In every creature she beholds a friend. 1807 "REFLECTIONS". UPON THE SUBJECT - Quid juvat errores, mersa jam puppe, fateri? Quid lacrymae delicta juvant commissa secutae? CLAUDIAN, in Eutropium. What avails it, when shipwreck'd, that error appears? Are the crimes we commit wash'd away by our tears? ----------------------- When all the fiercer passions cease (The glory and disgrace of youth): When the deluded soul in peace, Can listen to the voice of truth: When we are taught in whom to trust, And how to spare, to spend, to give, (Our prudence kind, our pity just), 'Tis then we rightly learn to live. Its weakness when the body feels, Nor danger in contempt defies: To reason when desire appeals, When, on experience, hope relies: When every passing hour we prize, Nor rashly on our follies spend: But use it, as it quickly flies, With sober aim to serious end: When prudence bounds our utmost views, And bids us wrath and wrong forgive: When we can ealmly gain or lose, - 'Tis then we rightly learn to live. Yet thus, when we our way discern, And can upon our care depend, To travel safely, when we learn, Behold? we're near our journey's end. We've trod the maze of error round, Long wand'ring in the winding glade: And, now the torch of truth is found, It only shows us where we stray'd: Light for ourselves, what is it worth, When we no more our way can choose? For others, when we hold it forth, They, in their pride, the boon refuse. By long experience taught, we now Can rightly judge of friends and foes, Can all the worth of these allow, And all their faults discern in those; Relentless hatred, erring love, We can for sacred truth forego; We can the warmest friend reprove, And bear to praise the fiercest foe: To what effect? Our friends are gone Beyond reproof, regard, or care; And of our foes remains there one, The mild relenting thought to share? Now 'tis our boast that we can quell The wildest passions in their rage; Can their destructive force repel, And their impetuous wrath assuage: Ah! Virtue, dost thou arm, when now This bold rebellious race are fled; When all these tyrants rest and thou Art warring with the mighty dead? Revenge, ambition, scorn, and pride, And strong desire, and fierce disdain, The giant-brood by thee defied, Lo! Time's resistless strokes have slain. Yet Time, who could that race subdue, (O'erpowering strength, appeasing rage,) Leaves yet a persevering crew, To try the failing powers of age. Vex'd by the constant call of these, Virtue a while for conquest tries: But weary grown and fond of ease, She makes with them a compromise: Av'rice himself she gives to rest, But rules him with her strict commands; Bids Pity touch his torpid breast, And Justice hold his eager hands.