Unjust alike all rule, where public choice
Speaks not through laws a willing people's voice.
Nor freedom suffers when the guilty fall,
'Tis nature's doom, 'tis self-defence in all.
Such now is man deprav'd, that fear must sway
To tread the paths where duty points the way; -470
The wretch must suffer to forewarn the rest,
And some must fall to stop the spreading pest.
Alone the genʼral welfare can demand
The bleeding victim from th' unwilling hand.
Hence public pains-what to the crime is due,
O Judge supreme! must be reserv'd for you.
To you alone, whose all-pervading eye
Deep in the breast can latent thought espy;
Try every action by the known intent,
And to each crime adapt its punishment;
While men, misled by erring lights, dispense
The doom of guilt to injur'd innocence;
Or though repentance cleanse the moral stain,
Inflict on crimes aton'd avenging pain.]
Yet blameless they who act sincere their part,
Faultless he errs who cannot read the heart.
Not such fierce flames the mad enthusiast's zeal,
On errors harmless to the genʼral weal,
Whether false notions wander far from truth,
Or age retain the trace impress'd in youth,
While int❜rest prompts the holy murd❜rer's hand,
In sacred fires to light th❜ unhallow'd brand;
To draw destruction from heaven's saving page,
And bid sweet mercy breathe relentless rage.
Accurs'd all such! and he with joy elate,
Whose baleful breath embitters certain fate;
Who on th' imploring face malignant smiles,
And sentenc'd wretches wantonly reviles.
Better, far better in the savage den,
Let the robb'd lion judge o'er prostrate men: 5
Better let pow'r the lawless faulchion draw,
Than coward cruelty disgrace the law.
This well you know, O YORKE! whose righteous.
Gives to the innocent a sure retreat;
Severely just, and piously humane,
The wretch you punish, while you share his pain.
Tears with the dreadful words of sentence flow,
Nor does the rigid judge the man forego.
So feels the breast humane, ye truly brave!
And such is thine, my friend, intent to save!_57c
Whether thy bounty pining want relieve,
Or lenient pity sooth the hearts that grieve;
Whether thy pious hand due bounds prescribe
To little tyrants, o'er the lesser tribe ;
Or whether nobler warmth expand thy soul,
And huge leviathan unaw'd controul.
Nor Britain only claims thy gen'rous plan, Thy rule is justice, and thy care is man. And may this truth thy fair example prove, Justice shall fan the flame of social love.
LifeTHROUGH the wild maze of life's still varying plan,
Bliss is alone th' important task of man
All else is trifling, whether grave or gay,
A Newton's labors, or an infant's play;
Whether this vainly wastes th' unheeded sun,
Or those more vainly mark the course it run;
For of the two, sure smaller is the fault,
To err unthinking, than to err with thought;
But if, like them, we still must trifles use,
Harmless at least, like theirs, be those we choose
Enough it is that reason blames the choice,
Join not to her's the wretch's plaintive voice;
Be folly free from guilt: let foplings play,
Or write, or talk, or dress, or die away.
Let those, if such there be, whose giant-mind
Superior tow'rs above their pigmy kind,
Unaided and alone, he realms explore,
Where hail and snow renew their treasur'd store.
Lo! heav'n spreads all its stars; let those explain,
What balanc'd pow'rs the rolling orbs sustain; 20
Nor in more humble scales, pernicious weigh
Sense, justice, truth, against seducing pay.
So distant regions shall employ their thought,
And spotless senates here remain unbought.
Well had great Charles, by early want inspir'd, With warring puppets, guiltless praise acquir'd ; So would that flame have mimic fights engag'd, Which fann'd by pow'r, o'er wasted nations rag'd.
Curs'd be the wretch, should all the mouths of fame,
Wide o'er the world his deathless deeds proclaim, 30
Who like a baneful comet spreads his blaze,
While trembling crowds in stupid wonder gaze;
Whose potent talents serve his lawless will,
Which turns each Virtue to a public ill,
With direful rage perverted might employs,
And Heav'n's great ends with Heav'n's best means destroys.
The praise of power is his, whose hand supplies
Fire to the bold, and prudence to the wise;
While man this only real merit knows,
Fitly to use the gifts which Heav'n bestows:
If savage valor be his vaunted fame,
The mountain-lion shall dispute his claim :
Or, if perfidious wiles deserve applause,
Through slighted vows, and violated laws
The subtle plotter's title stands confess'd,
Whose dagger gores the trusting tyrant's breast.
|