less it suit, as itmay chancé

'

to do,The present humour of the Muse and you;Sooner, so ask’d, thatwilling numbers flowThe more acceptable and a propos.Tho’

prompt, .

lfproper the Occasion rise,Her nimbler aidno gen

’rous Muse denies ;

13 5

But ifa fair and friendly call invite,Speeds on the verse to opportune delight,Cuts all de lays to satisfaction short

W hen friends and seasons are in temper for t

As by this present writing one may see,

Dear Muse ofmine, is just the case with thee.

A gen’rous Muse, I must again repeat,

Disda’

ins the poor poetical conceitOf oaching verse for personal repute,And

,

writing on ly to be thought to do’t,

W ithout regarding one of its chief ends,At once to profit and to please one

’s friends.

Tho’to the hard she dictate first the line,

The reader’s benefit is her design .

Mistaken poets seek for private fame ;’Tis gen

’ral use that sanctifies the name .

Be free and choose what subject then you will ;But keep your readers in remembrance still ,Your future judges,— tho

’ ’tis in your choice

In what committees who shall have a voice ;Their satisfaction if the Muse prefers,And their esteem who justly merit hers,They who do not, however prompt of throat,

‘

Stand all excluded from the legal vote.

Verse, any readers, for whom verse is writ,May to the press or to the flames commit;A poet signs the judgment on his verse,If readers worthy to be pleas

’d, rehearse ;But when the blockheads meddle in the cause,

Laughs at their blame,and smiles at their applause.

’Twil l add to’

future versifying ease

To think on judges whom you ought to please,To fancy some ofyour selected friendsDiscussing points to which a subject tends,By whom, you guess, it would be well discuss

’d,

And judgment torm’d that you might safely trust.

If you corlceive them sitting on the bench,Hints what is fit to add or to retrench

Anticipating fancy may supply,And save the trouble to the real eye ;J udgment awaken

'

d may improve the theme

W ith righter verdict, tho’the court

’s a dream.

13 6

TO RALP H LEYCESTER, ESQ.

On his sending the Author a HARE , according to annual Custom.

WHAT!anotherhare," r P eter! W el l somuch the betterI acknowledge myselfto be doubly your debtor ;Should have thank’d you indeed for the last afore now,But the forelock of time has been short of somehowI hope you .won’

t take it, Sir, as an afi'

ront;’Twas an excellent good one for what there was on’t.But since by your favour,

— here, two at a time,Let that be for sense and this other for rhyme s

Indeed when old J ackson, your namesake and neighbour,Had broughtwhat you call

id there, the fruits oifyour labour,

Ofawhole day’swhole labour,”— so labour

f

dthemountain,Thought I, and when got to the end ofher counting,W hile the neighbours allround her withWonder struckdumb,Stood to see what huge monster was waiting to come,At last she with much ado brought forth a hero,W hich, when dress

’

d, wouldmake much the same hill offare-o .

Not that I lik’d your presentone penny ,the worse

No ; if these be your thoughts, you are .out of your course ;Your intention had had the same courtesy in

’t if

The fruits of‘your ,labour were e

’er so dimin

’tive.

Nor should I have fail’d ofmy thanks, if old J ackson

Had not told me that he was oblig’dto go back soon ;

I began once to write but I could not proceed inTt,

And indeed, as it happens,’tis well that I didn’

t.

Had I answer’d your Minor, perhaps’tis awager

W hether ever or not I had heardofyourMajor ;But now having laid down yourpremises twain,The conclus ion is ood, and the consequence plain ;For, as old Aristot e said some time agone,Two hens and two bacons are better than one,

”

The Author had, this year, received two hares fromhis friend,andwrote these verses in answer to the receipt of thelatter.

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13 8

Havingput our antagonist therefore to flight

I return to the hare here— odzooks, what a weight!

The last that you sent us was presently gone,But this, on myword, is a

’whopper 0’one.

Adzookus, whene’er we begin to see th

’end on

’t,

W e’ll remember, old Arnold, thy worthy descendant;

W ith knives, and with forks, and with spoons wethump her,

And then to the Ladies ofToft” in a bumper.

TO THE SAME,

IN ANSWER TO THE FOLLOWING LETTER

Dm a ou,- A Tmharewas used in former “M o un d

verses ; and I hope you still like hare as wellas do verses. Be thias it will, [ shallbe glad to hear in verse or prose that yoa c

'

e as vellu

I con iawish you to be [ growold , stir little from home, and landI am not able to put myself in your way asformerly.

P .S. K . G eorge and Mr. P itt are, it seems, at present the darliq sd'

the nation. I shallhereafter be surprised at nothing .

DEAR P eter, this te l ls you as soon as it could,That the bare which you sent us was tender and goodAnd we send you thanks for it.

— You as a Toft hareWas wont to produce a verse- copiedadhirf’W hich is true in the main ; but P hilosophers oftG ive efl

'

ects to wrong causes — it neither was ToftNor hare, that was really productive ofmetre,But (as here you may see by self

-evidence)—P z '

rxa.

The hare was no more than occasional itemThat ifverses

’

were willing one might as wel l write ’em ;

And Toft, tho’ within but a fewmille passus,1

W as as fit for the purpose as foreign P arnassus.Its good- natur

’d owner was proximate cause

Of the free-dowing rhyme and its modify’d pause,

The P hebus, at whose innuendo§the MuseHer assistance, jam nunc,¢ knows not howto refuse .

A provincial term for a fine,or a large one.

”

5 Nodding. 3 J ust now.

13 9

Stil l, it seems, “you like verse as you hope I like hare

Ay, for intercourse- sake, not the worth of the ware .

Shops would answer your taste with a much better line ;A nd shambles, with ful l as good provender, mine.

Nay if one should reflect upon cruelty’s source,

In the gentlemen butchers,— the HUNT and the COURSE,’Twere enough to prevent either pudding or jel lyFrom storing.

such carcass within a man’s be lly.

Still I think ofold Elwall invited to supAt your Chester abode, when a bare was cut up,How he gave me this answer concerning this prog,Dost thou ever eat hare Dost thou ever eat dog?

”

Don’t think that hereby one intends to degrade

The presentment, Sir P eter, which now you have made ;Iwould only suggest that the thankswhich I renderStand up on their feet not to bare, but hare- sender,

W hose ease you describe so exactly like mine,That it runneth almost in a paral lel lineYou grow old,

” —I grow older ; stir little from home,I, less ; and abroad

’

more unable to roam

Y ou lament that you cannot come l io a friend’s wayAsyou formerly could,

”- the same also I say.

Now, the case being common, how should it affect us,Seeing aliter non fit, avite, senectus

W ith gratitude first, as I take it—a truth

W hich is common, indeed, both to age and to youth;But ifyouth has neglected to fill up that page,My case,

— it belongs to executor age

To supply the defect, which, tho’negligent, stil l

W e suppose the said youth to have had in its wil l ;Old 1

'

senectus is ty’d then , for benefits lent us,

To pay the just debts of testator Juventus.§

W ith temperance next ; since if gratitude binds

For the sake ofpast youth our senescentert minds,They must in a body more subject to P hthisic,G uard against all excess and turn food into P hysic.

One sees how corpuscular eating and drinkingMake youth in its mentals so stout, and unthinking ;

Old man, age comes not on without these. t Age.

QYouthwho has wi lled them. 3 Inclining to old age.

140

e‘ge therefore, altho

’not so paunchful or pateful,

Ill be much better all, being sober and grateful.

Two helps without which the mere animal pow’r

In young or old blood grows insipid or sour.If the two ventilators of lite do not mix,Old age would, I find, be as cross as two sticks.Oh!grant me, ye pow

’re both ofverse and of prose,

To be thoughtful and thankful, choose how the worldgoes!Not,

— though the old man should become twice a child,To be peevish and fretful, but placid andmild.

Now as touching King G eorge and his pensioner P itt,Your two present darlings of national wit,And the strange alterations that seem, in your eyes,So great as if nothing henceforth could surpriseIf you have not yet seen men and matters so m yAs to bring you before to a niladmirari’ ”

In this changeable island, one need not be told

That you are but a youngster, but newly grown old.

W hat a pleasure to come, has our coming to age,To emancipate thought from so shifting a sage!

And to fix it on matters thatwill in all cases,Stand firm on their so lid, immoveable bases ;Real objects 3— your epitaph, e lse, on the bare

K ill’d November thirteenth

” is but one of a pair

W ith a poor hunted P eer’s DECOLLAT.1’ such a b y

W hat more than the puss has the peerage, I pray,

It would else he too true what comes into my mind,How our oldmaster Bentley divided mankindHe was talking ofshort- hand, and how an erroneous

NatareӤthe blockheads had made Suetonius

To write for - the world, he then said,W as made up of two sorts,

—worriers, worried.

Dick, he toldme, should learn, and, amidst the world’s hurry,As the potenter choice, be a lawyer and worry.

”

You see now, old friend, how intentional aimSets out to comply W ith your copyhold claim;How age would run on, if the Muse did not fixThe Rhythmus ofdactyls to ninety and six ;

0 wonder at nothing. t Let him be beheaded.

To swim. To write.

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142

W hile he went on and learnedly perplex’d

The genuine mean ing of his chosen text,

I cast my eyes above him, and explor’d

The dove- like form upon the sounding-board.

That bird, thought I, was put there as a sign

W hat kind ofSpirit guides a good divine,Such as at first taught preachers to impart

The pure and simple gospel to the heart ;

A perfect, plain, inte lligible rule,W ithout the dark distinctions of the school,That, with a nice, sophistical disguise,Hide the clear precepts from the people

’

s eyes.

W hatever doctrine in one age was trueMust needs be so in all succeeding too ;Tho’ circumstance may change, its inward aimThro’

ev’

ry outward state is stil l the same.

No thinking Christian can be pleae’

d to hear

Men, who pretend to make the scriptures clear,W ith low remarks upon the letters play,And take the spirit of it quite away.

Be time, or place, or person, or what will,Urg

’d in support ofsuch awretched skil l,It allamounts but to a vain pretence

That robs the G ospe l of its realsense,

Taught by the Saviour and by holy men ;’Tis now the very same that it was then ;Not to be alter

’d by unhallow

’d pains ;

The world may vary, but the truth remains.

Its consecrated phrases one would thinkThat priests and pulpits were notmade to sink;P rofaner wits can do it that disgrace,W hat need oi non 0 1mm in the case?

143

How, in the Church by such a shape, express’

d

Fulness of brain and emptiness of breast?

Of heads so fatten’d and of hearts so starv’d

A difi’rent emblem should, methinks, be carv

’d,The Owl ofAthens, and not Sion’

s Dove,

The bird of learning, n6t the bird of love.

REMARKS

On D r. Brown’s ESTIMATE,

” written in the Character

of aLady.

“e shocking death ofDr. Brown, who committed suicide, would have disarmed our author’s criticism of its asperity, had the probability of suchan event, or a propensity towards it

,been anticipated by him. But it

waswritten long before that distressing catastrophe took place, andwhilethe heroof it was in the zenith ofpopularity which hehad acquired by the

publication of thefirst part of his Estimate.

” Thefollowing account,by M . de Voltaire, of i ts animating tendency is very creditable to D r.

Bro,s talents, and is inserted as an antidote towhatever may be con

siders too virulent in the assumed Lady’s strictures When Marshal

Richelieu, in 1756, laid seige to P ort Mahon , the capital ofMinorca,the British sent out Admiral Byng with a strong navalforce, to drivetheFrenchfleet of the island and raisethe siege. At this time thereap

peared a book entitled AN ESTIMATE or run M ANNERS on THE

Trus s ; ofwhich no less thanfive editions were printed of in Londonin the space of three months . In this treatise the author proves that

the English nation was entirely degenerated- that

‘

it was near itsruin - that its inhabitants were no longer so robust and hardy as in

“former times -and that its soldiers had lost their courage. Thi s workroused the sensibilityof the English nation,and produced thefollowingconsequences

—They attacked,almost at one and the same time, allthesea coasts ofFrance, and herpossessions in Asia,Africahand America.

”

THE book appears to my perusing sight

So rambling, scambling, florid, and polite,That, tho

’it manly skill may trace the c lue,

A simplefemale knows notwhat to do,W here to begin remark, or where to close,Lost in a thousand— beauties, I suppose.

One specious proof of such a coalitionOfnum’

rous beauties is— a fifth edition,As I have, reading authors, just now foundIn the Whitehall P rice three and

‘sixpence, bound.

”

144

Many a goodbook, but less ofprint concise,Less clean ofmargin, se lls for half the price .

80 that the nation grows in books,’tis plain,

Luxurious. elfenuuate, and

That 18 , thepurchase rsg— or. if I durst.

I would have said the writers of them fird ;

And the luxuri ant t'

ramer ol this plan

First of the first, should be the leading man.

Somewhere before the middle of the book,

It seems, the author (whom I really took

But tor a P OLI'

t'

lt lAN) was, in line ,To my SUIprise . a P ROTESTANT D t NE ;

A P rotest ant D ivme, in whose hig h [lig ht

The question c apital is, who shall fight”?

Not who shall pay — as some Divines have plann’d,

From what we hear, the cap i taldemand

Both needless questions henD ivines arose

W ho neither sued their friends, nor tought their foes.

Now, what more vain, efl'

eminate, luxurious"

Than parson’s talk, so capital ly

” furious?

Truly, the works ofdistad'

and ofneedleAre worthwhole volumes of courageous tweedle,W ith the sum total Britons !allbe free ;Take the BROWN musket up and follow me ;Let us be strong, be hardy, sturdy, rough,Til l we are allbeatify

’

d in DUFF .

”

W ith manners just the same. as we are told,Men are efl

’

eminate andwomen bold.§

W e may with truth and candour conclude that the rulin character

of the present times is that oi a vain, luxurious and selfish e eminacy.

Bnown ’s Es'rm u 'a, Sec . 6 .

t It hath been urged, indeed, as a proof that the natural spiri t ofde

fence is not yet extinguished, thatwe raised such large sums during the

rebellion , and still con tinue such plentiful supplies for the support ofour fleets and armies. This is weak reason ing ; for will not cowardiceat least, as soon as courage, part with a shilling, or a pound to avoiddanger

-Thc capital uestion therefore still remains, not who shall

pay,” but “who shall ght?

”- Sec 6 .

The sexes have now little apparen t distinction beyond that of person and dress. Their peculiar and characteristic manners are confound

ed and lost, the one sex having advanced into boldness, as the other he!

sunk into efl‘

eminacy.-

§ec. 5.

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146

REM ARKS

On a P amphlet en titled, Epistles to the G reat from Aristippus inReti rement.

IN A LETTER TO DR . S

epistleswere published in theyear 1757 . The species of poetry,”any:

the editor, in which they are written has been used with great successamong the Freewh by Chapelle, Chaulieu, La Farre, G rm et

, Mada

D ahoulieres, and others .

” To quote from them all the crpm sim

alluded to in thefollowing verses,would but swell out the notes to as as

necessary length. It is thought sufi cient, therefore, to distinguish m it

music” by Italic characters.

DOCTOR, this new poetic speciesSemel" may do, but never decies ;1

‘

For a Chapelle , or a Chaulieu,The new devis’d conceit may do ;In rambling rhymes La Farre,

- and G rasset,And easy diction may eXpress it;Or Madam

’s Muse

,Deshoulieres,

Improve it farther still than theirsBut, in the name ofall the Nine,W ill an epistolary lineIn English verse and English sense

Admit, to give them both offence,

Of this newfangled melodee?Indeed itwon’

t; ifG al lic phraseCan bear with such enervate laysNor pleasure, nor pain

-

pinion’d hours

Can ever suffer them in ours ;

Nor, ivy- crown ’

d, endure a theme

Silver’d with moonshine’s maiden gleamNot tho

’so garlanded andflow

’ry,

So soft, so sweet, soMyrtte-how’ry,

80 balmy,'

palmy—and so on

As is the theme here writ upon ;W rit in a species that, if taking,P ortends sad future verse-unmaking

t ’l‘

en times.

147

BROWN’S Estimate of times and manners,

That paints efl'

eminacy’s banners,

Has not a proof In its detailMore plain than this, if this prevaForbid it, sense!forbid it, rhyme !

W hether familiar or sublime,W hether ye guide the poet

’s hand

To easy diction or to grand;Forbid the G al lic namby

-

pamhyHere to repeat its crazy cromby.

One instance of such special stuff,To see the way on

’t, is enough;

Excus’d for once —ifAristippus

Has any more within his cippusfi

Let him suppress,— or sing

’em he

W ith gentle Muse, sweet Enterpee ;Free to salute her while they chirp,For easier rhyming

— sweet Euterp.

It is allow’d that verse, to please,

Shouldmove alongwith perfect ease ;But this coxcombically minglingOf rhymes unrhyming

, interjingling,For numbers genuine y British,Is quite too finicaland skittish

But for the masculiner belles,And the polite Me

’moiselles,

‘

W hom Dryads , Naiads, Nymphs, and Fem ,

Meade, woods, and graves , and lakes, and law ,

And loves, and doves,—and fifty more

Suchjaded terms, besprinkled o’er

W ith compound epithets uncouth,P rompt to pronounce them verse, forsooth!

Verse let them be ;— tho’ I suppose,Some verse as well might have been prose,That England

'

s common courtesyP olitely calls good P oetry.

For if the P oetry be good,Accent at least is understood.

Number ofsyllables aloneW ithout the proper stress of tone,W ill make our metre flat and bare

As Hebrew verse ofB ishop Hare.

Stocks for the feet, a jail. t Misses.

Add, that regard to Rhyme is gone,And verse and prose will be all one,

Or,- what is worse,— create a pother

By species neither one nor t’other ;

A case, which there is room to fear

From dupes ofAristippus here.

The. fancied sage in feign’d retreat

Laughs at the fo llies of the great,W ithwit, invention, fancy, humour,Enough to gain the thing a rumour.

But if he writes, resolv’d to shine

In unconfin’

d and motley line,Let him P indaric it away,And quit the lazy- labour’d lay,Leave to La Farre and to La France

The warbling, soothing nonchalance.

’

W hen will our bards unlearu at lastThe puny style and the bombast?

Nor let the pitiful extremes

Disgrace the verse ofEnglish themes ;Matter no more in manner pain t

Foppish, affected, queer, and quaint;Nor bounce above P arnassian ground,To drop the sense and catch the sound;Except in writing for the stage,W here sound is best for buskin

’d rage ;Except in Operas, where sense

Is but superfluous expense?

Be then the bards of sounding pitch

C onsign’d to G arrick and to R1ch,

To Tweedledums and Tweedledees,The singy

- songing Euterpees .

s Supineness.

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150

Ce tc. But here’s no plot! or none that’s understood.

AUTHOR. There’s a rebellion, tho

’

; and that’s as good.

CRl'rtc. No spirit, nor genius in’t

AUTHOR. W hy, didn’t here

A srmlr and a osmus both appear?

Catrlc. P oh,’ ’tis all stuffand nonsense

Anrnoa. Lack-spay!W hy that

’s the very essence ofa play.

Your old house, new house, opera, and’Tis NONSENSE, Critic, that supports them all;As you yourselves ingeniously have shewn,W hilst on their nonsense you have built your own .

CRl'rlc. Here wantsAU'

rHOR. W ants what?—W hy, now, for allyourcanting,

W hat one ingredient of a play is wanting?Music, love, war, death, madness without sham,

Done to the life -by persons of the Dram ;Scenes andmachines descending, and arising,Thunder and lightning - ev

’ry thing surprising!

Ce lc. P lay, farce, or op’ra is

’t?

AUTHOR. No matter whether;’Tis a REHEARSAL of them all together.

But come, Sir, come ! troop oh'

, old blundermonger!And interrupt the epilogue no longer.

(Author drives the Critic of the stage.)Hurlo,

'

proceed

HURLO. Troth!he says true enough ;The stage has given rise to wretched stuff.

Critic or player, a Dennis or a C ibber,V ie onlywhich shal l make it go down glibber.

A thousand murd’rous ways they cast about

To stifle it, but, murder like,’twil l out.

Our author fairly, without so much fuss,Shews it in puris naturalibus,

“

P ursues the point he oud its highest height,Then bids his men 0 fire and ladies brightMark how it looks, when it is out ofs

'

ht.

So true a stage, so fair 11 play for laug ter

There neverwas before, nor ever will come after.

Never ; no, never! notwhile vital breathDefends ye from that long lio

’d mortal—Death.

In its pure naturalcondition.

15 1

Death —Something hangs on my prophetic tongue ;I’llgive it utt

’rance, be it right or wrong ;

Handel himself shall yield to Kurlo-Thrumbo,And Bononcini too shallcry,That’s if the ladies condescend to smile,Their looks make sense or nonsense in our isle.

REMARKS

Dr. M iddleton ’s examination of the Lord Bishop of London’

s

D iscourses concerning the use and intent of P rophecy.

”

t er 1 . 19 . We have also a more sudowell that ye take heed, as unto auntil the day down, and the day star arise in your hearts.

THIS passage, Sir, which has engag’d of late

So many writers in such high debate,About the nature

.

ofprophetic light,Has not, I think, been understood arightNor does the critic Middleton’

s new tract

Relate the meaning fairly, or the fact.

P eter, youknow, Sir, by his own account,W as with our Saviour in the holy mount,W here he and two disciples more beheldThe Suscnrm n , or glory that excell

’d;Saw that Divine appearance of our LordW hich three of the Evangelists record ;His face a sun, and light his whole array,P rophetic glimpse of that eternal day,W herein the glance ofSun and Moon suppress

’d.

G od shall Himself enlighten all the blest ;Shall from his temple, from the sacred shrine

Shine forth ofhuman Majesty Divine.

To this grand visionwhich the chosen three

W ere call’d, before they tasted death, to see,

W as added proof to the astonish’d ear

That made presential Deity appear,

I bend, or submit.

152

And by a voice from G od the Father’s throne

His “ell- be loved Son was then made known .

New search ofmysteries the whole abyu ,

W hat more intire conviction , Sir, than this?

Of human reason search the wide pretence,W hat more miraculous and plain .to sense?

But reason oft interprets past event

J ust as the human heart and willare bent.The Doctor, whom his own productions call

No hearty friend to miracles at all,

Disguises this to bring his point about,As ifboth sight and hearing left a doubt,Left some perplexity on P eter

’s mind,

Quite against all that he himse lf defin’d.

'This wondrous apparition , S ir, might leave

Something too hard precisely to conceive ;And circumstances ra ise within his soul

Suspense about the nature of the whole.

W hat kind of saunt’ring spirit could suggestSuch groundless cavi l to a Christian breast?

W hat Christian pried at least would choose to paintHis Saviour

’s glory in a light so faint?

But let this suit the pries thood, ifyouwill;P ray. hat foundation for his critic skil l

,

For P eter'

s doubting what he saw and heard,For scruples first imagin

’d, then inferr

’d?

The reason here assign’d isfear and dread,

So great that P eter knew not what he said ;He, and his partners in the vision too,F ell on theirfaces at its awfi l view,Nor durst look up, till J esus at the last

Came to and rais’d them when ’

twas overpast.

This wonderfulapparition and heavenly voice,m ight be “ com“.

n ied with such c ircumstances, as would naturally leave some doubt andperplex ity on the m ind concern ing the prec isemannerand nature of thewhole transact ion . For P eter

, as we read, was in such a fl ight andamazement atwhat he sawand heard

, that he knew not what he saidAnd both he and the other two Apostles then with him, J ames and J ohnwere so greatly terrified that they fellupon their faces to the ground:and durst not so much as look up,

”till J esm,when the vision was over,

came to raise and encourage them .

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154

Read.

how Ezekiel too with like surprise,W hen Heav

’n was open

’d to his world

’

ring eyes,Fell on his face at the same glorious sight,Till by G od

’s Spirit made to stand upright.

Thus Danie l prostrate - thus the great Divine

W ho saw th"Apocalyptic scenes g

— ih fine,Thus human strength alone could never stand

W hen G od appear’d, unaided by His hand.

To urge a reason , then , from fear, to doubt

The glorious fact that could not be without,Only befits a feeble, faithless mind,To heav

’nly voice and vision deafandblind.

The learned pre late, against whose discourse

This gentleman has alm’

d his present force,Thought i t absurd in any one to make

St. P eter, for his own conviction’s sake,

Say that old prophecies should be preferr’d

To G od’s immediate voice which he had heard.

Such a comparison , he thought, became

No sober man, much less the Saint, to frame,C oncluding it 1mpossnble from hence

That thls could ever be St. P eter’s sense.

Tho’ ’tis not onlypossible, it seems,

But weak moreover, as the Doctor deems,To doubt tt,

— a comparison so j ustP eter not only might have made but must

—J ”

And then he cites Rabbinical remarksToprove the paradox from learned clerks ;Not that he minds what any of them writes,But most despises whom he chiefly cites.

L ightfoot’s authority,

—to instance one,

Is first and last and most insisted on ;

The soundness ofwhosefaith, he interjects,

Let us now return to the B ishop’s discourses, in which he goes on

to demonstrate the inconsisten cy of the author’s (Collins) exposition,

by telling us, that itmakes P eter to say, in his own person , that thedark prophecies of the Old Testament were a surer and more certain

evidence to himself than the immediate vo ice of G od, which he had

heard with his own cars. And is it possible,”adds he

, that St

P eter, or any man in his wits,could make such a com arison Tt

which question, so smartly and confidently put, I readi y answer that1it is not only possible that St. P etermight make such a comparison,bn

‘

even weak to imagine that he could make any other. P age 47 .

And erudition‘nobody suspects .

*

Or if the reader wants a fulldisplayOf these endowments,— Lightfoot shews the way

‘

How by assuming liberty to'

take

F or granted straight what premises we make,Whatever notions or op inions tend

To favour tha t which we would recommend,77 e may demonstrate by such arts as these

A doctrine true, D ivine, or what we pleases!"

This , Sir, is his description of sound faith;L et us now see what argument it hath.

This trusty evidence, among the rest,Is call’d to prove a voice from Heav

’n a jest,

The J ews’ Bath Kol, a cunning acted part,A fable, fantasy, or magic act,

V oice of the Devil, or ofDev’lish e lves

To cheat the people and promote themselves.

And hence th’Apostle, —is the inf

’rence drawn

That claims the special notice of the lawn ,

That comes to clear this famous prelate’s sight,

W ith reason good, preferr’d prophetic light.

So introduce a Hebrew, foreign term,

Take all for true that quoted lines affirm,

And then assume that the Apostle tooJ ust thought and argued as these critics do,

'

And we may prove from P eter s own designThat G od the Father

’s voice was not Divine.

D r. L ightfoot also, the soundness ofwhose faith and erudition is al

wed by all, speaks still more precisely to my present purpose, and

ya, that ifwe observe two things, first, that the J ewish nation, un

der the second temple, was given to mag ical arts beyond measure ;we may safely suspec t that those voices which they thought to be fromHeaven, and notedwith the name of BathKol

,were formed either by

the D evil in the air to deceive the people, orbyMagic ianswith devilishart to promote their own affairs . From which he draws this infe

nce, which I would recommend to the special consideration of this

minent prelate ; hence,”adds he, the Apostle P eter saith with good

reason that theword of prophecywas surer than a voice from heaven .

e 52.

t ow, by the same method of reason ing, and the liberty which his

ardsbip every where assumes, of supposing whatever premises he

ants, and taking every thing for gran ted which tends to confirm his

'

pothesis,we may rove any doc tr ne to be true,ord ivine, orwhatever

eplease tomake 0 it . Dr. Ligbtt‘

oot has shewn us them y.- P age

156

But should the P relate think itmereTo talk offable in St. P eter’s ease,W hose words exclude it, and expressly speak

Of heavenly truth; how frivolous andweak,In his more sober and sedate esteem,

Must allhis patchwork-erudition seem !

Howwill a Christian Bishop, too, conceive

Ofwhat the Doctor’s margins interweave

Touching that scripture where our Saviour pray’d,

And Heav’n the glorifying answer made?

“

W hile from his note, Sir, nothing can be learn’d

But casual thunder, or BathKol eoncern’d.

W ill he not ask, is it this author’s aim

Under his BathKol figments, to disclaimAllfaith in voices of a heav

’nly kind?

Is that the purpose of his doubting mind?

You see th’apostle is extremely clear,

That such a voice himse lf did real ly hear ;He also had such wondrous proofs beside,That voice .concurrent cannot be deny

’d.

And, when our Lord had been baptis’d, there came

A voice from Heav'

n in words the very same .

Here, in his answer’d prayer,

— tho’

, by mistake,Some said it thunder

’d,”some an Angel spatter

”

W e have his own authority Divine ;This voice, said he, camefor your sakes , not mine.

W ould not the Bishop rightly thus opposeP lain Scripture facts to learning

’s empty shows?

W hat signifies it, then, upon the whole,How poor blind J ews have talk

’d about Bath Kol?

W hat jarring critics of a later day,Or L ightfoot, here thrice ridicul

’d, may say?

Or Middleton himself(whose pious careFor giftless churches prompts him to compare

Thus when J esus, a little before his death, was addressing himselfto the Father in the m idst of his disc iples and the people of J erusalem,

and saying, Father, save mefrom this hour! Father, glorify thym e.”

There cm a voicefrom Heaven saying, I have both glorified it, and willglorify it again .

” Upon which the people that stood by, and heard it, saidthat it thundered ; others said that an angel spake to him. J ohnThat is, part of the company believed it to be nothing more than an accidentalcla of thunder ; while others took it to be the Bath =Kol, orthe voice 0 G od, or ofan angel, which was always accompanied withm en ' s - P 080we

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Freedom of thought exerted and ofwill,To elann the privilege ol

‘

yudp ng ill,

P rophe ts , Apostles . Mai t) rs cannot move ,

Nor holy C hui ch torougnout the world disprove .

But to rcturn ;—how does his first assault

O n miracles defend a second fault?

O r Rabbis, or D ivines,

Help L ighttoot’

s comment, or his own des igns?

L igli tfoot, without detracti ng from his skill ,W rote in this ins tance with a careless qui llSuch in i

’

i v mc , e lse , had lic\ ci‘ been annex (1;

He mus t have seen that the Api istle’s text

C ould no t, with reason e i ther good or great,C ompare the P rophets “ llll a dcv

'

iish cheat.

This learned writer, Sir, did not attend

To P eter’

s MEANING ,or. not apprehend

Or, if excuse may for his haste atone,

He did not well, perhaps, express HIS OWN.

Since by his present citer here you see

How quite forgetful learned men may be ;For after all the scraps he had amass

’d,

And this triumphant inference at last

The text, he says . had, in St. P eter’s views,

No rrj‘rence to himself, but to the J ews

Not i n his haste aware that what he said

Knock’d allthe B ,th Kolpedantry 0

’th

’ head,That what he thought his borrow

"

dpages on

His own gave up, as soon as he had done .

For if St. P eter’

s words do not implyWhat he himself was most persuaded by,But only shewwhat arguments werefitFor their attention , S ir, to whom he writ,

Yet St P eter’

s words, after all, as they are expounded by the free

thinking author above- men ti oned

,do not necessarily imply him to mean,

that prophecy was a sui erargumen t to himself then the v0 i ce fromHeaven , but to the J ewish converts i n general, who did not hear that voice,but rece ived i t only from the report ofothers. Itwas not his view in thisep istle to declare what sort ofaraumen ts was the most convinc ing to himself, but to propose such as were most worthy of the atten tion of those

to whom hewas writing.- l’age 53 . When St. P eter therefore says, WC

have a more sure word of prophecy,”the occcasion of his words

obliges us to in terpret them as spoken , notwith any particular reference

to himself, but to the general body of the J ewish converts.- P age 54.

159

The Bishop'

s reas’n ing which he strives to cloud,

Is not unanswer"

d only, but allow’d;

The very thing pretended to be shewn

Is,by his own confessmn, overthrown .

Do but observe the point in questi on , Sir,O n which the Doctor makes thi s learned sti r,

How he, who talks of its perpetual change“

By others, takes the liberty to range ;W hen a compari son was J udg

’

d absurd,P eter could make no other— was the word;Then, by a contradiction plai n and flat,P eter

’s compari son could not be that ;

And then again— supposing that it could ;

Thus he attempts to make the matter good.

Let P eter be himself assur’d, says he,

Asfully as’twas possible to

'

be,Of ev

’ry circumstance that pass

’d, he m ight

Have stillprcferr’d the old prophetic light.

This was a standing evidence, and layOpen to cool, delib

’

rate reason’s sway,

A firmer argument that brought alongConviction , S ir, more permanent and strongTo men of sober senses, and sedate,Than could the vision , which his words relatestSet the perplex

’d equivocation by

That’s here involv

’d, how easy the reply

To reasons void, ifwe distingui sh right

Betwixt a real and reported sight!

For be the proof that prophecies procure

More, to the J ews, comparatively sure,

As oft the text is commented upon

Thro’a mis take, (as willappear anon)

And thus the Apostle’

s sense, as it is expounded by the author

Collins\ is clear and con sistent, not liable to any exception, but whatows from that perplexi ty in which his L ordship has involved it, by his

use of equivocal terms and perpetual change of the point in question .

P ag e 62.

t Let P eter be as perfec tly assured, as we can suppose him to be, of

every c ircumstance which passed in the mount,he m ight still take pro

phecy, considered as a standing evidence, always lying open to the cool

and deliberate exami nation of reason,to be a fi rmer argumen

t on the'whole, and

'

to carry a more permanent convic tion with i t to the sober

senses ofmen than the vision with which be here compares it. P age 52.

160

Yet his conviction vacates the pretence

Of reason, argument, and sober sense ;

Because the prophets here to be compar’d,

As evidences ofwhat G od declar’d,Could but originally hear and see,

And be as fully satisfy’d as he.

The use ofreason has, I apprehend,W hen full assurance is attain’d, an end.

“th en we are certain that we see and hear,And ev

’ry circumstance is plain and clear,

W hat can examination teach or learn?By what criterion, Sir, shal l we discern,W hen reason comes to be so deadly cool,The sage del iberator from the fool?

C onceive St. P eter, if you can , entic’d

(Eye-witness ofthe majesty of Christ,Ofwhat the Father, in the mount, had done

By shewing forth the glory of the Son)To disbelieve his senses, and to pore

Some ancient, standing evidences o’er,

To see ifthat which, on the holy spot,He saw and heard, was seen and heard or not

W ould such a cool, de liberating planHave made him pass for a more sober man

If so, then M iddleton has hit the white ;Sherlock, if not, is thus far in the right,And Wel l may say that no man in his witsC ould be attack’d by such cold reas’ning fits.

But thus the frigid argument is brought

W hy P eter might, in ful l, persuaded thought,P refer predictions in the ancient lawTo what himselfmost surely heard and saw:

Ear after all thefull convincing scene

Which he had witness’d, howdid he demean?Withfaith infirm he shamefully deny

’d

His Master, seen so greatly glorify’d.

*

Yes, so he did, and gave a humbling stroke

To human confidence in reason’s cloak;

For, after all the conviction which he himself had received frwe know that h is fai thwas stillso infirm as tobetray him into a slitdenial ofhisMaster,whom hehad seen sowonderfully glorified, P a

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Lays the foundation of the Christian life ,As reason governs that of human strife .

And I appeal, Sir. setting grace asule,How oft is human reason human pi ide?

Human deS ire of victory or fame,

A Babel t0 \w" ring to procure a name?

A self assurance , an untutor’d boast?

That can but form intention , at the most;‘Vhich, tho

" directed right, must humblyD i rute ass istance to perform its task.

In this fail’d P eter ; and a servant maid

Made him, W ith all his bold resolves, alraid ;W ith allhis sure convictions, he began

To curse and swear, and did not know the

Till, for a lesson wondrously address’

d

To sink ful l deep i nto his humbled breast,The cock pronouii c

’

d by an awak‘

ii ing crowP eter the man, whom P eter did not know.

But how, Sir, did his coward speech betrayDoubt of his Maker

’s glorious display?

By what account in hist’

ry are we taught

That e’er it came i nto hi s frighted thought?

Or since’tis certain that he did deny,

W hat prophecy did he prefer thereby?’Tis then a cold absurdi ty to drawFrom P eter

’s weakness this pretendedflaw,

To hint delusion in the god- like sight,Because the man was put into a fright.

If from distrust ofevidence his fears,From whence his bitter, penitential tears?W hence was it that the Holy P ris

’ner shook

The soul of P eter with one gracious look?

No G LORY then to credit or distrust;And yet the Apostle

’s penitence was just,

And he a lively proof, upon the whole,That grace alone can fortify a soul.

’Tis urg

’d, that, on the other hand wefind,

lVithfaith confiri i i’d and with enliglrtei i

’

d mind

After the m ission (f the Holy G host,flhat argument which he appld the most

Was what he calls (for so the Doctor too

Takes here a vulgar error to be true)

163

This MORE SURE worm or P ROP HECY, the chiefOf all his moti ves to enforce beli ef;F l om whence he prou

’

d that J esus! was of old

Deserw’

d by all the prophets , and

P eter’s condition , S ir, is that of,all

W ho from the heart obey the Christian call .They by experience have the triple Sight

O i weakness, pen itence, and heav’n ly light;

W hi le o thers wrangle about outward show,

Nature , and grace, and m iracle they kno

Tho"not inspir

’d, like P eter and tli

’Eleven ,

N or struck. like walking P aul, by vo ice trom Heav’n,They meet. what others foolishly evade

,

The realmissmn oi celestialaid;Ofwhich, howe

’er the tokens are perceiv

’d

N o faithful soul can ever be bereav’d.

W hat does the share of it that P eter had

To all the Doctor’s forc

’

d refinements add?

M ight not the B ishop J ustly give him back

Some compliments bestow’d in hi s attack?

Such as, the nothing but an empty strain

Of Rhet’ric, insign ificant, and vain

The choosing not to see ofany theme

M ore than may suit his pro-adapted scheme

The passing over what he should confuteW i th mattersforeign to the main dispute—

“

rAnd such like flow’

f s upon his pages thrown ,That, fullas well, become the Doctor

’s own .

We know on the o ther hand that after our Lord’s ascenswn , when

his faith was moi e fully confirmed,and his understanding enlightened

by the m ission of the Holy G host, the chief argumen t which he appliedin all h is sermons

,to evince the truth of the gospel, was this

“more

sure word of prophecy, as he calls i t ; from which be demonstrated to

the J a mhow the charac ter, doc trine, and mission of J esus were foretold and described by the mouths of all their prophets. P age 56 .

t Yet all this pomp of words,this solemn appeal to the whole college

of the Apostles and Evangelists, is nothing else but'au empty strain of

rhetoric,without any argumen t or sign ificaucy in itwhatsoever. P age 60 .

One would be apt to suspect, that his Lordship nevér chooses to see

more of any subjec t than what may serve that parti cular hypothesis

which he comes prepared to support . P age 3 4 . It is this alone, whichthe nature of the subject required him to confute, and what he had nu

dertaken to confute, but, instead, be changes the question upon us,

and when we were expecting reasons, & c. P age 3 9.

164

For has the Bishop in his book deny’d

That prophecy was properly applied?No ; but that P eter did a thing so odd

As to prefer it to the voice ofG od.

This was the point requir’d to be explain

’d

In contradiction towhat he maintain’

d,

That which the Doctor underk to clearAnd make the pref

’rence of the Saint appear.

But while we look’dwhat reasons he would bring

For so incomprehensible a thing,

As common sense must reckon an appealFrom what th

’A lmighty shouldHimse lf reveal,

Shifting the circumstances, time, and place,In short, the question, to another case,

He tells us not of prophecy preferr’d

To voice from heav’nwhich he hadjust averr

’d,

But how the Saint apply’d in his discourse

P rophetic words to give the gospel force ;How P eter argued, from them, he relates,And proves full well what nobody debates.

How gravely, Sir, from fallacy so crude

He prompts the amused reader to concludeThat any man , especially a J ew

As P eter was, might think the pref’rence due!

And what himself had heard th’Alm ighty speak

M ight be esteem'

d comparatively weak.

”

Under this mill - stone oft the struggling pageBestirs itself, but cannot disengage.

At all events resolving to corgfute

(To use his Logic) or at least dispute,

Its author shews great spirit and great art,And wellperforms the contradicting part ; 1

’

But in his subsequent remarks we findHow lamely confutation limps behind.

Ful ly resolv’d, and singly, to maintain

A paradox so quite against the grain,

I might nowleave it to the reader to judge whether, in contradic

tion to what the B ishop maintains, a man in his wits, and especially aJ ew,

might not think prophecy a stronger argument in general, than a

voice from Heaven which he himselfhad heard. P age 56.

t This was the ground ofhis Lordship’s resolution to confute, or, at

all events, to contradict them (the free- thinker’s words) which lastparthe has performedwith great spirit ; but howfar he has succeeded in thefirst will be seen in the following remarks. P age 29 .

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166

Of language then was no confusion known,Each heard this ONE, and heard i t as i i rs OWN.

G od gave the word Himself, and all the good”

Shar’

d i n the proin i s’

d gilt, and understood,Tho

’then astonish

’d at the wondrous theme,

P repar’d to spread it to the world’s extreme .

O thers insensible of G race Divine ,

Mock’d at i ts influence and talk

’d ofwine,

Themselves intoxicated with that pride

By which the deaf in spirit stillderide.

’Twas then that P eter, standi ng up to shewTh’ absur

’

d reproach, gave all of them to knowThat what these mockers call

’

d a drunken fit

W as G od’s performance ofwhat J oel writ

Ofdays then dawni ng, when he would impartHis gospel gifts to ev

’

ry faithful heart,P our out 1118 Heav’

nly Spirit, and refresh

Not only single nations, but allflesh

All should partake thatwould, of richer grace,Now fully purchas d for the human race .

For this was what St. P eter, then inspir’d,

W ent on to shew, and argument requir’d.

The J ews allknew Messiah was to come,That this of all prediction gave the sum ;The question was, if it had been fullill

'

d

In J esus, whom their wicked hands had kill’d?

Now, to prove this th

’ Apostle first appliesThe miracles perform

’d before their eyes ;

G od’s approbation of him, he defines,

W as mani fest by W ONDERS and by SIG NS

Done in the midst of them — See here the groundP repar

’d, before he otfer

’d to expound,By arguments of such immediate force,So plain, so striking, that they must of courseMake, secondly, to such as should take heedThe word ofprophecy more sure indeed.

And then he shews how the prophetic wordW ith its exact accomplishment concurr

’d;

W hat David had prophetically said

J esus fultill’d in rising fromthe dead,

167

W hereofwe allare witnesses.—Here lay

The strength of all that any words could say ;W hen numbers present could the fact attest,Thousands of souls th" accomplish

‘

d word confess’

d,That this was He, the Lord, the Holy One

W hom David fix’d his heart and hopes upon,

And so describ’d as on ly could agree

‘V ith Him, whose flesh should no corruption see .

His resurr‘

ection , you perceive , it wasThat shew’

d the prophet’s word now come to pass,

That made th’Apostle

’s intimation clear,

He shed forth this which we now see and hear.

Again,— when P eter had restor

’tl the lame

To perfect soundness in our Saviour’s name,

He told the wond’ring throng that they had slainThe P rince of life whom G od had rais

’

d again ;W hereofwe are the witnesses, says he,

Then shews how all the prophecies agree,All have successively foretold these days,And mark

’d THE P ROP HETwhom the Lord should

So when the priests and Sadducees aggriev’

d

That such‘

increasing multitudes believ’d,

Ask’d by what pow

’

r he acted,— P eter said,By that of J esus risen from the dead,By Him this healing miracle is wrought;

Then quotes, the Stone which ye have set at nought,On this, rejected by the builders

’ hands,As a sure baSis, all salvation stands .

”

No priest was then so impotently skill’

d

As to suggest the passage unfulfill’d ;

All by the wondrous cure were overcome,

The living proofwas there and struck them dumb.

In vaina council then, aswell as now,

To silence miracles or disavow.

P eter and J ohn could neither be deterr’d,.

They needs must speakwhat they had seen and heard.

Nor charge, nor chains, nor meditated death

Could stop to G od’s commands th

’obedient breath ;

His final argument still P eter brings,W e are His witnesses ofall these things.

168

This you may read, Sir, was the real pathThat P eter trod in his confirmed faith,That allthe preachers of the G ospe l trodW hen they explain

’d the oracles of G od,

P reach’dwhat themselves without a learned strife,

Saw, heard, and handled of the WORD OF LIFE,”

W hen in their days so mightily it grewAnd wrought such proofs that prophecy Was true.

W hich tho’ it pointed to the future scene,

And oft prefigur’d the Messiah

’s reign,

Yet gave a light comparatively dim,

That ow’d its shining certainty to Him.

Thus, Sir,— to come directly to the text

\V ith which the critics are so much perplex’d,

W hereof the real mean ing, fairly trae’

d,Lays heaps ofpaper, printed on it, waste ;Had they adverted that St. P eter stillFrom what he saw upon the holy hil l ,Argues Apostles not to have surmis

’d,

Or follow’d fables cunningly devis

’d;But to have witness’d on ly what theyknewFrom their own sight and hearing to be true,And to have justly gathered from thence

The sure completion ofprophetic sense ;To which the J ews did rightly to attend

Till they themse lves should see it in the end.

Had they consider’d this, they would have foundOfall their wide perplexities the ground,Have soon perceiv

’d that, in the various brawl,A wrong translation was the cause ofall.

P eter makes no comparison betweenP rophetic word and what himself had seen,

As if he thought the vision in the mount

Less sure to him upon his own account.

This is a stretch by which the Doctor meant

Of public patience, sure, to try th’extent ,

But, to say the truth, I have never observed a stranger instance ofthe

public patience, and blind deference to the authori ty of a great name,than in the case of these very discourses ; which though in all parts

greatly exceptionable, and furn ishing matter of o'

ence in every age,have yet passed through many editions not only without reproo but

with some degree even of approbation . And i t was the experience,perhaps, ofwhat the worldwould hear,whichmade his Lordship resolve

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170

It only shews how our translation feil’d,Andmade the blunder that has since prevail

’d;Which, tho

’

, sufficiently provok’d to mend,

The learned stil l choose rather to defend.

A writer, -whose freethinking schemes inciteThe Bishop and the Doctor both to write,W ho had, it seems, in prophecies a ruleFirst to extol, and then to ridicule,Took, Sir, his stand on this corrq ited place,From whence he both might heighten andOne point the vulgar error gain

’d alone,W hile for the other he employ

’d his own.

Ingenious authors answer’d him space,

But got no triumph in thisknotty placeG ood sense oblig

’d themwhol ly to reject

St. P eter’s pref

’rence in his own respect ;

Collins himself th’ absurdity forbore ;That heightwas left for Middleton to soar.

But stil l some other they suppos’

d there was,Something that prophecy must needs surpass.

W hat itwas not they easily could see,Butwhat it was, scarce two ofthem agree.

Intent some kind ofpref’rence to provide

W hich also" plainly, and more sure” imply

’d,Allby an error, (whi ch the simple thoughtOf construing i

'ight had rectify’d) were caught.

In this mistake the Bishop too has shar’d

As. erting prophecy indeed eompar’d,“r

A nd by St. P eter to the voice prqferr’d

M ich he himself upon the mount hadheard.

Yet not, says he, as thatfreethinker meant ;The words relate but to that one event

W'

hich stands upon prophetical record,To wit, the glorious coming of our Lord.

His Lordship’s exposi tion of the text is this ; that the word of pr?

phecy is compared, indeed, and preferred here by St. P eter to the endence of that heavenly voice, whi ch he himself had heard in the mou

nt.

yet not,as that freethinking author imagines, on the account of its beinga surerproof or better argument for the general truth of the G ospel, but

only for the'

particular article of Christ’s coming agm

’

a in tot-y, to whichcase alone the com arison relates : for with regard to e truth of the

p a 1 P eter is so at from speaking ofprophecy in this place as the beatevi ence, that he manifestly speaks of i t as not the best. P age 29 .

