I wake whole nights, in vain, to steal it from them.

Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him, | These courtiers keep the secret of their king,
Farther and faster, than a thought can fly,
And feeds his planets, with eternal fires?
Beyond this city, why strays human thought?
One wonderful, enough for man to know!
One firmament, enough for man to read!
Nor is instruction, here, our only gain;
There dwells a nobler pathos in the skies,
Which warms our passions, proselytes our
hearts.

In ardent contemplation's rapid car,
From earth, as from my barrier, I set out:
How swift I mount; diminish'd earth recedes;
I pass the moon; and, from her farther side,
Pierce heaven's blue curtain; pause at every
planet,

And ask for him, who gives their orbs to roll.
From Saturn's ring, I take my bolder flight,
Amid those sovereign glories of the skies,

How eloquently shines the glowing pole !
With what authority it gives its charge,
Remonstrating great truths in style sublime,Of independent, native lustre, proud,
Though silent, loud! heard earth around,
above

The planets heard; and not unheard in hell;
Hell has its wonder, though too proud to praise.
Divine instructor! thy first volume, this,
For man's perusal; all in capitals!
In moon and stars (heaven's golden alphabet!)
Emblaz'd to seize the sight: who runs, may

read;

Who reads, can understand: 'tis unconfin'd
To Christian land, or Jewry; fairly writ
In language universal, to mankind :
A language, lofty to the learn'd; yet plain,
To those that feed the flock, or guide the
plough,

Or from its husk strike out the bounding grain!
A language, worthy the great mind that
speaks!

Preface, and comment, to the sacred page!
Stupendous book of wisdom, to the wise!
Stupendous book and open'd, Night! by thee.
By thee much open'd, I confess, O Night!
Yet more I wish; say, gentle Night! whose

beams

Give us a new creation, and present
The world's great picture, soften'd to the sight;
Say, thou, whose mild dominion's silver key
Unlocks our hemisphere, and sets to view
Worlds without number, worlds conceal'd by
day

Behind the proud, and envious star of noon!
Canst thou not draw a deeper scene?-and
show

The mighty potentate, to whom belong
These rich regalia, pompously display'd?
O for a glimpse of him my soul adores!
As the chas'd hart, amid the desert waste,
Pants for the living stream; for him who
made her,

So pants the thirsty soul, amid the blank
Of sublunary joys say, goddess! where?
Where blazes his bright court? where burns
his throne?
[thee, round
Thou know'st for thou art near him; by
His grand pavilion, sacred fame reports,
The sable curtain drawn, if not, can none
Of thy fair daughter-train, so swift of wing,
Who travel far, discover where he dwells?
A star his dwelling pointed out below:
Say, ye, who guide the wilder'd in the waves,
On which hand must I bend my course to find
him?

The souls of system!-What behold I now ?
A wilderness of wonders burning round;
Where larger suns inherit higher spheres ;
Nor halt I here; my toil is but begun;
"Tis but the threshold of the Deity;
Or, far beneath it, I am grovelling still.
§ 127. Death.

By silence, death's peculiar attribute!
By darkness, guilt's inevitable doom:
By darkness, and by silence, sisters dread!
That draw the curtain round night's ebon
throne,

And raise ideas, solemn as the scene:
By night, and all of awful, night presents
To thought, or sense, by these her trembling
fires,

By these bright orators, that prove and praise,
And press thee to revere, the Deity:
Perhaps, too, aid thee, when rever'd a while,
To reach his throne; as stages of the soul;
Through which, at different periods, she shall
Refining gradual, for her final height;
And purging off some dross at every sphere :
By this dark pall thrown o'er the silent world:
By the world's kings, and kingdoms, most re-

nown'd,

[pass,

From short ambition's zenith set for ever;
By the long list of swift mortality,
From Adam downward to this evening's knell,
Which midnight waves in fancy's startled eye;
And shocks her with a hundred centuries
Round death's black banner throng'd, in human
thought:

By thousands, now, resigning their last breath,
And calling thee-wert thou so wise to hear:
By tombs o'er tombs arising, human earth;
Ejected, to make room for-human earth;
By pompous obsequies, that shun the day,
The torch funereal, and the nodding plume,
Boast of our ruin! triumph of our dust!
By the damp vault that weeps o'er royal
bones;

And the pale lamp that shows the ghastly dead,
More ghastly through the thick-incumbent
gloom!

