The Sun, asham'd, extinguishes the day:
All Nature suffers with her suffering Lord.
Amidst this war of elements, serene,

And as the sun-shine brow of Patience, calm,
He dies without a groan, and smiles in death.
Shall martyrs, virgins, nay, thy Saviour bleed
To teach thee patience; and yet bleed in vain?
Forbid it, Reason; and forbid it, Heav'n.
No; suffer: and, in suffering, rejoice.
Patience endureth all, and hopeth all.

Hope is her daughter then. Let Hope distill
Her cordial spirit, as Hybla-honey sweet,
And healing as the drops of Gilead-balm.
Cease to repine, as those who have no hope;
Nor let despair approach thy darkest hour.
Despair! that triple-death! th' imperial plague!
Th' exterminating angel of th' accurst,
And sole disease of which the damn'd are sick,
Kindling a fever hotter than their Hell-
O pluck me from Despair, white-handed Hope!
O interpose thy spear and silver shield
Betwixt my bosom and the fiend! detrude
This impious monster to primeval Hell;
To its own dark domain: but light my soul,
Imp'd with thy glittering wings, to scenes of joy,
To health and life, for health and life are thine:
And fire imagination with the skies.

But whence this confidence of hope! In thee, And in thy blood, my Jesus! (Bow, O Earth! Heav'n bends beneath the name, and all its sons, The Hierarchy! drop low the prostrate knee, And sink, in humble wise, upon the stars.) Yes, on thy blood and name my hope depends. My hope? nay, worlds on worlds depend on thee; Live in thy death, from thy sepulchre rise. Thy influential vigour reinspires

This feeble frame; dispells the shade of death; And bids me throw myself on God in prayer.

A Christian soul is God's beloved house;
And pray'r the incense which perfumes the soul:
Let armies then of supplications rise,
Besiege the golden gates of Heav'n, and force,
With holy violence, a blessing down
In living streams. If Hezekiah's pray'r
The Sun arrested in his prone career,
And bade the shadow ten degrees return
On Ahaz-dial, whirling back the day:
Pour out thyself, my soul! with fervent zeal,
With over-flowing ardour, and with faith
Unwav'ring. To assist me, and to swell
My fainting spirits to sublime desires,
Wou'd Taylor2 from his starry throne descend,
How fear wou'd brighten! by his sacred aid,
To live were happiness, and gain to die.-
No: let him still adorn his starry throne,
Well-merited by labours so divine:

For, lo! the man of God, and friend of man,
Theron, the purest breast, and warmest heart,
Flies on the wings of charity and love
To join me in the saving-task, and raise
My weaker pow'rs with his abundant zeal;
Pure, sweet, and glowing as the incens'd fires,
Of, Solomon, thy golden-altar, fann'd
By wings of cherubims into a flame;
Till on the skies the aromatic gale
In pyramids of fragrance softly stole,

A grateful offering to the throne of Grace.
Still, tho' I feel these succours from the skies,

2 Bishop Jeremy Taylor.

In operation mighty! still remain
Inferior aids behind: terrestrial stores
Medicinal: the instruments of God.
For God created the physician! God
Himself on Earth, our great physician! spread
O'er sick and weak, shadowing, his healing wings:
Each miracle a cure!-Before Disease,
Offspring of Sin, infested human-kind,
In Paradise, the vegetable seeds

Sprung from their Maker's hand, invigorate-strong
With medicine. He foresaw our future ills;
Foreseeing, he provided ample cure;
Fossils, and simples: Solomon, thy theme,
Nature's historian; wisest of the wise!
Tho' Paradise be lost, the tree of life

In med'cine blooms; then pluck its healing fruits,
And with thanksgiving eat; and, eating, live.
Ev'n pagan wisdom bade her sons adore,
As one, the god of physic and the day,
Fountain of vegetation and of life,
Apollo, ever blooming, ever young,
And from his art immortal! Thus, of yore,
The prime of human race from Heav'n deduc'd
The bright original of physic's pow'r:
And, nor unjustly, deem'd that he who sav'd
Millions from death, himself should never die.

