Classic Poem

I.

W HEN Heav'n with a vindictive Frown
Throws an aspiring Monarch down,
The trembling Nation takes th' Alarm.
And when we view the wide Champaign
Soak'd with the Blood of Heroes slain,
The softest Passions wake, and every Bosom warm.

II.

The softest Passions wake and mourn,
When Sons of Honour, nobly born,
Are sold for Slaves in barb'rous Climes.
The Wretch that on the Gibbet hangs
Moves in us sympathethic Pangs,
Tho' self-destroy'd he dies for his own scarlet Crimes.

III.

Th' importunate and helpless Poor,
Naked and famish'd at our Door;
The Widow and the Fatherless;
The melancholy House where Pain,
Sickness and Death and Sorrows reign,
Dissolve the gen'rous Heart to softest Tenderness.

IV.

But from our Hearts if Death should rend
Some darling Relative or Friend,
How we bewail the mould'ring Dust!
Our Life is Grief, our Breath is Sighs,
Our Days are Glooms, and from our Eyes
Torrents of ever-flowing Sorrows burst.

V.

But what are Thrones of Monarchs sunk,
Or Fields with Blood of Heroes drunk,
Or Lords in barb'rous Climes confin'd!
Ah! what are Lumps of breathing Clay,
That into Ruin pine away,
What, when compar'd with one immortal Mind.

VI.

Th' immortal Mind! a heav'nly Spark,
Lost and extinguish'd in the Dark!
By Sin seduc'd, by Sin undone! — —
Let all superfluous Sorrows cease;
And Deluges of Tears, for this,
For this alone! gush forth and unremitted run!

VII.

Souls form'd for Immortality,
Th' Eternal Father's Progency,
Forgetful of their noble Birth,
Despise the Great Paternal M IND ,
So bright, so fair, so good, so kind,
And loose their heav'nly Essence in ignoble Earth!

VIII.

Souls ransom'd by the vital Blood
And Death of an incarnate G OD ,
Insult his dying Groans and Cries;
And still, remerseless, dare commit
The Sins that pierc'd His Hands and Feet,
And rack'd his tortur'd Soul with twinging Agonies!

IX.

The mild, propitious, heav'nly Dove
Defends from his own Realms of Love,
To strive with unrelenting Souls:
In vain; — the Rebels love their Chains,
And Sin, the Tyrant, Sov'relgn reigns,
And ev'ry heav'nly Tendency controuls.

X.

The Voice of Mercy sounds aloud,
And offers a Redeemer's Blood,
Eternal Joys, and heav'nly Crowns:
But still, with stiff unyielding Neck,
The gracious Offer they reject,
And rather perish of their mortal Wounds.

XI.

Eager with full Career they run
In Chafe of Pleasures, 'til undone,
Nor pause at Mercy's loudest Call:
Dancing with inadvertent Feet
Round the dire Borders of the Pit,
'Til helpless, unexpected, down they fall.

XII.

There are (delightful Thought!) a Few
Who the unbeaten Path pursue,
That leads to purer Joys on high:
Transporting Sight! but Oh! how rare!
While mournful Prospects every where
Glare on our Eyes, and Thousands round us die!

XIII.

And shall they unlamented die! — —
Come every tender Heart and Eye,
Join in the Lamentation, join!
From both my Eyes let Rivers flow,
And Floods of sympathetic Woe
Gush from this adamantine Heart of mine.

XIV.

Ye Sons of Levi! Sacred Train!
That spend your Breath and Strength in vain,
That toil and sow, but seldom reap;
See thoughtless Mortals, in your Eye,
Deaf to your loudest Warnings, die!
Behold the mournful! Scene, ye sacred Tribe! and weep!

XV.

See your dear Fellow-Men undone,
While shock'd, astonish'd, you look on,
But can, alas, yield no Relief!
Yet sure you may indulge your Tears,
And ev'n o'er those that stop their Ears,
Vent your full Hearts in Streams of useless Grief.

XVI.

Come ev'ry tender-hearted Saint,
Give all the mournful Passions vent,
Or are your Bowels form'd of Stone?
See how ungrateful Worms despise
J ESUS the Darling of your Eyes!
See the dear Souls you love by their own Hands undone!

XVII

Ye gen'rous Souls! whose Bosoms bleed
O'er some dear Creature cold and dead,
Some dearer Self torn from your Heart;
Forbear your useless Tears, and turn
The Stream from them, and only mourn
The cruel Hands that kill their own immortal Part.

