Classic Poem

“Now, mark the words these dying lips impart,
And wear this grand memorial round your heart:
All that inhabit ocean, air, or earth,
From ONE ETERNAL SIRE derive their birth.
The Hand that built the palace of the sky
Form'd the light wings that decorate a fly:
The Power that wheels the circling planets round
Rears every infant floweret on the ground;
That Bounty which the mightiest beings share
Feeds the least gnat that gilds the evening air.
Thus all the wild inhabitants of woods,
Children of air, and tenants of the floods;
All, all are equal, independent, free,
And all the heirs of immortality!
For all that live and breathe have once been men,
And, in succession, will be such again:
Even you, in turn, that human shape must change,
And through ten thousand forms of being range.

“Ah! then, refrain your brethren's blood to spill,
And, till you can create, forbear to kill!
Oft as a guiltless fellow-creature dies,
The blood of innocence for vengeance cries:
Even grim, rapacious savages of prey,
Presume not, save in self-defence, to slay;
What, though to heaven their forfeit lives they owe,
Hath heaven commission'd thee to deal the blow?
Crush not the feeble, inoffensive worm,
Thy sister's spirit wears that humble form!
Why should thy cruel arrow smite yon bird?
In him thy brother's plaintive song is heard.
When the poor, harmless kid, all trembling, lies,
And begs his little life with infant cries,
Think, ere you take the throbbing victim's breath,
You doom a dear, an only child, to death.
When at the ring the beauteous heifer stands,
—Stay, monster! stay those parricidal hands;
Canst thou not, in that mild dejected face,
The sacred features of thy mother trace?
When to the stake the generous bull you lead,
Tremble,—ah, tremble,—lest your father bleed.
Let not your anger on your dog descend,
The faithful animal was once your friend;
The friend whose courage snatch'd you from the grave,
When wrapp'd in flames or sinking in the wave.
—Rash, impious youth! renounce that horrid knife,
Spare the sweet antelope!—ah, spare—thy wife!
In the meek victim's tear-illumined eyes,
See the soft image of thy consort rise;
Such as she is, when by romantic streams,
Her spirit greets thee in delightful dreams;
Not as she look'd, when blighted in her bloom;
Not as she lies, all pale in yonder tomb;
That mournful tomb, where all thy joys repose!
That hallow'd tomb, where all thy griefs shall close.

“While yet I sing, the weary king of light
Resigns his sceptre to the queen of night;
Unnumber'd orbs of living fire appear,
And roll in glittering grandeur o'er the sphere.
Perhaps the soul, released from earthly ties,
A thousand ages hence may mount the skies;
Through suns and planets, stars, and systems range,
In each new forms assume, relinquish, change;
From age to age, from world to world aspire,
And climb the scale of being higher and higher:
But who these awful mysteries dare explore?
Pause, O my soul! and tremble and adore.

“There is a Power, all other powers above,
Whose name is Goodness, and His nature Love;
Who call'd the infant universe to light,
From central nothing and circumfluent night.
On His great providence all worlds depend,
As trembling atoms to their centre tend;
In nature's face His glory shines confess'd,
She wears His sacred image on her breast;
His spirit breathes in every living soul;
His bounty feeds, his presence fills the whole;
Though seen, invisible—though felt, unknown;
All that exist, exist in Him alone.
But who the wonders of His hand can trace
Through the dread ocean of unfathom'd space?
When from the shore we lift our fainting eyes,
Where boundless scenes of Godlike grandeur rise;
Like sparkling atoms in the noontide rays,
Worlds, stars, and suns, and universes blaze.
Yet these transcendent monuments that shine,
Eternal miracles of skill divine,
These, and ten thousand more, are only still
The shadow of his power, the transcript of his will.