IM'.M - .-. UC-NRLF SB Ibl 171 MONODY ON MAJOR ANB1RJS. BY MISS SEWARD. MISS SEWA1UTS ON MAJOR AN.DRE; AND ELEGY ON CAPTAIN COOK. ALSO MR. PRATT'S SYMPATHY. A POEM. TENTH EDITION. LONDON; PRINTED FOR LONGMAN HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN; j. OTRIDGE; TAYLOR AND HESSEY; RODWELLAND MARTIN; T. AND G. UNDERWOOD; R.JENNINGS-, HAILES; AND J. HARPER. 1817. Hackham, Prater, ON MAJOR JLrfOUD howls the storm ! the vex'd Atlantic roars ! Thy Genius, Britain, wanders on its shores! Hears cries of horror wafted from afar, And groans of anguish, 'mid the shrieks of war ! Hears the deep curses of the Great and Brave, Sigh in the wind, and murmur on the wave ! O'er his damp hrow the sable crape he hinds, And throws his * victor-garland to the winds; * Victor-garland '. Alluding to the conquest jby kord Coniwallis. B 2; aggari Winter, in her drear sojourn, Teat h<* dim jfol&ge'froih her drizzling urn, With sickly yew unfragrant cypress twine, And hang the dusky wreath round honor's shrine . Bids steel-clad valour chace his dove-like bride, Enfeehling mercy, from his awful side ; Where long she sat, and checked the ardent rein, As whirled his chariot o'er th ? embattled plain; Gilded with sunny smile her April tear, Rais'd her white arm and stayed the uplifted spear ; [car, Then, in her place, bids vengeance mount the And glut with gore th 5 insatiate dogs of war ! With one pale hand the tbloody scroll he rears, And bids his nations blot it with their tears ; And one, extended o'er th j Atlantic wave, Points to his Andre's ignominious grave ! t 'Bloody Scroll. The Court-Martial decree, signed at Tappan, for Major Andre's execution. MONODY. 3 And shall the Muse, that marks the solemn scene, " As busy fancy lifts the veil between," Refuse to mingle in the awful train. Nor breathe with glowing zeal the votive strain ? From public fame shall admiration fire The boldest numbers of her raptur'd lyre To hymn a stranger ? And with ardent lay Lead the wild mourner round her Cook's morai, While Andre fades upon his dreary bier. And * Julia's only tribute is her tear ? Dear, lovely youth ! whose gentle virtues stole Thro' friendship's softening medium on her soul ! Ah no ! with every strong resistless plea, Rise the recorded days she pass'd with thee ; While each dim shadow of overwhelming years ? With eagle-glance reverted, memory clears. * Julia- The name by which Mr. Andre addressed the Author in his correspondence with her. 4 SEWARD'S Belov'd companion of the fairest hours That rose for her in joy's resplendent bow'rs, How gaily shone on thy bright morn of youth The Star of Pleasure, and the Sun of Truth ! Full from their source descended on thy mind Each generous virtue, and each taste refin'd. Young Genius led thee to his varied fane, Bade thee ask tall his gifts, nor ask in vain ; Hence novel thoughts, in ev'ry lustre drest Of pointed wit, that diamond of the breast ; Hence glow'd thy fancy with poetic ray, Hence music warbled in thy sprightly lay ; And hence thy pencil, with his colours warm, Caught ev'ry grace, and copied ev'ry charm, ^ Alt his gifts. Mr. Andre bad conspicuous talents for Poetry, Music, and Painting. The news-papers mentioned a satiric poem of his upon the Americans, \vhich was supposed to have stimulated their barbarity towards him. Of his wit and vivacity, the letters subjoined to this work afford ample proof. They were addressed to the Author by Mr. Andre when he was a youth of eighteen. MONODY. 5 Whose transient gloriesbeam on beauty's cheek. And bid the glowing ivory breathe and speak. Blest pencil ! by kind fate ordained to save Honora's semblance from her Dearly grave. Oh ! while on t Julia's arm it sweetly smiles, And each lorn thought, each long regret be- guiles, [spell, Fondly she weeps the hand, w T hich form'd the Now shroudless mouldering in its earthy cell ! But sure the youth, whose ill-starr'd passion With all the pangs of inauspicious love, [strove * Early grave. Miss Honora S , to whom Mr. Andre's attachment was of such singular constancy, died in a consumption a few months before he suffered death at Tappan. She had married another gentleman four years after her engagement with Mr. Andre had been dissolved by parental authority. t Julia's arm. Mr. Andre drew two miniature pic- tures 6f Miss Honora S on his first acquaintance with her at Buxton, in the year 1769* one for himself, the other for the author of this poem. BS 6 SEWARD'S Full oft deplor'd the fatal art that stole The jocund freedom of its master's soul. While with nice hand he marked the living grace, And matchless sweetness of Honora's face, TV enamour'd youth the faithful traces blest. That barb'd the dart of beauty in his hreast ; Around his neck th ? enchanting Portrait hung, While a warm vow hurst ardent from his tongue. That from his hosom no succeeding day. No chance should bear that talisman away. * 3 Twas thus Apelles bask'd in beauty's blaze, And felt the mischief of the stedfast gaze ; Trac'd with disordered hand Campaspe's charms, And as their beams the kindling canvas warms, *'Twasthus Apelles. Prior is very elegant upon this circumstance in an Ode to his friend, Mr. How- ard, the Painter. MONODY. 7 Triumphant love, with still superior art. Engraves their wonders on the Painter's heart. Dear lost companion ! ever constant youth ! That Fate had smil'd propitious on thy truth ! Nor bound th' ensanguin'd laurel on that brow Where Love ordain'd his brightest wreath to glow ! Then Peace had led thee to her softest bow'rs, And Hymen strew'd thy path with all his flow'rs, Drawn to thy roof, by friendship's silver cord. Each social joy had brighten'd at thy board ; Science and soft Affection's blended rays Had shone unclouded on thy lengthen'd days ; From hour to hour, thy taste, with conscious pride, Had marked new talents in thy lovely bride ; Till thou hadst own'd the magic of her face Thy fair Honora's least engaging grace. Dear lost Honora ! o'er thy early bier Sorrowing the Muse still sheds her sacred tear ! B 4 8 SEWARD'S The blushing rose-bud in its vernal bed, By Zephyrs fann'd, by glistering dew-drops fed. In June's gay morn that scents the ambient air, Was not more sweet, more innocent, or fair. Oh ! when such Pairs their kindred spirit find, When sense and virtue deck each spotless mind, Hard is the doom that shall the union break, And Fate's dark billow rises o'er the wreck. Now Prudence, in her cold and thrifty care, Frown'd on the maid, and bade the youth de- spair For pow'r parental sternly saw, and strove To tear the lily-bands of plighted love ; Nor strove in vain ; but while the fair one's Disperse, like April storms in sunny skies, [sighs The firmer lover, with unswerving truth, To his first passion consecrates his youth ; Tho' four long years a night of absence prove, Yet hope's soft star shone trembling on his love; MONODY. 9 Till thov'ring rumour chas'd the pleasing dream. And veil'd, with raven -wing, the silver beam. " Honora lost ! my happy rival's bride ! Swell ye full sails ! and roll thou mighty tide ! O'er the dark waves forsaken Andre bear Amid the vollying thunders of the war ! To win bright glory from my country's foes, E'en in this ice of Love, my bosom glows. Voluptuous London ! in whose gorgeous bow'rs The frolic pleasures lead the dancing hours, From Orient- vales Sabean-odours bring, Nor ask her roses of the tardy Spring ; Where Painting burns the Grecian meed to claim, Froni the high Temple of immortal Fame, t flooring rumour. The tidings of flonora's mar- riage. Upon that event, Mr. Andre quitted his profes- sion as a merchant, and joined our Army in America. 10 SEWABD'S Bears to the radiant goal with ardent pace. Her Kauffman's beauty, and her Reynold's grace ; Where Music floats the glittering roofs among. And with meandering cadence swells the song, While sun-clad Poesy the bard inspires, And foils the Grecian Harps, the Latin Lyres. " Ye soft'ning luxuries ! ye polish'd arts ! Bend your enfeebling rays on tranquil hearts ! I quit the Song, the Pencil, and the Lyre, White robes of Peace, and Pleasure's soft attire, To seize the Sword, to mount the rapid Car, In all the proud habiliments of war. Honora lost! I woo a sterner bride, The armed Bellona calls me to her side ; Harsh is the music of our marriage strain ! It breathes in thunder from the western plain ! Wide o'er the wat'ry world its echoes roll, And rouse each latent ardour of my soul. MONODY. 11 And tho' unlike the soft melodious lay. That gaily wak'd Honora's nuptial day, Its deeper tones shall whisper, e'er they cease, More genuine transport, and more lasting peace ! " Resolved I go ! no from that fatal bourn To these gay scenes, shall Andre's step return ! Set is the star of love, that ought to guide His refluent bark across the mighty tide ! But while my country's foes, with impious hand, Hurl o'er the blasted plains the livid brand Of dire Sedition ! Oh ! let Heav'n ordain While Andre lives ! he may not live in vain ! " Yet without one kind farewell, cou'd I roam Far from my weeping friends, my peaceful home, The best affections of my heart must cease. And gratitude be lost, with hope, and peace ! 12 SEWARD'S " My lovely sisters ! who were wont to twine Your souls' soft feeling with each wish of mine, Shall., when this breast beats high at glory 's call. From your mild eyes the show'rs of sorrow fall ? The light of excellence, that round you glows, Decks with reflected beam your brother's brows! Oh ! may his fame, in some distinguished day, Pour on that excellence the brightest ray ! cc Dim clouds of woe ! ye veil each sprightly grace That us'd to sparkle in Maria's face. My ^tuneful Anna to her lute complains^ But griefs fond throbs arrest the parting strains* Fair as the silver blossom on the thorn, Soft as the spirit of the vernal morn, Louisa, chace those trembling fears, that prove Th' ungovern'd terrors of a sister's love. * Tuneful Anna. Miss Anne Andre has a poetical talent. MONODY. 13 They bend thy sweet head, like yon lucid flow'r, That shrinks and fades beneath the Summer's show'r. a Oh ! smile, my sisters, on this destined day, And with the radiant omen gild my way ! And thou, my brother, gentle as the gale. Whose breath perfumes anew the blossomed Yet quick of spirit, as th 3 electric beam, [vale, When from the clouds its darting lightnings stream, Soothe with incessant care our mother's woes, And hush her anxious sighs to soft repose. And be ye sure, when distant far I stray To share the dangers of the arduous day. Your tender faithful amity shall rest The "*last dear record of my grateful breast. * Last dear record. " I have a mother and three sisters, to whom the value of my commission would be an object, as the loss of Grenada has much affected their jncpme. It is needless to be more explicit on 14 SEWAKD'S " Oh ! graceful priestess at the fane of truth , Friend of my soul ! and guardian of my youth ! Skill'd to convert the duty to the choice, My gentle mother ! in whose melting voice The virtuous precept, that perpetual flow'd, With music warbled, and with beauty glow'd. Thy tears ! ah Heav'n ! not drops of molten lead, Pour'd on thy hapless son's devoted head, With keener smart had each sensation torn ! They wake the nerve where agonies are born ! But oh ! restrain me not ! thy tender strife. What wou'd it save ? alas ! thy Andre's life ! Oh ! what a weary pilgrimage 'twill prove Strew'd with the thorns of disappointed love ! Ne'er can he break the charm, whose fond con- By habit rooted, lo? ds it o'er his soul, [Irol, this subject, I know your excellency's goodness/' See Major Andres last letter to General Clinton, pub- lished in the Gazette. MONODY. 15 If here he languish in inglorious ease. Where science palls, and pleasures cease to 'Tis Glory only, with her potent ray, [please. Can chace the clouds that darken all his way. Then dry those pearly drops that wildly flow, Nor snatch the laurel from my youthful brow ! The Rebel-standard blazes to the noon ! And glory's path is bright before thy Son ! Then join thy voice ! and thou with Heav'n ordain, While Andre lives, he may not live in vain ! " He says and sighing seeks the busy strand, Where anchored navies wait the wish'd com- To the full gale the nearer billows roar, [mancl . And proudly lash the circumscribing shore ; While furious on the craggy coast they rave, All calm and lovely rolls the distant wave ; For onward, as th* unbounded waters spread} Deep sink the rocks in their capacious bed, 16 SEWARD'S And all their pointed terrors utmost force But gently interrupts the billows' course. So on his present hour rude passion preys ! So smooth the prospect of his future days ! Unconscious of the storm, that grimly sleeps, To wreck its fury on th' unsheltered deeps ! Now yielding waves divide before the prow, The white sails bend, the streaming pennants glow; And swiftly waft him to the western plain, Where fierce Bellona rages o'er the slain. Firm in their strength opposing legions stand. Prepared to drench with blood the thirsty land, Now Carnage hurls her flaming bolts afar, And Desolation groans amid the war. As bleed the valiant, and the mighty yield, Death stalks, the only victor, o'er the field, MONODY. 17 Foremost in all the horrors of the day. Impetuous * Andre leads the glorious way ; Till, rashly bold, by numbers forc'd to yield, They drag him captive from the long-fought field. - Around the hero croud th 5 exulting bands, And seize the spoils of war with bloody hands ; Snatch the dark plumage from his awful crest, And tear the golden crescent from his breast ; The sword, the tube that wings the death from And ail the fatal implements of war ! [far, Silent, unmoved, the gallant youth surveyed The lavish spoils triumphant ruffians made. * Impetuous Andre. It is in this passage only, that fiction has been employed through the narrative of the poem. Mr. Andre was a prisoner in America, soon after his' arrival there, but the Author is unacquainted with the chcuaistances of the action in which he was taken. 