Classic Poem

Ah! knew he but his happiness, of men
Not the least happy he, who, free from broils
And base ambition, vain and bustling, pomp,
Amid a friendly cure, and competence,
Tastes the pure pleasures of parochial life.
What though no crowd of clients, at his gate,
To falsehood and injustice bribe his tongue,
And flatter into guilt? — what though no bright
And gilded prospects lure ambition on
To legislative pride, or chair of state?
What though no golden dreams entice his mind
To burrow, with the mole, in dirt and mire?
What though no splendid villa, Edened round
With gardens of enchantment, walks of state,
And all the grandeur of superfluous wealth,
Invite the passenger to stay his steed,
And ask the liveried footboy. " Who dwells here? "
What though no swarms, around his sumptuous board,
Of soothing flatterers, humming in the shine
Of opulence, and honey from its flowers
Devouring, till their time arrives to sting,
Inflate his mind; his virtues round the year
Repeating, and his faults, with microscope
Inverted, lessen, till they steal from sight? —
Yet from the dire temptations these present
His state is free; temptations, few can stem;
Temptations, by whose sweeping torrent hurled
Down the dire steep of guilt, unceasing fall
Sad victims, thousands of the brightest minds
That time's dark reign adorn; minds, to whose grasp
Heaven seems most freely offered; to man's eye,
Most hopeful candidates for angels' joys.
His lot, that wealth, and power, and pride forbids,
Forbids him to become the tool of fraud,
Injustice, misery, ruin: saves his soul
From all the needless labors, griefs, and cares,
That avarice and ambition agonize;
From those cold nerves of wealth, that, palsied, feel
No anguish but its own; and ceaseless lead
To thousand meannesses, as gain allures.
Though oft compelled to meet the gross attack
Of shameless ridicule and towering pride,
Sufficient good is his; good, real, pure,
With guilt unmingled. Rarely forced from home,
Around his board his wife and children smile;
Communion sweetest, nature here can give,
Each fond endearment, office of delight,
With love and duty blending. Such the joy
My bosom oft has known. His, too, the task
To rear the infant plants that bud around;
To ope their little minds to truth's pure light;
To take them by the hand, and lead them on
In that straight, narrow road where virtue walks;
To guard them from a vain, deceiving world,
And point their course to realms of promised life.
His, too, the esteem of those who weekly hear
His words of truth divine; unnumbered acts
Of real love attesting to his eye
Their filial tenderness. Where'er he walks,
The friendly welcome and inviting smile
Wait on his steps, and breathe a kindred joy.
Oft too in friendliest association joined,
He greets his brethren, with a flowing heart,
Flowing with virtue; all rejoiced to meet,
And all reluctant parting; every aim,
Benevolent, aiding with purpose kind;
While, seasoned with unblemished cheerfulness,
Far distant from the tainted mirth of vice,
Their hearts disclose each contemplation sweet
Of things divine; and blend in friendship pure,
Friendship sublimed by piety and love.
All virtue's friends are his: the good, the just,
The pious, to his house their visits pay,
And converse high hold of the true, the fair,
The wonderful, the moral, the divine:
Of saints and prophets, patterns bright of truth,
Lent to a world of sin, to teach mankind
How virtue in that world can live and shine;
Of learning's varied realms; of Nature's works;
And that blessed book which gilds man's darksome
With light from heaven; of blessed Messiah's throne
And kingdom; prophecies divine fulfilled,
And prophecies more glorious yet to come
In renovated days; of that bright world,
And all the happy trains which that bright world
Inhabit, whither virtue's sons are gone:
While God the whole inspires, adorns, exalts;
The source, the end, the substance, and the soul.
His too the task, the blessed, the useful task,
To invigor order, justice, law, and rule;
Peace to extend, and bid contention cease;
To teach the words of life; to lead mankind
Back from the wild of guilt and brink of wo
To virtue's house and family; faith, hope,
And joy to inspire; to warm the soul
With love to God and man; to cheer the sad,
To fix the doubting, rouse the languid heart;
The wandering to restore; to spread with down
The thorny bed of death; console the poor,
Departing mind, and aid its lingering wing.
To him her choicest pages Truth expands,
Unceasing, where the soul-entrancing scenes
Poetic fiction boasts are real all:
Where beauty, novelty, and grandeur wear
Superior charms, and moral worlds unfold
Sublimities transporting and divine.
Not all the scenes Philosophy can boast,
Though them with nobler truths he ceaseless blends,
Compare with these. They, as they found the mind,
Still leave it; more informed, but not more wise:
These wiser, nobler, better, make the man.
Thus every happy mean of solid good
His life, his studies, and profession yield.
With motives hourly new, each rolling day
Allures, through wisdom's path and truth's fair field,
His feet to yonder skies. Before him heaven
Shines bright, the scope sublime of all his prayers,
The meed of every sorrow, pain, and toil.