Chequer'd variety in all her forms,
Which the vague mind attract and still suspend With sweet perplexity. What are yon towers, The work of labouring man and clumsy art, Seen with the ring-dove's nest-on that tall beech Her pensile house the feather'd artist builds- The rocking winds molest her not; for see, With such due poise the wond'rous fabric's hung, That, like the compass in the bark, it keeps True to itself, and stedfast ev'n in storms. Thou idiot, that assert'st there is no God, View, and be dumb for ever-
Go bid Vitruvius or Palladio yield
The bee his mansion, or the ant her cave- Go call Correggio, or let Titian come
To paint the hawthorn's bloom, or teach the cherry To blush with just vermilion-hence away- Hence, ye profane! for God himself is here. Vain were the' attempt, and impious, to trace Through all his works the' Artificer divine- And though nor shining sun, nor twinkling star, Bedeck'd the crimson curtains of the sky; Though neither vegetable, beast nor bird, Were extant on the surface of this ball,
Nor lurking gem beneath; though the great sea Slept in profound stagnation, and the air Had left no thunder to pronounce its Maker; Yet man at home, within himself, might find The Deity immense, and in that frame So fearfully, so wonderfully made,
See and adore his providence and power
see, and I adore-O God most bounteous!
O Infinite of Goodness and of Glory!
The knee that thou hast shap'd, shall bend to thee, The tongue which thou hast tun'd shall chant thy praise,
And thy own image, the immortal soul, Shall consecrate herself to thee forever.
OMNISCIENCE OF THE SUPREME
(ADDRESSED TO THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.)
ARISE, divine Urania, with new strains To hymn thy God; and thou, immortal fame, Arise and blow thy everlasting trump. All glory to the' Omniscient, and praise, And power and domination in the height! And thou, cherubic gratitude, whose voice To pious ears sounds silverly so sweet, Come with thy precious incense, bring thy gifts, And with thy choicest stores the altar crown. Thou too, my heart, when He, and He alone, Who all things knows, can know with love replete, Regenerate, and pure, pour all thyself
A living sacrifice before his throne:
And may the' eternal, high mysterious tree, That in the centre of the arched heavens
Bears the rich fruit of knowledge, with some branch Stoop to my humble reach, and bless my toil!
When in my mother's womb conceal'd I lay, A senseless embryo, then my soul thou knew'st, Knew'st all her future workings, every thought, D d
And every faint idea yet unform'd. When up the imperceptible ascent
Of growing years, led by thy hand I rose, Perception's gradual light that ever dawns Insensibly to day, thou didst vouchsafe, And teach me by that reason thou inspir'dst, That what of knowledge in my mind was low, Imperfect, incorrect-in thee is wondrous, Uncircumscrib'd, unsearchably profound, And estimable solely by itself.
What is that secret power, that guides the brutes, Which ignorance calls instinct? 'Tis from thee, It is the operation of thine hands,
Immediate, instantaneous; 'tis thy wisdom,
That glorious shines transparent through thy works. Who taught the pie, or who forewarn❜d the jay To shun the deadly nightshade? though the cherry Boasts not a glossier hue, nor does the plum Lure with more seeming sweets the amorous eye; Yet will not the sagacious birds, decoy'd By fair appearance, touch the noxious fruit. They know to taste is fatal, whence alarm'd Swift on the winnowing winds they work their way. Go to, proud reasoner, philosophic man, [No. Hast thou such prudence, thou such knowledge?— Full many a race has fall'n into the snare Of meretricious looks, of pleasing surface, And oft in desert isles the famish'd pilgrim, By forms of fruit and luscious taste beguil❜d, Like his forefather Adam, eats and dies. For why his wisdom on the leaden feet Of slow experience, dully tedious, creeps, And comes like vengeance, after long delay, The venerable sage that nightly trims
The learned lamp, to' investigate the powers Of plants medicinal, the earth, the air,
And the dark regions of the fossil world,
Grows old in following what he ne'er shall find; Studious in vain! till haply, at the last
He spies a mist, then shapes it into mountains, And baseless fabric from conjecture builds. While the domestic animal, that guards At midnight hours his threshold, if oppress'd By sudden sickness at his master's feet Begs not that aid his services might claim, But is his own physician, knows the case, And from the' emetic herbage works his cure. Hark from afar the feather'd matron" screams, And all her brood alarms; the docile crew Accept the signal one and all, expert
In the' art of nature and unlearn'd deceit : Along the sod, in counterfeited death, Mute, motionless they lie; full well appris'd That the rapacious adversary's near.
But who inform'd her of the approaching danger, Who taught the cautious mother, that the hawk Was hatch'd her foe, and liv'd by her destruction? Her own prophetic soul is active in her, And more than human providence her guard. When Philomela, ere the cold domain Of crippled winter 'gins to' advance, prepares Her annual flight, and in some poplar shade Takes her melodious leave, who then's her pilot? Who points her passage through the pathless void To realms from us remote, to us unknown? Her science is the science of her God. Not the magnetic index to the north
E'er ascertains her course, nor buoy, nor beacon; She, heaven-taught voyager, that sails in air, Courts nor coy west nor east, but instant knows What Newton, or nought sought, or sought in vain.* Illustrious name, irrefragable proof
Of man's vast genius, and the soaring soul! Yet what wert thou to him, who knew his works, Before creation form'd them, long before He measured in the hollow of his hand
The' exulting ocean, and the highest heavens He comprehended with a span, and weigh'd The mighty mountains in his golden scales: Who shone supreme; who was himself the light, Ere yet refraction learn'd her skill to paint, And bend athwart the clouds her beauteous bow? When knowledge at her father's dread command Resign'd to Israel's king her golden key, Oh, to have join'd the frequent auditors In wonder and delight, that whilom heard Great Solomon descanting on the brutes! Oh, how sublimely glorious to apply To God's own honour, and good will to man, That wisdom he alone of men possess'd In plentitude so rich, and scope so rare! How did he rouse the pamper'd silken sons Of bloated ease, by placing to their view The sage industrious ant, the wisest insect, And best economist of all the field! Though she presumes not by the solar orb To measure times and seasons, nor consults Chaldean calculations, for a guide:
Yet conscious that December's on the march, Pointing with icy hand to want and woe,
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