18 SEWARD'S The idle ornament, the useless spear He little recks., but oh ! there is a fear Pants with quick throb, while yearning sorrows dart Thro' his chill frame, and tremble at his heart. And a hobbling out of breath gait, and a frown, J This little French cousin of ours, Delarise, was my sister Mary's play-fellow at Paris. His sprightliness engages my sisters extremely. Doubtless they talk much -of him to you in their letters. How sorry I am to bid you adieu ! Oh let me not be forgot by the friends most dear to you at Lichfield ! "Lichfield! Ah ! of what magic letters is that little word composed ! How graceful it looks when it is written! Let nobody talk to me of its original meaning, *" The * Field of blood. Here is a small mistake. Lichfield is not the field of blood, but " the field of dead bodies," alluding to a battle fought between the Romans and the British Christians, in the Diocleslan Persecution, when the latter were massacred. Three slain kings, with their bury ing-place, now Barrowcop-hill, and the Cathedral in miniature, form the City Arms. LICHIS still a word in use. The Church-yard Gates, through which fu~ tterals pass, are often called Lich-gates, vulgarly Light-gates. LETTERS. 45 field of blood I" Oh ! no such thing ! It is the field of joy ! " The beautiful City, that lifts her fair head in the valley, and says, I am, and there is none beside me r Who says she is vain ? Julia will not say so nor yet Honora- and least of all, their devoted JOHN ANDRE. 46 LETTEKS. JLETTEH III. Clapton, November 1, 1769. .i\JLY ears still ring with the sounds of Oh Jack ! Oh Jack ! How do the dear Lichfieldians ? What do they say? What are they about? What did J/OM do while you were with them? Have patience, said I, good people ! and began my story, which they de- voured with as muck joyful avidity, as Adam did Gabriel's tidings of heaven. My mother and sisters are all very well, and delighted with their little French- man, who is a very agreeable lad. Surely you applaud the fortitude with which 1 left you ! Did I not come off with flying colours? It was a great effort, for, alas ! this recreant heart did not se- cond the smiling courage of the countenance ; nor is it yet as it ought to be, from the hopes it may reasonably LETTERS. 47 entertain of seeing you all again, ere the winter's dreary hours are past. Julia, my dear Julia, gild them with tidings of our beloved Honora ! Oh that you may be enabled to tell me, that she regains her health and her charming vivacity ! Your sympathizing heart par- takes all the joys and pains of your friend?. Never can I forget its kind offices, which were of such mo- ment to my peace! Mine is formed for friendship, and I am blest in being able to place so well the purest passion of an ingenuous mind ! How ami honored in Mr. and Mrs. Seward's attachment to me ! Charm- ing were the anticipations which beguiled the long tracts of hill and dale, and plain, that divide London from Lichfield ! With what delight my eager eyes drank the first view of the dear spires ! What rapture did I not feel on entering your gates ! in flying up the hall steps ! in rushing into the dining room ! iti meeting the gladdened ejes of dear Julia and her en- chanting friend ! That instant convinced me of the truth of Rousseau's observation, " that there are mo- ments worth ages." Shall not those moments return ' Ah Julia ! the cold hand of absence is heavy upon the heart of your poor Cher Jean. He is forced to hammer 48 LETTERS, into it perpetually, every consoling argument that the magic wand of hope can conjure up; viz. that every moment of industrious absence advances his journey, you know whither. I may sometimes make excursions to Lichfield, and bask in the light of my Honora's eyes! Sustain me hope! nothing on my part shall be wanting which may induce thee to fulfil thy blos- soming promises. The happy social circle, Julia, Honora, Miss S n, Miss B n, her brother, Mr. S e, Mr. R n, &c. &c. are now, perhaps, enlivening your dressing room, the dear blueregion* as Honora calls it, with tlie sensible observation, the tasteful criticism, or the ele- gant song-, dreading the iron-tongue of the nine- o'clock bell, which disperses the beings, whom friend- ship and kindred virtues have drawn together, My imagination attaches itself to all t even the inanimate objects which surround Honora and her Julia i that have beheld their graces and virtues expand and ripen ; my dear Honora's from their infant bud. LETTERS. 49 The sleepy Claptonian train are gone to bed, some- what wearied with their excursion to Enfield, whither they have this day carried their favorite little French- man j so great a favorite, the parting was quite tragical. I walked hither from town, as usual, to night no hour of the twenty-four is so precious to me as that devoted to this solitary walk. Oh, my Friend ! I am far from possessing the patient frame of mind which I so conti- nually invoke 1 Why is Lichfield an hundred anil twenty miles from me ? There is no moderation in the distance! Fifty or sixty miles had been a great deal too much, but then, there would have been less oppo- sition fiom authority to my frequent visits. I conjure you, supply the wants of these blessings by frequent letters. I must not, will not, ask them of Honora, since the use of the pen is forbid to her declining health; 1 will content myself, as usual, with a postscript from her in your epistles. My sisters are charmed with the packet which arrived yesterday, and which they will answer soon. As yet I have said nothing of our journey. We met an entertaining Irish gentlemen at Dunchurcb, and, F 50 LETTERS. being fellow-sufferers in cold and hunger, joined inter- ests, ordered four horses, and stuffed three in a chaise. It is not to you, I need apologize for talking in raptures of a Higler whom we met on our road. His cart had passed us, and was at a considerable distance, when, looking back, he perceived that our chaise had stopped, and that the Driver seeded mending something. He ran up to him, and with a face full of honest anxiety, pity, good-nature, and every sweet affection under Heaven, asked him if we wanted any thing; that he had plenty of nails, ropes, &c. in his cart. That wietch of a Postillion made no other reply than, " We want nothing master." From the same impulse, the good Irishman, Mr. Till, and myself, thrust our heads in- stantly out of the chaise, and tried to recompence to the honest creature this surly reply, by every kind and grateful acknowledgment, and by forcing upon him a little pecuniary tribute. My benevolence will be the "warmer, while I live, for the treasured remembrance of this Higler's countenance. I know you interest yourself in my destiny. I have now completely subdued my aversion to the profession LETTERS. 51 of a Merchant, and hope in time to acquire an inclina- tion for it Yet, God forbid I should ever love what f am to make the object of my attention ! that vile trash, which I care not for, but only as it may be the future means of procuring the blessing of my soul. Thus all my mercantile calculations go to the tune of dear Ho- nora. When an impertinent consciousness whispers in my ear, that I am not of the right stuff for a merchant, I draw my Honora's picture from my bosom, and the sight of that dear talisman so inspirits my industry, that no toil appears oppressive. The poetic task you sjet me is in a sad method my head and heart are too full of other matters to be en- grossed by a draggle-tailed wench of the Heliconian puddle. I am going to try my interest in Parliament How you stare ! it is to procure a frank. Be so good to give the enclosed toHonora; it will speak to her and do you say every thing that is kind for me to every other distinguished friend of the dressing room circle en- courage them in their obliging desire of scribbling in F 2 52 LETTERS. your letters, but do not let them take Honora's corner of the sheet. Adieu! May you all possess that cheerfulness denied to your Cher Jean. I fear it hurts my mother to see my musing moods but I can neither help nor over- come them. The near hopes of another excursion to Lichfield, could alone disperse every gloomy vapour of my imagination. Again, and yet again adieu I JOHN ANDRE. ELEGY ON CAPTAIN COOK. TO WHICH IS ADDED to ttje &tm BY MISS SEWARD. THE THIRD EDITION. ELEGY CAPTAIN COOK. oR ROWING , the Nine beneath yon blasted Shed the bright drops of Pity's holy dew ; [yew Mute are their tuneful tongues, extinct their fires; Yet not in silence sleep their silver lyres ; To the bleak gale they vibrate sad and slow, In deep accordance to a nation's woe. Ye 5 who ere while for COOK'S illustrious brow Pluck'd the green laurel, and the oaken boughj F4 56 SEWARD'S Hung the gay garlands on the trophied oars, And pour'd his fame along a thousand shores. Strike the slow death-bell ! weave the sacred verse, And strew the cypress o'er his honor'd hearse; In sad procession wander round the shrine. And weep him mortal, whom ye sung divine ! Say first, what Pow'r inspired his dauntles* breast With scorn of danger, and inglorious rest. To quit imperial London's gorgeous plains, Where, rob'd in thousand tints, bright Pleasure reigns; In cups of summer-ice her nectar pours, [bow'rs? And twines, 'mid wint'ry snows, her roseate Where beauty moves with undulating grace, Calls the sweet blush to wanton o'er her face, On each fond youth her soft artillery tries, Aims her light smile, and rolls her frolic eyes ? ELEGY. 57 What Pow'r inspired his dauntless breast to brave The scorch'd Equator, and th' Antarctic wave ? Climes, where fierce suns in cloudless ardor* shine, And pour the dazzling deluge round the line ; The realms of frost, where icy mountains rise, ? Mid the pale summer of the polar skies ? IT WAS HUMANITY! on coasts unknown. The shivering natives of the frozen zone, And the swart Indian, as he faintly strays " Where Cancer reddens in the solar blaze," She bade him seek ; on each inclement shore Plant the rich seeds of her exhaustless store ; Unite the savage hearts and hostile hands, f n the firm compact of her gentle bands, Strew her soft comforts o'er the barren plain, Sing her sweet lays, and consecrate her fane* 58 SEWARD'S. IT WAS HUMANITY ! O nymph divine ! I see thy light step print the burning line ! There thy bright eye the dubious pilot guides. The faint oar struggling with the scalding tides On as thou lead'st the bold, the glorious prow. Mild, and more mild, the sloping sun-beam* glow, Now weak and pale the lessened lustres play, As round th 3 horizon rolls the timid day ; Barb'd with the sleeted snow, the driving hail. Rush the fierce arrows of the polar gale; And thro 5 the dim, unvaried, lingering hours, Wide o'er the wave, incumbent horror low'rs, From the rude summit of yon frozen steep, Contrasting glory gilds the dreary deep ! [^race, Lo ! decked with vermeil youth and beamy Hope in her step, and gladness in her face, Light on the icy rock, with out-stretched hands, The Goddess of the new Columbus stands* ELEGY 59 Round her bright head, the plumy *Peterels soar, Blue as her robe, that sweeps the frozen shore ; Glows her soft cheek, as vernal mornings fair, And warm as summer suns her golden hair; O'er the hoar waste her radiant glances stream, And courage kindles in their magic beam. She points the ship its mazy path, to thread t The floating fragments of the frozen bed, * Peter eh $00r, The pcterel is a bird found in the frozen seas; its neck and tail are white, and its wings of a bright blue. t The floating fragments. " In the course of the last twenty-four hours, we passed through several fields of broken ice; they were in general narrow, but of considerable extent. In one part the pieces of ice were so close, that the ship had much difficulty to thread them." 60 SEWARD'S. While o'er the deep, in many a dreadful form, The giant Danger howls along the storm. Furling the * iron sails with numbed hands, Firm on the deck the great adventurer stands ; Round glittering mountains hears the billow r i rave. And the t vast ruin thunder o'er the wave. AppalFd he hears ! but checks the rising sigh. And turns on his firm band a glistening eye. Not for himself the sighs unbidden break, Amid the terrors of the icy wreck ; Not for himself starts the impassioned tear. Congealing as it falls ; nor pain, nor fear, * Furling the iron sails. " Our sails and rigging were so frozen, that they seemed plates of iron." t And the vast ruin. The breaking of one of these immense mountains of ice, and the prodigious noise it made, is particularly described in Cook's second voy- .age to the south pole. ELEGY. 