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THE HERMIT.
To which are added, A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT; HEALTH, AN ECLOGUE; AND A NIGHT PIECE, ON DEATH.
By Dr. THOMAS PARNELL, late Arch-Deacon of CLOGHER.
DROGHEDA: Printed by JOHH FLEMING, in WEST-STREET.
THE HERMIT.
[]FAR in a Wild, unknown to public View,
From Youth to Age a rev'rend Hermit grew;
The Moſs his Bed, the Cave his humble Cell,
His Food the Fruits, his Drink the chryſtal Well:
Remote from Man, with God he paſs'd the Days,
Pray'r all his Bus'neſs, all his Pleaſure Praiſe.
A Life ſo ſacred, ſuch ſerene Repoſe,
Seem'd Heav'n itſelf, 'till one Suggeſstion roſe;
That Vice ſhould triumph, Virtue Vice obey,
This ſprung ſome Doubt of Providence's Sway:
His Hopes no more a certain Proſpect boaſt,
And all the Tenour of his Soul is loſt:
[3]So when a ſmooth Expanſe receives impreſt
Calm Nature's Image on it's wat'ry Breaſt,
Down bend the Banks, the Trees depending grow,
And Skies beneath with anſw'ring Colours glow:
But if a Stone the gentle Scene divide,
Swift ruffling Circles curl on ev'ry Side,
And glimmering Fragments of a broken Sun,
Banks, Trees, and Skies, in thick Diſorder run.
To clear this Doubt, to know the World by Sight,
To find if Books, or Swains, report it right;
(For yet by Swains alone the World he knew,
Whoſe Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly Dew)
He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-Staff he bore,
And fix'd the Scallop in his Hat before;
Then with the Sun a riſing Journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each Event.
The Morn was waſted in the pathleſs Graſs,
And long and loneſome was the Wild to paſs;
But when the Southern Sun had warm'd the Day,
A Youth came poſting o'er a croſſing Way;
His Rayment decent, his Complexion fair,
And ſoft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair.
Then near aproaching, Father Hail! he cry'd,
And Hail, my Son, the rev'rend Sire reply'd;
Words followed Words, from Queſtion Anſwer flow'd
And talk of various kind deceiv'd the Road;
[4]'Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their Age they differ, join in Heart:
Thus ſtands an aged Elm and Ivy bound,
Thus youthful Ivy claſps an Elm around.
Now ſunk the ſun; the cloſing Hour of Day
Came onward, mantled o'er with ſober grey;
Nature in Silence bid the World repoſe:
When near the Road a ſtately Palace roſe:
There by the Moon thro' Ranks of Trees they paſs,
Whoſe Verdure crown'd their ſloping Sides of Graſs.
It chanc'd the noble Maſter of the Dome,
Still made his Houſe the wand'ring Strangers home:
Yet ſtill the Kindneſs, from a Thirſt of Praiſe,
Prov'd the vain Flouriſh of expenſive Eaſe.
The Pair arriv'd: the liv'ry Servants wait;
The Lord receives them at the pompous Gate.
The Table groans with coſtly Piles of Food,
And all is more than Hoſpitably good,
Then led to reſt, the Day's long Toil they drown,
Deep ſunk in Sleep, and Silk, and Heaps of Down.
At lenth'tis Morn, and at the Dawn of Day,
Along the wide Canals the Zephyrs Play;
Freſh o'er the gay Parterres the Breezes creep,
And ſhake the neigh'bring Wood to baniſh Sleep,
Up riſe the Gueſts, obedient to the Call,
An early Banquet deck'd the ſplendid Hall;
[5]Rich lucious Wine a golden Goblet grac't,
Which the kind Maſter ſorc'd the Gueſts to taſte.
Then pleas'd and thankful from the Porch they go,
And, but the Landlord, none had cauſe of Woe;
His Cup was vaniſh'd; for in ſecret Guiſe
The younger Gueſt purloin'd the glittering Prize.
