The birds, that cleave the expanse of air, Admiring, view your globe full-blown, And, chattering round the painted car, Complain your flight out-does their own: Beyond their track you proudly swim, Nor fear the loss of life or limb. How vast the height, how grand the scene That your enraptured eye surveys, When, towering in your gay machine, You leave the astonish'd world to gaze, And, wandering in the ætherial blue, Our eyes, in vain, your course pursue. The Orb of Day, how dazzling bright! In paler radiance gleams the Moon, And Terra, whence you took your flight, Appears to you--a meer balloon: Its noisy crew no longer heard, Towns, cities, forests, disappear'd. Yet, travelling through the azure road, Soar not too high for human ken; Reflect, our humble safe abode Is all that Nature meant for men: Take in your sails before you freeze, And sink again among the trees. [117] Published in the _Time-Piece and Literary Companion_, May 15, 1797, under the title "Stanzas Written Some Years Since on Mr. Blanchard's Forty-fifth Ascension from the Jail-Yard in Philadelphia, January 9, 1793." Text from the 1795 edition. ON HEARING[118] A Political Oration, Superficially Composed on an Important Subject Sound without sense, and words devoid of force, Through which no art could find a clue, And mean and shackling was the whole discourse That kept me, Tully, long from you. Heads of harangues, to heads less general, split, Seem'd like small laths, cleft from some heavy log; I heard the inference, that no object hit-- All congelation, vapor, smoke, or fog. And what avail'd the argument unsound That nothing proved, or on the expecting mind Forced no conviction--just as well might sound To the deaf ear with sentiments abound. Long did we wait for application time To find what sense or reason might apply:-- It came--attended with the false sublime, And thread-bare truths, no mortal could deny. Repeated thoughts, and periods of a mile, Remarks devoid of dignity or power, Exploded notions, dress'd in brilliant style, Exhausted patience, and consumed the hour. Thus when of old some town some folks besieged, Before the walls the invader sat him down, While those who mann'd them, at their foes enraged, Threw many a load of ancient lumber down; And wore them out, with tumbling on their heads Bricks, tiles, and paving-stones, huge logs of timber, Pump-water, cold or boiling, shovels, spades,-- And more, by far, than you or I remember. Ah, speaker! with artillery like your own Hard will it be one Federal to awake, Trust me, although you scold, and chafe, and frown, You may besiege, but are not like to take Their three wall'd town.