An instrument of various pipes and tubes,
Veins, arteries, and sinews, organiz'd,
Man, when in healthy tune, harmonious wakes
The breath of melody, in vocal praise,
Delighting Earth and Heav'n! discordant, oft,
As accident, or time, or fate prevail,
This human-organ scarce the bellows heaves
Of vital-respiration; or in pain,
With pauses sad: what art divine shall tune
To order and refit this shatter'd frame?
What finger's touch into a voice again?
Or music re-inspire? Who, but the race
Of Paan? who but physic's saving sons?
A Ratcliff, Frewin, Metcalf or a Friend?-
But something yet, beyond the kindly skill
Of Paan's sons, disease, like mine, demands;
Nepenthe to the soul, as well as life.

O for a mother's watchful tenderness,
And father's venerable care!-But they,
In life immortal, gather endless joys,
Reward of charity, of innocence,

Of pleasing manners, and a life unblam'd!
The tears of poverty and friendship oft
Their modest tombs bedew, where Eden's flood,
(Ituna 'clep'd by bards of old renown,
Purpled with Saxon and with British blood)
Laves the sweet vale, that first my prattling muse
Provok'd to numbers, broken as the ruins
Of Roman towers which deck its lofty banks,
And shine more beauteous by decay.-But hark!
What music glads my ear? 'Tis Theron's voice,
Theron a father, mother; both, a friend!-
Pain flies before his animating touch:
The gentle pressure of his cordial hand,
A burning mountain from my bosom heaves!
What wonders, sacred Friendship, flow from thee!
One period from a friend enlivens more,
Than all Hippocrates and Galen's tomes,
Than all the med'cines they unfold. 1 feel
Myself renew'd! not only health, but youth,
Rolls the brisk tide, and sparkles at my heart:
As the live-atoms of Campanian wines
Dance in the virgin crystal, and o'erlook
With glorifying foam the nectar'd brim;

Smiling, and lending smiles to social wit,
The jocund hearth, and hospitable board.
Friendship is a religion, from the first
The second-best: it points, like that, to Heav'n,
And almost antidates, on Earth, its bliss.
But Vice and Folly never Friendship knew;
Whilst Wisdom grows by Friendship still more
wise.

Her fetters, are a strong defence; her chains,
A robe of glory; Ophir gold, her bands;
And he who wears them, wears a crown of joy.
Friendship's the steel, which struck emits the
sparks

Of candour, peace, benevolence, and zeal;
Spreading their glowing seeds-a holy fire
Where honour beams on honour, truth on truth;
Bright as the eyes of angels and as pure.
An altar whence two gentle-loving hearts
Mount to the skies in one conspiring blaze
Aud spotless union. 'Tis the nectar-stream
Which feeds and elevates seraphic love-
Health is disease, life death, without a friend.

A horn, in which if he do once but blow, The noise thereof shall trouble men so sore, That all both stout and faint shall fly therefro, So strange a noise was never heard before. Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, translated by sir John Harrington, b. xv. st. 10. With this horn Astolpho affrighted the Amazons. See book xx. st. 60, &c. and even Rogero, Bradamant, &c. in dissolving the enchanted palace, b. xxii. st. 18, &c. Drives away the harpies from Senapo, b. xxxiii. st. 114, &c.

NOTES AND ALLUSIONS.

Page 46. As once thy breathing harvest, Cadmus, sprung.

Cadmus is reported by the poets to have slain a monstrous serpent in Boeotia, at the command of Minerva, and sowed its teeth in a field, which produced an host of armed soldiers; who, fighting, slew one another. See Ovid. Met. 1. iii. Suidas, Pausanias, &c. It is said, that he sowed serpents teeth, and that soldiers in armour sprung up from them; because, as Bochart observes, in the Phoenician language, to express men armed with brazen darts and spears of brass, they made use of words, which might be translated" armed with the teeth of a serpent."

P. 46. Yet Fancy's mimic works, &c.

The following lines upon delirious dreams may appear very extravagant to a reader, who never experienced the disorders which sickness causes in the brain; but the author thinks that he has rather softened than exaggerated the real description, as he found them operate on his own imagination at that time.

P. 46. From Hiconian cliffs devolv'd, &c. Sir G. Wheeler, in his voyages, has given a very beautiful description of an hermitage on the borders of Mount Helicon, belonging to the convent of Saint Luke the hermit, not the evangelist, called Stiriotes, from his dwelling in those deserts. See Whecler's Journey into Greece, fol. b. iv. p. 325.

P. 46. Warbled to Doric reeds, &c. Those different instruments are designed to express the several parts of poetry, to which they were adapted, viz. pastoral, ode, heroic, &c.