As one who ſpiss a Serpent in his Way,
Gliſt'ning and baſking in the Summer Ray,
Diſorder'd ſtops to ſhun the Danger near,
Then walks with Faintneſs on, and looks with Fear;,
So ſeem'd the Sire; when far upon the Road,
The ſhining Spoil his wilely Partner ſhow'd:
He ſtopp'd with Silence, walk'd with trembling Heart,
And much he wiſh'd, but durſt not aſk to part:
Murm'ring he lifts his Eyes, and thinks it hard,
That generous Actions meet a baſe Reward.
While thus they paſs, the Sun his Glory ſhrouds,
The changing Skies hang out their Sable Clouds,
A Sound in Air preſag'd approaching Rain,
And Beaſts to covert ſcud a-croſs the Plain.
Warn'd by the Signs, the wand'ring Pair retreat.
To ſeek, for Shelter at a neighb'ring Seat.
'Twas built with Turrets, on a riſing Ground,
And ſtrong, and large, unimprov'd around;
Its Owner's Temper, tim'rous and ſevere,
Unkind and griping, caus'd a Deſert there.
[6]
As near the Miſer's heavy Doors they drew,
Fierce riſing Guſts with ſudden Fury blew;
The nimble Light'ning mix'd with Show'rs began,
And o'er their Heads loud rolling Thunder ran.
Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain,
Driv'n by the Wind, and batter'd by the Rain.
At lenth ſome Pity warm'd the Maſter's Breaſt,
('Twas then, his Threſhold firſt receiv'd a Gueſt)
Slow creaking turns the Door with jealous Care,
And half he welcomes in the ſhivering Pair;
One frugal Faggot lights the naked Walls,
And Nature's Fervor thro' their Limbs recals:
Bread of the courſeſt ſort, with eager Wine,
(Each hardly granted) ſerv'd them both to dine;
And when the Tempeſt firſt appear'd to ceaſe,
A ready warning bid them part in Peace.
With ſtill Remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd
In one ſo rich, a Life ſo poor and rude;
And why ſhou'd ſuch, (within himſelf he cry'd,)
Lock the loſt Wealth a thouſand want beſide?
But what new Marks of Wonder ſoon took place,
In ev'ry ſettling Feature of his Face!
When from his Veſt the young Companion bore
That Cup, the gen'rous Landlord own'd before,
And paid profuſely with the precious Bowl
The ſtinted Kindneſs of this churliſh Soul.
[7]
But now the Clouds in airy Tumult fly,
The Sun emerging ope's an azure Sky;
A freſher green the ſmeling Leaves diſplay,
And glitt'ring as they tremble, chear the Day:
The Weather courts them from the poor Retreat,
And the glad Maſter bolts the wary Gate.
While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's Boſom wrought,
With all the Travel of uncertain Thought;
His Partner's Acts without their Cauſe appear,
'Twas there a Vice, and ſeem'd a Madneſs here:
Deteſting that, and pitying this he goes,
Loſt and confounded with the various Shows.
Now Night's dim Shades again involve the Sky;
Again the Wand'rers want a Place to lye,
Again they ſearch, and find a Lodging nigh.
The Soil improv'd around, the Manſion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great:
It ſeem'd to ſpeak its Maſter's turn of Mind,
Content, and not for Praiſe, but Virtue kind.
Hither the Walkers turn with weary Feet
Then bleſs the Manſion, and the Maſter greet:
Their greeting fair beſtow'd, with modeſt Guiſe,
The courteous Maſter hears, and thus replies:
Without a vain, without a grudging Heart,
To Him who gives us all, I yield a Part;
[8]From Him you come, from Him accept it here,
A frank and ſober, more than coſtly Cheer.
He ſpoke, and bid the welcome Table ſpread,
Then talk'd of Virtue till the Time of Bed,
When the grave Houſhold round his Hall repair,
Warn'd by a Bell, and cloſe the Hours with Pray'r.
At length the World renew'd by calm Repoſe
Was ſtrong for Toil, the dappled Morn aroſe;
Before the Pilgrims part, the Younger crept,
Near the clos'd Cradle where an Infant ſlept,
And writh'd his Neck, the Landlord's little Pride,
O Strange Return! grew black, and gaſp'd, and dy
Horrour of Horrours! what! his only Son!
How look'd our Hermit when the Fact was done?
