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The cavern's depth, or echoing grove,
A voice is heard of praife, and love.
As o'er thy work the feafons roll,
And footh, with change of blifs, the foul,
Oh never may their fmiling train
Pats o'er the human fcene in vain !
But oft, as on the charm we gaze,
Attune the wond'ring foul to praise;
And be the joys that most we prize
The joys that from thy favour rife!

$338. A Paraphrafe on Ifaiah xlix. 15. Mifs WILLIAMS. Can a woman forget her fucking child, that the should not have com

passion on the ton of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I Bot forget thee.

HEAVEN Speaks Oh Nature, liften and rejoice!



Oh fpread from pole to pole this gracious voice!
Say every breaft of human frame, that proves
The boundless force with which a parent loves;
Say, can a mother from her yearning heart
Bid the foft image of her child depart?
She! whom strong inftinct arms with strength to
All forms of ill, to fhield that dearest care;
She! who with anguifh ftung, with madnefs wild,
Will rush on death to fave her threaten'd child;
All felfish feelings banith'd from her breast,
Her life one aim to make another's bleft-
When her vex'd infant to her bofom clings,
When round her neck his eager arms he flings;
Breathes to her lift'ning foul his melting figh,
And lifts, fuffus'd with tears, his asking cye!
Will fhe, for all ambition can attain,
The charms of pleasure, or the lures of gain,
Betray ftrong Nature's feelings? will the prove
Cold to the claims of duty, and of love?
But fhould the mother from her yearning heart
Bid the foft image of her child depart;
When the vex'd infant to her bofom clings,
When round her neck his eager arms he flings;
Should the unpitying hear his melting tigh,
And view unmov'd the tear that fills his eye;
Should the, for all ambition can attain,
The charms of pleasure, or the lures of gain,
Betray ftrong Nature's feelings-fhould the


Cold to the claims of duty and of love!
Yet never will the God, whose word gave birth
To yon illumin'd orbs, and this fair earth;
Who thro' the boundless depths of track lefs fpace
Bade new-wak'd beauty fpread cach perfect grace;
Yet when he form'd the vast ftupendous whole,
Shed his best bounties on the human foul;
Which reafon's light illumes, which friendship


Which pity foftens, and which virtue charms;
Which feels the pure affections' gen'rous glow,
Shares others' joy, and bleeds for others' woe-
Oh never will the gen'ral Father prove
Of man forgetful, man the child of love!"
When all thofe planets in their ample spheres
Have wing'd their courfe, and roll'd their deftin'd

When wild, deftructive flames shall wrap the skies.
When Chaos triumphs, and when Nature dies;
Man fhall alone the wreck of worlds furvive,
'Midft failing fpheres, immortal man fhall live!
The voice which bade the laft dread thunders roll,
Shall whisper to the good, and cheer their foul.
God fhall himself his favour'd creature guide
Where living waters pour their blitsful tide,
Where the enlarg'd, exulting, wond'ring mind
Shall foar, from weakness and from guilt refin'd;
Where perfect knowledge, bright with cloudless
Shall gild eternity's unmeafur'd days; [rays,
Where friendship, unembitter'd by diftruft,
Shall in immortal bands unite the juft;
Devotion, rais'd to rapture, breathe her strain,
And love in his eternal triumph reign!

years; When the vaft fun fhall veil his golden light Deep in the gloom of everlafting night;

$339. A Paraphrafe on Matt. vii. 12.

Mifs WILLIAMS. Whatfoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even fo to them.

PRECEPT divine to earth in mercy given;
O facred rule of action, worthy heaven!
Whofe pitying love ordain'd the bleft command
To bind our nature in a firmer band;
Enforce each human fuff'rer's ftrong appeal,
And teach the selfish breaft what others feel;
Wert thou the guide of life, mankind might know
A foft exemption from the worst of woe;
No more the powerfu! would the weak opprefs,
But tyrants learn the luxury to blefs;
No more would flavery bind a hopeless train
Of human victims in her galling chain;
Mercy the hard, the cruel heart would move
To foften mis'ry by the deeds of love;
And av'rice from his hoarded treasures give,
Unaf'd, the liberal boon, that want might live!
The impious tongue of falfehood then would ceafe
To blaft, with dark fuggeftions, virtue's peace;
No more would fpleen or paffion banish reft,
And plant a pang in fond affection's breast;
By one harth word, one alter'd look, destroy
Her peace, and wither ev'ry op'ning joy;
Scarce can her tongue the captious wrong explain,
The flight offence which gives fo deep a pain!
Th' affected cafe that flights her starting tear,
The words whofe coldnets kills from lips to dear;-
The hand the loves, alone can point the dart,
Whofe hidden fting could wound no other heart-
Thefe, of all pains the sharpeft we endure,
The breaft which now inflicts, would spring to
No more deferted genius then would fly [cure.-
To breathe in folitude his hopeless figh;
No more would Fortune's partial fmile debafe
The fpirit, rich in intellectual grace; [bloom,
Who views unmov'd from fcenes where pleafures
The flame of genius funk in mis'ry's gloom';
The foul heaven form'd to foar, by want depreft,
Nor heeds the wrongs that pierce a kindred breaft.
Thou righteous Law, whofe clear and useful light
Sheds on the mind ray divinely bright;
Condensing in one rule whate'er the fage
Has proudly taught, in many a labour'd page;
Bid every heart thy hallow'd voice revere,
To juftice facred, and to nature dear!