61 Nor Death's dread darts, impede the great design, * 'Till Nature draws the circumscribing line. Huge rocks of ice th r arrested ship embay. And bar the gallant wanderer's dangerous way, His eye regretful marks the goddess turn TV assiduous prow from its relentless bourn r And now antarctic Zealand's drear domain Frowns and o'erhangs th' inhospitable main. On its chill beach this dove of human -kind For his long-wandering foot short rest shall find, Bear to the coast t the olive-branch in vain, And quit on wearied wing the hostile plain. *'Till Nature. * After running four leagues this course, with the ice on our starboard side, we found ourselves quite embayed, the ice extending from north-north-east, round by the west and south to east, in one compact body ; the weather was tolerably clear, yet we could see no end to it." t The olive- branch. " To carry a green branch in the hand on landing, is a pacific signal, universally understood by all the islanders in the South Seas." 62 SEWARD'S With jealous low'r the frowning natives view The stately vessel, and th'ad venturous crew ; Nor fear the brave, nor emulate the good, But scowl with savage thirst of human blood ! And yet there were, who in this iron clime SoarM o'er the herd on virtue's wing sublime ; Rever'd the stranger-guest, and smiling strove To soothe his stay with hospitable love ; Fann'd in full confidence the friendly flame. Joined plighted hands, and * name exchang'd for name. To these the hero leads t his living store, And pours new wonders on th'uncultur ? d shore ; * And name exchanged. The exchange of names is a pledge of amity among these islanders, and was frequently proposed by them to Captain Cook and his people ; so also is the joining noses. t His living store Captain Cook left various kinds of animals upon this coast, together with gardem- ELEGY. 03 The silky fleece, fair fruit, and golden grain ; And future herds and harvests bless the plain. O'er the green soil his kids exulting play, And sounds his clarion loud the bird of day ; The downy goose her ruffled bosom laves. Trims her white wing, and wantons in the waves, Stern moves the bull along th'affrighted shores, And countless nations tremble as he roars. So when the daughter ofeternalJove, And ocean's God, to bless their Athens strove, The massy trident, with gigantic force [horse ; Cleaves the firm earth and gives the stately He paws the ground, impatient of the rein. Shakes his high front, and thunders o'er the plain seeds, &c. The Zeal anders had hitherto subsisted upon fish, and such coarse vegetables as their climate pro- duced 5 and this want of better provision, it is suppos- ed, induced them to the horrid practice of eatiug hu- man flesh. 64 SEWARD'S Then wisdom's Goddess plants the embryon seed, And bids new foliage shade the sultry mead ; *M id the pale green the tawny oh" ves shine, And famished thousands bless the hand divine. Now the warm solstice o'er the shinin Darts from the north its mild meridian ray ; Again the chief invokes the rising gale, And spreads again in desart seas the sail ; O'er dangerous shoals his steady steerage keeps, O'er * walls of coral, ambush'd in the deeps ; * Walls of coral. The coral rocks are described as rising perpendicularly from the greatest depths of the ocean, insomuch that the sounding-line could not reach their bottom ; and yet they were but just covered with water. These rocks are now found to be fabri- cated by sea-insects. ELEGY. 65 Strong Labour's hands the crackling cordage twine, [line. And * sleepless Patience heaves the sounding On a lone beach a 1* rock -built temple stands. Stupendous pile ! unwrought by mortal hands ; Sublime the ponderous turrets rise in air, And the wide roof basaltic columns bear ; Thro 5 the long aisles the murm'ring tempests blow, And Ocean chides his dashing waves below. From this fair fane, along the silver sands, Two sister-virgins wave their snowy hands; * And sleepless Patience." We had now passed several months with a man constantly in the chain, heaving the lead." \ A rock-built temple. "On one part of this isle there was a solitary rock, rising on the coast with arch- ed cavities, like a majestic temple." Q 66 SEWAllD S First * gentle Flora round her smiling brow Leaves of new forms, and flow'rs uncultur'd glow; Thin folds of 1* vegetable silk, behind. Shade her white neck, and wanton in the wind ; Strange sweets, where'er she turns, perfume the glades, And fruits unnam'd adorn the bending shades. * First sent le Flora. Flora is the Goddess of mo- dern Botany, and Fauna of modern Zoology : hence the pupils of Linnaeus, call their books, Flora Aiiglica Fauna Danica, &c. " The Flora of one of these islands contained thirty new plants." t Vegetable silk. In New Zealand is a flag of which the natives make their nets and cordage. The fi- bres of this vegetable are longer and stronger than our hemp and flax; and some, manufactured in London, is as white and glossy as fine silk. This valuable ve- getable will probably grow in our climate. ELEGY. 67 Next Fauna treads, in youthful beauty's pride, A * playful kangroo bounding by her side ; Around the nymph her beauteous t Pois display.* Their varied plumes, and trill the dulcet lay ; A J giant-bat, with leathern wings outspread. Umbrella light, hangs quivering o'er her head. * A playful kangroo. The kangroo is an animal pe- culiar to those climates. It is perpetually jumping along on its hind legs, its fore legs being too short to be used in the manner of other quadrupeds. t Beauteous Pois. "Thepoi-bird, common in those countries, has feathers of a fine mazarine blue, except those of the neck, which are of a beautiful silver grey, and two or three short white ones, which are in the pinion-joint of the wing. Under its throat hang two little tufts of curled white feathers, called its poies, which, being the Otaheitan word for ear-rings, occa- sioned our giving that name to the bird; which is not more remarkable for the beauty of its plumage, than for the exquisite melody of its note." J A giant-bat. The bats which Captain Cook saw in some of these countries were of incredible dimen- sions, measuring three feet and an half in breadth when their wings were extended. G 2 68 SE WARD'S As o'er the cliff her graceful steps she bends, On glitt'ring wing her insect train attends, With diamond-eye her scaly tribe survey, Their goddess-nymph, and gambol in the spray. With earnest gaze, the still enamoured crew Mark the fair forms; and, as they pass, pursue ; But round the steepy rocks, and dangerous strand, [the land. Rolls * the white surf, and shipwreck guards So, when of old, Sicilian shores along, Enchanting Syrens trilFd th> alluring song, Bound to the mast, the charm'd Ulysses hears^ And drinks the sweet tones with insatiate ears ; * Rolls the white surf. " As we passed this island, many of its trees had an unusual appearance, and the richness of the vegetation, much invited our natural- ists to land; but their earnest wishes were in vain, fiom the dangerous reefs, and the violence of the surfs. " ELEGY. Oy Strains the strong cords, upbraids the prosp 3 - rous gale, And sighs, as Wisdom spreads the flying sail. Now leads HUMANITY the destined way. Where all the Loves in Otaheite stray: To bid the Arts disclose their wond'rous pow'rs., To bid the Virtues consecrate the bow'rs 3 She gives her hero to its blooming plain. Nor has he wander'd, has he bled in vain ! His lips persuasive charm th' uncultured youth ? Teach Wisdom's lore, and point the path of Truth. See ! * chasten'd love in softer glances flows^ See ! with new fires parental duty glows. * Chasten d love. Captain Cook observes in his second voyage, that the women of Otaheite weiegrowa more mo-Jest, and that the barbarous practice of des- troying their children was lessened. GS 70 SEWARD'S Thou smiling Eden of the southern wave, Could not, alas ! thy grateful wishes save That angel-goodness, which had bless'd thy plain 1 Ah ! vain thy gratitude, thy wishes vain ! On a far distant, and remorseless shore. Where human fiends their dire libations pour ; Where treachery hov'ring o'er the blasted heath, Poises, with ghastly smile, the darts of death, Pierc'd by their venom'd points, your favorite bleeds, And on his limbs the lust of hunger feeds ! Thus when, of old, the Muse-born Orpheus bore Fair arts and virtues to the Thracian shore ; Struck with sweet energy the warbling wire, And pour'd persuasion from th' immortal lyre ; ELEGY. 71 As soften'd brutes, the waving woods among, Bow'd their meek heads, and listened to the song; Near, and more near, with rage and tumult loud, Round the bold bard th 5 inebriate maniacs croud. Red on th' ungrateful soil his life-blood swims. And fiends and furies tear his quiv'ring limbs ! Gay Eden of the south, thy tribute pay, And raise, in pomp of woe, thy COOK'S *Morai ! * Moral. The Moral is a kind of funeral altar, which the people ofOtaheite raise to the memory of their deceased friends. They bring to it a daily tribute of fruits, flowers, and the plumage of buds. The chief mourner wanders around it in a state of apparent dis- traction, shrieking furiously, and striking at intervals, a shark's tooth into her head. All people fly her, as she aims at wounding not only herself, but others. G4 72 SEWARD'S Bid mild Omiah bring his choicest stores, The juicy fruits, and the luxuriant flowers; Bring the bright plumes, that drink the torrid And strew each lavish spoil on COOK'S Morai ! Come Oberea, hapless fair one ! come, With piercing shrieks bewail thy hero's doom ! She comes! she gazes round with dire survey ! Oh ! fly the mourner on her frantic way . See ! see ! the pointed ivory wounds that head Where late the Loves impurpl'd roses spread ; Now slain'd with gore, her raven-tresses ilow, In ruthless negligence of mad'aing woe; Loud she laments ! and long the nymph shall stray, With wild unequal step round COOK'S Morai ! But ah ! aloft on Albion's rocky steep, That frowns incumbent o'er the boiling deep, ELEGY. 73 Solicitous and sad, a softer form Eyes the lone flood, arid deprecates the storm. Ill-tated matron ! for, alas ! in vain Thy eager glances wander o'er the main ! 'Tis the vex'd billows, that insurgent rave. Their white tbam silvers yonder distant wave, 'Tis not his sails ! thy husband comes no more ! His bones now whiten an accursed shore ! Retire, for hark ! the sea-gull shrieking soars, The lurid atmosphere portentous low'rs ; Night's sullen spirit groans in ev'ry gale, And o'er the waters draws the darkling veil, Sighs in thy hair., and chills thy throbbing breast. Go, wretched mourner ! weep thy griefs to rest ! Yet, tho' through life is lost each fond delight, Tho' set thy earthly sun in dreary night, Oh ! raise thy thoughts to yonder starry plain, And own thy sorrow selfish, weak, and vain; 74 ELECT. Since, while Britannia, to his virtues just., Twines the bright wreath, and rears th 3 im- mortal bust ; While on each wind of heav'n his fame shall rise. In endless incense to the smiling skies ; THE ATTENDANT POWER, that bade his sails expand, And waft her blessing to each barren land, Now raptur'd bears him to th' immortal plains. Where Mercy hails him with congenial strains, Where soars, on Joy's white plume, his spirit free, And angels choir him, while he waits for THEE. AN ODE TO THE SUN. i. of the Planets! in their course Thro' the long tracts of never-ceasing day, Who to their orbs, with matchless force, Bendest their rapid, wild, reluctant way; Tho' midst the vast and glittering maze Of countless worlds, that round thee blaze > Small, dim, and cold, our little Earth appears^ Thy life-enkindling light she shares: From the chill Pole^ far-sliining mountains frore, To sandy AiVic's sultry shore. 76 SE WARD'S ODE Wide o'er her plains tby living lustre stream, In Lapland's long pale day, and swart Numi- dia's beam. II. For her, with delegated right, Thy virgin -sisler in thy absence shines, Throws her soft robe of snowy light O'er sullen Night's opake and shadowy shrines ; Thy watchful centinel, she reigns Controller of the wat'ry plains, Onward her silver arm the Ocean guides, Or dashes back the impetuous.tides. But thou, on the green wave's capacious bed, Hast light, and life, and gladness shed, Thro' liquid mountains, as they roll, Darting the beauteous beam, the vivifying soul. III. That paints the shell's meand'ring mould, )r spots the twinkling fin with gold; TO THE SUN. 77 That gives the diamond's eye to blaze With all thy bright and arrowy rays. Low in the billowy hold, Where the mighty whales are straying, And the burnish'd dolphins playing. There, with tremulous light, thou charmest Nations basking in thy gleam ; And e'en there thy earth thou warmest With thy mild prolific beam: From the dwarf coral, with his vermeil horns. Or sea-moss, matted round her briny caves, To the broad oak, that Albion's cli Of adorns, And bears her sons triumphant o'er the waves ; Each stem, root, leaf, fair fruit, and flowret bright, Lustre and fragrance drink from thy all-cheering light. IV. Remoy'd from its more ardent ray, In grassy Albion's deep umbrageous vales, 78 SE WARD'S ODE Thou bid'st them bloom in soft array. And breathe sweet incence on her vernal gales. Thy red Morn blushes on her shores. And liquid gems profusely pours ; Thy gay Noon glows with unoppressive beams, And glitters on her winding streams ; Thy modest Evening draws the deepening shades O'er her green hills, and bowery glades. Till the fair Months, with laded charms, Shrink in the chilly grasp of Winter's icy arms. V. But this highly-favoured year, From tiiee with gifts peculiar sprung ; At thy command Autumna fair Her golden vest o'er shiv'ring Whiter flung ; And bid him his pale lingering Lours Gaily deck \vith fragrant Uow'rs; For his Lc?\r trow matured the Violet wreath,, From his wan lip bid Pleasure breathe; TO THE SUN. 79 No more he blasts the plain, or warps the tide, But throw his iron rod aside, His softened gale serenely blows, Till with Italians charms hybernal Albion glows. VI. Great Sun! likethee, with effluence bright, Rich source of intellectual light. Benign Humanity appears, From Sorrow shielding, and from cares, And Poverty 's sad blight. Genius hails thee, Pow'r propitious ! Ripening in thy smile auspicious ; Light divine ! thy bounty streaming * Consecrates this destinM ground, On the vase thy lustre beaming, u Inspiration breathes around/' * It must be remembered, that this is a chanL.ble as \vell as a poetical institution. 