By visits (if there are) from darker scenes,
The gliding spectre! and the groaning grove!
By groans and graves, and miseries that groan
For the grave's shelter: by desponding men,
Senseless to pains of death, from pangs of

guilt:

Man's sickly soul, though turn'd, and toss'd for

ever,

And just are all, determin'd to reclaim;
Which sets that title high within thy reach.
Awake, then: thy Philander calls: awake!
Thou, who shalt wake, when the creation
sleeps:

From side to side, can rest on nought but thee;
Here, in full trust; hereafter, in full joy.
Thou God and mortal! thence more God to
man!
[praise, When, like a taper, all these suns expire:
Thou canst not 'scape uninjur'd from our When time, like him of Gaza, in his wrath
Uninjur'd from our praise can he escape, Plucking the pillars that support the world,
Who, disembosom'd from the Father, bows In nature's ample ruins lies entomb'd;
The heaven of heavens, to kiss the distant And midnight, universal midnight! reigns.
Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul! [earth!
Against the cross, death's iron sceptre breaks
Throws wide the gates celestial to his foes!
Their gratitude, for such a boundless debt,
Deputes their suffering brothers to receive!
Injoins it as our duty, to rejoice!
And (to close all) omnipotently kind,
Takes his delights among the sons of men.
What words are these ?-And did they come
from heav'n?

And were they spoke to man? to guilty man?
What are all mysteries to love like this?
Rich prelibation of consummate joy!

$130. Conclusion.

THEN, farewell night! of darkness, now no

more:

Joy breaks, shines, triumphs; 'tis eternal day!
Shall that which rises out of nought complain,
Of a few evils, paid with endless joys?
My soul! henceforth, in sweetest union join
The two supports of human happiness,
Which some, erroneous, think can never meet;
True taste of life, and constant thought of
death;

Thy patron, he, whose diadem has dropp'd
Yon gems of heav'n; eternity thy prize.
How must a spirit, late escap'd from earth,
The truth of things new-blazing in its eye,
Look back, astonished, on the ways of men,
Whose life's whole drift is to forget their
graves!

And when our present privilege is past,
The same astonishment will seize us all.
What then must pain us, would preserve us

now!

Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wise;
That is, seize wisdom, ere she seizes thee:
For, what is hell? full knowledge of the truth,
When truth, resisted long, is sworn our foe;
And calls eternity to do her right.

Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light,
And sacred silence whispering truths divine,
And truths divine converting pain to peace,
My song the midnight raven has outwing'd,
And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes,
Beyond the flaming limits of the world,
Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight
of fancy, when our hearts remain below?
Virtue abounds in flatterers and foes;
Lorenzo! rise, at this auspicious hour;
An hour, when heaven's most intimate with

man,

When, like a falling star, the ray divine
Glides swift into the bosom of the just;

!|

FABLES FOR THE FEMALE SEX,
BY MOORE.

131. FABLE I. The Poet and his Patron.
WHY, Celia, is your spreading waist
So loose, so negligently lac'd?
Why must the wrapping bed-gown hide
Your snowy bosom's swelling pride?
How ill that dress adorns your head,
Distain'd and rumpled from the bed!
Those clouds that shade your blooming face
A little water might displace,
As nature ev'ry morn bestows
The crystal dew to cleanse the rose.
Those tresses, as the raven black,
That wav'd in ringlets down your back,
Uncomb'd, and injur'd by neglect,
Destroy the face which once they deck'd.
Whence this forgetfulness of dress?
Pray, madam, are you married ?—Yes.
Nay, then indeed the wonder ceases;
No matter now how loose your dress is ;
The end is won, your fortune's made;
Your sister now may take the trade.

Alas! what pity 'tis to find
This fault in half the female kind!
From hence proceed aversion, strife,
And all that sours the wedded life.
Beauty can only point the dart,
'Tis neatness guides it to the heart;
Let neatness then and beauty strive
To keep a wav'ring flame alive.

'Tis harder far (you'll find it true)
To keep the conquest, than subdue;
Admit us once behind the screen,
What is there farther to be seen?
A newer face may raise the flame,
But ev'ry woman is the same.

Then study chiefly to improve
The charm that fix'd your husband's love.
Weigh well his humor. Was it dress
That gave your beauty pow'r to bless ?
Pursue it still; be neater seen;
'Tis always frugal to be clean;
So shall you keep alive desire,
And time's swift wing shall fan the fire.
In garret high (as stories say)
A poet sung his tuneful lay:
So soft, so smooth, his verse you'd swear
Apollo and the Muses there:
Through all the town his praises rung;
His sonnets at the playhouse sung;
High waving o'er his lab'ring head,
The goddess Want her pinions spread,

To scour the fields and spring the game; Or, plunging in the wint'ry wave, For man the wounded bird to save. With watchful diligence I keep From prowling wolves his fleecy sheep: At home his midnight hours secure, And drive the robber from the door : For this his breast with kindness glows, The Farmer, the Spaniel, For this his hand the food bestows; and the Cat.

