26
If Reason, Reason bids us strive to raise
Our fallen hearts and be like Him we praise;
Or if Affection still the soul subdue,
Bring all his virtues, all his worth in view,
And let Affection find its comfort too:
For how can Grief so deeply wound the heart,
When Admiration claims so large a part?
Grief is a foe, expel him then thy soul,
Let nobler thoughts, the nearer views control;
Oh! make the Age to come thy better care,
See other Rutlands, other Granbys there;
And as thy thoughts through streaming ages glide,
See other Heroes die as Manners died:
And from their fate, thy race shall nobler grow,
As trees shoot upwards that are prun'd below;
Or as old Thames borne down with decent pride,
Sees his young streams run warbling at his side;
Though some, by art cut off, no longer run,
And some are lost beneath the Summer's Sun—
Yet the pure stream moves on, and as it moves,
Its power increases and its use improves;
While Plenty round its spacious waves bestow,
Still it flows on, and shall for ever flow.
Our fallen hearts and be like Him we praise;
Or if Affection still the soul subdue,
Bring all his virtues, all his worth in view,
And let Affection find its comfort too:
For how can Grief so deeply wound the heart,
When Admiration claims so large a part?
Grief is a foe, expel him then thy soul,
Let nobler thoughts, the nearer views control;
Oh! make the Age to come thy better care,
See other Rutlands, other Granbys there;
And as thy thoughts through streaming ages glide,
See other Heroes die as Manners died:
And from their fate, thy race shall nobler grow,
As trees shoot upwards that are prun'd below;
Or as old Thames borne down with decent pride,
Sees his young streams run warbling at his side;
Though some, by art cut off, no longer run,
And some are lost beneath the Summer's Sun—
Yet the pure stream moves on, and as it moves,
Its power increases and its use improves;
While Plenty round its spacious waves bestow,
Still it flows on, and shall for ever flow.
