Hark! when thy breath her fong impels,
How full the tuneful current fwells.
Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue
Inftruct the nightly ftrains of Y-;
But thine was Homer's ancient might,
And thine victorious Pindar's flight:
Thy myrtles crown'd the Lefbian meads:
Thy voice awak'd + Sicilian reeds;
Thy breath perfumes the Į Teian rofe,
And Tiber's vine fpontaneous flows;
While Horace wantons in thy quire;
The gods and beroes of the lyre.
See where the pale, the fick ning fage
(A prey perhaps to fortune's rage,
Perhaps by tender griefs oppreft,
Or glooms congenial to his breaft)
Retires in defert-fcenes to dwell.
And bids the joyless world farewell.
Alone he treads th' autumnal shade,
Alone beneath the mountain laid,
He fees the nightly damps arife,
And gathering ftorms involve the skies;
He hears the neighb'ring furges roll,
And raging thunders thake the pole;
Then, ftruck by every object round,
And ftunn'd by ev'ry horrid found,
He pants to traverse nature's ways:
His evils haunt him thro' the maze:
He views ten thoufand demons rife,
To wield the empire of the fkies,
And Chance and Fate affume the rod,
And Malice blots the throne of GOD.
-O Thou, whofe pleafing power I fing!
Thy lenient influence hither bring;
Compofe the ftorm, difpel the gloom
Till Nature wears her wonted bloom,
Till fields and fhades their fweets exhalè,
And mufic fwell each opening gale:
Then o'er his breaft thy foftnefs pour,
And let him learn the timely hour
To trace the world's benignant laws,
And judge of that prefiding caufe
Who founds in difcord beauty's reign,
Converts to pleasure every pain,
Subdues the hoftile forms to rest,
And bids the univerfe be bleft.
O Thou, whofe pleafing power I fing! If right I touch the votive ftring, If equal praife I yield thy name, Still govern thou thy poet's flame; Still with the Mufe my bosom share, And footh to peace corroding care, But moft exert thy genial power, On friendship's confecrated hour: And while my Agis leads the road To fearless wifdom's high abode; Or, warm in freedom's facred cause, Purfuss the light of Grecian laws; Attend, and grace our gen'rous toils With all thy garlands, all thy fmiles. But if, by fortune's ftubborn fway From him and friendship torn away, I court the Mufes healing spell For griefs that ftill with abfence dwell,
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Alceus and Sappho. + Theocritus.
For he within the gloomy deeps
Its dark foundations caft,
And rear'd the pillars of the earth
Amid the watery waste.
Who fhall afcend his Sion's hill,
And fee Jehovah there?
Who from his facred fhrine fhall breathe
The facrifice of prayer?
He only whofe unfully'd foul
Fair virtue's paths has trod,
Who with clean hands and heart regards
His neighbour and his God.
On him thall his indulgent Lord
Diffufive bounties shed;
From God his Saviour fhall defcend
All bleflings on his head.
Of those who seek his righteous ways
Is this the chofen race,
Who balk in all his bounteous fmiles,
And flourish in his grace.
Lift up your stately heads, ye doors,
With hafty reverence rife;
Ye everlafting doors! who guard
The palles of the fkies.
wift from your golden hinges leap,
Your barriers roll away,
Now throw your blazing portals wide,
And burit the gates of day.
For fee the King of Glory comes
Along th' ethereal road:
The cherubs through your folds fhall bear
The triumphs of their God.
Who is this great and glorious King?
Oh! 'tis the Lord, whofe might
Decides the conquest, and fufpends
The balance of the fight.
Lift up your stately heads, ye doors!
With hafty reverence rife;
Ye everlasting doors! who guard
The paffes of the fkies.
Swift from your golden hinges leap,
Your barriers roll away,
Now throw your blazing portals wide,
And burft the gates of day;
For fee! the King of Glory comes
Along th' ethereal road:
The cherubs through your folds fhall bear
The triumphs of their God.
Who is this great and glorious King?
Oh! 'tis the God, whofe care
Leads on his Ifrael to the field,
Whose power controuls the war.