171

But, one or all, to make a surer wordThen heav’

nly demonstration, is absurd,And glaring in the instance that he chose,Because that coming, as the context shews,W as of such majesty as P eter knewThat Christ was really cloth

’

dwith in his view;And therefore could not posé bly say WE

Have also something surer than To 88 8 ;W e

'

Were EYE-W ITNESSES ofwhat we preach,Yet think more certa in what the P rophets teach.

He contradicts,— iln splitting on the shelfOfour translation,—P eter and himself;The Saint, by such restriction ofhis ownAs was by him unthought of and unknown ;Himself, who sa

ys

’

that P eter in this place,Admitting G ospe truth to be the case,Far from preferring the prophetic test,Has manifestly said

’twas not the best.

And of allG ospel truths that you can name’

This glorious coming is the one great aim,

The sum and substance, with respect to man,Oi heav

’nly purpose since the world began.

Divine intention could no more have been

For Christ to safer, them for man to.

sin ;Tho’

, since that fatal accident hefel,Incarnate Love would save him from‘

a hell.W hereas his gloriousreign amongst mankindH

'

ht from their first existence he design’d

Add, since his sufi’ring, mving advent past,

What sense ofjustice can deny the last?His reigning glory,

” were the prophets dumb,Allthings in nature cry aloud wil l come.

”

Besides, what better does the text afl'

ord,

To any tolerable sense restor’d,

(Compare, prefer, or construe J iowyouwill)Then that Divine Appearance on the hill?That ascertaining in a heav

’nly light

Our Saviour’s glory by a present sight?

That record, which the Father thereupon

(Slave ofhis Son to P eter, J ames, and J ohn?

3 0 full ofproofs that, let what wil l be chief,

Doubt is too near akin to disbelief.

[72

The Doctor says,’tis surely no ofi

'

encer

To true religion, or to comm sense,

To think that, tracing circumstances a t,P erplex

’d Apostles might be lefi in doubt?

A serious reader, ye t, may think it is

From one plain circumstance, and it'

n di s

W hen they du cended from the sacred plan

After partalt of this heav’nlygrace,

Our Saviouru

dfiarg’d them that they should not tdl

To an man the'

vision that befel,Till e Himselfwas risen from the dead.

The vision, then, (ifHe knewwhat He said)W as true and real ; while, ifyou completeThe Doctor

’s hints ofpossfile deceit,

To give his rash reflections any force

Our Lord Himselfmust be deceiv’d, orworseSuch things would follow,

—but the horrid trainIs too offensive, even to explain.

In fine, these commentswhich the learnedm iteOn P eter

’s words are owing to mistake ;

Those which the Doctor has been pleas’

d to frameUpon his whole behaviour are the same.Nor is more learning needful in the caseThan to consult the untranslated lace :The phrase, you

’ l l see, asserts w at I assert,And leaves no critic room to controvert,G rotius, whose paraphrase the Doctor quotes,G ives it this 'meaning in his learned notes,”The word q rqphecyweall allomTo be of great authority, but nowWith us muchgm ter, who have seen ih’ an dSo aptly cm eqiond

'

with its intents!"

This paves the way to a becoming sense,

And overthrows our author’s vain pretenVain art and pains employ

’d upon the theme,To dress up an imaginary scheme,

It is no offence surely, either to reason or religion, to imagiqthis wanderfulapparition,are. before quoted in page 152. P age

t And G rotins paraphrases the samewords,as if theA ostle Iram m

q’gfpmmwm m m flfiwm .

greater, cr ave seen m q flym eaning tkc ua eid . P age”.

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174

Singly and independently apply’d;

And that thefirst, from whom its preachers drawTheir proo of Christ, is Moses in the law.

’

Both whio St. P eter’s evidence again

Shews to be slips ofhis too hasty pen ;For when th

’Apostle at the temple gate

Restor’d the cripple to a perfect state,

And took occasion from the healed latheTo preach the G ospel in our Saviour

’s name,

Thus he bespake the people that stood byG od by the mouth,

”—{ observe the sacred tie)Of allhis prophets hath foreshewn His SonJ esus, by whom this miracle is done.

”

W hich of them si ngly then did P eter cite?

W hat independency where allunite,W here all predicted as one Spirit bid

That Christ should suffer as he really did

And enter into glory —for, that nextThe preacher speaks to, in the fol lowing text;W here in his exhortation to repent,J esus,

” he te lls them, shall again be sent ;

Heav‘ns must receive mankind

’s appointed head.

Till time hath done whatever G od hath said,By allHis prOphets since the world began :

”

For so the sense, without curtailing, ran,Ofwhich the Doctor, quoting but a part,Has yet dissolv

’d the charm ofallhis art,Since all the prophets

—let theworld beginW ith Moses, if he wil l—are taken in ;And, join

’d together, must, whate

’er he thinks,

P roduce a chain, however few the links.

Tis true he afterwards begins to quote,And first the P rophet ofwhom Moses wrote ;Add-ing, that allwho . in succession came

Had likewise spoken of the very same

The same” —see how prophetic words conspire

G od’s Own, predicted to the J ewish Sire,

And in thy seed,”so P eter

’s words attest,

Shall all the kindreds of the earthbe blest.”

P roofs of our Saviour Christ you see him draw

From in , from after, from before the law.

See duotatton,- P age 175.

175

W hat can be said in answer, Sir, to this?

The fact is plain, tho’ P eter j udg

'

d amiss ;

For, such defect (he scruples not to own)

Colli ns against th’ Evangelist has sheum

The very G ospel; have some proofs assign

’d

Of loose, precarious , and uncertain kind.

”

This unbeliever, —in the shocki ng terms,

In which his cause a C lergyman contirms,

Has arguments unanswerably strongToprove their manner of applying wrongAltho

’

, whatever di ties lie

Against the way to rein t hey-shall appI/y,

It is the best, which, of all other ways,The case afords -so runs his rev

’

rend phrase.

So Deist and Divine, but both in vain,

Seek to unfasten the prophetic chain.

Should the NewTestament be treated so

By one whose characterwe did not know,

M ight not the language miss its aim’d effect,

And rather tempt the reader to suspect

That some presumptuous mocker and self-wil l’d

Had Enoch’s, J nde’s, and P eter

’s words fulfill’d?

To clear a tortur’d passage from abuse

This good effect may possibly produce,That when a writer of the modern mode

Shall cast reflections on the Sacred Code,Men wil l not, merely upon sudden trust

In bold assertions, take them to be just ;Since itmay be thathe has on ly madeOfgreat mistakes a critical parade ;Has only spoken evil of those things,

From these two observations it follows, that, whatever difi culties

m y be clmrged to the particulara pplications of prophecies which arefound in the NewTestarpent, yet, on the whole, that way of ap lyi ngthem must be esteemed by Chri stians as the best which the case agurda;and that the authori ty of the G ospel,as far as it is grounded on prophecy,rests on those single and independent predictions, which are deliveredoccastomlly here and there in the law and the prophets. It must he

confessed,however, that the author, against whom the Bishop’s d iscour

ses are levelled,has alleged several strong and even unanswerable ob

’

ec

tipnsto some of them,.

which are c ited b the Evangelists in proo themission ot J esus, as being of too loose an precarious a nature to buildany solidargument upon. P age 151

Ofwhich he does not really know the springs ;Has met with matters high above his ranch,And, scormng to he taught, presum

’d to teach,

Raising about them an affected cryThat ends in nothing but a W ho but 1?

Bare prophecy, the Doctor has profess’d,"

Adm i ts completion onlyfor its testTh

’eventforetold by it must also be

t at human prudence never couldforesee,Nor human pow

’r produce ; or else no sign

Could thence appear of Agency Divine.

P rophecy then, as his descriptions own,Can be made sure by miracles alone ;It is, what he himself is pleas

’d to call,W hile unfulfill’d, no evidence at all.How is it then, in his repeated term,

Of standing evidence more sure and firm?How is this consonant to standing still,As none at all, till miracles fulfil

“

?

If it has none tillthey are overpast,Is not the evidence from them at last?From them prophetic word, before obscure,Becomes an evndence conlirm

’

d and sure

Its truth is first demonstrated, and then

Reflects llS l ight on miracles again.

A hungry question, therefore, to inquire,Of two great proofs that actually conspire

W hich is the best — when with united lightThey both produce an evidence so bright.

But thefleet/tinkerwith a crafty view,

(Ifwhat his learn’d assistant says he true)

'

l'

“’hereas a bare prophecy, delivered as the proof of a D ivine cha

rueter in any person or doctri ne, is incapable of any persuasive force or

of giving any sort of conviction un til i t be accomplished ; the completion

of it being the sole test by which its verac it can be determined. The

even t likewise foretold by it must be of a ind which neither humanprudence could foresee, nor human power produce ; for otherwise itcould not give any assurance of a D ivine in terposition . P age 40 .

t As far as these words go there is certainly nothing in them butwhata sincere advocate of the G ospelmight freely allowand J oin issuetupou;but they come from an enemy, who had a crafty view i n extolli the

credit of pro hecy, in order to depress it afterwards the more ct!

ally. And t i s was the ground of his Lordship's resolution to confine;

or, at allevents, to contradict them, Arc. P age 29.

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178

Had any other author, less polite,W ith vulgar phrase attempted thus to write,And thus begun so fine a scheme to spin,

m mof this world had broken in ,Ruddy unravelt

’d allhisfine- spun scheme,

*

And sent him forth to seek another theme.

How suited this to any good design

That should engage a Christian, a Divine?

But what are names, if not a single one

Beworth regardfor sixteen ages gone?

I to inquire what any of them say,

e, as he thinks, but wasting time awayH'

Himse lf excepted in the modest creed,Unless he writes for nobody to read.

’

Sure ofalltreach’rous

'guides the greatest cheat

Is that ofwild unchristian self- conceit :P ossess

’d by this domestic, inbred pride,The wise free- thinkers scorn the name ofguide .

Their own sufficiency with eyes their own

C learly beheld, they trust to that alone ;Resolv

’

d no other maitims to imbibe

Than what rams liai son and res in sans: prescribe

That is, THEMSELVES— for what a man cal ls msIn such a case is really.what HE 18

Choose how refin’d an egotist may be

1118 reason,'

udgment, mind, and sense is BE.

In such con nement ifhe sits enthrall’d,

No matter by what title he is call’d,

B lind as a Sadducee to heav’nly light,He willbelieve ms OWN CONCEP TlONS right;No P ROP HECY to him can seem more sure,

Nor m imosa ATTESTED work his cure.

THAT of conversion from his own darkmindMust first convince him that he once was blind;

But his Lordship being apprehensive that the reasoners of thisworld

gli“t

in upon him, and rudely unravelhis fine- spun schema - m

e 06 .

t I thought it an idle curiosity and waste of time to inquire what anymodern D ivine had preached or written about it (viz. the nature ofpro

phecy) because the whole that can be known authentically, coneerniuts relation to Christianity,must be learned from those who first lanChristianity and were instructed by the Author of it on what oundation it reste and how far the argument of prophecy was useful to itspropagation and support. P age 3 .

179

Then may he see with salutary griefThe dire effects ofwretched unbelief;Looser, and yet more loose from sacred ties,To what strange heights a self- taught Sophist flies.

Friendship to Doctor Middleton sincere

Must, if exerted, W i sh ham to torbear

A kind ofwriting on the Christian cause,

That galne him no desirable applause,That. whether meant or not. m y unawaresInvolve a reader in free- thinking snares ;

Involve himself.— If frequent the relapse,A TEACHER or D ivm i rv, perhaps,

May run the risk 01 being quite bereft,Of having nothing but the HABIT left.

May that, which teaches rightly to divideThe word of truth, be his petition

’

d’

guide !

Or, if resolv’d at present to pursue,

At future leisure, a mistaken c lue,May future leisure— nu uncertain date

Ifgranted, find him in a better state!

FOUR EP ISTLES

To the Rev. Mr. Lcdcaster, late Vicar of Bowden,

on THE

M IRAC L E AT THE F EAST O F P ENTECO ST.

here repeats, and endeavours to supporta sentiment which is mentioned by him, P age 165, 166 . He thinks, v preasonsfor maintaining , that the ex traordinary cf usion ofthe

G

Z oly Spiriton the day of?P entecost, in the g ift of tongues, did not consist in thecommunication to the Apostles of a miraculous power to utter dU

‘

erent

languages but in bestowing on P arthians, Medea,Eternites, and others,a capacityfor understanding that one tongue used on the colann occasion,which was accompanied with such an anointing of the Holy One, thatitmaywithgreat proprietyreceive theappellat ion oftheuniversallongamQf spi ritual Canaanites on that day. The rat int imation which he hadofit was from J acob Behmens

’ writings, which he was an enthusiastic

OUR folks gone a visiting, Reverend Sir,Having left me at home here, less able to stir,

I am thinking on matters that lovingly pass’d

W here the squire of the house and I visited last,

180

At the V icar'

s of Bowden, old friend ofus two,And a lover of learning, fair, honest, and true,Especially such as shall make to appear

Any passage ofScripture more easy and clear .

The Scripture was writ and is oft understoodBy persons unlearned, y

et pious and good,\Vho have much better elps than mere learning can yieldW hich may yet be ofuse in its own proper field,If it be but to mend its own faults in a brother,And correct in one man the mistakes of another,Or to combat our scruples and fix a true thought

W hen the head shall confirmwhat the heart has been taugh

One thing, I remember, that fel l in our wayW as the speaking in tongues on the P entecost day;W hich our friend the Divine had conceiv

’d in a light,That, however so thought, does not seem to be right.

Allthe comments,’tis true, with which one has met

Concur with his notions about it ; —but yetThe mistake. is so plain that I wish by some means

To obtain his review of those wonderfulscenes.

It is not my thought ; for I first was appriz’d

Of the thing by a J ACOB, too greatly despis’d

Dipping into whose writings, which little I knew,

Some expression like this was presented to view,

Ali languages spoken by P ETER in one

A truth, which the moment I enter’d upon,

All the force ofsimplicity, fitness, and fact

Extorted assent that I could not retract.

If the honest old V icar, our visited friend,To St. Luke’s own accountwill be pleas

’d to attend,

I cannot but think that the current conceit

W il l yield to solution so clear and completeOfa number ofdifficult points, that ariseU on viewing the text with unprejudic

’d eyes ;I SP EAKERS were more than Apostles, and SP OKEN

But to one in fifteen was a sensible token .

For the names to that number, if rightly I countBy a Bagul Bible, of nations amount,W ho allunderstoodwhat a P eter or J ohn,Orwhoever he will, was discoursing upon,

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182

St. P eter, St. J ohn are soon mention’d again,

And describ'

d as unlearned and ignorant men.

But enough- or too much — for, the abortus of title

G ives a hint to set bounds to th’ extension ofrhyme :Our friend will acknowledge, tho

’ hasty the letter,This question

’s so lution, or give us a better.

So I shall not here touch upon Hebrew and G reek,W here a Rabbi so able, ifminded to seek,May observe other points in which learning, thatmakesMany things clear enough, has occasion

’d mintak

W hether this be one instance I only desireThat a suitable leisure may prompt to inquire ;For to me it appears,

- that the miracle doneW as allby one language, - as clear as the sun.

Baguley, August 12th 1756

c m

EP ISTLE SECOND.

MANY thanks have been order’d this day to attend.The receipt ofyour letter, dear Vicar and friend ;W hich at first being left to your leisure to frame,W as sure to be welcome whenever it came.

The point, which the Muse hada mind to proposeIn her free- spoken rhymes, you have handled in prose;All fair on both sides. because, so it or sing,In this affair truth is the principal ing.

But I cannot but marve l thatmuch better sightThan my own should not see so meridian a lightAs that of the speaking, at P entecost time,By the Spirit of G od. to the good of each clime;In one single tongue b that Spirit inspir

’d,

W hose assistance did a Ithat could then be requir’d;

W hose power, it is certain, could make itself knownBy a number of tongues, or by one tongue alone .

So needless the many, so simple the one,That I wonder what judgment can hesitate on,

Or a learned inquiry that finds, ifit seek,That the tongue might be one in construction ofG reek;

183

W hich, as comma takes place, (as old G r ory said,Nazianzen I think) either way may be N 3 ,

They speak in our tongues,”or

, as crystaline clearfact is to my understanding, we hear.

”

I sent you some reasons from Baguley, whyThe tongue was but one, which you choose to pass by,And to comment St. Luke in a many

- tongu’d way

That darkens the light which I took to be day.

And day it is still ; for, account that you give

8 0 plain and so obvious is water in sieve ;W hich seems to be something at first- looking view,

But by holes plain and obvious it quickly runs through.

The tongues which appear’d, and which sat upon each,

All cloven andfiery, you argue ,’ may teach,

A nd by notice symbolicalmake it discern’d,

That they spoke in such tongues as they never had learn’d.

Need I tell a Hebraean that tongue is the same

In relation to fire as the English word flame?W hich appears to be cloven, and proof, that is spun

From the tongues or the flames, has too much of the pun.

When you ask, P ray, what reason can else be assign’d

I ask you, P ray, what reason for winda fair question ; but tongue being flame

May have answer’d already your questioning

I think that an air, that a flame from above

Both is and betokens the life and the love,W hich if Christians were blest with, one lan uage would do,And their whole body hll

’d with, there coul not be two.

But let them be symbols, (the tongues) ifyouwill,Of the grace which the Spirit was pleas

’d to instil,His gift is as good, if, in speaking their own,Men made the same truth in all languages known.

The cloven ton’

gues like fire which sat upon each of the persons

mfi oned (Acts 1 . were a plain symbolicalnotice, that by the Holyhost, with which they were then baptized, they should be endowed,rthe propagation of the G ospel in all nations, wi th divers languages.

this is not the case, pray what reason can be assigned.

why there

ould be an hppearance of fiery tongues divided, and si tti ng upon

ch of the Apostles and disciples? Rev. Mr. Lancaster’s letter to the

184

This effect youwill grant the goodgift to intend;Now, supposing two ways of attaining one end,

Is that ex lication less likely or J ust,

W hich ta es the more simple, more plainly august?

Your account is quite new in one thing that I meet,That is, that the speakers went into the street,Orwent out of the house to the multitudeMFor, of this going out I have never read yet ;

Or if ever I did, have forgotten the book,

And can find nothing said in th’account ofSt. Luke,

But what should imply both profane and devout

Coming into the house, and not them to go out.

May one askwhat authority, then, you have got

For the scene and succession, which here you allot

To the speaking disciples, in number fifteen,

By an orderwell fancied, but not to be seen

In the Acts, or elsewhere the New Testament through?

Nor —(what I shall just give a hint of to youW ill you find an Apostle, not even a P aul,In a tongue, not his own, ever preaching at all.

I agree that the mockers who mach’d with the throng,

Knew only their vulgar J erusalem tongue rfBut when you say farther, what cannot but strike,That the nations too all understood it alike,Your order

’d confusion of speaking a store

To a crowd out of doors is more puzzling and more.

In the midst of such darkness ifyou can see light,You need not complain of the need of eye

- sight :

TheApostles and D isciples, upon the rumour ofwhat had happenedbeing spread abroad, by those of the house in which they were assembled, went out to the multitude, whom such a report had bro t to

gether ; and then in order, first one of them in one language an then

another of them in another, and so on till all the languages of the nations specifiedwere used, addressed the multitude ; who hearing illiterateG alileans speaking after such a manner to each different class amongstthem in thei r own proper language in which they were born, were amaned and confounded. Mr. L .

’aletter.

t The mockers appear to be such as understood the J ewish langu

St. P eter’s speech eglnn ing (Acts 2. is addressed to all the m titude, and, as being so

,is spoken in the J ewish language, which all J

them, tho’of dlfi

'

erent nations, understood. Mr. L .

’a letter .

3 A much greater complaint than this I have to make, and that ll

want of eyesight ; for what appears to you as clear as the sun does ni lappear to me clear at all. Mr. L .

’s letter.

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186

Three things are laid down in prose favour the last,’

And regard to his thoughts would have none of them past;To his first itwas paid, to his future shall be ;But let Veritas magis amica

” '

l' be free .

First manage the comma, says be, howyou will,SP EAK, or HEAR, the same sense will resultfrom it stillYes, the sense of the context , M oder-m admi n :W hile they speak in their tongue,we allhear in aar oun

word fill/$15 or Tomm ie, says he next,

PVhene’er it is us ’d by itself in a text,Never signifiesfire, never signifiesfiaAnd, bel ieving it true, I say also the same.

But in joint can; my”tongue offire, or a blaze,

Foreign languages claim no symbolical phrase ;Tho

’tongue may occasion mistake to hefsl,

It has here no relation to language at all.

Short issue, he thinks, the dispute will admit,And desires me to answer this query, to wit,Were the tongues, the newtongues, which apromisewasmad!

That D isciples should speak, as St. Markhath display’d,

New languagw, such as have never been‘

gvt

By learning beforehand to speak them, or not?

To which for the present, till somebody shewThat it must have this meaning, my answer is, no.

Now this, if he can, I could wish he would do,

And prove the construction— NEW LANG UAG ES— true,

In the sense that he meansz— for, when allunderstoodOne person who spake, itwas reallyas goodAs if numbers had spoken, or promised grace

W ere interpreted languages here in this place.

You send me to Hebrew and G reek, and the result of my inquiris,however the comma be managed in the verseyoumean, (Acts 2. 11 .

the sense is the same ; and that llwill,when used by itself, never sign

fies fire or flame. And therefore, to bring the dispute to a short issus

I desire your answer to the following nery-Were the new tongue

W i th whi ch our Saviour (Mark 16 . 1 73 promised his disci les shoulspeak new languages, that is, such as they had never learn or not iMr. 1l’s letter.

t Truthyet a greater friend. 3 Lalountoon autoon . Lashon .

flLashon esh.

187

The effect was the same, and may answer the pithO fallthat his second has favour

’d me with.

Stil l difficult, then, ifwe careful ly sift,Is the vulgar account of the P entecost gift,W hich the learned advance, and establish thereonW hat the Vicar has built his ideas upon,W ith additions thereto, which, as faras I see,

Not one of the learned has added, but he ;For example if some,

— very few, I presume,Have describ’d the Disciples as quitting the room.

But let them be many, what reason, what traceDo we find of their leaving the sanctify

’d place?Ofa wind from above did they fear at the shake?

And the house, thro’a doubt of its falling, forsake?

Or did they go forth to the gathering quire,Lest the many bright flames should have set it on fire?

Ifa thought could have enter’d ofgoing away,

W hat circumstance was not strong motive to stay?

Then again— that the foreigners, all of them, kn

The language then us’d at J erusalem too

For the miracle’s sake one would here have demurr’d;W hich is render

’d so needless, improper, absurd,That J erusalem mockers would really have hadA pretence to al ledge that the pious were mad;For ofspeaking strange tongues what accountable aim,

O r ofhearing fifteen, when they allknew the same?

Add to this— the Disciples, the Hundred and Twenty,Spake amongst one another strange tongues in like plenty,One by one, says the V icar, who very well sawW hat c onfusion would rise without some such a lawAs the text

_

has no hint of, which says“ they began

To speak by the Spirit,”

not man after manCould time have sufiic

’d for so doing, yet why

Speak the tongues of such men, as were none ofthem by?

The V icar saw too that this could not attract

Any multitude thither, supposing it fact;And so he conceiv

’dthat a rumour was spreadBy the men of the house, ofwhom nothing is said.

Now, when men of his learning are forc’d to find out

Such unchronicled salvos to dissipate doubt,

188

One is apt to infer awell grounded suspense,And the more to look out for more natural sense.

I wish my old friend would consider the case,

And how ill it consists with effusion of grace

To speak P arthian and Median, and so of the rest,

To none but themse lves being present address’d

Unless he can g rant, on revolving the point,That indeed there is something not rightly in joint,Or solve one

’s objections, or shew one the way,

How to clear up the matter.—What can a man say?

EP ISTLE FOURTH.

I HAVE with attention, dear V icar, repasa’d

Your obliging reply to the lines in my last ;Am sorry

’tis final, yet cannot but say

That your patience to hear me, has gone a great Way,And extinguish

’d all right to require any more,

If I put you to prove two and two to makefour,’

Very difiicult task — as one cannot deny,W hen there

’s nothing more plain to demonstrate it by.

But if two and two, four, I am thinking, has claimTo selfevident truth, has this comment the same?

The new tong ues, which are mention’

d in promising pagc

Are the old ones subsistingfor many an age

Is it really as plain, as that four is twice‘

two,That in no other sense they could ever be new,

But as new to the speaker,— J ohn, P eter, or P aul,

W hile the tongues in themselves had no newness at all?

W ere this a true thesis, and right to maintain,Yet two halves are one whole” is, however, more plrTil l the proof

'

which is wanted shal l make it appearHow the two propositions are equal ly clear.

Your answer to the uery, were the tongues, which our Sav

promised his disciples ( ark 16 . they should speak with, such

guages as they then knewnot?” - is,

no.

” This is doing things to

purpose, a bold Alexandrian stroke ; and I am put upon the dimtask of showing that two and two make four. Mr. L.

’a letter.

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190

If the facts had requir‘d it) what could ithave shewn,

Tho’the text had this meaning, if not this alone?

For how do all languages spoken in one"

D isagree with the promise insisted upon?I allow it fulfill’d; let the V icar allowThe fulfilling itself to determine the how.

G od’s wonderful works

’

when disciples display’d,

And spake by the Spirit’s omnipotent aid,

Ev’ry one understood in a language his own,

Loquentibus illis, l akodwwv ad'rc

'

iiv

W hile they spake”at the first; for, good G reek and

good sense

Forbid us to form an unwritten pretence

For dividing of tongues, when the Spirit’s descent

G ave at once both to speak and to knowwhat was meant.

But thus to interpret, it seems, you forbid,’

By placing the stop as old G regory did,W ho thought as you think; tho

’

you bring, I agree,At least a more plausible reason than he,From a passage that suits with your meaning alone,Acts the tenth, for they heard

” iixouov 7 d; adr cfiv '

l‘

Aakoévm v them Speaking,”and ykdroa i s in tongues,

W here indeed to that G reek that construction belongs.

By transposing two words the grammatical lotShews when they are absolute, when they are not ;

But be it them speaking,”as youwould collect,

In our languages,”stil l it will.never affect

The force of those reasons from which ’tis inferr

’d

That at once they were spoken, at once they were heardNor of those which deny that TONG UES, quatenus§new,

Mean always precisely what LANG UAG ES do.

That evidence, V icar, which here you have brought,tC ross examin

’

d, will certainly favour this thought ;

Let me observe that thewordsAal odwwv adrdv(v. are not, as

youwould have them, put absolutely, but are governed ofduodoy sv, as

Aakodflwv ad'rc'

iiv (v. are of iixouov, and as adra'

J v

ykdooats are of the same verb (Acts 10. Mr. L .

’s letter.

t Eecouon gar entoou. So far as, or,for as much as they are new.

3 See the reference to Acts 10. 46.

191

For Cornel ius converted, and company too,W ithout intervention of languages new,

How can any one think, but from prejudice bred,Tho’ honest, from what he has often heard said,That then they were all on a sudden inspir

’d

To speakwith strange tongues, when no reason requir’d?

But now being got to the end ofa tether

P rescrib’d to your trouble, I leave to you whether

Tongues anywhere else, in the sense you assert,

W ere spoken to purpose, that is, to convert?

Or whether your patience can bear to excuse

A reply to your hints on the sense that I choose?

In the mean time I thank you for favours in hand ;And, speaking or silent, am yours to command,

J . B .

An Epistle to J . Bl— k— n ,

Occasioned by a D ispute concern ing the Food of

ST. J OHN THE BAP TIST.

certainly very ingenious, by which the author attempts toprove that thefood of J ohn the Baptist consisted of vegetables, or thetops of trees, and not of that most destructive among volatile insects, theLocust . He is not singular in his opinions about this matter : Athanasins, Isidorus, Theophylact, and others have adopted the same idea res

pecting it, and {some of them have employed similar reasoning . The

most plausibleparts ofwhat is used on both sides will befound in the

following notes.

THE point, Mr. Rl— k— n, disputed upon,W hether insects or

'herbs were the food ofSt. J ohn,Is a singular proofhow a learned pretenceCan prevail with some folks over natural sense,So consistent with herbs, as you knowwas allow

’d.

But the dust that is rais‘dby a critical crowd

Has so blinded their eyes, that plain, simple truthIs obscur’d by a posse of C lassics, forsooth!

192

Diodorus and Strabo, Solinus and fElian,

And authorities down from the Aristotel ian,Have mention

’d whole clans that were wont to subsist

In the East upon Locusts as big as your fist

Therefore so did the Baptist— now, were it all true

That reporters aflirm, but not one of them knew,

W hat follows but hearsay how savages eat,

And how locusts sometimes are necessity’s meat?’

Ifamongst their old tales they had chano’d to determine

That the J ews were accustom’d to feed on these vermine,

It would have been something ; or did they produce

Any one single hermit that stor’d them for use ,

Havin pick’d them, and dry

’d them,and smok

’d in the sun,For, t is before eating, they tell us, was done,— 1The example were patter than any they bringTo support such an awkward, improbable thing.

Hermitical food the poetical tribeOfC lassics have happen

’d sometimes to describe,

And their native descriptions are constantly foundTo relate in some shape to the fruits of the groundIf exception occurs, one may venture - to sayThat the Locust conceit never came in theirway,Or let its defender declare, ifhe knows,Any one single instance in verse or in prose .

But the wordwhich the text has made use of,” ’tis said,

Means the an imal Locust, wherever’tis read,

This is very true. No one can suppose that these voracious crea

tures are

preferred in theEast to other sustenance. The acounbs

,whichwehave to t is effect from travellers, can only apply to the natives makinthe best ofa bad affair : when t he rising vegetables and rain are lai

waste by these destroyers, in what betterway can they emp oy themselves

than in pickling and eating the creatureswhich have caused such injury?t And on this account it is said to be improbable that St. J ohn ,whose

life is reckoned almost that of an ascetic,would in the wilderness use

the labour that is requisite in seizing and in salting locusts sufficient for

his consumption in a year. If be submitted to this, it would detract

greatly from those ideas,which, in the G ospels,we are led to form of his

abstinence . Hewould then, instead of eating simple fare, be indul'

ngin delicacies ; for, as such, we are assured, the Easterns esteem emwhen thus prepared.

3 It is related by Burchard, in his description of the Holy Land, thathe found near the river J ordan a sort of herb, called Locusta, which theMonks in that part use for food, and which, they say, was eaten h

J ohn the Baptist. P ods also, or the teps of boughs on trees, are calle

by the G ermans to this day,“St. J ohn

’s bread.

”

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I94

I'

appeal to the Hebrew, and for the G reekwordTo the twenty- third Iliad, where once it occurr’d,And where the old P rince of the C lassics, one sees,

Never once thought of insects , but branches of trees,’

As the context evmces ; tho’

, allto a man,Translators adopt the Locusticalplan .

How the Latin Locusta:should get a wrong sense

Is their hua’

ncas to prove,who object the pretence.

translation is correct that in Exodus x. 14. 15 . and in severalother

passages, which contain accounts of the habits,or the ravages of the

locusts ,they are designated by the same name ”3 18 as in Leviticus

(3 ) that the following and sim ilar descriptions of them can suit no other

flying reptiles withwhich we are acquainted, -“The East wind brought

the locusts . For they covered the face of the whole earth,so that the

land was darkened ; and they did eat every herb of the land, and all

the fruit of the trees which the bailhad left and there remained notany green thing in the trees

,or in the herbs of the that

wherever these ravenous multitudes are mentioned in the Hebrew ible

their correspondent name in the Septuagint is drpides and that, till

it be proved that nearly the same thing is intended by dupis and fluid ,on which unauthorised assumption the whole weight of this constructionrests, we must be contentwit h the common English reading ofLevit. 11 .

and of the disputed passage, Mat. ii i. ti m Espec ially when we have,in favour of such acquiescence, the great name of D r. Shaw

, in thesewords Neither has any authority been hitherto produced for takingduptdes according to the G reek appellation, for thefrnit of the locust- tree, or the tops Qtplants the name itself being rather derived fromthe desire, or appetite, which this

’

usect has, in particular, of livingupon such food. On the same si e are ranged all the able modern

commentators ; and consonant with theirs is the dec ision of thatamiableman and acute critic, the late D r. Campbell,who says, I see no andto doubt that it was the animal so named that is meant here. havenever had satisfactory evidence that the word is susceptible of anyother interpretation .

”

Here comes an attempt at reducing the G reek word i n ides to themean ing of the tops oftrees . Homergives the following simile, find 21. 19.

‘

Q r 8’

89’

J ami {un i s G raphs dupides oisgéOovrm(Dewip evat moraubvb

‘

s, SEC .

Thus correctly translated by CowperAs when

,by violence offire expell

’d,

Locusts uplifted on the wing escapeTo some broad river

,swift the sudden blaze

P ursues them, they, aston ish

’d,strewthe flood

,

So, by Achilles driv’n, & c .

Let branches oftrees be substitutes for locusts, and then let the impartial reader determine which of the two is the most appropriate and beantifulcomparison . The first

,accords very accuratelywith themeanswhich

the inhabitants of eastern countries use for the destruction of their reptile ravagers the second,which here follows,does not appear so natural,

195

But the classical G reek, tho’ it often confirm,

Cannot always explain a NewTestament term,

Any more than an Old one ; and therefore, to passAllauthorities by of a P aganish class,Let them ask the G reek Fathers, who ful l aswel l knewTheir own tongue and the G ospe l , which meaning is true.

But for insects to find a plain proof in their G reekW il l cut a librarian outwork for a week.

For herbs here is one, which, unless it is match’d

Ought to carry this question as fairly dispatch’d

Isidorus, G reek Father of critical fame,Has a letter concerning this very G reek name,Dismissing the doubtwhich a querist had got,If the Baptist did eat animalcules or not

G od forbid,”

says the Father, a thing so absurd},The summits of plan ts is the sense of the word.

”

Such an ancient decision, so quite a propos,Disperses at once all

’

the C lassical showOfa learning that builds upon Africa

’s East,

And the tales, howwild people were fabled to feastUpon fancied huge locusts, which never appear,Or huge or unhuge,

— but five months in the year,To be boarded, and pickled in salt and in smoke,HowSaint J ohn is employ

’d by these Critical folk!" lr

since we are not told that the trees grew on the banks of a river, nor

that the branches, already partially scorched by the fire were driven

in to the stream by the fury of the wind. The word s 'yepteva; would

induce the reader to conclude that they were at some distance, unless it

be referred to the height intended by oispéGovra i, which has the further

sign ification of “being suspended. Taking dupides in this sense,the

passage will be almost literally translated thus,Aswhen, by force of fire

,branches

Erected stand,into a river’s bed

bout to drop, just then the flame, unspent,Excited fresh

,with sudden fury burns,

And makes them down into the water fall,So, by Achilles, & c .

Many of the commmentators see no reason for supposing that St.

J ohn cooked them in any form . The accounts iven of his food and

c lothing convey the idea of both being simple, an requiring little or no

pre aration . The honey and the locusts might be m ixed together, and

reu ered palatable. The P seudo- G ospelaccording to the Hebrews af

fords a colouring to this Opin ion . It says, his meat was locusts and

wild honey ; and the taste of i t (of this mixture) was that of manna,

196

W here the Locust could feed, such an abstinent saint

Offood for his purpose could never have want.

If the desari was sandy andmade such a need,How account for the Locusts descending to feed?

In short, Mr; BL— k— n, they cannot escape

The charge of“ absurd,” in allmanner of shape ;

If they can, let them do it - meanwhile I concludeThat St. J ohn

’

s was the plantal not animal food.

Thus, Sir, I have stated, as briefas I’m able,

The friendly debate that we had at your table,W here the kind entertainer, I found, was inclin

‘

d,And acknowledge the pleasure, to be ofmy m ind.

Having only to add, now I make my report,That howe’

er we may differ in points of this sort,Our reception at Orford allpleas

’dwe review,

Arid rejoice in the health of its master;— Adieu!

“ like sweet-meats kneaded with oil. The advocates, too,for“tiff,

being a plant lay hold on this latter circumstance, and assert that thecommixtion of hone with the juicy pods or extremities of boughs, besides the greater pro ability of it

,would he far more agreeable to the

taste than the other medley.

And here,in these notes

,is an end ofwhat the judic ious P oole calls

great and insign ificant disputes, about the habit and the diet of St.J ohn the Baptist.

”

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And I doubt, notwithstanding the common consent,

That the meaning is miss’dwhich Maeonides ’ meant.

W hy thebruteswere firstplagued, an Eustathius andothersHave made a great tent, with their physical pothersOf the nature. and causes, and program ofplague,And all to the purpose quite foreign and vague .

But be medical symptoms whatever they wil l,Such matters I leave to friendHeberden’s skill,And propose a plain fact to allcunninger ken ,

That the mules and the dogs, in this passage, are men.

J ust then, as they rise, to explain my ideasLet the Lexicon tel l what is meant by obpiiar,In plain, common sense , without physical routs,The G recian outguards, the custodes, or scouts .

The word may be mules too, for aught that I know,

For my Scapula§says,“’tis Ionice ‘l

‘

so ;”

And refers to the lines above qu’

oted from Homer,W here mules, I conceive, is an arrant misnomer.

Ifaword has two meanings, to critical testThat whichmakes the sense better is certainly bestThe plague is here plain ly describ

’d to beginIn the skirts of the camp, then to enter W ithin,To rage, and occasion what Iliad stylesIncessantly burning their funeral piles ;

W hich the G reeks,‘

I conjecture, were hardly such foolsAs to burn, or erect for, the dogs and the mules.

The common G reekword, the Homerical too,For mules is haiovousfi where it will do ;And there was, as it happen

’d, no cause to coerce

Its use in this place, for it suited the verse.

W hereas a plain reason oblig’d to discard,

If this was the point to be shewn by the hard,That first to the parties about the main campApollo dispatch

’d the vindicative damp.

Thus much for cipher: the meaning of active:

Is attended, I own, with a little more newness ;For the sense, in this place, wil l oblige us to plantA meaning for alive; which lexicons want.

Homer. §The Editor of a G reek Lex icon .

t In the language of Ionia. Eemionous,a half-ass, or mule.

199

'

And ifthat be a reason for some to reject,’Tis no more than correction, tho

’

just, may expect;But ifit be just,

”the true critics willfi dd,

’Tis a meaningwhich Lexicons ought to have had.

Both canes“ in Latin, and

'

xzives in G reek,And the Hebrewword for them, if critics would seek,Should be render

’d sometimes, in prose

-writers or bards,By

“slaves, or by servants, attendants, or guard

s.

”

Oéphas and active : have here, in my thought,Mucha like kind ofmeaning, as real ly they ought;The difi

’rence, perhaps, that, for camp

-

preservationOne mov’

d or patroll’d, while the other kept station .

Apyotis, which is white in the commonest sense,To describe the dogs here has no sort ofpretence ;Nor here will the Lexicons he lp a dead liftThat al low the odd choice too of slow,

”or of swift.

'

If the degs were demolish-

’d,

’twill certainly fol low

Thatwhite, slow, or swiftwas allone to Apol lo,W hose fam

’d penetration was rather too deep

To mistake dogs for soldiers, as Ajax did sheep.

W hy them? or why mules?— For, Description allows

That he shot at no horses, bulls, oxen, or cows ;W ith a vengeance selecting, from all other classes,P oor dogs of some sort, and impeccant half-asses.Nowgrant, what his poem shews plainly enough,That Homer abounds with nonsensical stuff,Yet it should for his sake, if it can, be confin’d

To the P agan,and not the P oetical kind.

The Mules and the dogs, being shot at, coheres

N o better with sense than the bulls and the bears.To exculpate old Homer, myworthy friend L loydSome sort of correction shouldhere be employ

’d

And for languages’sake,— in which matters are spread

Of a greater cbncern, if old writers are read,VVhere it seems to be wanting, the critics should seekTo make out fair English for Latin or G reek.

If thewords have a meaning both human and brute

W here Homer describes his Apollo to shoot,

Dogs.

200

Tho’brute in the Latin possesses the letter,

I take it for granted that human is better.

Do you think this a fair postulatum? I do ;But you only aflirm that the HUMAN is true .

”

That’s all that I want in this present epistle ;

In the next I shall prove it, as clear as a whistle .

M " ,

EP ISTLE SECOND.

YOUR consent I made hold to suppose, in myTo a fair postulatum had readily past,.That a mulish distemper, or that a canine,Neither suited Apollo

’

s, nor Homer’s design,

L ike making the subjects, who - felt its first shock,To be men like their masters, tho

’baser of stock.

Now, proofat the present comes under the pen

That obp‘has and item may signify men .

”

You’ ll draw the conclusion so fair and so just,

That if they may do it, they certain ly must ;Itwould lookwith an unphilosopli icalface,And anti-Rawthmelian,

’ to question the case.

'l

'

ho’the proofs of this point, which I formerly noted,

Have slipt my remembrance, andc annot be quoted.

From Homer himself itmay chance to appear,As I promis

’d to make it, no whistle more clear.

That obpiier are guards” in Iliadal lore

Youmay see i n book Kappa, line eighty and four ;;W here the wise commentators confess in their rulesThat Here it is guards , not halcyonmulesB e ing join

’d with éra iporl

'

companions ,they knewAs ira ipoi were men, that obp

‘zies were too.

Now let us illustrate the combated placeAs near as we can by a parallel case.

Refer.m ix to Rawthmel’s coffee -house,where severalmembers of

Royal Soc iety usually spent their even ings together.

I’Hé m

"

odpn'

wvaghast“,ii r iv

’

ira igalv. l LlA D . IO.

Com’et thon abroad

Seeking some friend or soldier of the guard? COW P EI

t Etairoi.

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202

There are places enow to evince, that attendantsW ere men or were maidens, were friends o r dependants.Thus Achil les ads 0705, Omega rehearses,

’

Had two Sspa'

arovrerrboth nam’

d in the verses,Automedon, Alcimus, —whom, it is said,He valued the most, for P atroclus was dead.

P enelope thus, in first Odyssey strain;Two hadm hm

‘

l‘ follow’

d, two women ,

’tis p lain ,

W hen the dame was obit aim and mention’d anon,

How they stood to attend her, on either side one.

Had hwim hoi signify’

d cats” in the G reek,

W ould not sense have oblig’

d us newmeaning to seek?And two dogs as unlit as two cats youwill ownTo describe man or woman not being alone.

”

To close the plain reasons that rise in one’s mind,

Take an instance from V irgil of similar kind,W here, in fair imitation ofHomer, no doubt,He describes King Evander to dress and march out;

And discern, by the help of his Mantuan pen,How custodes and canes were both the same men ,W here canes are dogs,

”as all custom opines ;

See V irgil’s eighth book

— come . I’ll copy the linesNecnon cl gemin i custodes limine ab alto§P rocedant, gressumque canes com itantur her-item

K iiver aip‘

yoi in Homer were then in his view,

W hen V irgil in Latin thus painted the two ;

Odie oios, 36a) Sepdn'

ov'

lss gn ov’

lo

Hews Au’

lomébwv, bye. ILIAD . 24 . ,575 .

Ofwhom two alone

Served at his side, Alcimus, branch ofMars,

And brave Automedon . Cowman.

tTherapon tes. Amphipoloi .

IOdie oiiri— oiwin'

ohm dx7 gnov'

lo. ODYS . l . 3 3 1.

Not sole,for two fair liandmaids follow’d her. C owran .

§Most of the translators give these lines the following sign ification :

“no trusty dogs go also before him through the stately entrance, and attend

on thefootstcps of theirmaster. They may,with as great propriety, standtthus : Two guards march likewise before himfrom the lofty door, and dogsa ccompany the steps of their master.

It is our author’

s wish to have them understood after this manner,!

fl co guards go alsobefore himfrom theM y entrance, and, like dogs, accom

pony the steps of their master. Or, giving canes the sign ification of seru nts, Theomenialguards go also, he.

203

And the canes in him are the very custodes,Most aptly repeated, dignissime sodes.

‘

D id ever verse yet, or P rose ever record

Any literal dogs that kept pace with their lord?P roceeding, attending

”— how plain the suggestion

That dogs in the case are quite out of the question !

And now I appeal to all critical candour,IfHomer

’s young hero and senior Evander

Had dogs for companions, to honour their gressusd'

As translators in verse and in prose would possess us.

The moderns, I think, —though a lover ofmetre,Should manage with judgment a l ittle discreeter,Than to gape and admire what old poets have sung,If it will not make sense in their own mother tongue .

EP ISTLE THIRD .

HAVING shewn you the passage, one cannot avoid

An appendix so proper, kind visitant L loyd,To the mules and the dogs, which a little while since

W ere guards and piquets, as verse sought to evince.

\Vhether n tillES attended, two- footed or four,Upon heroes and kings let the critics explore ;But odpnas for mules,

”in old Homer

’s intent,

I suspect that his rhapsodies never once meant.

The word is twice us’d, in the twenty third book,¢

In the space of five l ines, where I made you to look.

I’ll refresh your attention

— Achil les, know then,Had desir’d Agamemnon , the monarch ofmen,To exhort them to bring, when the morning appear

’d,

And prepare proper wood for a pile to be rear’d,

For the purpose ofburning, as custom instill’d,The remains of P atroclus whom Hector hadkill’d.

W hen the morning appear’dwith her rosyfied fingers,

Agamemnon obey’d, and exhorted the bringers,

In a most becomingmanner, I beseech you. t Steps.

IO tignas r’

ciirpvve na i aivépas . ILIAD . 23 . 1 1 1 .

Then royal Agamemnon call’d abroadMules and mule- drivers from the tents in hasteTo gatherwood.

20-1

'

The mules and the men— as translation presentsExhorted them all to come out oftheir tents.

So the men and the mules lay amongst one another,If this be the case, in some hammocks or other ;And the men taking with them ropes, hatchets , and tools,W ere conducted, it seems, to the wood by the mules.

For the mules went before the Latinists say,W hich, a man may presume, was to shew them the way;Or since there was danger, the mules going first

M ight, perhaps, be because not one of them durst

For they allwere to pass, in their present employ,To the woods ofmount Ida be longing to Troy ;And ifTrojans fe ll on them for stealing their tire,The men, in the rear, might sooner retire.

However, both mulish and .wel l-booted folksCame safe to the mountain and cut down its oaks,And with more bulky pieces of timber cut outThey loaded such mules as were mules without doubt.W hen you found in the Latin so certain a place,W here the loading description shew’dmules in the case,

Your eyes to the left I saw rolling to seek

If the word for these mules” was odprim in oG reek.

And had they discover’d that really it was,

Conjecture had come to more difficult pass ;But since it was not, since naiovwv came,W hat else but the meaning could vary the name?W hy should Homer, so fond (as you very we ll no ted)Of repeating the wordswhich his Muse had once quoted,Make so awkward a change, without any pretenceOf reason suggested by metre or sense?

" Huiovoz, mules,”tho’ a masculine ender,

Is always in G reek of the feminine gender ;But 0625355, you

’ l l find, let it mean what it will,Never is ofthat gender, but masculine still .How ridiculous. then, that 069555, the he

’s,

Should become by their loading halovoi, she’s?

P g?) yde’

origins: xiov ad‘

ra'

iiv. ILIAD . 23 . 1 15 .

They, bearing each in hand his sharpen’d ax

And twisted cord, thence journey’d forth

, the mulesD riving before them. G owran .

Or rather, went before them.

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W here no metamorphosis, fable, or fiction,Can defend such abuse ofplain, narrative diction .

P erchance, as a doctor, you’l l thinkme unwise

For poring on Homer with present sore eyes ;

But a glance the most transient may see in his planThat a mule is a mule, and a man is a man .

