THE WISH: AN ELEGY. TO URANIA. Thomas Blacklock Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1135 K093079.002 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. II. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 207-211. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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THE WISH : AN ELEGY . TO URANIA . BY THOMAS BLACKLOCK , D. D. LET others travel , with incessant pain , The wealth of earth and ocean to secure ; Then with fond hopes caress the precious bane ; In grandeur abject , and in affluence poor . But soon , too soon , in Fancy's timid eyes , Wild waves shall roll , and conflagrations spread ; While bright in arms , and of gigantic size , The fear-form'd robber haunts the thorny bed . Let me , in dreadless poverty retir'd , The real joys of life , unenvied , share : Favour'd by Love , and by the Muse inspir'd , I'll yield to Wealth its jealousy and care . On rising ground , the prospect to command , Unting'd with smoke , where vernal breezes blow , In rural neatness let my cottage stand ; Here wave a wood , and there a river flow . Oft from the neighbouring hills and pastures round , Let sheep with tender bleat salute my ear ; Nor fox insidious haunt the guiltless ground , Nor man pursue the trade of murder near : Far hence , kind heaven ! expel the savage train , Inur'd to blood , and eager to destroy ; Who pointed steel , with recent slaughter stain , And place in groans and death their cruel joy . Ye Powers of social life and tender song ! To you devoted shall my fields remain ; Here undisturb'd the peaceful day prolong , Nor own a smart but Love's delightful pain . For you , my trees shall wave their leafy shade ; For you , my gardens tinge the lenient air ; For you , be Autumn's blushing gifts display'd , And all that Nature yields of sweet or fair . But , O ! if plaints which love and grief inspire , In heavenly breasts could e'er compassion find , Grant me , ah ! grant my heart's supreme desire , And teach my dear Urania to be kind . For her , black Sadness clouds my brightest day ; For her , in tears the midnight vigils roll ; For her , cold horrors melt my powers away , And chill the living vigour of my soul . Beneath her scorn each youthful ardor dies , Its joys , its wishes , and its hopes , expire ! In vain the fields of Science tempt my eyes ; In vain for me the Muses string the lyre . O ! let her oft my humble dwelling grace , Humble no more , if there she deign to shine ; For heaven , unlimited by time or place , Still waits on god-like worth and charms divine . Amid the cooling fragrance of the morn , How sweet with her through lonely fields to stray ! Her charms the loveliest landskip shall adorn , And add new glories to the rising day . With her , all Nature shines in heighten'd bloom ; The silver stream in sweeter music flows ; Odours more rich the fanning gales perfume ; And deeper tinctures paint the spreading rose . With her , the shades of night their horrors lose , Its deepest silence charms if she be by ; Her voice the music of the dawn renews , Its lambent radiance sparkles in her eye . How sweet , with her , in Wisdom's calm recess , To brighten soft desire with wit refin'd ! Kind Nature's laws with sacred Ashley trace , And view the fairest features of the mind ! Or borne on Milton's flight , as heaven sublime , View its full blaze in open prospect glow ; Bless the first pair in Eden's happy clime , Or drop the human tear for endless woe . And when , in virtue , and in peace grown old , No arts the languid lamp of life restore ; Her let me grasp with hands convuls'd and cold , Till every nerve relax'd can hold no more . Long , long on her my dying eyes suspend , Till the last beam shall vibrate on my sight ; Then soar where only greater joys attend , And bear her image to eternal light . Fond man , ah ! whither would thy fancy rove ? 'Tis thine to languish in unpitied smart ; 'Tis thine , alas ! eternal scorn to prove , Nor feel one gleam of comfort warm thy heart . But , if my fair this cruel law impose , Pleas'd , to her will I all my soul resign ; To walk beneath the burden of my woes , Or sink in death , nor at my fate repine . Yet when , with woes unmingled and sincere , To Earth's cold womb in silence I descend ; Let her , to grace my obsequies , appear , And with the weeping throng her sorrows blend . Ah ! no , be all her hours with pleasure crown'd , And all her soul from every anguish free : Should my sad fate that gentle bosom wound , The joys of heaven would be no joys to me .