At Heaven's all-pow 'rful edict is prepar'd,
And fenc'd around with an immortal guard.
Tribes, provinces, dominions, worlds, o'erflow
The mighty plain, and deluge all below :
And ev'ry age and nation pours along;
Nimrod and Bourbon mingle in the throng:
Adam falutes his youngest fon; no fign
Of all thofe ages which their births disjoin.

How empty learning, and how vain is art,
But as it mends the life, and guides the heart!
What volumes have been fwell'd, what time been
To fix a hero's birth-day or defcent? [fpent,
What joy muft it now yield, what rapture raile,
To fee the glorious race of ancient days?
To greet thofe worthies who perhaps have stood
Illuftrious on record before the flood?
Alas! a nearer care your foul demands:
Cæfar un-noted in your prefence ftands.

How raft the concourfe! not in number more The waves that break on the refounding fhore. The leaves that tremble in the fhady grove, The lamps that gild the pangled vaults above; Thofe overwhelming armies, whofe command Said to one empire, Fall; another, Stand: Whofe rear lay wrapt in night, while breaking

dawn

Rous'd the broad front, and call'd the battle on;
Great Xerxes' world in arms, proud Canna's field,
Where Carthage taught victorious Rome to yield,
(Another blow had broke the Fates decree,
And earth had wanted her fourth monarchy.)
Immortal Blenheim, fam'd Ramillia's hoft,
They all are here, and here they all are loft:
Their millions fwell to be difcern'd in vain,
Loft as a billow in th' unbounded main.

This echoing voice now rends the yielding air:
"For judgment, judgment, fons of men, prepare ""|
Earth fhakes anew; I hear her groans profound,
And hell thro' all her trembling realms refound.
Whoe'er thou art, thou greateft pow'r of carth,
Bleft with most equal planets at thy birth,
Whofe valour drew the moft fuccefsful fword,
Moft realms united in one common lord;
Who on the day of triumph, faidit, Be thine
The fkies, Jehovah, all this world is mine;
Dare not to lift thine eye-Alas, my mufe!
How art thou loft! what numbers canft thou choofe?
A fudden blush inflames the waving sky,
And now the crimson curtains open fly;
Lo! far within; and far above all height,
Where heaven's great Sov'reign reigns in worlds
of light,

Whence nature He informs, and with one ray
Shot from his eye, does all her works furvey,
Creates, fupports, confounds! where time and place.
Matter, and form, and fortune, life, and grace,
Wait humbly at the footitcol of their God,
And move obedient at his awful nod;
Whence he beholds us vagrant emmets craw
At random on this air-fufpended ball
(Speck of creation!): if he pour one breath,
The bubble breaks, and 'tis eternal death.

Thence iffuing 1 behold (but mortal fight Suftains not fuch a rushing fea of light!

I fee, on an empyreal flying throne
Sublimely rais'd, Heaven's everlafting Son;
Crown'd with that majefty which form'd the world,
And the grand rebel flaming downward hurl'd.
Virtue, dominion, praife, omnipotence,
Support the train of their triumphant Prince.
A zone, beyond the thought of angels bright,
Around him, like the zodiac, winds its light.
Night fhades the folemn arches of his brows,
And in his check the purple morning glows.
Where'er ferene he turns propitious eyes,
Or we expect, or find, a paradife :
But if refentment reddens their mild beams,
The Eden kindles, and the world's in flames.
On one hand, knowledge fhines in purcft light;
On one, the fword of justice, fiercely bright.
Now bend the knee in fport, prefent the reed;
Now tell the fcourg'd Impoftor he fhall bleed!

Thus glorious, thro' the courts of heaven, the Of life and death eternal bends his courfe; [fource Loud thunders round him roll,and lightnings play, Th' angelic hoft is rang'd in bright array; Some touch the ftring, fome ftrike the founding And mingling voices in rich concert fwcl; [fhell, Voices feraphic! bleft with fuch a ftrain, Could Satan hear, he were a god again.

Triumphant King of Glory! Soul of blifs! What a ftupendous turn of fate is this! O! whither art thou rais'd above the fcorn And indigence of him in Bethlem born; A needlets, helplefs, unaccounted guest, And but a fecond to the fodder'd beatt! How chang'd from him who, meekly proftrate laid, Vouchfaf'd to wash the feet himself had made! From him who was betray'd, forfook, denied, Wept, languifh'd, pray'd, bled, thirsted, grean'd,

and died;

Hung, piere'd and bare, infulted by the foe;
All heaven in tears above, earth unconcern'd below!

And was 't enough to bid the Sun retire? Why did not Nature at thy grean expire? I fee, I hear, I feel, the pangs divine; The world is vanifh'd-I am wholly thine.