Not Hell, tho' Hell's black Jaws in ſunder part,
And breathe blue Fire, cou'd more aſſault his Hea
Confus'd, and ſtruck with Silence at the Deed,
He flies, but trembling fails to fly with Speed.
His Steps the Youth purſues; the Country lay
Perplex'd with Roads, a Servant ſhow'd the Way:
A River croſs'd the Path; the Paſſage o'er
Was nice to find, the Servant trod before;
Long Arms of Oak an open Bridge ſupply'd,
And deep the Waves beneath the Bending glide.
The Youth, who ſeem'd to watch a Time to ſin,
Approach'd the careleſs Guide, and thruſt him in;
[9]Plunging he falls, and riſing liſts his Head,
Then flaſhing turns, and ſinks among the Dead.
Wild, ſparkling Rage inflames the Father's Eyes,
He burſts the Bands of Fear, and madly cries,
Deteſted Wretch—but ſcarce his Speech began,
When the ſtrange Partner ſeem'd no longer Man.
His youthful Face grew more ſerenely ſweet;
His Robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his Feet;
Fair Rounds of radiant Points inveſt his Hair;
Celeſtial Odours breathe thro' purpled Air;
And Wings, whoſe Colours glitter'd on the Day,
Wide at his Back their gradual Plumes diſplay.
The Form Etherial burſts upon his Sight,
And moves in all the Majeſty of Light.
Tho' loud at firſt the Pilgrim's Paſſion grew,
Sudden he gaz'd, and wiſt not what to do;
Surprize in ſecret Chains his Word ſuſpends,
And in a Calm his ſettling Temper ends.
But Silence here the beauteous Angel broke,
The Voice of Muſic raviſh'd as he ſpoke.)
Thy Pray'r, thy Praiſe, thy Life to Vice unknown,
In ſweet Memorial riſe before the Throne:
Theſe Charms, Succeſs in our bright Region find,
And force an Angel down, to calm thy Mind;
[10]For this commiſſion'd, I forſook the Sky:
Nay, ceaſe to kneel—thy fellow Servant I.
Then know the Truth of Government divine,
And let theſe Scruples be no longer thine.
The Maker juſtly claims that World he made,
In this the Right of Providence is laid;
Its ſacred Majeſty thro' all depends
On uſing ſecond Means to work his Ends:
'Tis thus, withdrawn in State from human Eye,
The Pow'r exerts his Attributes on high,
Your Actions uſes, not controuls your Will,
And bids the doubting Sons of Men be ſtill.
What ſtrange Events can ſtrike with more Surpriz
Than thoſe which lately ſtrook thy wond'ring Eyes:
Yet taught by theſe, confeſs th'Almighty juſt,
And where you can't unriddle, learn to truſt.
The Great, Vain Man, who far'd on coſtly Foo [...]
Whoſe Life was too luxurious to be good;
Who made his Iv'ry Stands with Goblets ſhine,
And forc'd his Gueſts to morning Draughts of Wine [...]
Has, with the Cup, the graceleſs Cuſtom loſt,
And ſtill he welcomes, but with leſs of Coſt.
The mean, ſuſpicious Wretch, whoſe bolted Door [...]
Ne'er mov'd in Duty to the wand'ring Poor;
[11]With him I left the Cup, to teach his Mind
That Heav'n can bleſs, if Mortals will be kind.
Conſcious of wanting Worth, he views the Bowl,
And feels Compaſſion touch his grateful Soul.
Thus Artiſts melt the ſullen Oar of Lead,
With heaping Coals of Fire upon its Head;
In the kind Warmth the Metal learns to glow,
And looſe from Droſs, the Silver runs below.
Long had our, pious Friend in Virtue trod,
But now the Child half-wean'd his Heart from God,
(Child of his Age) for him he liv'd in Pain,
And meaſur'd back his Steps to Earth again.
To what Exceſſes had his Dotage run?
But God, to ſave the Father, took the Son,
To all but thee, in Fits he ſeem'd to go,
(And 'twas my Miniſtry to deal the Blow)
The poor fond Parent humbled in the Duſt,
Now owns in Tears the Puniſhment was juſt.
