t, 470
Dares into judgment call her Judge.--Supreme!
For all I bless thee; most, for the severe;
Her[54] death--my own at hand--the fiery gulf,
That flaming bound of wrath omnipotent!
It thunders;--but it thunders to preserve;
It strengthens what it strikes; its wholesome dread
Averts the dreaded pain; its hideous groans
Join heaven's sweet hallelujahs in thy praise,
Great Source of good alone! how kind in all!
In vengeance kind! Pain, Death, Gehenna, save. 480
Thus, in thy world material, Mighty Mind!
Not that alone which solaces, and shines,
The rough and gloomy, challenges our praise.
The winter is as needful as the spring;
The thunder, as the sun; a stagnate mass
Of vapours breeds a pestilential air:
Nor more propitious the Favonian[55] breeze
To nature's health, than purifying storms;
The dread volcano ministers to good.
Its smother'd flames might undermine the world. 490
Loud Etnas fulminate in love to man;
Comets good omens are, when duly scann'd; 492
And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine.
Man is responsible for ills received;
Those we call wretched are a chosen band,
Compell'd to refuge in the right, for peace.
Amid my list of blessings infinite,
Stands this the foremost, "That my heart has bled."
'Tis Heaven's last effort of good-will to man;
When Pain can't bless, Heaven quits us in despair. 500
Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls,
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest;
Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart;
Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.
May Heaven ne'er trust my friend with happiness,
Till it has taught him how to bear it well,
By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!
Such smiles are mine, and such may they remain;
Nor hazard their extinction, from excess.
My change of heart a change of style demands; 510
The Consolation cancels the Complaint,
And makes a convert of my guilty song.
As when o'er-labour'd, and inclined to breathe,
A panting traveller, some rising ground,
Some small ascent, has gain'd, he turns him round,
And measures with his eye the various vales,
The fields, woods, meads, and rivers, he has pass'd;
And, satiate of his journey, thinks of home,
Endear'd by distance, nor affects more toil;
Thus I, though small, indeed,