And each shall have his own.--Hence, ye profane! Ask not how this can be?--Sure the same power That rear'd the piece at first, and took it down, Can re-assemble the loose scatter'd parts, And put them as they were.--Almighty God Has done much more; nor is his arm impair'd Through length of days: and what he can, he will: His faithfulness stands bound to see it done. When the dread trumpet sounds, the slumbering dust, 750 Not unattentive to the call, shall wake; And every joint possess its proper place, With a new elegance of form, unknown To its first state. Nor shall the conscious soul Mistake its partner, but, amidst the crowd, Singling its other half, into its arms Shall rush, with all the impatience of a man That's new come home; and, having long been absent, With haste runs over every different room, In pain to see the whole. Thrice happy meeting! 760 Nor time, nor death, shall ever part them more. Tis but a night, a long and moonless night; We make the grave our bed, and then are gone. Thus, at the shut of even, the weary bird Leaves the wide air, and in some lonely brake Cowers down, and dozes till the dawn of day, Then claps his well-fledged wings, and bears away. A POEM, DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE LEARNED AND EMINENT MR WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH. In silence to suppress my griefs I've tried, And kept within its banks the swelling tide! But all in vain: unbidden numbers flow; Spite of myself my sorrows vocal grow. This be my plea.--Nor thou, dear Shade, refuse The well-meant tribute of the willing muse, Who trembles at the greatness of its theme, And fain would say what suits so high a name. Which, from the crowded journal of thy fame,-- Which of thy many titles shall I name? 10 For, like a gallant prince, that wins a crown, By undisputed right before his own, Variety thou hast: our only care Is what to single out, and what forbear. Though scrupulously just, yet not severe; Though cautious, open; courteous, yet sincere; Though reverend, yet not magisterial; Though intimate with few, yet loved by all; Though deeply read, yet absolutely free From all the stiffnesses of pedantry; 20 Though circumspectly good, yet never sour; Pleasant with innocence, and never more. Religion, worn by thee, attractive show'd, And with its own unborrow'd beauty glow'd: Unlike the bigot, from whose watery eyes Ne'er sunshine broke, nor smile was seen to rise; Whose sickly goodness lives upon grimace, And pleads a merit from a blubber'd face. Thou kept thy raiment for the needy poor, And taught the fatherless to know thy door; 30 From griping hunger set the needy free; That they were needy, was enough to thee. Thy fame to please, whilst others restless be, Fame laid her shyness by, and courted thee;