P. 46. Hark, how the anvils, &c.

See Hom. Ilias, b. xviii. Virg. Æn. b. viii.
P. 46,
Astolpho's horn.

THE RECOVERY.

BOOK IV.

Thou hast delivered my soul from death, and my feet from falling, that I may walk before God PSALMS. in the light of the living.

ARGUMENT.

Reflections. Sickness at the worst. Hopes of recovery cast on Heaven alone. Prospect of futurity at this juncture. Guardian-angels hymn to Mercy. Description of her. She sends Hygeia to the well of life; both described. Her descent. The effects. Abatement of the distemper. Apostrophe to sleep. Recovery of sight; and pleasure flowing from thence. Health by degrees restored. Comparison between sickness and health in regard to the body and mind.

SWIFT, too, thy tale is told: a sound, a name,
No more than Lucian, Butler, or Scarron.
Fantastic humour dropp'd the feeling sense,
Her empire less'ning by his fall. The shades
Of frolic Rabelais, and him of Spain,
Madrid's facetious glory, join his ghost;
Triumvirate of Laughter!-Mirth is mad;
The loudest languishing into a sigh:
And Laughter shakes itself into decay.

"Lord! what is man?" the prophet well might ask;

We all may ask, "Lord! what is mortal man?"
So changeable his being, with himself
Dissimilar; the rainbow of an hour!

A change of colours, transient through his life,
Brightens or languishes ;-then fades to air.
Ev'n ere an artful spider spins a line
Of metaphysic texture, man's thin thread
of life is broken: how analogous
Their parallel of lines! slight, subtle, vain.

Man, in a little hour's contracted round
Perplexes reason: now to triumph swell'd,
To joyous exultations, to a blaze
Of ecstasy; and now depress'd, again,
And drooping into scenes of death and woe.

That sudden flow of spirits, bright and strong,
Which play'd in sprightly sallies round my heart;
Was it a gleam, forewarning me from Heav'n,
Of quick-approaching fate? As tapers mount
Expiring into wide-diffusive flame,

Give one broad glare, into the socket sink,
And sinking disappear.—It must be so!-
The soul, prophetic of its voyage, descry'd
The blissful shore, exulting on the wing,
In a glad flutter: then, o'erwhelm'd with joy,
She warn'd her old companion of her flight,
(The feeble tenement of mould'ring clay)
Who sadden'd at their parting.-Yes,-I feel
Thy leaden hand, O Death! it presses hard,
It weighs the faculties of motion down,
Inactive as the foot of a dull rock,

And drags me to thy dusty chains: the wheels
Of life are fast'ned to the grave, nor whirl,
Longer, the fiery chariot on.

The war,

The struggle for eternity begins.
Eternity! illimitable, vast,

Incomprehensible! for Heav'n and Hell,
Within her universal womb, profound,

Are center'd.-Sleep or death are on my heart:
Swims heavily my brain:-My senses reel.
What scenes disclose themselves! What fields
of joy!

What rivers of delight! What golden bow'rs!
Sweetly oppress'd with beatific views,
I hear angelic-instruments, I see
Primeval ardours, and essential forms;
The sons of light, but of created light,
All energy, the diligence of God!
Might I but join them! Lend your glitt'ring wings,
Waft me, O quickly waft me to yon crown,
Bright with the flaming roses of the zone
Sidereal: gracious, they, beck'ning, smile,
They smile me to the skies! Hope leads the way
Mounting I spring to seize!--What fury shakes
Her fiery sword, and intercepts the stars?
Ha! Amartia? Conscience, Conscience sends
Her griesly form, to blast me at my end.
Behold! she points to burning rocks, to waves
Sulphureous, molten lead, and boiling gulphs,
Tempestuous with everlasting fire.-

'Las horrible!-O) save me from myself!-
O save me, Jesu!-Ha! a burst of light
Blends me with the empyreum's azure tide,
While Faith, triumphant, swells the trump of God,
And shouting, "Where's thy victory, O Grave?
And where, O Death, thy sting?" I see her spread
Her saving banner o'er my soul (the cross!)
And call it to its peers. Thick crowds of day,
Immaculate, involve me in their streams,
And bathe my spirit, whiten'd for the sky.
While on this isthmus of my fate I lie,
Jutting into eternity's wide sea,

A ad leaning on this habitable globe,
The verge of either world! dubious of life,
Dubious, alike, of death; to Mercy thus,
Inspirited with supplicating zeal,

My guardian-angel rais'd his potent pray'r,
(For angels minister to man, intent

On offices of gentleness and love.)

