Will tread afide, and let the reptile live.
The creeping vermin, loathsome to the fight,-
And charg'd perhaps with venom, that intrudes,
A vifitor unwelcome, into fcenes:
Sacred to neatnefs and repofe, th' alcove,
The chamber, or refectory, may
A neceffary act incurs no blame.
Not fo, when held within their proper bounds,.
And guiltless of offence, they range the air,
Or take their paftime in the fpacious field:
There they are privileg'd; and he that hunts
Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong,
Disturbs th' œconomy of nature's realm,
Who, when she form'd, defigned, them an abode.
The fum is this: If man's convenience health,
Or fafety interfere, his rights and claims
Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs.
Elfe they are all-the meaneft things that are,
As free to live, and to enjoy that life,
As God was free to form them at the first,
Who, in his fov'reign wifdom, made them all.
Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your fons
To love it too. The fpring-time of our years
Is foon dishonour'd and defil'd in most
By budding ills, that afk a prudent hand
To check them. But, alas! none fooner shoots,
If unrestrain'd, into luxuriant growth,
Than cruelty, most dev'lish of them all.
Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act,
By which Heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man;
And he that shows none, being ripe in years,
And confcious of the outrage he commits,
Shall feek it, and not find it in his turn.
Distinguish'd much by reason, and still more
By our capacity of grace divine,
From creatures that exift but for our fake,
Which having ferv'd us, perish, we are held
Accountable, and God, fome future day,
Will reckon with us roundly for th' abufe
Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust.
Superior as we are, they yet depend
Not more on human help, than we on theirs.
Their ftrength, or speed, or vigilance, were giv'n
In aid of our defects. In fome are found
Such teachable and apprehenfive parts,
That man's attainments in his own concerns,
Match'd with th' expertness of the brutes in theirs,
Are oft-times vanquish'd and thrown far behind.
Some fhow that nice fagacity of fmell,
And read with fuch difcernment, in the port
And figure of the man, his fecret aim,
That oft we owe our fafety to a skill
We could not teach, and must despair to learn.
But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop
To quadrupede instructors, many a good
And ufeful quality, and virtue too,
Rarely exemplified among ourselves.
Attachment never to be wean'd, or chang'd
By any change of fortune; proof alike
Against unkindness, absence, and negle& :
Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat
Can move or warp; and gratitude for small
And trivial favors, lafting as the life,
And glift'ning even in the dying eye.
Man praises man. Defert in arts or arms
Wins public honor; and ten thousand fit
Patiently prefent at a facred fong,
Commemoration-mad; content to hear
(Oh wonderful effect of mufic's pow'r!)
Meffiah's eulogy, for Handel's fake.
But less, methinks, than facrilege might ferve― (For was it lefs, what heathen would have dar'd To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath,
And hang it up in honor of a man ?)
Much less might ferve, when all that we defign Is but to gratify an itching ear,
And give the day to a musician's praise.
Remember Handel? Who that was not born
Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets,
Or can, the more than Homer of his age?
Yes we remember him; and while we praise
A talent fo divine, remember too
That His most holy book from whom it came
Was never meant, was never us'd before,
To buckram out the mem'ry of a man.
But hush!-the mufe perhaps is too fevere,
And with a gravity beyond the fize
And measure of the offence, rebukes a deed
Lefs impious than abfurd, and owing more
To want of judgment than to wrong design,
So in the chapel of old Ely House,
When wand'ring Charles, who meant to be the third,
Had fled from William, and the news was fresh,
The fimple clerk, but loyal, did announce,
And eke did rear right merrily, two staves,
Sung to the praise and glory of King George.
-Man praises man, and Garrick's mem❜ry next,
When time hath fomewhat mellow'd it, and made
The idol of our worship while he liv'd,
The God of our idolatry once more,
Shall have its altar; and the world shall go
In pilgrimage to bow before his fhrine.
The theatre, too fmall, fhall fuffocate
Its fqueez'd contents, and more than it admits
Shall figh at their exclufion, and return
Ungratified. For there fome noble lord
Shall stuff his shoulders with king Richard's bunch,
Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak,
And strut, and storm and ftraddle, ftamp and ftare,
To fhow the world how Garrick did not act.
For Garrick was a worshipper himself;
He drew the Liturgy, and fram'd the rites
And folemn ceremonial of the day,
And call'd the world to worship on the banks
Of Avon, fam'd in fong. Ah, pleasant proof!
That piety has ftill in human hearts
Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct.
The mulb'ry-tree was hung with blooming
The mulb'ry-tree stood center of the dance;
The mulb'ry-tree was hymn'd with dulcet airs;
And from his touchwood trunk, the mulb'ry-tree
Supplied fuch relies, as devotion holds
Still facred, and preferves with pious care.
So 'twas an hallow'd time: decorum reign'd,
And mirth without offence. No few return'd,
Doubtlefs, much edified, and all refresh'd.
-Man praifes man.
|