Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE REV. JAMES HERVEY, ON HIS MEDITATIONS, by NATHANIEL COTTON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE REV. JAMES HERVEY, ON HIS MEDITATIONS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: To form the taste, and raise the nobler part
Last Line: August 5, 1748.
Subject(s): Death; Hervey, James (1714-1758); Dead, The


ON HIS MEDITATIONS.

TO form the taste, and raise the nobler part,
To mend the morals, and to warm the heart;
To trace the genial source we Nature call,
And prove the GOD of Nature friend of all;
Hervey for this his mental landscape drew,
And sketch'd the whole creation out to view.
The' enamell'd bloom, and variegated flow'r,
Whose crimson changes with the changing hour;
The humble shrub, whose fragrance scents the morn,
With buds disclosing to the early dawn;
The oaks that grace Britannia's mountains' side,
And spicy Lebanon's superior pride;
All loudly sovereign excellence proclaim,
And animated worlds confess the same.
The azure fields that form the' extended sky,
The planetary globes that roll on high,
And solar orbs, of proudest blaze, combine
To act subservient to the great design.
Men, angels, seraphs, join the general voice,
And in the Lord of Nature all rejoice.
His the grey winter's venerable guise,
Its shrouded glories, and instructive skies;
His the snow's plumes, that brood the sickening blade;
His the bright pendant that impearls the glade;
The waving forest, or the whispering brake;
The surging billow, or the sleeping lake.
The same who pours the beauties of the spring,
Or mounts the whirlwind's desolating wing.
The same who smiles in Nature's peaceful form,
Frowns in the tempest, and directs the storm.
'Tis thine, bright teacher, to improve the age;
'Tis thine, whose life's a comment on thy page;
Thy happy page! whose periods sweetly flow,
Whose figures charm us, and whose colours glow:
Where artless piety pervades the whole,
Refines the genius, and exalts the soul.
For let the witling argue all he can,
It is religion still that makes the man:
'Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright;
'Tis this that gilds the horrors of the night.
When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few;
When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue;
'Tis this that wards the blow, or stills the smart,
Disarms affliction, or repels its dart;
Within the breast bids purest rapture rise;
Bids smiling conscience spread her cloudless skies.
When the storm thickens, and the thunder rolls,
When the earth trembles to the' affrighted poles,
The virtuous mind nor doubts nor fears assail;
For storms are zephyrs, or a gentler gale.
And when disease obstructs the labouring breath;
When the heart sickens, and each pulse is death;
E'en then religion shall sustain the just,
Grace their last moments, nor desert their dust.
August 5, 1748.





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