§ 340.

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Thy fober Autumn fading into age,
And pale concluding Winter comes at laft,
And fhuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled
Thofe dreams of greatnefs thofe unfolid hopes
Of happiness thofe longings after fame?
Those restless cares? those busy bustling days?
Those gay-spent, feftive nights? thofe veering

Still bows fubmiffive to the tyrant hand,
That tore the fuff'rer from his native land;
Yet, ere the arts of luxury began,
They boafted liberty, the right of man ;
Serene, they faw each peaceful morning fmile,
Joy led their hours, and plenty blefs'd their toil.
Their pleading fighs, their fuppliant, moving

Daughter of Virtue! Royal Charlotte, hear!
Sovereign, yet parent of this happy ifle,
O'er whofe gay plains fair plenty deigns to fmile;
Where fpotle's peace extends her azure wing;
And liberty's enchanting bloffoms fpring;
Thine is compaffion's fympathetic figh,
The heart like thine, that feels another's pain,
The melting tear that beams in pity's eye:
Hears not diftrefs'd misfortune plead in vain ;
And lull each raging paffion into reft;
Be 't thine to heal pale forrow's wounded breast,
Let not the wretched flave in vain deplore
The long-loft joys he muft behold no more;
Then, while Britannia hails thy facred name,
A deed like this shall fwell the trump of fame;
Virtues like thine thall wake the founding lyre,
Each bofom glow with emulative fire;
And, fwell'd with themes like this, the poet's page
Remain admir'd through each fucceeding age.

When Superftition rais'd her threat'ning hand,
And scatter'd horror round the bleeding land,
On fad Britannia's ravag'd plains she stood,
Drench'd in one fatal ftream of martyr'd blood;
O'er ev'ry scene with fell delight the flew,
And finil'd, exulting, at the dreadful view;
Religion's facred truths, though once design'd
To banish error from the darken'd mind,
Avail'd not here; her pure celeftial light,
Loft in the gloom of fuperftition's night,
Drooping, beheld the fatal torrent roll
Refftlefs terrors o'er the doubtful foul;
Till bright Eliza came, whofe matchlefs fway
Call'd forth the dawn of fair religion's day;
Cherifh'd the genial influence as it rofe,
Difpell'd their errors and reliev'd their woes.
Shall Britain, then, who boasts th' unrivall'd deed,
Relentlefs, fee the guiltless victim bleed ?
Amid the horrors of tormenting pain
He feeks for mercy, but he feeks in vain ;
Affrighted Mercy quits the guilty land,
Where grim Oppreffion waves her tyrant hand;
Where, to the favage herd, a harmlefs prey
Sinks faint beneath the fervid beam of day;
Or, haply trembling in the midnight air,
Sunk in the deepest gloom of low defpair;
Or burning thirft and furious want, combin'd,
With wild distraction fire his glowing mind,
Till death restores to him eternal reft,
And calms the tumults of his troubled breast.