80 SEWARD'S ODE The nobler pleasures of the moral world From this internal radiance gently flow, As when, O Sun ! thy Summer beams are hurPd And Air, Earth, Ocean, all exulting glow. Great Sun! with plenty ever bless these plains, Where Genius strikes the Lyre, and soft-eyed Mercy reigns ! SYMPATHY, A POEM. With NOTES and ILLUSTRATIONS. BY MR. PRATT. THE TENTH EDITION. ..I JL HE Reader is requested to consider the following Poem as a SKETCH, and only a sketch, of the Sympathetic Principle, or Social Prin- ciple, applied first to the Author's particular situation, and thence extended more generally, as influencing the whole animal creation. Upon visiting the villa of a friend, and finding it deserted by a family extremely dear to the Author, he experienced precisely the sensa- tions he has endeavoured to describe. It wad natural for him to pass beyond his own case, and contemplate that of others under similar H 2 84 INTRODUCTION. circumstances. The fairest productions of ani- mated nature were before him. They occupied the same spot. He was in the midst of them. His heart dilated. If, as* seems to be admitted, a virtuous enthusiasm be necessary to the pro- per enjoyment of such scenery, the Critic of Nature will hardly know how to be offended, though he should find that enough of this has stolen into the subject, to occasion effusions, ^whichj if closely examined when the mind is cold, may be not altogether in strict connection. It were easy to have thrown out some senti- ments not quite in keeping with the theme ; but, zealous to prove the powers of Universal Sympathy, the writer felt the solicitudes of a Philanthropist united with those of an Author. Of course, what had any chance of cementing the social affections, was too precious to be omitted. 85 To the AUTHOR of SYMPATHY. ff HAT son of Phoebus strikes the heavenly lyre, With sweetest strains of Nature and of Art ? What sounds that sacred harmony inspire, Strike on the ear, and vibrate through the heart? While this new candidate for virtuous fame, Like a coy lover, hides the secret flame, Enjoys the plaudits, and conceals his name? Hear'st thou, my Clio? Heaven-descended Muse, Let not this laurel'd Chief remain unknown ; Though modest merit should the praise refuse, Assert thy Poet, and his temples crown ; O ! should a lay like this be sung in vain ? Or should the sweetest swan concealed remain. While many a goose loud gabbles o'er the. plain ? 86 TO THE AUTHOR Within each gen'rous heart, his song enshrinM, Shall rouse the social passions to a tear ; Shall wake to Sympathy each feeling mind, And blend Love's rosy smile with Pity's tear* Then, Clio, tell with pride thy Poet's name, Freed from the fears of Envy's dart or blame, And let th' admiring world thy Bard proclaim. CLARA REEVE.* WRITTEN ON THE LAST LEAF OF THE COR- RECTED COPY OF " SYMPATHY." IT! ACTE virtute esto, Patrone Pauperum elegantissime, miseriarum inurbanarum Pictor urbanissime, in quo reviviscit Goldsmithius. Pulchre,

SYMPATHY. 97 His presence hail, his absence long deplore, Droop as he droops, and die when he's no more. Pleas'd at the thought, still onward let m* tread, Where flocks and herds diversify the mead, Where breathing odours, winnow'd by the gale, Fan the soft bosom of the smiling vale ; The rooks behind their brawling councils hold, And the proud peacock trails his train of gold ; Around the doves their purple plumage show, And clucking poultry saunter, pleased, below; While there the house-dog, with accustomed Fawns on the hind, as late he fawn'd on thee. These crop the food, those press the flowery bed, Nor weep the absent, nor bewail the dead ; Their stinted feelings seem but halfawake^ Dull as yon steer, now slumb'ring on the brake* I 98 t PRATT'S Whence, then, the gloom that shrouds the summer sky 1 [eye ? Whence the warm tear, now gathering in my And whence the change w r hen bosom-friends depart ? From FANCY striking on the feeling HEART. Oh ! should I follow where she leads the way. What magic meteor to her touch would play ! Then, far from theo, this sun which gilds my brow. In deep eclipse would darken all below ; [feed, The herds, though now plain, reason sees them Smithy her touch, would languish in the mead ; The breeze, which now disports with yonder spray, The flocks which pant beneath the heat of day, The. pendent copse in partial shadows drest, The scanty herbage on the mountain's crest ? The balmy pow'rs that mix with every gale, The glassy lakes that fertilize the dale, SYMPATHY. 99 Struck by her mystic sceptre, all would fade, And sudden sadness brood along the shade. As poets sing, thus Fancy takes her range. Whose wand etherial waves a general change ; A change, which yielding Reason still obeys. For sceptred Reason oft with Fancy plays ; Soon as the gen'rous master leaves his home, What visioned sorrows deep invest the dome ! Soon as the much-lov'd mistress quits the scene, No longer smiles the grateful earth in green : In solemn sable ev'ry flow'r appears, And skies relent in sympathizing tears ! Scarce had the bard of Leasowes 3 lov'd domain Clos'd his dimm'd eye upon the pensive plain, Ere birds and beasts funereal honours paid, Mourn'd their lov'd lord, and sought the desert His gayest meads a serious habit wore, [shade; His larks would sing, his lambs would frisk no more; 12 100 PHATT'S A deeper cadence murmur'd from his Cimmerian horror brooded o'er his woods : At ev'ry solemn pause the raven scream'd, The sun set sanguine, and the dog-star gleam M : But chief the conscious laurels droop'd their head. While every bower its leafy honours shed ; Around his walks the Muses wander'd slow. And hung their lyres on every naked bough. Yet, separate facts from fairy scenes like these. Nature, we find, still keeps her first decrees ; The order due, which at her birth was giv'n. Still forms th ? unchanging law of earth and In one fair tenor, on the circle goes, [heav'n ; And no obstruction, no confusion knows. When Shenstone, nay, when SHAKESPEARE pressed the tomb, [bloom ; The shrubs that saw their fate maintained their SYMPATHY. Clear ran the streams to their Nor gave one bubble less, one murmur more ; Nor did a single leaf, a simple flower, Or fade or fall, to mark their mortal hour. But, is it Fancy ALL ? what, no reserve ? From one dull course can Nature never swerve ? Is change of seasons all the change she knows, From Autumn's sickly heat* to Winter snows ; From chilling Spring to Summer's dog-star rage; From boy to man, from man to crawling age ? These her transitions, lingering, sad, and slow, Whence, then, in these lov'd shades, my bo- som's woe ? Ah ! is it Fancy, that, with silent pace, Impels me thus to range from place to place ? To see on ev'ry side an harvest bend, Yet look on ev'ry side to tiud my friad? I* 102 PRATT'S Qv js ii Farley .t^akes yon village train, For now His evening sport around in vain? That plighted pairs, amidst the hazel houghs, By me unseen, impart their tender vows ; While, unsuspicious of a witness near, They mix with Nature'slanguage Nature's tear ? That twilight's gentle gray which now comes on. To wait, a sober hand-maid, on the sun, To watch his parting tinge, his soften' d fires, Then blush, with maiden-grace, as he retires ; The full-orb'd moon, which now ascending high Her silver shade throws light across the sky ; The still serene, that seems to lull the breeze, Soft in a leafy cradle ; midst the trees ; The lessened sound of yondef distant bell, Some mournful moral in each pausing knell ; The dropping dew that settles on my cheek, The frugal lights that from each cottage break ; Thejust-dropp'd latch, the little lattice clos'd. To shield from evening's damp the babe repos'd ? SYMPATHY. 103 And note the hour when temperance and health Yield the pale vigils of the night to wealth 1 Say, is it vision'd Fancy works the charm, When these blest objects lose their power to w T arm 1 Ah ! no : from other sources springs the smart ; Its source is here, hard pressing on my HEART. Yes, 'tis the HEART, my friend, which rules And turns a gloomy to a cloudless sky; [the eye, The soft magician governs ev'ry scene, Blossoms the rock, or desolates the green ; Along the heath bids fancied roses blow, And sunshine rise upon a world of snow. Yes, 'tis the HEART endears each smiling plain, Or to his native mountain binds the swain (a) ; His native mountain where his cottage stands, More lov'd, more dear, than all the neighboring lands ; 14 104 JPRATT'S For though the blast be keen, the soil be bare, His friends, his wife, his little ones are there. Oh ! had the brother of my heart been nigh, When morning threw her mantle o'er the sky ; Or when gay noon a gaudier robe display 'd, Or modest evening drew her softest shade ; Then had the shrubs breath' d forth their full perfume. And, like his flow'rs, my feelings been in bloom. For still to prove the natural bias right. Should each fair season with each sense unite. The bias SOCIAL, man with men must share The varied benefits of earth and air ; Life's leading law, my friend, which governs all, To some in large degrees, to some in small ; To lowest insects, highest pow'rs, a part Wisely dispensed to ev'ry beating heart; SYMPATHY. 305 A due proportion to all creatures given, From the mole's mansion, to the seraph's heav'n. See the wing'd legions which at noontide play, Together clustering in the solar ray. There sports the social passion ; see, and own. That not an atom takes its flight alone. Th' unweildy monsters of the pregnant deep. The savage herds that through the forest sweep. The viewless tribes that populate the air, The milder creatures of domestic care, The rooks which rock their infants on the tree, The race which dip their pinions in the sea, The feathered train, gay tenants of the bush, The glossy blackbird, and the echoing thrush, The gaudy goldfinch, which salutes the spring, Winnowing the thistle with his burnish'd wing, Jove's eagle soaring tow'rds yon orb of light^ Aurora's lark, and Cynthia's bird of night; 106 PRATT'S All these the laws of Sympathy declare, [SHARE. And chorus Heaven's first maxim, BORN TO (/;) E'en yon vast ELEMENTS, my friend, may prove The tender force of Sympathy and Love. Th' illumin'd aether, o'er whose ample breast Suns roll, stars circle, planets sweep or rest, On which the glowing fingers of the GOD Have mark'd the beamy comet's flaming road, O'er which floats wide the Proteus orb of light, By day the azure, and the dun by night, These, as they travel their fix'd course agree, And charm the spheres with SOCIAL harmony. Who knows (a task by sages imexplor'd) What social aid the elements afford ? What kindred ties may bind the host of air ? What friendly office star may do for star ? Perhaps, (nor is conjecture here a vice, Fancy full -plum'd in such research may rise:) SYMPATHY. 107 Perhaps yon Sun, reduc'd by constant glow, For ages friendly to this world below, May from some neighboring planet borrow light, As he repairs the waning queen of night. Perhaps some orb celestial may restore Some lov'd and kindred star's exhausted power ; With friendly aid may bountifully glow, And be in heaven what Howard was below. Thus Inline t, Sympathy, or what you will, A first great principle, is active still ; Shines out of every element the soul, And, deep pervading, animates the whole ; Floats in the gal e, surrounds earth's wide domain. Ascends with fire, and dives into the main ; Whilst dull, or bright, th' affections know to As full, or feably, darts this social ray ; [play Dimly it gleams oa insect, fish, and fowl, But spreads broal sunshiaeo'er man's fa vour'd soul. 108 PRATT'S Man's favoured soul then tracing thro 5 each Behold it fitted for a social fate ; [state. Behold how ev'ry link in nature tends One chain to form of relatives and friends. One chain unnumber'd beings to confine, Till all assimilate, and all combine. Yon spacious dome, which earth and sea commands, Where Lelius dresses his paternal lands; Where water gushes, and where wood extends, To share each bounty, Lelius calls his friends; A desert scene, 'till they adorn hisbow'rs; A naked waste, 'till they partake his flow'rs. Nor this, tho' sweet, the greatest bliss he feels, That greatest bliss his modesty conceals, [main, Pass the green slope which bounds his fair do- And seek the valley sloping from the plain ; 1 here, in a blossom'd nook, by pomp unseen, An aged couple lead a life serene ; SYMPATHY. 