Critical Remarks in English and Latin,

Upon several P assages in Horace.

with the progressreminded ifwhat occurs in thefirst page of thiswork, will not be

prised at some among the following emendations of Byrom,the

equalling in boldness the conjectures of Bentley,whowas his master

AN E P ISTLE TO A FRIEND,

P roposing a Correction in the following P assage

Si non Acrisium virginis abditce

Cus'ron n iu P AV IDUM J upiter et Venus

L ib. 3 . Ode 16.

If J upiter and Venus had not laughed at Acrisius, the afi'

rigkeeper of the concealed virgin .

the insertion of que,(and) after custodem, (keeper) and by cuttingfrom thebeginning of the next word (of both which alterat

surewilladmit) our author proposes to read the second line thus, (2demque avidum, 5

'

s. and the covetous guard, whom Acrleiiu

placed as a strict watchman over his incarcerated daughter. By thmakes theguard to haoe been bribed, and not Acrisius

,who is no

charged with such a lovefor theprecious metalsas toprefer thepotsof them to his ex istence.

SO then you thinkAcrisius really soldHis daughter Danae, himself, for goldW hen the whole story of the G recian kingMakes such a bargain so absurd a thing,That neither poetry nor sense could makeThe poet guilty of the vile mistake.

207

No,‘

Sir ; her father here was rich enough ;Satire on him, for sel ling her, is stuff.Fear was his motive to a vast expenceOfgates and guards to keep her m a fence ;But some dul l blockhead happ

’ning to transcribe

W hen half asleep, has made HIM take the bribe,W hich J upiter and Venus, as the bard

Hadwrit, made use of to corrupt the G UARD.

All the remarks on avarice are just ;But

'

twas the keeper that betray’d his trust.

P assage from V irgil which you here select usHowgold is cogent ofmortale pectusfAnd from Euripides, that gold can ope

G ates”unattempted even by the P ope,

Shewmoney’8 force on subjects that are vicious ;

But what has this to do with king Acrisms,W ho spar

'

d no money to secure his life,L ost, if his daughter once became a wife?He shut her up for fear ofdeath— and then

So ld her himse lf —all staff! I say again.

Deathwas his dread, nor was it in the pow’r

Of love’8 bewitchment, or ofmoney’d show’

r,

OfVenus, J upiter, or all the fryOfHomer

’

s heav’

n , to hire the man to die.

0

W here is his avarice of any kind

Noted, in all the fables that you find,Except in those of your inventing fashion

Thatmake him old, and avarice his passion ?

To hide the blunder of amanuenses,W ho, writing words, full oft unwrit the senses

Fact, that in Horace, in a world ofplaces,Appears by irrecoverable tracesOu which the critics raise a learned dust,And, stil l adjusting, never can adjust.Having but one ofall the Roman lyricsTo feed their taste for slavish panegyrlcs,The more absurd the manuscriptal letter,They paint from thence some fancied beauty better ;Hunting for all the colours round about,To make the nonsense beautifully out;

The breast of a human being .

208

Adorning richly, for the poet’s sake,

Some poor hallucinating scribe’s m1stake.

Now I would have a short-hand son ofmine‘

Be less obsequious to the C lassic line,Than , right or wrong, to yield his approbationBecause HOMERIC , or because HORATIAN ;Or not to see,when it is fairly hinted,E ither original defect or printed.

Not that it matters twopence in regard

Of either G recian, or of Roman bard,

If schoo ls were wise enough to introduceMuch better books for education

’s use .

But since, by force of custom or of lash,The boys must wade thro

’so much scum and trash

To gain their G reek and Latin, they should learnTRUE G REEK, at least, and LATIN to

‘discern ;

Nor for the sake'

of custom to admit

The faultsoflanguage, metre, serise or wit.

Because this blindafiachment by command

To what their masters h‘

n not understand,

Makes reading servile, in the younger flOCkaOf rhymingHorace down ocke ;

Knowledge is allmechanicallAnd no innate ideas of their

But while I’m rhyming to you what‘

es nexis

I shall forget th’ Acrisius of the text.

Your reasons, then why th'

Should not be chang’d to custodemque avidum,

Turn upon avaricez— you think the father

Fond of the bribe ;— I think the keeper rather ;W ho had no fear from Danae , the wife,W ho could receive the gold, and lose no life,Must needs be he, and that, without the change,The verse is unpoetically strange.

You make Acrisius to have been the guard,And to be punidas .

— Extremely hardTo make out either — For, what other placeShews that the king was jailer in the case?

And is not pucidas a dictum gratis?§W as not his Danae munita satis?

5A word that passesfor nothing, aword morefree than true.

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2103

Same, Mtecenas, cyathos

Does it full wel l without the dose,The monstrous dose in cup or can,That suits W 1th ne1ther bard nor man.

Richard. Nay, why so monstrous? Is it told '

Howmuch the cyathus'

rwould hold?You think, perhaps, It was a mug,As round as any J onian J ug.

They drankall night ; if small the glass,W ould centum 'l' mount to such a mass?

J ohn . Smal l as you wil l, if’twas a bumper;

Centum for one would be a thumper.Its bulkHoratian terms define,Votes atton itus§with nine ;G ratin : forbiddi ng more than threeThey were no th1mbles you may see.

Richard. Not in that ode ; in this they mlgfitIntend a more dini inish

’d plight

And then Mtecenas and the bard

That night, I warrant ye, drank hard

Ferfer in lucem,”Horace cries

To what a pitch might numbers rise !“

J ohn . A desperate long night, my friend,Before their hundred cups could end;Nor does the verse invite, throughout,Me cenas to a drunken bouts

F erfer in [ma n comes in view

W ithproculomnis clamor too.”

Richard. W as it no bout, because no noise

Should interrupt their midnight joys?

0 Take some on s,c enas. t A cup. t A hundred.

Qui usas amat impares,Ternos ter cyathos attonitus petet

Vates

The inspired (thunder-struck) poet, who loves the unequalnumbered (thenine) Muses, shall call for bumpers three t imesthree. Hoa

xL u. 3 . Ode 19.

3 One of the G races. Keep up till day- break.

1 Far from hsnce he allmuse

211

Horace, you read, with annual tap,Notes his escape from dire mishapMust he, and friends conven

‘

d, be sober,Because

’twas March and not October?

J ohn . Sober or drunk is not the case,

But word and meaning toreplace,Both here demohsh

’d. Did they, pray,

Do nothing else but drink away?For friends conven

’d had Horace got

No entertainment but to sot?

Richard. Yes, to be sure, he might rehearse

Some new or entertaining verse ;

Might touch the lyre, invoke the Muse,

Or twenty things that he might choose ;No doubt but he would mix alongW ith cup and talk, the joyous SONG .

J ohn . Doubtless he would ; and that’s the word

,

For which a centum so absurd

Has been inserted, by mistakeOfhis transcribers, scarce awake ;W hich all the critics when they keep,Are, quoad hoe,

“rquite fast asleep.

Richard. And that’s the word — W hatwordd’ye

mean?

For song does cen tum intervene?Song would be~ - O , I take your hint

Cantum not centum youwould print ;Sosp itis cantam

- but the clauseCan have no sense with such a pause .

J ohn . P ause then at sospitis, nor strike

The three caesuras allalike ;One cup ofHelicon but quafl

'

,

The point is plain as a pikestafi'

;

The wine, the song, the lustre’s light

”

The verse, the pause, the sense is right.

Richard. Stay, let me read the Sapphic out

Bathways, and then resolve the doubt

In this particular.

212

Same,Mcecenas, cyathos amici

Sospitis centum— et vigi les lucerna

F erfer in lacem—pracul omn is esta

Sume, Maecenas, cyathos amici

Sospitis, cantum, et vigiles lucernasFerfer in lucem : proculb mnis est0

‘

C lamor et ira.

‘

W el l, I confess , now I have'

read‘

,

The thing is right that you have said

One vowe l rectified how plainDoes Horace

’s intent remain !

NON UMQUE prematur in Annum .

HOB : ART. P oet. B . 3 8 3 3

And let it be suppressed till the ninth year.

The emendation propounded in these lines is unumque (and one) for nonumque (and the ninth) : thus making the periodfor the racia l and correc

tion of anywork to be one year instead ofn ine.

YE poets, and critics, and men of the schools,Who talk aboutHorace and Horace’s rules,Ye learned admirers, how comes it, I wonder,That none ofyou touch a most tangible blunder?I speak not to servile and sturdy logicians,W ho will, right or wrong, fol low printed editions ;But you, who are judges, come, rub up your eyes,And unshackle your wits, and I

’ll shewwhere it lies .

Amongst other rules, which your Horace has writ,To make his young P iso for P oetry fit,He tells him that verses should not be pursuedW hen the Muse or M inerva was not in the mood ;

The latter verse with the amended reading may be thus rendered.

Maecenas, take some cups (ofwine), on accoun t of your friend beingin safety begin a song and keep up the chearful light: tillday-break :let all noise and anger

’

be far removed.

”

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214

W hy, you are not far off it, ifpresent conjecture

May furn ish the place with a probable lecture ;For by copies, I doubt, either printed or written ,The hundreds of ed itors allhave been bitten .

Nine months you allow. Yes.

”— W e l l, let us, for fearOfafl

'

ronting Quintilian, e’en make it a year

G ive the critics their numque, but as to the ir no

You have one in plain English more fit to bestow.

I take the correction, unumque prematur

Let it lie for one twelve-month”; Ay. thatmayholdwater;

And time enough too lor consulting about

Master P iso’

s performance before it came out.

W hat!would Horace i nsist that the sketch of a boyShould take as much time as the taking of Troy?

They that bind out the young one say. when the oldfellowTook any time hke it, to make a thing me llow,

Tho’correct in his trifles, — Youngman , you say right;

And to them that will see, it is plain at first sight ;But critics that will not are hunting all roundFor something in sameness. in sense , or in 50 1111

It is all one to them, so attach’

d to the letter

That, to make better sense , makes u never the better.

Nay the more sense in readings, the less wil l they own ’em;

Youmust leave to these sages their mumpsimus nonum.

Do you think,”they cry out, that with so little wit

Such a world of great critics on Horace have writ?That the poets themse lves, were the blunder so plain,In a point of their art too, would let it remain

For you are to consider, these criticalchaps

Do not l ike to be snubb’d; you may venture, perhaps,

An amendment where they can see somewhat amim;But may raise the1r illblood, ifyou circulate this.

This as surely wil l circulate, Sir, as their b lood,Or, if not, itwill stand as in Horace it stood.

They may wrangle and jangle, unwilling to see,But the thing is as clear as a whistle to me.

This nonum of theirs no defence will admit,Except that a blot is no blot till

’tis hit;

9 15

And, now youhave hit it, if nammi content’em,

So would, if the verse had so had it, nongentum.

You’l l say, this is painting of characters” - true ;

But real ly, good Sirs, I have met with these twoThe first, in all comments quite down to the Delphiu,A man, if he likes it, may look at himself inThe last ifyou like , and, alongwith the youth,P refer to nonumque poetical truth,Then blot out the blunder, now here it is hinted,And by allfuture printers unumque be printed.

Nunc et CAM P U S, et AR E IE,

;Lenesque sub noctem susurre

Composttd repetantur hora.

Hon . L ib. 1 . Ode 9. 18 .

Now let both the Campus Martins,and the open squares,and

soft whispers be resorted to agai n , at the hour of assignation .

bur author wished cantus (a song ) , and alem (dice) , to be put inthe placeof campus a large plain, particularly that in which the popular assemblies ofthe Romans were held) , and area (any open places whatever) .

BY campus and by areas, my friends,The question is what Horace here intends?

For, such expression with the current style

Of this whole ode is hard to reconcile

Nay, notwithstanding critica l pretence,O r I mistake, or it can have no sense .

The ode, you find. proceeding to relateA winter’s frost in its severest state,Cal ls out for fire, andwine , and loves, and dance,And all that Horace rambles to enhance ;

But how can thisfair-weather phrase be longTo such

'

a wintry, saturnalian song?

Nine hundred.

216

A learned Frenchman quotes these very linesAs really difficult ; and .thus refines,W e use these words, says Monsieur Sanadou,For nightly meetings hora de la maisou ;

’

But ’tis ridiculous in frost and snow,

Ot'

keenest kind, that Horace should do so.

Right, Monsieur, right! such incoherent am?Is here, no doubt, ridiculous enough.

The Campus Martins and its active scenes,W hich commentators say the expression means,Have here no place ; nor can they be akin

To scenes, not laidwithout doors, but within .

Nuae '

l' must refer, proceeds the French remark,

To donecz— puet°

§ age ofTaliarque, I]Not to the trost ; for which the hard beforeDesign

’d the two first strophes , and no more ;

4“As commentators rightly should have taught,Or inattentive readers else are caught.

”

New inattentive critics too, I say,Are caught sometimes in their dogmatic way.

Un ited here, we must divide, forsooth,The time ofW i nter from the time ofyouth

\Vhen all expres- mns ofHoratian growth

Do plainly in this ode, refer to both.

Youthful th’ amusements, and for frosty week ;From drinking, dancing,

—down to hide and seek:But campus -comes and were between,By a mistake too big for any screen ;

And how nonsensically J oin’d with lispers,

“By assignati on met, of nightly whispers!”

Strange how interpreters retail the farceThat campus here should mean the field ofMars !When in their task they must have just read o

’er

Contrast to this, the very ode before,W here ev

’

ry manly exercise disclos’d

To love’s efl

’

eminacy stands oppos’d.

Out of doors. t Now. 3 Until: §B eing a youth .

1] Thaliarchus, the young man, towhom Horace addressed this ode.

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218

Talk not of riches pil’d on heaps

To justify the Latin phrase ;For ifyou take such critic leaps,You jump into Dog

-Latin days;And I shall answer to that trickIn med mente non est sic.

‘

That lands” were here the poet’s thought,

And house along the river’

s side,And lofty villa,

”built or bought,

Is much too plain to be deny’

d.

These high extructed spires” he writ

That mortal Deltiust'

soon must quit.

W el l, Sir, supposing this the case,

And structures what the poet meant,Howwil l you fill the faulty placeW ith phrase that suited his intent,

Meaning and metre both arrange,And small, if possible, the change

Smaller and better, to be sure,Into their place amendments fall

W hat first occurs wnllhere secure

Meaning and metre , change and all.

May'

it not be that for divitiis

Th’original had wdificiis?

Ifyou object that sep’

rate .

‘E

Makes in one word an odd division,Hor

’

ace, I answer to that plea,Has more than once the like elision zt

In short, upon correction’

s plan,G ive us a better if you can.

Accord ing to my m ind, it is not so.

t The man to whom the ode is inscribed.

3 Such a separation of the beginn ing of a word at the end of a linefrom the rest of it, placed at the commencement of the next line, is not

unfrequent among some of our anc ient and fantastic poets . This disunion is needless in the English language, as, from the easy divis ib ilityof our compotmd words, almost every variation that can be desired isreadily effected.

£ 19

Non est mourn, si mugiat AfricisMains procel/is, ad miseras preces

D ecurrere, ct cotis pacisci,Ne Cypria: Tyria

‘

que merces

Addant avaro divitias mari.

TUM me bircmis prazsidio scapha

Tutum per n mos tumultus

Aura F E RET, geminusque P ollux .

Hon . L ib. 3 . Ode

It is no part ofmy concern, if the mast be cracked by Africanstorms, to descend to piteous intreafies, and by my vows to makean agreement thatmy Cyprian and Tyrian wares shallnot augmen tthe treasures of the greedy ocean . Then under the safeguard ofa two- oared skill

,the breeze and the twin - brother P ollux will

waft me safely through the [Egean tempests.

O nly a slight variationfrom the orig inal text is here set down. Tumis changed into t um (when ), and l

'

e ret will bear) into ferat (mayThe sense of the passagewill then be as set down in the last verse.

THIS passage, Sirs, may put ye, one would think,In mind ofhim. who, in a furious storm,

Told that the vessel certai nly would Sink,Made a reply in the Horatian form ;

W hy, let it sink, then, if it will, ~

quoth he,I’m but a passenger, what is

’t to me?”

So non est Horace here cries out,To purchase calm withwretched vows and pray

’rs;

Let them who freight the ship be thus devout,I

’m not concern

’d in any of itswares.

”

May not one ask, if common sense will read,W as ever jest and earnest more agreed?

Nay, but you see the reason, tis replied,W hy he rejects the bargaining of pray

’r ;

9”

It is not my business.

220

His little skid'

W ill stem the raging tide

W ith double P ol lux and with gentler air.

This is his moral,”say his under

-

pullers,The poor and innocent are safe in scul lers .

W hy, so they may be, if they coast along,And shun the winds that make a mast to moan,

But here, according to the critic throng,

Horace was in the ship. tho’not his own .

Suppose a sculler just contriv’

d for him,

W hen the ship'

sunk, would his biremis " swim?

Can you by any construing pretence,

(If you suppose . as commentators do,Him 111 the Ship) make tolerable sense

Of his surviving all the sinking crew?

W ith winds so boist’rous, by what cunning twistCan his clear stars and gentle air resist?

The gifts of fortune Horace had resign'

d,And poor and honest his just fancy

’

d case ,

Nothing to do had he with stormy wind,Nor in n ean seas to seek a place .

How is it likely, then . that he should mean

To paint himselfm such an awkward scene?

W hy, but TUM me birem is '

l' must suppose,

By then escapi ng that he sure was 1n"

t ;

Andfi rst : too , that comes into the closeIn all the books that we have here i n print

Both words are wrong tho"

, notwnhstanding that,Tum should he cum, andferet beferal.

The sense or moral, ifyou please, is this,Henceforth be probity, tho

’

poor, my lot,The love of riches is but an abyss

Of dangerous cares, that now concern me not.

Caught in its storms , let avarice implore,I thankmy stars, I

“

m rowing safe to shore.

A two-cared vessel. t Then shalla two- oared vesselconvey me .

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”2

Leaves” I would add too—but the loara’d Dacier

Has made this point elaborately clear,

As one that artful Horace interweaves,The trees in Italy then shed their leaves ;And this the poet

’

s artifice profound,The trees themselves for Faunus strew’d the G round.

”

It is, we’ ll say, a fine Horatian flight ;

But is the herbage, are the lambs so right?r

Is there in all the ode a single thing,That makes the winter dilfer from the spring?

Nones ofDecember are indeed hybernal,But all the rest is absolutely vernal .

Len is incedis per aprica RURA

Does this begin like winter —but quid plum ?fRead how it allbegins, goes on, or ends,Nothing but notice is winterly, my friendsNeither in human, nor in brutalcreatures,One trace observ

’d ofwinter’s stormy features.

May not there be, then , tho’the critics make

No hesitation at it, a mistake?

The diggers dancing too has somewhat spissy,G audet invisam terrain pepulisse.

He in revenge,”say comments beats the soil,

Hated, because it gave him so much toil.

As oft the diggers,whom we chance to meet,Turn up the ground, and press it W ith their feet,Horace himself, perhaps we may admit,INVERSAM terram not invisam writ;But this zit present our demand postpones

P ray solve the doubts on these Decembrian Nones .

Thou pleasantlywalkest among thy sunny fields. t What more?

223

Ut tuto ab atris cbrpore viperis

Dormirem cl Uas1s ;

Hon . Lib. 3 . Ode 4. 17 .

How I could sleep with my body secured from black vipersand bears.

The change of ursis (bears) into hircis (goats) accords better with the climate

qf Italy, than the common reading, which is well suited to G reenland,or any cold country.

HORACE , an infant, (here he interweavesIn rambling ode, where no design coheres)

By fabled stock-doves cover’

d up with leaves,Kept safe from black

-skinn d vipers and from bears

But passing by the incoherent ode,I ask the critics “where the bears abode?”

The leaves, indeed, that stock-doves could convey,W ould be but poor defence against the snakes,

And sleeping boy he still an easy preyTo black pervaders of the thorny brakes ;

The bears, I doubt too, would have smelt him out,

If there had been such creatures thereabout.

The snakes were black; the bears; I guess, were white,(Or what the vulgar commonly call bul ls)

Bears had there been .- Another word is right,

That has escap’d the cr1t1c1smg skulls,

W ho suffer bears as quietly to passAs if the hard had been ofLapland class.

A wordwhere sense and sound do so agree,That I shal l spare to speak in its defence ;

And leave absurdity, so plain to see,

W ith due correction, to your own good sense ;’Tis this, in short, in these Horatian verses,For bears read goate

”-

pro URSIS lege macro

224

Roma , principia urbium,

n natur soboles inter amabdes

Vatum ponere me choros.

Hon . Lib. 4. Ode 3 . 18 .

The children (inhabitants ) of Rome, the queen of c ities, (h ip

to place me among the amiable bands ofpoets .

The change (J a s inglefinal rowel makes amabilis (amiable) the singular Jamabiles . Our author will have it applied to soboles m a tnot to chorus (bands ) . The sensewill then lie—The airframe children,are. among the bands of poets .

THIS is one ode, and much the best of two,Fam

’d above all for Scaliger

’e ado.

I rather would have writ so good a thingThan reign,

”quoth he , an Arragonian king.

Had he been king, and master ofthe vote,

I doubt the monarch would have chang’d his note,

And loading verses with a huge renown,W ould sti ll have kept his Arragonian crown .

This ode , howe’er, tho

’short of such a rent,

He shew’d some judgment when he singled out,

C ompar’dwith others, one IS at a stand

To think how those should come from the same hand.

For, if they did,’tis marvellous enough

That sucha muse , w1th such a breath, should pufl'

;That such a de l icate, harmonious Muse

Should catch the clouds, or sink into the stews.

But fame has sold them to us in a lot,And all is Horace, whether his or not.

For his or whose you will, then, let them pass,W hat signifies it who the author was?Dunglnll ofEnnius, as we are told

By ancient proverb, might afford some goldAnd that

’s the case ofwhat this Horace sung,

Some grains ofgold, with tinsel mix’d, and dung.

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igant P ueros Archididascsli,

P ro longs fuerit syllaba si brevis ;

Et credunt critici icere Horatian)Ignis Iliacas domes?

”

Sunt, qui, cum penitus sensus shest

Fuguant, ac vitium mille modis tegunt ;Quos vocum ratio dissons plurimm

Fixis Mentihus ingeris.

Verum, Carminihus cum sue Quantita

Besit, quam ratio metrics postulat,

fieccare velit, tam pueriliter,omane fidicen lyre ?

Si demum parilis culpa notabitur

Vatum, quam pariter oorrigere est net'

s ,

Defendat numerus ; Tu tsmen, interim,

Verum restituas metrum.

Voci, qua; legitur, litera defuitP rinceps, quam soliti pingere, forsitsn,Hand scripsere : legas uret Admit-s

'

r

Lign is Iliacas domos.”

TRANSLATION.

laced there. Schooor a long one ; and

(wood

One authorwould cha ngeAchaicus I is G recian fireAchsicis Liguis, (thefleetwillburn wit G rgcian wood.arm “0

l His tam ns thcult ratin

$ 2is abs};

6 mubem mkfs rm n mm

27

Quis negct ardtu'

s

P ronos relabi posse rivos

Montibus, ct Tyberim reverti,Cum tu coemptos undiqwe nobilesLibros P am ti , Soq

'

aticam ct domamMUTARE loriots Ibm

’

s,

P ollicitus meliora, TENDIS.

Who can now deny the possibility of idrivers flowingbackagain to the highmountain and of eTyber

’s return,when

thou atmest at exchanging e noble books of P ana tina, purchased in all uarters, and the houshold of Socrates forIberian coats 0 mail

, after having promised better things?

Ifnoai n s,ut,tutere,andvendis sa

ggytheplace: qfnobiles,et,mutate,“

tendis, as our author proposes, t quotatioafromHoracewillread as inwith the others

, is translated below.

NON esse,” dices, credo, poeticum

Hoe tcndis et qui) tenderet Iccius?

Mutare libros - at vicissim

Non alios habuisse fertur.

Mature, rursus, Socratieim domain?”

He c velle Sectam linquero te docentAt Secta loricas IberasNulla '

novo dederat G lienti.

TRANSLATION.

I think,” thouwilt say thisword tendis is notpoetic : afidwhither

would Iecine he tending} To change his books? But by turns hehe is said to have had no others. A

'

n, is he aiming at chu

gging the

Socratic hours?” These words teac thee that he is wishful leavinga aect : But no sect had givan Spa fish Coats q/

‘

Mail to cne who had butM y ut himself under its protection. Whilst at amere glance

at .(sarch -ed) and thewords which followit,compared with those.p scade it,raise a uasiou that P ollieitu action ,wai ts (‘rn oo

“ n ot ,having 1) better,things?

should be here read. Iceius,thelotu s soldier aud anranofscienee, so (1 thebooks which he had hoand,

”says fi an ce, in ajestingmanner,

“he is not willing to dsciencewi th books, butwithwarlikewea ons.

” The ode,fullof Irony,

th us the leader af such adiscordant mi itary service ; but busy handsa n t ohave vitiated thelatter part of it, The hand ofHorace had, I,

think, i nscribed hiswaveringfnend thus—Quis negettdtc. can

deny that it is possible for recipitate rivers to flow ack to,the high

l ion and M the Ty to return, since the boohso

obfi e nd s tim,“ M utant Mu d the ho ofSocrateswrthIberian M ot - ail,after having afordedmore hopefulpramses?

”

228

Dum vox coentptoe, intuitumero,Et um sequuntur verba, prioribua

ollata, suadent hie legendum

P ollicitus meliora, vendis.

L ibros coemp'

tos vendidit Iccius,Miles inturns, virque Scientia ,

Quam nolit hic libris tueri,”

l laccus ait, joculsns, sed armis,

Tam discrepantis militia ducemIronisrum lens redarguit

Ode sed,

extremum videtur

Multa manus vitiasse carmen.

Sic ipsa Flacci pinxerat, autumo,lunarium amicum Quis neget arduis

P ronos relabi posse rivos

Montibus, etTyberim reverti ;

Cum tu coemptos undique nobilis

Libros P ausati Socraticam wt domumfi tters loricis Iberis,P ollicitus meliora,veudis

Hon. LIB. 2. 0 0 8 14.

EHEU!fugaces, P oethume, Farther”,

Labtltttitranni ; neepietasmoram

Nolumus hsnc posuisse vocem,

'B the changed trecenls (threehundred) into tercentuflmm wllbe understood to scy thct if P ostham sea

-

ye; an ”ever; for three hn dred doye together, hewlllaot q pense l’hda.

TRANSLATION.

Alas!"P osthumus P osthumus l the fleeti years alide onward I

willpictkpa

gse

fla

‘

uy

’

gelay to wrinkles

,main

gdrncing

‘m , a}!cc ocra c ea . ou a esse not m an thethishun dred bulls on each

plim in da’

y.

y p “h “

C What!withthredt undre e eannstadmit, ,Oh l' “ U0

race placed this word hem - quotquot cant die-L am .

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83 0

Dirisse vatem, (namque dici

Simplicius potuit) quod urgaet r

Quod, nempe, mors et regibus imminetE ueac colonis ; Mora—no na P ouhumo

itanda rsncaurou immo ndo

Lux quoties nitet orto, tauros.

Ni fallor, omnis victims P osthumi

Duntaxat unum quoque die bovem

Mactata P lutoni poposcit,Dum valuit manus ipsa Flacci :

Qui scripsit, aut qui scribere debuit,

(Tu sicut inquis, carmine nupero ;

Quod muse, pugnaz , dum refellit,Hoc penitus tibi subdit ausum.)

Non si quot not cu t dies,Amice, places illa rymabilem

F intona tauris”— quos opinorSic melius numerasse carmen.

Si sana vox sit, nemoveas locoSi non sit—amplis ingenio virisImmiste, dic quanam sodales

(Me tacito) repleantHiatum?

Thurs placer-is et horrid

Frags Lares aviddque porcd.

Hon . LIB. 3 0 OB I ”0

And thou shalt have appeased the houshold 6 0 b an olerihgof frankincense, and fruits of this year

‘gf’grzwth, anda

P orch, (agreedy swine,) our author thinks the m with.“wiabemore consistently preserved than es it nstostfl s.

QUE mens sit bujne carminis, nhecoro,Spectes

—mouenda est rustica P hydile,.Vel thure, vel fructu, velherhhRuricolas plscuisse Divis.

Si puremans sit, simenus innocens,P lacarepossint absqueeruoribus;

P rimumque ci extremum poets

Quis negathoe voluisse versum?

V ix ergo P orcam velle putaveris,Urbane, Flaccum frugibus additam;Nam thorn, nam fruges, et omnem

Sordida Sus vitiavit herbam.

Quid parva laudat, Numina, munera,Si P orca tandem victims poscitur?

Quid prosit immunis manusve,Farve pium, saliensque mica?

Aut omnis ut res hereat, indica,Aut Vi le mendum corrige protinus ;

on multa mutchie legendo,FruQ Lares avidasque P a

in ENG LISH VERSE

9

THEwhole design of thisHoratian strainIs so exceeding obvious and plain,That one wouldwonder how correctingeyesCould overlooka blot of such a size,As aviddqae P arod; when the line,8 0 read, quite ruins Horace

’s design.

Be, as the verse begins, and as it ends,This pointto rustic P hydile commends,That innocence to gifts the gods prefer,And frugal oil

’rings would suiiice from her;

That want of victim was in her no fault;Shemight present fruit, incense, cake, and salt.

W ithwhat connexion could he'

add to theseA eedy swine, in order to appeaseThe); very deities, whom ode 18 meant

To paintwith cheap and bloodless gifis content,From pious hands receiv

‘d, tho’e’er so small

But aviddque P osed spoils it all.

Whatmoral'mem t, if~tbey r’d, in fine

From rustic P hydikya great i'

at’swuinet '

Why little gods and littlematters ham’d,If such a sacrifice as this was claim’d‘

l

P orcd is wrong, Sirs,whetherwe regardThe gods, the countrywoman, or the hard.

W hat must be done in such a case as this?One must amend, tho

’one should do’t amim.

I’ll'

tel l you the correction, frankand free,That upon reading first occurr

’d to me ;

And seem’d to Sti ll. the bard’s intention better,

W ith small mutation of the printed letter.

Tho’avidaque P orca runs along

W ith verb, and ease, and measure ofthe song,Yet, if the poet is to be renown’

d

For somethingmore, than mere Italian Q uad,For l ife and sense, as well as shelland carcass ;Read—Frags Lures, aoidasque P arcas .§

Vile potabis modicis Sabinum

CantharisHon . Lib. 1 . “e so.

Theashalt drinkweak Sabine wine in little caps.

Our authorwishes potabis (thou shalt drink) to be chewed intoW hoawilldri nk) forreasons

HAVE ye no scruple, sirs,when ye rehearseThis hissing kind of an Horatian verse?

To me, I own,at sight of triple— is ,Suspicion said that something was amissAnd,when one reads the trip le Sapphic thro

’

,

fTis plain that what suspicion saidwas true.

Critics, as custom goes, if one shall bringThe plainest reason, for the plainest thing,W il l stick to Horace, as he sticks to print,And say, sometimes, that there is nothing in

’t.

Or here mistake, perhaps, may be my lot ;Now tell me, neighbours, is it so or not?

de, or (since apparently mishapHas lost the true beginning of it) scrap,

5And thou shalt have app‘ ed the houshold G ods and thegreedyFat.with fraukincense andfrsits of this year

’s growth.

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23 4

That is,”quoth margin of the De ] bin tome,

Domi potabis—you shall drink at on e ;

Ho e vina quidem bibcs apud to,Says note, non ita w e apud me.

Ca te,” it ad as P liny understood,

The knight’s own wine was exquisitely sock

”

G ood, to be sure, tho’ P liny had been dumb ;

But howdoes all that has been said c’ercon e

The contradiction i—W hy, with this asshtance,’Tis plain they supp

’d together—at a distance .

One easy hint, without such awkward stirs,Dis olves at once the difficulty, airs,LetHorace drinkhimself of his own VitamiVile porn o modicis Sabr

‘

aum‘

r QCanth

’ris— andMarceau do so too

Ih bibas c ubum —and all is true.

No verbal hissing spoils poetic grace,Nor contradiction stares ye in the face ;But verse intention, without farther toursI’Ildrinkmywine, Mommas—and you yo

Should not alljudges of Horatian letterOr take this reading, or propose a better?

A LETTER TO R. L. ESQ.

If Ssnnsmo do but rift0 Caro, euro! thatj latfifih?

’

I’d hang if o’er an

DEAR P eter, if thou canst descend

From RODELIND to hear a friend,And if those ravish

’d ears of thine

Can quit the shrill celestialwhine

Thesewines thou shalt drink at thy own house,but such thou canstnot have atmin .

t Iwill drinkweak Sabinewine in littlecups.t'

l‘

hou shalt drinkc ubanwine.

Of gentle eunuchs, and sustainThy native Enlishwithout pain,I would, if

’t en

’

t too great s burden,Thy ravish

’d ears intrude a word in.

To Richard’

s and to Tom’s ful l oft

Have I stept forth, O’squire of Toft,

In hopes that I might win, perchance,A sight of thy sweet coun tenance ;Forth have I stept, but stil l alas!Richard

'

s or Tom’a,

-

’

twas all a case ;Stil l met I with the same replySaw you sir P eterW— “No, not 1 .

Being at length no longer ableTo bear the diq ialtrissyllable,Home I retir’d 1n saunt

’ring wise,

And inward turning allmy eyes,To seek thee in the friendly breast,W here thou hast made a kind of nest,The gentle muse I

’

gan invoke,And thus the neck of silence

‘

broka

Mat !” quoth I, treading on her toes,Thou sweet companion of my woes,

That'

whilom wont to ease my care,And get me nowand then—a hare

W hy am I thus depriv’d the sight

Both of the alderman andknight?Tellme, O tel l me, gentle muse,W here is Sir P eter, where is Clam ?”

W here your friend J oseph is orReply

’d Melpomene,“L ord knows ;

And what place is the fairest bidderFor the knight

’s presence

— let’s consider

Yourwandering steps you must refer to

Rehearsal, op’ra, or concerto;

At one or other of the three

You’ll find him most undoubtedly.

Now, P eter, if the muse says true,To allmy hopes I bid adieu ;Adieumy hOpes, if op

’ramany

Ht s seia’donP eter’s .pericraaiQ

Drunkwith Italian p .

Nay then, in troth, up:

The man’s a quack, whoe’er pretends he

Can cure him of that fiddling phrensy.

THE P OETASTER.

WHEN a poet, as poetry goes nowa days,Takes it into his head to put in for the bays,W ith an old book of rhymes, and a half pint ofTo cherish his brain, mounted up to hi gas

-rot,

Down he sits,with his pen, ink'

, andpaper before

And labours as hard—as hismother that bore him.

Thus plac’d, on the candle be fixes his eyes,

And upon its bright flame he looks wonderful 117Then snufiing it close, he takes hold of his pen,And, the subject not starting, he snufi

'

s itw ;

Tillperceiving at last that not one single thought,For allhis wise looks, willcome forth as it ought,W ith a bumPer of wine he emboldens his blood,And prepares to receive it, whenever it should.

Videlicet, first, he invokes the nine muses,Or some one of their tribe for his patroness choosesThe girl, to be sure, that, of all the long Nominee,Best suitswith his rhyme—as for instance, Melpomene.Andwhat signifies then this old bard-beaten whim?W hat’s he to the muses, or th’ muses to him?"

W h the hua’ncas is this—the poor man, lackos -day!At first setting out, don

’t knowwellwhat to say.

Then he thinks of P arnassus, andHelicon streams,And of old mustybards mumbles over the names ;Talks much to h1mselfof one P he buaApollo,Anda parcel of folks that in

’s retinue follow;

Ofa horse nam’d P egasus, that had twowings,Ofmountains, and nymphs, and a hundred fine thi s

'

;Tho

’withmountains,andstreams,andhis nymphs of armThe man, after all, isbut just.

where hewas.

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23 8

Making still such remarks as ourwisdom thought prW here things were bit off in wooli, canvas, or mpg?W hen at length about noon,Mr. Auctioneer Col ,

W ith his book and his hammer, mounts into his box ;Lot the first— number one - then advanced his uphokkrW ithMalebranchee—So Atlas bore Heaven on hismoulds .

Then my heart, sir, —it went pit-spat, in good sooth,To see the sweet face of the searcher of M r?Ha!” tho ht I to myself, if it cost me a million,This right onest head, then, shall grace my pavilion.

”

Thus stood Lo'

r run n ear both in number and worth,If pictures were priz

’d for the men they set forth.

I’m sure, to my thinking, compar’d to this number

Most lots in the room seem’d to be but more lumber.

The head then appearing, Cox left us to see't,

And fel l to discoursing concerning the feet ;So long, and so broad.

-’Tis a very fine bend!

P lease to enter it, gentlemen”—was all that be

Had I been in his place, not a stroke of a hammerTill the force had been tried both of rhet

’rickand gru nt.

A ver fine head!” —had th bead been as fine,Allthe eads in the house ha veil’d bonnets to thine

,

Not awordwhose itwas—but, in short,’twas a head

P ut it upwhat you please.

” 80 somebodysaid.Half a p1ece

”—and so on. For threepounds and s‘

otownTo sum up my good fortune, I fetch

’d h1m me down.

Therewere three or fourbidders,—Icannot tellwhetherBut they never could come two upon me together ;For as soon as one spoke, then immediately po

st)

I advanc’d somethingmore, fear the hammer oulddrap.

I consider’d, should Cox take awhim of a suddenWhat a hurry itwould puta man

’s Lance-shire blood ia'

Once—dwice—three pounds, five”—So, nemine con .

Came an absolute rap, and thrice happywas J ohn.

Who bo ht it?”quoth Cox. Here’s the money,”

uoth

Stillwilling to inake the securest replyAnd the safest receipt that a body can trust,

preventing disputes, is Down with your dust!”

t Hewrote a treatise called A Search afterTruth.“

23 8

So I bought it, and paid for’t ; andboldly Isay,

’Twas the best purchasemade at Cadogan’s that day;

The works the man wrote are the finest in nature,

And a most cleverpiece is his genuine portraiture .

For the rest of the pictures, and how theywere sold,To others, there present, I leave to be told.

They seem’dfl to go off, as at most other sales,

J ust as tolks’ money, judgment, or fancy prevaih;Some cheap, and some dear. Such an image as thi

C otnes a trifle to me : and an odd wooden SwissW ench

’s bead—(G odknowswho) —forty- eightguineas, if

G race of Marlborough likes it - ao fancy will difi'

er.

W hen the bus’nesswas o’er,and the'

crowdsomewhat'

gone,W hip into a coach I convey number one.

Drive alon honest friend, fast as e’er you can pin.

So he did, and’tis now safe and sound at G ray’s Inn ;

Done at P aris, it says, from the life by one 6 5 3 7 ;W ho that was I can‘

t tel l, but Iwish .his heartmerryIn theyear ninety-eight

— sixty just from the birth]Of the greatest divine that e

’erliv

’d upon earth.

And now, if some eveningwhen youare at leisure;You

’ll come and rejoice with me over my treasure,W ith a friend or two with you, thatwill in free sortLet us mix metaphysicks and short-hand andport,W e

’ ll talk of his book, or whTake aglaés, read, or write, aswe see we’reinclin’d.

Such fr1ends and such freedom —W hat can be more clever?Huzza!t snMansnam cn s AND snon

'

r- naxn son Evan!

Miscellaneous P ieces,CONSISTING os

'

THOUGHTS ON vanrovs

,EP IG RAMS, are.

TIME that is past thounever canst reeal;Of time to come thouart not sure at all;Time present only is within th paw

’t ;

Now, nowimprove, theo, w thena nd ;

3 40

SET not the faults of other folks in view,

But rather mindwhat thou thyself shouldn doFor, twenty errors ofthy neighbour knownW il l tend but little to reform thy own.

SAFER to reconcile a foe, thanmakeA conquest of him for the conquefl

’s lake

This tu nes his pom’r of doing present ill,

But that disarm him of the very will.

TO give re roof in anger, to be sure,

Whate’er the suit, is not the we to cure

W ouldawise doctor od'

er, dost ou think,The sick his potion scalding hot to drink?

A G RACEFUL manner, and a friendly ease

W ill give a No,”and not at alldisplease ;

And an ill-natur’d or ungraceful Yam

”,

When it is giv’n, is taken much amiss.

BUT small the difi’rence, if Tertullian

’s right,

To do an injury, or to requite ;He is,

”an dhe, who does it to the other,

But somewhat sooner wicked than his brother

1

MY reason is I, and your reason is You,And, if we shalldih

'

or, both cannoth true

If reason must judge, and We two must agree,Another third reasonmust give the decree,Superior to ours; and towhich, it is fit,That both, beingweaker, should freely submitNow in reason submitting, is plainly impliedThat it does not pretend, of itself, to decide.

IN truths that nobody can miss,It is theQuid that makes the Quis ;In such as lie more deeplyhid,It is tt sis thatmskesmeM .

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242

But who pretender is, orwho is king,G od bless us all—that

’s quite another thing.

on THE

NATURALIZ ATION BILL!

COME '

allye foreign strolling gentry,Into G reat Britain make your entryAbjure the P ope, and take the oaths,And you shall have meat, drink, and clothes.

ON THE SAME.

W ITH languages diapere’d, men werenot able

To top the skies, and build the tow’r of Babel ;

But if to Britain they shallcross themain,And meet by act q

‘

f,parliament again,W ho knOWs, when all together shal l repair,How high a castle may bebuilt

'in air!

ON THE SAME .

THIS act reminds me, ge’men, under favhnfi,

‘

Of old J ohn Bull, the hair-merchant and shaver :J ohn had a sign put up, whereof the writingW as strictly copied from his own inditing :Under the painted wigs both bob andfull—Moaetmusing padefor living HERE

ADVERTISEMENT uroai ran sans .

NOW upon sale, a bankrupt island,To any stra or thatwill buy landThe

'

birthrig note, for further satisFaction, is to be

'

thrown in gratis.

243

ON P RIOR’

s SOLOMON.

AN EP IG RAM.

W ISE Solomon, with all his rambling doubts,M lgb

'

t talk two hours, I guess, or thereabouts ;And yet,

”quoth he, my elders, to their shame,

Kept silence all, nor answer did they frame.

”

Dear me!what else but silence should they keep?He

, to be sure, had talk’d them allasleep.

E P IG RAM

ON THE

P etals between Hiandeland Bononcini.

SOME say, compar’d to Bononcini,

That Mynheer Handel’s but a ninny;

Others aver, that he to HandelIs scarcely fit to hold a candle :Strange allthis difference should be,’Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee!

AN ANECDOTE.

THE French Ambassador had been towaitO n J ames the First, in equipage of

“

state

Bacon was by; to whom the king began

W el l now, my lord, what thinkyou of the man?”

He’s a tallproper person, sir, said he

Aye,”said the king, that any one may see ;

Butwhat d’ye think of head- piece in the case?

Is he a proper person for his place?”

My lord, who thought hewas not, I suppose,G ave him this answer, as the story goesTallmen are oft like hom es that are tall

The upper rooms arefurniah’d worst of all.

244

BONE and Skin, two mil lers thin,W ould starve us all, or near it

But be it known to Skin and Bone,

That Flesh and Blood can’t bear it. ’

EP IG RAM .

CE SAR P ompeium vicit -

quts Nominal Quin tnAccipe quam fuerit Fama, J acobe, nihil .

Caesar, id est Victor ; V ictor quoque Ce sar; eundem

Fama hominem binis Vocibus ergo notat:

Sic etiam ceu P ompeium tu dicere mavis,Ceu victum, Res est unica, Verba duo

Sensus idem nobis, id enim Nos novimus unum

Quod quivis quendam vicerit—hicHONOR est!

IN CALVUM .-Epigram.

5“ P RIMUS in Orbe Deos fecit Timor” - Hec mihi, Cal/Est ubi de Sacris Quaestio, vociferas

Cum fueris tute ipse hominum timidissimus, _

unde est,Improbe, quod dubites an sit ubique Deus?

The wit of this epigram was pointed at the father of J udge Y—m l f

and a Mr. D - wu u two tallmeagre men,who were trustees of the chs’

rity-school,at Manchester : for the support ofwhich school three mill!

were left. As all the town had a right in this school,all the town wereto grind their corn at thesemills. The town , however, grew too pepu

lous for the mills ; and yet the concientious trustees wanted to prevent

the inhabitants from grinding their corn any where else. 8 00 page 3 3

TRANSLATIONS.

Ce sar vanquished P ompey -What great names!But do thou,hear how fame shall be nothing : Caesar,that is the Conqueror ; the

gueror also Caesar ; fame therefore denotes the same man by twowords.0 likewise

, whether thouwouldst rather say P ompe or the m inds] :cd, the thing is one

, the words two. The sense is e same to us, forwe knowthis circumstance only that acertainperson conqueredanotherhere 18 the HONOUR .

Fear first made gods in the world” - This question about religion :thou, Calvus, dost sometimes bawl out before me. But since thou hastthyselfbeen one of the most fearful of men, whence is it, villain, thatthou doubtestwhether G od be in every place?

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246

In Madidam Memoriam“ J ohanm'

sHarrington ,Equitil As s t

-2m m, bajases Colleg uolim Commsnssus.

To theb dswdmunorypfl ohnnarflngtmn Sikk im M am d dfi mflp

AN EP ITAP H.

STAY,Traveller, the Barringtou lies here, who left us poormortals

to bewail his loss, J une 24, 1713 .

He was a philosopher of the P lat-m ic sect ; so true a friend, that there

never was any but would let him into their secrets at the first acquaintance. Hewas a man ofmetal, and feared no colours but M tHe kept compan with learned men, and was a good critic himself,

especial] at the til ing up dt'

i mHiatus. He could en ter into the heatofan an or immediately. He dealt much infragments . Hewas an excellent hysician,and could give aman a stoolor a vomit, a cordialoraslee y ose,just as aman

’s body required it. He understood anatomyso

wel that he could dissect a man alive, and trace through every partu d

yet never hurt him. Aswell as he was skilled in optics, he never madeuse of any glasses. He was a jeweller, and has adorned many amwith carbuncles of his own makin

a confounded large mouth and ears,but scarce any of his othermes-bus

pt

er

l

'

lfectm not above four feet high, and yet many a one has died for love

0 1m.

He had such an ingenious way ofreprimandingaman that ifhehityolin the teeth with a thing, you would not take It ill. He was a con icalblade enough ; had no eyes himself, but would have made thee stare. Hehad never a hand, yet would have knocked thee down . Sometimeshthad a head

,and sometimes none ; and when he had, what is falselyre

orted of a certain saint is true of him, that he carried it in his mouthen he was drunk he had not a drop ofliquor lubim,quite contrary}!

other men. He wouldoften change his inside, but never his outside. 1could tell thee more wonders, traveller, but thou art puzzled m ay.In short, he had that in him,

which thouwouldst W ish to have in that.and so fare thee well.

1 arm and hssd—a hoha id havelimd it full to hismouth

END VOLUME FIRST.

MISCELLANEOUS

QB QB GB J fl é .

BY J OHN BYROM, M . A. P . R. S.

a n un rELLOW or TRINITY COLLEG E,CAMBRIDG E,AND " tu m ors

0 1”THE UNIVERSAL ENG LISH SHORT‘HAND.

TO WHICHARE ADDED HIS LIFE AND NOTES BY THE EDITOR!

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL II.

LEEDS

P rinted by andfor J ames Nicholr,

I IOLD IN LONDON, Bv CRADOCK AND J ov, G ALE, CURTIS AND PMin ) BAYNES ; BY WILSON ANp SON, YORK ; J . CUMN ING , DUBLIN ; J .

AND J . ROBERTSON, EDINBURG H ; FORD, MANCHESTER ; KAYE.LIVERP OOL ; HARTLEY, ROCHDALE ; TURNER, HULL;

BLACKBURN, DARLING TON ; STANFIELD,

BRADFORD ; NICHOLSON, CAMBRIDG E ;

SUGDEN. HALIFAX ; AND OTHER

BOOKSELLERS.

1814.

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AN

Epistle to a G entleman of the Temple,

OCCASIONED BY

Two Treatises,wherein the FallofMan is difi

'

erently represented, viz.

