Transcends the false forbearance of the fond.
So the ospray curbs his eaglet in the flight
And wheels him careful to the dim seen land.
For in the depths of the parental heart
Forecasting goodness dwells, under a shew
Of onlooking supine, or stern reproof.
And tho' a father's brows are oft depress'd,
And eye seems watchful, only to rebuke,
And aspect rarely breaks into a smile :-
Yet he, in truth, is tender; strongly mov'd
With foresight of the future weal and woe,
That on this stage, the life may mar or mend
Of those he loves with an eternal pang,
That farther reaches than the dubious bounds
Of our brief pilgrimage beneath the sun.
O upright father! precious were the thoughts
Of sacred love that pierc'd thy breast for me:
Methinks the gladsome days I can recal
Of heart-whole childhood, straying at thy foot
Or lifted to thine arms, th' exulting top
And joyful summit of my young desire;
When we would traverse slow the daisied turf
Recumbent herds amid, and thou wouldst turn
And glad my mother with my witty words,
And kiss my infant brow, and much enforce
Upon my playful spirit truth and right.
Alas! would that those blest and halcyon hours
That I remember had a heavenly charm
Were still our fate; but we unsafely dwell
Upon a pinnacle and barren height,
Joyless, and with life's best delights uncheer'd ;
A giddy rock, where furious storms assail,
And my soul sickens at the lowering heavens.
My infant lips thou taught'st, to utter words
In show of prayer; and when advanc'd, mature,
Didst in the unerring mirror of heaven's law
Pourtray me all the darkness of my soul,
The wildness of my will, my fraudful heart
That left to guidance of itself, brake loose;
And swerving like a false deceitful bow,
Far from the loftiest good hath ever stray'd.
His name thou didst unfold, whose name is peace,
God over all, who stoops down to become,
(O depth of love, unmeasur'd and unknown,)
That pitying shepherd who hath yielded up
Unto the penal majesty of heaven,
As of a lamb without offence, and pure,
His blood of sovran and mysterious force,
To save; that ceaseless life, his own might win.
Ah! but I well remember how thou pled'st
With sighs and tears, under the evening oak;
What time the nightingale suspent his lay,
Our artless melody to list; extract
From David's songs, while our devoted eyes
The setting sun pursued to other worlds,
Leaving this present earthly spot uncar'd;
And minds were elevate within the veil
To fairer light up in the heaven of heavens.
Those sunn'd, and primrose days, were sweet, the
Frolic'd around, and our young hearts were glad.-
But O alas! my sire! an infant's hushi
For peace and calm, chang'd to a feverish storm!
Thy teeth are set, hands clench'd, and eyelids burst
The closed lids, and moisture bathes thy brow:
I'll wake thee from this strange and perilous swoon :
The holiest mind is oft in sleep perplext,
And writhes, the sport of Satan, and his arts.
O night so long and wild! when wilt thou end.
What sounds are those, as if the wreck of all
In heaven and earth were now! Oh is this death
That doth oppress me in the coped grave→
Worm conscience, how-it fangs the viewless soul,
And what is wisdom, but an adder's tooth.
Are these the banks of sorrow, waves of care :
I struggle to recall and know myself-
But in this place of dolour, memory fails.
Draw near my sweet one: O stay blessed presence!
Leave me not lonesome, why dost thou depart?-
Now comfort wakens ;-but yet worse than death:
The valley, and the darksome shade of death,
Strange things that make my very flesh shrink up,
And sights that were not seen, but now blest light
I hail, and hear amaz'd thy cheering voice.
Shame on me! I did think to have escap'd
This life; so master'd by the force of fancy.
'Tis strange in truth, so kindly was thy rest.
That thou in semblance didst but barely live.
As the calm ocean in a summer's smooth,
So like a joyful swoon, or envied death,
But swift a tempest rear'd itself amain,
So sudden; yet they say 'tis often thus,
When the internal frame, so wond'rous form'd,
Fails in its nice machinery obscure;
Some filmy sluice of th' ruby lymph amiss,
Or throbbing art'ry: straight the springs of life
Load and impede, the juices gone awry
In perverse channels, minister to grief:
And the sweet nerve that knew but ease and joy,
Writhes, now susceptible of pain alone.
Linnets. thou snarest; but the ravening wing*
Eluding still thy hand, expatiates wide.
My daughter; when the favour'd soul of man
Sprang from creative power, all in the prime
And youthful season of the world's first age,
The faculties were sweetly tun'd, and held
Accord † and compact with the choir divine.
A noble friendship was begun with heaven,
Thought answer'd thought sublime, and wish met wish,
In union consummate, harmonious blent.
Duty was pleasure, and the will enlarg❜d
At God's command, sped with an eagle's wing.
The conscious spirit exquisitely fram'd
To Paradise's charge, inhaling still
Celestial hope, to new joy wak'd at morn.
But sin intruded, and man's honour'd peace
Abode not, and lewd folly chang'd his heart,
Inherent sin a chief disturber of sleep.
† Eccles. vii. 29.
|