64

O lift thy servant from the vale of death,
Now groveling in the dust, into the fields
Of comfort, and the pastures green of health.
Hear, Mercy, sweetest daughter of the skies!
If e'er thy servant to the poor his soul
Drew out, and taught the fatherless to sing;
If e'er by pity warm'd, and not by pride,
He cloth'd the naked, and the hungry fed;
If e'er distress, and misery, forlorn,
Deceiv'd his check, and stole his untaught tear,
An humble drop of thy celestial dew!
Hear, Mercy, sweetest daughter of the skies.

"Sprung from the bosom of eternal bliss,
Thy goodness reaches farther than the grave;
And near the gates of Hell extends thy sway,
Omnipotent! All, save the cursed crew
Infernal, and the black-rebellious host
Of Lucifer, within thy sweet domain
Feed on ambrosia, and may hope the stars.
Hear, Mercy, sweetest daughter of the skies.
By thee, the great physician from the bed
Of darkness call'd the sick, the blind, the lame;
He burst the grave's relentless bars by thee,
And spoke the dead to life and bloom again.
His miracles, thy work; their glory, thine:
Then, O thou dearest attribute of God!
Thy saving health to this thy servant lend!
Hear, Mercy, sweetest daughter of the skies!"

Inclin'd upon a dewy-skirted cloud Purpled with light, and dropping fatness down, Plenty and bliss on man, with looks as mild As ev'ning suns (when flow'ry-footed May Leads on the jocund Hours, when Love himschf Flutters in green) effusing heart-felt joy Abundant, Mercy shone with sober grace, And majesty at once with sweetness mix'd Ineffable. A rainbow o'er her head, The covenant of God, betok'ning peace 'Twixt Heav'n and Earth, its florid arch display'd, High-bended by th' Almighty's glorious hand; The languish of the dove upon her eyes In placid radiance melted, from the throne Of Grace infus'd and fed with light: her smiles Expansive cheer'd the undetermin'd tracks Of all creation, from th' ethereal cope, August with moving fires, down to the shades Infernal, and the reign of darkness drear. Ev'n men refine to angels from her gaze, Gracious, invigorating, full of Heav'n!

This daughter of the Lamb, to fervent pray'rs
And intercession, opes her ready ear,
Compassionate; and to Hygeia thus:
"Hygeia, hie thee to the well of life;
There dip thy fingers; touch his head and breast;
Three drops into his mouth infuse, unseen,
Save by the eye of Faith: he yonder lies--
Descend, and take the ev'ning's western wing."

She said. Hygeia bow'd; and bowing, fill'd
The circumambient air with od'rous streams,
Pure essence of ambrosia! Not the breath
Of Lebanon, from cedar alleys blown,
Of Lebanon, with aromatic gales
Luxuriant, spikenard, aloes, myrrh and balm;
Nor the wise eastern monarch's garden vy'd

Enamour'd, call'd upon the south to fan
Its beds of spices, and her bosom cool,
Panting with languishment and love-sick fires.
Forth from th' eternal throne the well of life,
Pouring its crystal, laves the streets of God,

E

So, full and frequent, may the crimson fields With poppies blush, nor feel a Tarquin's hand. So may the west-wind's sigh, th' murm'ring brook, The melody of birds, Ianthe's lute,

And music of the spheres, be all the sounds
That dare intrude on thy devoted hour.
Nor Boreas bluster, nor the thunder roar,
Nor screech-owl flap his wing, nor spirit yell,
As 'neath the trembling of the Moon he walks,
Within the circle of thy still domain.