I. MR . LAW ’S SP IRIT OF P RAYER .

II. THE BISHOP OF LONDON’S AP P END IX .

Shearing that,according to the plainest sense of Scripture, the

Nature of the Fall is greatly mistaken in the latter.

this poetical letter our author very ingen iously shewst he absurdityof saying that the execution of the sentence denounced against

the breach of the command given to Adam in innocence, did not

immediately follow his transgression of that law; but that it was

graciously respited, and not executed till the day of his natural

death!” He tells us that Adam lost all spiritualand heavenly lifein the very momen t of his sinn ing. When he goes beyond this,andbegins phiIOSOphically to describe what that vast space, far as the

orb of our created day,” was before its being converted, by Divine

P ower, into a habitation for human beings, he falls into one of the

wonderfuldepths of Behmenism, and his account becomes irrational

and nuscriptural.

SIR, upon casting an attentive lookOver your friend, the learned Sherlock

’s, book,

One thing occurs about the FALL OF MAN,

That does not suit with the Mosaic plan ;Nor gives us fairly, in its full extent,The scripture doctrine of that dire event.

W hen tempted Adam, yielding to deceit,P resum

’d of the forbidden tree to eat,

The Bishop tells us, Tha t he did n ot die

P ray wil l you askhim, Sir, the Reason why?VOL. 11. B

2

W hy hewould contradict the sacred text,W here death to sin so surily is annex

’d?

The day thou eatest”

- are the words, .you know;And et, by his account, it was not so

Deathdid notfollow, tho’it surely would

Howwill he make this hardy comment good?

Sentence, says he , was respited—But, pray,

W here does the Scripture such a saying say?

W hat word, that means to respite or revoke,

Appears in all that G od or Moses sppke?

It will be said, perhaps, now it appearsThat Adam liv’dabove nine Hundred yearsAfter his fall” —True - But what life was that?

The very death, Sir, which his fal l begat.The Life, whichAdam was created in,W as lost the day, the instant ofhis sin.

J ust as the rebel angels, when they fell,W ere dead to Heav’

n, altho’ alive to Hel l ;8 0 Man, no longer breathing heav

’nly breath,

Fel l to this life, and died the Scripture Death.

W hile in the state of innocence he stood,He was all living, beautiful, andgoodBut when be fed on the forbidden fruit,W hereof corruption was the latent Root,He died to P aradise, and, by a birth

That should not have been rais’d, he liv

’d to earth;Fall into bestial flesh, and blood, and bones,Amongst the thorns and briars, rocks and stones.

That which had cloth’d him, when a child of light,W ith all its lustre, was extinguish

’d quite ;

Naked,asham’d, confounded, and amaz

‘

d,W ith other eyes, on other scenes he gaz

’d.

Allsensibility of heav’nly bliss

Departing from him—what a Deathwas this!

His soul , indeed, as an immortal fire,Could never die, could never not desireBut, Sir, he had,what glorious angels claim,

A heav’nly spirit, and a heav

’nly frame ;

Form’d in the likeness of the Sacred THREE,

He stood immortal, powerful, and free ;

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A creature of this world; when first he fe ll,Thanks to Divine Foregoodness

- not to hell,But to this earth— this state oftime and place,W here, dead by Nature, man revives by G race ;W here, tho

’ his outward systemmust decay,His inward ripens to eternal day ;P uts oif th

’OldAdam, and puts on the New ;

And having found thefirst sad sentence true,Nowfinds the truth ofwhat the second said,The woman’

s Seed shall bruise the serpent’s head.

Again— to urge the instance that I gave,

Attend we this good Bishop to his graveThe priest comes forth to meet the sable hearse,And then repeats the well-appointed verso ;Verse, one would think, that might decide the StrifeI AM THE Rssoaascrlon AND THE LIFE

W hat life is that,which J ESUS is and gives,In and by which the true believer lives?That of this world?Then were it must absurdTo a dead Bishop to apply the word.

’Tis thatwhich human nature had before ;W hich being Christ

’s, Christ only can restore.

W hatmean ing is there, touching the deceas’d,

Now from the burden of theflesh releas’d,

But that his soul is going to be cladW ithheavenly flesh and blood, whichAdam had,Before he enter

’d into that which P aul

Body of death" might very justly call?A flesh and blood, that, as he hints elsewhere,Not born from Heav

‘

n, can never enter there

Mass of this world, whose kingdom Christ disclaim“,

The life whereof is but a life so nam’d ;

A life ofanimaland insect breath,Which, in a man, is rightly styl

’d a death.

Thus, Sir, throughout the Burial Ofiice run,

You’llfind that it roceeds as it begun.

Read any ofiice ptism, ifyouwil lFrom first to last, you

’ll find. the reason still,W hy any, orwhy allof them are read;Reason ofallthat’s either sung or said!

5

Is by this one great solemn truth explain’d,

Of life in Adam lost, in CHRIST regain’d

Lost at thefall— not at the end ofyears

That Adam labour’d in this vale of tears,W hen death thro’ Christ was happy,

’tis presum

’d,And vanquish

’d that to which he first was doom’d.

Doom’

d— not by any act ofwrath in G odA pointwherein the Bishop seems to nod.

No death rofpure, of tainted life no pain,DidHis severe inflictingwill ordain .

He is allglory, goodness, light, and love,L IFE that from Him no creature can remove;But from itself it may, as Adam did,Ifit.wil l choose what light and love forbid.

Truly forewarn’d ofwhat would truly be,

His life was poison’d by the mortal tree :

He ate— hefell— he died —’tis all the same ;

O ne loss of life under a triple name.

No test was made, by positive command,Mere] to try ifhe would fall or stand,L ike t at— the serpentine Satanic snare

O fwhich the man was hidden to beware.

“Eat not thereof, or thou wilt surely die,W as spoken to prevent, and not to try ;To guard the man against his subtle foe,W ho sought to teach him what ’

twas death

Death tohis pristine , spirit-life divine,

And separation from its sacred shrine ;The pure, unmix

’d, incorruptible throne,

W herein G od’s image first embodied shone .

Tho’ for‘

m’d to rule the new created scene,

Built from the Chaos ofa former reign ;To bring the wonders of this world to view,

And ancient glories to an orb renew;He also had, - as being to command

See and be seen, in this new- formed land,This intermediate temporary life,W here, on ly, good and evil are at strife,Outward corporeal form, whereby he saw,

know.

Andheard, and spoke, and gave to allthings law;B 2

6

They none to him—His far superi or mindW as, as he pleas

’d, united or disjoin

’d

So far united, that allgood was gain’d ;

So far disjoin’d, that evilwas restrain

’d

It could not reach him— for, before his fall,Nothing could hurt this human lord of all;No more than Satan or the serpent could,If in his first creation he had stood.

Suchwas his blest estate—wherein is foundOfAdam

’

s happy ignorance the ground.

His outward body and each outward thing,Fromwhence alone both good and ill could spring,Could notaffect, while he was free from sin,The life of the celestial man within .

G lorious condition ! W hich, howe’er, imply

’d

That man, at first plac’d in it, must be try

’d :

Not from G od’s will or arbitrary voice ;

His trial follow’d from his pow

’r of choice

G odwill’d him that , himselfwas to revwill,And the Divine Intentions to fulfilTo use his outward body as a means,W hereby to raise in time and place the scenes

That should restore the once angelic orb,And all its evil, introduc

’d, absorb.

Evil, that, prior to the fall ofman,Fromhim, whose name in Heav

’n is lost, began.

Moses has plain ly hinted at the fiend,W hose malice in a borrow’

d shape was ,screen’d,

W ho, under reason’s plausible disguise,

Taught our first parents to be worldlywSucceeding lights have risen up to shewOfG od andman, more openly, the foe.

He, once a thron’dArchangel, had the sway

Far as this orb ofour created day ;*

W here then no sun .was wanted to give light,No moon to cheer yet undiscover

’d night;

0 Is not this account ofa ik r his fall and the course 1!'

tEsP ecies ofwinder; 3 150“ that “5i j.a imed in the 3

°

e

gcesof l ,

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8

Began, endow’d with his Creator’s pow

’rs

That nothin could resist, to call them Ours ;To spread thro’ his wide ranks the impious term ,

And they their leader’s doctrine to confirm ;

Then self, then evil, then apostate warReg

’d thro’their hierarchywide and far ;

K indled to burn, what they esteem’d a rod,

The meekness and subjection to a G od.

Resolv’d to pay no hymning homage more,

Nor, in an orbit of their own , adore ;

Allright ofHeav’n’s Eternal King abjur

’d,

They thought one re'

on to themselves secur’d ;One out of three, w ere Majesty DivineShone in its glorious Outbirth Unitrine ;Shone andwill shine eternally, altho’

Angels or men the shining bliss forego.

Straight, with this proud imagination fir’d,To self-dominion strongly they aspir

’d;Bent alltheir wil ls, irrevocably bent,To bring about their devilish intent.How ought we mortals to beware ofpride,That such great angels could so far misguide !

No sooner was this horrible attempt,From all obedience to remain exempt,P ut forth to act, but instantly thereonHeav

’n, in the swiftness of a thought, was gone ;

From love’s beatifying pow

’r estrang

’d,They found their life, their bliss, their glory chang

’d.

That state, wherein they were resolv’d to dwell,

Sprung from their lusting, and became their Hell.

Thinking to rise above the G od ofAllThe wretches fell, with an eternal fallIn depths of slavery, without a shelfThere is no st0p in self- tormenting self.

J ust as a wheel, that’s running down a hill

W hich has no bottom, must keep running stil l,So down their own procl ivity to wrong,Urg

'

d by impetuous pride, theywhirl along ;Their own dark, fiery, working spirits tend

Farther from G od, and farther to descend.

9

He made no Hell to place his angelsThey stirr

’d the fire that burnt them, by their sin ;

The bounds ofnature and of order broke,And all the wrath thitt follow

’d them awoke.

Their own disorder’d raging was their pain ;Their own unbending harden

’d strength their chainz;Renouncing G od, with their eternal might;They sunk their legions into endless night.

Meanwhile the glorious kingdom, where they dwelt,Th

’effect of their rebellious workings felt;

Its clear materiality, and pure,C ould not the force ofraging fiends endure ;Its elements, allheav

’nly in their kind

In one harmonious system when combin’d,

W ere now disclos’d, divided, and Opaque ;Their glassy sea became a stormy lake ;The height and depth of their angelic worldW as nought but ruins upon ruins hurl

’

d.

C haos arose, and, with its gloomy sweepOf dark

’ning horrors, overspread the deep;

Allwas confusion, order all defac’d,

Tohu, and Bohu, the deformed waste. 1'

Till the A lmighty’s gracious fiat came,

And stopp’d the spreading of the hellish flame ;

P ut to each fighting principle the bar,And calm

’d, by just degrees, th

’ intestine war.Light, at His word, th

’abating tempest cheer

’d;

Earth, sea, and land, sun, moon, and stars appear’d;

Creatures of ev‘

ry kind, and food for each

And various beauties clos’d the various breach

Nature’s six properties had each their day,

L ost Heav’n , as far as might be, to display

And in the sev’nth, or body of them all,

To rest from— what they yet must prove—a fall.

How does this agree with the following portion of Scripture ?

D epart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire,preparedfor the D evil

md his angels.” MAT. xxv. 41 .

1 anh ,tohu vabohu, without form, and void. G an . i. 2.

10

For had not this disorder’d chaos been

Had not these angels caus’d it by their sin ;

Nor had compacted earth, nor rock, nor stone,Nor gross materiality been known .

All that in fire or water, earth or air,May now their nox ious qualities declare,Is as unknown in Heav

’

n as sin'

or crime,And only lasts for purifying timeTil l the great end, for which we allcame here,Til l G od

’s restoring goodness shall appear.

Then, as the rebel creatures’ false desireAwak’d 1n nature the chaoticfire.So when Redeeming Love has found a race

Of creaturesworthy of the beav’uly place,

Then shall anotherfire enkindled rise ,And purge from ill these temporary skies

P urge from the world its deadness and its dross,And of lost Heav’

n recover all the loss.

W hy lookwe then with such a longing eye

On what this world can give us or denyOf man and angel laps

’d the sad remains?

It has its pleasures— but it has its pains.

It has, (what speaks it, wouldwe but attend,Not our design

’d felicity) an end.

Sons of eternity, tho’ born on earth

There 13 within us a celestial birth

A life that waits the efi'

orts pf our mind,To raise itselfwithin this outward rind.

This huskof ours, this stately stalking clod,Is not the body that we have f1 om G od ;Of good and evil ’t is the mortal crust,

Fruit of Adamical and Eval lust ;Bywhich the man, when beav

’nly lifewas ceas

’

d,Became a helpless, naked, biped beastForc

’d, on a cursed earth, to sweat and toil,

To brutes a native ,H im a foreign , soil;And, after allhis ears employ

’d to knowThe satisfactions ol

ya life so low,

Nine hundred, or nine hundred thousand, past,Another death to come, and hell at last

- But for that newmysterious birth of lifeThat P romis

’d Seed toAdamand his wife

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12

To shun the tree, the knowledge, whose sad leav’a

W ould quench in him the light and life of Reav’a ;

Strip him of that angelica] array,‘Vhich thro

’ his outward body spread the dayKept it from ev

’ry curse of sin and shame,

From all those evils that had yet no name

That prov’d, alas when he would not refrain,

The loss ofAdam’s proper life too plain.

W ho can suppose that G od would e’er forbid

To eat what would not hurt him ifhe did ;Fright his lov

‘

d creature by a false alarm ;Ormake what, in itself, was harmless harm?

0 howmuch better he fromwhom I draw,

Tho’ deep, yet clear his system,- Master LAW

Master” I call him not that I incline

To pin my faith on any one divine ;But, man or woman,whosoe

’er it be,

That speaks true doctrine, is a P ope tome.W here truth alone is interest and aim,

W ho would regard a person or a name?

Or, in the search of it impartial, scoff

Or scorn the meanest instrument thereof?

P ardon me, Sir, for having dar’d to dwell

Upon a truthalready told so well ;Since difl’

rent ways of tel ling may excite,In difl

’rent minds, attention to what

’s right ;

And men— I measure by myself— s ometlmes,Averse to reas

’ning, may be taught by rhimes ;

Ifwhere one fails, theywil l not take ofl’

ence

Nor quarrel with the words, but seek the sense.

Life, death, and such- like words, in scripture

Have certain ly a higher, deeper ground,Than that of this poor perishable ball,W hereon men doat, as if itwere their allAs if they were like Warburtonian J ews,Or, Christians nam

’d, had stil l no higher views ;As if their years had never taught them sense

Beyond It is allone a hundredhence.”

’Twas of such worldl ings that our Saviour said

To one ofhis disciples, Let the dead

13

Bury their dead : But do thoufollowme.He makes no more distinction, Sir, you see,

But that, with ref’rence to a life so

'

brute,The speaking carcases interr

’d the mute.

Life, to conclude,was lost in Adam’sfall,

W hich CHRIST, our Resurrection , will recallAnd, as death came into the world by sin ,W here one began, the other must begin .

Whywil l the learned sages use their art,From scripture truth, so widely, to depart?But, above all, a B ishop, grave and wise,Why will be shut, against pla in text, his eyes ;Not see that Heav’

n’s prediction never lied ;

That Adam fell by eating, sinn’d, and died

A real death, as much as loss of sight

Is death to ev’ry circumstance of light

Tho’a blind man may feel his way and grape,

Or for recover’d eyes he made to hope

W e might as wel l set glasses on his nose,And sight, from common helps of sight, suppose,As say,when Adam

’s heav’

nly life was kill’d,

That sentence was not instantly fulfill’d.

P ersuade your mitred friend, then, if you can,

To re-consider, Sir thefall of manTo see and own the depth of it ; because,’Till that is done, we may as well pick straws,As talk ofwhat, and who the serpent wasThat brought the fall,not understood, to pass.

One thing he was, Sir,— be what else he will

A critic, that employ’d his fatal skill

To cavi l upon words, and take awayThe sense of that which was asplain as day.

And thus the world, at present, by his wiles,Tho’

not in outward shape, he still beguilesSeeking to turn, by éomments lowand lax,The word of G od into a nose ofwax ;To take away the marrowand the p ith,Of all

'

that Scripture can present us with.

May Heav’n deliver,from his winding tours,

The Bishop, and us all I am, Sir, - Yours.

14

E N T H U S I A SM ,

P oetical Essay,

IN A LETTER TO A

'

FRIEND IN TOWN.

DEAR FRIEND,

I HAVE here sent you the verses ofwhichtdesired a copy. The book,

‘ that gave occasion to them,

treated the subjectwhereon theyaremade,in suchabrief,sensihk,and lively manner, as might wel l excite one to an attempt ofihnature. J ust and improving sentiments deserve to be placedin

any light that may either engage the attention of the reader, or

assist his memory; and verse, as I have found by experience,does both. For which reason, when I firstmetwith an accountofEnthusiasm so quite satisfactory, I chose to give it the drmwherein it nowappears before you.

Enthusiasm is grown intoa faslnonable termofreproach, that

usual ly comes uppermost, when any thing of a deep and serial!

nature is mentioned. W e apply it,throughan indolent oni on,to sober and considerate assertors ofimportant truths, as

as to wild and extravagant contenders about them. This indicriminate use of the word has evidently a bad effect ; it pudlel

the general indifl'

erency to matters of the highest concern into

downright aversion. The bestwriters upon the best subjectsanunattended to ; and the benefit accruing from their love and

their labours, is not perceived by us ; because we are hurriedon,by the idlest ofallprejudices, to condemn themwithout a read

ing, or to pronounce them to be unintelligible upon sucba sligllone, as can hardly be called an endeavour to understand that .

W e have heard it said, and have seen it printed, that they are

Enthusiasts ; and to avoid the imputation of that character, werun into it at second-hand, and adopt the rashness and injud ieeofimpetuous originals. W e take the stalest exclamations for

Mr. Law's Appealto allthat doubt, Arc.

" P age 3 05 .

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16

Ifthe desire be otherwise inclined, howlittle does it signifyto the main purpose ofwhat ingenuity, parts, or learning, ofwhat natural or acquired talents, men may be possessed?

So long as they have only light enough to hate light, they may,upon the first glimpse of it, retire into their earthliness , and

o

push

out theirworks as thick as mole-hills. But, in real ity, a single

page, proceeding from a right spirit, whose Enthus iasm theyalldespise, is worth a library of such produce .

In such a spirit I take the Appeal, to which the fol lowinglines are owing, to be wri tten ; and am persuaded, that if anysober-minded Deist, who is prejudiced against Christianity,be

cause he does not real ly knowwhat it is ; that if any Christian,so called, who has been led into mistakes about it, because hedoes not really know what it is not ; in fine, that if any one,

whose heart is so far convertedas to desire conversion , shouldhe

disposed to read it through, he would find his account in it; hewould be struckwith it, hewouldbe edified by it.

There is, apparently, something so solid and so animated,through thewhole of it ; such an impartial regard to truth,wherever it may be found, and such happy illustration of it,where it reall has been found, that I had some thoughts oftranslating it for t e use of Foreigners, believing that such a servicewouldbe acceptable to the more searchingandunbiassed dispositions amongst them,andalso help to fixmanyawakeningandcomfortable truths upon my own mind; which is the interest that Iwould propose to obtain by it. IfI shall findmyse lfcapable ofexecuting this design withjustice to the original, you shall bearfurther from me. In the mean time I have transcribed for on

these verses upon the incidental subject of Enthusiasm, as theywere first composedfor private recollection ; and, as I can relyupon your judgment concerning them better than I can u

my own, they are wholly submitted to your correction and

posal . I am,

Yours; &c.

J . B .

Manchester, September 3 , 1751.

17”

E N T HU S IA SM .

P oetical Essay.

FLY from Enthusiasm—It 1c the pest,Bane, poison , frousy, fury, and the rest.

”

This Is the cry that oft,when truth appears,Forb1ds attention to our l1st

’ning ears

C hecks our first entrance on the main concern,

W hen, stunn’d wnh clamour, we forbear to learn

M echanically catch the common. cant,

And fiy from— what we almost knowwe want

A deeper sense of something, that should setThe heart at rest, that never has done yet ;Some simpler secret, that, yet unreveal

’d,

Amidst contendmg systems hes conceal’d.

A book, perhaps, beyond the vulgar page,Removes at once the lumber of an age ;Truth is presented ; strikes upon our eyes ;W e feel conviction , and we fear surprise ;W e gaze, admire, dispute, and then the bawlFly from enthusiasm

’ —That ans“ers all.

N ow, ifmy friend has pat1ence to enquire,

Let us awhile from noisy scenes retire

L et us examine sense, as well as sound,And search the truth, the nature, and the ground.

’Tis will, imagination , and desire

Of thinking life, that constitute the fire,The force, by which the strong volitions drive,And form the scenes to whichwe are alive .

W hat? tho , unsprouted into outward shape,The points of thought our grosser sight escape

an. 11. C

Nor bulky forms in prominent armyTheir secret cogitative cause betrayOnce fix the will, and nature must begin

T’ unfold its active rudiments within ;Mind governs matter, and it must obey ;To all its op

’ning forms desire is key

Nor mind nor matter’s properties are lost,

As that shall mold this must appear emboss’d.

Imagination, trifling as it seems,B ig with efl

'

ects, its own creation, teems .

W e think our wishes and desires a play,And sport important faculties away.

Edg’d are the tools withwhichwe trifle thus ;

They carve out deep realities for us.

Intention, roving into nature’s field,

Dwells in that system which it means to build,Itselfthe centre of its wish’d- for plan ;For where the heart ofman is, there is man .

Ev’ry created, understanding mind

Moves as its own self-bias is inclin’d :

From G od’s free Spirit breathed forth to be,

It must ofall.

necess1ty.

be free ;Must have

,the pow

’r to kindle and inflame

The subject-matter of its mental aimW hether it bend the voluntary viewRealities or fictions to pursue.

W hether it raise its nature, or degrade ,

To truth substantial, or to phantom shade,Falshood or truth accordingly obtains ;That only, which it wills'

to gain, it gains

G ood, if the good he vigorously sought,And ill, if that be first resolv

’d in thought.

All is one good, that nothing can remo

W hile held in union , harmony, and love .

But when a selfish, separating prideW il l break allbounds, and good from good divide,’Tis then like a distant spark,And pride se lf-doom’d into 'its joyless dark.

The miscreant desire turns good to ill,In its own origin, the evilwillA fact, that fills allH1stories of old,That glares in proof, while conscious we beho ld

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20

P erchance, the rostrum—yea, the very woodW hereon this elevated genius stood,W hen forth on Catiline , as erst he spoke,The thunder ofQuousque tandem

" broke .

W ell may this grand Enthus iast derideThe dulness ofa pilgrim

’s humbler pr1de,

W ho paces to behold that part ofearth,,W hich to the Saviour of the ,

world gave birthTo see the sepulchre from whence He rose

Or view the rocks that rendedat His woes ;W hom P agan re lics have no force to charm,

Yet ev’n amodern crucifix can warm ;

The sacred signal, who, intent upon ,Thinks on the Sacrifice that hung thereon .

Another’s heated brain is painted o

’er

W ith ancientHieroglyphic marks of yore

He old EgyptianMummies can explain,And raise them up abnost to l ife again ;Can into deep antique recesses pry,And tell, ofall, the wherefore and thewhy;How this P hilosopher and that has thought,Believ’

d one thing, and quite another taught

Can rules of G recian sages long forgot,C lear up, as if they liv

’d upon the spot.

W hatbounds to Nostrum —a -Moses and the J ews,Observ’

d this learned legislator’s?views,

W hile Israel’s leader purpowconceal’d

Truths, which hiswhole economy reveal’d ;

No Beav’a disclos’d, but Canaan

’s fertile stage,

And nofor-ever,but a good oldW hilst the wel l untaught mopleji

e

ept in aweBy meanless types and unexplained law,

C icero begins his oration against Cntiline, in this an imated mansQuousque tandem abntére, Catilina, patientih nostra w fl

‘

,

length, 0 Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience?”

t In this description, ofwhat Was avowedly intended by The DivItegation ofHoses, the enthusiastic Dr. Warburton will be easily rec

arsed as this learned legislator.” See in Vol. I. page 62, the ensti

t1on which he received from our author in The C entaur Fabflous.

”

21

P ray’d to their loca l G od to grant awhile

Thefuture state, of corn, andwine, and oil;Til l, by a late captivity set free ,Their

'

destin’d error they began to see ;

Dropp’d the Mosaic scheme, to teach their youth

Dramatic J ob, and Babylonish truth.

To soar aloft on obeliskal cloudsTo dig down deep into the dark

— for shrouds ;To vex old matters, chronicled in G reek,W hile those of his own parish are to seek

W hat can come forth from such an antic taste,But a Clarissimus '

l' Enthusiast?

Fraughtwith discoveries so quaint, so new,

So deep, so smart, so Ipse (limit : true,See arts and empires, ages, books, and men,Rising, and falling, as hepoints the pen!

See frauds and forgeries,—if aught surpass,

Ofnobler stretch, the limits of his class,Not found within that summary of laws,Conjecture, tinsel

’d with its own applause.

W here Erudition so unblest prevails,Saints and their lives are legendary tales ;Christians, a brain - sick, visionary crew,

That read the B ible with a Bible- view,And thro’

the letter humbly hope to traceThe livingW ord, the Spirit, and the G race.

It matters not, whatever he the state

That full -bent will and strong desires create ;W here

’er they fall, where

’er they love to dwel l,

They kindle there their Heaven, or theirHell

The chosen Scene surrounds them as their own ,All else is dead, insipid, or unknown .

However poor and empty be the sphere,’Tis All, if inc lination centre there

Its own Enthusiasts each system knows,Down to lac

’dfops, and powder

-sprinkled beaux .

t Most famous He hath said.

22

G reat wits, affecting. what they cal l, to think,That, deep

- immers’

d in speculation, sink,Are great Enthusiasts, howe

’er refin

’

d,W hose brain -bred notions so inflame the M ind,That, during the continuance of its heat,The s ummum bonum t 1s— its own conceit.

Critics, with all their learning recondite,P oets, that, sev

’rally be

-mused, write ;The Virtuosos, whether great or small ;The Connoisseurs, that know the worth ofall;P hilosophers, that dictate Sentiments,Andpoliticians, wiser than events ;

Such, and such l ike, come under the same law,

A ltho’their heat be from a flame of straw;

Altho’ in one absurdity they chime,To make religious entheasm a crime.

Endless to say how many of their trade

Ambition, pride, and self- conceit have made.

If one, the chief of such a num’rous name,

Let the great scholarjustify his claim.

Self- love, in short, wherever it is found,Tends to its own enthusiastic ground;W ith the same force that goodnessmounts above,Sinks, by its own enormous weight, self love.

By this the wav’ring libertine is press

’d,

And the rank Atheist totally possess’d.

Atheists are dark Enthusiasts indeed,W hose fire enkindles like the smoking weedL ightless anddul l the clouded fancy burns,W ild hopes and fears stil l flashing out by turns.

Averse to Heav’n amid the horrid gleam,

They quest Ann ihilation’s monst

’rous theme,

On gloomy depths ofNothingness to pore,Till All be none, and Being be no more.

The sprightlier Infidel, as yet more gay,Fires off the next ideas in his way,The ends of ev

’ry obvious doubt;

And and blows for fear they should go out.

Boldly resolv’d, against conviction steel’d,

Nor inward truth, nor outward fact to yield;

t The chief good.

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W ith sage reserve not passing 0 er to good,Of time, lost time, are borne along the floodContent to think such thoughtless thinking right,And common sense enthusrastic flight.

Fly from Enthusiasm?” Yes, fly from air,

And breathe it more intensely for your care .

Learn, that, whatever phantoms you embrace,Your own essential property takes placeBend allyourwits against it,

— ’tis in vain ;

It must exist, or sacred, or profane.

For flesh or spirit, W isdom from above

Or from this world, an anger or a love,Must have its fire within the human soul’Tis ours to spread the circle, or control ;—In clouds of sensual appetites to smoke,W hile smoth’ring Lusts the rising conscience choke— Or, from ideal glimmerings to raise,Showy and faint, asuperficialblaze ;W here subtle reasonswith their lambent flames,Untoueh’d the things,

— creepround and round the names— Or with a true celestial ardour fir’d,Suchas at first createdman inspir

’d,

To will, and to persist towill the light,The love, the J oy, that makes an angel bright,That makes aman , in si

ght ofG od, to shine

W ith all the lustre ofa ife divine .

W hen true Religion kindles up the fire,W ho can condemn the vigorous desire?That burns to reach the end for which ’

twas giv’n,

To shine, and sparkle in its native Heav’n?

W hat else was our Creating Father’s view?

His image lost why sought He to renewW hy all the scenes of love that Christians know,

But to attract us from this poor Below?To save us from the fatal choice of ill,And bless the free co- operating will?

B lame notEnthusiasm, ifrightly bent ;Or blame ofSaints the holiest i ntent,

25

The strong persuasion, the confirm’d belief,Ofall the comforts ofa soul the chief,That G od

’s continual will andwork—to save,

Teach, and inspire,— attend us to the grave ;

That they, who in his faith and love abide,Find in his Spirit an immediate guide.

This is no more afancy, or awhim,

Than that we live, and move, and are in Him.

Let Nature, or let Scripture be the G round,Here is the seat of true Religion found.

An earthly life, as life itselfexplains,The Air and Spirit of this world maintainsAs plain ly does a heav

’nly lig

e declareA Heav’

nly Spirit, and a ho y air.

W hat truth more plainly does the G ospel teach,W hat doctrine all its missionaries preach,Than this, that ev’

ry good desire and thought

Is in us by the Holy Spiritwrought?’

For this the workingfitith prepares the Mind;Hope is expectant, Charity resign

’d.

From this blest guide the momentwe depart,W hat is there left to sanctify the heart?Reason andMorals?”— andwhere live they most?

In Christian Comfort, or in Stoic boast?

Reason maypaint unpractis’d truth exact,

And morals rigidly maintain no factThis is the pom

’r that raises them to worth,

That calls their rip’ning excellences forth.

Not ask for this?”— MayHeav’n forbid the vain,

The sad repose l—W hat virtue can remain?

W hatvirtue wanting, if, within the breast,This faith, productive ofallvirtue, rest,

That G od is always present to impartHis lightand Spirit to the willing heart?

He, who can say my wil ling heart beganTo learn this lesson,

” may be ehristen’dman

Before, a son of elements and earth

But now, a creature ofanother birth;W hose true regenerated soul revives,And life fromHim, that ever lives, derives ;vor. 11. D

Freed by compendious faith from allthe pangs

Of long-fetch’dmotives, andparplex

’d haraagues ;

One word ofpromise stedfastly embrac’d,

His heart is fix’d, its whole dependence plac’d

The hope is rais’d, that cannot but succeed;

In allibility is found indeed.

T en flows the love that no distinction

fk

o

nowsOfeyetm ,

‘

n ot, orparty, friends , or ea;

Nor loves by halves ; but, faithful to its call,Stretches its whole benevolence to all;

Its universal wish, th’angelic scene,

That G od within the heart ofman may reign ;The true Beginning to the final whole,OfBeav

’a and heav

’nly life within the soul .

This faith and this dependence once destroy’d,

Man is made helpless, and the G ospe l void.He that is taught to seek elsewhere for aid,Be who he will the teacher—is betray

’d

Be what it willthe system,he

‘

s enslav‘d ;

Man by man’s Maker only can be aav

’d.

In this One Fountain ofall help to trust,Wh at is more easy, natural, and jun?Talkwhatwe will ofmorals, and ofbliss,Our safety has no other source but this.

Led by this faith, when man forsakes his sin,The gate stands open to his G od withinThere, in the temple ofhis soul, is found,Of inward centi'al life the holy ground;The sacred scene ofpiety and peace,Where new-horn Christians feel the life’s increaseB lessing and blest, revive to pristine youth,Andworship G od in Spirit and in truth.

Had not the soul this origin, this root,W hat else were man but a two-handed brute?W hatbut a devil, had he not possess

’dThe seed ofHeav’

n, replanted in his breast?The spark of potency, the ray of light,His call, his help, his fitness to excite

“

Thestre th and vigour of celestial air,Faith, an - the breath of living Christians, -

pray’r?

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98

W hich art in Heaven” —assures a heav’nlybirthTo allhis loving children upon earth.

Hallowed be thy name.

Name is expressive ofa real thing,W ith all the pow

’re ofwhich it is the spring.

Thy name” is therefore to be understood

Th Blessed Self, thou Fountain of allgood!hallowed" — be lov’d, obey

’d, ador

’d,By inwardpray

’

r habitual ly implor’d.

Thykingdom come.

K ingdom—ofgrace at present, seed and root

Offuture glory’s everlasting fruit.

Thy kingdom”— not the world’s war- shifted scene

Ofpomp and shew, but love’s allpeaceful reign

Come”— rule~within our hearts by grace divine,Til l all the kingdoms of the world be thine.

Thywill be done in earth as it is in Heaven.

Thy wil l”to ev

’ry good that boundless pow

’rs

Can raise, ifwe conform to itwith ours.

Be done in earth,” where doing ofHiswill

P romotes all ood and overcomes all ill.

As’tis in eav

’n”—where all the blest above‘

Serve, with one will, the L iving Source of love.

G ive us this day our daily bread.

G ive 'ns” '

mplies dependence, whilst we live,lves, but what He wills to give.

This day”

cuts offall covetous desire

Ofmore and more, than real wants require.

Our daily bread”

-whatever we shall needAnd rightly use, to make it ours indeed.

Andforgive us our trespassesForgive

— betokens penitential sense,‘

And hope for pardon, ofconfess’

d offence .

Us” takes in all; but hints the special partOfev

’ry one to look to his own heart.

Our trespasses”

-which the forgiving grace,By our sincere conversion, must efl

‘

ace.

As weforgive them that trespass against us.

Aswe forgive”— because the fairest claim

T o mercy, pray’d for, is to shew the same.

A nd we, who pray, should allbe minded thus,T o pardon them that trespass against us.

W ithout forgiving, Christ was pleas’d to add

Our own forgiveness never can be had.

And lead us not into temptation .

Temptation rises in this world, the fieldO fgoodand evil, and incites to yield.

Lead us not into it" — becomes the voice

Ofallwho would not go to it bychoice ;W hose resignation, mix

’

dwith meek distrustOf their own strength, is more securely just.

But deliver usfrom evil.

But”when temptation will, of course, arise,The Hand that leads can minister supplies.Deliver us” - instructs the soul to place

Its firm reliance on protecting grace.

From evil”— from the greatest evil, sin,The only one not to be safely in.

For Thine is thekirygdom, the power, and the glory.

Thine is the kingdom- the essential right

To sov’reign rule, andmajesty, andmight.

Thine is the pow’r”to bless and to redeem;

All else is weak, whatever it may seem.

Thine is the glory”— manifestly found

In all thyworks, the whole creation round.

For ever and ever.

For ever”— from an unbeginning source,

A lmighty Love pursues its endless courseThroughallits scenes, Eternity displaysNewwonders to our Heav

’

nly Father’

s praise

King, Father, Leader, Judge,’

-His hallow’d nameW as, is, and ever wil l be stil l the same.

Amen .

Amen is “ truth,” in Hebrew and consent ;

To truth receiv’d,” by its long use, is meant.

I) 2

30

J ermain - H imself the Truth, the livingway,The Faithful W itness, —teaches thus to pray.

Again shouldwe be learning, andagain,Till life becomes a practical Amen.

”

D IVINE P ASTORAL .

THE Lord ismyShepherd, my G uardian, and G uide;W hatsoever I want he wil l kindly provide:Ever since I was born, it is he that hath crown

'

d

The life that he gave me, with blemi s all round

W hile yeton the breast a poor infant hung,Eré time had unlooSen

’d the strings ofmy tongue,

He gave me the helpwhich I could not then ask;Now therefore to thank him shall be my tongue

‘

s task,

Thro‘

my tenderest years, with as tender a care,

My soul, like a lamb, in his bosom he bare ;To the brook he would lead me, whene

’er I had need,

And point out the pasture where best“

I might'

feed.

No harm could approach me ; for he t smy shieldFrom the fowl! ofthe air, and the beasts bfthe fie ld ;The wolf

,todevour rns, would oftentimes‘pfiovfl,

But the Lord m e my Shepherd, and guarded my stuff.

How oft in myyouth have I~wander’d astray!

And stil l he hath brought me back to the right way !W hen, lost in dark error, nopath I could meet,His word, like a lantern, hath gnided feet.W hat wondrous escapes to his kindness oWe,W hen, rash and unthinking, I sought mymmMy soul had, long since, been gone down to the deep,If the Lord had not watched when I was esleg i .

W hensoe’er, at a distance, he sees me afraid,He skips o

’er the mountain, and comes to my aid;

Then leads me back gently, and bids me abideIn the midst ofhis flock, and feedclose by his side.

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3 2

Tho’ afraid, ofmyself, to pursue the darkway,Thy rod and thy staff be my comfort and stayFor

,I know, by thy guidance, when

‘

once it is pass’d,

To afountain of life it will bring me at last.

The Lord is become my salvation and songHis blessing shal l follow me allmy life longW hatsoever condition he places me in,I am sure

”tis the best it could ever have been

For, the Loam—he is good, and his mercies are sure ;

He only afflicts us in order to cure,

The Lordwill ] praise while I have any breath;Be content allmy life, and resign

‘

d atmy death.

THANKSG IVING HYMN .

O COME let us sing to the Lord a new song,And raise him to whom all our praises be long ;W hi e we enter his temple, with gladness and joy,Let a psalm of thanksgiving our voices employ0 come, to his name let us joyfully sing!

For the Lord is a great and omnipotent KingBy hiswordwere the heav

’ns and the host ofthem made,

And ofall the round world the foundation he laid.

He plac’d, in the centre, you beautiful Sun ;

And the orbs that, about him, due distances run ;To receive, as they haste their vast rounds to complete,Ofa lustre, so dazzling, the light and the heat.W hat language ofmen can the brightness unfoldOfHis presence, whose creature they cannot behold?W hat a light is His light!Ofits infinite dayThe sun by his splendour can paint but a.

ray.

The Sun, in the evening, is out of our sight,And the Moon is enlighten

’d to govern the night.

His powerwe behold, in yon high arched roof,

When the Stars, in their order, shine forth in its proof

3 3

W hile the works, so immense, ofthy fingers we see,

And reflect on our littleness, Lord, what are we?Yet, while

’tis our glory thy name to adore,

Even angels ofHeav’n cannot boast any more.

P raise the Lord, upon earth, allye nations and lands,Ye seasons and times, that fulfil his commands ;Let hisworks, in allplaces, his goodness proclaim,

And the people, who see them, give thanks to his name .

For the good, which He wil ls to communicate, brings

Into Visible form his invisible thingsTheir appearance may change, as his law shall ordain,But the goodness that formswil l for ever remain.

W hat a world ofgood things does allnature produce,W hich the Lord, in his mercy, hathmade for our use!

The earth, by his blessing bestow’d on its soil,

By his rain and his sunshine, gives corn, wine, and oil.

Let men to adore Him, then , thankful ly join,W hen fill

’

dwith his bread, or made glad by his wine ;As in wealth, so in gratitude, let them abound

And the voice ofHis praise be heard all the world round.

They, that o’er the wide ocean their bus’ness pursue,

Can tel l to his wonders what praises are dueW hen tost, to and fro, by the huge swel lingwave,They rise up to Heav

’n, or sink down to the grave ;

Dismay’dwith the tempest, that mocks at their skill,

They cry to the Lord, and he maketh it still .His works in remembrance, ye mariners, keep,And praise Him whosejudgments are like the great deep.

He stilleth the waves of the boisterous sea,And the tumul‘ts of men , more outrageous than they.

Thy goodness, O L ord, let the people confess,W hom wars do notwaste, nor proud tyrants oppress ;And devoutly contemplate thy wonderful ways,Thou that turnest the fierceness ofmen to thy praise

Then lands, ia' due season, shall yie ld their increase,And the Lordgive his people the blessings ofpeace.

The Lord is on high, far above all our thought

How then shal l_we worshiphim so as we ought?

W hat tongue can express, or what words can shewforthThe praise which is due to his excel lent worth?

3 4

Ye righteous, and ye that in virtue excel ,Begin the glad taskwhich becomes you so well ;The Lord shall be pleas

’d when he heareth'

your voice,And in his own works shall th’ Almighty rejoice.

The Lord hath his dwelling far out ofour view,

And yet humbleth Himself to beholdwhat we do ;To his works, allaround Him, hismercies extend,His works have no number, his mercies no end;He accepteth our thanks, if the heart do but pay ;Tho

" we never can reach Him, by allwe can say.

Howjust 18 the duty!Howpure the delight !Since whilstwe give praises we honour him right.

P raise the Lord, 0 my soul !All the pow’re ofmymim

P raise the Lord, who hath been so exceedingly ,kind!

W ho spareth my life and forgivethmy sin,Still directeth the way that I ought to,

walk inW hen I speak, let me thankHim ; whenever I write,The remembrance ofHim let the subject excite

'

G uide, Lord, to thy glory, my tongue and my pen

Yea, let ev’ry thing praise Thee

—Amen, and Amen.

H Y M N

on THE

DIVINE OMNIP RESENCE

Beinga P araphrase on P salm cxxxix . Verse 1m 12.

OH Lord!thou hast known me, and searchedme out,Thou seest, at all times, what I

’m thinking about

W hen I rise up to labour, or lie down to rest,Thoumarkest each motion that works in my breast;My heart has no secrets, butwhat thou canst tel l,Not aword in my tongue but thou

‘

knowest it wel l ;Thou seest my intention before it is wrought,Longbefore I conceive it, thouknowest my thought.

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3 6

That when, in glory, our Victorious HeadShall come, to J udge the living and the dead,W e may, thro

’ Him, to life immortal spring,W herein He reigns, the Everlasting King;The Father, Son, and Spirit may adore,One glorious G od Triune, for evermore.

HYMN

CHRISTM AS DAY .

ON this auspicious, memorable morn,G od and the virgin

’s holy child was born ;

Offspring ofHeav’n, whose undefiled birth

Began the process ofredeeming earth;Of re-

producing paradise again,And G od‘s lost image in the souls ofmen.

Adam, who kept not his first state ofbliss,Hend’red himse lf incapable of this ;Nor could be, with his outward helpmate Eve,This pure, angelic, virgin birthretrieveThis, in our nature, never could be done,Until a virgin should conceive a Son.

Mary, prepar’d for such a chaste embrace,

W as destin’d to this miracle of grace ;

In her unfolded the mysterious planOfman

’s salvation, G od’s becoming man ;

His power, with her humility combin’d,

P roduc’d the sinless Saviour ofmankind.

The height and depth of such amazing loveNor can we measure, nor the blest above ;Its truthwhoever reasons right will own ;Man never couldbe sav

’

d byman alone

3 7

Salvation 19, if rightly we define’

,

Union ofhuman nature with divine.

W hatway to this, unless it had been trodBy the new birth of an Incarnate G od?

B irth of a life that triumphs over death,A life inspir

’d by G od

’s immortal breath;

For which Himse lf, to save us from the tomb,Didnot abhor the virgin mother

’s womb.

0 may this Infant Saviour’s birth inspire

Of real l ife a humble,’

chaste desire!

Raise it up in us ! Form it in our.mind,L ike the blest V irgin

’s, total ly resign

’d!

A mortal life from Adamwe derive ;W e are, in Christ, eternally alive.

CHRISTMAS DAY.

CHRISTIANS awake, salute the happy morn,W hereon the Saviour of the worldwas born ;R ise . to adore the mystery of love,W hichhosts ofangels chanted from above

W ith them the joyful tidings first begunOf G od Incarnate, and the virgin

’s Son

Then to the watchful shepherds itwas told,W ho heard the angelic herald 9 voice Behold!I bring good tidings of a Saviour

’s birth

To you andallthe nations upon earth;This day hath G od fulfill

’d his promis’dword;

This day is born a Saviour, Christ the Lord;In David

’s city, shepherds, ye shal l find

The long-foretold Redeemer ofmankind.

3 8

W rapt up in swaddling clothes, the Babe DivineL ies in a manger

—tbis shall be your sign.

”

He spake, and straightway the celestial choir,In hymns ofjoy, unknown before, conspire :The raises of redeeming love they Bun

And eav’n’s whole orb withHal lelujahs rung.

G od’s highest glory

”was their anthem still;P eace upon earth, andmutual goodwill.

”

To Bethlehem straight th’enlightenedshepherdsran,

To see the wonder G od had wrought for man ;And found,with J oseph!and the blessedMaid,Her Son, the Saviour, in a manger laidAmaz

’d, the wondrous story theyproclaim ;

The first Apostles ofhis infant fameW hile Mary keeps, and ponders in her heart,The heav

’nly vis1on, which the swains impart.

They to their flocks, still praising G od,And their glad heartswithin their bosoms burns

Let us, like these good shepherds, then, employOur grateful voices to proclaim the joy ;L ike Mary, let us ponder in ourmind

G od’s wondrous love in saving lostmankind;Artless, and watchful, as these favour

’d swains,

W hile virgin meekness in the heart remains,Trace we the Babe, who has retriev

’d our loss,From his poor manger to his bitter cross ;

Treading his ste assisted by his grace,Til l man’

s first eav’nly state again takes place.

Then maywe hope, th’Angelic thrones among,

To sing, redeem’d, a glad triumphal song :

He that was born upon this joyful day,Aroundus all

,his glory shall displa

y;

Sav’d by his love, 1ncessantwe shal sing

Ofangels, and ofangel-men, theKing .

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But waru’d of G od, his Father, in a dream,

They disappointed He'

rod’s murd

’

rous scheme ;And, having seen the object of their faith,Sought their own country by another path.

Does not reflection justly hence arise,That in the East, so famous for the wise,The truest learning, sapience, and skill,W as theirs, who sought, amidst the various ill

W hich they beheld, for that predicted scene,That should on earth commence a heav

’nly reign

These true inquirers into nature sawThat nature must have some superior law;Some Righteous Monarch, for the good of all,To rule with justice this disorder

’d bal lTheir humble sense of wants o

’erlook

’d by pride,

Made them so worthy of the star- like guide .

W e read how, then, the very P agan schoolW as fill

’dwith rumours of a J ewish ruleTho’ J ews themselves, as at this present day,Dreamt of a worldly domineering sway ;The trulywise, or J ew or G entile, soughtA Christ, the object of a happier thought.

They best could understand‘prophetic page,

Simple or learn’d, the shepher or the sage :

Their eyes could see, and followa true light,That led them on from prophecy to sight;Could own the Son, who by ,the Father

’s

'

wil l ,Should reign a King on Sion

’s holy hill .

Of treasures which the wise were mov’d to bring,

If gold presented might confess the King,Incense to his Divinity relate,And Myrrh denote his bitter, sufi’ ring state,

They olfer’d types of the Theandric

’plan

Of our salvation, G od’s becoming man .

In this redeeming process all concurr’d

To give sure proof of the propheticword ;

Having the divine and human nature in conjunction.

41'

J esus, Immanuel , the InwardL ightOf allmankind, who seek the truth aright,Forms, in the heart of all thewise on earth,The true day

- star, the token of his birth.

MED ITATIONS

EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK.

G OD IN CHRIST IS ALL LOVE.

BEHOLD the tender love of G od — BeholdThe Shepherd dying to redeem his fold!W ho can declare it?— W orthy to be known

W hat tongue can speak it worthily? —His ownFrom his own sacred lips the theme began,The glorious G ospel of G od

’s love to man .

8 0 great, so boundlesswas it, that he gaveHis on lySop And forwhat end — To save ;

N ot to condemn ; if men reject the light,They, of themselves, condemn themse lves to night ;G od, in his Son, seeks on ly to display,In ev

’ry heart, an everlasting day.