109 And there, behind those elms, a sickly pair Exchange their labours for a softer care: J Twas Lelius gave to sickness this repose, And plac'd life's second cradle near the rose; In his own hall though louder joys prevail, A dearer transport whispers from the vale ; Tho' mirth and frolic echo thro' the dome, In those small cots his bosom finds a home. Fame, fortune, friends, can Providence give more? Go, ask of heav'n the blessings of the poor ! A greater comfort would you still supply 1 Then wipe the tear from Sorrow's streaming eye; For social kindness to another shown. Expands the bliss to make it more your own. Lo! the rude savage, naked and untaught, Shares with his mate what arts and arms have caught ; 110 PKATT'S When winter darkness clouds his long, long night, See how he strives to find the social light ; ~ * His woodland wife, his forest children dear. Smooth the bleak storms that sadden half hi* year: For them he tracks the monster in the snow ; For them he hurls his sling, and twangs his bow. Nor scorching sunshine, nor the driving shower, Nor vollied thunder, nor the lightning's pow'r, Nor climes, where sickness pants in every breeze, Nor worlds of ice, where nature seems to freeze, Check the fair principle, which bursts away, Like yon blest sun when clouds attempt his ray. Hence, ever lean the feeble on the strong, As tender sires their children lead along; While, by degrees, as transient life declines, Anci blooming youth to withering age resigns, SYMPATHY. Ill The social passion shifts with place and time, And tender sires are led by sons in prime ; The guide becomes the guided in his turn, Wiiile child and parent different duties learn- Not then from FANCY only, from the HEART, Pours the keen anguish on the mortal part, And Truth herself, destroys the bloom of May, When Death or Fortune tears a friend away ; From virtuous passion, virtuous feeling, flows The grief that dims the lily and the rose. Drops a soft sorrow for a friend in dust? There Truth and Fancy both may rear the bust. While one pours forth the tribute of the heart, The other plies her visionary art ; Potent she calls her airy spectres round, And bids them instant consecrate the ground ; Fancy presides as sovereign of the scene, And darkens every leaf of every green ; 112 PRATT'3 Whilst Reason loves to mix with hers the tear, And the fair mourners form a league sincere ; Her airy visions Fancy may impart, And Reason listen to the charmer's art. In life's fair morn, I knew an aged seer (c), Who sad and lonely pass'd his joyless year; Betray'd, heart-broken, from the world he ran, And shunn'd, oh dire extreme ! the face of man ; Humbly he rear'd his hut within the wood, Hermit his vest, a hermit's was his food ; Nich'd in some corner of the gelid cave, Where chilling drops the rugged rockstone lave, Hour after hour, the melancholy sage, Drop after drop to reckon, would engage The lingering day, and trickling as they fell, A tear went with them to the narrow well. Then thus he nioraliz'd,, as &low itpassM: " This brings me nearer Lucia than the last ; SYMPATHY. 113 Andtfcis,now streamingfromtheeye,"saidhe, Oh, my lov'd child! will bring me nearer thee." When first he roam'd, his dog, with anxious care, His wand'rings watch'd, as emulous to share; In vain the faithful brute was bid to go. In vain the sorrower sought a lonely woe. The Hermit paus'd, th' attendant dog was near. Slept at his feet, and caught the falling tear: Up rose the hermit, up the dog would rise. And every way to win a master tries. " Then be it so. Come faithful fool, 53 he said / One pat ericourag'd, and they sought the shade ; An unfrequented thicket soon they found. And both repos'd upon the leafy ground ; Mellifluous murm'rings told the fountains nigh, Fountains which well a pilgrim's drink supply. K 114> p WATT'S And thence, by many a labyrinth it led Where ev'ry tree bestow'd an evening bed. SkilPdin the chase, the faithful creature brought Whatever in morn or moon-light course he caught; But the sage lent his sympathy to all. Nor saw unwept his dumb associates fall : lie was, in sooth, the gentlest of his kind,. And, though a hermit, had a social mind. f4 And why 5 " said he, u must man subsist by prey ? << Why stop yon melting music on the spray ? u Why, when assaiPd by hounds and hunter's cr .Y? f 4 Must half the harmless race in terrors die ? tc Why must we work of innocence the woe ? " Still shall this bosom throb, these eyes o'er- flow." Thus hVd the master good, the servant true, ; Till to its God the master's spirit flew. SYMPATHY. 115 Beside a fount, which daily water gave, Stooping to drink, the Hermit found a grave ; All in the running stream his garments spread, And dark damp verdure ill- conceal'd his head ; The faithful servant, from that fatal day (d) Watch'd the lov'd corpse, and hourly pin'd away ; His head upon his master's cheek was found, While the obstructed waters mourn'd around. O pain, to think that fellow-men there be Whose breasts ne'er felt the touch of Sympathy ! Who view unmov'd the sorrow-delug'd eye Overflow with bitterness, and hear the sigh Heave from the sealed heart ; yet, still severe. Ne'er knew the solace of a pitying tear; Who, stern, can see a neigh hour's whelming fate Bend him to earth beneath misfortune's weight ; Who the blest throb of tenderness ne'er felt, Pangs that delight, and agonies that melt ! Jl6 pp, ATI'S Vv Did HE who form'd the final sense to know Congenial transport, and congenial woe ; The social passion breathed in every vein. To perfect happiness and soften pain : Did Le who nioulded man with such a grace. And open'd half the cherub in his face ; Who bade the spark divine illume his eye, Sole image of his God beneath the sky ; Who fram'd his heart to own sweet Friendship's charms, Gave the warm wish, and the embracing arms; Who., soon as earth from the dark void was made, Bade order rise, and with kind accent said: a Now let man live with man in leagues of " And every joy of amity increase ; [peace, u Let social bliss improve the new-born day, " Arid all my children the soft law obey : " So shall I bless the mercies I bestow, a So still declare that all is good below." SYMPATHY. 117 O blasphemy of thought! did HE ordain That all these social bounties should be vain? No! every power without, within, declares Man's bliss is doubled when that bliss he shares. The social passion thus by Heaven imprest. Why find we still one alienated breast ? While every object prompts on every side, Why is the tender cement still deny'd? Wliile every atom of the system tends To general order and dependent ends ; While air> and earth, and ocean, all conspire To waken virtuous love and fond desire, To spread the soft, the heaven-connected plan, Why from the compact starts incongruous Man 1 But sordid souls are ever in distress ; To bless himself, each must a second bless; Then kindle on, 'till he the world embrace, And in Love'* girdle bind the human race. 118 PRATT'S Thus social grief can finer joys impart Than the dull pleasures of the miser's heart: Thus with more force can melancholy warm Than wild ambition's solitary charnu And, oh, just Heav'n! what "gift canst thou bestow. What gem so precioms as a tear for woe ? A tear more full of thee, O pow'r divine. Than all the dross that ripens in the mine! As man with man, with creature cre&Uire keeps, In summer feeds in view, in winter creeps More fondly close : but take the lamb apart From its lov'd mother, then the social heart 'Plains in its voice, while sad, the dam around Bleats at the theft, and leav es uncropt the grounds In yonder huts, at this profound of night, The twelfth hour striking as the line I write*, SYMPATHY. 1.19 In yonder scattered huts, ow every swain. With every maid and matron of the plain, In Sleep's soft arms on wholesome pallets prestj Breathe forth the social passion as they rest : But should dire fate the father make its prey. Or snatch, untimely, onelov'd child away. Or bear the faithful housewife to the tomb, Or should the damsel sicken in her bloom, No aid from Fancy seeks the sorrowing heart. But Truth, with force unborrow'd, points the dart. For me, as weary of my self I rise. To seek the rest which wakeful thought denies^ O'er the lov'd mansion as I lonely range, Condemned at every step to feel the change ; Through each apartment, where so oft my heart Hath shared each grace of nature and of art^ Where, memory marks each object that I see 5 And fills the bosom, oh, my friend! with thee; K 4 120 JPRATT'S Through each apartment as I pass along> Pause for relief, and then pursue my song ; for me, who now with midnight taper go, * To lose in sleep's oblivious shade my woe, No greater good my closing thoughts can bless* Ere this remember'd little couch I press. Than the sweet hope, that at this sacred hour, My friend enjoys kind Nature's balmy power $ Than the soft wish, which on my bended knee, 1 offer up, Eliza, warm for thee ! Wife of my friend, alike my faithful cate, Alike the object of each gentle prayer ; Far distant though thou art, thy worth is near,. And my heart seals its blessings with a tear. r THE FIRST BOOR. SYMPATHY. 121 BOOK II. /jLND now again 'tis mom, the orient sun Prepare* once more his radiant course to run ; O'er yon tall trees I see his glories rise. Tinge their green tops, and gain upon the skies : The SOCIAL PRINCIPLE resumes the shade. Basks on the banks, or glides along the glade: See how it pants, my friend, in yonder throng. Where half a village bears the sheaves along, Low stoops the swain to dress his native soil. And here the housewife comes* to * soothe hi* toil ; While heav'n's warm beams upon her bosom dart, 81ie owns the fondness of her wedded heart, 122 PRATT'S From his damp brow the labour'd drop removes. And dares to show with what a force she loves : Where'er the mother moves, her race attend^ And often cull the corn, and often bend ; Or bear the scrip, or tug the rake along. Or catch the burthen of the reaper's song ; Or, shrinking from the sickle's curving blade. Cling to the gown, half pleas'd, and half afraid ; While he who gave them life looks on the while, And views his little household with a smile ; Imprints the kiss; then blessing ev'ry birth, Carols his joy, and hails the generous earth. But not to scenes of peasantry confined, Though, haply, simpler there, as less refin'd ; Not circumscribed to these the social plan^ Which more extends, as more pursu'd by man. Just as yon path-way, winding thro' themead^ Crows broad and broader by perpetual treact 5 SYMPATHY. 125 The social passion turns the foot aside, And prompts the swains to travel side by side ; Both edge, by turns, upon the bordering sod. And the path widens as the grass is trod. In cities thus, tho' trade's tumultuous train Spurn at the homely maxims of the plain. Not all the pride of rank, the trick of art, Can chase the generous passion fsom the heart: Nay, more ; a larger circle it must take, Where men embodying larger interests make, And each, perforce, round each more closely 1 twine, Where countless thousands form the social line, As slow to yonder eminence I bend, Gradual the views of social life extend; Where benches ease the steep ascent I stray. And stop at each to take a just survey \ 124 PRATIES At every step, as sinks the vale behind, A wider prospect opens on mankind. Far,, to the right, where those blue hills arise. And bathe their swelling bosoms in the skies. k The barks of c6mmerce set the flapping sail, And the dark sea-boy sues the busy gale ; There the deep warehouse shows its native storc^ There flame the riches of a foreign shore \ Thick swarm the sons of trade on every hand, And either India breathes along the strand ; Gold, give me gold ! each bustler cries aloud, As hope or fear alternate seize the crowd ; To careless eyes, the love of pelf alone Seems to drain off the golden tide for one ; But closer view'd a various course it takes, And wide meanderings in its passage makes; Through many a social channel see it run, In splendid heritage from sire to son ; SYMPATHY. 125 From thence in many a mazy stream it flows, And feejs no ebb, no dull stagnation knows : Thus Nature and Necessity agree The social chain to stretch from land to sea. Thus e'en the miser, tho' his sordid soul Loves but himself, befriends, perforce, the whole. Ask you a stronger proof? Place wealth alone With some hard niggard, lock up all his own ; Pile bills, and bags, and bonds, upon his shelf, And a close prisoner chain him to his pelf. Unhappy man ! from family and friends, From all which heav'n in soft compassion sends, From touch of kindred, tune of tender speech, And exil'd from the social passion's reach ; How would he sigh, tho' every hope were vain. And buy a glance at man with half his gain ! How at some chink or crevice would he ply, And envy each poor beggar limping by ! Far happier he, who, breasting every wind, Lives on the common mercy of his kind ; 126 PRATTY Who roams the world to tell his piteous ease, And dies at last amidst the human race. (e) Ye selfish friends ! ye worshippers of gold. Who deem a passion lavished if unsold ; Who farm the feelings with a statesman's art. And, like base usurers, traffic with the heart ; Who to that idol in its niche, confine The holy incense due at Nature's shrine Say, can your sordid merchandize deny The sacred force of heav'n-born sympathy ? Ah, no ! the generous spirit takes a part, As goodness, glory, pity, move the heart : Else, why at fabled virtues do we glow ? At fabled sorrows why with tears overflow ? Why with the bleeding hero do we bleed ? Why scorn the base, and love the gen'rous deed? SYMPATHY. 127 (/) Why ^ as with Homer's chiefs we rush to war, Each turn of varying fortune do we share? Why with the mourning wife of Hector mourn ? With Priam weep, and with Achilles burn ? ; Spite of your arts, the sympathies arise. And aid the cause of all the brave and wise ; 'Spite of your little selves, when virtue charms, To Nature true, the social passion warms ; Vain to resist, imperial Nature still (g) Asserts her claim, and bends us to her will. And GOLD itself, though stigmatized with rage, Through many a rash, declamatory page. The gorgeous ruin by each Bard decry'd, In tuneful scorn, or philosophic pride, Wit's standing subject of supreme disgrace, And gravely call'd, the curse of all our race: Yes, GOLD itself, though soft Tibullus swears It deafen' d Nemesis to all his prayers, 128 PRATT'S Brib'd her false heart from passion's sacred fire. And loos'dher from the magic of his lyre Appears, my friend, the SOCIAL power to aid Pure from the dust that clogs the wheel of trade. Full falsely charge we mother earth with wrong, In all the wild licentiousness of song : Safe in her central caverns harmless shone This hoarded treasure of her ancient throne ; In rich repose it slept within the mine, Nor wish'd to quit the subterraneous shrine ; With parent caution^ Earth, who knew its powers, [flowers ; O'er the fair mischief strewed her various While every flower her sweetest perfume bore, That her lov'd children might require no more. MAN dragg'd the splendid stranger first to view. And, like a meteor, round the world it flew ; SYMPATHY. 