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And rights submitted left him none to seize.
On what foundation stands the warror's pride, How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide. A frame of adamant, a soul of fire,
45 No dangers fright him, and no labours tire; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquered lord of pleasure and of pain. No joys to him pacific sceptres yieldWar sounds the trump, he rushes to the field;
50 Behold surrounding kings their pow'rs combine, And one capitulate, and one resign: Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; “Think nothing gained,” he cries, “till naught remain! On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly,
55 And all be mine beneath the polar sky!” The march begins in military state, And nations on his eye suspended wait. Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, And Winter barricades the realms of Frost.
60 He comes; nor want nor cold his course delayHide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day! The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands, Condemned a needy supplicant to wait While ladies interpose and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound,
Or hostile millions press him to the ground?
Where, then, shall Hope and Fear their objects find? 75 Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? Enquirer, cease; petitions yet remain Which Heav'n may hear. Nor deem religion vain; Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice, Safe in His pow'r Whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious 'pray'r; I Implore His aid, in His decisions rest, Secure, whate'er He'gives, He gives the best. Yet when the sense of Sacred Presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resigned; For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill; For faith, that, panting for a happier seat,
95 Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat: These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain; These goods He grants Who grants the pow'r to gain; With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find. 1748!
In ev'ry village marked with little spire,
There dwells, in lowly shed and mean attire,
And ofttimes, on vagaries idly bent,
And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree,
And as they looked they found their horror grew,
One ancient hen she took delight to feed,
For well she knew, and quaintly could expound,
In elbow chair, like that of Scottish stem
And warned them not the fretful to deride,
Right well she knew each temper to descry:
Forewarned, if little bird their pranks behold,
Lo, now with state she utters the command !
On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been
Ah, luckless he, and born beneath the beam
And down they drop; appears his dainty skin,
O ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure
To her sad grief that swells in either eye,
No longer can she now her shrieks command;
To rushen forth and with presumptuous hand
And soon a flood of tears begins to flow,
But ah, what pen his piteous plight may trace,
Or when from high she levels well her aim,
The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay
Whence oft with sugared cates she doth 'em greet, And ginger-bread y-rare-now, certes, doubly sweet! 1736.
HASSAN, OR THE CAMEL-DRIVER
Scene, the desert. Time, mid-day. In silent horror o'er the boundless waste The driver Hassan with his camels passed: One cruse of water on his back he bore,