The Task and Other Poems [11]
o'erbearing height, Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, Upridged so high, and sent on such a charge, Possessed an inland scene. Where now the throng That pressed the beach and hasty to depart Looked to the sea for safety? They are gone, Gone with the refluent wave into the deep, A prince with half his people. Ancient towers, And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes Where beauty oft and lettered worth consume Life in the unproductive shades of death, Fall prone: the pale inhabitants come forth, And, happy in their unforeseen release From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy The terrors of the day that sets them free. Who then, that has thee, would not hold thee fast, Freedom! whom they that lose thee so regret, That even a judgment, making way for thee, Seems in their eyes a mercy, for thy sake.
Such evil sin hath wrought; and such a flame Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth, And, in the furious inquest that it makes On God's behalf, lays waste His fairest works. The very elements, though each be meant The minister of man to serve his wants, Conspire against him. With his breath he draws A plague into his blood; and cannot use Life's necessary means, but he must die. Storms rise to o'erwhelm him: or, if stormy winds Rise not, the waters of the deep shall rise, And, needing none assistance of the storm, Shall roll themselves ashore, and reach him there. The earth shall shake him out of all his holds, Or make his house his grave; nor so content, Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood, And drown him in her dry and dusty gulfs. What then--were they the wicked above all, And we the righteous, whose fast-anchored isle Moved not, while theirs was rocked like a light skiff, The sport of every wave? No: none are clear, And none than we more guilty. But where all Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose His mark, May punish, if He please, the less, to warn The more malignant. If He spared not them, Tremble and be amazed at thine escape, Far guiltier England, lest He spare not thee!
Happy the man who sees a God employed In all the good and ill that chequer life! Resolving all events, with their effects And manifold results, into the will And arbitration wise of the Supreme. Did not His eye rule all things, and intend The least of our concerns (since from the least The greatest oft originate), could chance Find place in His dominion, or dispose One lawless particle to thwart His plan, Then God might be surprised, and unforeseen Contingence might alarm Him, and disturb The smooth and equal course of His affairs. This truth, philosophy, though eagle-eyed In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks; And, having found His instrument, forgets Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still, Denies the power that wields it. God proclaims His hot displeasure against foolish men That live an Atheist life: involves the heaven In tempests, quits His grasp upon the winds And gives them all their fury; bids a plague Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin, And putrefy the breath of blooming health. He calls for Famine, and the meagre fiend Blows mildew from between his shrivelled lips, And taints the golden ear. He springs His mines, And desolates a nation at a blast. Forth steps the spruce philosopher, and tells Of homogeneal and discordant springs And principles; of causes how they work By necessary laws their sure effects; Of action and reaction. He has found The source of the disease that nature feels, And bids the world take heart and banish fear. Thou fool! will thy discovery of the cause Suspend the effect, or heal it? Has not God Still wrought by means since first He made the world, And did He not of old employ His means To drown it? What is His creation less Than a capacious reservoir of means Formed for His use, and ready at His will? Go, dress thine eyes with eye-salve, ask of Him, Or ask of whomsoever He has taught, And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all.
England, with all
Such evil sin hath wrought; and such a flame Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth, And, in the furious inquest that it makes On God's behalf, lays waste His fairest works. The very elements, though each be meant The minister of man to serve his wants, Conspire against him. With his breath he draws A plague into his blood; and cannot use Life's necessary means, but he must die. Storms rise to o'erwhelm him: or, if stormy winds Rise not, the waters of the deep shall rise, And, needing none assistance of the storm, Shall roll themselves ashore, and reach him there. The earth shall shake him out of all his holds, Or make his house his grave; nor so content, Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood, And drown him in her dry and dusty gulfs. What then--were they the wicked above all, And we the righteous, whose fast-anchored isle Moved not, while theirs was rocked like a light skiff, The sport of every wave? No: none are clear, And none than we more guilty. But where all Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose His mark, May punish, if He please, the less, to warn The more malignant. If He spared not them, Tremble and be amazed at thine escape, Far guiltier England, lest He spare not thee!
Happy the man who sees a God employed In all the good and ill that chequer life! Resolving all events, with their effects And manifold results, into the will And arbitration wise of the Supreme. Did not His eye rule all things, and intend The least of our concerns (since from the least The greatest oft originate), could chance Find place in His dominion, or dispose One lawless particle to thwart His plan, Then God might be surprised, and unforeseen Contingence might alarm Him, and disturb The smooth and equal course of His affairs. This truth, philosophy, though eagle-eyed In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks; And, having found His instrument, forgets Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still, Denies the power that wields it. God proclaims His hot displeasure against foolish men That live an Atheist life: involves the heaven In tempests, quits His grasp upon the winds And gives them all their fury; bids a plague Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin, And putrefy the breath of blooming health. He calls for Famine, and the meagre fiend Blows mildew from between his shrivelled lips, And taints the golden ear. He springs His mines, And desolates a nation at a blast. Forth steps the spruce philosopher, and tells Of homogeneal and discordant springs And principles; of causes how they work By necessary laws their sure effects; Of action and reaction. He has found The source of the disease that nature feels, And bids the world take heart and banish fear. Thou fool! will thy discovery of the cause Suspend the effect, or heal it? Has not God Still wrought by means since first He made the world, And did He not of old employ His means To drown it? What is His creation less Than a capacious reservoir of means Formed for His use, and ready at His will? Go, dress thine eyes with eye-salve, ask of Him, Or ask of whomsoever He has taught, And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all.
England, with all