Or Faith with fixed eye, be crown'd above
Did not some clouds obscure the moral world?

I ask of Thee, thou poor oppressed Man, Who friendless feel'st thyself, save when thou turn'st

To the Everlasting Friend-I ask of Thee
Whose actions never have been understood,
Whom falsely fixed blame (attach'd to deeds
Inexplicable, save to the All-seeing One)
Has led a superficial world to cast
Among its vile dishonourable things;-

I ask of thee, whether the darkest hour
Of man's rejection, has not brought a boon
Thou prizest more than worlds.-Thou lovedst
all;

And perhaps thou lovedst ONE, a fellow being,
Better than life itself;—thou hadst a soul
Of deepest, tenderest feeling;-yet for thee
There was a fix'd and secret interdict
Inwoven in the mystery of thy fate,
Which blasted all thy promises of joy!
It seem'd that thou wert guilty-'twas not so!
Thou wert what proud men call unfortunate !—
I ask of thee again, oppressed man,

If this withdrawing of all goodly things,

All the desirable blessings of the earth,
Has not more wrought in thee; more solid peace,
More quiet joy, and heavenly grace, produc'd,
Than aught a smiling providence could give?

And these resources which we ne'er foresee, But which experience, sanctified by Heaven, Holds it most safe to trust, this evil spirit Would utterly destroy; impatient ever Of present ill; and ne'er from pious faith Trusting that all things tend to happiness.This evil spirit misnamed LibertyLicentiousness 'mong wise men deem'd, and call'd By angels blasphemy; rejects a God Not seeing as man sees; who sets at nought All earthly wisdom, and of smallest things Works mighty marvels of stupendous power!

But heed not, Countrymen, the bleating Wolf! Humble yourselves before the God of Heaven, Remembering still that Liberty ne'er comes Where more of wishes, more of lusts intrude Than human skill has power to gratify! That liberty comes not with laws relax'd; With troublous opposition, and with rude And boisterous promise: that futurity,

Blest with the flush of prosperous event,
And grac'd with revel joys, shall put to shame
The pale experience. Rather, Liberty,
Thou liv'st with social confidence and peace!
Where, reasoning from the unfallacious past,
We trust with sweet and sober certainty
The issue of the meditated deed.-

Or rather, Liberty, thou lov'st to dwell
Where personal honour, not defined rules;
Where manly generosity, and pride

That shrinks from every stain; not civic laws
That force us to be free, till Freedom's self
Becomes a galling servitude ;-are found!

Then bow yourselves, my Countrymen, and

own,

That, in a world where voluntary slaves
Exist by millions-wretched slaves to vice-
That, in a world where victims to the sword,
Famine, and pestilence, are swept away
As summer insects by an eastern blast,—
That, in a world like this-you're BLEST and
FREE!

LINES

TO A BROTHER AND SISTER,

Written soon after a Recovery from Sickness.

6th April, 1799.

'Tis surely hard, the melancholy day

To waste without the cheering voice of friend: To see the morning dart its golden ray,

To see the night in misty dews descend, Nor catch one sound where Love and Meekness blend.

'Tis surely hard for him who knows how dear A kindred soul, eternally to send

A fruitless prayer for smiles and words that

cheer,

The wish in looks revealed and rapture's holy tear,

II.

Him whom the spirit of attachment warms, The nameless thrilling and the soft desire: Him whom the glance of melting beauty charms, young allurement and its living fire;

Its

For him in tedious languor to expire, Dreaming of bliss, yet wake to deep despair; Fitted for love, of every joy the sire,

To drag a life of unrequited care,

For him, such silent woe, 'tis surely hard to bear.

III.

Thank Heaven, such lot hath never yet been

mine,

For if the gloom of discontent should fall, And my young spirit for a season pine, I cannot, save with gratitude, recall Gay-painted hours of dancing festival, When new and joyous friendships bore away All fears of what in future might befall, All recollections of uncheer'd dismay, Giving to full content the heartsome holiday.

IV.

And still (with pride my heart the truth reveals) Beneath my quiet and paternal roof,

Mine eyes for ever meet the look that heals

Pale Sorrow's anguish with a kind reproof.