Mistaken Caiaphas! ah! which blafphem'd, Thou or thy Prisner which thall be condemn'd? Well might it thou rend thy garments, weil exDeep are the horrors of etcraal Hame! [claim; But God is good; 'tis wondrous all! Ev'n He Thou gav it to death, fhame, toiture, died for thee. Now the defcending triumph ftops its flight From carth full twice a planetary height. There all the clouds condens'd two columns raife Diftin&t with orient veins, and golden blaze : One fix'd on earth, and one in fea; and round Its ample foot the fwelling billows found. I hefe an immeaturable arch fupport, The grand tribunal of this awful court. Sheets of bright azure form the purest sky, Streain from the cryftal arch, and round the columns fly.

Death, wrapt in chains, low at the bafis lies,
And on the point of his own arrow dies.

Here high enthron'd th' eternal Judge is plac'd, With all the grandeur of his Godhead grac'd; Stars

Thy pleafure points the fhaft and bends the bow,
The clufter blafts, or bids it brightly glow:
'Tis thou that lead ft our pow'rful armies forth,
And giv'ft great Anne thy fceptre o'er the north.
"Grant I may ever, at the morning ray,
Open with pray'r the confecrated day;
Tune thy great praife, and bid my foul arife,
And with the mounting fun afcend the skies!
As that advances, let my zeal improve,
And glow with ardour of confummate love;
Nor ceafe at eve, but with the fetting fun
My endless worship fhall be ftill begun.

And, oh, permit the gloom of tolemn night
To facred thought may forcibly invite.
When this world's fhut, and awful planets rife,
Call on our minds, and raife them to the fkius:
Compofe our fouls with a less dazzling fight,
And thew all nature in a milder light;
How ev'ry boift'rous thought in calms fubfides;
How the fmooth'd fpirit into goodness glides!
O how divine, to tread the milky way
To the bright palace of the Lord of day!
His court admire, or for his favour fue,
Or leagues of friendship with his faints renew!
Pleas'd to look down, and fee the world asleep,
While I long vigils to its Founder keep! [troul,

"Canft thou not shake the centre? Oh conSubdue by force, the rebel in my foul! Thou, who canft ftill the raging of the flood, Reftrain the various tumults of my blood; Teach me, with equal firmnefs, to fuftain Alluring pleasure, and affaulting pain. O may I pant for Thee in each defire, And with strong faith foment the holy fire! Stretch out my foul in hope, and grafp the prize Which in Eternity's deep bofom lies! At the Great Day of recompence behold, Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold! Then, wafted upward to the blissful feat, From age to age my grateful fong repeat; My Light, my Life, my God, my Saviour fee, And rival angels in the praife of Thee!"

Stars on his robes in beauteous order meet,
And the fun burns beneath his awful feet.
Now an archangel eminently bright,
From off his filver ftaff, of wondrous height,
Unfurls the Chriftian flag, which waving flies,
And fhuts and opens more than half the fkies:
The Crofs fo ftrong a red, it sheds a stain
Where'er it floats, on earth, and air, and main;
Flufhes the hill, and fets on fire the wood,
And turns the deep-dyed occan into blood.

Oh formidable Glory! dreadful bright!
Refulgent torture to the guilty fight!
Ah turn, unwary mufe, nor dare reveal
What horrid thoughts with the polluted dwell.
Say not (to make the Sun fhrink in his beam)
Dare not affirm, they with it all a dream;
With or their fouls may with their limbs decay,
Or God be fpoil'd of his eternal fway.
But rather if thou know'ft the means, unfold
How they with tranfport might the fcene behold.

Ah how but by Repentance-by a mind Quick and fevere its own offence to find? By tears, and groans, and never-ceafing care, And all the pious violence of pray'r? Thus then, with fervency till now unknown, I caft my heart before th' eternal throne, In this great temple, which the fkies furround, For homage to its Lord a narrow bound: [weigh, "O Thou! whofe balance does the mountains Whofe will the wild tumultuous feas obey, Whofe breath can turn those wat'ry worlds to flame,

That flame to tempeft, and that tempeft tame;
Earth's mean eft fon, all trembling, proftrate falls,
And on the bounties of thy goodnets calls.
"O give the winds all paft offence to fweep,
To fcatter wide, or bury in the deep:
Thy pow'r, my weak nefs, may I ever fee,
And wholly dedicate my foul to thee!
Reign o'er my will; my paffions ebb and flow
At thy command, nor human motive know !
If anger boil, let anger be my praise,
And in the graceful indignation raise.
My love be warm to fuccour the distress'd,
And lift the burden from the foul opprefs'd.
O may my understanding ever read
This glorious volume, which thy wifdom made!
Who decks the maiden Spring with flow'ry pride:
Who calls forth Summer like a sparkling bride?
Who joys the mother Autumn's bed to crown?
And bids old Winter lay her honours down?
Not the great Ottoman, or greater Czar,
Not Europe's arbitrefs of peace and war.
May fea and land, and earth and heaven be join'd,
To bring th' eternal Author to my mind!
When oceans roar, or awful thunders roll,
May thoughts of thy dread vengeance shake
my foul!