But how had all his Fortune felt a Wrack,
Had that falſe Servant ſped in Safety back?
This Night his treaſur'd Heaps he meant to ſteal,
And what a fund of Charity wou'd fail!
Thus Heav'n inſtructs thy Mind: This Tryal o'er
Depart in Peace, reſign, and ſin no more.
[12]
On ſounding Pinnions here the Youth withdrew,
The Sage ſtood wond'ring as the Seraph flew.
Thus look'd Eliſha when to mount on high,
His Maſter took the Chariot of the ſky;
The fiery Pomp aſcending left the View;
The Prophet gaz'd and wiſh'd to follow too.
The bending Hermit here a Pray'r begun,
Lord! as in Heaven, on Earth thy Will be done,
Then gladly turning, ſought his antient Place,
And paſs'd a Life of Piety and Peace.
A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.
[13]LOvely, laſting Peace of Mind!
Sweet Delight of human kind!
Heavenly born, and bred on high,
To crown the Fav'rites of the Sky
With more of Happineſs below,
Than Victors in a Triumph know!
Whither, O whither art thou fled,
To lay thy meek, contented Head?
What happy Region doſt thou pleaſe
To make the Seat of Calms and Eaſe?
[14]
Ambition ſearches all its Sphere
Of Pomp and State, to meet thee there.
Encreaſing Avarice would find
Thy Preſence in its Gold enſhrin'd.
The bold Advent'rer ploughs his way,
Thro' Rocks amidſt the foaming Sea,
To gain thy Love; and then perceives
Thou wert not in the Rocks and Waves.
The ſilent Heart with Grief aſſails,
Treads ſoft and loneſome o'er the Vales,
Sees Daiſies open, Rivers run,
And ſeeks (as I have vainly done)
Amuſing Thought; but learns to know
That Solitude's the Nurſe of Woe.
No real Happineſs is, found
In trailing Purple o'er the Ground:
Or in a Soul exalted high,
To range the Circuit of the Sky,
Converſe with Stars above, and know
All Nature in its Forms below;
The Reſt it ſeeks; in ſeeking dies,
And Doubts at laſt for Knowledge riſe.
Lovely, laſting Peace appear!
This World itſelf, if, thou art here,
Is once again with Eden bleſs'd,
And Man contains it in his Breaſt.
'Twas thus, as under Shade I ſtood,
I ſung my Wiſhes to the Wood,
[15]And loſt in thought, no more perceiv'd
The Branches whiſper as they wav'd:
It ſeem'd, as all the quiet Place
Confeſs'd the Preſence of the Grace.
When thus ſhe ſpoke—Go rule thy Will,
Bid thy wild Paſſions all be ſtill,
Know God—and bring thy Heart to know,
The Joys which from Religion flow:
Then every Grace ſhall prove its Gueſt,
And I'll be there to crown the reſt.
Oh! by yonder Moſſy Seat,
In my Hours of ſweet Retreat;
Might I thus my Soul employ,
With Senſe of Gratitude and Joy:
Rais'd as ancient Prophets were,
In heavenly Viſion, Praiſe, and Pray'r;
Pleaſing all Men, hurting none,
Pleas'd and bleſs'd with God alone:
Then while the Gardens take my Sight,
With all the Colours of Delight;
While ſilver Waters glide along,
To pleaſe my Ear, and court my Song:
I'll lift my Voice, and tune my String,
And thee, great Source of Nature, ſing.
The Sun that walks his airy Way,
To light the World, and give the Day;
[16]The Moon that ſhines with borrow'd Light;
The Stars that gild the gloomy Night;
The Scas that roll unnumber'd Waves;
The Wood that ſpreads its ſhady Leaves;
The Field whoſe Ears conceal the Grain,
The yellow Treaſure of the Plain;
All of theſe, and all I ſee,
Shou'd be ſung, and ſung by me:
They ſpeak their Maker as they can,
But want and aſk the Tongue of Man.
Go ſearch among your idle Dreams,
Your buſy or your vain Extreams;
And find a Life of equal Blifs,
Or own the next begun in this.
HEALTH, AN ECLOGUE.