G od hath,so shewn his love to us, says P aul,

Even yet sinners, that Christ died for all

P eter, that G od’s allgracious aim is this,

By Christ to cal l us to eternal blissOf all th3 inspir

’d to understand the view

L OVE is the text, and LOVE the Comment too ;

The gro und to build allfaith andworks upon ;For G od is Love, says the beloved J ohnShort word, butmeaning infinitelywide,Including all that can be said beside ;von. 11. E

42

Including all the joyful truths aboveThe pow

’r of eloquence, for G od ts Love.

”

Think on the proof that J ohn from J esus lant u’d,

In this was G od’s amazing love discern

’d,

Because He sent his Son to us ; that weMight live thro

’ Him.

” Howplain it is t0'

see

That, if in this, in ev’ry other fact

W here G od is agent, love is in the act!

Essential character, (whateverwordOfdilf

’rent sound in scripture has occurr

’d)Ofall that is ascrib

’d to G od; of all

That can by his immediate will befallThe Sun

’s bright orb may lose its shin ing flame,

But love remains unchangeably the same.

now camsr onenes s " : m s want s or son m 113 .

THE Saviour died, according to our faith,To quench, atone, or pacify a wrath.

But G od is love ;” He has no wrath his own ;Nothing in him to quench or to atone

Ofall the wrath that scripture hath reveal’d,

The poor fall’n creature wanted to be heal’d.

G od, ofhis own pure love,was pleae’d to give

The Lord of life, that thro’ Him it might live ;

Thro’

Christ ; because none other could be foundTo healthe human nature of its woundThis great P hysician of the soul had, sure,

In Him, who gave him‘

, no defect to cure.

He did, he sufl'

er’d ev’ry thing, that We

From wrath, by sin enkindled, might be free ;The wrath of G od, in us, that is, the fire

Of burning life, without the love-desire ;W ithout the light, which J esus came to raise,And change the wrath into a joyful blaze.

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44

This was the justice, for which Christ becameA man , to satisfy its righteous claim ;Became Redeemer of the human race,

That sin, in them, to justice might give place.

To satisfyajust and righteous willIs neithermore,

nor less, than to fulfil

It was, in G od, the loving will that soughtThe joy of having man

’s salvation wrought :

Hence, in his Son, so infinitely pleas’d

W ith righteousness fulfill’d andwrath appeas

’d

Notwith mere sufi’ring, which he never wills,

But with mere love that triumph’

d over ills.

’Twas tender mercy

— by the church confess’d,

Before she feeds the sacramental guest ;Rememb

’

ring Him, who oifer’d up his soulA sacrifice for sin, full , perfect, whole,Sufficient, satisfactory

” —and all

That words— how short of merit!—can recal.

And when receiv’d his body and his blood,

The life enabling to be just and good,Oif

’ring, available thro’ Him alone ,

Body and soul, a sacrifice her ownFrom Him, from his, so justice has its due ;Itself restor’d, —not any thing in lieu.

THURSDAY.

CHRIST THE BEG INNER AND FINISHER OF THE NEW

LIFE IN MAN.

DEAD as men are, in trespasses and sins,W hence is it in them that new life begins?’Tis that, by G od

’s great mercy, love, and grace,

The seed of Christ is in the human race ;

That inward, hidden Man, that can revive,And, dead in Adam,

”,rise in Christ alive.

45

L ife. natural and life divine possess’d

Must needs unite, to make a creature bless’d.

T he first, a feeling hunger and desire

O f what it cannot of itself acquire ;W herem the second, entering to dwell,Makes alla heav

’n, that would be else a hel l.

As on ly light alldarkness can expel,So was his conquest, over death and hel l,The only possible, effectual wayTo raise to life what Adam’

s sin could slayDeath, by thefalling ; by the rising man,The resurrection of the dead began .

This heav’nly P arent of the human race

The steps, that Adam fell by, could retrace ;

C ould bear the suff’

rings requisite to save ;

C ould die , a man and triumph o’

er the grave

This, for our sakes, Incarnate Love could do ;G reat 18 the mystery, and greatly true .

P rophets, Apostles, Martyrs, and the choir

O f holy virgin witnesses, conspireTo animate a Christian to endure

W hatever cross G od gives him, for his cure

L ooking to J esus, who has led the wayFrom death to Me , from darkness into day,

Unmov’d by earthly good or earthly ill,

The man Christ J esus wrought G od’s blessedwillDeath, in the nature of the thing, that hour

W herein he died, lost all its deadly pow’r

Then, then was open’d, by what he sustain

’d,The gate of life, and P aradise regain

’

d.

now '

rns surn ames AND DEATH or cumsr ans

AVAILABLE TO MAN’S SALVATION.

W ITH hearts deep rooted in love’s holy groundShould be ador’d this mystery profound

E 2

46

Of G od’s Messiah enff

’ring in our frame ;

The Lamb Christ J esus— blessed be his name

Dying, in this humanity of ours,To introduce his own life-

giving pow’re.

Herein is Love !descending from his throne,The Father

’s bo

'

som, for our sakes alone,W hat earth, what hel l could wrathfully uniteOf ills, he vanquish

’d with enduring mightLegions of angels ready at command,Singly he chose to bear and towithstand;

To bear, - intent upbn mankind’s relief,

Ev’ry excess of ev

’ry shame and grief;

Of inward anguish, past all thought severe ;Such as pure innocence alone could bear.

Dev’lish temptation, treachery, and rage,

Naked, for us, did innocence engage.

Neil’d to a cross it suifer’d and forgave;

And shew’d the penitent its pow

’r to save

Its majesty confesa’d by nature

’s shock,

Darkness, and earthquake, and the rented rock,And opening graves

—the prelude to that pow’r,

W hich rose in sufi ’ring love

’s momentous hour.

No other pow’

r could save, but J esus can ;The living G odwas in the dying man;W ho, perfected by suif’rings, from the grave

Rose in the fulness of allpow’r to save

W ith that one blessed life of G od to fillThe vacant soul,that yieldeth up its will.

To learn is ev’ry pious Christian

’s part,

From his G reatMaster, this most holy art ;

This our high calling, privilege, and prize,W ith Him to suffer, and with Him to rise

To live—to, die—meek, patient, and resign’d

TO G Od’B good pleaaure, with a Christ-like mind.

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48

The one true Saviour; all is dung and dross,In saving sense, but J esus and his cross :

Allnature speaks ; all scripture answers thusSalvation is the life of CHRIST in us.

EASTER COLLECT.

ALMIG HTY G od!whose blessedwill wasBy J esus Christ, our Lord, thine on ly Son ;Death overcome, and open

’d unto men

The gate of everlasting l ife again ;G rant us, baptiz

’d into his death, to die

To allaffections, but to things on high;That when, by thy preventing grace, we findThe good desires to rise within our mind,Our

.

wills may tend as thine shall stil l direct,And bring the good desires to good effect ;Thro

’ Him, the one Redeemer from the fal l,W ho liv’d and died, and rose again for all.

E A S T E R D A Y.

THE morniiig dawns ; the third approachingCan only shew the place where J esus layAn

lgels descend— remember what he saide is not here, but risen from the dead;

Betray’d into the hands ofsinful men,

The Son ofman must die, and rise again.

So sang the prophets, ever since the fal lOf rites ordain

’d the meaning this, thro

’all.

This, by the various sacrifice of old,Memorial type, and shadow, was foretoldEven falseworship, careless what it meant,G ave to this truth an ignorant consent.

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Christ is the sum and substance of the wholeThat G od has done or said, to save a soul,To raise himselfa Church; when that is done,The world becomes the kingdom of his Son ;A Heav

’n restor

’d to the redeem’d, the horn

OfHim who rose on this auspicious morn .

He that was dead, in order to restore,

Behold!He is alive for evermore

A heav’nly Adam, full empow

’r’d to give

The life that men were first desigu’d to live

Fountain ofMe! come, whosoever will ,To quench his thirst, and freely take his fill.

Mankind, in Him, are life’s predestin

’dheirs ;His rising glories the first- fruits of theirs.Hearts that renounce the slavery to sin ,Feel ofhis pow

’r the l1ving warmthwithin ;

Of strengthening faith, of joyous hope‘

possess’d,

And Heav’n -

producing love within the breast

The breast— the temple of the Holy G host,W hen once enliven

’d by this heav

’nly host

His resurrection, the sure proof ofours

W il l there exert his death-destroying ow’rs ;

Till allhis sons shal l meet before his t rone

In glorious bodies, fashion’d like his own .

Hymn for Easter Day.

THE Lord is risen! He, who came

To suffer death and conquer too,Is risen ; let our song proclaimThe praise to man

’s REDEEMER due

To Him, whom G od, in tender LOVE,Always

‘

alike to bless inclin’d,

Sent to redeem us, fromabove ;To save

, to sanctzfy mankind.

CHORUS.

'

orthy of allpom’r and praise,

He who died and rose again ;Lamb of G od,— and slain to raise

Man , to life redeem’

d— AMEN.

That life, whichAdam ceas’d to live,

W hen to this world he turu’d his heart,

And to his children could not give,The SECOND ADAM can impart.

W e , on our earthly parent’s side,

Could but receive a life ofeartbThe Lord from Heaven,—He liv

’d, anddied,And rose, to give us heav

’nly birth.

Cm) . Worthy of allpow’r and praise,

This mortal life, this livingdeath,Shews that in Adamwe alldie ;

In Cnmsr we have immortal breath,And life’s unperishing supply

HE took our nature, and sustain’il

The m is’ries of its sinful state ;

Sinless HIMSELF, for us regain’d

To P aradise an open gate.

C110 . Worthy of allpom’r and

As Adam rais’d a life of sin,

So Christ, the serpent-bruising Seed,

By G od’s appointment could begin

The birth, in us, ofLIEE indeed.

He did begin ; parental bead,As Adam fell, so J '

ssus stood;Fulfill

’d allrighteousness, and said’Tls F1N18 11

’D!”— ou the sacredwood.

Cno. Worthy of allpow’r and praise,

Finish’d his work, to quench the wrath

That sin had brought on Adam’s race ;

To pave the sole andcertain pathFrom nature

’s life, to that ofgrace.

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52

The Babel projects bring them to their birth,And scatter discord o

’er the face of earth.

The P rince of P eace now sending, from above,His Holy Spirit of uniting love,By its miraculous effusion shew’

d

How great a pow’

r he promis’

d and bestow’d;P ow’

r to reverse confusion, and impart

One L iving W ord to ev’ry honest heart.

Deaf to its influence the wicked stood,And mock’d the J ust amazement of the good ;Forwant of sense, ascribing to newwineTheirjoint acknowledgments of grace divinerThe world’s devout epitome was taught,And bid from pride the miracle, when wrought.

Known to the meek, but from the worldlywise,From scofi

'

ers, bid the wonderful suppliesOfG od’s good Spirit, now as near to men

W hose hearts are open to the truth, as then

B lest, in all climates, allconditions theyWho hear this inward teacher and obey.

T R I N IT Y S U N D A Y.

CC -EQUAL TBiNl'

rY was always taughtBy the divines most fam

’d for pious thought.

The men of learning fill’d, indeed, the page

W ith dissonant disputes, from age to age

But with themselves, so far as one can read,About their schemes are not at allagreed,W hen they oppos

’d, by reason or by wrath,

This grand foundation ofthe Christian Faith.

For what more fundamental point, or grand,Than our ascending Saviour

’s own command?

G o, and baptize all nations in the name”

Ofiwhom, orwhat? (For thence the surest aim

53

OfChristian doctrine mustappear themost.)The name of FATHER, SON,

andHOLY G HOST?

Our Lord’

s interpretation here we see

Of Thou shalt have no other G ods but Me.

For can the phrase; so highly sacred, shewThe name of G od to be omitted?No ;

By its essential Trmity express’d,

It shew’d what faith Christ will’d to be profess

’d

One G od the J ews had own’

d; and One Supreme,W ith others lower, was the P agan theme ;How One was true , and how Supreme profan

’d,Our Lord’s baptismal ordinance eXplain

’

d.

The one Divinity of Father, Son,And Spirit, teaches christian thought to shun

Both P agan and Rabbinicalmistake,And understand what holy prophets spake,Or in the ancientwritings or the new,

To which this doctrine is the sacred clue,That so conducts us to the saving planOf true religion, as no other can .

Forwere the Son’s Divinity denied,

The Father’s must of course be set aside,

Or be a dark one— How can it be bright,But by its own eternal

,inborn light?

The glory of the Father IS the Son,Ofallhis pow

’rs begotten, or begun,

From all eternity— Take Son away,

And what the Father can delight 1n, say.

The love, paternally d1vine, impliesIts proper object, whence 1t must arise,That 1s, the Son ; and so the filial , too,Implies paternal origin in view;And hence the third distinctly glorious tieOf love, which both are animated byAll is One G od, but He contams divine,L iving relations, evidently Trine.

So far from hurting unity, that hence

The fulness rises of its perfect sense ;

And ev’ry barren, spiritless dispute,

Against its truth, is pluck’d up by the root :

The faith is solid to repose upon,Father, W ord, Spirit, undivided One ;Bywhom mankind, of threefold life possess

’d,Can live, andmove, and have its being blest.

Not by three G ods ; orOne supremely great,W ith two infai ors ; or the wild conceit,G od, Michael, G abriel ; or aught e lse devis

’d

For christians, in no creature’s name baptiz

’d :

But of thewhole inseparable THREE,W hose fertile Oneness causes allto be,And makes a Heav’

n thro’nature

’swhole abyss,

By its P aternal, Filial , Spirit bliss.

ON THE SAME,

ONE G od theFather— certainly this termDoes not a barren Deity affirm,

W ithout the Son ; without the native light,By which its fiery Majesty is brightW ithout the Spirit of the fire, and flame

Oflife divine, eternally the same.

More one— than any thing beside can be,Because of its inseparable three ;W hich nothing can diminish or divide,Tho

’it should break allunity bes1de ;

For this, as self-begetting, self-begot,And to itselfproceeding, it can not.

This total oneness of its threefoldbliss,L ife, light, and J oy of nature

’s vast abyss,

No tongue so wel l can utter, but the mind,That seeks for somewhat to object, may find.No end of questions, ifwe must contestA truth, by saints, of ev’

ry age, expresa’d.

The churchdid always, always wil l agreeIn its one worship ofthe Holy Three ;

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56

Who said, and continues to say,In the deep of a penitent breast,Come, sinner, to me come away ;I’llmeet thee, and bring thee to rest.

A refusal to come is absurd;I’llput myself under his care ;

I’

llbelieve his infallible word,And never,

— no, never despair.

P ENITENTIAL SOLILOQUY .

WHAT! tho’no objects strike upon the sight,

Thy sacred presence is an inward light!W hat! tho

’no sounds should penetrate the ear,

To list’ning thought the voice of truth is clear ;

Sincere devotion needs no outward shrine ;The centre ofa humble soul is thine!

There may I worship! And there mayst thou

Thy seat ofmercy, and thy throne ofgrace !

Yea, fix, if Christ my Advocate appear

The dread tribunal of thy justice thereLet each vain thought, let each impure desire

Meet, in thy. wrath,with a consumingfire.

W hilst the kind rigours of a righteous doom

Alldeadly filth of selfish pride consume,Thou, Lord! canst raise, tho

’

punishing for sin,The joys ofpeaceful penitence within :Thy justice and thy mercy both are sweet,That make our suf rings and salvation meet.

Befall me, then, whatever G od shal l please !His wounds are healing, and his griefs give case

He, like a true P hysician of the soul,Applies the med

’cine that may make it whole.

I'

lldo, I’ll su er whatsoe’er He wil ls ;

I see his aim ro’all these transient ills.

57

’Tis to infuse a salutarygrief,To fit the mind for absolute

gn

reliefThat, purg dfrom cv

’ry false and finite love,

D ead to the world, alive to things above,The soul may rise, as in its first- form’d youth,And worship G od i n Spirit and in Truth.

ENCOURAG EMENT

Earnest and Importunate P rayer.

.uke 18 . 1.- AND an span A P ARABLE unro THEM,TO ruxs nun

,

'rn a'r ru n ove r“ ALWAYS '

ro p nav,AND 11 0 7 To ru n .

A BLESSED Truth for parable to paint,That men should always pray, and never faint!

”

J ust the reverse of this would Satan say,That men should always faint, and never pray.

He wants to drive poor sinners to despair

And Christ, to save them by prevailing pray r.

The judge, who feared neither G od nor man,Despis

’d the widowwhen she first began

Her just request; but she, continuing on

The same petition, wearied him anon ;

He could not bear to hear her praying st1ll

And did her justice, tho’against his will.

Can perseverance force aman, unjust,To execute, however loth, his trust?And will not G od, whose fatherly delightIs to save souls, so precious i n his sight,Hear his own offspring

’s persevering cal l,

And give the blessing which He has for all?

Yes, to be sure, He will ; the lying No

Is a downright temptation of the foe ;W ho first emboldens sinners to presume,As ifa righteous judgment had no room;

F

And, having lead them into grievous faults,W ith the despair ofmercy then assaults.

Dear soul, if thou hast listen’d to the lies

W hich, at the first, the tempter would devise,Let him not cheat thee with a second snare,And drag thee into darkness by despair;P ra against allhis wiles, for G odwill hear,Andywill avenge thee of him, never fear.

He gives the grace to sorrow for thy sin,The sign ofkindling penitence within ;Let not the smoke disturb thee ; for, no doubt,The light and flame wil l fol low, and break out ;And love arise to overcome restraint,That thou mayst always pray and neverfaint.

S O L I L O Q U X

On reading the 5thand 8th Verses of the 3 7th P salm.

wave on m omwnA'

rn ,AND LET no nrspu asunn z us er 1101

THYSELF, sass sru m'1 110 1: as movs n '

t o no Em a - “ V. 8.

IN psalm, this evening order’d to be read,Fret not thyself, the royal P salmist said.

His reason why, succeedingwords instil ;Or else, says he,

’twillmove thee to do ill. 0

ow, tho’ I know that fretting does no good,

Its evil movement have I understood?

Move to do evil Then , dear soul ofmine,Stir it not up, if that be its design

Its being vain is cause enough to shun ;But if indulg

’d, some evil must be done ;

And thou, according to the holy king,Must be the doer of this evil thing.

Men use thee ill - that fault is theirs alone ;But if thouuse thyself ill, that

’s thy own

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60

’Tis Summer now, and Autumn comes anon ;W inter succeeds, and Spring, when that is gone ;But be itW inter, Summer, Autumn, Spring,To nurture fretting is a simple thingA weed so useless, to the use of reason,Can, absolutely, never be in season.

W ithout much nursing, that the weedwi ll growIwish I had some reason less to know;Some less to see, howfolly, when it grewIn my own ground, could cultivate it too ;Could hedge it round, and cherish and suppose

That, being mine, the thistle was a rose.

You know the saying, of I know not whom,

Little Misfortunes serve till'

greater come ;And sayi somewhere metwith, I recall,That

’tis t greatest to have none at all

Rare case, perhaps ;- they reach, we often see,

All sorts ofpersons, him, her, you, or me.

This being, then,” Experience says, the case,

W hat kind ofconduct must a man embrace?”

My’

pothecary, as you think, replies

P ray take’em quietly, ifyou be wise ;

Bitter they are,’tis true, to fleshand blood;

But if theywere not, they would do no good.

One time, when’P othecary P atience found

That his persuasion got but little ground,He call’d in Doctor G ratitude, to tryIfhis advice could make me to complyI recommended patience, Sir,

”said he,

P ray will you speak, for he regards not me.

P atience!a custard lid!”

saidDoctor G rat.

His case wants, plainly, something more than that;’Tis a good recipe, but cure is longerThan it should be ; we must have something stronger :

A creeping pulse! Bare patience wil l not doTo get him strength, he must be thankful too.

He must consider” -and so on hewent,To shew

‘

thanksgiving’smarvellous extent;

6 1

"

And what a true catholicon ‘ itwas ;A nd what great cures it had but brought to pass ;A nd howbest fortunes, wanting it,were curst ;

A nd how it turn’d to good the very worst.

0 what a deal he said —And in the light,W herein he plac

’d it, allwas really rightB ut, like good doctrine, of some good divine,W hich, while

’tis preach

’d, is admirably fine,

W hen Doctor G ratitude had left the spot,All that he saidwas charming

— and forgot.

Your doctor’s potion,

—patience and the bark,

May hit both mental and material mark;O ne serves to keep the ague from the mind,As t

’

other does, from its corporeal rind ;There is, methinks, in their respective growth,A fair analogy betwixt

’em both.

For what the bark is to the growing tree,To human mind, that, patience seems to be ;They hold the principles of growth together,And blunt the force of accident andweatherBar’d of its bark, a tree, we may compute,W il l not remain much longer on its root.

Andmind in mortals, that are wisely will’d,

W il l hardly bear to have its patience peel’d.

N othing, in fine, contributes more to living,P hysic, or food,— than patience and thanksgiving;P atience defends us from alloutward hap ;Of inward life thanksgiving is the sap.

VERSES WRITTEN UNDER A P RINT,

REP RESENTING

The Salutation of the Blessed Virgin.

SEE represented here, in light and shade,The angel

’s visit to the blessed maid

Universal remedy.

F 2

62

To Mary, destin’d, when the time should come,

To hear the Saviour in her virgin womb

Explaining to her the mysterious planOfman

’s redemption

— his becoming man .

W hen ev’ry previouswonder had been done,

The virgin then was to conceive a Son ;

And to prepare-

her for the grand event,

From G od, his Father, G abriel was sent,To hail the chosen organ ofhis birth

Of G od with as,- of J ESUS upon earth.

Unable to express celestial thingsImagination adds expanded wings

To human form exact, and beauteous face ;W hich angels have, but with angelicgrace,Free from allgrossness anddefect ; nor seen,

But with a pure chaste eye, divinely keen.

SuchMary’s was, whose posture here design

’d

The most profound humility ofmind;Modestly asking how the thing could be ;And saying, when inform

’d ofG od’s decree,

Behold the handmaid of the Lord His willLet Him,

according to thy word, fulfill.

W hat fair instruction may the scene impartTo themwho look beyond the painter

’s art!

W ho, in th’angel ic message from above,

See the revealing of G od’s gracious loveTo ev

’ry soul, that yields itself to all

That pleases Him, whatever may befall !

W hatever circumstance ofheav’nly grace

Might be peculiar to the virgin'

s case,

That holy thing, that saves a soul from sin,Of G od’s good Spirit must be born withinFor all salvation is, upon the whole,The birth of J ESUS in the human soul.

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64

W hether his actions, therefore, be pourtray’d

In printed letter or in figur’d shade,

The books, the pictures, thatwe read or see,

Should raise reflection, in some due degree ;And serve as memorandums, to recalThe teacher J ESUS, in the midst of all.

P ASCAL’S CHARACTER OF HIMSELF.

I LOVE and honour a poor humble state,

Because my Saviour J esus Christ was poor ;And riches, too, that help us to abate

The miseries which other men endure.

I render backno injuries again,Because I wish the doer’s case like mine ;In which, nor good nor evil, as from men,Is mindedmuch, but from a Hand Divine.

I aim sincerely to be just and true ;For my good-will to allmankind extends

A tenderness ofheart, I think, is due,W here stricter ties unite me to my friends.

W hether in conversation or alone,Still to my m1ud G od

’s presence I recal

My actionswait thejudgment ofhis throne,And

’tis toHim I consecrate them all.

These are my thoughts, and briefl thus display’d

I thank my Saviour for them ev’ry (lily;

W ho, ofa poor, weak, sinful man, has madeA man exempt from vice’s evil sway.

Such is the force ofHis inspiring grace!For allmy good to that alone I owe ;Since, ifmy own corrupted self I trace,I’m nothing else but misery andwoe.

65

Armelle Nicholas’

s Account ofHerself.

FROM THE FRENCH.

TO the G od ofmy love, in the morning, said she,L ike a child to its parent, when waking, I flee ;W ith a longing to serve Him and please Him, I riseAnd before Him kneel down, as if seen by these eyesI resign up myself to his absolute will,W hich I beg that in me He would always fulfilT

fit the pray

’rs of the day, by whomever preferr

’d,

F the good of each soul, may bealso thus heard.

If, oblig’d to attend on some houshold affair,

I have scarce so much time as to say the Lord’s P ray

’r,

This gives me no trouble : my dutifulpartIs obedience to Him,

whom I have at my heart

As well at mywork as retiring to pray;And his love does not suffer in mine a decayHe has taught me Himself, that a work, which I doFor his sake, is a pray

’r very real and true.

I dress in his presence, and learn to confess

That his provident kindness supplies me with dressIn the midst of all outward employment I findA conversing with Him ofan intimate kind;How sweet is the labour!His loving regaid

8 0 supporting one’s mind, that it thinks nothing hard

W hile the limbs are at work, in the seeking to pleaseSo belov

’d a companion, the mind is at ease.

In his presence I eat and I drink; and reflect

How food, of his gift, is the growing effect ;Howhis love to my soul is so great and so good,J ust as if itwere fed with his own flesh andbloodW hat a virtue this Feeder, his meat, and his drink

Have to raise in one’s heart, I must leave you to think.

He alone can express it; no language ofmine,W ere my life spent in speaking, could ever define.

66

W hen perhaps byhard usage or weariness press’d,

I myselfam too apt to be fretful at best,Love shews me forthwith how I ought to take heed

Not to nurse the least anger, by word or by deed ;And He sets such a watch at the door ofmy lips,That of hasty cross words there is nothing that slipsSuch irregular passions, as seek to surprise,Are crush

’d, and are conquer

’d, as soon as they rise.

Or, if e’er I give place to a humour so bad,

My mind has no rest till forgiveness be had;I confess allmy faults, as ifHe had not known,And my peace is renew

’d, by a goodness his own ;

In a manner so free, as if, after my sin,More strongly confirm

’d than before it had been.

By a mercy so tender my heart is reclaim’

d,And the more to love Him by its failing inflam

’d.

Sometimes I perceive that He hideth his face,And I seem like a person depriv

’d ofallgrace ;

Then I say Tis no matter, altho’ thou concealThyself as thou pleasest, I

’llkeep to my zeal ;I’ll love Thee, and serve Thee, however this rodMay be sent to chastise, for I knowThou art G od;

Andwith more circumspection I stand upon guard,Till of such a great blessing no longer debarr

’d.

But a sufl’ring, so deep, having taught me to try

W hat I am in my self-hood, I learn to relyMore firmly on Him, who was pleas

’d to endureThe severest extremes, to make way for our cure.

To conform to his pattern, as love shall see fit,My faith in the Saviour resolves to submit;For no more than my self (if the word may go free)Can I live without Him, can He help loving me.

W ell assur’d ofhis goodness, I pass the whole day,And my work, hard or easy, is felt as a play ;I am thankful in feelmgs, but, pleasure or smart,It is rather Himself that I love in my heart.W hen they urge me to mirth, I think, 0 !were it knownHowI meet the best Company when I

’m alone!”

To my dear fellow-creatures what ties me each hourIs the love ofmy G od, to the best ofmy pow

’

r,

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68

There she could read the characters impress’d

Upon the mind of ev’ry human breast;

The native laws prescrib’d to ev

’ry soul

And love, the one fulfiller of the whole.

This holy love to know and practise wel l,Became the sole endeavour ofArmel le ;Ofoutward things the management and ruleShe wisely took from this internal schoolIn ev

’ryworkwel l done by such a hand,

The workwas servile, but the thing was grand.

There was a dignity in all she did,Tho

’

from the world by meaner labours hid;Ifmean below, not so esteem

’d above,

W here all the grand of labour is the loveIn vain to boast magnificence Of scene ;It is allmeanness, if the love be mean .

St. Cecilia’

s Hymn .

O !BORN of a virgin, most lowly and meek,Thou sent of thy Father lost creatures to seek,Vouchsafe, in the manner that pleaseth thee best,To kindle thy love, in my vir inal breast ;Let thewords ofmymouth, andthe thoughts ofmyheart,Obey the sweet force,which thy grace shal l impart ;W hilst angels assist me to offer my vowsTo the G od of my Life, my Redeemer, and Spouse.

My life, I esteem, O Creator Divine,As a loving impression out-flowing from thine ;As an act of thy bounty, that gives us a part

Of the light, love, and glory,which thou thyselfMay I always as little thy leasure oppose,As the pure simple nature rom whence I arose ;And, by thee and for thee created, fulfilIn thought, word, and deed, thy adorable will .

By this blessedwill, howsoever made known,W ith a dutiful joywil l I govern my own ;

69

And, deaf to all tempting enchantments of sin,I will hearken to Thee, my Redeemer, within ;Thy words will I ponder, by night and by day,And the light of thy gospel shal l mark out my wayTil l at length I arrive at the honour I claim,

To live, like a virgin baptiz’d in thy name.

LETTER TO A LADY,

OCCASIONED

By her desiringthe Author to revise and polish theoems of Bishop Ken .

YOUR book again with thanks—Ofworthy men

One of the worthiest was Bishop Ken .

W ithout offence to authors, —far above

Ten men of learning is one man of loveHowmany Bishops and Divines renown

’d,

Time after time, the Catechism expound!

And which, of all, so help it to impartTh

’essential doctrine, purity of heart?

His choice of poetry, when civil rageO

’erturn

’d a throne, the last revolving age,

W hen Churches felt, as well as States, the shock

That drove the pious P astor from his flock;His choice of subjects, not of party kind,But simply fit for ev

’ry christian mind,

Are proofs of gen’rous virtue and sublime,

And high encomiums on the force of rhyme ;

His rhymes.— If those of Dryden or of P ope,

Excel on subjects of a diff’rent scope,

It is because they only chose the moldW here ore shone brightest, whether lead or goldHe, less concern

’d for superficialglare,Made weight andworth his more especial care ;

70

They took the tinse l of the fabled Nine,He, the substantial metal from the mine.

His phrase (sometimes same sentence may beOnitbeirs) might have more artificial cast ;But, in the main, his pieces, as they stand,Could scarce be alter

’d by a second hand.

P atchwork improvements, in the modern stile,Bestow’d upon some venerable pile,DO but deface it : P oems to revise

That Ken has writ, another Ken must arise.

The dedication,— where the case is shewnOf a G reek saint of old, so like his own ;The preface, introduction, and the viewTo J csus— point which all his works pursueArise to mind, and tempt to try the case

Of representing the imperfect trace ;To make, (as memory can best recalIts leading thoughts,) one preface out of all.

Imagine then the good old-man reclin’d

On couch or chair, and musing in his mind

How to adjust the prefatory hint,To all the lines that he gave leave to print ;Thinking on G regory, whose former fateBore such resemblance to his own of late ;Thinking on J esus, and oppress

’d with pain,

Inditing thus th’apologizing strain

In allmy pains I court the sacred muse,Verse is the only laudanum I use ;Verse, and the name of J esus in the line,The Christian

’s universal anodyne ;

To hymn his saving love to allmankind

Softens my grief, and recreatesmy mind;Thy glory, J esu, while my songs intend,May thy good Spirit bless them to that end!

L ike destin’d J onah, cast into the deep,To save the vessel from the stormy sweep,And, wafted providentially to shore,I risk the boist

’rous element no more ;

Butwhilst alone I tread the distant strand,Safe o

’er thewaves that allmay come to land

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72

My care for them whom I was forc’d to leave,

Taught and untaught what doctrine to receive,W ould hint in rhymes , to allwhom they shal l reach,W hat J esus only, in themselves, can teach.

For sake of peace did G regory withdraw,

And wish’d more leaders to observe that law ;

By which resigners of dominion, here,P urchase much greater in the heav

’nly sphere :

In hopes of peace, more joyful ly I shook

P referment off, than e’er I undertook;

For all the flock, and banish’d head beside,My comfort is that J esus can provide.

W hen worldly politics and lust of ruleP revail

’d against him in a christian school ,The Saint retir

’d, and labour’d to disperseUngrateful discord byharmonious verseSharing his fate, I share in his desire

Ofdiscord drown’d and ofa hymning lyre,

To tune the hopes ofpeace ; and in the name

Of J esus, rightly bop’d for, to proclaim.

This P rince ofpeace, this Origin Divine,Vouchsafe to aid the wel l intended line,To teach the reader

’s heart ; and, by his g

Make these poor labours useful in their place0 might they raise, in any single soul,One spark of love, one glimpse of the G reat Whole,Thatwill possess it, when by thee possess

’d,

J esus!th’eternal song ofallthe blest

Hint to Christian P oets.

WHERE now the J ove, the P he bus, and the Nine,Invok

’d in aid Of G reek and Roman line ;

The verse- inspiring oracle and stream,

Delphos, and Helicon, and every theme

73

Of charming fictions, which the poets sungTo shew the beauties ofa reigning tongue?

The wars of gods, and goddesses, and men,Employ

’d aHomer’s and a Virgil’s pen

An Epicurus taught, that, with this bal l,The gods, at case, had no concern at all

And a Lucretius follow’d, to rehearse

His G reek impieties in Latin verse.

{deb were the Bibles of the P agan age,11g at the feast, and acted on the stage ;

Transform’d to pompous or

‘ to luscious ode,As Bacchus, Mars, or Venus was the modeDumb deities, at -wit’s profuse eXpence,W orshipp

’d with sounds that echoed to no sense.

The Christian bard has, from a realspringOf inspiration, other themes to sing ;No vain philosophy, no fabled rhyme,But sacred story, simple and subl ime,B holy prophets told; to whom belongT e subjectsworthy of the pow

’rs of song

Shun then,—ye born with talents thatmay graceThe most important truths,

—their hapless caseFrom ranting, high, theatrical bombast,To low sing

-song ofmeretricious cast ;Shun ev

’ry step, by which a P agan muse

Could lead her clients to the stage or stews.

Let no examples tempt you to profaneThe gift

— abhorrent of allhurtful strainC ontemn the vicious, tho

’

prevailing fame,That gains, by prostituting verse, a name :

Take the forbearing hint ; and allthe rest

W ill rise spontaneous in your purer breast.

VOL. II.

74“

ON THE

DISP OSITION OF MIND,

REQUISITE FOR

TO hear the words of scripture, or to read,W ith good effect, requires a threefold heed;If incomplete, it only can produceHearings and readings ofno sort of use.

The first, INTENTION ; or a fix’d design

To learn the truth concerning things divine ;If previous disposition be not good,How shal l a serious point he understood?

The next, ATTENTION ; not the outwardpart,But the fair list’ning of an honest h

'

ehrt :

Soundmay, and figure, strike the ear and eye,But sense and meaning to the mind apply.

The last, RETENTION ; or the keepi pure,From hurtful mixtures, what is clear an sureIn vain the purpose and the pains have beenTo gain a good, if not secor

’dwithin.

W ithout INTENTION truth no more can stay,Than seed can grow upon apublicway;The more it ismeeting, plam, and grand,The less will heedless persons understand.

W ithout ATTENTION ’twil l have no- more ifr-uit,

Than seed on stony ground, for want ofroot;

Thatmakes a showwith hasty shoots awhile,And then betrays the barrenness of soil.

W ithout RETENTION all is lost at last,Like seed among the thorns and briars castSo worldly cares, and worldly riches both,May gmx with truth, and choak it in its growth.

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76

Taking the same variety ofways,By fancied meanings for its ancient phrase,To cry it down, as sects were wont to useTo cry it tip,

for their peculiar views.

As this excess, from age to age, has grownTo such a monstrous heightwithin our own,W hat a sincere, impartial, honest mindIn search of truth, does it require to find!

W hat calm attention, whatunfeign’d desire

To hear its voice does truth itself require!In scripture

-

phrase, what an unceasing pray’r

Should for its sacred influence prepare!Because, whatever comments we recal,The disposition of the mind is all.

’Tis in this point (undoubtedly the main)That sacredbooks do differ from profane

They do not ask so much for ‘ lett'

er’d skill

To understand them, as for simple will.For as a single, or clear- sighted eye

Admits the li ht, like an unclouded sky,80 is the trut by scripture phrase design

ld,

Receiv’d into awel l disposed mind;

By the same Spirit, ready to admit

The written word, as they possess’dwho writ ;

W ho writ, if Christians do not vainly boast,By inspiration of the Holy G host.

In books so writ this great advantage lies,That the first Author of them never dies ;But is still present to instruct and shew,

To them who seekHim, what they need to knowStill, by his chosen servants, to unfold,As He sees fit, the mysteries of old;To re-confirm what any sacred pen

Has writ, by proof within the hearts of men.

This is the true and solid reo

pen why

No difliculties, now objected, leAgainst the volumes writ so long ago,And in a language that few people know;Subject, as books, to errors and mistakes,W hich oft transcribing or translating makes

77

W hilu nanners, customs, usages of phraseW e ll known of old, but not so in our days,For many obvious reasons, must eludeThe utmost force of criticising feud

Still, all editions verbally contain

The simple, necessary truths, and plain,Of gospe l doctrine ; and the Spirit

’s aid,

Which is the'

chief, is not at all decay’d.

Nor can it hurt a reader to suspend

His judgment, where ‘

he does nm prehend

A darker text ; however it appear,He knows it cannot contradict a clear

So that with all the helps, of ev’ry kind,

The shortest and the surest is to mind,

(W hen read or heard,) and inwardly digestThe plainest texts, as rules to all the rest ;

To pray for that G oodSpirit, which aloneCan make its former inspirations known ;The promis

’d Comforter, th’unerring G uide,

W ho, b Christ’s word, was always to abide

W ithin is church, not on ly in the past,But in allages while the world should last ;A church distinguish

’d, in the sacred code,By his perpetual guidance andabode.

Such is the Teacher whom our Saviour chose,Andwrit no books, as human learning knows ;Loth as it is, of later years, to preach,That by this TeacherHe wil l always teach;B less all the means of learning, or the want,To them who after His instructions pantOf reading helps what holy men expresa

’d,W hen mov’d to write, are certainly the best ;But for the real, understanding part,The Book of books is ev

’ry man

’s own heart.

78

A STR ICTU‘

RE

BISHOP mumUR‘

TON’S DOCTRINE or G RAox.

WRITING or scripture, sacred or profane,Can only render h

'

mtory more plain

Of what was done or said, by G od or man,Since the creation of the world began

Tho’ev

’ry word in sacred page be true,

To give account is all that it can do.'

Nowan account of things,as done orsaid,Is not a living letter, but a deadA picture only, which may represent,But cannot give us what is reallymeantHe that has got a map into his

'

hapd'

May use the name, but knows it is(

not

So in the Biblewhen we come to look;(That is, byway of eminence,

'

the,book)

W e must not fancy that it can bestowThe things themselves, whichwe desire to know;It can but yield, however

'

true,

and plain,Verbal directions howwe may obtain.

Tho’ a prescription be directly sure,Upon the ,patient

’s .taking it, ,to cure, .

No one imagines that the worded bill,Becomes, itself, the remedytor ill;The med’cines taken, as, the billdirects,P rocure the salutiferous eflects.

W ho, then, can place in anywritten code

The Holy G host’s, the Comforter

’s, abode?

’Comtant abode—supreme illuminationW hat copy can be this, or what translation?

For though, accordingto the promise, his ordinary influence

sionally assists the faithfu of allages yet his constant abode, and se

preme illumination, is in the more ecm tures of the New Testament

p. 3 9. TheDoctrinecf G race, by theB’

of G loucester.

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80

His fund of learning some are‘

pleas’d to add

And yet, with all th’endowmentswhich he had,

From place to place, with eager steps, he trod,To persecute the real church of G od.

W hen to Damascus, for the like intent,W ith the High P riest

’s authority he went;

Struck to the ground, by a diviner ray,The reas

’ning, legal, moral zealot lay ;

To the plain question put by J sans— 37h

P ersecute me? - had only to reply,W

'

hat shallI do?—His reason and hiswrathWere both convinc

’d, and he embrac’

d the faith.

His outward lost, his inward sight renew’d,

Truth in its native evidence he view’d;W ith three days

’ fast he nourish’d his concern,And, a new conduct wel l prepar

’d to learn,G oodAnanias, whom he came to bind,W as sent to cure and to baptize the blindA destin’

dmartyr to his J ewish zealOf Christian faith confers the sacred seal.

Of nobler use his reason, while it stoodW ithout a conference withflesh and blood,Still, and submissive ; when, within, begunThe Father’s revelation of the Son ;W hom, til l the Holy Spirit rise to shew,

No pow‘

r of thought can ever come to knowThe saving mystery, obscur

’

d by sin,Itself must manifest itself. within.

Thus, taught of G od, P aulsawthe truth appearTo his enlighten

’d understanding clear

The pow’r of Christ himself, and nothing less,

Could move hispersecutor to professHe learn’

d, and told it from the real ground,And prov

’d, to allthe christian world around,That true religion had its truefoundation,Not in man

’s Reasoit but G od

’s REVELATION.

8 1

A CONTRAST

BETW EEN

Human Reason and D ivine Illumination,

EXEMP LIFIED IN

THREE DIFFERENT CHARACTERS.

de ma t/u W h a m .

A HUMBLE Christian— to whose inward sight

G od shews the truth, and then inspires to write,Because of deeper certainties declar

’d,

Than what the mind perceives, when unprepar’d,

From themwho measure allon which he treats,By the fix

’

d standard of their own conceits,Meets with contempt ; and very fewwill ownThe real truths which he has really shown.

A sharp philosopher,— who thinks to find,By his own reason, his own strength of mind,Sublimer things, that lie so far beyond

The scenes to which such forces correspond

From them who love to speculate like him,

And think all light, but that of reason, dim,

Meets with admirers ; tho’ he reasons wrong,

And draws the dupes, if plausible, along.

Now, tho’a searcher should no more despise

The use of reason , than he should of eyes ;Yet, if there he a stil l superior l ight,Than faculty of Reason has, or Sight

W hich all religion seems to pre- suppose,

That G od, on such, as rightly seek, bestows ;In higher matters how should he decide,W ho takes his reason, only, for his guide?

Suchwords as Nature, Reason, Common Sense,Flll'mSh allwriters with one same pretence ;

82

Altho’, in many an acknowledg’

dcase,They must fall short, without superior G race

.

So that, in things of more momentous kind,Nature itse lf directs us not to mind,If sacred truth be heartily desir

’d

The greatest reas’ners, but the most inspir

’

d.

W hence comes the value for the scripture page,So justly due, so paid thro

’ev

’ry age?

Not writ by men of learning, and of parts,But honest, humble , and enlighten

’d hearts ;Who, when they reason

’d, reaspn’d verywe ll ;

But howenabled, let their writings tell ;Not one of all, butwho ascribes the force

Of truth discover’d to a higher source.

Take these three men, so difi’rent in their way,

For instance, BEHMBN, Bonmennoxs , and BarThey allphilosophize on sacred themes,And the two last ,on reason build their schemes

Thefirst allirms, that his principia flowFrom what G od

’

s Spirit gave,him pow’r to know;

As much a promis’d as a certain G uide,

W ith Christ’s disciples ever to abide.

If Bolingbrokian reason must prevail,All inspiration is ,an idle taleW riters by that, fromMoses down to P aul,I spare to mention howhe treats them all

Now if he err’

d,,whence did that error spring?

His reason told -him there -was no. such thing; .Foundress, in her philosophizing cast,Of allhisfirst philosophy and last.

Hay, better taught andmore ingenuous spark,G r0pes with his reason betwixt light and dark;Now, gentle glimmeringsp f truthdisplayNow, lost in fancy

’

s intricatermaze,A motley mixture “of {such things has gotAs reason could discover and could not;Which allthe builders on its boasted planP rove to be just asmanifold as man .

This Behmen knew; and, in'

bie humble way,Became enlighten

’d by a steadier ray

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84

Deep in its matter, and obscure beside

Ask’d his opinion of it, - he replied,

All that I understand is good and true,And what I don’

t‘is, I bel ieve, so too .

Thus answer’d Socrates, whom G reece confesa’d

The wisest of her sages and the best ;Byjustice mov

’

d, and candour, of a piece

W hh that P hilosopher’

s repute in G reece

W orthy of imitation, to be sure,

W hen a goodwriter is sometimes obscure.

All the haranguing, therefore, on the theme

Of deep obscurity, in J acob Behme,Is but itself obscure ; for he might seeFarther,

’tis possible, than you or me

Meanwhile, the goodness of his plainer pageDemands the answer of the G recian sage .

The staj‘

and nonsense, labyrinth and maze,Madness, enthusiasm, and such like phrase,Its quick bestowers are oblig

’d to own,

Ought not to move us, by its eager tone,More thanfliey ought, in reason, to be mov

’d,Should we so paint a workwhich they approv

’d.

He, whom the fair Socratical remarkDescribes, was call

’d one

-

renter," ror the dark;

Yet his wise reader, from the good in view,

Thought that his darker passages were trueHe would not judge of what, as yet, la hid,By what he did not see, butwhat he didl

The books of Behme, .as none are tied to read,To blame unread, they have as little needAs theywho read them most, the most commend,Others, at least, may venture to suspend;Or think, with ref

’rence to such books as these,

Of Hanscurns and of Socnsras.

Skoteinos.

85

THOUG HTS UP ON HUMAN REASON,

OCCASIONED

extravagant

in its Favour.

Y”, I have ra d them—but I cannot findMuch depth of sense in writers of this kindThey all retail, as they proceed along,Or superficial sentiments or wrongOf Reason !Reason !” they repeat the cries,And Reason’s use” —which nobody denies.

All sharers in it follow, I suppose,Each one his reason, as he does his nose,W hen he intends to reach a certain spot,W hether he finds the road to it or not

W ith equal sense a postulatum begsThe use of reason as the use of legs.

Full well these rational adepts declaimOn points, at which their reason can take aim ;But when they talkbeyond them, what mistakes,Of various kind, their various reason makes!

Allare for one same rule ; and in its use

Allsingly clear, and mutually abstruse.

W hat plainer demonstration can be had,That their original pretence is bad;Who say

— Their own , or human reason’s light

Must needs direct them to determine right?

W hat greater proof of a superior skil lNeedful to reas

’ners, reason how theywill?

Sense to discern, and Reason to compare,Are gifts that merit our improving care ;

Butwant an inward light, when all is done,As seeds and plants do that of outward sunMain help neglected, taste less fruits arise ;And wisdom grows insipid in the wise.

86

Tho’ all these reason-worshippers professTo guard against fanatical excess ;Enthusiastic heat, their fav

’

rite them’

e,

Draws their attention to the cold extreme ;Their fears of torrid fervors freeze a soul ;To shun the zone they send it to the pole.

The very sound of rational and pla in

Contents,—where sense is neither of the twain,A world of readers ; whose polite concern

Is to be learned, without pains to learn.

To please their palates with a modish treat,Cheap is the cost, and here is the receipt

Let reason, first, imagination, passions,Be clean dress’d up in pretty-worded fashions;Then let Imagination, P assions, Reason,Change places routid, at. each commodious season ;Till Reason, P assions, and ImaginationHave prov

’d the point, by their cOmplete rotation.

FAITH,R EASON, AND SIG HT,

CONSIDERED AS

THERE is a threefold correspondent 1That shines tofaith, to reason, and to si

The first, eternal, - bringing into viewCe lestial objects, if thefaith be true;The next, internal,—which the reas

’

ning mindConsults in truths of an idealkind;The third, external, —and erceiv

’d therebyAlloutward objects that a cat the eye.

Each light is goodwithin its ,deStin’d sphere ;Nor with each other do they interfere.

Faith does not reason, reason does not see,Nor sight extend beyond a fixt degree

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88

Is equal ly absurd; but worse to slight,Or want the benefit offaith, than si ht

If hewho sees no outward light be h ind,Howdismal darkmust be thefaithless mind!The one is on! naturaldefect,The other wil obstinate neglect;

P retence of Reason — for it is pretence

Foolish and fatal, in the saddest sense ;For Reason cannot alter what is true,Or any more prevent than eyes can do ;Both, by the l imits which they feel, proclaimThe real want of a Celestial FlameHow is it possible to see, in fine,The things of G OD without aLight Divine?

