Take every creature in, of every kind; Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 370 Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, O master of the poet, and the song! And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, 375 380 Intent to reason, or polite to please. O! while along the stream of time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, 385 Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, Thou wert my guide, philosopher and friend! 390 That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art, 395 THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. DEO OPTIMO MAXIMO. FATHER of All! in ev'ry age, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Thou Great First Cause, least understood Who all my sense confin'd To know but this, that Thou art good, Yet gave me, in this dark estate, To see the good from ill; Left free the human will. What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than hell to shun, What blessings thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, T' enjoy, is to obey. 54 UNIVERSAL PRAYER. Yet not to earth's contracted span, Let not this weak, unknowing hand If I am right, thy grace impart, Save me alike from foolish pride, Teach me to feel another's wo; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me. Mean though I am, not wholly so, Since quicken'd by thy breath; O lead me, wheresoe'er I go, Through this day's life or death. This day be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun, Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, To Thee, whose temple is all space, ODE ON SOLITUDE.* HAPPY the man whose wish and care In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Bless'd, who can unconcern'dly find Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Steal from the world, and not a stone *This was a very early production of Mr. Pope, written when he was about twelve years old. THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. ODE.* I. VITAL spark of heavenly flame! II. Hark! they whisper; angels say, What is this absorbs me quite! Steals my senses, shuts my sight, III. The world recedes! it disappears! O Death! where is thy sting? *This ode was written in imitation of the famous Sonnet of Hadrian to his departing soul. See Hadrian's Sonnet let. 4, of Letters to and from Mr. Steele, &c. Vol. iv. |