The Prospect

To Melancholy, softly-pensive power,
As late I gave the solitary hour;
Before my thoughts, in long succession, rose
The sadly-varied train of human woes.
To contemplation's mount, serene retreat!
The muse indulgent led my willing feet;
And while I view'd th' extended prospect round,
She bade the soothing, plaintive lyre resound.

Here, on a verdant plain bespread with flowers,
The sons of mirth indulge their sprightly pow'rs;
With roses crown'd, how blithsome, light, and gay,
They dance and sing the flying hours away!
Reflection, care, and foresight, all retreat,
For here hath pleasure only fix'd her seat:
Her wretched vot'ries court her silken chains
For present joy, nor dreams of future pains.
Death ready arm'd attends, and marks unseen,
His fated victims in the mirthful scene.
Ha! — whence that groan? — from yonder gloomy cell
So near the seats of joy can anguish dwell?
Yes, keenest anguish there and terror reign:
Oh, would the thoughtless, laughing, frolic train
Attend, nor let that warning groan be vain!

Unlike to these, yon restless tribe behold!
Their lives, incessant toil; their idol, gold;
Close at their heels attends corroding care,
On either side, distrust and anxious fear.
To friendship strangers, and to social joys;
The wish of wealth their sordid souls employs.
Their hopes, their cares, are lost in glitt'ring dust:
The toil how fruitless! and how vain the trust!
Insidious death prepares his ruthless dart,
To rend the idol from the bleeding heart.
And now a different scene my eye surveys.
An eager throng, the candidates for praise.
To gain the envy'd height, Where fame bestows
Her fairest wreath, each panting bosom glows.
The glorious prize inspires their ardent toils,
Till on their brow the dear-bought laurel smiles—
Behold the sons of valour, learning, wit;
High on an eminence sublime they sit,
With crowds of flatt'rers fawning at their feet.
But see, malignant envy stealing nigh!
She breathes — the tainted laurels droop and die.
The changeful many mark the dire disgrace,
And pluck the little pageants from their place.
Surprizing change! almost ador'd before,
Now nam'd with infamy, or nam'd no more.

Such mournful scenes, what heart unmov'd could bear?
Soft pity dropp'd the unavailing tear.
"Ah, wretched mortals! a deluded train!
"Their hopes, their joys, their busy cares, how vain;"
Are gifts like these, O earth, thy proudest boast?
Thy fav'rites prove their value to their cost.
'Tis then their real estimate we know,
When fame, wealth, pleasure, end in death or woe.
The view how doleful, did there not appear
A few of mien sedate, and cheerful air.
A happy few, whom true religion guides,
Points out their path, and o'er their steps presides!
When griefs oppress, her gentle hand sustains;
Her cheering voice can soften all their pains.
Though arrows, wing'd with danger, fly around,
She wards the stroke, or heals the smarting wound.
Her sacred dictates they with joy obey,
Nor wish to leave the heaven-directed way.
Nor fame allures, nor pleasure's silken chain,
Nor glitt'ring dust, their nobler thoughts detain:
Desire and hope sit smiling in their eyes,
With patience temper'd; while the distant skies
Attract their upward glance, and speak their care,
And speak their joy and expectation there.
Hail, heaven-taught minds! my heart your friendship claims
Be mine your cares, and hopes, your joys and aims-.

O for a beam of glory from above,
To bid the intervening clouds remove;
From earth's low dregs to purge the visual ray,
And clear my prospect to the realms of day.
Dim is the eye of sense; but faith supplies
(Inspir'd by heaven) what feeble sense denies.
In revelation's glass, celestial aid,
Applied by faith, what wonders are displayed!
What boundless glories open to the view!
And joys forever bright! forever new!
Unfading honours! pleasures all refin'd!
And riches lasting as th' immortal mind!
There full delight, a boundless river, flows!
There unforbid, the tree of knowledge grows!
And there the tree of life invites the taste
To fruits celestial, an immortal feast!
There an unfading verdure clothes the plains?
And constant spring in perfect beauty reigns
A paradise with every joy replete!
Nor pain, nor care invade the safe retreat:
For there the living source of bliss displays,
Without a cloud, his life-inspiring rays.
No mortal ear has known, no mortal eye,
No stretch of human thought can e'er descry,
Nor faith with heaven-imparted ardour trace
The endless glories of the blissful place.

Oh, happy fav'rites of almighty love,
Whose hopes, and cares, and hearts, are fix'd above!
Stern death to these no frown of terror wears;
Kind envoy from their Father's court, he bears
His blest commission, to dissolve the tie
Which holds their longing spirits from the sky.

Now rise my wishes high to joys divine;
O may this state, this blissful state, be mine!
Great Spring of life, to thee my heart aspires,
Forgive and animate these faint desires.
Thou ever-gracious, potent, wise, and just,
Whose promis'd aid invites my humble trust;
Instruct my feet to shun, with constant care,
The path where pleasure spreads the tempting snare:
Teach me to scorn the joys of treasur'd earth:
Ignoble aim, unworthy of my birth,
Beneath my hopes; nor let deluding fame
Allure me with the empty sound, a name!
Thy favour is my wish; for this alone
Is honour, boundless pleasure, wealth unknown,
My God, my guide' thy guardian care display,
And let thy blissful presence cheer my way,
Through life's bewilder'd maze, in every scene,
My light in darkness, my support in pain.
At death's approach, O let thy smile impart
Celestial consolation to my heart;
Thy gracious smile shall banish every fear,
And gentle death without a frown appear:
Kind messenger, to bear me to my God,
To dwell forever in thy bright abode!