Within due bounds the mighty ocean keeps, And in their watery cavern awes the deeps: Shook by that voice, the nodding groves around Start from their roots,and fly the dreadful found. The blafted cedars low in duft are laid,
Ye mighty princes, your oblations bring, And pay due honours to your awful King; His boundless power to all the world proclaim, Bend at his fhrine, and tremble at his name. For hark! his voice, with unrefifted fway, Rules and controuls the raging of the fea;
And Lebanon is left without a shade.
See! when he fpeaks, the lofty mountains crowd,
And fly for fhelter from the thundering God:
Sirion and Lebanon like hinds advance,
And in wild measures lead th' unweildy dance.
His voice, his mighty voice, divides the fire,
Back from the blaft the fhrinking flames retire.
Ev'n Cades trembles when Jehovah fpeaks,
With all his Savages the defert thakes.
At the dread found the hinds with fear are ftung,
And in the lonely foreft drop their young,
While in his hallow'd temple all proclaim
His glorious honours, and adore his name,
High o'er the foaming furges of the fea
He fits, and bids the liftening deeps obey:
He reigns o'er all; for ever lafts his power,
Till nature finks, and time thall be no more.
With ftrength the fons of Ifrael shall he bless,
And crown our tribes with happiness and peace.
20. Pfalm 46th paraphrafed. Pitt. ON God we build our fure defence,
In God our hope repofe: His hand protects us in the fight,
And guards us from our woes,
Then, be the Earth's unwieldy frame
From its foundation burl'd,
We may, unmov'd with fear, enjoy
The ruins of the world.
What though the folid rocks be rent,
In tempelts whirl'd away?
What though the hills fhould burft their roots,
And roll into the fea?
Thou Sea, with dreadful tumults fwell,
And bid thy waters rife
In furious furges, till they dah
The flood-gates of the kies.
Our minds fhall be ferene and calm,
Like Siloah's peaceful flood;
Whofe foft and filver streams refresh
The City of our God.
Within the proud delighted waves
The wanton turrets play;
The ftreams lead down their humid train,
Reluctant to the fea.
Amid the scene the temple floats,
With its reflected towers,
Gilds all the furface of the flood,
And dances to the shores.
With wonder fee what mighty power
Our facred Sion cheers,
Lo! there amidst her stately walls,
Her God, her God appears!
Fixt on her bafis we shall stand,
And, innocently proud,
Smile on the tumults of the world,
Beneath the wings of God.
He taught me firft the pointed spear to wield,
And mow the glorious harveft of the field.
Byhim infpir'd,from strength to ftrength I pafs'd,
Plung'd through the troops, and laid the battle
In him my hopes I center and repofe, [wafte.
He guards my life, and shields me from my foes.
He held his ample buckler o'er my head,
And screen'd me trembling in the mighty shade:
Against all hoftile violence and power,
He was my fword, my bulwark, and my tower.
He o'er my people will maintain my way,
And teach my willing fubjects to obey.
Lord! what is man, of vile and humble birth,
Sprung with his kindred reptiles from the earth,
That he should thus thy fecret counfels fhare?
Or what his fon, who challenges thy care?
Why does thine eye regard this nothing, man?
His life a point, his measure but a span?
The fancy'd pageant of a moment made,
Swift as a dream, and fleeting as a fhade.
Come in thy power, and leave th' ethereal plain,
And to thy harness'd tempeft give the rein;
Yon ftarry arch fhall bend beneath the load,
So loud the chariot, and fo great the God!
Soon as his rapid wheels Jehovah rolls,
The folding skies fhall tremble to the poles:
Heav'ns gaudy Axle with the world fhall fall,
Leap from the centre, and unhinge the ball.
Touch'd by thy hands, the labouring hills ex-
Thick clouds of fmoke, and deluges of fire; [pire
On the tall groves the red deftroyer preys,
And wraps th' eternal mountains in the blaze:
Full on my foes may all thy lightnings fly,
On purple pinions through the gloomy fky.
Pil'd up with plenty let our barns appear,
Let pregnant flocks in every quarter bleat,
And burit with all the Seafons of the Year;
And drop their tender young in every street.
Safe from their labours may our oxen come,
Safe may they bring the gather'd fummer home.
To ftain our triumphs with the tears of woe.
Oh! may no fighs, no ftreams of forrow flow,
Bleft is the nation, how fincerely bleft!
Of fuch unbounded happiness poffeft,
To whom Jehovah's facred name is known,
Who claim the God of Ifrael for their own.
