[From Vanity of Human Wishes.] WISDOM'S PRAYER. WHERE then shall Hope and Fear their objects find? Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise; No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain, Which Heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain. Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice, Safe in His power, whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious prayer; Implore His aid, in His decisions rest, Secure whate'er He gives, He gives the best. Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervors for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resigned: For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death, kind Nature's signal of retreat: These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain, These goods He grants, who grants the power to gain; With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find. [From Vanity of Human Wishes.] ON what foundation stands the How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide: A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labors tire; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquered lord of pleasure and of pain. No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field; Behold surrounding kings their powers combine, And one capitulate, and one resign; Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; "Think nothing gained," he cries. "till naught remain, And Winter barricades the realms of The sober trader at a tattered cloak He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay; Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day! The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands; Condemned a needy suppliant to wait, While ladies interpose and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound, Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destined to a barren BEN JONSON. TO CELIA. DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine: Or leave a kiss but in the cup I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; The thirst that from the soul doth But thou thereon didst only breathe rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, 1 swear, Not of itself but thee! moors: Thus ye teach us, every day, Wisdom, though fled far away. Bards of passion and of mirth No, - yet still steadfast, still un-Ye have left your souls on earth! changeable, Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest; Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, Ye have souls in heaven too, Double-lived in regions new! FANCY. EVER let the fancy roam; And so live ever,- or else swoon to Pleasure never is at home; death. ODE ON THE POETS. BARDS of passion and of mirth ous And the parle of voices thunderous; At a touch sweet pleasure melteth Open wide the mind's cage-door,— Cloys with tasting. What do then? [her. send To banish Even from her sky. And thou shalt quaff it,-thou shalt hear Distant harvest-carols clear,— Sweet birds antheming the morn; Shaded hyacinth, alway Sapphire queen of the mid-May; |