Thomas Russell (1762-1788)

Religion

Too long, alas! through life's tempestuous tide,

Heedless of heaven my giddy course I steered,

Linked with the scoffing crew, nor aught revered

Great nature's god: such erring dreams belied

My fancy, swollen with unsubstantial pride:

While, uglier far than have been feigned or feared,

Ten thousand phantoms to my sight appeared

And drew me darkling far from truth aside.

But vigorous now, with eagle-ken restored,

By nobler means aiming at nobler ends,

To the mild bosom of its saving lord,

Elate with ardent hope my soul ascends,

While over the dreadful gulf yet unexplored

Religion's golden sun its evening beam extends.

Ingenious insect, but of ruthless mould,

Whose savage craft (as nature taught) designs

A mazy web of death; the filmy lines

That form thy circling labyrinth enfold

Each thoughtless fly that wanders near the hold,

Sad victim of thy guile; nor aught avail

His silken wings nor coat of glossy mail

Nor varying hues of azure, jet or gold:

Yet, though thus ill the fluttering captive fares,

Whom heedless of the fraud thy toils trepan,

Thy tyrant fang that slays the stranger, spares

The bloody brothers of thy cruel clan;

While man against his fellows spreads his snares--

Then most delighted when his prey is man.

(See Robert Frost's sonnet "Design.")