23. The 3d Chapter of Job. Pitt.
In words of grief, and eloquence of woe:
JOB curs'd his birth, and bade his curfes flow
Loft be that day which dragg'd me to my
Recent to life, and ftruggling from the womb;
Whence all my years in anxious circles run.
Whose beams with fuch malignant luftre fhone,
Loft be that night in undetermin'd space,
And veil with deeper fhades her gloomy face,
Which crowded up with woes this flender fpan,
While the dull mafs rofe quick'ning into man.
Shroud the blue vault, and blacken all the skies;
O'er that curs'd day let fable darkness rife,
Nor roufe from fleep the fedentary fun,
May God o'erlook it from his heavenly throne,
O'er its dark face to fhed his genial ray,
May the clouds frown, and livid poifons breathe,
And warm to joy the melancholy day.
And ftain heaven's azure with the fhade of death.
May ten-fold darkness from that dreadful
Seize and arreft the ftraggling gleams of light;
To pay due vengeance for its fatal crime,
Still be it banished from the train of time;
Nor in the radiant lift of months appear,
Extend thy hand, thou kind all-gracious God, Down from the heaven of heavensthybrightabode, And thield mefrom my foes, whofe towering pride Lowers like a storm, and gathers like a tide: Againit strange children vindicate my caufe, Who curfe thy name, and trample on thy laws;To ftain the fhining circle of the year: Who fear not vengeance which they never felt, There through her dufky range may filence Train'd to blafpheme, and eloquent in guilt: Their hands are impious, and their deeds profane; They plead their boafted innocence in vain. Thy name thall dwell for ever on my tongue, And guide the ficred numbers of my fong: To thee my Mufe shall confecrate her lays, And every note fhall labour in thy praise; 'The hallow'd theme shall teach me how to fing, Swell on the lyre, and tremble on the string. Oft has thy hand from fight the sonarch led, When death flew raging, and the battle bled; And fnatch'd thy fervant in the last despair From all the rifing tumult of the war.
Against range children vindicate my caufe,
Who carie thy name and trample on thy laws;
That our fair fons may fmile in early bloom,
Our fons, the hopes of all our years to come:
Like plants that nurs'd by fostering showers arife,
And lift their fpreading honours to the skies:
That our chafte daughters may their charms
difplay,
Like the bright pillars of our temple, gay,
Polish'd, and and
and fair as
There may no ray, no glimpse of gladnefs come;
May every star his gaudy light with-hold,
No voice to cheer the folitary gloom.
Nor through the vapour fhoot his beamy gold
Nor let the dawn with radiant fkirts come on,
Because that dreadful period fix'd my doom,
Tipp'd with the glories of the rifing fun;
To that original my ills I owe;
Nor feal'd the dark receffes of the womb.
Heir of affliction, and the fon of woe.
Oh had I died unexercis'd in pain,
Why did not Fate attend me at my birth,
And wak'd to life, to fleep in death again!
And give me back to my congenial earth?
Why was I, when an infant, footh'd to rest,
For now the grave would all my cares compofe
Lull'd on the knee, or hung upon the breast
Conceal my forrows, and inter my woes:
There wrapp'd & lock'd within his cold embrace
There with the mighty kings, who lie inroll
Safe had I lumber'd in the arms of peace;
of gold:
There with the princes, who in grandeur thone,
And aw'd the trembling nations from the throne,
Aficted Job an equal reft must have,
And thare the dark retirement of the grave;
Or as a fhapelets embryo the tomb,
Rude and imperfect from the abortive womb:
Ere motion's early principle began,
Or the dim fubftance kindled into man. [ceafe,
There from their monstrous crimes the wicked
Their labouring guilt is weary'd into peace;
There blended deep the coward and the brave;)
Stretch'd with his lord,the undistinguish'd slave
Enjoys the common refuge of the grave.
An equal lot the mighty victor hares,
And lies amidit the captives of his wars;
With his, thofe captives mingle their remains,
The Line in death, nor leffen'd by their chains.
Why are we doom'd to view the genial ray?
Why curs'd to bear the painful light of day?
O! with what joy the wretches yield their breath,
And pant in bitterness of foul for death!
As a rich prize the diftant blifs they crave,
And find the glorious treasure in the grave.