129 A ready welcome from the world it found, And Phoebus hail'd the phoenix from the ground^ Immediate wonder seiz'd the circling crowd. But chief Europa to her idol bow'd ; Her bark, her car, with emblems gilded o'er, The homage spread from ocean to the shore ; Attractive gold obsequious votaries drew, 'Till useful fondness into dotage grew. Yet still be just. In shape of fraud or force, Ere gold appeared, the PASSIONS took their course ; Like whirlwinds swept the flowers of life along, And crushed the weak, and undermined the strong: Lord as thou wert, Tibullus, of the strains That sweetest paint a hapless lover's pains, Long, long, E'en in those times which raptur'd bards have When nature triumph'd, and the world was young, Blest days ! whose charms so many lays rehearse, Blest days, alas ! which only bloom in verse-^* E'en then let Hist'ry tell what follies sped, Assail' d the hut, and thro' the forest spread ; How daring guilt in proud obtrusion stood. And d^M his dreadful robe in brother's blood ; How son and sire, with unrelenting strife, Ensanguined sought each other's kindred life ; SYMPATHY. 131 How matrons stopp'd the new-born infant's breath. And bold self-slaughter rush'd on impious death. How darkling error stainM the blushing morn ? And life's first roses bore the pointed thorn ; How ages past exhibit all the crimes That random satire aims at modern times ; How varying MODES alone divide the plan Betwixt the savage and the social man ; How ruder vices now refined appear. Adopting still the fashion of the year: Conclude we then th vices are the same 5 Conclude that man, not gold, is still to blame. Rail then no more at gold ; for plain to view Behold an antidote and poison too: Oh ! save the shining metal from abuse. And the heart turns it to a SOCIAL u*e ! The widow, orphan, and ten thousand more, Prove that no dross need hang about the ore; L2 132 PIIATT'S Prove, that this glittering treasure may dispense The sterling joys of pure benevolence , While from the golden reservoir may flow The richest streams of SYMPATHY below. In soft alliance with the tender heart, The SENSES, too, their sympathy impart : No longer blessings, than as all conspire With kindred zeal, to fan the social fire. Of sight, or smell, say what the mighty power, If but to see the sun, or scent the flower ? Of touch, taste, hearing, what the wond'rou* boast. If, narrow'd all to SELF, they all are lost ? But, ye of finer souls, who truly know The rich division of a joy and woe. Oh! tell the rapture, when a friend is nigh To charm the ear, or to delight the eye, To draw amusement from the pictured air, As F&ncy shapes her thousand visions there, SYMPATHY. 133 Now paints her monsters, now her armies strong, When slow she drives her twilight car along: Oh ! tell the rapture that each pleasure weara When the soul's friend each passing pleasure shares, [rose, When with twin'd arms ye watch the opening Or trace the devious streamlet as it flows, Together mark fair Summer's radiant store, Together Nature's vernal haunts explore ; And, fondly jealous of each object new, Contend who first shall point it to the view ; Then part awhile, o'er hill and valley stray, And anxious court the fortune of the day But if LONG absent, hail'd be every power, That blots the sunbeam, and destroys the bower, That wraps th' affrighted atmosphere in storms^ And each gay vision of the sky deforms ; The social senses then partake the And seek some kindred object of relief. L3 154 FRATT'S Oh hark, my soul ! to yonder stockdove's note. Sweet as the woe from Philomela's throat ; Soft let me steal along the copse to hear The mournftil murmur break upon my ear. Ah > gentle hird ! indulge thy tender pains, While the Muse greets thee with congenial strains ; Nor quit thy sombrous seat, nor needless fly The still small breathings of a social sigh : That ruffled plumage, that disordered wing, More soothing now than softest blooms of spring. And that deep sob, to every sense more dear Than all the music of the vocal year ? O shame to all that God designed below ! Shame to tbe wretch who flies from human woe ! Shame to the wretch who aims th' empoison'd dart At the proud feeling of a generous heart! SYMPATHY. 155 Yet slaves there be, who in Misfortune's bowl Mix bitter draughts to agonize the soul ; Whose bosoms gladden at another's woe. And joy to see the grief-swoln eyes overflow. Hence, *some have deemed that ev'ry heart is gall, [all, That mearmess, pride, and madness, seize on That not one bosom the infection shuns, And that the poison universal runs: That not one spirit claims its heavenly birth, And starts sublimely from surrounding earth; That never generous action mov'd the mind ; That never man to goodness seem'd inclined; That some lov'd passion overwhelms each breast. And this imparts disorder to the rest ; As when some member, by diseases foul, Touches each sounder limb, and taints the whole; * Rochefoucault* L4 136 FRATT'S Till all in one tvide selfish gulph be tost, The gracious image of the God-head lost ! Perish the thought ! Blest myriads still there are Whom Sympathy adopts with fondest care; Unbrib'd by wealth, by fortune undismayed, Friends in the sunshine, partners of the shade ; In whose warm hearts the soft sensations roll. The same at Scotland, Lapland, or the Pole ; The same or flaunting in the blaze of dress, Or woeful fluttering in unrob'd distress : Yes, there are myriads who would famine brave, A foe to succour, and a friend to save ; Thro' every tempest, every calm the samfc, Their bosoms glowing with immortal fiame ; When smooth life's sea partake the fa v 'ring gale, Together hail the port, together sail. SYMPATHY. 13? Blest be the hand that leads the power to feel, And frames us subject to the wounds we heal j That urges all to minister relief, (A^ And bade us fly with open arms to grief J That veils the soft attraction in a tear, Each bliss makes poignant, and each sorrow dear ! Eternal incense from the soul ascend To HIM who made each being want a friend, Who piac'd us in a world 'twixt sun and shade, That those which bloom might succour those that fade! And doubly bless'd the Providence whose skill In life's thin loom has woven many an ill! Tho 3 weak the texture, from that weakness springs The strength and beauty of all human things; For ? still as Fate or Nature deals the blow, The balms we now demand, we now bestow, 138 p RATT'S And all our miseries but clearly prove (i ) The social powers of Pity and of Love, . () Ask the pale mother, why 'tis joy to weep [creep ? When o'er her stricken babe faint slumbers A sk why the child, at midnight's thickest glooni 5 Still fondly lingers at a parent's tomb ? Or why the wife, in times of raging death, Yet leans to catch her lord's polluted breath ? Go, warn them straight of pestilential air. Point to the weakness here, the danger there, Let mirth and musk all their powers employ, To spread for every sense its favourite joy, Then, arm'd with all the world's seductions, try To wean the mourners from so dark a sky ; Oh ! they will spurn the offered gales of health. The lures of pleasure, and the snares of wealth, Prefer the dark recesses of disease, The sickly pillow and the tainted breeze, SYMPATHY. 139 And call it conscience, nature, bliss, to know The last extremities of SOCIAL woe. Hence the great principle to all expands. Thaws Lapland's ice, and glows on India's sands (!) ; Above, below, its genial splendours play, Where'er a human footstep marks the way, " Oh ! for one track of man upon the snow, " The trace of sweet society to show ! 4C Oh ! for one print on swarthy Afric's shore \ )y Thus prays the wanderer 'scap'd from Ocean's roar; In every clime is felt the throb divine^ By land, by water, here, and at the Line. Nor climates only, but each AGE imparts The kindly bias to our social hearts. See the swath'd infant cling to the embrace, Th 5 instinctive fondness dawning in its face; 140 PRATT'S See it, ascending, strengthen as it grows, 'Till ripe and riper the affection glows, Then view the child its toys and trinkets share With some lov'd partner of his little care: Behold the man a firmer bond reqvires^ For him the passion kindles all its fires; Next, see his numerous offspring twfoingnear, Now move the smile, and ROW excite the tear; Terror and transport in his bosom reign t Succession sweet of pleasure and of pain ; As age advances some sensations cease, Some, lingering, leave the heart, while some increase : Thus, when life's vigorous passions are no more, Self-love creeps closest to the social power ; The stooping vet'ran, with time-silver'd hair, Crawls to the blazing hearth and wicker chair ; There huddled close, he fondly hopes to spy His goodly sons and daughters standing by ; SYMPATHY. 141 To the lisp'd tale he bends the greedy ear. And o'er his children's children drops a tear : Or, every friend surviv'd, himself half dead. Frail nature still demands her hoard, her bed ; And these some kindred spirit shall bestow, His wants supply, or mitigate his woe ; Still Sympathy shall watch his fleeting breath, And gently lead him to the gates of death. Yet more; e'en WAR, the scourge of human kind, But serves more close the social links to bind; Confederate courage forms th* embattled line, Firm on each side connecting passions join ; 'Tis social danger either troop inspires, 'Tis social honour either army fires; J Tis social glory burnishes the van, 'Tis social faith spreads on from man to man ; As front to front the warring parties meet, For social ends they dare the martial feat ; 142 PRATT'S As breast to breast, and eye to eye they fix. For social ends they separate or mix. [fight. King, country., parents, children, prompt the For these, alone, they bleed, resist, unite ; And, haply, first hostilities arose From nice distinctions made of friends and foes : Some scornful slight, were nature most can smart, Some stinging insult, sorest to the heart, Bade Sympathy call vengeance to her aid, 'Till where the laws avail'd not, wars were made: Affection sought from arms the wish'd relief, And bore them 'gainst the assassin and the thief; Eager o'er those who faith's fair league invade With social zeal to lift th' avenging blade; Or from the spoiler's hand to fence the flowers That sweetly blossom round life's private bowers, Tis thus the steady eye of Reason finds^ What seems to snap the chain, more closely binds, SYMPATHY. 143 And thus each peril, like each pleasure try'd, Unites the rosy bands on either side. But less do arms than ARTS assist the plan, Those may defend, but these embellish man ; These softly draw him nearer to his kind, And mark distinct his seraph-form of mind. Lo ; in firm compact, hand, and head, and heart. To aid the system take a helping part ; Their various powers by various modes they lend, And serve in union as one common friend: Hence, by consent, men clear the unthrifty wood, New model earth, and navigate the flood ; Hence hamlets grow into the city's pride, While the soul opens, like the talents, wide. 144 fRATT's By social pleasure, social profit swayM. Some soar to learning, and some stoop to trade: Studious to gain the love of human kind, The social sage at midnight stores his mind, Robs weary nature of her just repose, Nor drinks the dew that bathes the morning rose, Nor, when the sun to Cynthia gives the nightj Eyes the soft blessing of her tender light, But o'er the taper leans his pensive head. And for the living communes with the dead. The dusky artisan, his effort made, Asserts his rights and leaves the sickly shade ; At eve, he quits the spot where glooms annoy, And seeks the bosom of domestic joy ; The social faggot, and the light repast, Await to cheer hiia when hi* toils are past. And hence each clag of elegant and great. Art decks the dome, and commerce crowds the street ; SYMPATHY. 145 The heav J n- born Muse impetuous wings her way, When her lov'd Seward seeks the realms of day : Queen of the comic power, hence Cowley wooes. Fair visitations of the gayer Muse ; The painter hence his magic pencil plies, And Reynolds bids a new creation rise ; Hence Kauffman sketches life's lov'd forms anew, And holds the mirror of past times to vie.w, Restores each grace that marked the Grecian age. And draws her lovely comment on the page : And still to cheer the sjlitary hour, [power; For this has Beach (w) displayed his happiest, I see my friend upon the canvass glow, And feel the srnile that lightens every woe. All, SYMPATHY, is thine ; th ? Immortal strung [tongue; For thee that more than golden harp th* M 146 JTRATT'S The sphere's best music taught it to impart. And bade each soft vibration strike the heart. Thine too, the varied fruitage of the fields, The clustering crops which yonder valley yields, That thy my down, where feed a thousand sheep, This bower umbrageous, and yoncultur'd steep ; The still smooth joys that bloom o'er life's serene. And all the bustle of its public scene. Nor think the dull cold reasoners can dis- prove These varied powers of Sympathetic love ; Nor hope, ye cynics, all your skill can find From partial spots a flaw in human kind : As well the panther might ye charge with sin. And call each streak a blemish n his skin ; Allow to self the broadest scope ye can. Still breathes the social principle in man. Oft when pride whispers that he stands alone, His strength proceeds from other than his own ; SYMPATHY. 