He comes! he comes! the reconciling pow'r
Of pain, vexation, care, and anguish comes!
He hovers in the lazy air:-he melts,
With honey-heaviness, my senses down.-

Extinct and smother'd in unwieldy clay
Scarce animated: and (O blessing!) now
I seem to tread the winds; to overtake
The empty eagle in her early chase,
Or nimble-trembling dove, from preyful beak,
In many a rapid, many a cautious round,
Wheeling precipitant: I leave behind,
Exulting o'er its aromatic hills,

restor'd

To my desiring eyes? their lids, unglew'd,
Admit the long-lost sight, now streaming in
Painfully clear!-O check the rapid gleam
With shading silk, 'till the weak visual orb,
Stronger and stronger, dares imbibe the Sun,
Nor, wat'ring, twinkles at unfolded day.
As, where, in Lapland, Night collects her reign,
Oppressive, over half the rounded year
Uninterrupted with one struggling beam;
Young Orra-Moor, in furry spoils enroll'd,
Shagged and warm, first spies th' imperfect blush
Of op'ning light, exulting; scarce her eyes
The lustre bear, tho' faint; but, wid'ning fast
Th' unbounded tide of splendour covers, fair,
Th' expanded hemisphere; and fills her sight
With gladness, while her heart, warm-leaping,
burns.

Sight, all-expressive! Tho' the feeling sense
Thrills from Ianthe's hand; at Handel's lyre
Tingles the ear; tho' smell from blossom'd beans
Arabian spirit gathers; and the draught,
Sparkling from Burgundy's exalted vines,
Streams nectar on the palate: yet, O Sight!
Weak their sensations, when compar'd with thee.
Without thee, Nature lies unmeaning gloom.
Whatever smiles on Earth, or shines in Heav'n,
From star of Venus to Adonis flow'r;
Whatever Spring can promise: Summer warm
To rich maturity; gay Autumn roll
Into the lap of Plenty, or her horn;
Winter's majestic horrors;-all are thine.
All varying in order's pleasing round,
la regular confusion grateful all!

And now progressive health, with kind repair,
My fever-weaken'd joints and languid limbs
New-brace. Live vigour and auxiliar'd nerves
Sinew the freshen'd frame in bands of steel.
As in the trial of the furnace ore,
From baser dregs refin'd, and drossy scum,
Flames more refulgent, and admits the stamp
Of majesty to dignify the gold,

Cæsar or George! the human body, thus,
Enamel'd, not deform'd, from sickness' rage
More manly features borrows, and a grace
Severe, yet worthier of its sovereign form.
The patriarch of Uz, son of the Morn,
Envy'd of Lucifer, by sores and blanes
Sharply improv'd, to fairer honours rose;
Less his beginning blest than latter end.
How late a tortur'd lump of baleful pain,
The soul immerg'd in one inactive mass
Of breathing blanes, each elegance of sense,
Each intellectual spark and fiery seed
Of reason, mem❜ry, judgment, taste and wit,

Ranging infinitude, beyond the stretch
Of Newton's ken, reformer of the spheres,
And, gaining on the Heav'ns, enjoys his home!
The winter of disease all pass'd away,

The spring of health, in bloomy pride, calls forth
Embosom'd bliss, of rosy-winged praise
The rising incense, the impassion'd glance
Of gratitude, the pant of honour, quick
With emulating zeal; the florid wish
For sacred happiness, and cordial glow
From conscious virtue felt: all the sweet train
Of vernal solitude's refining walks,

Best gift of Heav'n, and source of nameless joys!

NOTES AND ALLUSIONS.

Page 49.

P. 50.

-The sons of light.

Light is the first-born of all creatures, and it is commonly observed that the angels were created at the same period of time. St. Austin thinks them meant under Fiat lux, Let there be light: De Civitate Dei, 1. xi. c. 9. This indeed is only conjectural, and we have no article of the apostles creed which directs upon any considerations of angels; because perhaps it exceeds the faculties of men to understand their nature, and it may not conduce much to our practical edification to know them. Yet however this observation may serve to illustrate that beautiful passage in the book of Job: "When the morning-stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." - To pristine white relume. White has been accounted in all ages the peculiar tincture of innocence, and white vestments worn by persons delegated for sacred offices, &c. When our Saviour was transfigured before his disciples, his raiment became shining, exceeding white as snow, Mark, chap. ix. 3. When he ascended into Heaven, the angels descended in white apparel, Acts i. 10. And to the spouse of the lamb was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white, which is the righteousness of the saints, Rev. xix. ver. 8, 14. Hence the custom of the primitive church of clothing the persons baptized in white garments. Inde parens sacro ducens de fonte sacerdos Infantes, niveo corpore, mente, habitu, Paulinus, epist. xii.

The heathens paid likewise a great regard to white: Color albus præcipuè Deo charus est. Cicero de Leg. lib. ii.