[17]NOW early Shepherds o'er the Meadow paſs,
And print long foot-ſteps in the glittering graſs;
The Cows neglectful of their Paſture ſtand,
Turns obſequious to the Milker's Hand.
When Damon ſoftly trod the ſhaven Lawn,
Damon a Youth from City Cares withdrawn;
[...]ong was the pleaſing Walk he wander'd thro',
[...] cover'd Arbour clos'd the diſtant View;
[...]here reſts the Youth, and while the feather'd Throng
[...]aiſe their wild Muſick, thus contrives a Song.
[18]
Here waſted o'er by mild Eteſian Air,
Thou Country Goddeſs, beauteous Health! rep;
Here let my Breaſt thro' quiv'ring Trees inhale
Thy roſy Bleſſings with the Morning Gale.
What are the Fields, or Flow'rs, or all I ſee?
Ah! taſteleſs all, if not enjoy'd with thee.
Joy to my Soul! I feel the Goddeſs nigh,
The Face of Nature cheers as well as I;
O'er the flat Green refreſhing Breezes run,
The ſmiling Dazies blow beneath the Sun,
The Brooks run purling down with ſilver Waves,
The planted Lanes rejoice with dancing Leaves,
The chirping Birds from all the Compaſs rove
To tempt the tuneſul Ecchoes of the Grove:
High ſunny Summits, deeply ſhaded Dales,
Thick Moſſy Banks, and flow'ry winding Vales,
With various Proſpect gratify the Sight,
And ſcatter fix'd Attention in Delight.
Come, Country Goddeſs, come, nor thou ſuffice
But bring thy Mountain-Siſter, Exerciſe.
Call'd by thy lively Voice, ſhe turns her Pace,
Her winding Horn proclaims the finiſh'd Chace;
She mounts the Rocks, ſhe ſkims the level Plain,
Dogs, Hawks and Horſes, crown'd her early Train
Her hardy Face repells the tanning Wind,
And Lines and Meſhes looſely float behind.
[19]A [...]l theſe as Means of Toil the Feeble ſee,
[...] theſe are helps to Pleaſure join'd with thee.
Let Sloth lye ſoſt'ning'till high Noon in Down
[...] lolling fan her in the ſult'ry Town,
[...]nerv'd with Reſt; and turn her own Diſeaſe,
[...] foſter others in luxurious Eaſe:
[...] mount the Courſer, call the deep mouth'd Hounds;
[...]he Fox unkennell'd flies to covert Grounds;
[...]ead where Stags thro' tangled Thickets tread,
[...]nd ſhake the Saplings with their branching Head;
[...] [...]ake the Faulcons wing their airy Way,
[...]nd ſoar to ſeize, or ſtooping ſtrike their Prey;
[...] ſnare the Fiſh I fix the luring Bait;
[...] wound the Fowl I load the Gun with Fate.
[...] thus thio' change of Exerciſe I range,
[...]d Strength and Pleaſure riſe from ev'ry Change.
Hear beauteous Health for all the Year remain,
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
Oh come, thou Goddeſs of my rural Song,
[...]d bring thy Daughter, calm Content along.
[...]me of the ruddy Cheek and laughing Eye,
[...]m whoſe bright Preſence Clouds of Sorrow fly:
[...] her I mow my Walks, I plat my Bow'rs,
[...] my low Hedges, and ſupport my Flow'rs;
[...] welcome her, this Summer Seat I dreſt,
[...] here I court her when ſhe comes to Reſt;
[20]When ſhe from Exerciſe to learned Eaſe
Shall change again, and teach the Change to pleaſ [...]
Now Friends converſing my ſoft Hours refine,
And Tully's Tuſculum revives in mine:
Now to grave Books I bid the Mind retreat,
And ſuck as make me rather Good than Great,
Or o'er the Works of eaſy Fancy rove,
Where Flutes and Innocence amuſe the Grove:
The native Bard that on Sicilian Plains
Firſt ſung the lowly Manners of the Swains;
Or Maro's Muſe that in the faireſt Light
Paints rural Proſpects and the Charms of Sight;
Theſe ſoft Amuſements bring Content along,
And Fancy, void of Sorrow, turns to Song.
