Its favours here are trials, not rewards; Like bosom friendships to resentment sour'd, 330 335 340 345 350 The great magician's dead! Thou poor, pale piece 355 Of virtuous praise. Death's subtle seed within, (Sly, treacherous miner!) working in the dark, Smiled at thy well concerted scheme, and beckon'd Unfaded ere it fell, one moment's prey! 360 Man's foresight is conditionally wise; Lorenzo! wisdom into folly turns Oft, the first instant; its idea fair To labouring thought is born. How dim our eye! The present moment terminates our sight; 365 Clouds, thick as those on Doomsday, drown the next; We penetrate, we prophesy in vain, Time is dealt out by particles, and cach Are mingled with the streaming sands of life. 370 Deep silence, where Eternity begins. By Nature's law, what may be may be now; There's no prerogative in human hours. In human hearts what bolder thought can rise Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn? 375 For numbers this is certain; the reverse Is sure to none; and yet on this perkups, Nor had he cause; a warning was denied. 385 How many fall as sudden, not as safe! As sudden, though for years admonish'd home; Of human ills the last extreme beware; 390 395 Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears 400 405 At least their own; their future selves applauds. The thing they can't but purpose they postpone. 410 "Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool, And scarce in human wisdom to do more. All promise is poor dilatory man, And that through every stage. (When young, indeed, In full content we sometimes nobly rest, 415 Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; 420 425 430 And why? because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal but themselves; Themselves, when some alarming shock of Fato Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread⚫ But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where pass'd the shaft no trace is found. As from the wing no scar the sky retains, The parted wave no furrov; from the keel, So dies in human hearts the thought of death: E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their gave. Can I forget Philander? that were strange! O my full heart!-But should I give it vent, The longest night, though longer far, would fail, And the lark listen to my midnight song. The sprightly lark's shrill matin wakes the morn ; Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breast, I strive, with wakeful melody, to cheer The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel! like thee, And call the stars to listen: every star 435 441 Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay. Yet be not vain; there are who thine excel, 445 And charm through distant ages. Wrapp'd in shade, Prisoner of darkness! to the silent hours How often 1 repeat their rage divine, I roll their raptures, but not catch their fire. To lull my griefs, and steal my heart from woe! 450 Or, Milton! thee; ah, could I reach your strain 455 460 NIGHT II. ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF WILMINGTON. WHEN the cock crew, he wept,'-smote by that eye Rouse souls from slumber, into thoughts of Heaven. 5 And fortit de abandon'd, where is man? 10 I know the terms on which he sees the light: Of dear Philander's dust. He thus, though dead, 15 price, Death, friendship, and Philander's final scene. So could I touch these themes as might obtain Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengaged, The good deed would delight ine; half impress 20 On my dark cloud an Iris, and from grief Call glory.-Dost t'ou mourn Philander's fate? I know thou say'st it: says thy life the same? He mourns the dead who lives as they desire. |