Just left his lady of a night,
Like him to follow new delight.

The youth, of many a conquest vain,
Flew off to seek the chirping train;
The chirping train he quickly found,
And with a saucy ease bow'd round.
For ev'ry she his bosom burns,
And this and that he woos by turns;
And here a sigh, and there a bill;
And here those eyes, so form'd to kill!
And now, with ready tongue, he strings
Unmeaning, soft, resistless things;
With vows and dem-me's skill'd to woo
As other pretty fellows do.

Not that he thought this short essay
A prologue needful to his play;
No, trust me, says our learned letter,
He knew the virtuous sex much better:
But these he held as specious arts,
To show his own superior parts;
The form of decency to shield,
And give a just pretence to yield.
Thus finishing his courtly play,
He mark'd the fav'rite of a day;
With careless impudence drew near,
And whisper'd Hebrew in her ear;
A hint, which, like the mason's sign,
The conscious can alone divine.

The flutt'ring nymph, expert at feigning,
Cried, Sir ?-pray, Sir, explain your meaning-
Go prate to those that may endure ye!—
To me this rudeness !-I'll assure ye!
Then off she glided like a swallow,
As saying-you guess where to follow.
To such as know the party set,
"Tis needless to declare they met ;
The parson's barn, as authors mention,
Confess'd the fair had apprehension.
Her honor there secure from stain,
She held all farther trifling vain ;
No more affected to be coy,
But rush'd, licentious, on the joy.
Hist, love! the male companion cried;
Retire a while, I fear we're spied;
Nor was the caution vain : he saw
A Turtle rustling in the straw;
While o'er her callow brood she hung,
And fondly thus address'd her young :
Ye tender objects of my care!
Peace, peace, ye little helpless pair;
Anon he comes, your gentle sire,
And brings you all your hearts require.
For us, his infants, and his bride,
For us, with only love to guide,
Our lord assumes an eagle's speed,
And like a lion dares to bleed.
Nor yet by wintry skies confin'd,
He mounts upon the rudest wind,
From danger tears the vital spoil,
And with affection sweetens toil.
Ah cease, too vent'rous, cease to dare;
In thine, our dearer safety spare !
From him, ye cruel falcons, stray;
And turn, ye fowlers, far away!

Should I survive to see the day
That tears me from myself away;
That cancels all that Heaven could give,
The life by which alone I live,
Alas, how more than lost were I,
Who in the thought already die.

Ye powers whom men and birds obey,
Great rulers of your creatures, say,
Why mourning comes, by bliss convey'd,
And e'en the sweets of love allay'd?
Where grows enjoyment, tall and fair,
Around it twines entangling care;
While fear for what our souls possess
Enervates ev'ry pow'r to bless;
Yet friendship forms the bliss above;
And, life, what art thou without love!

Our hero, who had heard apart,
Felt something moving in his heart;
But quickly, with disdain, suppress'd
The virtue rising in his breast;
And first he feign'd to laugh aloud;
And next, approaching, smil'd and bow'd:
Madam, you must not think me rude;
Good manners never can intrude;
I vow I come through pure good-nature-
(Upon my soul a charming creature!)
Are these the comforts of a wife?
This careful, cloister'd, moping life?
No doubt that odious thing, call'd Duty,
Is a sweet province for a beauty.
Thou pretty ignorance! thy will
Is measur'd to thy want of skill;

That good old-fashion'd dame, thy mother,
Has taught thy infant years no other :
The greatest ill in the creation
Is sure the want of education.

But think ye-tell me without feigning-
Have all these charms no farther meaning!
Dame nature, if you don't forget her,
Might teach your ladyship much better.
For shame! reject this mean employment,
Enter the world and taste enjoyment,
Where time by circling bliss we measure;
Beauty was form'd alone for pleasure:
Come, prove the blessing, follow me,
Be wise, be happy, and be free.

Kind sir, replied our matron chaste,
Your zeal seems pretty much in haste;
I own, the fondness to be blest,
Is a deep thirst in ev'ry breast;
Of blessings too I have my store,
Yet quarrel not should Heaven give more;
Then prove the change to be expedient,

| And think me, sir, your most obedient.
Here turning, as to one inferior,
Our gallant spoke, and smil'd superior
Methinks, to quit your boasted station
Requires a world of hesitation;
Where brats and bonds are held a blessing,
The case, I doubt, is past redressing.
Why, child, suppose the joys I mention
Were the mere fruits of my invention,
You've cause sufficient for your carriage,
In flying from the curse of marriage;