Why is the wretch condemn'd without relief
To combat woe, and tread the round of grief,
Whom in the toils of fate his God has bound,
And drawn the line of miteries around?
When nature calls for aid, my fighs intrude,
My tears prevent my neceffary food:
Like a full stream o`ercharg'd my forrows flow,
In burits of anguish, and a tide of woe;
For now the dire affliction which I fled,
Pours like a roaring torrent on my head.
My terrors ftill the phantom view'd,and wrought
The dreadful image into every thought:
At length pluck'd down, the fatal stroke I feel,
And lose the fancy'd in the real ill.
How then shall man, thus infolently proud,
Plead with his judge, and combat with his God?
How from his mortal mother can he come
Unftain'd from fin, untinétur'd from the womb?
The Lord, from his fublime empyreal throne,
As a dark globe regards the filver moon.
Thofe stars, that grace the wide celestial plain,
Are but the humbleft fweepings of his train,
Dim are the brightest fplendors of the sky;
And the fun darkens in Jehovah's eye.
But does not fin difufe a fouler stain,
Aud thicker darkness cloud the soul of man?
Shall he the depths of endless wildom know?
This thort-liv'd fovereign of the world below?
His frail original confounds his boast, [dust.
Sprung from the ground, and quicken'd from the
24. The 25th Chapter of Job paraphrafed. Pitt.
?
THEN Will vain man complain and murmur ftill,
And stand on terms with his Creator's will?
Shall this high privilege to clay be given?
Stall duft arraign the providence of Heaven?
With reafon's line the boundless distance scan
Oppole Heav'ns awful majefty to man?
To what a length his vaft dimenfions run!
How far beyond the journeys of the fun!
He bung yon golden balls of light on high,
And launch'd the planets through the liquid fky:
To rolling worlds he mark'd the certain space,
Fix'd and fuftain'd the elemental peace.
Unnumber'd as thofe worlds his armies move,
And the gay legions guard his realms above;
Higa o'er th' ethereal plains the myriads rife,
And pour their flaming ranks along the fkies:
From their bright arms inceffant fplendorsftream,
And the wide azure kindles with the gleam.
To this low world he bids the light repair, Down through the gulphs of undulating air; For man he taught the glorious fun to roll From his bright barrier to his western goal,
25. The Song of Mofes in the Fifteenth Chap
ter of Exodus, paraphrafed. Pitt.
THEN to the Lord the vait triumphant throng
Of Ifrael's fons, with Moses, rais'd the song.
To God our grateful accents will we raife,
And every tongue fhall celebrate his praife:
Behold the Lord triumphant in the fight!
Behold difplay'd the wonders of his might;
With what immortal fame and glory grac'd!
How did his power the iteeds and riders tweep
What trophies rais'd amid the watery waste!
Whom should we fear, while he, licaven's awful
Ingulph'd in & whelm'dbeneath the deep!
Unfheaths for Ifrael his avenging fword? [Lord,
His outstretch'd arm, and tutelary care,
Guarded and fav'd us in the last despair:
His mercy eas'd us from our circling pains,
Unbound our fhackles, and unlock'd our chains.
To him our God, our father's God, we'li rear
A facred temple, and adore him there
With vows and incenfe, facrifice and prayer.
The Lord commands in war: his matchless
might
Hangs out and guides the balance of the fight:
By him the war the mighty leaders form,
And teach the hovering tumult where to storm,
His name, O Ifrael, heaven's eternal Lord,
For ever honour'd, reverenc'd, and adord.
When to the fight, from Egypt's fruitful foil,
Pour'd forth in myriads all the fons of Nile;
The Lord o'erthrew the courfer and the car,
Sunk Pharaoh's pride, and overwhelm'd his war.
Beneath th' encumber'd deeps his legions lay,
For many a league impurpling all the fea:
The chiefs, and steeds, and warriors whirl'd
around,
Lay 'midit the roarings of the furges drown'd, Who shall thy power, thou mighty God, withftand,
And check the force of thy victorious hand? Thy hand, which red with wrath in terror rofe, To crush that day thy proud Egyptian foes. Struck bythathand,their drooping fquadronsfall, Crowding in death; one fateo'erwheim them all. Soon as thy anger charg'd with vengeance came, They funk like ftubble crackling in the flame. At
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