D IAL OG UEBETWEEN

RUSTICUS, THEOP HILUS AND ACADEMIOUS,

Nature, P ower, and Use of Human Learning,

IN MATTERS OF RELIG ION .

From Mr. Law’s Way to Divine Knowledge.

RUST. YES, Academicus, you love to hearThe words of J acob Behmen made so clear ;But the truth is, the fundamental goodAt which he aims, you have not understood;Contentwith such good notions as befit

Your learned reason and your searching wit,To make a talk about, you gather stil lMore ample matter for your hear- say ski llYou know yourself, as well as I, that thisIs allyour joy in him ; and hence it isThat you are so impatient, ev

’ry day,

For more andmore of what his pages say;

89

So vex’d and puzzled, if you cannot find

Their meaning open’d to your eager mind;

Nor add new notions and a stronger force,To heighten stil l your talent of discourse.

W ith allyour value for his books, as yetThis disposition makes you to forgetHow oft they tellyou, and howwel l they shew,That this inordinate desire to know,

This heaping up of notions, one by one,

For subtle fancy to descant upon,W hile Babel,as you think, is overthrown,Is building up a new one of your own ;Your Babylonish reason is the pow

’r,

That seeks materials to erect its tow’r.

The very scriptures, under such a guide,W ill only nourish your high

- soaring pride ;Nor will you penetrate, with allyour art,Of J acob

’s writings the substantial part

”

.

The works of Behmen would you understand?Then, where he stood, see also that you stand;Begin where he began ; direct your thoughtTo seek the blessing only, that he sought

The heart of G od; that, by a right true faith,He might be sav

’d from sin and satan’s wrath.

W hile thus the humble seeker stood resign’d,

The light of G od broke in upon his mind

But you, devoted to the pow’r alone

Of speculative reason, allyour own,W ould reach his ladder’s top at once, nor tryThe pains of rising, step by step, so high

But, on this subject, by your looks, I see,You

’d rather hearTheophilus than me.

Tn sorn . W hy real ly, Academicus, the mainOf all that Rusticus, so bluntly plain,Has here been saying, tho

’ it seem so hard,Hints truth enough to put you on your guard.

Much in the same mistake your mind has been,That many of my learned friends are in ;W ho, tho

’admirers to a great degree,

Of truths in J acob Behmen. which they see,VOL. 11. H

90

Yet, of allpeople, have the least pretenceTo real benefit receiv’

d from thence.

Train’d up in controversy and dispute ;

Accustom’d to maintain or to refute

Allpropositions, only b the lightOf their own reason juéi what is right,They take this guide i n tru s of ev’ry kind,Both where it sees and where it must be blind ;So that in regions, where a light divineDemonstrates truth, and reason cannot shine,The real good is hidden from their view,

And some such system rises up in lieu,As birth or education, mode or place,In course of life, has led them to embrace.

Thus with the learned P apist, in his creed,The learned P rotestant is not agreed;Not that to either truth and light have taughtTo entertain so opposite a thought

But education’s contrary supplies

Have giv'

n them protestant andpopish eyes ;And reason being the accustom

’d light

Of both the parties, and of either sight,Decisions protestant, andpopish too,Can find it work enough, and tools enow,

To shape opinions of adifi’rent growth,

W hilst learning is an open field to bothAnd, of its harvest, the inur

’d to reap

W ith greater skill can shew the greater heap.

ACADEM . So then I must, as I perceive by you,Renounce my learning andmy reason too,If I would gain the necessary lightsTo understandwhat J acob Behmen writes.

I cannot yield, as yet, to such advice ;Nor make the purchase at so dear a priceI hope the study of the scripture

- text

W ill do for me ; and leave me unperplex’d

W ith his deep matters.- Little did I know

That learning had, in you, so great a foe.

TH8 0 9 8 . Be not lineu p— learning has in me

No foe at all,not in the least degree ;

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That inward man, who lost it, to restore

To all the bliss which'he was in before ;And, on the other,

’tis the man’

s desire,W ill, faith, and how, which earnestly aspireAfter that life ; the hunger, thirst, and call

To be deliver’d, by it, from the fall.

Nowwhether man, in this awaken’d strife,

Breathe forth his longings after this good life,In Hebrew, G reek, or any English sound,Or

‘

none at all, but silent sigh profound,Can be of no significancy

— He,That knows but one, or uses allthe three, -

1

Neither to him more distant or more near,r

W ill this redeeming life of G od appear

Can you conceive it more to shine u on

Men of more languagesthan men ozone?He who can make a G rammar for High Dutch,OrW elch, or G reek, can you suppose, as such,In faith, and hope, and goodness, will excelA man that scarce his mother- tongue can spe l l!If this supposal, then, be too absurd,No hurt is done, no enmity incurr

’d,

To learning, science, reason, critic wit,By giving them the places which they fit,Amongst the ornaments of life below,

W hich the most prodi ate aswell mayknow,

One of the most abandon’

d vicious W i ll,As one who, fearing G od, escheweth ill.

Therefore no truths, concerning this divineAnd heav

’nly life, can come within the line

Of all this learning : as exalted farAbove the pow

’r of trial at its bar ;

W here both the jury, and thejudges too,Are born with eyes incapable to view;Living and movmg in this world

’s demesne,

They have their bein in another scene ;The life divine no ab er to descry,Than into Heav’

n can look an eagle's eye.

If you, well read in ancient books, my friend,To publish Homer

’s Iliad should intend,

93

O r Caesar’s Commentaries, and make out

Some things more plain, -

you.

have the skill,As wellprovided for the work, perhaps,As one to make his baskets, one his traps ;But if you think that skill in ancient G reek

And Latin, helps you, of itse lf, to seek,Find, and explain the spirit and the senseOf what Christ said, -it is a vain pretence,And quite unnatural ; of equal kindW ith the e ndeavour of a man, born blind,W ho talks about exhibiting the sightOf difi ’

rent colours, beautifully bright.

Doctrines, wherein redemption is concern’d,

No more belong to men, as being learn’d,

Than colours do to him, who never sawThe light that gives to all of tbem ~the law.

From like unnatural attempt proceedsThat huge variety of sects and

'

creeds,W hich, from the same true scripture, can deduceWhat serves each difi ’

rent error, for'

its use :

P apist or P rotestant, Socinian class

Or Arian, can as easily amass

The texts of scripture and by reason’s ray,

One as another, urge the endless fray;Retort absurdities, whenever press

’d

P rove its own system, and confute the rest

J ust as blind men, in their disputes, can do

Each others“notions of red, green, or blue.

The light of the celestial inward man,That died

'

in P aradise, when sin began,Is J esus Christ; and, consequently, men

{S

lyHim alone can rise to life again

e, in the heart of man, must sow the seed,That can awaken heav’

nly Life indeedNothing but this can possibly admitReturn of L ife, or in the least be fitOr capable, or sensible of pow

’r

From J esus Christ, in his redeemin hour.

T he light, and life,whichHe intends to raise,Have no dependence upon wordand phrase;

94

Life, in itself, be it of Heav’n or earth,

Must have its whole procession from a birth.

W ould it not sound absurdly, in your mind,That, if a man be naturally blind,Care must be had to teach him G rammar well,Or in the art of Logic to excel ;That he wi ll best obtain, when this is done,Knowledge of light and colours from the sun?

Yet not one jot i s i t the less absurdTo think that skill in G reek or Hebrewword,Of man

’s redemption can explain the whole,

Or let the L ight of G od into his soul.

This matter, Academicus, if you

Can set in amore proper light— pray do.

P OETICAL VERSION or A LETTER,

FROM THE

Earlof Essex, to the Earl of Southampton.

d ths

MY Lord, untaught by nature or by art,To give the genuine dictates of my heart

The gloss of compliment, I never lessThan now should aim at that polite excess ;Now. that mywand

’ring thoughts are fix

’d upon,NotMartha’s many things, butMary

’s one.

’Tis not from any ceremonious view,

But to discharge a real, needful dueFrom friend to friend in absence, that I writeTo mine, secluded from his wonted sight;By force oblig

’d to give, and to receive

A long, perhaps, a last departing leave ;

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96

A serious thought if you can ever lendTo admonition, from your truest friend;If the regard, due to your country, sways,W hich you may serve so many glorious ways ;If an All- rulin R ighteous P ow

’r above

Can rise yourdread of justice or your love ;If you yourself will to yourself be true,And everlasting happiness

'

pursue

Before the joys of any worldly scheme,The short delusions of a pleasing dream;Of which, whatever it may represent,The soul, soon wak’d, must bitterly repent

If these reflections, any of them, find

Due estimation in your prudent mind;Take an account of what is done and past,And, what the future ma demand, forecast;The leagues, whatever they import, re eal,To which good conscience has not set t e seal

And fix your resolution firm,to serve

Him, from whose will no loyalthought can swerve;That gracious G od, from whom, in very deedAllyour abilities and gifts proceed,W hether of bodily or mental trace,W ithout, within, of nature or of grace.

Then He, who cannot possibly denyHimself, or give his faithfulness the lie,W ill honour his true servant, arid im rt

That real peace of mind, that joy of eart

Of which until you are become possess’d,

Your heart, your mind shall never be at rest

And'

when you are, by having wellapprov’d

The one true way, it never shall be mov’d.

fl ish l foresee, your lordship may object,Is melancholy

’s vaporous efl

'

ect5

That I am got into a pris’ner

’s style

Far enoughfrom it, all thejocund whileThat I wasfree like you and other men;

And,fetters gone, should be the same again.

To which I answer Say it tho’

you should,Yet cannot I distrust a G od so good,

97

Or mercy failing me, so greatly shewn,Or grace forsaking, but by faultmy own.

8 0 deeply bound to Him, my heart so burns

To make his mercy suitable returns,

That not to try, of all ih’apostate clam

W orse should I be than any ever wasI have with such repeated, solemn stress,

Avow’

d the penitence which I profess ;Fromtime to time so call

’d on not a few,

To witness, and to watch if itwas true,That of allhypocrites, if found to lie,That e

’erwere born, the hol lowest were I.

But should I perish inmy sins, and drawUpon myse lf my own damnation’

s law,

W ill it not‘be your wisdom to embrace

G od’s oifer’d mercy of a saving grace?

To profit by example, if you see

The fearful case of miserable me?

A longer time was I a slave to sin

And a corruptedworld, than you have been ;many a too, too

- slowly-answer’d call,That made stil l harder my return from thrall .To come to Christ was re uisite, I knew,

But softer pace, I flatter’dme, would do

The journey’s end, contented, I remain’d

To see and own, tho’stil l ’twasunattain’d.

Therefore the same good providence that call’d,

W itha kind violence has pull’d and haul’d;

As public eye may, outwardly at least,Have seen, and dragg

’dme to the marriage feast.

Kind, in this world, afiliction’s heaviest load,

That in number bliss might be bestow’d;

K ind the repeated stripes, that should correct

Of too great knowledge a too small effect.G od grant your lordship may, with less al loy,Feel an unfeign

’d conversion‘

s inwardjoy,As I do now; andfind the happy way,W ithout the

’

torments of so long delay!

To the divines (and there were none beside

That nam’d conversion to me) I replied

98

Could my ambition enter and possess

Your narrow hearts, your meekness would be less;W ere my delights, to which it gives the rise,Tasted by you, youwould be less precise .

”

But you, my lord, have the momentous hint,From one that knows the very utmost stintOf all that can amuse youwhilst you live,Of all contentments which the world can give.

Think then, dear earl, that I have stak’d and buoy

’d

The ways ofpleasure, fatally enjoy’d,

And set them up, as marks at sea, for you

To keep true virtue’s channel in your view

Think, tho’

your eyes should long be shut and fast,They must, they must be open

’d at the last

Truthwill compel you to confess, like me,That to the wicked peace can never be.

W ith my own soul, (that heav’n may deign to aid

My heart’s address,) this covenant is made ;

My eyes shal l never yield to sleep at night,

Nor thoughts'

attend the bus’ness of the ight,

Til l I have pray’

d my G od, that youmay take

This plain, but faithful warning for his sake,W ith a be lieving profit —then in you

Your friends, your country wil l be happ too ;

And allyour aims succeed.— Events so b est

W ould fillwith comfort, not to be express’d,

Your Lordship’s cousin and true friend, - so tied

That worldly cause can never once divide

ESSEX.

THE ITALIAN BISHOP .

AN ANECDOTE .

THERE is no kind of a fragmental note,That pleases better than an anecdote,Or fact unpublish

’d,when it comes to rise,And give the more agreeable surprise

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100

Thus lookin up, and down, and round about,R ight use ofeyes may find my secret out :

W i th heav’n in view— his real home— in fine,

Nothing on earth should make a man repine.

”

RESIG NATION .

TO A FRIEND IN TROUB LE

DEAR child, know this, that He who gave thee breathAlmighty G od, is Lord of life anddeath,And all things that concern them, such as these,Youth, health, or strength; age . weakness, or disease;W herefore, whatever thy aflliction be,Take it as coming from thy G od to thee

W hether to teach thee patience be its end,Or to instruct such persons as attend,That faith and meekness, tried by suf fi ngs past,May yield increase of happiness at last ;Or whether it be sent for some defect,W hichHe, who wants to bless thee,would correctCertain it is, that if thou dost repent,And take thy cross up patiently, when s

'

ent,

Trusting in Him,who sends it thee, to take

For J esus Christ, his Son, thy Saviour’s sake,

W hol ly submitting to His blessed wil l,W hose visitation seeks thy profit still ;All that thou dost or ever canst endure,W ill make thy everlasting joy more sure.

Take therefore what befals thee, in good part,As a prescription of love’s healing art;W hom the Lord loveth he chastiseth too,

Saith P aul, and scourgeth with a saving view;It is the mark, by which he ownsa child,W ithout it, not so honourably stil

’d;Fathers according to the flesh,

—when theyCorrect them,

—children rev’rence and obey

101

Howmuch more justly may that Father claim,Bywhom we live eternally, the same?

They oft chastise thro’ humour of their own,He always for our greater good alone ;Chast

’ning, below, that we may rise above

Holy, and happy in our father’s love.

”

These things for comfort and instruction fit,In holy scripture, for our sakes, are writ.Thatwith a patient and enduring mind,In all conditions we may be resign

’d;

And reverencing our Father and our Friend,Take what his goodness shal l be pleas

’d to send.

W hat greater good, considering the whole,Than Christ

’s own likeness in a christian soul

B patient suif’ring? Thinkwhat ills, before

e enter’d into joy, our Saviour bore ;

W hat things he sufi’

er’d to retrieve our loss,

Andmake his way to glory, thro’the cross,

The way for us ; he wanted none to make,But for the poor lost human sinners

’sake

For them he sufl'

er’d more than words can tell,

Or thought conceive ; reflect upon it wel l,Dear child!and whether life or death remains,Depend on Him to sanctify thy pains ;To be Himself thy strong defence and tow’

r,

To make thee know and feel his saving pow’r

Still, taught by Him, repeat— Thywill be done

And trust in G od thro“his beloved Son.

P oetical Version Of a Letter,

ON RESIG NATION,

J acob Behmen, to a Friend in Trouble.

DEAR Brother in our Saviour Christ—His graceAnd love premis

’d, in your afflictive case ;I have consider

’d of it, and have brought

The whole,with christian sympathetic thought,

102

Before the willofThe Most High, to see

W hat it would please him to make known to me.

And thereupon, I give you, Sir, to know,

W hat a true insight He was pleas’d to shew,

Into the cause and cure ofallyour grief

And present trial ; which I‘

shall, in brief,Set down fbr a memorial, and declareFor you to ponder with a serious care.

First then, the cause, to whichwe must amigoYour strong temptation, is the love divine,The goodness supernatural, aboveAll utt

’rance, flowing from the G od of love ;

Seeking the creaturely and human will,To free it from captivity to ill

And then the struggle with so great a grace,In human wil l, refusing to embrace ;Tho

’tender

’d to it with a love so pure,

It seeks itself, and strives against a cure ;

From its own love to transitory thingsMore than to G od, the real evil springs.

’Tis man’s.own nature, which, in its own life,

Or centre, stands in enmity and strife,And anxious selfish, doing what it lists,(W ithout G od

’s love) that tempts him and resists

The devil also shoots his fiery dart,From grace and love to thrn away the heart.

This is the greatest trial ;’tis the fight,

Which Christ, with his internal love and light,Maintains within man’s nature, to dispe lG od

'

s anger, satan, sin, and death, and hell ;The human self or serpent to devour,And raise an angel from it by his pow

’r.

Now if G od’s love in Christ did not subdue,In some degree, this selfishness in you,Youwould have no such combat to endure ;The serpent then , triumphantly secure,

W ould, unoppos’d, exert his native right,

And no such conflict in your soulexcite.

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104

As Lucifer, this nature stil l would claimFor own propriety the heav

’nly flame ;

And elevate its fire to a degree,Above the light

’s good pow

’r, which a nnot be.

This domineering self, this nature fire,Must be transmuted to a love desireNow,when this change is to be undergone,It looks for some own pow

’r,

'

and, finding none,

Begins to doubt ofgrace, unwil ling quiteTo yield up its self-willing nature

’s right.

It ever quakes for fear, andwill'

not die

In ht divine, tho’to be blest thereby :

The ight of grace it thinks to be deceit,Because it worketh gently without heat:Mov

’d too by outward reason , which is blind,And of itself sees nothing of this kind.

W ho knows, it thinketh, whether it be trueThat G od is in thee, and en lightens too?Is it not fancy? for thou dost not see

Like other people, who, as well as thee,Hope for salvation by the grace of G od,W ithout such fear and trembling at his rod.

Thus the poor soul, accounted for a fool,By all the reas

’ners ofa gayer school,

53

1all the graver people who embrace

ere verbal promises of future grace,Sighs from its deep internal ground, and pants

'For such enlightn’ning comfort as itwants ;

And fain would have —but nature can, alas!Do nothing of itself to bring to pass ;And is, thro

’ its own impotence, afraidThat G od rejects it, andwill give no aid;W hich, with regard to the self-will, is true ;For G od rejects it, to implant a new.

The own self-wil l must die away, and shine,Rising thro

’ death, in savingwil l divine ;And, from the opposition which it triesAgainst G od

’swill, such great temptations rise

105

The devil too is loth to lose his prey,And see his fort cast down, if it obey.

For, if the life of Christ within arise,Self- lust, and false imagination dies ;W ho lly it cannot in this presentBut by the flesh maintains the daily strife ;Dies, and yet lives ; as they alone can tell,In whom Christ fights against the pow

’re of hell.

The third temptation is in mind andwill,And flesh and blood, if satan enter still ;W here the false centres lie in man, the springs

Of pride, and lust, and love of earthly things ;And all the curses wish’d by other men,W hich are occasion

’

d by this devil’s den .

These in the astral spirit’“bmake a fort,

W hich all the sins concentre to support ;And human will, esteeming for its joyW hat Christ, to save it, combats to destroy,W il l not resign the pride-erected tow’

r,

Nor live obedient to the Saviour’s pow

’r.

Thus I have giv’n you, loving sir, to know

W hat our dear Saviour has been pleas’d to shew

To my considerai ion ; now, on this,Examine wel l what your temptation isW e must leave

'

all, andfollowHim, He said,R ight Christ

- like poor, like our Redeeming Head.

Now, if self- lust stick yet upon your.mind,Or love of earthly things of any kind,Then, from those centres, in

‘their working force,

Such a temptation will rise up of course :

If youwill fol low, when it does arise,My child- like counsel, hear what I advise.

Several excellent observations occur in this letter ; but they are so

seloped in mystical expressions as to be nearly'

un intelligible to no

:es . Unless the friend, to whom it is addressed,were among the in

ited in Behmen’s philosophy he would receive little consolation from

perusal. The devil’sfort,false centres, the astralspirit, are terms pecur to Mysticism,and differmuch from the lain expressions ofscripture,iich cannot be equalled, in sip ificancy, by thewords ofman’

swisdom.

VOL. i i . I

106

Fix your whole thought upon the bitter wee,W hich our dear Lordwas pleae

’d to undergo ;Consider the reproach, contempt, and scorn ,

The worldly state so poor and so forlorn,W hich he was so content to bear; and then,His sufi ’

ring, dying for us sinful men.

And thereunto give up your whale desire,And mind, andwill; and earnestly aspire

To be as like Him as you can ; to bear,

(Andwith a patience bent to persevere)All that is laid upon you; and to make

His process yours, and purely for His sake ;

For love of Him, most free to embrace

Contempt, affliction, poverty,All that can happen, so you may but gain

'His blessed love within you, and maintain ;No longer willing W i th a self-desire,But such as Christ within you shall inspire.

Dear sir, I fear lest something still m uss,

Averse to Him, cause such a strife as this

He wil ls you, in his death, with Himto die

To your own will, and to arise therebyIn his arising ; and that life to live,W hich He is striving in your soul to give.

Let go all earthly will ; and be resign’d

W holly to Him, with allyour heart and mindBe joy or sorrow, comfort or distress,Receiv

’d alike, for He alike can bless,

To gain the victory of christian faith

Over the world and all satanic wrath.

So shall you conquer death, and hell, and sin ;And find, at last, what Christ in you .hath beenBy sure experience wil l be understoodHow all hath happen

’d to you for your good

Of allhis children this hath been the way;And christian love here dictates what I say.

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108

S O L IL OQU Y,

ON THE

CAUSE AND CONSEQUENCE OF A DOUBTIN G M IND.

I MUSE, I doubt, I reason, and debateh

Therefore I am not in that perfect state,In which, when its creation first began,G od plac

’d his own beloved Image, man ;From whose high birth, at once design

’d for,all,

This ever poring reason proves a fal l .

W hilst Adam stood in that immortal life,W herein pure truth excluded doubt and strife,He knew, he saw, by a diviner light,Allthat was good for knowledge or for sight ;But when the serpent

- subtlety of hel lBrought him to doubt and reason— then he fell.

Fell, by declining from an uprightwill,And sunk into a state ofgood and ill

The very state of such a world as thisBecame a death to his immortal blissB liss, which his reason gave him not, beforeThe loss ensu’

d, nor after could restore.

From him descending, all the human race

Must needs partake the nature ofhis case

J ust as the trunk, the branches, or the fruit,Derive their substance from the parent root :

W hat life or death into the father came,The sons, tho

’

guiltl'

em, could.but have the same.

If I am one, if eve r I must liveThe blissful life, which G od desigu

’d to give ;As reason dictates, or as some degree

Ofhigher light enables one to see,

It cannot rise from being born on earth,W ithout a second, new, and heav

’nly birth.

109

The gospel doctrine, which assures to menThe joyful truth ofbeing born again ,Demands the free consent of every will,That seeks the good, and to escape the ill

In all the sav’d, right reason must allow

Such birth effected, tho’ it knows not how.

Such was the faith in Life ’

s Redeeming Seed,Ofpoor fali

’n man the comfort and the creed

Suchwas the hope before and since the flood,In ev

’ry time and place, ofall the good:

Till the newBirth of J ESUS, from above,.

Reveal’d below the Mystery ofLove.

His virgin birth, life, death, and re-ascent,

Explain what all G od’s dispensations meant

G od give me grace to shun the doubting crime!

Since nothing follows intermediate time,But life, or death, eternally to ruleA blessed christian, or a cursed fool .

P LAIN ACCOUNT

OF THE

NATURE AND DESIG N OF TRUE RELIG ION.

WHAT is Religion?—W hy it is a cure,

G iv’n in the G ospel, gratis, to the poor,

By J esus Christ, the healer of the soul ;W hich all, who take, are sure to be made wholeAnd they who will not, all the art ofman

May strive to cure them, but it never can .

Curefor what malady — For that of sin,From whence all other maladies begin ;It had its rise in Adam, first ofall;And allhis Sons, partaking ofhis fal lW ant a newAdam to beget them free

From a n and death; and J esus Christ is He.I 2

110

How is it giv’n?—By raising a newbirth

Of heav’nly l ife, surviving that of earth;

W hich may, at any time, at some it must

Return its mortal body to the dust ;And then the horn of G od in Christ againW ill rise immortal, true angelic men.

PVhy in the G ospel-G ospel is, indeed,

In its true living sense, the holy seed,By G od

’s great mercy, first, in Adam sown,

And first, in Christ, to ful l perfection grownFulness, from which allholy souls derive,And bodies too, the pow

’r to bealive.

Why G RATIS giu’n?—Because the love-desire

Of G od, in Christ, can never work for hire :Its nature is to love for loving

’s sake,

To give itself to ev'

ry wil l to take ;To them it brings, amidst the darkestnight,Its life and immortality to light.

Why to the poor?— Because they feel theirwant,W hich trust in riches. is so loth to grant : ,

The rich have something which they call their own;The poor have nothing, but to Christ aloneThey owe themselves, and pay him what they owe,Andwhat religion is they only know.

THE TRUE MEANING

OF THE

SCRIPTURE TERMS LIFE and DEATH,

”

TRUE life, according to the scripture plan,Is G od’s own likeness in his image, than ;This was the life that Adam ceas

’d to live,Or lost by sin ; and therefore could not give :So that his offspring, all the born on earth,Want a newparent ofthis ,heav

’nly birth.

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112

False worship, paid at all its various shrines,One same departure from his love defines,

By love to Him blest angels kept their state ;W hich the apostate lost by cursed hate ;

Setting up self in the Anuten'

n’s room,

It sunk them down into its dreadful gloomOn separation from his love, the source

Of allfelicity was lost, of course.

By love to Him, the first-created man

W as highly blest; til l selfishness began,Thro

’serpentine delusion, to arise,

And tempt above G od’s wisdom to be wise ;

W hen he had chosen to prefer his own,The naked, miserable selfwas known.

Hence we inherit such a life as this,Dead, of itself, to paradisic bliss :Hence all our hopes ofa diviner birth

Depend on Christ, and his descent on earth;Subduing self, as Adam should have done,And loving G od thro

’his Beloved Son.

The Mediator betwixt G od and men,W ho brings their nature back to Him again,Sav

’d from allsinful self, or deadlywrath,Or hellish evil, by the pow

’r offaith

W orking by love, of which it is the strength;And must attain the full true life at length.

Born of this holy, virgin Seed Divine,To a new life within this morta l shrine,The faithful breathe a Spirit from above,And make of self a sacrifice to love :By Christ redeem

’d, they rise from Adam’s fall ,

From earth to Heav’n, where G od is all in all.

P ETER’

s DENIAL OF HIS MASTER.

THO’allforsake thee, master, yet not I ;

I’llgo to prison with thee, or to die,”

Said P eter yet how soon did he deny!

A striking proof, that, even to good-will ,

The help ofgrace is necessary still,To save a soul from fal ling into ill.

His Master told him how the case would be,But P eter could not see himself,— not he ;Till grace withdrew, that he might come to see.

P eter, so valiant on a selfish plan,Quite frighted by a servant maid, began

To curse and swear, and did‘

not know the Man.

’Twas thus that satan sifted him like wheat,And made him think his courage was so great;W hile J ESUS pray

’d that he might see the cheat.

High-minded in himse lf, he fell— how low,

The cock instructed him, foretold to crow:

His real self then P eter came to know.

He that would die with him, tho’allforsook,

Dissolv‘

d in tears, when J ESUS gave a look;And learn

’d humility by love

’s rebuke.

Lesson for us is plain from P eter’s case,

That real virtue is the work ofgrace,And of its height humility the base .

THE CAUSE, coNSEQUENCE, AND CURE

OF

Spiritual P ride.

SUP P OSE a heater burning in the fire

To be alive, to will, and to desire ;To reason, feel, and have, upon the whole,W hat we will call an understanding soul ;C onscious ofpow

’rfulheat within its mold,

And colour bright above the burnish’d gold.

Suppose that pride should catch this heater’s

And from the fire persuade it to depart;

114

To shew itself, and make it to be known,That it can raise a splendour of its own;An own rich colour, an own potent heat,W ithout dependence on the fire, complete.

It leaves, in prospect of so fine a show,

The fiery bosom where it learnt to glow;Cools by degrees, till all its golden hueIs vanish

’d, and its pow’

r of heating too

Its own, once hidden nature domineers,And the dark, cold, self- iron lump appears.

Transfer this feign’d, imaginary pride,

To that which really does too oft betide,W hen human souls, sudu’d with grace divine,Become ambitions, ofthemselves, to shine ;And, proud of qualities which grace bestows,Fcreake its bosom for self- shining shows.

And thence conceive the natural effectsOfpride, in either sii

l

i

gle men, or sects

That for variety of se sh strife

Forsake the one true Cause ofalltrue l ife ;The heav’nly Spirit

-fire of love, withinW hose sacred bosom all their gifts begin.

Fromwhich, if reason, learning, wit, or parts,Tempt their ambition to withdraw their hearts,There must ensue, whatever they may mean,The disappearance of the glowing scene ;

From the most gifted vanishing, of course,When dis-united from its real source.

As only fire can possibly restore

The heater‘

s force, to what it was before ;So that of love alone consumes the dross

Ofwrathful nature, - and repairs its loss ;It wil l again unite with alldesire,That casts itself into the holy fire.

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[ 16

Me, said the beggar, many days befall,But none of them unfortunate at all

G od bless thee, answer pla inly, I request,Why, lainly then, I never was unblest"

Never? t speakest in a mystic strain ,Which more at large I wish thee to explain .

W ith allmy heart— Thou first didst condescend

To wish me kindly a good morning, friend ;And I replied, that I remember

‘

d not

A bad one ever to have been my lot :

For, let the morning turn out how itwil l,I praise my G od for ev

’ry new one stil l

If I am pinch’dwith hunger

'

or with cold,It does not make me to let go my hold;Stil l I praise G od— Hail, rain, or snow, I take

This blessed Cordial, which has pow’r to

The foulest morning, to my thinking, faFor cold and hunger yield to praise andMen pity me as wretched, or despise ;But whilst I hold this noble exercise,It cheers my heart to such a due degree,That ev’ry morning is stil l good to me.

Thou didst, moreover, wishme lucky days,And I, b reason of continual praise,Said that had none

'

else ; for come whatwouldOn any day, I knew it must be goodBecause G od sent it; sweet or bitter, joyOr grief, by this angelica] employ,Of praising Him, my heartwas at its rest,And tookwhatever happen

’d for the best ;So that in own experience might say,It never new of an unlucky day.

Then didst thou pray—G od bless thee—4 nd I

I never was unblest; for being ledBy the G ood Spirit of imparted graceTo praise his name, and ever to embrace

His righteous'will, regarding that alone,W ith total resignation of my own,I never could, in such a state as this,Complain for want of happiness or bliss ;

Resolv’d, in all things, that the W il l Divine,The Source of all true bleming, should be mine.

_

The doctor, learning from the beggar’s case

Suchwondrous instance of the pow’r of grace,

P ropos’d a question, with intent to try

The happy mendicant’s direct reply

IVhat wouldst than say, said he, should G od thinkfitTo cast thee down to the infernalpit?

He cast me down?He send me into hel lNo— He loves me, and I love Him too wel lBut put the case He should I have two arms

That wil l defend me from allhel lish harms,The one, humility, the other, love ;These I would throw belowHim and above ;One under his Human ity I

’

d place,His Deity the other should embrace ;W ith both together so to hold Him fast,ThatHe should go wherever He would cost,

And then, whatever thou shalt cal l the sphere,Hell, if thouwilt,

’tis Heav’

n if He be there.

Thus was a great divine, whom'

some have thought

To be the justly fam’d Taulerus, taught

The holy art, for which he us’d to pray,

That to serve G od the most compendious way,W as to hold fast a loving, humble mind,Still praising Him, and to his will resign

’d.

F RAG M EN T or A HYM N ,

THE G OODNESS OF G OD .

O G oodness of G od!more exceedingly great

Than thought can conceive, or than wordhflcan repeat;

W hatsoever we fix our conceptions upon,

It has some kind ofbounds, but thy goodness has none

As it never began, so it never can end,But to all thy creation will always extend;All nature partakes of its proper degree,But the self-blindedwill that refuses to see .

W hensoever new forms of creation began,Thy goodness adjusted the beautiful plan ;Adjusted the beauties ofbody and soul,And plac

’d in the centre the good of the who le ;

That shone, like a Sun the circumference round,To produce all the fruits of beatified groundTo display, in each possible shape and degree,A G oodness eternal, essential to Thee.

B lest orders ofangels surrounded thy throne,Before any evil was heard of or known ;Till a self- seeking Chief

’s unaccountable pride

Thine immutable rectitude falsely belied;And despising the G oodness that made him so bright,W ould become independent, and be his own light ;And indue

’d all his host to so monstrous a thing,

As to act against nature’s OmnipotentKing.

Then did evil begin, or the absence of good,W hich from Thee could not come from a creature it couldW ho, made in thy likeness, allha py and free,Could only be good as an image 0 theeW hen an angel profan

’d his angelical trust,And departed from order, most righteous andjustSelf-depriv

’d ofthe light, that proceeds from thy throne,He fel l to the darkness, by nature, his own.

For nature itself is a darkness express,Ifa splendour from thee does

'

not fill it and bless ;An abyss of the pow

’re ofallcreaturely life,

W hich are, in themselves, but an impotent strifeOfaction, re-action, and whirling around,Till the rays of thy light pierce the jarring profoundTil l thy G oodness compose the dark, natural storm,

And enkindles’the bliss of light, order, and form.

Thy unchangeable G oodness, when wrathwas begun,Soon as e

’er it beheldwhat an angel had done,

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120

Universal G ood,

THE OB J ECT o r THE DIVINE WILL ;

AND EVIL,

Necessary Effect of the Creature’s Opposition to it.

THE G od of love, delighting to bestow,

Sends down his blessing to the world belowA grateful mind receives it, and above

Sends up thanksgiving to the G od of loveThis happy intercourse could never fail,Did not a false, pervertedwil l prevail .

For love divine, as rightly understood,Is an unalterable will to goodG ood is the obj ect ofHis blemed will,W ho never can concur to real ill;Much less decree, predestinate, ordain

W ords oft employ’d to take His name in vain.

But he permits it to be done, sayyou

P lain, then, I answer, that He does not do ;That, having will

’d created angels free,He stil l permits or wills them so to be ;W ere His permission ash’d, before they did

An evil action, He would soon forbid.

Before the doing He forbids indeed,But disobedient creatures take no heed

If He, according to your present plea,W ithdraws his grace, and so they disobey,The fault is laid on Him, not them at all

For who can stand whom He shal l thus let fall?

Our own neglect must be the previous cause,W hen it is said the grace of G od withdraws ;In the same sense, as when the brightest dawn,Ifwewill shut ourwindows, is withdrawn ;

121

Not that the sun is ever the less bright,But that our choice is not to see the light.

Free to receive the grace, or to reject,Receivers only can be G od’s elect;Rq

'

ecters of it, reprobate alone,Not by D ivine Decree, but by their own :His love to all, his willing none to sin,Is a decree that never could begin.

It is the order, the eternal law,

The true free grace, that never can withdraw;Observance of itwill, of course, be blest,And opposition to it self-distress’d;To them, who love its gracious Author, allWillworkfor good, according to St. P aul.

An easy key to each abstruser text,That modern disputants have so perplex

’d;W ith arbitrary fancies on each side,From G od

’

s pure ,love, or man

’s free-will denied;

W hich, in the breast of saints, and sinners too,May both be found self- evidently true.

I

DISINTERESTED LOVE OF G OD .

THE love of G odwith genuine rayInflam’

d the breast of good Cambra

‘yf“

And banish’d from the prelate’s min

All thoughts of interested kind

Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambray, wrote amysticalboolr, entitled,Explication of the maxim of the Saints concerning the anterior life in

ich he seemed to favour the extravagant notions of Madame G uion,I the principles of Quietism. For this he was obliged to leave thein of France for ever, after having been upwards of seven yearsor to the Dukes of Burgundy and Anjon . In him were combi ned,hout injury, the good Divine and the able olitician -

z-an union yery

irable, yet seldom found. He was aman 0 great genius, deep piety,lof extensive attainments.

VOL. 11.

He saw, andwriters ofhis claw,

(Of too neglected worth, alas!)Disinterested Love to

ie

The G ospel’s very A C .

W hen our redeeming Lord began

To ractice it.Himself, as Man ;Andi for the joy then set before

His loving view, such evils bore ;Endur

’d the cross, despis’d the shame

Had He an interested aim?Surely the least examinationShews, that the joy was our salvation.

For us He sufl'

er’d, to make known

The love that seeketh not its own ;Stifl

'

er'

d, what nothing but so pure

A love couldpossibly endure

No less a sacrifice than this

Could bring poor sinners back to bliss ;Or execute the saving planOf reuniting G od and man.

This love was Abram’s shield and

W as his exceeding great reward;This love the P atriarchal eye,And that of Moses, could descry;In this disinterested sense,They sought reward or recompense,C ity or country, beav

’a above,

The seat of purity and love.

This the high calling, this the prize,The mark of P aul’s so steady eyes;For, with the self- forgetting P aul ,P 0116 love of G od in Christ was allThe text of the beloved J ohnHasall, thatwords can say, in one ;

on is Love— compendious WholeOfall the blessings of a soul.

What helps to this a soul may want,P ure love is ready still to grant ;

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124

No bought-and-

paid-for love be mine",

I will have no demands to make ;Disinterested, and divine

Alone, that fear shal l never shake.

Thou, my Redeemer, from above,Suffering to such immense degree,Thy heart has kindledmine to love,

That burns for nothing but for Thee.

Thy scourge, thy thorns, thy cross; thy wounds,Are, ev

’ry one of them,a source,

From whence the nourishment abounds

Of endless love’s unfading force.

These sacred fires, with holy breath,Raise in my mind the gen

’rous strife ;

W hile, by the ensi ns of thy death

Known, I adore the ord ofLIFE.

Extinguish all celestial light,The fire of love wil l not go out ;

The flames of hel l extinguish quite,Love will pursue its wonted route.

Be there no hope if it persist

P ersist it will, nor ever cease ;No punishment if

’tis dismiss

’d

W hat caus’d it not wil l not decrease.

Shouldstthou give nothing for its pains,It claims not any thing as due ;Shouldst thou condemn me, it remains

Unchang’d by any selfish view.

Let Keav’a be darken’d, if it will

Let hel l with all its vengence roar;

My G od alone remaining, stil lI’ll love Him, as I did before.

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The MEANING of the WORD “WRATH,

”

as AP P LIED no con mi scmrrvas.

THAT G od is love is in the scripture said;That He is wrath— la no where to be read ;From which, by literal expression free,Fury (He saith himself) is not in ,

me

If scripture, therefore, must direct our faith,Love must be He, or in Him ; and not wrath.

And yetthe wrath of G od, in scripture phrase,Is oft express

’d, and many difi‘ren t ways

His anger, fury, vengeance, are the terms,W hich the plain letter of the text aflirms

And plain , from two of the apostles’ Choir,

That G od is love—and a consumingfire,

Ifwe consult the reasons that appear,Tomake the seeming difficulty clear,W e must acknowledge, when .we lookabove,That G od, as G od, is overflowing loveAnd wilful sinners, when we look below,

Make (what is call’d) the wrath o fG od to flow.

Wrathfas St. P aul saith, is the treasur’d part

an impertitently harden’d heart

hen love reveals its own eternal life,Then wrathand anguish fall on evil strife ;Then lovely justice, in itselfall bright,Is burning fire to such as hate the light.

Ifwrath and justice be indeed the same,No wrath in G od— is liahle to blame ;If not ; if righteous judges ma and must

Be free themselves from wrat if they be just,Such kind of blaming may, with equal sense,Lay on ajudge the criminal

’s offence.

G od, in Himselfunchangeable, in fine,Is one, eternalLight of love divine ;

K 2

126

In Him there is no darkness, saith St. J ohn,In Him no wrath— the meaning is allone ;’Tis our own darkness, wrath, sin, death, and hell,Not to love Him, who first lov

’d us so well .

The MEANING (y the WORD WHATH,

M USTRATED IN A

COMMENT ON THE FOLLOWING SCRIP TURE

G od oo loved the World . thatHegavehtc only be‘otten Son, M esa-m ar ksm ansrhonld notpertch, but haw ewfladwufe (St' J d n m-w.)

G od so loved the world .

'— By how tender a phraseThe design ofhis Father our Saviour displays!Love,

‘

according to Him, when the worldwas undone,W as the Father

’s sole reason for giving his Son.

No wrath in the G iver had Christ to atone,

But to save a poor perishing world from its own.

A belief in the Son carries with it a faith,That the Motive P

'

aternal was love, and not wrath.

’ry good, perfect gift, cometh down from above,

From the Father of lights, thro’the Son ofhis Love.

As in Him there is nonhriation or change,Neither shadowof turning, itwel l may seem Strange

That, when scripture assures us so plainly, that He,His will, race, or gift, is so perfectly free,Any word

gshould be strain

’d toinculcate a thought

aOfa wrath in his mind,‘

or a change to be'wrought.

Allwrath is the product of creaturely am;In immutable lovetét could never begin ;Nor, indeed, in a creature, til l opposite willTo the love of its G on had brought forth such an ill;To the love that was pleas

’d to“communicate Bliss

In such endless degrees, thro’all nature

's abyss}:

Nor couldwrathhave been'

known, had not thanleftthem ,

In which nature’s G ODwas pleas’dman to create.

He saw, when the world in its purity stood,Every thing He had made, and Behold it was goodAnd the man, its one ruler

,before his sad fall,

As the image ofG OD, had the gobdness ofall

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Then, to G OD and his justice it giveth the lie,And its darkness and Wrath are discover

’d therebyW hat before was subservient to life, in due place,Then usurps the dominion, and death is the case ;

W hich the Son of G OD only could ever subdue,By doing all that which love gave Him to do.

Ifthe anger of G OD, fury, wrath, waxing hot,And the like human phrases that scripture has got,Be insisted upon, why not also the rest,

W here G OD, in the language ofmen, is expresa’d

In a manner. which, allare oblig’d to confess,

No defect in his nature can mean to express?

W ith a G OD, who is love, ev’ry word should agree;

W ith G OD, who hath said, Fury is not in me.

The disorders in nature, for none are in G OD,

Are intitled his vengeance, his wrath, or his rod,L ike his ice, or his frost, his plague, famine, or sword

”

That the love, which directs them, may still be ador’d;

Directs them, til l justice,— call’d his or call

’d ours,

Shall regain, to our comfort, its primitive pow’re;

The true, saving justice, that bids us endureW hat love shal l prescribe, for effecting our cure.

By a process of love, from the crib to the cross,

D id the Only-begotten recover our loss ;And shew in us men how the Father is pleas

’d,W hen the wrath in our nature by love is appeas

’d,W hen the birth ofH18 Christ, being formed within,Dissolves the dark death ofall self-hood and sin ;Till the love that so lov’

d us, becomes once again,From the Father and Son, a life-spirit in man.

THE TRUE G ROUNDS

ETERNAL and IMMUTABLE RECTITUDE.

TH’ Eternal Mind, ev’n heathens understood,

Was infinitelypowerftd, wise, and good

129

In their conceptions, who conceiv’d aright.These three essential attributes uniteThey saw, that, wanting any of the three,Such an All- perfect Being could not be.

For pow’r, fromwisdom sulf

’r

i

ing a divorce,W ould be a foolish, mad, and frantic force

If both were join’d, andwanted goodness still,

They would concur to more pernicious ill

However nam’d, their action could fi t tend

To weakness, folly, mischiefwithout end.

Yet some of old, and some ofpresent hour,Ascribe to G od an arbitrary pow

’r ;

An absolute decree ; amere command,W hich nothing causes, nothing can withstandW isdom and goodness scarce appear in sight ;But all is measur’d by resistless might.

The verbal question comes to this, in fine,Is good, or evil, made by WillDivine,Or such by nature? Does command enact

W hat shal l be right, and then’tis so in fact?

Or is it right, and therefore, we may draw,

From thence the reason of the righteous law?”

Now, tho’tis proof, indisputably plain,

That all is right, which G od shall once ordain ;Yet, ifa thought shal l intervene betweenThings and commands,

’tis evidently seen

That goodwill be commanded : men divide

Nature and laws, which really coincide.

From the Divine, Eternal Spirit springsOrder, and rule, and rectitude of things ;Thro’

outward nature, His apparent throne,V isibly seen, intelligibly knownP roofs of a boundless pow

’r, a~wisdom’

s aid,By goodness us

’d, eternal and unmade.

Cudworth perceiv’d, that what divines advance

For sov’

reignty alone is fate or chance

Fate, after pow’r had made its forcing laws ;

And chance, before, ifmade without a cause

13 0

Nothing stands firm, or certain, in a state

Of fatal chance or accidental fate.

Endless perfections, after all, conspire,And to adore excite and to admire ;

But to plain minds, the plainest pow’r above

Is native goodness, to attract our loveCentre ofall its various power and skillIs one divine, immutable good-will .

THE NATURE AND REASON

or ALL

OUTWARD LAW.

The Sabbath was mode ler Man ; not Mess i er the Sabbath.

[mas s 11.

FROM this true saying one may learn to drawThe real nature ofall outward law ;In ev

’ry instance, rightly understood,

Its ground and reason is the human good

By all its changes, since the world began,Man was not made for law; but law for man.

Thou shalt not eat (the first command ofall)

a;good and ill, was to prevent his fal lhen he became unfit to be alone,

W oman was form’d out ofhis flesh and bone

W hen both had sinn’d, then penitential rief,

And sweating labour, was the law relie

W hen allthe world had sinn’d, save ,one good

Flood was the law that sav’d .its orb from file :

W henfire itselfupon a Sodom fell,It was the law to. stop a growing hell

'

So on —the lawwith riches or with rods,Come as it wil l, is good, for it is G od

’s.

Men who -observe a law, orwho abuse,For u lfishpew

’r, are blind asany Jews ;

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13 2

By its own consciousness is best defin’d,W hichway the heart within me stands inchn’

d.

On what it lets its inclination rest,

To that its real worship is address’d

W hatever forms or ceremonies springFrom custom

’

s force, there lies the real thingJ ew, Turk, or Christian, be the lover’s name,If same the love, religion is the same.

Of allreligions if we take a view,

There is but one that ever can be true ;One G od, one Christ, one Spirit, none but He ;Allelse is Idol, whatsoe

’er it be ;

A good that our imaginations make,Unless we love it purely for His sake.

Nothing but gross idolatr

fy alone

Can ever love it, merely, or its ownIt may be good, that is, may make appear

So much of G od’s one goodness to be clear;

Thereby to raise a true, religious soul,To love of Him, the One Eternal Whole ;

The one Unbounded, Undivided G ood,By allhis creatures partly understood :If therefore sense of its apparent parts

Raise not his love or worship in our hearts,Our selfish wills or notions we may feast,And have no more religion than a beast.

For brutal instinct can a good embrace,That leaves behind it no reflecting trace ;But thinking man, whatever be his theme,Shouldworship G oodness in the G reat Supreme ;By inward faith, more sure than outward sight,Should eye the Source of all that

’s good and right.

Religion then is Love’s celestial force,

That penetrates thro’all to its true source ;

Loves allalong, butwith proportion’d bent,

As creatures further the divine ascent;Not to the skies or stars ; but to the part

That wil l be always uppermost—the Heart.

13 3

There is the seat, as holy writings tell,W here the Most HighHimself delights to dwel l :W hither attracting the desirous wil lTo its true rest, He saves it from all ill;G ives it to find, in his abyssal love,A Heav’

n within, in other words, above.

WORKS of MERCY and COMP ASSION,

CONSIDERED

OF true religion works of mercy seemTo be the plainest proof, in Christ

’s esteem

W ho has himself declar’dwhatHe will sayTo all the nations, at the judgment dayCome” or Depart,

” is the predicted lot

Ofbrotherly compassion shewn, or not.