XVIII.

Come all ye Sons of Adam , join;
Mingle your flowing Griefs with mine;
Let Groans tumultuous heave your Lungs.
But you alas! refuse your Tears;
And waste them on inferior Cares;
Or lull yourselves to Ease with Luxury and Song.

XIX.

Angels! that charm the list'ning Skies
With everlasting Harmonies,
Say, Have Ye ne'er a mourning String?
O! while your Songs transport the Poles,
Raise one sad Note for Kindred-Souls,
Your Kindred lost to you, revolted from your King!

XX.

Fountain of Day and cheerful Light
Why should the Gloomy Sons of Night,
The Radiance of thy Beams abuse?
The Mourner's sable Dress assume,
And wrap the Globe in Midnight Gloom,
Why should they see the Light who Works of Darkness chuse?

XXI.

Ye Lamps of Heav'n that nightly burn,
O'er brighter Flames extinguish'd mourn,
As wakeful you survey the World.
Regent of Night! Resplendent Moon!
Bewail the Scenes of Lewdness done,
While thro' the silver Shades thy ample Orb is whirl'd.

XXII.

Ye Winds that gently fan the Air,
Or ravage in fierce Tempests there,
Expend your Breath in Groans and Sighs:
Disgusting Joys of heav'nly Kind,
Immortal Spirits feed on Wind,
And eager pant for airy Vanities.

XXIII.

Ye Thunders groan from Cloud to Cloud,
Roar your majestic Sorrows loud,
O'er Worms that scorn J EHOVAH'S Voice.
Tempests, and Hurricanes and Storms,
Bewail in all your dreadful Forms,
The more pernicious Storm that Human Kind destroys.

XXIV.

Ye Clouds that lightly float in Air,
Or roll in heavy Oceans there,
Weep on a wretched World below.
Soft Dews and fruitful Show'rs, bewail
Th' ungrateful Plants, that constant feel
The Show'rs of Grace distil, but never fruitful grow.

XXV.

Ye Rivers rapid, rough and strong,
And Streams that gently glide along,
And in Meandrine Circuits flow;
Exhaust in Tears your liquid Store,
And murmur Grief; or swell and pour
Your useless Chanels dry in Deluges of Woe.

XXVI.

And thou immense, majestic Main,
Let not thy Billows roll in vain;
But swell each Billow to a Tear:
Mortals the Pleasures disesteem
That roll their plenteous Chrystal Stream
In Paradise; and thirst for sordid Pleasures here.

XXVII.

Sweet Mourner! melancholy Dove,
And all ye Songsters of the Grove,
Let tuneful Sorrows swell your Throats;
You warble grateful Songs of Praise,
And join with heav'nly Choirs to raise
Your Maker's Name; but Mortals will not join the Notes.

XXVIII.

Ye fierce, rapacious Beasts of Prey,
That in the horrid Desert stray,
Thro' the rough Wild your Sorrows roar:
Men put your Savage Natures on,
Renounce the Mildness of their own,
And Tyger-like, their Fellow-Men devour.

XXIX.

Ye Cattle that on Mountains seed,
Or graze in the luxuriant Mead,
Low forth your Sorrows as you roam:
Lament the wretched Animal,
Fashion'd by Nature rational,
Degraded by himself, and one of you become.

XXX.

Let all Things mourn: Let Rocks and Stones
Learn Sympathy, and burst to Groans,
And senseless Marble learn to melt:
Marble will weep, and Rocks relent
Sooner than stubborn Hearts repent,
And contrite wail their own oppressive Guilt.

XXXI.

O Thou All-Good, Paternal Mind!
Pity the Crowds of Human Kind,
Whose Hearts are hearden'd from Thy Fear.
The Madness of the Wretch controul,
Who ruins his immortal Soul,
Without acute Remorse, without a pitying Tear.

XXXII.

J ESUS ! Thy tender Griefs did stream
O'er Obstinate Jerusalem ,
Thy dying Breath implor'd " F ORGIVE . "
O! may Thy soft Compassions move,
And Thy unconquerable Love
Constrain a dying World to turn and live!

XXXIII.

Then shall the glad Creation smile,
New Pleasures every Bosom fill,
And Sin and Death and Sorrow die:
Angels with sevensold Ardours flame,
And found new Praises to Thy Name,
While Mortals join below, and to their Song reply.