When earth's in bloom, or planets proudly fhine,
Adore, my heart, the Majesty divine!
Thro' ev'ry scene of life, or peace, or war,
Plenty, or want, thy glory be my care!
Shine we in arms, or fing beneath our vine?
Thine is the vintage, and the conqueft thine;

Fables for the Female Sex. MOORE.

§ 310. FABLE I. The Eagle and the Affembly of Birds.

The

The proud, the envious, and the vain, The jilt, the prude, demand my ftrain; To thefe, detefting praife, I write, And vent in charity my fpite: With friendly hand I hold the glafs To all, promifcuous, as they pals: Should folly there her likenefs view, I fret not that the mirror's true; If the fantastic form offend, I made it not, but would amend. Virtue, in ev'ry clime and age, Spurns at the folly-foothing page; While fatire, that offends the car Of vice and paffion, pleafes her.

Premifing this, your anger spare; And claim the fable you who dare.

The birds in place, by fictions prefs'd,
To Jupiter their pray'rs addrefs'd :
By fpecious lyes the ftate was vex'd
Their counfels libellers perplex'd;
They begg'd (to stop feditious tongues)
A gracious hearing of their wrongs.
Jove grants the fuit. The Eagle fate
Decider of the grand debate.

The Pye, to truft and pow'r preferr'd,
Demands permiffion to be heard.
Says he, Prolixity of phrase
You know I hate. This libel fays,
"Some birds there are, who, prone to noife,
Are hir'd to filence wifdom's voice;
And, fkill'd to chatter out the hour,
Rife by their emptiness to pow'r."
That this is aim'd direct at me,
No doubt you'll readily agree;
Yet well this fage aflembly knows,
By parts to government I'rofe.
My prudent counfels prop the ftate
Magpies were never known to prate.

;

The Kite rofe up. His honeft heart
In virtue's fufferings bore a part.
That there were birds of prey he knew
So far the libeller faid true :

;

Voracious, bold, to rapine prone, Who knew no int'reft but their own; Who hov'ring o'er the farmer's yard, Nor pigeon, chick, nor duckling fpar'd." This might be true; but, if applied To him, in troth the flanderer lved. Since ign'rance then might be misled, Such things, he thought, were beft unfaid. The Crow was vex'd. As yefter-morn He flew across the new-fown corn, A fcreaming boy was fet for pay, He knew, to drive the crows away; Scandal had found him out in turn, And buzz'd abroad that crows love corn. The Owl arofe with folemn face, And thus harangued upon the cafe : That magpies prate, it may be true; A kite may be voracious too; Crows fometimes deal in new-fown peafe; He libels not, who ftrikes at thefe : The flander's here" But there are birds, Whose wisdom lies in looks not words;

Blund'rers, who level in the dark,
And always fhoot befide the mark."
He names not me; but thefe are hints,
Which manifeft at whom he fquints;
I were indeed that blund'ring fowl,
To queftion if he meant an owl.

Ye wretches, hence the Eagle cries, 'Tis confcience, confcience that applies; The virtuous mind takes no alarm, Secur'd by innocence from harm; While Guilt, and his affociate Fear, Are ftartled at the paffing air.

$ 311. FABLE II. The Paber, the Horf, and other Beafts.

THE man who fecks to win the fair

(So custom fays) must truth forbear;
Muft fawn and flatter, cringe and lye,
And raife the goddess to the sky.
For truth is hateful to her ear;
A rudeness which the cannot bear.
A radenets! Yes, I fpeak my thoughts;
For truth upbraids her with her faults.

How wretched, Chloe, then am I, Who love you, and yet cannot lye! And ftill, to make you lefs my friend, I ftrive your errors to amend! But fall the fenfelefs fop impart The fofteft paffion to your heart; While he, who tells you honeft truth, And points to happinefs your youth, Determines, by his care, his lot, And lives neglected and forgot?

Truft me, my dear, with greater cafe Your tafte for flatt'ry I could please; And fimiles in each dull line,

Like glow-worms in the dark, fhould shine. What if I fay your lips difclofe The freihnels of the op'ning rofe? Or that your checks are beds of flow'rs, Enripen'd by refreshing show'rs? Yet certain as thefe flow'rs fhall fade, Time ev'ry beauty will invade. The butterfly of various hue, More than the flow'r, refembles you; Fair, flutt'ring, fickle, bufy thing, To pleafure ever on the wing, Gaily coquetting for an hour, To die and ne'er be thought of more.

Would you the bloom of youth should laft ?

'Tis virtue that must bind it faft;
An caly carriage wholly free
From four referve, or levity;
Good-natur'd mirth, an open heart,
And looks unfkill'd in any art;
Humility enough to own

The frailties which a friend makes known,
And decent pride enough to know
The worth that virtue can bestow.

Thefe are the charms which ne'er decay, Though youth and beauty fade away; And time, which all things elfe removes, Still heightens virtue, and improves.

You'll