Quit their old station and primeval frame,

And lose their shape, their essence, and their name?

Reduce the song; our hopes, our joys are vain ;

Our lot is sorrow, and our portion pain.

What pause from woe,
The name of wise or great, of judge or king?
What is a king? a man condemn'd to bear
The public burden of the nation's care;
Now crown'd, some angry faction to appease,
Now falls a victim to the people's ease;

what hopes of comfort bring

275

From the first blooming of his ill-taught youth Nourish'd in flattery and estrang'd from truth: 280 At home surrounded by a servile crowd

Prompt to abuse, and in detraction load;

Abroad begirt with men, and swords, and spears,
His very state acknowledging his fears;

Marching amidst a thousand guards, he shows
His secret terror of a thousand foes:

285

In

war, however prudent, great, or brave, To blind events and fickle chance a slave ; Seeking to settle what for ever flies,

Sure of the toil, uncertain of the prize.

But he returns with conquest on his brow,
Brings up the triumph, and absolves the vow:
The captive generals to his carr are ty'd,
The joyful citizens' tumultuous tide

Echoing his glory, gratify his pride.

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290

What is this triumph? madness, shouts, and noise, One great collecion of the people's voice.

>

S

The wretches he brings back, in chains relate
What may to-morrow be the victor's fate :
The spoils and trophies borne before him show
National loss and epidemic woe,

Various distress, which he and his may know.
Does he not mourn the valiant thousands slain,
The heroes, once the glory of the plain,
Left in the conflict of the fatal day,

Or the wolf's portion, or the vulture's prey?
Does he not weep the laurel which he wears,
Wet with the soldiers' blood and widows' tears?
See, where he comes, the darling of the war!
See millions crowding round the gilded carr!
In the vast joys of this ecstatic hour,
And full fruition of successful pow'r,

395

One moment and one thought might let him scau
The various turns of life, and fickle state of man.
Are the dire images of sad distrust,

And popular change, obscur'd, amid the dust
That rises from the victor's rapid wheel?
Can the loud clarion or shrill fife repel

310

315

The inward cries of Care? can Nature's voice, Plaintive, be drown'd, or lessen'd in the noise, 320 Tho' shouts as thunder loud afflict the air,

Stun the birds, now releas'd, and shake the iv'ry chair? Yon' crowd (he might reflect) yon' joyful crowd, Pleas'd with my honours, in my praises loud,

Volume III.

I

(Should fleeting Vict'ry to the vanquish'd go,
Should she depress my arms and raise the foe)
Would for that foe with equal ardour wait
At the high palace or the crowded gate,
With restless rage would pull my statues down,
And cast the brass a-new to his renown.

O impotent desire of worldly sway!
That I, who make the triumph of to-day,

May of to-morrow's pomp one part appear,
Ghastly with wounds, and lifeless on the bier!
Then (vileness of mankind!) then of all these
Woom my dilated eye with labour sees,
Would one, alas! repeat me good or great,
Wash my pale body, or bewail my fate?
Or, march'd I chain'd behind the hostile carr,
The victor's pastime, and the sport of war,
Would one, would one his pitying sorrow lend,
Or be so poor to own he was my friend?

Avails it then, O Reason, to be wise?
To see this cruel scene with quicker eyes?
To know with more distinction to complain,
And have superior sense in feeling pain ?

Let us revolve, that roll with strictest eye
Where safe from time distinguish'd actions lie,
And judge if greatness be exempt from pain,

Or pleasure ever may with pow'r remain,

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330

335

349

345

350

Adam, great type, for whom the world was made,

The fairest blessing to his arms convey'd,

A charming wife; and air, and sea, and land,
And all that move therein, to his command
Render'd obedient: say, my pensive muse,
What did these golden promises produce?
Scarce tasting life, he was of joy bereav'd;
One day, I think, in Paradise he liv'd,
Destin'd the next his journey to pursue,
Where wounding thorns and cursed thistles grew.
Ere yet he earns his bread, a-down his brow,
Inclin'd to earth, his lab'ring sweat must flow;
His limbs must ake, with daily toils opprest,

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361

Ere long-wish'd night brings necessary rest:
Still viewing with regret his darling Eve,
He for her follies and his own must grieve.
Bewailing still afresh their hapless choice,
His ear oft' frighted with the imag'd voice
Of Heav'n when first it thunder'd, oft' his view,
Aghast, as when the infant lightning flew,

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370

And the stern cherub stopp'd the fatal road,
Arm'd with the flames of an avenging God,
His younger son on the polluted ground,
First fruit of death, lies plaintive of a wound
Giv'n by a brother's hand; his eldest birth
Flies, mark'd by Heav'n, a fugitive o'er earth;

Yet why these sorrows heap'd upon the sire,

Becomes nor man nor angel to inquire.

375

Each age sinn'd on, and guilt advanc'd with time;

The son still added to the father's crime:

380

Till God arose, and great in anger, said,
Lo! it repenteth me that man was made.
Withdraw thy light, thou Sun! be dark, ye Skies!
And from your deep abyss, ye Waters, rise! 384
The frighted angels heard th' Almighty Lord,
And o'er the earth, from wrathful viols, pour'd
Tempests and storm, obedient to his word.
Mean time his providence to Noah gave
The guard of all that he design'd to save :
Exempt from gen'ral doom the patriarch stood, 390
Contemn'd the waves, and triumph'd o'er the flood.
The winds fall silent and the waves decrease;
The dove brings quiet, and the olive peace:
Yet still his heart does inward sorrow feel,
Which faith alone forbids him to reveal.

If on the backward world his views are cast,

395

'Tis death diffus'd, and universal waste. Present (sad prospect!) can he aught descry But (what affects his melancholy eye)

The beauties of the ancient fabric lost,

400

In chains of craggy hill, or lengths of dreary coast?
While to high heav'n his pious breathings turn'd,
Weeping he hop'd, and sacrificing mourn'd;
When of God's image only eight be found
Snatch'd from the wat'ry grave, and sav'd from na
tions drown'd;

And of three sons, the future hopes of earth,

405

The seed whence empires must receive their birth,