14? Oft when he seems to walk the world apart, Another's interest twines about his heart ; And call his project rash, his effort vain. The END is social which he sighs to gain. Or say 5 this builds for pomp, that digs for bread, This shews you pictures, that a pompous bed. This toils a niggard at his lonely trade, That rears the bower, but asks not to its shade :; That this for vanity his wealth displays, As that for pride unravels learning's maze ; Trace but their PURPOSE to one general end. You see it w 7 ork the good of wife, or friend; Parent or child their privilege still claim, And social comfort springs from what we blame. Frailty itself, our sympathy may spare, A graceful weakness when no vice is there. Who hopes perfection, breaks down nature'* fence, And spurns the modest bounds of sober sense. Ma 148 PRATT'S When straw-like errors leaa to virtue's side, Ah ! check, ye bigots, check your furious pride. Some venial faults, like clouds at dawn of day. Blush as they pass, and but a moment stay ; Those venial faults from sordid natures start, And spring up only in the generous heart ; As florid weeds elude the labourer's toil. From too much warmth or richness of the soil, While meaner souls, like Zembla's hills of snow, Too barren prove for weeds or flowers to grow. This then is clear, while human kind exist, The social principle must still subsist, In strict dependency of one on all, As run the binding links from great to small. Man born for man some friendly aid requires, The contract strengthening, 'till the soul retires : Nor then, e'en then it breaks, for still we pay A brother's homage to the breathless clay ; SYMPATHY. 149 Jealous of destiny, the heart would save Its favoured object from the closing grave,, Its favoured object chosen from the rest. In grief, in joy, the monarch of the breast ; To earth we trust what fondness would retain, And leave the corpse to visit it again ; Nay, unconfin'd by partial ties of blood, We brave e'en peril for a stranger's good, (ji) Once, and not far from where those seats are seen, [tween, Just where yon white huts peep the copse be- A damsel languish'd, all her kin were gone, For God, who lent, resum'd them one by one ; Disease and penury in cruel strife Had ravish' d all the decent means of life; E'en the mark'd crown, her lover's gift, she gave, In filial duty for a father's grave. Ms 150 PJIATT'S That so the honoured clay which eaus'd her birth Might slumher peaceful in the aacred earth, Chim'd to its grass-green home with pious peal, While hallow'd dirges hymn the last farewell ; Her Lover, too, untimely snaich ; d away, A LOVER II us BAND on the bridal -day ! At length these piercing woes her sense invade. And lone and long the hapless wanderer stray 'd O'er the black heath, around th' unmeasured wood, Up the huge precipice, or near the flood ; She mounts the rock at midnight's awful hour. Enjoys the gloom, and idly mocks the shower ; Now scorns her fate, then patient bends the knee. And Courts each pitying star to set her free ; Then starting wildly, thinks those stars her foes. Smites her sad breast, and laughs amidst her woes : Shemcimtsthervdc. at midnights aw fid hoitr. SYMPATHY. 151 Oft would she chase the bee, or braid the grass, Or crop the hedge-flower, or disorder'd pass; Else, restless loiter in the pathless mead, Sing to the birds at roost, the lambs at feed ; Or if a nest she found the brakes among, No hand of hers destroyed the promised young; And when kind nature brought the balmy sleep, Too soon she woke to wander and to weep ; Across her breast the tangled tresses flew, And phrensied glances all around she threw; Th' unsettled soul those phrensied glance* speak, And tears of terror hurry down her cheek ; Yet still that eye was bright, that cheek was fair, Though pale the rose, the lily blossomM there. A wandering swain the beauteous maniac found ? Her woes wild warbling to the rocks around; A river rolPd beside, aghast she ran, Her vain fears startling at the sight of man: M4 152 FRATT'S And "Save me, God! my father's ghost!" she cry'd, Then headlong plung'd into the flashing tide. The youth pursues but wild the waters rose. And o'er their heads in circling surges close. Not heav'n-born Sympathy itself could save ; Both, both,ala&! where whelm M beneath the wave. And lives the man, who senseless could have stood To see the victim buffet with the flood ? Whose coward cheek no tinge of honour feels, Flush'd with no pride at what the muse reveals ? If such a man, if such a wretch there be, Thanks to this aching heart, I am not he. Hail, lovely griefs, in tender mercy giv'n! And hail, ye tears,, like dew-tlrops fresh from heav'ii ! SYMPATHY. 153 Hail, balmy breath of unaffected sighs, [skies ! More sweet than airs that breathe from eastern Hail, sacred source of sympathy divine. Each social pulse, each social fibre thine ! HaiK symbols of the God, to whom we owe The nerves (hat vibrate, and the hearts that glow; Love's tender tumult, friendship's holy fires. And all which beauty, all which worth inspires ; The joy that lights the hope-illumin'd eye, The bliss supreme that melts in pity's sigh ; Affection's bloom quick rushing to the face, The choice acknowledged, and the warm em- brace ! [draw Oh Power of powers ! whose magic thus can Earth, air, and ocean, by one central law ; Join bird to bird, to insect insect link, [think ; From those which grovel, up to those which Oh, ever blest! whose bounties, opening wide. Fill the vast globe for mortals to divide, 154 PRATT'S Thy heavenly favours stretch from pole to pole, Encircle earth, and rivet soul to soul ! Cease then to wonder these lovM scenes im- part No more the usual transport to my heart ; Tho' modest Twilight visit Eve again, [swain; At whose soft summons homeward steps the Though from the breath of oxen in the vale I catch the spirit of the balmy gale, [sing, And from the brakes the answering thrushes While the gray owl sails by on solemn wing ; Nor wonder if when morning blooms pgain, In discontent I quit the flowery plain. Thus the poor mariner (o), his traffic o'er. Crowds every sail, to reach his native shore ; With smiles he marks the pennons stream to port. And climbs the topmost mast to eye the fort; SYMPATHY. 155 Dim through the mist the distant land appears, And far he slopes to hail it with his tears ; From foreign regions foreign faces come. Anxious he seeks his much lov'd friends at home ; [glows. Warm, and more warm, the social passion As near and nearer to the place he goes ; Quick beats his heart, as pressing on he sees His own fair cottage canopy 5 d with trees; For there, in blessed health, he hopes to find His wife and cradled infant left beh'nd ; Panting, he plucks the latch that guards the door, But finds his wife, his cradled babe no more ! Like some sad ghost he wanders o'er the green, Droops on the blossomed waste, and loathes the scene. Yet haply you, by SYMPATHY, may know That here awhile I paus'd to paint my woe; 156 PRATT'S For ? sure 5 if ever sylph or sylphid bore One true friend's message to a distant shore ; If ever spirit whispered gentle deed, In such an absence most its aid we need. Perhaps, for now let Fancy take her flight, My friend, like me, may wander through th* night, A midst a different scenery may roam, And many a gentle sigh address at home ; E'en now, where moon-beams tremble on the wave. And circling sea-gulls their long pinions lave> Where anchor'd vessels in the harbour ride. To wait the flux of the returning tide, Where the salt billow beats against the strand, My friend may take his solitary stand ; Or on the rock projecting to the main, May sit him down to mark the social strain, Along the frothingbeach may lend his way, And suit, like me, his sorrows to his lay. SYMPATHY. 15? Farewell! My hour approaches with the dawn, And up I spring to leave the flowery lawn ; The pain increases as I stay to trace Another sunshine rising o'er the place : Adieu then, balmy shrubs and shades, adieu ! This passing incense o'er your leaves I strew ; Adieu, thou dear and hill-screen'd cottage fair ! Adieu, thou decent dome of Sunday prayer ! To each,' to all, adieu! Your lonely guest Retires. The SOCIAL PASSION speaks the rest. NOTE Note (a) page 103. Or to his native mountain binds the swain. J. HIS is perhaps one of the subjects most interesting to the feelings of man. I have on former occasions noted, and must note again, the exquisite colours in which the Bard of" Local Attachment" has painted it: What follows is a fresh proof. I " All love iheir native spot; whether beside Their ice-ribb'd mountains, through a waste of ni^ht. They catch the frost gales from the stormy tide, And shiver to the boreal flashes bright ; Or, if the sun vouchsafe a noon-day light, Hail from the crags, his faint- reflected beams, And slide o'er mould' i ing bridge frora height to height.** 160 NOTES. Again: " Nor less, from use, the sons of reason mark Their native skies, their-heart-iesponding home; Whether those skies be azure-bright, or dark With sullen tempest; whether lordly dome Or shed be theirs. Still, sighing deep, they roam Far from the umbrageous grove, or village green ; Nor wander over ocean's angry foam, Without a hope once more to trace serene Where Peace hath smooth'd her wing, the dear familiar scene." Nor has the author of the above lines failed fo ex- emplify his prepossessing subject by facts in prose.* It is long since I caused the extract to be made; and as the transcriber has omitted to give the name of the author, I am not sure to whom I am indebted for (he subsequent remarks; I have not the poem at hand to refer to, but I think it is Mr. Polwhele, who observes, that " this sentiment is also the source of the amor patritf, because it brings to our recollection the gentle and pure affections of our earliest years. It increases * See notes to " L^cal Attachment." .NOTES. l6l with extension, and expands with the progress of time, as a sentiment of a celestial and immortal nature. In Switzerland there is an antient musical air, extremely simple, called Runs des Vaches. This air produces an effect so powerful, that it was found necessary to pro- hibit the playing of it in Holland and in France before the Swiss Soldiers, because it made them all desert one after another. I imagine that the Rans dcs Vaches must imitate the lowing and bleating of cattle, th* repercussion of the echoes, and other local associa- tions, which made the blood boil in the veins of these poor soldiers, by recalling to their memory the val- leys,* the lakes, the mountains of their country t; and, at the same time, the companions of their early * Alas ! what must be the sentations of the true lovers f their country, in dismantled, desolated Switzerland, now ? f I have been told that Poutavei i, the Indian of Otahette, wfc was some years ago brought to Paris, on seeing in the royal gar* den, the paper mulberry tree, the bark of which is in that island manufactured into cloth, clasped it in his arms, and while the' tear started into his eye, exclaimed^ M Ah I tre my country !" N 162 NOTES. life, their first loves, the recollection of their indulgent grandfathers, and the like- " The love of country seems to strengthen, in pro- portion as it is innocent and unhappy. For this reason, savages are fonder of their country than polished na- tions are, and those who inhabit regions rough and wild, such as mountaineers, than those who live in fertile districts and happy climates. Nerer could the Court of Russia prevail upon a single Samoiede to leave the shores of the Frozen Ocean, and settle at Peters- burgh. Some Greenlanders, in the course of the last century, were brought to the Court of Copenhagen, where they were entertained with great kindness; but they soon fretted themselves to death. Several of them weie drowned in attempting to return to their country in an open boat. They beheld all the magni- ficence of the Court of Denmark with extreme indif- ference; but one, in particular, was observed to weep every time he saw a woman with a child in her arms: hence it was conjectured that this unfortunate man was a father. The gentleness of domestic education, Without doubt, thus powerfully attaches these poor NOTES* 163 poor people to the place of their birth. It was this which inspired the Greeks and ftoiiraiis with so much coinage in defence of their country." I have no hesitation in thanking the author of " Local Attachment*' for my first information respect- ing the Duke Domuw, which, he tells me, u is said to have been written about 200 years since, by a Win- chester scholar, detained at the usual time of breaking up, and chained to a tree or piiiar for his offence to the master, \\lnen the other scholars had liberty to visit their respective homes while the breaking up lasted, This confined scholar was so affected with grief, by being thus detained from seeing his dear home, and for the loss of his liberty, that he was moved to com- pose the Dulce Domuln, and died broken-hearted before his companions returned. In memory of this unhappy incident, the scholars of Winchester College, attended by the master, chaplains, organists, and choristers, have an annual procession, walking three times round the pillar or tree to which their fellow-collegiatf was chained, singing all the time." The air of the Dulce Nt- 104 NOTES. Domum was composed by John Reading, in the reign of Charles the Second. The Sympathy of Home is likewise illustrated most exquisitely in Nature's own language, by Nature's own Poet, in his fascinating little Poem, called 4< Market Night," It is scarcely necessary to add the n?me of Robert Bioomfield, a name no less expressive of pasto- ral than poetic sweetness : i'*kq " Sure-footed beast ! thy road thou'ft keep, Nor storm nor darkness itariles thcc." ****** ****** " O blest assurance! trusty steed, To thce the buried road is known; HOME all the spur thy footsteps need, \Vhen loose the frozen rein is thrown." The Bard who so well began the illustrations of this note, will help me to close them no less happily witii the following stanza: NOTES. 