Heare beauteous Health for all the Year remai [...]
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus ag [...]
A NIGHT PIECE, ON DEATH.
[21]BY the blue Tapers trembling Light,
No more I waſte the wakeful Night.
Intent with endleſs View to pore
The Schoolmen and the Sages o'er:
Their Books from Wiſdom widely ſtray,
Or point at beſt the longeſt Way.
I'll ſeek a readier Path, and go
Where Wiſdom's ſurely taught below.
How deep yon Azure dies the ſky!
Where Orbs of Gold unnumber'd lye,
While thro' their Ranks in ſilver pride
The nether Creſcent ſeems to glide.
The ſlumb'ring Breeze forgets to breathe,
The Lake is ſmooth and clear beneath,
[22]Where once again the ſpangle Snow
Deſcends to meet our Eyes below.
The Grounds which on the right aſpire,
In dimneſs, from the View retire:
The Left preſents a Place of Graves,
Whoſe Wall the ſilent Water leaves.
That Steeple guides thy doubtful ſight
Among the livid gleams of Night.
There paſs with melancholly State,
By all the ſolemn Heaps of Fate,
And think, as ſoftly-ſad you tread
Above the venerable Dead,
Time was, like thee they Life poſſeſt,
And Time ſhall be, that thou ſhalt Reſt.
Thoſe Graves, with bending Oſier bound,
That nameleſs heave the crumbled Ground,
Quick to the glancing Thought diſcloſe
Where Toil and Poverty repoſe.
The flat ſmooth Stones that bear a Name,
The Chiſſel's ſlender help to Fame,
(Which e'er our Set of Friends decay
Their frequent Steps may wear away.)
A middle Race of Mortals own,
Men, half ambitious, all unknown.
The Marble Tombs that riſe on high,
Whoſe Dead in vaulted Arches lye;
[23]Whoſe Pillars ſwell with ſculptur'd Stones,
Arms, Angels, Epitaphs, and Bones,
Theſe (all the poor Remains of State)
Adorn the Rich, or praiſe the Great;
Who while on Earth in Fame they live,
Are ſenſeleſs of the Fame they give.
Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades,
The burſting Earth unveils the Shades!
All ſlow, and wan, and wrap'd with Shrouds,
They riſe in viſionary Crouds,
And all with ſober Accent cry,
Think, Mortal, what it is to dye.
Now from yon black and fun'ral Yew,
That bathes the Charnel Houſe with Dew,
Methinks I hear a Voice begin;
(Ye Ravens, ceaſe your croaking Din,
Ye tollings Clocks, no Time reſound
O'er the long Leak and midnight Ground)
It ſends a Peal of hollow Groans,
Thus ſpeaking from among the Bones,
When Men my Scythe and Darts ſupply,
How great a King of Fears am I!
They view me like the laſt of Things:
They make, and then they dread, my Stings.
Fools! if you leſs provok'd your Fears,
No more my Spectre-Form appears.
[24]Death's but a Path that muſt be trod,
If Man wou'd ever paſs to God:
A Port of Calms, a State of Eaſe
From the rough Rage of ſwelling Seas.
Why then thy flowing Sable Stoles,
Deep pendent Cypreſs, mourning Poles,
Looſe Scarfs to fall athwart thy Weeds,
Long Palls, drawn Herſes, cover'd Steeds,
And Plumes of black, that as they tread,
Nod o'er the 'Scutcheons of the Dead?
Nor can the parted Body know,
Nor wants the Soul, theſe Forms of woe:
As Men who long in Priſon dwell,
With Lamps that glimmer round the Cell,
When e'er their ſuffering Years are run,
Spring forth to greet the glitt'ring Sun:
Such Joy, tho' far tranſcending Senſe,
Have pious Souls at parting hence.
On Earth, and in the Body plac't,
A few, and evil Years, they waſte:
But when their Charms are caſt aſide,
See the glad Scene unfolding wide,
Clap the glad Wing and tow'r away,
And mingle with the Blaze of Day.
FINIS.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5480 The hermit To which are added A hymn to contentment Health an eclogue and A night piece on death By Dr Thomas Parnell. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-57F4-F