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18
The Complaint.
Night 2.
Immense revenue! ev'ry Moment Pays.
If nothing more than Purpose in thy power;
Thy purpose firm, is equal to the deed:
Who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint;
'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer;
Guard well thy thought; our thoughts are heard in heaven.
On all-important time, thro' ev'ry age,
Tho' much, and warm, the wise have urg'd; the man
Is yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour.
'I've lost a day'—The Prince who nobly cry'd,
Had been an emperor without his crown;
Of Rome? say, rather, Lord of human race:
He spoke, as if deputed by mankind.
So should all speak: So reason speaks in all:
From the soft whispers of that God in man,
Why fly to folly, why to frenzy fly,
For rescue from the blessings we possess?
Time, the supreme!—Time is eternity;
Pregnant with all eternity can give;
Pregnant with all, that makes archangels smile.
Who murders time, He crushes in the birth
A pow'r ethereal, only not ador'd.
Ah! how unjust to nature, and himself,
Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!
Like children babbling nonsense in their sports,
We censure nature for a span too short;
That span too short, we tax as tedious too;
Torture invention, all expedients tire,
To lash the ling'ring moments into speed,
And whirl us (happy riddance!) from ourselves,
Art, brainless art! our furious charioteer
(For nature's voice unstifled would recall)
Drives headlong tow'rds the precipice of death;
If nothing more than Purpose in thy power;
Thy purpose firm, is equal to the deed:
Who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint;
'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer;
Guard well thy thought; our thoughts are heard in heaven.
On all-important time, thro' ev'ry age,
Tho' much, and warm, the wise have urg'd; the man
Is yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour.
'I've lost a day'—The Prince who nobly cry'd,
Had been an emperor without his crown;
Of Rome? say, rather, Lord of human race:
He spoke, as if deputed by mankind.
So should all speak: So reason speaks in all:
From the soft whispers of that God in man,
Why fly to folly, why to frenzy fly,
For rescue from the blessings we possess?
Time, the supreme!—Time is eternity;
Pregnant with all eternity can give;
Pregnant with all, that makes archangels smile.
Who murders time, He crushes in the birth
A pow'r ethereal, only not ador'd.
Ah! how unjust to nature, and himself,
Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!
Like children babbling nonsense in their sports,
We censure nature for a span too short;
That span too short, we tax as tedious too;
Torture invention, all expedients tire,
To lash the ling'ring moments into speed,
And whirl us (happy riddance!) from ourselves,
Art, brainless art! our furious charioteer
(For nature's voice unstifled would recall)
Drives headlong tow'rds the precipice of death;
Death,
