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And happiness too swiftly flies?
100 T. GRAY,
HYMN TO ADVERSITY
Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
The bad affright, afflict the best !
And purple tyrants vainly groan
10 To thee he gave the heavenly birth
And bade to form her infant mind. Stern, rugged Nurse ! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore :
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, 15 And from her own she learn’d to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
And leave us leisure to be good.
By vain Prosperity received,
25 Immersed in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend :
Dread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
35 Nor circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen) With thundering voice, and threatening mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty : Thy form benign, O Goddess, wear,
41 Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there
To soften, not to wound my heart. The generous spark extinct revive,
45 Teach me to love and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a Man.
THE SOLITUDE OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK
I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute ;
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Than reign in this horrible place.
10 Never hear the sweet music of speech ;
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see ; They are so unacquainted with man, 15
Their tameness is shocking to me. Society, friendship, and love
Divinely bestow'd upon man, O had I the wings of a dove
soon would I taste you again ! 20 My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. Ye winds that have made me your sport, 25
Convey to this desolate shore
Of a land I shall visit no more :
30 O tell me I yet ve a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind !
Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind,
35 And the swift-wingéd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land
In a moment I seem to be there ; But, alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
40 But the seafowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair ; Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair. There is mercy in every place,
45 And mercy, encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace And reconciles man to his lot.
TO MARY UNWIN
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings,
I may record thy worth with honour due,
In verse as musical as thou art true, Verse that immortalizes whom it sings :But thou hast little need. There is a Book
By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, 10 On which the eyes of God not rarely look,
A chronicle of actions just and brightThere all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine ; And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.
TO THE SAME
The twentieth year is well-nigh past
For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil
My Mary 1
45 How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,