The Cadiz sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 184?-1851, 1844-12-04

Written for the Cadis Sentinel.
THE SCEPTIC'S TASK.
BY THE LEYDEN BARD.

THE sCEPTIo's TASK.
BY THE LEYDEN BARD.
Go, sceptic, go, a voice mysterious calls,
At evenings silent hour from -afar,
That courts thy presence at bOunteous feast,
Go, muse upon the understanding scene;
Behold the picture in the view displayed;
Give ear profound, and list whilst Nature speaks.
See'st thou The setting sum- How beautiful
The red horizon in It's grandeur glows!
What varied hues of pink and purple cast
Along the cloudless arch of yon blue sky;
Its wide expanss spread DER the Stumbling hills,
Hinged with an eth'ry cast of molten gold!
See how the broad horizons fading blue,
Slowly beyond the mountains brow recedes,
And disappears beneath the gorgeous veil
Of crimson drapery. Fainter it glows,
And fainter still the eyrie dome becomes,
Till shadows grey, perceptible, apace,
Steal e'er a silent, and d~rudge-weary world.
How come these changes-where the vast machine
That moves at will, with such precision loo,
This harmony of scenery around?
Feel'st thou the twilight? How its mellow shades
Come creeping with their soft and zeph'ry chill
Whilst all the warmth, and sultry sitting heat,
Which fingered yet behind the vanishing sun,
Is secuted, and replaced with freshness sweet.
Another change-mark thou the changes well,
Hearst thou yon brook? How by the mountains
base
1t murmurs through bough-spring arches green,
Where solitude in MONDAY shadows reigng,
And silence hovers through the watch of night
What melody floats, in its mournful voice!
The heart lis sympathies must needs unfold
To that sweet pathos which salutes the ear;
And with its echoes oft a "God speed" send,
AS downward through the lovely glen they glide,
And die upon the distant neighb'ring hills.
Hearst thou yon bird? Throughout the day he
slept,
But now he fills the forest far and wide
With the shrill music of his mournful song.
Why sing when all his compeers are al rest?
Why sang he not with them i'll shady groves,
AT morning, or the noontide'S sultry hoar?
Is his TO theirs a far superior song
That now alone his chantings must be heard?
Mark that bird we'll; for some mysterious thing
Has taught HIM this-a hidden master hand
Must thus have formed him for such duty rare.
Behold'st yon star? How brilliantly it shines
Alone within that arch of darkest blue!
Twinkling, and sparkling, 10! it g%litters there
As though a vast array Of costly gems
Had all conccntred in one lovely spot,
Which brighter flashed the darkerdarknoss grew.
Who placed I there9 Came 1t by chance to grace
The clear curtain twilight left behind?
Came it by accident SO happily there2
And what presumptuous hand the glory seeks
Of sending forth that lovely, lovely start
See'st thou the moon? How lovely she ascends
The distant summit of the eastern hill!
See on the smooth still lake, and placid streams
The rolling fountains, and the CLASSY rilis,
She bathes the bright reflection of her beams.
Behold her too upon the clitf-walled shore
How sweetly on old oceans face she smiles!
The queen of night, clad in her fair costume.
Now down upon her toilet mirror looks
With modest glance, and wild absorbing grace,
AS though apprGzed of all her envied charms!
See the reflection! Oh how beautiful
Are all the sparkling s~plendors of the night!
Feel'st thou her poweri What hand SO largely
flId
Could give away prerogatives like these
To charm and awe-to melt ana soothe the soul
Do'st wonder now?-what simple won der this
Grasp, graspthe book glide slowly DER the page
Read slowly on: read once, then read again;
And realize the truth thou'st long d~espised,
That natures works bespeak an AUTHOR great
Go, sceptic, 60, let wisdom be thy guide;
She can conduct thee to the font of Truth.
She points afar TO that eternal spring,
Whose draughts the dropping spirit can revive
Can make sin tremble--stagger unbelief-
Dispel rash doubt, and Danish fell despair
Fill the cold bosom with inspiring faith
Bring back tho unbelisver TO the fold;
And force the willy sceptic 10 confess
That, mans immortal, and THERE Is A GoD!
Pittsburgh, Pa.