165 ** So fervent for our homes, in life, in death, We bid the sympathies of nature swell ; if There happy to resign our vital breath, Where in fond youth we own'd the trancing spell." Note (3), pace J06. E'en yon vast ELEMENTS, my Friend, may prove' Under the influence of feelings, at once solemn and sweet, awful and touching, the admirable author of '* Views of Nature" observes '* Nature is not limited: it is an unbounded machine, in which the race of men forms but an inconsiderable wheel. All beings, all operations, which originate with her, must be good, must be noble and interesting they all must tend to one poiat the production of harmony and order. The strongly marked characters which the earth in every place presents to us, speak >in a language which cannot but arouse the most torpid understanding. But that which is above us, is more legibly distinct. The firmament is the elder scripture, written by GOD'S OWN HAND: an undisputed, an aniversal scripture. Portions of this globe have 1 60 NOTES* disappeared , but whole systems hate been 1 extinguished in the heavens. How do objects, which we call vast, vanish in comparison with the etheiial Worlds which roll in space'! The terraqueous bail becomes lost in the solar system ; the solar system in the immeasurable expanse of the universe; and the universe itself, in its ALMIGHTY CREATOR!" How greatly, how gloriously, has this climax as- cended ! With the most perfect justice have the cri- tics determined the whole work to be " an excellent companion and guide in the study of philosophy, hu- man and divine : a spirit, sensible, well-disposed, and benignant; attuned to whatever is most sublime and affecting in both the natural and moral world." vv?i< Note (c) page 112. In life s fair morn I knew an aged seer ' The wcid seer is used only in the poj ular sense; as We" call a \\iseman a seer, or sage. * By Sir R. Sullivan. NOTES. 16? Note (d) 9 page 115. The faithful servant from that fatal day,-* " As to friendship," says Montaigne, " the beasts, sometimes, have it, without comparison, more^ lively and constant than men bave. King Lysimachus's .dog IJyracan, his master being dead, lay upon his becl, obstinately refusing either to eat or drink 5 and the day that his body was burnt, he took a run and leaped into the fire, where he was consumed. As also did the dog of one Pyrrhus j for he would not stir from off his master's bed from the time that he died ; and, when they took him away, let himself be carried with him, and at last leaped into the pile where they burnt his master's body. There are certain inclinations of affec- tion which sometimes spring in us without the consul- tation of reason, and by a fortuitous temerity, which others call SYMPATHY, of which beasts are as capable as we. We see horses take such an acquaintance with one another, that we have much ado to make them stir or travel when separated: we observe them to fancy a particular colour in those of their own kind, and, where they meet it, run with great joy, and 168 tfOTES. demonstrations of good will 5 and have a dislike and hatred for seme other colour." Note (e\ page 190. Ye selfish friends ! ye worshippers of gold M How selfish soever," observes the sagacious author f ' The Theory of Moral Sentiments/ "man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it, except the pleasure of see- ing it. Of this kind is pity or comparsion, the emotion which we feel for the misery of others, when we either see it, or are made to conceive it in a very lively man- ner. That we often derive sorrow from 'the sorrow of others, is a matter of fact too obvious to require any instances to prove it; for this sentiment, like all the ether original passions of human nature, is by no means confined to the virtuous and humane, though they perhaps may feel it with the most exquisite sensi- bility. The greatest ruffian, the most hardened viola- tor of the laws of society, is not altogether without it." NOTES. 169 Note (/), page W. Why, as with Homer's chiefs tee rusk to war I am proud of having united in sentiment with Adam Smith in this argument of the Social Passion, some years before I had ever met with his Theory. " Our joy," says he, " for the deliverance of those heroes of tragedy or romance who interest us, is as sincere as our grief for their distress, and our fellow- feeling with their misery is not more real than that with their happiness. We enter into their gratitude towards those faithful friends who did not desert them in their difficulties ; and we heartily go along with their resentment against those perfidious traitors who injured, abandoned, or deceived them. In every passion of which the mind of man is susceptible, the emotions of the by-stander always correspond to what, by bring- ing the case home to himself, he imagines should be the sentiments of the sufferer. " 1JO NOTES. Note (g), page 127- Vain to resist, imperial Nature still " And hence the charm historic scenes impart, Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart." says the author of the fine Poem on the " Pleasures of Memory." Note (A), pagelS7- And bade usfy with open arms to grief ** We rnn not only to congratulate the successful, feut to condole with the afflicted; and the pleasure which we find in the conversation of one whom in all the passions of his heart \ve can entirely sympathize with, seems to do more than compensate the painful- ness of that sorrow with which the view of his situation affects us." ADAM SMITH. Note (i) page 1S8. The social powers of Pity and of Love. What gratitude do I owe to the author of the subse- quent sentiments for thus giving sanction to my own! NOTES. J?l "The mind, therefbre, is rarely so disturbed, but that the company of a friend will restore it to some degree of tranquillity and sedateness. The breast is, in some measure, calmed and composed the moment we come into his presence. We are immediately put in mind of the light in which he will view our situation, and we begin to view it ourselves in the same light j for the effect of sympathy is instantaneous. We expect less sympathy from a commoa acquaintance than from a friend : we cannot open to the former all these little circumstances which we can unfold to the latter: we assume, therefore, more tranquillity before him, and endeavour to fix our thoughts upon those general out- lines of our situation which he is willing to consider. We expect still less sympathy from an assembly of strangers; and we assume, therefore, still more tran- quillity before them, and always endeavour to bring down our passion to that pitch which the particular company we are in may be expected to go along with. Nor is this only an assumed appearance: for, if we are at all masters of ourselves, the presence of a mere ac- quaintance will really compose us, still more than that 02 172 of a friend; and that of an assembly of strangers, still more than that of an acquaintance. *' Society and conrersation, therefore, are tbe most powerful remedies for restoring the mind to its tran- quillity, if, at any time, it has unfortunately lost it; .is well as the best preservatives of that equal and hap- py temper, which is so necessary to self-satisfaction and enjovm&nt. Men of retirement and speculation, who are apt to sit brooding at home over either grief or resentment, though they may often have more huma- nity, more generosity, and a nicer sense of honour, >et seldom possess that equality of temper which is so common among men of the world." ADAM SMITH. Note (k), page 138. Ask the pale mother why 'tujoy to weep " Say why the pensive widow loves to weep, When on her knee she rocks her babe to sleep ? Tremblingly, still, she lifts his veil, to trace The lather's features in his infant face." PLEASURES OF MEMORY* NOTES, 173 It is not undelightful to me to find a congeniality of thought and opinion with such writers as Rogers and Campbell. But in all such cases I think it far mor* likely that the resemblance, whether of thought or ex- pression, should be accidental than intended. The honour conferred on me by the similitude insufficient without coldly calculating which investigated the sub- ject first. 1 have gone somewhat at length into this subject in an advertisement prefixed to the drama of "Fire and Frost." Note (/;, page 139. T/iaws Lapland 's ice t and glows on India s sands The lovely Poem of " The Pleasures of Memory," Supplies me with a beautiful confirmation of my senti- ments on this subject also. " Undamp'd by time the generous instinct glows > Far as Angola's sands, as Zernbla's snows; Glows in the tyger's den, the serpent's nest; On every form of varied life imprest ; The social tribes its choicest influence hail : And when the drum beats briskly in the gale, 174 NOTES. The war-worn courser charges at the sound, And with young vigour wheels the pasture round." ROGERS. Note (m), page 145. For this has Beach display d his happiest power ; A very ingenious and rising artist, who has painted for the Author an admirable portrait of the gentleman to whom this poem is inscribed. Mr. Beach still re- sides in Bath, where he is gaining that celebrity which is due to uncommon genius, and which nothing but uncommon modesty could so long have impeded, MDCCLXXXV. And yet lie breathes; but age, infirmity, and disap- pointment maik and embitter the closing scene, inso- much that some few months back he assured the Author* that death had long been an invited, and would be a welcome visitor. Jan. 12, l8o5. Note (wj, page 149- We brave e'en peril for a stranger s good> It is with pleasure I draw an illustration of this senti- ment from an incident which happened in Scotland, in NOTES. 175 the autumn of 1800. That amiable young nobleman, LORD BINNING,, a name dear to Poets, from the pa- tronage which the family bestowed on Thompson, happening to be riding by the side of a deep river, near his pateinal seat, saw a poor woman, who had been carried away by the stream, and was in imminent and instant danger of drowning. He immediately threw himself from his horse, plunged into the river up to his neck, and dragged the perishing victim to land ; while some unfeeling persons, who had witnessed the catastrophe, remained silent spectators of the woman's danger, and would have suffered her to sink without an effort to save her. From this instance of genuine sympathy for the suf- ferings of his kind, I draw the happiest presages of the future character of the noble youth who is the subject f this note; and I am assured by one who knows him, that his conduct on this occasion was exactly what might have been expected from the generous philan- thropy of his Lordship's heart. 176 NOTES. Note (0>, page 154. Thus the poor mariner , his traffic o'er,-*- The following very beautiful illustration of these emotions, occurs in the delightful " Pleasures ef Hope." * But Hope can here her midnight vigils keep, And sing to chai m the spirit of the deep : Swift as yon streamer lights the starry pole, Her visions warm the watchman's pensive soul ; His native hills that rise in happier climes, The grot that heard his song of other times, His cottage home, his bark of slender sail, His glassy lake, and broom wood- blossom 'd vale, Rush on his thought, he sweeps before the wind, Treads the lov'd shore he sigh'd to leave behind ; Meets at each step a friend's familiar face> And flies at last to Helen's long embrace j Wipes from her cheek the rapture-speaking tear, And clasps, with many a sigh, his children dear While long-neglected, but at length caress'd, His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest, Points to the master's eyes (where'er they roam) His wistful face; and whines a welcome home." NOTES. 177 The subsequent tender etching from "The Plea- sures of Memory," forms aaother picture in keeping with the former." " Th* adventurous boy, that asks his little share, And hies from home with many a gossip's pray'r, Turns on the neighbouring hills once more to set The dear abode of peace and privacy ; And as he turns, the thatch among the trees, The smoke's blue wreath ascending with the breeze, The village common, spotted white with sheep, The church-yard yews, round which his fathers sleep; All rouse reflection's sadly pleasing train, And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again." For various instances of the Social Principle amongst Mariners, I recommend the reader to Captain Ingle- field's Narrative- Captain Bligh's on the loss of the Bounty The loss of the Guardian-The loss of the Halsewell Indiaman The preservation of Captain Stewart, &c. The subject might derive more interest also by con- sidering cases of FIRE 5 in which many lives have been P 173 NOTES. generously, some gloriously, sacrificed on the pure impulse of the social duty ; forcing the affectionate Friend and the tender Parent into the flames, solely from the hope of saving a da i ling object, without the remotest consideration of the great Principle of Self- Preservation. :iim*i* / - .nfim am'*'" '' Buty : P.'nuct! b) j.RadvLm;, Angel Hill. 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recalL : 4Nov'-' " IN STACKS fiPT 2 1 IQCn Uu 1 * 1 IgbU 4Nov'60Et REcra LD , f. f* t: J? * ** DEC < tabu r- 11942 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY