Nor did he read alone the poet's page,
Good books in prose would oft his mind engage:
For he had joined th' Mechanics' Institute—
And in its praises I would not be mute.
Mechanics! It deserves your best support,
And to its rooms you often should resort.
There you may learn from books to act your parts,
While they refine and elevate your hearts.
He with great travelers took delight to roam
In distant countries, far away from home;
And frequently has dropped a silent tear
O'er PARK'S great trials in the desert drear.
Oh! who can read of all his heart-felt woes—
His frequent sufferings, and his dying throes—
And fail to drop a sympathetic tear
For his sad end—without a friend to cheer!
In LANDERS' patient, persevering toil,
Through greatest dangers, on wild Afric's soil,
He felt the deepest interest, and partook
Their joys and sorrows, while he read their book.
And hailed, with pleasure and unfeigned delight,
The happy moment when the welcome sight
Of Niger's junction with the great deep sea
A period put to their sad misery!
Read BRUCE, whose book, received with cold distrust,
Was only prized when he was laid in dust.
And HUMBOLDT, the admired of all mankind,
Of gentle manners and accomplished mind;
Who scaled the lofty Andes' snow-clad towers,
Where danger lurks, and fell destruction lowers.
And COOK, who bravely sailed around the Earth—
A friend to man—ev'n man of lowest birth.
Whose peaceful voyages to each far coast
Were for man's benefit—as we may boast—-
Yet at sad price, since his dear life was lost!
Of warlike heroes' lives he read a few,
And of War's horrors thus obtained a view—
Which made him sick at heart, nor wish to know
More of man's bloody doings here below.
His sober and industrious conduct gained
The Master's confidence—which he retained;
And so, in services requiring trust
He was employed, and still continued just.
Sometimes to distant places he was sent—
And well he did enjoy the time thus spent.
It scope afforded to reflective powers—
And thus he profited by these spare hours.
Greatly did it delight him to behold
Fair Nature glittering in green and gold:
And the pure melody in different groves
Reminded him of his own early loves;
Or led him to break out, with tuneful voice,
In some sweet hymn, which made his heart rejoice.
For he had now begun to feel the worth
Of Heavenly things, and pour God's praises forth.
In this way, once he passed through Dallam Park,
To see its deer, and other objects mark.
These lovely creatures to his mind did seem
Most unfit objects of man's sporting dream.
He greatly wondered how some men could be
E'er guilty of, such wanton cruelty,
As to pursue, with horses and with hounds,
Such harmless creature over all their grounds;
Hunt him o'er swamps and fields, and mountain slopes,
Through pebbly streams, or shady hazel copse,
Till they have driven him at last to bay,
Toward the close of some most sultry day.
Wondered how any one, with tearless eye,
Could mark his sufferings, and then watch him die.
Oh, cruel man! when will thy thirst for blood
Be turned to energy in doing good?
When will Creation's groans come to an end,
And men delight in love their days to spend?
While such reflections occupied his mind,
The place he went to seek he strives to find,
And is successful; gets his business done,
Then back pursues his homeward way alone.
Now Fancy wings her flight; I view again
Scenes which my memory will long retain;
See Kent—unsung—flow on in winding course
Through woods and fields, with very gentle force;
Or where, by Sedgwick's side, its waters pour
O'er jagged rocks, with never-ceasing roar;
Or where they smoothly glide past Leven's hall,
Sweet landscapes forming, which can never pall
The minds of those who love a beauteous scene,
And wish to spend a day in bliss serene.
For there this stream just flows as if by stealth
Through splendid parks—past gardens formed by wealth!
I oft look back to those most gladsome hours
Spent, while a schoolboy, in those garden bowers;
Where tall box-trees are trimmed to various shapes—
Old women—pitchers—or, it may be—apes!
Where plants and beauteous flowers are ever found,
To breathe out fragrance all the garden round.
'Tis time for me to curb my vagrant Muse;
A subject waits my pen she well may choose.
Now aid me, O my God! who dwell'st above,
While I attempt to sing Redeeming Love!
Nor let one line, or word, be writ by me
Not in accordance with that Mystery!
May I, to profit fellow-sinners, strive,
And good from this for my own soul derive.
BOOK IV.
THE ARGUMENT.—Address to the Sacred Scriptures, glancing briefly at their various excellencies. WILLIAM becomes a Christian. His reception into a Church. Different view of things after Conversion. Voice of Nature heard in God's praise. Wonders why Man is so backward in this. Discovers reasons in Man's inbred corruption, temptations, etc. Salvation all of Grace. The humbling nature of this truth to Man's pride; but the security it affords Believers. Its effects on him. Fresh love trials—consequent resolutions. Sabbath morning walk—Church bells. Visit to farm-house; family worship. Glance at what England owes to Prayer. Sunday school teaching. Other exercises on that day. Their influence on him. Prepares to emigrate. Parting scenes, etc. Embarks at Liverpool.