Then, theywho gave poor hungry people meat,And drink to quench the thirsty sufl

’

rer’

s heat;W ho welcom’

d in the stranger at the door,And with a garment cloth

’

d the naked poor;W ho visited the sick to ease their grief,And went to pris

’ners, or bestow’d relief

These wil l be deem’d religiousmen, to whom

W ill sound— Ye blessed of my Father, come,Inherit ye the kingdom, and partake

Of all the gloriesfoundedfor your sakeYour love to others I was pleas

’d to see,

What you have done to them was done to me.

Then they who gave the hungry poor no food;W ho W llll no drink the parch

’dwith thirst bedew’d;

W ho drove the he lpless stranger from their fold,And let the naked perish in the coldW ho to the sick no friendly visit paid,Nor gave to pris

’ners any needful aid

RM

Thesewil l be deem’d of irreligious mind;And hear the—G o, ye men of cursed kind,To endless woes, which ev

’ry harden

’d heart

For its own treasure has prepar’d—depart :

Shenm to a brother, of the least degree,Your merciless behaviour was to me.

Here, allye learned, full ofalldispute,Of true and false religion lies the rootThe mind of Christ, when he became a man,W ith all its tempers, forms its real plan ;The sheep from goats distinguishing ful l wel lHis love is Hsou

’n ; and want of it is hell.

VE R SE S

DESIG NED FOR AN INFIRMARY.

DEAR loving sirs! Behold, as ye pass by,The poor sick people with a pitying eye :

Let pains, andwounds, and sufl"rings ofeach kind,

Raise up a just compassion in your mind;Indulge a gen

’rous grief at such a sight,

And then bestow your talent, or your mite.

Thus to bestow is really to obtain

The surest blessing upon honest gainTo help th

’

afllicted, in so great a need,B

yyour supplies, is to be rich indeed

T e good, the pleasure, the reward ofwealthIs to procure your fellow—creatures health.

In other cases, men may form a doubt,W hether their aims be properly laid out;But in the objects, here, .before your eyes,No such distrust can possibly arise ;Too plain the miseries!which wel l may m lt

A heart, sincerelywishing them unfelt.

The wise consider this terrestrial ball,AsHeav’

n’s design

’

d Ii mauaavforall,

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13 6

To Thee my longing heart aspires ;To Thee I offer allmy vows

Keep me from false and vain desires,My G od, my Saviour, andmy Spouse!

Henceforth, let no profane delightD ivide this consecrated soul!

P ossess it Thou, who hast the right,As Lord and Master of the whole.

W ealth, honours, pleasures, or what elseThis short- enduring world can give,

Tempt as theywill, my heart repels,To Thee alone resolv

’d to live.

Thee one may love, and thee alone,W ith inward peace and holy bliss ;

And when thou tak’st us for thy own,Oh!what a happiness is this!

Nor Heav’n nor earth do I desire,Nor mysteries to be reveal

’

d;’Tis love that sets my heart on fireSpeakThou the word, and I am heal

’d.

All other graces I resign ;P leae’d to receive, lese

’d to restore

G race is thy gift, it sliiallbe mine

The G IVER only to adore.

HY'

M N ON SIM P LIC ITY .

J ESU !teach this heart of mine

True simplicity to find;Child- like, innocent, divine,Free from guile of ev

’rykind

And since, when amongst us vouchsafing to live,So pure an example it pleae

’dThee to give ;

0 !let me keep stil l the bright pattern i n view,

And be, after thy likeness, right simple and true.

When I read, orwhen I hearTruths that kindle good desires

How to act, and how to bear

What heav’n- instructed faith requires;

Let no subtle fancies e’er lead me astray,Or teach me to comment thy doctrines away;No reas

’nings of se lfish corruption within,

Nor sleights bywhich satan deludes us to sin.

W hilst I pray before thy face,Thou!who art my highest good!

0 !confirm to me the grace,P urchas’d by thy precious blood

That, with a true filial affection ofheart,I may feel what a real Redeemer thou art ;

And, thro’thy Atonement to justice above,

Be receiv’d,as a child, by the Father of love.

G ive me, with a child- like mind,Simply to believe thy word;nd to do whate’

er I find

P leases best my dearest LordResolving to practise thy gracious commands ;To resign myselfwholly up into thy handsThat, regarding Thee simply in allmy employ,I may cry, Abba! Father!” with dutiful joy.

Nor within me, nor without,Let hypocrisy reside ;

But whate’er I go about,Mere Simplicity be guide

Simplicity guide me in word and in W i llL et me l ive— let me die— in simpl icity stillOf an epitaph made me let this be the wholeHere lies a true child, thatwas simple of soul.

J esu!now I fix my heart,P rince of life !and Source of bliss!

Never from Thee to depart,

l l th love shall grant me thisThen, then , 8 allmy heart all its faculties raise,Both here, and hereafter, to sing to thy praise :

O joyful !My Saviour says So let it be!”

AMEN to my sank—Hu mmus! to thee!

von. 11. L

13 8

FAREWELL TO THE WO RLD!

WORLD, adieu, thou real cheat!Oft have thy deceitful charms

Fill’d my heart with fond conceit,Foolish hopes, and false alarms

Now I see, as clear as day,How thy fol lies pass away.

Vain thy entertaining sights;False thy promises renew

’d;

Allthe pomp of thy delightsDoes but flatter and delude

Thee I quit for Heav’n above,

Object of the noblest love.

Farewell honour’s empty pride!

Thy own nice, uncertain gust,’

If the least mischance betide,Lays thee lower than the dust

W orldly honours end in gal l,R ise to-day, to

-morrow fall.

Foolish vanity, farewel l!

More inconstant than the wave ;W here thy soothing fancies dwell,P urrst tempers they deprave

He, to whom I fly from thee,J ESUS CHRlST, shal l set me free.

Never shall my wandering mindFollow after fleeting toys ;

Since in G OD alone I findSolid and substantial joys

J oys that, never overpast,Thro

’eternity shal l last.

Lord, how happy is a Heart,After Thee while it aspires!

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140

Soul’8 Te ndency towards itsTrue Centre.

STONES towards the earth descend ;Rivers to the ocean roll ;

Ev’ry motion has some end

W hat is thine, beloved soul?

M ine is,where my Saviour is ;There with Him I hope to dwell

J esu is the centralbliss ; ~

Love theforce that doth impel.

Truly, thou hast answer’

d right :Nowmay Heav

’n’s attractwe grace,

Tow’rds the Source of thy delight,

Speed along thy quick’ning pace !

Thank theefor thy gen’rous care

Hsou’n , that did the wish inspire,

Through thy instrumentalpray’r,

P lumes thewings of my desire.

Now, methinks, alofl IflyNow, with angels bear a part

G lory be to G od on high!P eace to ev

’ry christian heart

THE DESP ONDING SOUL’S

MY spirit longeth for thee,W ithin my troubled breast;

Altho’I be unworthy

Of so divine a guest.

Of so divine a guestUnworthy tho

’ I be ;

141

Yet has my heart no rest,

Un less it come from thee.

Unless it come from thee ,In vain I . look around ;

In all that I can see,

No rest is to be - found.

No rest is to be found,But in thy blessed love ;

0 !letmy wish he crown’d,

And send it from above

THE ANSW ER.

CHEER up, desponding soul;Thy longing, pleas

’d, I see ;

’Tis part of that great whole,W herewith I long

’d for thee.

W herewith I long’d for thee,

And left my Father’s throne ;

From death to set thee free,To claim thee for my own.

To claim thee for my own,I sufl

'

er’d on the cross

Oh!were my love but known,No soul could fear its loss.

No soul could fear its loss,But, fill

’d with love divine,W ould die on its own cross,

And rise for ever mine.

HYMN TO J ESUS .

(m omm u n N or an W ARD.)

J ESU ' the soul that thinks on thee,How happy does it seem to be !

W hat honey can such sweets impart,As does thy presence to the heart!

No sound can dwe llupon the tongue,Nor ears be ravish

’dwith a song,

Nor thought by pondering be won,L ike that of G od

’s Beloved Son.

J ESU ! the penitent’s retreat,

The wearied pilgrim’s mercy-seat

If they that seek thee are carest,

How are the'

findersof thee blest!

J ESU! the Source of life and lagbht,

That mak’st the mind so blest and right;

Fulness ofj oy'Hioudost Inspire

Beyond the stretch of alldesire.

This can no tongue that ever spoke,Nor hand express by figur

’

d strokeIt 18 experience that mumproveThe pow

’r of J ESUS and His love.

A P ARZ P HRASEON THE

P RAYER, USED IN'

THE CHURCH LITURG Y,

For all Sorts and Conditions of Men.

ITwill bear the repeating again and again,

W ill the pray’r for allsorts an conditions ofmen ;

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144

Meanwhile, tho’ eternity be her chief care,The sufl

"rers in time have a suitable share

She prays to the fatherly goodness of G od,For all, whom aflliction has under its rod ;That inward or outward the cause of their grief,Mind, body, estate, He would grant them relief,Due comfort, and patience ; and finally blessW ith the most happy ending of all their distress.

The compassion, here taught, is unlimited too,And the whole ofmankind the petitioning viewAs none can foresee, whether Christian or not,

W hat afllictions may fall in this world to his lot;The Church, which considers whose providence sends,P rays that allmay obtain its beneficent ends ;And whenever the snfl

’rings, here needful , are past,

By repentance and faithmayhe sav’

d at the last.

The particular mention of such, as desire

To be publickly pray’d for, as made in our quire,

Infers to allothers G od’s merciful grace ;

Tho’ we hear not their names, who are in the like caseIt excites our attention to instances known,Of relations, or neighbours, or friends of our own ;For the pray

’r, in its nature, extends to all those,

W ho are in the same trouble, friends to us or foes;

Allwhich she entreats, for His sake, to be done,W ho sufl

'

er’d to save them,

— Christ J esus, his Son ;In respect to the world, the Redeemer of allTo the church of the faithful, most chiefly, saith

And to them, who shall enhet , whoever they be,In ' the Spirit of Christ, in the highest degree :

How ought such a goodness allminds to prepare,For a hearty Amen to this catholic pray

’r!

The church is, indeed, in its real intent,An assembly, where nothing but friendship is meant;And the utter extinction of foeship andwratBy the working of love, in the strength of its faithThis gives it its holy and cathol ic name,And truly confirms its a ostolic claim ;Shewing what the one viour

’s one mission had been,

G o and teach all theworld —ev’ry creature therein.

145

In the praise ever due to the gospel of grace,Its universality holds the first place :W hen an angelproclaim

’d its glad tidings, the morn

That the Son of the virgin, the Saviour was born ;W

'

hich shall be to allpeople—was said to complete

The angelical message. so good and so great ;Ful l of G lory to G od, in the regions above,And of G oodness to men, is so boundlem a

'

love.

This short supplication, or litany, read,W hen the longer with us is not wont to be said,Tho’ brief in expression , as fully importsThe W ill to allblessings for men ofall sorts;Same brotherly love, by which christians are taughtTo pray without ceasing, or limiting thought;That religion may flourish upon its true plan,Ofglory to G od, and salvation toman.

P RAYER OF RUSBROCHIUS.

tn M rochim was bom in Brabant, caaed Ruislxoech

O MERCIFUL Lord!by the goodwhich ThouI beseech thee to raise a true love in my heartFor thee, above all things

— thee on ly; and thenTo extend to allsorts, and conditions ofmen

Religious or secular ; kindred, or not;

Or near, or far of , or whatever their lot;That be anyman

’s state rich or poor, high or low,

As myself I may love him, Friend to me or foe.

May pay to allmen a becoming respect,Not prone to condemn them for seeming defect

But to bear it, if true, with a patience exempt

From the proud, surly vice of a scornful contempt

5146

If shewn to myself, let me learn to endure,And obtain, by its aid, my own vanity

’s cure

Nor, however di sdain’d, m the spiteful lest shap

By'a sinful return ever think to escape.

Let my pure, simple aim, in whatever it be,Thro

’

praise or dispraise, be my duty to Thee :

W ith a fixt resolution, still eyeing'

that scope

To admit of no other,— fear be it or hope,But the fear to offend thee, the hope to unite,In thy honour and praise, with allhearts that

. are right,W ishing all the world well ; but intent to fulfil,Be they pleas

’

d or displeas’d, thy adorable will .

P reserve me, Dear Lord, from presumption andpride,That upon my own actions would tempt to confide

Let me have no dependence on any but thine,W ith a right faith and trust in thy merits

jdivine

Stil l ready prepar’d, in each requisite hour,

Both to will and to work as thou givest the pow’r ;

But may only .thy love flame thro’allmy whole heart,

And a false selfish fire not affect the least part.

To this '

end, let thine arrowpierce deeplywithin,Letting out allthe filth and corruption of si n ;

Allthat in the most secret recesses may'

lurk,To prevent or obstruct thy intention or work0 !give me the knowledge, the feeling, and sense,Of thy all- blessing pow

’r, wisdom, goodness immense!

Of the weakness, the folly, the malice alone,That, resisting thy wil l, I should find in my own!

Never let me forget, never, while I draw breath,W hat Thou hast done for me , thy passion, and death!

The wounds and the griefs of thy body and soul,W hen assuming our nature thou madest it whole ;Taughtest how to engage in thy conquering strife,And regain the access to its true divine lifeLet the sense of such love kindle allmy desire,To be thine my life thro

’

; thine to die and expire.

To hearts, in the bond of thy charity knit,Ev’ry thing becomes easy to do or omit;The labour is pleasant, the sharpest degreeOf mf ring can find consolation in thee :

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148

May I never seek peace, never find a delight,But when I pursue what is good in th sightW hatsoever I do, suffer, fee l to befalBe Thou the sole cause, the one reason of all!

A P RAYER,

FROM

MR. LAW’S SP IRIT OF P RAYER.

OHHeav’nly Father !G racious G od above!

Thou boundless depth of never- ceasing love!Save me from self, and cause me to depart

From sinful works of a long- harden’d heart;

From allmy great corruptions set me free ;G ive me an ear to hear, an eye to see,

A heart and spirit to believe, and findThy love in Christ, the Saviour of mankind.

Made for thyself, O G od, and to displayThy goodness in me, manifest, I pray,B grace adapted to each wanting hour,T y holy nature

’s life-conferring pow

’r

G ive me the faith, the hunger, and the thirst,After the life breath’d forth from thee, at first;Birth of thy Holy J ESUS in my soul ;That I may turn, thro

’ life’s succeeding whole,From ev

’ry outwardwork, or inward thought,

W hich is not Thee, or in thy Spirit wrought.

ON ATTENTION .

SACRED attention! true effectual pray’r !

Thou dost the soul for love of truthprepare.

B lest is the man, who, from conjecture free,To future knowledge shallaspireby thee ;

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Wh o in thy precepts seeks a sure repose,Stays til l he sees,

'nor judges til l he knows ;

Tho’ firm, not rash; tho’eager, yet sedate ;

Intent on truth, can its instruction wait;Aw’

d by thy powerful influence to appeal

To Heaven, which only can itself reveal ;The soul in humble silence to resign,And human will unite to the divine ;Till fir’d at length by Heaven

’s enlivemng beams,

P ure, unconsum’d, the faithful victim flames.

A P RAY ER,

USED av

Francis theFirst, when hewas at War with theEmperor

ALMIG HTY Lord of Hosts, bywhose commandsThe guardian angels rule their destin

’d lands ;Andwatchful, at thy word, to save or slay,Of peace or war administer the sway!Thou, who against the reat G oliah

’s rage ;

Didst arm the stripling avid to engage ;W hen, with a sling, a small unarmed youthSmote a huge

‘

giant, in defence of truth;Hear us, we pray thee, if our cause be true,If sacred justice be our only view;If right and duty, not the wil l to war,Have forc’d our armies to proceed thus far,Then turn the hearts ofall our foes to peace,That war and bloodshed in the land may cease

Or, put to flight by providential dread,Let them lament their errors, not their dead.

If some must die, protect the righteous all,And let the guilty, few as may be, fall.W ith pitying speed the victory decreeTo them, whose cause is best approv

’d by thee ;That sheath’d on all sides the devouring sword,And peace andjustice to our land restor’d,W e all together, with one heart, may singTriumphant hymns to thee, th

’ EternalKing.

15Q

A,

COMM ENT‘

on THE

Following P assage, in the general Confession of Sin ,

USED m THE cannon e tmov :

According to thym cdodard untoMW h M m m

ACCORDING to thypromises—Hereby,

Since it is certain‘

that G od'

cannot lie,

The truly penitentmay allpe‘enge

That race admits them to‘

its open door ;And t ey, forsaking all their former sin,

However great, will freely be let in.

Declar’d—d

all the ministers of peace,G od has assur

’repentance of release ;

And intervenmgp enjtence, we see,Could even change his positive decree ;As in the Ninepites ; if any soul.

Repent, the promise is the sure parole

Unto mankind—not only to the J ws,Christians, or Turks, in writings w ich

'

W rit on the tablet of each conscious heart,Re ent,

—from alliniquit depart;”

Not tgt no purpose ; for, e plain intentIs restoration, if a soul repent.

In Christ—bywhom true scripture has assur’d

Redeeming grace for penitents procur’d;

The fainter hopes, which reason may suggest,Are deeply, by the ospel

’

s aid, impress’d:

’Twas alway hop’d or—was the promis

’d good,But, by his coming, clearly understood.

J ew— J ehovah’s ma ifested love,In Christ, th

’anointed viour from above ;

The demonstration of the saving plan,For allmankind, is G od

’s becoming man

No truth more firmly ascertain‘

d thanRepent, be, faithful, and: restor

’d to bliss.

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h ence comes the sure and certain hope, to use

In Christ; tho’man, as born ofwoman, dies

True life, which Adam died to, at his fal l,And Christ, the sinless Adam, can recall,By a new, heav

’nly birth from Him revives,

And breathes again G od’s holy breath of lives.

A voice from Heav’n bade hearing J ohn record,

Blest are the dead the dying in the Lord

In them, the pray r, which man’s Redeemer wil l’d

That men should pray,” is perfectly fulfill

’d

This perfect sense the words thatwe repeat,Require, to make the pray

’d-for good complete.

Thanks then are due for all the faithfuldead,Departed hence to be with Christ, their Head ;And pray

’r, unfainting, for his

—come ye blest

Come, ye true children, enter into rest ;

Live in_

my Father’s kin and in mine,

In grace, and love, a

CHURCH COMMUNION .

IN SEVEN P ARTS

moma LETTER or MR. LAW’S.

153

This inward truth intendedto be shewn,‘

So far as outward signs can make it known,Is that which gives external modes a worth,J ust in proportion as they shew it forth;J ust as they help, in any outward part,The real, true religion of the heart.

Nowwhat this is, exclusive of all strife,Christians will own to be an inward l ife,Spirit, and pow

’r,— a birth (to say the whole,)

Of Christ himself, brought forth within the soul ;By this all true salvation is begun,And carried on, however it be done.

Christianity, that has not Christ within,Can, by no means whatever, save from sin ;Can bear no evidence of Him, the End,On which the value of allmeans dependChristian Re ligion signifies, no doubt,Like mindwithin, like show of it without.

The wil l of G od, the saving of mankind,W as all that Christ had in his inward mind;All that produc

’d his outward action too,In church communion while a perfect J ew;L ike most of his disciples, til l they came,At Antioch, to have a Christian name.

IfChrist has put an end to rites of old,If new recal l what was but then foretold,The one true church, the real heav’

nly ground,W herein alone salvation can be found,Is still the same ; and, to its Saviour

’s praise,

His inward tempers outwardly displays;

By hearty love, and correspondent rites

Ordain’d, the members to the head unites,

And to each other : In all stated scenes,The life of Christ is what a christian means ;Tho’ change of circumstance may alter those,In this he places and enjoys repose.

Church unity is held, and faith’s increase,

By that of spirit in the bond 0 peace,

154

And righteousness of life ; without this tieFoime

’

are in vain prescrib’d to worship by,

Or temples modell’d; hearts as wel l as hanth,

A holy church and catholic demands.

P ART SECOND.

IF once establish’d the essential part,

The inward church, the temple of the heart,Or house of G od,

.

the substance and the sum

Of what is pray’d for ih— Thy kingdom come

To make an outwatd correspondente true,W e must recur to Christ

’s example too .

Now, in his outward form of life, we findG oodness demonstrated of ev

’ry kind ;

W hat he wasborn for, that he shew’

d throughout;It was the bus’ness that he went about;Love, kindness, and compassion to displayTow’

rds ev’ry object coming in his way.

But love so high, humility so low,

And all the virtues which his actions shew;His doing good, and his enduring ill,Forman

’

s salvation and G od’s holywill,Exceed all terms - His inwai d, outward planW as love to G od, expresa

’d by love toman.

Mark of the church, which he establish’d, then,

Is the same love, same proof of it to men ;W ithout, let sects parade it how they list,Nor church, nor u

'

nit‘

y can e’er subsist;

The name may he”usurp

’d, butwant ofpew’r

W ill shew the Babe] , high or lowthe tow’r.

Andwhere the same behaviour shall appearIn outward form, that was in Christ so clear,There is the very outward church, thatHeW ill’d allmankind to shew, and all to see ;Ofwhich, Whoever'sheWs it from thé heartsIs both an inwardandan ‘

outwhrdpart.

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1556

Whether averse”

the many or the fewTo hold communion in this righteous view,

Their thought commences heresy, their deedSchismatical, tho

’they profess the creed ;

W ays of distributing, if new, should stillMaintain the old communicative will ;

Broken by ev’ry love less, thankless thought,

By not behaving as a christian ought ;By want ofmeekness, or a show ofprideTow’

rds any soul for whom our Saviour died ;W hile this continues, men may pray and preach

In all their forms, but nonewill healthe breach.

W hatever helps an outward form may bringTo church communion, it is not the thing ;Nor a society, as such, nor place,Nor any thing besides uniting grace

They are but accessories, at the most,To true communion of the Holy G host.

This is th’essential fellowship, the tie

W hich alltrue christians are united by;No other union does them any good,But that which Christ cementedwith his blood,As G od andman ; that, having lost it, n ewMight live in unitywith G od again.

W hatHe came down to bring us from above

W as grace and peace, and law- fulfilling love

True s irit-worship, which his Father sought,W as t e sole end of what He did and taught ;That G od

’s own church and kingdom might begin,

Which Moses and the P rophets usher’d in.

P ART FOURTH.

THE church of Christ, as thus you represent,And all the world is of the same extent

J ews, Turks, or P agans may be members too ;This, some may call a dreadful mystic clue,A combination of the Quaker schemesW ith latitudinarian extremes.”

Theymay ; but names, so ready at the cal lOf such4 8 .want them, have no force at all

To overthrowmomentous truths, and plain,The very points of scripture, and the main ;Such as distinguish, in the clearest view,

Th’enlighten

’d Christian from the half-blind J ew.

W hat did the sheet let down to P eter mean,’

W ho call’d the G entiles common or unclean?”

Let P eter answer— G od was pleas’d to shew

That I should call no man whatever so ;In ev

’ry nation he that serves him right

Is clean , accepted, in his equals ight.

If P eter said so, who wil l question P aul?He, in a manner, made this point his all;The real sense .oi what has here been saidIn mystic P aul is plainly to be readNothing but obstinate dislike to termObscures what all the testament aflirms.

The J ews objected, to this gospel clue,A— W

’

hat advantage therefore hath the J ew?Or, of what use is to be circumcis’d?

8 0 may some Christians say to he baptis?d”

rm like questions, like .cnnclusionsdraw,And urge the church, as .they .did, and the law.

Th’Apostle

’s reas

’ning from the common want

Of G od’s free grace ; its universal grantBy J esus Christ ; its reach to allmankind,For whom the same salvation was design

’d,Shews that his church, as boundless as his grace,Extends itself to allthe human race.

W ith pious J ews of old, our K ing impliedThe One True Kingof all the earth beside;W hose regal right, tho

’ he was pleas’d to call

J acob his lot, extended over all

Tho’ Israelgloried in ac

'knowletlg’d light,

Its virtue was not bounded'

by their sight.

So will a Christian piety confem

A church of Christ, with boundaries no less ;M 2

158

W ill speak, as e'

v’ry conscious witness ohght,

To what it knows, but scorn the partial thoughtOf grace, or truth, or righteousness confin

’d

To modes and customs of external kind.

THE church consider’d only as possess

’d

Of England, Rome, G eneva and the rest

Notion of church so popularly rife,Such cause of endless enmity and strife,Did but arise in a succeeding hour,W hen Christianscame to have aworldlypow‘r.

The first apostles spread, from place to place,The gospel news of universal grace ;Inviting all to enter, by belief,Into the church of their Redeeming Chief;ntrance accessible in ev

’rypart,

And shut to nothing but a faithless heart.

But when the princes of the world became,And kings, protectors of the Christian name,P ow’

r made ambitious pastors, ease remiss,And churches dwindled into that and this ;The one, divided, came to want, of course,Supports quite foreign to its native force.

Contentions rose, all tending to create

Stil l new alliances of church and state ;

Form’d and reform

’d, and turn

’d

‘

and overturn’d,

As force prevail’d, and human passion buru

’d;

Old revolutions when by new dissolv’d,Both church and state accordingly revolv

'

d.

Such is the mixture ofa human sway.

In all external churches at this day;To the same changes liable, anew,

That forms of government are subject to ;W hile the one church in its true sense, in nameAnd thing remains unchangeably the

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160

What safer remedy than pure intentTo seek the good by any of them meant?

W hich He, who mindeth onlywhat the heartBrings of its own, is ready to impart ;No human pow

’r, should it enjoin amiss

A ceremonious rite, can hinder this.

Even in sacrament, what frequent stormsHas superstition rais

’d about the forms?

In rites baptismal, which the true resultImmersion, sprinkling, infants, or th

’adult?

In the Lord’s Supper, does the celebration

Make trans or can or non- substantiation?

These and a world of controversies more

Serve to enlarge the bibliothecal store ;W hile champions make antiquity their boast,And allpretend to imitate i t most;P rone to neglect, for criticising pique,Essential truths eternal ly antique.

Thus inwardworship lies in low estate,

Opprestwith endless volumes ofdebateAbout the outward; soon as old ones die,Allundecided, comes a new supplyOf needless doubts to a religious soul,W hose upright meaning dissipates the whole.

C lear ofallworldly, interested views,The one design ofworship it pursues ;Turns all to use that public form allows,

‘

By of ring up its ever private vowsFor the success ofallthe good design

’d

By Christ, the common Saviour ofmankind.

P ART SEVENTH.

A CHRISTIAN, in so catholic a sense,Can give to none, but partial minds, ofi

'

ence

Forc’d to live under some divided part,

He keeps intire the union of the heart;The sacred tie of love ; bywhich alone,Christ said, that his disciples would be known.

161

He values no distinction, as profess’d

By way ofseparation from the rest;

Oblig’d in duty, and inclin

’d by choice,In all the good of any to rejoiceFrom ev

’ry evil, falsehood; or mistake,

To wish them free, for common comfort’s sake.

Freedom, to which the most undoubted wayLies in obedience (where it always lay)To Christ himself; who, with an inward call,Knocks at the door, that is, the heart of all;At the reception of this heav

’nly guest,

Allgood comes in, all evil quits the breast.

Thefree receiver then becomes content

W ith what G od orders , or does not prevent

To them that love Him, all things, be is sure,Must workfor good ; tho

’ howmay be obscure

Even successful wickedness, when past,W ill bring to them some latent good at last.

Fall’n as divided churches are, and gone

From the perfection of the christian one,

R espect is due to any, that contains

The venerable, tho’but faint remains

Of ancient rule, which had not, in its view,

The letter on ly, but the Spirit too.

W hen the variety of new- foundwaysW hich people so run after in our days,Has done its utmost ; when Lo here, Lo there,Shal l yield to inward seeking, and sincere ;

W hat was at first, may come to be again

The praise of church assemblies amongst men.

Meanwhile, in that to which we now belong,To mind— in public lesson, pray

’

r, and song,

Teaching, and preaching,—what conduces best

To true devotion in the private breast,W ill ing increase ofgood to ev

’ry soul,

Seems to be our concern, upon the whole.

So G od, and Christ, and holy angels standDispos

’d to ev

’ry church, in ev

’ry land;

162

The growth ofgood stil l helping to complete,W hatever tares be sown amongst the wheatW ho would not wish to have and to excite

A disposition'

so divinely right?

DYING SP EECH.

FROM MR. LAW.

lt ir'

nat theleast“their

without the lea tbm ch

8a “ Clmrch in “

IN this unhappily divided state,

That christian churches have been in of late,One must, however catholic the heart,J oin and conform to some divided part

The Church of England is the part that IHave always liv

’d in and now choose to die ;Trusting, that if I worship G odwith herIn spirit and in truth, I shal l not err;But as acceptable to Him be found,As if, in times for one pure church renown’d,Born, I had also liv

’

d in heart and soulA faithful member ofth

’unbroken whole.

As I am now, by G od’

s goodwill, to goFrom this disorder’d state of things below;Into his hands, as I am now to fall,W ho is the great Creator ofus all;G od ofall churches, that implore his aid,Lover ofallthe souls that he hath made ;W hose Kingdom, that ofuniversal love,Must have its blest inhabitants above,

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164

So must we men, born here upon this earth,If ever we regain the heav

’nly birth;

Lost by poor Adam, in the fatal hourOf lusting after knowledge without pow

’r ;

W hen, yielding to temptation, tho’ forbid

To eat what was not good for him, he did

The pow’r of life consenting to forego,

For what was told him would be death to know,

He died to his. celestial state, and thenCould but convey an earthly one to men .

From which to rise, and in true life to live,W hat but the W ord, wherein was life, could give ;Ingrafted, as a holy Seedwithin,And born to save the human soul from sin?

The W ord made man by virgin birth, and free

From siu’s dominion,—J ESUS Cnmsr is he ;

W hom, of pure love, the Father sent to save,

And finish man’s redemption from the grave.

This second Adam, Healer of the breach

Made by thefirst, nor sin nor death could reach

He conquer’d both; and, in the glorious strife,

Became the P arent of an endless lifeTo allwho ever did or shall aspireTo life and spirit from this heav’

nly Sire ;And cultivate the seed which he hath sownIn ev

’ry heart, till the newman be grown .

The old, we know, must die away to dust,And a new image rise amongst the just;When, at the end of temporary scene,

Christ shall appear, eternally to reignIn all his glory, human and divine,W hen all the horn of G od in Him shal l shine,Ha ie’d to the life that was at first possess

’

d,And how the knee to J ESUS, and be blest.

Since then the cause of our eternal lifeIs CHRIST IN US, what need of an strifeIn his religion?Of Lo here ! 0 there !”

When to allhearts He is himself so near?

.165

W ith pow’r to save us from the cause of ill,

A worldly, selfish, unbelieving will;To bless whatever tends to make the mindMeek, loving, humble, patient, and resign

’d;

The mind to Christ so far as G od shalldrawBy nature, scripture, reason, learning, law,

Or aught beside— ao far their use is right,

P roclaiming Him, and not themse lves, the Light.From first to last his G ospel is the same ;And of allworship, that deserves a name,The word of life byfaith to apprehend

That was in the beginning— is the end.

MEMORIAL ABSTRACT

‘ OF A

SERMON P REACHED BY THE REV. MR. H

Oa m , xx- 27.

THE human spirit, when it burns and shines,Lamp of J EHOVAH” Solomon defines

Now, as a vessel, to contain the whole,This Lamp denotes the body, Oil the soul ;(As H observes) which, tho

’ itself be dark,Is capable of light

’s enkindling spark

But, as consider’d in it

’s own dark root,

Stil l wants the unction, and the light’s recruit.

Brighter than all, that now is look’d upon,

This lamp of G od, at its creation shone ;

The body, purer than the finest gold,Had no defect in its material moldThe soul

’s enkindled oilwas heav’

nly bright,Til l evil mixture darken’d its good light;And hid the supernatural sup ly,That fed the glorious lamp 0 the MostHigh.

166

I

That fatal poison quench’d, in human frame,

The spirit flowing from the vital flameAdam

’s free will consenting to such food,

Death, as its natural effect, ensu’d :

True life departing - left him naked, blind,And spiritless, in body, soul, and mind ;Dead to his paradisic life, a birthFrom sin began his mortal life on earth.

His faith, his spiritual discernment gone,He fell into a poring, reas

’ning one ;

Into a state of ignorance he fell,W hich brutal instincts very oft excel

W hat his set -seelring wil l would knowwas known,The light 0 this terrestrial orb alone ;Dark, in comparison, when this was done,As moon, or star- light to meridian sun.

W hat help, when lesser light should van ish too,And death discover a still darker view,

Had not the CHRIST of G od, sole help for sin,Raisld up salvation as a Seed within?That sproutin forth b penitence andfaith,Could pierce di ro’ dead, anddissipate its wrath;Til l G od’s true image shouldagain revive,And rise, thro

’ Him, to its first life alive .

This P arent Saviour, G od’s

'

anointed‘

Son,Begets the l ife that Adam should have ddne ;Reforms the lamp; renewsthe holy fire,And sends toHeav’

n its flaming love-desire’Tis He, the life that was the i ht qf men,W ho fits them to be lamps of cd again ;Restores the vessel, oil, and

'

light, and all

The spirit- life that vanish’d at thefall.

Reason has‘

nothing to proceed upon,W ithout an auction from this HolyOne;W ithout a Spirit, to dispel the dampOf nature’s darkness, and light up the lamNothing whatever, but the touch divine,Can make its highest faculties to shine;Alljust as helpless in their selfish use,As lamps their own enkindling to produce.

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168

Would then be true ; and we be forc’d to call

Things good or bad, the P arts ofthe great Alb”

In whatsoever state itselfmay beNature is his, but nature is not He.

Like as the dark, behind the shining glam,

By hind’ring rays that of themselves would pas ,

Alfords that glimpse of objects to the view,

W hich the transparentmirror could not do g,r

80 does the life of nature, in its place,Reflect the glories of the life of grace.

Of ev’ry creature

’s happiness, the growth

Depends upon the union of them both;And all, that G od proceeded to create,

Came forth, at first, in this united state ;

No evil wrath or darkness could beginTo shew itself, but by a creature

’s sin.

Andwere not nature separate, alone,Such a darkwrath, it could not have been shewnIts hidden properties are ground as good

For life’s support, as bones to flesh and bloodThe false, unnatural, ungodlywill,That lays them Open, is sole cause of ill.

W hen it is caus’d, renouncing, to be sure,

Allsuch- like wil ls, contributes to the cure ;

That nature’s wrathfi dforms may not appear,

Nor what is made subservient domineer ;But G od

’s good will all evil ones subdue,

And bless allnature, and allcreature too .

P ART SECOND.

THIS universal blessing to inspireW as G od

’

s eternal purpose or desire ;Desire, which never could be unfulfill’dLove put it forth, andHeav

’n was what itwill’d;

And the desire had in itself the means,From whence the love could raise the heav’

nly scenes.

Hence an eternalnature, to proclaimBy outward, visible, majestic frame,

169

The hidden Deity, the pow’r Divine,

By which th’ innumerable beauties shine ;

That by succession, without end, recalA G oo of Love, a present ALL in ALL.

From Lave, thus manifested'in the birth

Of nature and the pow’re ofHeav’

n and earth,The .various births of creatures, at the voice

Of G od, came forth to see, and to rejoice ;To live within his kingdom, and partake

Of ev’ry bliss, adapted to their make.

For as, before a creature came to see,

No other life but that of G od could beNo other place butHeav

’n , no other state ;

So, when it pleae’d th’ Almighty to create,

From Him must come the creature’s life within }

Its outward state from nature must begin .

Oh what angelic orders!what divine,And heav’

nly creatures answer’d the designOf G od

’s communicative goodness, shewn

By giving rise to ofl'

eprings of his own !W ith godlike spirits howwas nature fill

’d,And beauteous forms, as its G reat Author will

’d!

Thus in its full perfeétion then it stood,’

Seeking, receiving, manifestinggood,By virtue of that union which it had

W ith Him, who made no creature to be bad;But highly blest ; and with a potent willSo to continue, and to know no ill.

Nature’s united properties had none

IVIience then the change that it has undergone,But from the creatures striving to aspireAbove the light, which their own darkdesire

Quench’d in themselves, and rais

’d up all the storms

Of nature’s wrathful, separated form ?

So Lucifer and his proud legions fell,And turu

’d their heav’nry mansion to a bell

To that dark, formless void, wherein the lightEnt

’ring again with nature t o unite,

VOL. II.

170

The newcreation of aworld began,And, G od

’s own image lord of it, a

ORIG IN or EVIL.

EVIL ,if rightlyunderstood,

Is but the skeleton of

Divested of its flesh and blood.

W hile it remains, without divorce,W ithin its hidden, Secret source,It is the '

good's own strength and force.

As hone has the supporting share,In human form divinelyflair,Altho’ an evilwhen laid bare ;

As light and air are fed by fire,A shining good, while allconspire,But (separate) dark, raging ire

As hope and love arise from faith,W hich then admits no ill, nor hath;But, if alone, it would be wrath;

Or any instance thought uponIn which the evil can be none,

Till unity of good is gone ;

So, by abuse of thoughtxaud skill,

The greateu good, towit, five-will,Becomes the origin of ill.

Thus when rebelliousangels fell,The very heav

’n, where good ones dwell,

Became th’ apostate spirits’ hel l.

Seeking, against eternal right,A force W ithout a love and light,

and, and felt its arilmight.

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172

An adoration of the boundless pow’re

Of the ALMIG HTY, when compar’d with ours;

To sink in humble rev’renoe, and profound,

All human thoughts of fixing any bound

To an Unerring W isdom, which extends

Beyond what finite reason comprehends ;Yet. if examin

‘

d by severer test,

It is , at least, incautiously express’d

And leaves the subtlest of the gospel’s foes,

The Deists, this obj ection to prppose,To which they have, andwill have a recourse,And stil l keep urging its unanswer

‘

d force

If there was no necessity,”they say,

For saving men in this mysterious way,W hat proof can the divines pretend to bring,(W hile they confess the nature of the thingDoes not forbid,) that the celestial scenes“7 111 not be open

’d by some other means?

What else but book authority, at best,Asserts this way, exclusive of the rest,Of equal force, ifthe Almighty

’s wil l

Had but appointed them to save from ill?

This way, in which the Son of the Most High.Is, by his Father

’

s pleasure, d'

oom’d to die,

For satisfaction ofpaternal ire;W hich (when they make religion to require)Confounds all sense ofjustice, by a scheme

The most unworthy of the G reat Supreme

As other ways might have obtain’d the end,

Nature, and reason force us to attend

To huge absurdities which follow this,And, since itwas not needful, to dismiss.

This is the B‘

ourdon" ofdeistic song,W hich rising volumes labour to prolo

’

ngTake this awa the rest would all remainAs flat and trihing, as it is piofane ;But this remaining, hither they retreat,And lie secure from any ful l defeat.

Bourdon Burden orBurden in Music is the bass and theplays it. Hience theburden qfa ring is thehem ar c/torus repeatsit

t

inmi

173

Butwhen the need mosta bsolute is shewnO fman

’s redemption, .by the means alone,

The birth and life, anddeath, and re-aseent,Thro

’ which the o ne Theandric Saviour went,To quench the wrathi of nature in the race

Ofmen, (not G od, in whom it has no place,)Then scripture, sense, and

‘

reason coincide,And allconspire to

‘follow the One G uide ;O fpossibilities to wave the talk,In which it is impossible 'to walk; 1

And raise the soul to seek and find the good,By this one method, which no other could.

Then true religion, call it by the name

Christian or natural, is stil l the same ;From CHRIST deriv’d, as Healer of the soul,O r nature, made by his re

- entrance whole ;W ho is, in ev

’ryman , th

’enlight

’ning ray,

The faith and hope of love’s 'redeeming day;The only name or pow

’r that can assure

Nature’s religion, that is, nature

’s cure.

But if salvation might have been bestovv’

dBy other means, than what the sacred code

Declares throughout, the Deists will soon say,The means, that might be possible, still -may

And, led to think that scripture is at odds

W ithl

nature, take some other to be G od’s

Thus may a no necessity, allow’d,Tend to increase the unbe lieving crowd.

As Adam died, and in him all his race,Not to the life of nature, but ofgrace,There could be no new birth of it, or growth,But from a parent union ofthem both;Such as, in ev

’ry possible re ect,

J ESUS incarnate on ly could e ect

From Him alone, who had the life, couldmenHave it restor’d, renew’

d, revie’d again

But— I am trespassing too much, I fear,And preaching, when my province is to hear,

M illions ofwayscouldwe suppose beside,’

This, we are sure, whichsaving love has tried,

174

Must be the belt, must be the straighten lineOfaction,when consider’d as divine;This way alone then must as sure be gone,As that a line, if straight, can be but one.

THE nunsum oN or MANKIND.

MANKIND’s redemption,

”you are pleu

’d tomy,

J8 808 Cumsr, was not the only wayThat could succeed; indefinitelymoreTh’ Almi hty

’s wisdom had within its store ;

By any c osen one ofwhich, no doubt,The same redemption had been brought about.

For who shal l dare, you argue,“in this case,

To limit the Omnipotence ofgrace?

As ifa finite understanding knewWhat the Almighty could, or could not do:Tho’ since He chose this method, We mun own,That our dependence is on this alone.

”

Now, Sir, acknowledging his pow’r

Beyond the reach ofall created sense;Does it not seem to follow, thereupon,That his true way must be directl One?To save the world he gave his on y Sou,Therefore—by Him alone it could be done.

Variety ofways is the efl'

ect

Of finite view, that sees not the direct;But the Almighty, having all in view,Must be suppos

’d to see, and take it too ;To see at once tho

’ we are in the dark,The one straight line to the intendedmark.

Saint P aul's assertion of—no other nameG iven under Heav’n—appears to be the sameW ith this no other name, er pow

’r, couldare

But that of J esus,which J suovstt gavea”

,

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176

Blind ides, false prophets, and a lengthen‘d trail

Of all ard words that chosen texts contain :These are theforms which, when it would objectTo those in use, it pleases to select ;Repeated by its devotees, at once,As l ike to rote as any church response

Nor is a treatment of this eager kind

To this or that societ confin’d,

Sect, or profession o, no matter which,Leaders or led, allfall into the ditchNone but its own severe adepts can claim

Of truth and Spirit-worshippers the name .

In vain it seeks, by any sacred page,To justify this unexampled rage :P rophets of old, who spake against th

‘

abuse

Of outward forms were none of them so looseAs to condemn, abolish, or forbid

The things prescrib’d, but what the people did

W ho minded nothing but the mere outside,Neglecting whol lywhat it signified ;At this neglect the prophets all exclaim

’d;No pious rites has any of them blam

’d;Their true intent was only to reduce

All outward practice to its inward use.

The world’s Redeemer, coming to fulfilAllpast predictions ofprophetic quill,W ho more amidst the J ewish priestly pride,Than be, with allMosaic rites complied?Say that the Christian priests are now as bad

As those blind leaders which the J ews then had,W as Z achariah’s, Simeon

’s, Anna

’s mind,

Any good priest, or man, or woman blind,To offer incense, or to bear a part

In temple service, with an upright heart?

Can then the faults of Clergymen, or Lay,‘

Destroy heart-worship at this present day?

W il l pray’r, in vain by P harisees preferr

’d,Not from repenting P ublicans be heard?

W ill the devout among the christian flock

Not be accepted, tho’the priest shouldmock?

177

Ifthey do right 1n their appointed spheres,His want of truth and spir1t 19 M t theirs.

Our Lord’s apostles, with an inward view

To reconcile the G entile and the J ew,

To faith in Him, made ev’ry outward care

The most subservient to that main affair

The greatest friend to christian freedom, P aul,Intent to save,was cv

’ry thing to all;

To keep, whatever forms should rise or cease,

Union of spirit in the bond of peace ;

Th’effects ofhasty, rash, condemning zeal

He saw, andmourn’d, and labour

’d to repeal .

Succeeding saints, when priest or magistrateBecame tyrannicalin church or state,

Reprov’d their evil practices, but then

Rever’d the odies , tho

’they blam

’d the men.

They gave no i nstance ofuntemper’

d heat,That roots up allbefore it, tares or wheat;As if, by humanly invented care

Of cultivation, wheat itselfwas tare.

’Tis true all sects are grown corrupt enough,But zeal, so indiscriminate ly rough,May wel l give others reason to suspect

Some want ofknowledge in a novel sect,(If such there be) that seems to take a pride

In satanizing all the world beside ;W ithout the least authority, yet known,Or species ofexample, but its own .

One mischief is, that its unguarded terms

Hurt many sober truths which it affirms ;W orship 1n Truth and Spirit suffers too,By being plac

’d 1n such a hostile viewOh!but allse lf-will worshiping 1swrong

True ; but to whom does that defect belong?Is the obedience -to a rule or guide,For order

”s s

’

ake, fair proofof such a pride?If it be none at allfor men to broach

Rude, harsh, and undistingmshing reproach,W ith resolution to repeat it still,P ray by what marks are we to knowselfwill?

178

Thoughts on Imputed Rig/t eatime“,

By reading the Rev. MR . HERVEY’s DIALOG UES, beh est

THERON and ASP ASIO.

A Fragment.

IMP UTED Righteousness .

'— be loved friend,To what advantage can this doctrine tend?

If, at the same time, a believer’s breast

Be not by real righteousness possess’d;

And ifit be,why volumes on it made,W ith such a stress upon imputed laid?

Amongst the disputanmof later days,This, in its turn, became a fav

’rite phrase,

W hen much divided in religious schemes,Contending parties ran into extremes ;And now it claims the attention of the age,In Harvey

’s e legant and lively page;

This his Aspasio labours to impress,W ith ev

’ry turn of language and address ;

W ith all the flow of eloquence, that shinesThro

’allhis (ful l enough) embellish

’d lines.

Tho" now so much exerting to confirmIts vast importance, and revive the term,

He was himself, he lets his Theron know,

Ofdifi ’rent sentiments not long ago ;

And friends of burs, it has been thought, I find,Have brought { spasio to his present mind.

Now having read, but unconvinc’d I own,

W hat various reason for it he has shewn,Or rather rhetoric— if it be true,In any sense that has appear

’d to you,

I rest secure of iving no ofl'

ence,By asking owyouunderstand the sense?

”

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180

W here to be found, in all the scripture thro’

,

This imputation, thus advanc’d anew?

Adam and Eve, by satan’s wiles decoy

’d,

Did what the ki nd commandment said—avo i

To them with justice, therefore, you imputeThe sin of eating the forbidden fro1t

And ev’ry imputation must, in fact,

Ifjust, be built on some preceding act ;

W ithout the previous deed suppos’d

, the wordBecomes unjust, unnatural , absurd.

If, as you seem’d to think the other day,

AllAdam’s race, in some mysterious way,

Sinn’dwhen he siun

’d, consented to his fall ;W ithjustice then impute it to them all

But still it follows, that they allcontract

An imputation founded upon fact;And righteousness of Christ, in christian heirs,Must be as deeply and as truly theirs,A heav

’uly life in order to replace,

As was the sin that made a guilty race

So that imputing either good or 1“Must pre

- suppose a correspondent wil l ;Or else imputers certainly must make,Thro’ ignorance or other cause, mistake.

Old Eli thus, not knowing what to think,Imputed Hannah

'

s silent pray’r to drink;

L ittle supposing that her silent pray’r

W ould a successor unto him prepare.

There may be other meanings ofthe phrase,To be accounted for in human ways ;But G od’s imputing to the future childThe sin, by which his parents were beguil

’d,

Seems to establish an unrighteous blame,That brings no honour to its Maker

’s name.

G od’s honour, glory, majesty, and grace,I grant, is your intention in the case ;

But wish revolv’d in your impartial thought,How far the doctrine tends, when it is taught,To such an honest purpose ; and how farJ ustice and truthmay setmto be atwar,

18 1

IfG od impute to guiltless children crimes,Committed only in their parents

’times.

P io‘ Aspasio, I imagine too,Had G od’s resistless sov

’reign ty in view;

The charge of P uritan, or other name,He scoru

’d aright, and making truth his aim,

Found it, he thought, in eminent divines ;Ofwhose opinion these are the outlinesThey think, at least they seem to represent,That G od, in honour, upon sin

’s event,

Could not forgive the sinners that had stray’d,

W ithout a proper satisfaction madeTo his of

'

ended justice ; and because,Upon their breachof the Almighty

’s laws,

None elsewas adequate to whatwas done,The vengeance fell on his Beloved Son ;W ho gave himself to suffer in our stead,And thus to l ife again restor

’d the dead;Because, consistentlywithjustice, thenG od could bestow his mercy upon men :Man had contracted, in that fatalday,Debt so immense, that man could never pay;He who was G od aswell asMan ,

—he could;And made the satisfaction thro

’

.h

'

m blood;P aid all the just demand— imputed thusOur sin to him, his righteousness to usThis sets the doctrine, if I. take aright

Their words and meaning, in the plainest light.

Now since accounting for the truth amiss

May give distaste in such an age as this,And be a stumbling-block to them who mightReceive an 'explanation thatwas right;Not as a captions foe, but hearty friend,May one intreat such teachers to attend,And reconcile their system,

if they can,

To G od’s proceeding with his creature man ;

To that paternal, tender love and grace,W hich at man’

s fall immediate ly tookplace;That inward, holy thin imbreathed then,W hichwould rekindle eav

’n in thimagain

Does wrath, orwag-n ee, or a c ent appearOf satisfaction , or ofpayment here,In man

’s Creator? For mankind hadHe

A purchas’d grace, which coatn dicts afin ?

Is it not plain, that an “ M d lone

Sent help to poor fall’n creatures frcm above,

Unbargain’d, unsolicited, unmov

’d,But by itself, as its exertion prov

’d;

No foreign promise ; no imputed ease ;

But t emed as realas disease ;That woul according to true nature

’s ground,

Bring on the cure, andmake the patient sound.That Christ, that G od

’s becoming m wu it,

Your friends with highest gratitude admit;W hose utmost talents are employ

‘d to sh i t

The obligations that to him we owe ;To press the object of our faith i nd trad ,

Cnmsr, ALL in ALL, the righteous thi“.ju t;

The true, redeemi life—sa ndal

To ev’ry ch iuian

n

gho aspires to blim ;W hy not subjoin—I cite the hero P aul,And make appealto christians—ia you all?Form’d in you, dwelling in you, andwithin,Regenerating life, dethroning em ; 0

W ork'

in more and more resignedwills,The r us ] conquest of allselfish ills ;Till e true chr1etien to true life revive,Dead to the world, to G od, thro

’ him, alive.

What num’rous texts from P aul, from ev

’ry

Might furnish out citations, didwe want;And could not see, that righteownesa, or sin.Arise not fromwithout.but fromwithin?That imputation, where they are not found.Can reach no farther than an empty soundsNo farther than imputed health can reachThe cure of sickness, the

’aman should preach

W ith all the eloquence ofreal. and tellHow health imputed nukes afelt an wellIndeed, if sickness be imputed too.Imputed remedy, no doubt. may do;W ordsmay pop?forth their Omrm m e.ButM gs are just, as things were just before.

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And probably Aspasio less inclin’d

To run directly into Calvin’s mind,

W ould give imputing a more mod’rate sense,

That no damnation might arise from thence ;But howwill mo llifying terms confuteThe fam

’d reformer’s notion of impute?

Ifit confer sucharbitrarygood,The dire reverse is quickly understoodSo understood, that Open eyes may see’Tis Calvin

’s fiction, and not G od

’s decree

Not His, whose forming love, and ruling aid,Ceaseless extend to allthat Hehath made ;W ho gave the gift which He was pleae

’d to give,That none might perish, but that allmight live,His only Son , in whom the light, that guidesThe born into the world to life, resides ;A real life, that by a real birthRaises a life beyond the life ofearth,In allhis children—but, no more to you,Better than me, who know it to be true ;And ifAspasio

’s really humbled soul

Be by a touch ofgarment-hem made whole,

He might, as I should apprehend, be sure

That imputation could not cause the cure.

W hen the poor woman, in the gospel, foundTouch of the Saviour’s cloaths to make her sound,W e know the virtue did from Him proceed,That, mix

’dwith faith, restor

’d her, as we read

G one out ofHim obliges to infer,That ’

twas by faith attracted into her.

ON THE

Nature of Free G race,AND THE

CLAIM TO MERIT FOR THE P ERFORMANCE OFG OOD WORKS.

G RACE, to be sure, is, in the last degree,The gift ofG od, divinely pure andfree ;

185

Not bought or paid for, merited or claim’d,By anyworks of ours that can be nam

’

d.

W hat claim, or merit, or withal to pay,Could creatures have before creating day?

G ift of existence is the gracious one,W hich all the test must needs depend upon.

Allboasting then ofmerit, allpretence

Of claim from G od, in a deserving sense,Is, in one word, excludedby St. P aulW hate’er thou hast, thou hast receiv

’d it all.

But sure the use ofany gracious pow’re,

Freely bestow’d, may properly be ours

Right application being ours to choose,Or, ifwe willbe so absurd, refuse.

In this respect what need to controvertThe sober sense ofmerit or desert?

W orks, it is said,will have and is it hardTo say deserve or merit? their reward.

G race is the real saving gift ; but, then,G ood works are profitable unto men ;G od wants them not; but, if our neighbours do,Flowing from grace, they prove it to be true.

W hen human words ascribe to human spiritW orthy, unworthy, merit or demerit,W hy should disputes forbid the terms a place,W hich are not meant to derogate from grace?

All comes from G od, who gave us first to live,And all succeeding grace ;

’tis ours to give

To G od alone the glory ; and to man ,

Impow’r’d by Him, to dowhat good we cm .

A SOLILOQUY,

On reading A DISP UTE about FAITH and WORKS.

W’

HAT an excessive fondness for debate

Does this dividing faith fromworks create!von. 11. O

186

Some say Salvation is by faith alone

Or else the gospel wil l be overthrownOthers, for that same reason, place the wholeIn works which bring salvation to the soul.

G ospel of Christ, consistently appliedUnites together what they both divideIt is itself, indeed, the very faithThat works by love and saves a soul fromwrathA new dispute should some third party pave,Nor faith, nor works, but love alone would save.

The Solifidian takes a text from P aul,And works are good for nothing, faith is all;Doctrine,which his antagonist disclaims,And shews howworks must justify, from J ames ;A third, in either, soon might find a place,W here love is plainly the exaltedgrace.

There is no end ofjarring system found,In thus conmnding not for sense, but sound;For sound, by which th

’ inseparable three

Are so distinguish’d, as to disagree ;

Altho’ salvation, in its real spring,Faith, work, or love, be one and the same

One pow'

r of G od, or life ofChrist within,Or Holy Spirit washing away sin ;Not by repentance only ; or beliefOnly, that slights a penitential griefAnd its meet fruits, and justifies aloneA full conceiv’d assurance of its own;

Nor b

yworks only, nor, tho

’

Both fait and works have lifted it, can loveHave, or desire to have, the exclusive claim,

In men’s salvation, to this only fame ;

B all together souls are sav’d from ill,

hene’er they yield an unresisting will.

G od has a never- ceasing will to save,

Andmen, by grace, may savingly behaveThis would produce less fondness for a met,And.more concern about the main cfi

'

ect ;

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188

But only some? “The rest,”this man maintain’d,

W ere to decreed damnation pre- ordain

’dz”

No, Sir; not allyour metaphysic skil lCan prove the doctrine, twrat it as youwill .

I cite the man for doctrine so accurst,

In book the third, and chapter twenty-first,Section thefifth—a horrid, impious lore,That one would hopewas never taught before ;How it came after to prevail away,Let them, who mince the damning matter, say ;And others judge, ifany Christian fruitBe like to spring from such a P agan root.

P agan said I? I must retract the word,For the poor P agans were not so absurd;Their J upiter, ofgods andmen the king,

”

W henever he ordain’d a hurtful thing,

Did it, because he was oblig’d to look

And act, asfate had-bid him, in a book

For gods and goddesses were subject, then,To dire necessity, as well as men ;Compell

’d to crush a hero or a town,

As destiny had set the matter down.

But, in your scheme,’tis G od that orders ill,

W ith sov’reign pow

’r, andwith resistlemwill;

He, in whose b lessed Name is understood:The one eternal will to ev

’ry good,

Is represented, tho’untied byfate,

W ith a decree ofdamning to create

Such as you term“ the vessels ofhiswrath,

To shewhis pow’r, according to your faith

J ust as if G od, like some tyrannic man,W ouldplague the world, to shew them that he can.

W hile others (they, for instance, ofyour sect,)Are mercy

’s vessels, precious and

‘

elect ;W ho think, -G od' help them — to secure their blissBy such a partial, fond conceit as this.

Talk not to me of P opery and Rome,Nor yet foretel its Babylonish doom;Nor canonize r

?brming saints of old,

Because they be d the doctrine that youhold;

189

For if they dimpaltho’of saint- like stem,

In this plain pointwe must reform from them

W hile freed from Rome, we are not tied, I hope,To what is wrong in a G eneva P ope ;Nor what is right should sirname supersede

OfLuther, Calvin, Bellarmine, or Bede .

Rome has been guilty of excess,’tis true,

And so have some of the rdormers too ;If in their zeal against the Roman seat,

P lucking up tares, they pluck’d up also wheat,

Must we to children, for what they have said,G ive thispredestination

- ston e for bread?

Sir, it is worse, is your predestination,Ten thousand times than transubstantiation

Hard is the point, that P apists have compil’d,

W ith sense and reason to be reconcil’d

But yet it leaves to our conception stillG oodness in G od, and holiness ofwill;A just, impartial government ofallA saving love ; a correspondentc all

To ev’ry man, and, in the fittest hour

For him to hear, all ofl'

er’d grace and pow

’r ,

W hich he may want and have, if he wil l craveFrom Him who wil leth nothing but to save.

W hereas,"

this reprobation doctrine here,'

Not only sense and reason would cashier,But take, by its pretext of sov

’reign sway,

Allgoodness from the Deity away ;’

Both heav’n and hell confounding with its cant,

V irtue and vice, the sinner and the saint ;Leaving (by irresistible decree,And purpose absolute, what man shal l be,)Nothing, in sinners, to detest so much

As G od’s contrivance how to make them such.

That ever Christians, blestwith revelation,.Should think ofHis decreeing men

’s damnation!

The G on of novn ' the FOUNTAIN of ALL 6 000 !

W ho made,”

says P aul, all nations ofone bloodTo dwell on earth; appointing time and place

”

And for what end this pre- orda in ing grace?

That they might seek, and feel gas-QMfind

The life in G od, which G od for man design’d.

W e are his offspring—for, in that decree,

The P agan poet and St. P aul agreeWe are his ofsprin —Now, sir, put the

Of some great man an his descending race ;

Conceive this common parent of them all,As will ing some to stand, and some tofallMaster, suppose, ofall their future lot,Decreeing some to happiness, some not ;

In some to bring his kindness into view;To shew in others what his wrath can do ;To lead the chosen children b the hand,And leave the rest to fal l—who cannot stand.

Imight proceed, but that the smal lest sketchShews an absurd and arbitrary wretch,Treating his offspring so, as to forbid

To think that ever G od Almighty did ;To think that creatures, who are said to he

His 0 spring, should be hurt by his decree ;W hic had they always minded, good aloneAnd not a spark of evil had been known .

For his decree, appointment, order, will,P redestinating goodness, pow

’r, and skill,

Is, of itself, the unbeginmng good,The pouring .forth of an une nding flood

Of ever-dowing bliss, which only rollsTo fillhis vessels, his created souls.

HappyHimself, the true divine desire,The love that flames thro’ that eternal fire,W hich generates in Him th

’eternal light,

Source of allblessing to created sight,Longs with a holy earnestness to spreadThe boundless glories of its fountain head;To raise the possibilities of life,W hich rest in Him, into a jo ful strife ;Into a feeling some ofHim, fi'omwhomThe various gifts of various blessings come.

To bless is his immutable decree,Such as could never have begun to be

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192

5

Boast ofhis father Abraham, and vent

The carnal claims of family descentBut the whole family of heav

’n and earth,

P aul knew, ifblest, must have another birth;That J ew and G entile was, in ev

’ry place,

Alike the object ofa saving grace

P aul never tied salvation to a sect ;

Allwho love G od, with him, are G od’s elect.

This plain, goodmaxim he himself premis’d

To those fam’d chapters, whichwere so disguis

’d

By studied comments of a later day ;W hen words were press

’d to serve a partial fray;And scripture turn

’d into a magazine

Of arms, for sober or for frantic spleen.

Allwho love G od”— how certain is the key!

W hate’er disputed passages convey;

In P aul’s epistles if some things are read,Hard to be understood,

”as P eter said,

Must this be urg’d to prove in men

’s condition

Their pre-election , and their pre terition

Or predamnation? For, that monstrous word,Ofall absurd decree the most absurd,Is into formal definition wroughtBy your divines

— unstartled at the thoughtOfSov

’reign P ow

’r decreeing to become

The Author ofsalvati on but to some;To some, resembling others, they admit,W ho are rejected W hy? He so thoughtfitHath not the potterpom

’r to make his clay

J us t what he pleases? —W ell, and tell me, pray,W hat kind of potter mustwe think a man,W ho does not make the best of it he can?

W ho, making some fine vessels of his clay,To shew his pow

’r, throws allthe rest away,

W hich, in itself, was equally as fine?W hat an idea this ofpow

’r divine !

Happy for us, ifunder G od’s commands

W e were as clay is in the potter’s hands ;

P liant, and yielding readily to takeThe proper form, whichHe is pleas

’

d to make

1 93

Happy for us that he has P ow’r .

’ Because

An equal G oodness executes its laws ;Rejecting none but such as will behaveSo as that no Omnipotence can save.

W ho can conceive The Infinitely G ood

To shew less kindness than he really could?To pre- concert damnation, and confine

,

Himself, his own Beneficence D ivine?

An impotency this, in evil hour,Ascrib

’d to G od’s beatifying pow

’r,

By bitter log1c and the sour mistake

W hich overvvosu1ng zeal IS apt to make ;Describing sov reignty as incomplete,That does not shew itself less good than great.Tho true in earthly monarchs it may be,ThatMaj esty and Love can scarce agree,In His Alm1ghty W ill , who rules above,The pow

’r is grace, the majesty is love.

W hat best describes the G 1ver of all bliss,G lorious in allhis attributes, is this,The sov

’reign Lord all creatures bow before,

But they who love Him most, the most adore.

From this one worship if a creature’s heart,

l’d on aught else, determines to depart,

There needs no pre- determin ing the case ;

Idolatry ensues, and fall from grace ;Without and contrary to G od

’s intent,

Its own selfruin is the sure event

The love forsaken which alone could bless,It needs must feel wrath, anger, and distress ;The sensibilities that must arise,

If nature wants what sacred love supplies.

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THE P OTTER AND HIS CLAY .

A HYMN ASCRIBED TO DR. WATTS.

BEHOLD the P otter and the clayHe forms his vessels as be please ;

Such is our G od, and such are we,The subjects of his high decrees.

Does not the workman’s pow

'

r extend

O’er all the mass—which part to choose

And mould it for a nobler end,Andwhich to leave for viler use

May not the Sov’reign Lord on high

Dispense his favours as He will ;Choose some to life, while others die,And yet be just and gracious stil l?

W hat if, to make his terror known,He lets his patience long endure,

Suff’ring vile rebels to go on,

And seal their own destruction sure

W hat if He means to shew his grace,And his electing love employs,

To mark out some of mortal race,And form them fit for heav’

nly joys,

Shall man reply against the Lord?And cal l his Maker

’s ways unjust,

The thunder of whose dreadful wordCan crush a thousandworlds to dust?

But, O my soul l— if truth so brightShould dazzle and confound thy sight,Yet still his written will obey,And wait the great decisive day.

Then shall He make hisjustice known ;And the whole world before his throne,W ithjoy or terror, shall confessThe glory of his righteousness.

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196

An Argument,

DAVID ’S BELIEF OF A FUTURE STATE,

mrnnnnn m om

Bathsheba’s lastWords to him,upon his Death-bed.

IF Davidknew not of a future life,How understood he Bathsheba, his wife?W ho, when he lay upon his death-bed, came

To plead for Solomon‘

s succeeding claim ;And, having prosper

’d in her own endeavour,Said— Let my Lord, K ing David, Livefor ever!

W hat real wish was Bathsheba’s intent,

If life hereafter was not what she meant?Say that

—for ever—to a king in health,Meant “a long life, prospen ty, and wealthTo one that lay a dying, you must own,’Twould be a mere burlesque upon his throne.

If she had pray’d for David

'

s mild release,Or Let my Lord, the King, depart in peace!

(Tho’

, even then,’twere difficult to stint

Her utmost thought to so minute a hint,)The short- liv

’d comment might have some pretence,

But— Livefor ever —has no sort of sense ,

Un less we grant her meaning to extend

TOfuture life that never'has an end

P iety will . and reason must, confess,That her intention could be nothing lessK ing, livefor everl— and—G od save theK ing!Old or new phrase, salvation is the thing.

NO poor salvation to ~be quickly past,And with a deadly ex it at the last;TO which, when Davidwas so near, what shareC ould he enjoy Of Livefor ever

’s pray

’r,

Had he not known what Bathsheba design’d,

A life to come, of everlasting kind?

197

Tho’num

’rous proofs might, readily, be brought

That this was always holy David’s thought ;

Yet since by learned and long-winded ways,

Men seek to break the force of ancient phrase,1 single out this plain, familiar one

Now give as plain an answer thereupon.

THE FALL OF MAN

occasronsn or

The following Represen tation of that Event

m k outward acttomfl n thelr m

P en n- ive Cmfiom tty,(P ast 280

OF man’s Obedience, while in Eden blest,

W hat amere trifle is here made the test !An outward action, in itself, defin

’d

TO be Of perfectly indifl

"rent kind;

W hich, but or G od’s forbidding threat severe,

It had been superstition to forbear.

A strange account ; that neither does, nor can,Make anypart Of true religion

’s plan ;

But must expose it to the ridiculeOf scofl

'

ers, judging by this crooked ruleIts friends, defending truth, as they suppose,Lay themselves open to acuter foes.

To say that action , neither good nor bad,From which no harm in nature could be had,Was chang

’d, (by positive, commanding will,

Or threatforbidd ing ) to a deadly ill,Charges, by consequence the most direct,On G od himself that ill and its effect.

Language had surel come to a poor pass,Before an author, Of inguish

’d class

198

For shining talents, could endure to make,In such a matter, such a

-

gross mistake ;Could thus derive death’s origin and root,

From Adam’s eating of a harmlessfrui t.

From Adam’s eatingW—Did not G odforbid

The taste of it to Adam —sYes He didAnd was it harmless, must.we understand,To disobey G od

’s positive command3’

No, by no means; but then the harm, we see,

Came not from G od’s command, but from the tree.

If He command, the action must be good;If He forbid, some ill is understood

The tree, the fruit, had dreadful ills conceal’d,Not made by his forbidding, but reveal

’d ;

That our first parents, by a true belief,Might know enough to shun the fatalgrief.

The dire experience of aworld of woe,Forbidding Mercy will

’d them not to know;Told them what illwas in thefalse desire,W hich their free willswere tempted to admire ;That, of such fruit, the eating was—To dieIts harmless nature was the tw pter

‘

s lie.

To urge it now, and to impute the harmOf death, and evil, to the kind alarmOf G od’s command, so justly understood

To wil l his creatures nothing else but good,Is, for a Babelfiction, to resignRios '

r REASON, scarrronn, and the nova nrvnm.

A

LETTER TO A FRIEND ,

owTHE

MeaningofSt. P aul'sExpression ofspeakingwithTongues.

(I CORINTHIANQ Mt)

IF you remember, rev’rend sir, the talk

That pass’d betwixt us in the garden walk,

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200

Authority, with reason mix’d, employs,

Not to repress, but regulate their joys.The benefit of hymns he understood ;But, most intent upon the church

’s good,

The gift prOphetic more expedient found,

(That is, to preach the gospel or expound,)Than to sing hymns Theprophet speaks . says P aul,To men ; instructs exhorts, and comforts all.

Speaking in tongues,—or hymning, to proceed

singer’s self indeed ;

But prophecy, the church; a private soulShould always yield the pref

’rence to the who le

Consistent all, if hymning he explains ;If languages unknown, what sense remains?

W ould P aul affirm, that speaking might do good,In foreign languages, not understood,To a man

’s self? W ould he so gently treat

Such a suppos’d enormous self- conceit?

W ould he vouchsafe to pay, the chapter thro’

,

Respect to tongues, if taken in this view?W ould he al low, nay choose it?— For that next

Is said of tongues in the succeeding text.

I willyou all to speakwith tongues to sing”

Makes this a plain, intel ligible thing ;The other meaning, which they spread about,No commentators have, of can make out.

That he should wil l them all to sing was just,And properly to use the gift or trust;For his intention was not to reduceSinging itself, but its improper useIt was the good apostle

’s great concern,

To preach the gospel so that most might learnThis was the gift, in wh1ch he ratherwill

’d

Such as had been converted to be skill’d.

Speaking in tongue was good; but this, he knew,

W as the more useful talent of the twoG reater its owner, butwith an eacept,That shews thejustice for a hymner kept;The matter sung, who, if he could eXpress,To edify the hearers, was not less ;

901

late retation render’d them alike ;

But oes not this absurd supposal strike,That in plain speaking, on some christian bead,One should interpret what himself had said;First use a language to the church unknown,Then, in another, for his fault atone?W hat reason possible can be assign

’d,

W hy the known tongue should be at first declin’d?

This difficulty, and so all the rest,

The nature of a hymn explains the best.

Nowshould I come among you, says the saint,Speaking with ton - should only come to chant

What shall it protit you, except I preachSome revelation, knowledge, doctrine teach?And here the vulgar meaning of the word,For apostolic use, is too absurd;He scarce would if the speaking in a tongue,Unknown to christians, whom he came among;Nor would a question find with him a place,About their profit in

'

se gross a case.

He plainly hints a coming, not design’d

To please their ear, but to instruct theirmind;The real profit which he pointed at ;And hymns themselves were use less without that.

That such a speaking as is mention’d here,W as musical, is evidently clearFrom the al lusion which he then propounds,To pipe, and harp, and instrumental sounds ;W hich none can urge, with reason, to belongSo properly to language as to song ;Tho’ it may serve for both, in some respect,Yet here one sees to which it must direct ;If pipe or harp be indistinctly heard,No tune ormeaning can be thence inferr

’d

If an uncertain sound the trumpet'

eld,How shall a man make readyfor t field?

Thus of dead instruments ; of them that live,So ye, th

’apostle adds, except ye give

Words, by the tongue, that man can apprehend,Ye

‘

speak, but, as to haven ,to no end;

vet. n. P

And (whatwith hymning posture besm'

e to squaré )Willbe like men who speak into the air.

So yet, to chew howtongue and song agree,

Except ye utterwith the tongue, says he,Words that are easy to be understood,

(W hich in a foreign tongue they never could,}be known to any one

That ye have spoken (that is, sung) upon?And, what with hymning osture seems to

He adds, for ye shallsp into the air.

Except ye utter with the tongue unknown“;Translators here thought fit to let alone ;Unknown, and easy.

too to understand

That could not be—unknown they must disband.It was enough to shew them their mistnke,To see what incoherence it wouldmake ;Yet they not minding, just as they think fit

"

,

Sometimes insert it and sometimes omit.

But if the epithet, at first, be right,W hy is it kept so often out of sight?

Do not omissions carry, allalong,Tacit confession of its being wrongTacit confession, which is open.proofHow little can be said in its behoof.

who shdll eak in ton MUnit?the mean ing

‘

r

pof the voice

gub

c

e clear;(The sense not beingwithinmdldal rehéhg

be, says P aul, Barbarians'

odeh hi(

and ,

Or foreigher‘

s - an'

d, therefor'

e, is his drift”’ith all speaking gifi,

Have the in him ;

Let him, who speaks in tdngue, interpré'

t ‘tdd.

Can such confession, such allowance mide,Suit with that insupportable parade,And show of gift, which commentatorsG iving a meaning that could scarce he meant!W hile zeal for hymns, a natural effectIn novices, tho

" wanting to be check’d,

Accounts for checking, for allowingphrasc,For ev’rymotive that St. P aul di ayl ;His placid reas

’ning, and his mild rebuke;

Forwhich no insolence of gift could look:

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204

Had you not ask’d, a subject of this sort

Might, of itself, a few remarks extort,To shewhowmuch a very learned man

Has been mistaken in his preaching plan.

P reaching (a talent of the gospel kind,By—preaching peace through JE808 Can

Should, one would think, in order to increaseThe gospel good, confine itself to peace ;Exert its milder influence, and drawThe list’ning crowds to love’s uniting law.

For should the greatest orator extendThe pow

’re of sound to any other end;

Regard to healing sentiments postpone,And battle all that differ from his own;Tho’ he could boast of conquest, yet how farFrom peace through J esus, through himself is war.

Howwidely wanders, from the true designOf preaching Christ, the bellicose divine!

If amongst them who allprofess beliefIn the same gospel, such awarlike chief

Should, in the pulpit, labour to erect

His glaring trophies, over ev’ry sect

That does not just fall in with his conceit,And raise new flourish upon each defeat ;As if, by dint of his haranguing strain,8 0 many foes hadhappily been slain ;Tho

’ itwere sure that what he saidwas right,Is he more likely, think you, to invite,To win th

’erroneous over to his mind,

By eloquence of such a hostile kind,Or to disgrace, by arts so strongly weak,The very truths that he may chance to speak?

Like thoughts to thesewould naturally rise

Out of your own occasional surprise,W hen, purchasing the book, you dipp

’d into’t,And saw the preacher

’s manner of dispute ;

Howman by man, and sect by sect display’

d,He pass

’d along from preaching to parade ;

Confuting all that came within his waTho’ too far of to hear what he shoulany

205

Reason, methinks, why candourwould not choose,W here no defence could follow, to accuse ;

W here gen’rous triumph no attacks can yield

To the unquestion’d master of the field

W here names, tho’ injur

’d, without reason wAbsent or present, can make no replyTo the most false or disingenuous hint,Till time, perchance, produces it in printW hen, we may take for granted, it is cladIn its best fashion, tho

’ it be but bad.

This one discourse is printed, we are told,The main of several sermons to unfold.

For one grand subject all of them were meantThe Holy Sp irit, whom the Father sent ;Th’ indwel l ing Comforter, th

’ Instructing G uide;W ho was,

” Christ said, for ever to abide

M M, and in his disciples here below,

And teach them all that they should want ‘to know.

”

A glorious theme ! A comfortable one!

For preachers to exert themselves upon ;First taught themselves, and fitted to impartG od’s truth and comfort to an honest heart.

Some such, at least, imagine to have been

Amongst the flock that came to Lincoln'

s Ina “

;

W ith a sincere desire to hearand learnThatwhich became a christian

’s chief concern ;

P leas’

d wi th the preacher’s text, with hopes thathe

M ight prove an instrument, in some degree,O f their perception of a holy aid,Fruit of that promise which the Saviour made ;M ight help them, more and more, to understand

Howgnear true help and comfort is at hand;How soon the Spirit moves upon the mind,W hen it is rightly humb led and res ign

’d ;W ith what a love to ev

’

ry fe llow- soulO ne member of the church regards the whole;L ooks upon allmankind as friends, or shares

To 'heartiest enemies his heartier pray’r

'

s.

I might go on ; but you, I know, will grant,Such is the temper thatwe really want

P 2

3 06

And such, ifpreachers ever preach indeed,Ifpastors ofa flock W i l l really feed,They will endeavour solely to exciteAndmove divided christians to unite

If not in outward forms, that but supplyA loftier Babel without inward tie,Yet in a common friendhness of will,That wisheswel l to ev

’ry creature still;

That makes the centre of religion’s plan

A god- like love embracing ev

’ryman.

LETTER II.

NO office seemsmore sacred and august,Than that of preachers who fidfil their trustW orking with G od, and helping men to findThe P rince of life, the Saviour of mankind:

W ho came himself a preacher, from on high,Of peace to all, the distant and the nigh.

So said the saint whose preaching was the same,To J ew, to G reek—S alvation thro

’ His nameW ho taught, thro

’ Him, to preach immortallife,Avoiding questions that engender strife ;P atient, and meek, and gentle unto all,Instructing ev

’n opposers wi thoutgall;

If peradventure G od might give them grace

The truth, when kindly ofl'

er’d, to embrace

If these conditions preaching may demand,W hat must we think of the discourse in band;W hich, when we read, is apter to suggestA difl

’rent temper in the preacher

’s breast;

A text perverted from its native scope ;A disappointment of allhearing hopeHere is a long dispute, in his first head,About whatDoctorMiddleton had said;That when the gift of tongues was first bestow

’d,

’Twas but an instantaneous sign, that shew

’dThe gospel

’s chosen minister ; and then,

That purpose signified, it ceas’d again :

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208

But’tis the fate of great and eagerwits,

To trust theirmemory too muchby fits.

To prove that Middleto’i dispute was wrongTakes up the pages, for a sermon, longSoon after this you

’llsee another start,To fill his first division’

s second part :

For having touch’d upon the names of all

The gifts enumerated by saint P aul,Then , in what sense the scripture was inspir

’é,

Higher or lower, comes to be enquir’d

The high he cal ls organical; the lowP artial and true ; as he proceeds to shew.

This is the summary of what is said,Touching the Holy G host, in his first headAs G uide to truth, and aiding to excite,

To clear, to give the understanding light.W hat makes it Sermon is the Text prefix

’d,Tho’

scarce aword of it is intermix’d5

Consistently enough, for it has none

W hich suit the topics that he dwells uponTopics, without a dignity to graceText, ofiice, audience, person, time, or place.

But were this all, and did not what he spakeLead by degrees to serious mistake,Taking a ten , for form

’

s sake, to prepareThe church to hear some shop

- renova’d afi

'

air,(Too oft the turn of the pol i te divine)W ould hardly merit your regard, or mine;But, sir, it is not only ni isapplied

This glorious text—but in effect denied

Or misconceiv’d; and therefore cutting short.

At present, errors of less fatal sort,Let us pursue this subject, in the text,And from the Sermon vindicate the Tart.

LETTER III.

YOU wonder’d much, why any man of partsW ould use; in preaching, low, invective arts ;

209

Bywhich the vain disputings that infestThe christian world, have seldom been suppress

’d;

But often heighten’d, am!that use destroy

’d

For which fine Talents ought to be employ’d.

If one can judge from reading this divine,W hose parts, and talents, would be really fine,If juster notions of the heav

’nly grace

Taught but the earthly not to quit their place,If one can judge, I say, from stated laws,In his discourses, what should be the cause

Of such perversion of a live ly wit,In erudite possessors, this is it :

They think that nowreligion’s sole defence

Is learning, History, and critic sense ;That with apostles, as a needful G uide,The Holy Spirit did indeed abide ;But, having dictated to them a ruleOf faith, and manners, for the Chri stian school,Immediate revelation ceas

’d, and men

Must now be taught by apostolic penCanon of scripture is complete ; and theyMay read, and know what doctrine to obeyTo look for inspiration is absurd;The Spirit

’s aid is in the written word ;

Theywho pretend to His immediate call,From P ope to Quaker, arefanatics all.

Thus, having prov’d, at large, to christians met,

W hat no one christian ever doubted yet,That the NewTestament was really writBy inspiration, which they alladmit,He then subjoms that this inspir

’d recordFulfill

’d the promise of our bless

’dLord;

(Fulfill’d it eminently, is the phrase)

For tho’the faithful, in succeeding days,

Occasionally find, in every place,The Spirit

’s ordinary help and grace,

His light supreme, his constant, fix’d abode,

Is in the scriptures of this sacred code.

”

This was the sense, not easy to explore,W hen, reck

’ning up the Spirit

’s fruits before,

Scripture, said he (which this account explain!Does not record them only, but contains ;CONTAINS,

” in capitals—as ifhe took

The scripture to be somethingmore than bookSomething alive, wherein the Spirit dwelt,That did not only tellHis fruits, butfelt.The sure deposit ofthe Spirit

‘

s fruits

In holy scripture,”(he elsewhere computes)

Fulfill’

d the Saviour’s promise, in a sense

Very sublime”—ao it should seem, fromhence,

That em inently, and sublimely, thusThe Holy Spirit should abide withus.

If I mistake him, ormisrepresent,You

’ll shewme where, for’tis without intent

I want, ifpossible, to understandA sentence coming from so fam’d ahand.

Tho’

plain thewords,’tis difficult to solve

What christian sense he meant them to involve ;In ev

’ry way thatwords and senseagree,

’Tis perfectbibliolatry to meNo imageworship can be more absurd,Than idolizing thus the written word;W hich theywhowrote, intended to exciteAttention to our Lord

’s predictedLight ;

To that same Spirit, leading human thought,Bywhich themselves and all the goodwere taught;P reaching that word,which a diviner art,W hichG od himselfhadwritten on the heart.

Howcan the best of books (for lab confess’

dThat, ofallbooks, the bible is the best)Do any more than give us an account

Ofwhatwas said, for instance, on the mount?Ofwhatwas done, for instance, on the cross,In order to retrieve the human loss?W hat more than tel l us of theSpirit

’s aid,

Far as his fruits by words can be display’

d?Butwords are only the recording part,The things contain

’dmust needs be in theSpirit ofG od no more in books demands

To dwell, Himself, than templesmadewith hands.

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212

Then seek to findhowscripture coincides

W ith each decision oftheir knowing guides.

W ithout some suchpreparatives as these,How could the forc’d i nterpretation please,Thatmakes a sacred promise,

—to bestowP erpetual aid, - exhausted long ago?In one shortagefl—For G od

’s abiding G uide

W ithdrew, it seems, when the apostlesdied;And left poor millions ever since to seek

Howdissonant divines had constru’d G reek.

In graverwriters one has often readW hat in excuse ofbookworship is said;It is not inkand letter that we ownTo be divine, but scripture sense alone ;W e have the rulewhich the apostles made,And no occasion for immediate aid.

”

Suppose for once the gross delusion trueW hat must aplain and honest christian do?

The Spirit’s aid howfar must he extend,

To bring his Saviour’s promise to an end?

This he perceives discourse to dwell upon ;Andyet

—for ever to abide—hasnone.

He, for the sake ofsafety, would be gladTo have that Spirit which th

’apostles had

Not one of them has writ, but says hemay;That ’

tis the blissfor which he ought to prayThat G od willgrant it him, his Saviour said,Sooner than parents give their children bread .

Ifreading scripture can improve a soul,This is the sum and substance of the whole,And gives it value of such high degree :For tho’

as sacred as a book can be,’Tis only so because it best revivesThought of that G oodwhich animated lives ;Because its authors were inspir

’d to write,

And saw the truth in its own heav’

nly light ;Because it sends us to that promis

’d source

Of light and truth, whichgovern’d their discourse,

The HolySpirit’s ever resent aid,

Withus and in M O e Saviourpray’

d

213

Thatwhen he left the world, theHoly G hostMight dwel l with christians, as an inward hostThat teaching, truth, and comfort in the breast,M ight be secur

’d by this abiding G uest.

Yes,withapostles” —sunk, by such a thought,

Th’ inestimable ~ treasure down to nought!

A history of sunshine may as soon

Make a blind man to see the shining noon,

As writings only, without inward light,Can bring theworld

’s redemption into sight.

J esus— the Christ— the very book has shewn,W ithout the Holy Spirit none can own ;In words they may, but,

—what is plainly meant,They cannot give a real heart consent.W hat friend to scripture, then, sir, can displace

This inwardW itness of redeeming grace ;And rest the gospelon such outward view,As any Turkmay rest his Koran too?

Nay, he can own a written word orworkThat Christians do, andyet continue Turk.

W hy do the christian disputants so fill

The worldwith books of apolemic skil l,W hen ’

tis the sacred and acknowledg’d one

That all their jarrin systems build upon,But that the Spirit oes not rule their wit,By which at first the sacred one was writ?Ofwhose support great scholars stand in need,As muchas they who never learnt to read:

Unhappy they!but for that living guide,W hom G od himselfhas promis

’d to provide

A -G uide, —to quote the blessed text again,For ever toabidewith christian men.

Fond of its books, poor learning is afraid;And higher guidance labours to evadeBookshave the Spirit in supreme display!

Men, but in lower, ordinaryway!This strange account ofmen and books is true,It seems, according to thepromise too!

Suchwild conceits allmen havetoo muchwit,Or learned or unlearned, to admit;

!14

Butwhen some interest or custom rules,And chains obsequious wills to difi

’rent schools,

Thewisest, then, sir, wil l relinquish thought;And speak, like P arrots, j ust as they are taught.W hat this shouldbe, what spends in vain the fireOfbrisker tempers

—let us next enquire.

LETTER V.

WHEN christians first receiv’d the joyful news

Messiah come—unmix’d with worldl views ;

W hen the whole church with heaven y grace was blesl’d,

And, from the Spirit Comforter, possess’d

One heart, one mind, one view to common goodThenwas the real gospel understood.

Thenwas the time—to cite what youwillfindThe preacher noting when the world combin‘

dIts pow

’re against it, but could not destroy;

W hen holy martyrs, with enraptur’djoy.

Encounter’d death; enabled to sustainIts utmost terror, and its utmost pain

At suchajuncture, heav’n’s uncommon aid

Shone forth, to help humanity display’d.

Butnow” - his reason for abated grace,Difi’

rence ofprimitive and present case

Now—ease, and honour (mind the M ini,On the profession of the faith attendAtfirst establish

’d by diviner means,On human testimony nowit leansSupports itself, as other facts must do,That rest on human testimony too ;Sufiicient strength is the conviction there,To make the present christian persevere.

”

Here lies the secret—thatmay soon unfoldWhy modern christians fall so short ofold;W hy they appear to have such ditf

’

rent looks,Themen

_

of spirit, andthemen ofbooks :

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3 16e

To find,within his scriptural abode,Th

’enlight

’ning grace that presence once bestow’d.

These suppositions ifa man suppose,You see th

’immediate consequence that flows ;

Thatmen and churches afterwardsattack’d,Are pre

-demolish’d, asserted fact ;W hich. Once advene

’ may, with the reatest

Condemn whatever christians he shall p easeOwing to his forbearance, in some shape,Ifaught th

’extensive havoc shall escape.

W ith such a fund of learning, and a skillTo make itserve what argument hewillW ith choice ofwords, for any chosen theme,W ith an alertness rulingly supreme ;W hat, sir, can single persons or a sect,

When he is pleas’d to preach at

’em, expect?

J ust what they meet with, in the present caseAll the dogmatic censure anddisgrace

That a commanding genius can exert,W hen it becomes religiously alert ;W ith narrowproofs, and conse

quences wide,

Sets all opponents of its rote asi e ;The P AP ISTS first, and then th

’ inferior fry,Fu tu res, vanquish

’d with a W ho but I?"

These are the modish epithets that strikeAt true religion andat false alike ;Ofthese reproaches infidels are ful l ;Their use in others verging down to dullHow one, who is no infidel, appliesThe hackney

’d terms—m ay next salute your eyes.

LETTER VI.

BY reformation from the Church ofHome"

W e mean,“ from faults and errors,

” I presume ;Against her truths to prosecute awarIsprotestant aversion push

’d too far

In them, should ease andhonour not attendThe fair profession, one shouldbe her friend.

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She thinks that Christ has given to his bride,His holy church, an ever-present G uide ;B whose divine assistance, she has thought,T t miracles sometimes were reallywrought;That, by the virtue which His gifts inspire,G reat Saints andmartyrs have adorn

’

d her choir.

Now say theworst that ever can be said,Of that corruption whichmight overspreadThis church in gen

’ral— cast at her the stone,

They who possess perfection in their own ;Yet, were instructive volumes to enlargeOn bright exceptions to the gen

’ralcharge,

They that love truth wherever it is found,W ould joy to see it, ev

’n in Rom ish ground;

W here, ifcorruption grewto such a size,The more illustrious must examples riseOf l ife and manners— these, you W lllagree,Are true reformers, wheresoe

’er they be.

Ofallthe churches, (justly loth to claimxclusive title to a sacred name,)W hat one, Iask, has ever yet den iedThe inspiration - of the promis

’d G uide?

Our own to which the def’rence that is due,Forbids nojust respect for others tooBelieves, asserts, thatwhatreform she made

W as notwithout the Holy Spirit’s aid

If to expect His gifts, however great,Be popish and fanaticaldeceit,She, in her offices of ev

’rykind,

Has also been fanatical ly blind.

W hat form ofher composing canwe traceW ithouta pray

’r for His unstinted grace?

Taught, by the sacred volumes, to inferA Saviour

’s promise reachingdown to her,

G reatly she values the recording books ;But,for fulfil ling, in herself she looks.

That she may always thinkaright, and actBy G od’s G ood Spirit, is her prayed

-for fact ;W ithout his grace, confessing, as she ought,Her inability ofact or thoughtNor does she fear fanatical pretence,W hen asking aidin a sublimer sense ;vor. n . Q

218

Where she records among themartyr’d host,

A Stephen—filled with the Holy G host

She prays for that someplenitude of aid,B which the martyr for his murd

’rersprsy

’d

That she, like him, in what she undergoes,May love and bless her persecuting foes.

Didbut one spark ofso supreme a grace

Burn in the breastwhen preaching is the case,

Howwoulda priest, unpersecuted, dareTo treat, when mounted on a sacred chair,A church of Christ, or any single soul,By will enlisted on the Christian roll,W ith such a rompt and contumelious ire,As love nor lessing ever could inspire?

Altho’ untouch’dwith the celestialFlam ,

Howcould an English priestmistake his aim?So far forget the maxims that appear

Throughout his church’s Liturgy so clear?

W herein the Spirit’s ever constant aid,

W ithout a feign’d distinction, is display

’d

W ithout a rash attempting to explain,By limitations foolish andprofane,W hen, and to whom, to what degree and end,G od’s graces, gifts ,and pow

’rewere to extend;

So far withdrawn—that christians must allowOf nothing extra-ordinary, nowThe vain distinction,which the world has found,To fix an unintelligible boundTo gospel promise, equally sublime,Nor limited by any other time

Than that,when want of faitb,when eadthlywill,Shall hinder heav’n’

s intentions to fulfill.

If, not confining any promis’d pow

’rs,

The Romish church be faulty, what is ours?Does our own church, in her ordainingdayDoes any consecrating Bishop say,W hen on the future riest his hand is laid,Receive the Spirit s ordina aid

Do awful words—receive the oly G hostImply thatHe abides in booke the most?Books—which the Spiritwho first rul

’d the hand,They say themselves, must teach to understand.

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220

TO be religious, something it will costSome riches,

“ honours, pleasureswill be lost ;But if thou countest the sum total o’

er,

Not to be so will cost a great deal more.

HE, that does good with an unwilling m ind,Does that to which he is not well inclin’d’Twil l be reward sufficient for the fact,If G od shal l pardon his obedient act.

IF outward comforts, without realthoughtOfany inward holiness, are sought,G od disappoints us oft, and kindly too

To make us holy is his constant view.

THINK and be carefulwhat thou art within ;For there is sin in the desire of sin

Thinkand be thankficl, in a ditf’rent case ;

For there is grace in the desire ofgrace.

P RAY’R does not ask or want the skill and art

Offorming words but a devotedheartIf thou art real ly in amind to pray,G od knows thy heart and allthat it would say.

CONTENT is better, all the wisewil l grant,Than any earthly good that thou canst want;And discontent, with which the foolish fillTheir minds, is worse than any earthly ill.

TWO heav’ns a right

'

contented man surround,One here, and one hereafter to he found

One in his own meek bosom. here on earth,And one in Abraham

’s, at his future birth.

A HEATED fancy or imagination

Maybe mistaken for an inspiration”

True ; but is this conclusion fair tomake,That inspiration must be allmistake?A pebble stone is not a diamond”—true

Butmust adiamond be a pebble too?

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NO Faith towards G od can e’er subsist withWrath

Tow’rds man, nor Charity with want of Faith;

From the same root hath each of them its growth;You have not either, ifyou have not both.

FAITH is the burning ardor of desire ;Hope is the l ight arisingfrom its fire ;Love 18 the spirit that, proceeding thence,Completes allvirtue in a christian sense.

NOR steel, nor flint alone produces fire ;No spark arises ti ll they both conspire ;Nor faith alone, norwork without , is !right ;Salvation rises, when they both unite .

Z EAL withoutmeekness, like a ship at sea,To rising storms may soon become a prey;Andmeekness without zeal is like the same

W hen adeadcalm stops every sailing aim.

IF gold be offer’d thee, thou dost not say,

To-morrowI will take it, not to-daySalvation offer

’d, why art thou so cool,

To let thyself become to-morrow’s fool?

HYP OCRITES in religion form a planThat makes them hateful both to G od and man ;By seeming zeal they lose the world

’s esteem,

And G od’s because they are not what they seem.

A HUMBLE man, tho’all the world assault

To pullhim down, yet G od willstill exaltNor can a proud, by all the world’s renown,Be lifted up. for G odwill pul l him down .

HE is no fool who charitably givesW hat he can only look atwhilst he lives ;Sure as he is to find, when hence he goes,A recompencewhich he can never lose.

Q 2

222

IF giving to poor people he to lendThy money to the Lord, who is their friend,The highest int

’reat upon int

’rest,sure,

Is to let out thy money to the poor.

WHEN grief orjoy shall press upon thee hard,He then especially upon thy guard ;Then is most danger of not acting right

A calmer state will give a surer light.

IF we mind nothing but the body’s pride ,

W e lose the body and the soul beside ;Ifwe have nothing but the earth in View,

W e lose the earth, and heav’nly riches too.

HE is a sinner, you are pleae’d to say,

Then love him for the sake ofChrist, Ipray,Ifon his gracious words you place your trust,

- I came to call the sinners, not thejuctSecond his call ; which ifyou will not do,You

’l l be the greater sinner of the two.

WHY should I he so eager to espyThe mote that swims upon my brother

’s eye?

And stil l forget, as if I had not known,The dark’ning beam that overspreads my own?

0 let me play the hypocrite no more'

!

But strive to cure my own obstructed ht !

Then shal l I see, much clearer than be ore,To setmy undiscerning brother right.

TO own a G odwho does not speakto men,Is first to own and then disown again ;Of all idolatry the total sumIs having gods that are both deafanddumb.

LOVE does the goodwhich G od commands to do;Fear shuns the illwhich he prohibits tooTheyboth describe, tho

’ by a different name,A disposition of the mind the same.

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224

While I dwell in his presence’tis then that I live,

An’

d enjoy a content whichbe onl can give

In allother things I have labour’to find

That truth which might fillan intelligent m ind ;But I labour’d in vain, for it isHe aloneThat can give me instruction,andmake himself known.

AN EP IGRAM,

ON'

rm : a ssnnnnss or DIVINE nova.

FAITH,Hope,and Lovewere question’dwhat they thong

Of future glory, which religion taught :Now faith believ’d it, firmly, to be true ;And hope expected so to find it too ;Love answer’d, smiling with a conscious glow,

Believe? Expect?” I KNOW it to be so .

A CONTRAST,

BETWEEN '

rwo EMINENT nrvnvns.

TWO diE’rent painters, artists in their way,

Have drawn religion in her full displayTo both she sat— one gaz

’d at her all 0 er ;

The other fix’d upon her features more

H has figur’d herwith ev’

ry grace

That ess could give but Lawhas hit her face.

ON P R EA C H IN G .

m nim ium.

THE specious sermons ofa learnedmanAre little else butj lashes in the pan ,

The mere haranguing upon what they call

Morality, is powder without ballBut he who preacheswith a christian grace,F ires at our vices, and the shot takes place .

FINIS.