The British youth, torn from his much-lov'd

O'er foreign feas and foreign coafts to roam,
Amid the fury of the piercing blaft,

The fwell'd wave circling round the shiver'd maft,
While bursting peals of thunder rend the skies,
And o'er the deck the foaming billows rife,



Loft between good and ill, that fhar'd thy life?
All now are vanifh'd! Virtue fole furvives,
Immortal never-failing friend of man,
His guide to happinefs on high. And fee!
'Tis come, the glorious morn! the fecond birth
Of heaven and earth! awak'ning nature hears
The new-creating word, and starts to life,
In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death
For ever free. The great eternal fcheme,
Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting as the profpect wider fpreads,
To reason's eye refin'd clears up apace.
Ye vainly wife! ye blind prefumptuous!
Confounded in the duft, adore that Pow'r
And Wifdom oft arraign'd; fee now the cause
Why unaffuming worth in fecret liv'd,
And died neglected: why the good man's fhare
In life was gall and bitterness of foul:
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd
In ftarving folitude; while luxury,
In palaces, lay ftraining her low thought,
To form unreal wants why heaven-born truth,
And moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of fuperftition's fcourge: why licens'd pain,
That cruel fpoiler, that embolom'd foe,
Embitter'd all our blifs. Ye good diftrefs'd!
Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's preffure, yet bear up awhile,
And what your bounded view, which only faw
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more:
The ftorms of Wintry Time will quickly pafs,
And one unbounded Spring encircle all.

$341. On Slavery. Mifs H. FALCONAR.


man fuperior reafon's light was giv'n.
Reason, the nobleft gift of bounteous Heav'n,
Unfailing beam, bright intellectual ray,
Thou fteady guide through error's devious way;
Say, wert thou firft by gracious Heav'n defign'd
To ftamp injuftice on the human kind?
Forbid it truth, forbid it ev'ry breast
That heaves in pity for the wretch oppreft:
Yet reafon, juftice, mercy, plead in vain;
Still the fad victim drags his galling chain;


Awhile in terror views the lightning glare,
With ftreaming horror, through the midnight air;
The form once paft, he gains the friendly ray
Of hope, to guide him through the dang'rous way;
Smiling, the bids each future prospect rise,
Through fancy's varied mirror, to his eyes.
Not fo the flave; opprefs'd with fecret care,
He finks the haplefs victim of defpair;
Or doom'd to torments that might even move
The steely heart, and melt it into love;
Till, worn with anguish, with'ring in his bloom,
He falls an early tenant of the tomb !
Shall Britain view, unmov'd, fad Afric's fhore
Delug'd fo oft in ftreams of purple gore!
Britain, where science, peace, and plenty, smile,
Virtue's bright feat and freedom's favour'd ifle!
Rich are her plains and fruitful is her clime,
The fcourge of tyrants, and the boast of time;
Of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry worth, poffeft,
That fires the hero's or the patriot's breast:
There, nobly warm'd with animating fire,
Our Shakespeare ftruck his foul-commandinglyre;
There fcenes of blifs immortal Milton fung,
And notes harmonious iffued from his tongue :
And bards like thefe fhall boaft in ev'ry age,
While native genius glows in Hayley's page;
While genius bids, to our enchanted eyes,
In Swift's own ftrains, a fecond Pope arise.
When truth, perplex'd in error's thorny maze,
Threw o'er the world obfcur'd and darken'd rays,
Then Newton rofe, unveil'd the beauteous maid:
He fpoke, and nature ftood at once difplay'd.
Thefe were the fouls that Britain once poffefs'd,
When genuine virtue fir'd the patriot's breaft;
And ftill fhall fhe protect fair freedom's caufe,
And vindicate her violated laws;
Waft peace and freedom to a wretched land,
And fatter bletfings with a lib'ral hand.

In Britain's paradife, by freedom made,
The tree of commerce fpreads its ample shade;
Unfparing plenty bends the lofty brow,
And wealth bright glitters on cach golden bough;
On fome the richeft gems of India fhone,
And added luftre to the British throne;
Such as in gentle radiance might outvie
The melting luftre of the fparkling eye;
Such as in gay variety might grace
The native beauties of the lovely face:
On fome the bud of health, in rosy bloom,
Call'd languid fick nefs from an early tomb;
Or bade contented labour calmly fimile
O'er the rich profpect of his native foil.
One ample branch, fuperior to the rest,
Rofe to the view, in fplendid radiance dreft;
On ev'ry leaf the tempting manna hung,
In golden dyes each beauteous bloffom fprung;
The flow'rs of brighteft hue oppreffion nam'd,
Yet from the tree the rank of commerce claim'd.
Led by the fair deceit, beneath its fhade
With eager eye the flaves of av'rice ftray'd;
This fatal fruit was lovelieft to the view,
That on the spreading tree of commerce grew;
They grafp'd the baneful load with fatal hatte,
Deftructive poifon to th' enchanted tafte;

Loft in the pleafing dream, awhile the foul,
Where av'rice reign'd fecure from all controul,
Slept calm, till confcience, with unerring dart,
Struck deep conviction through the guilty heart;
And bade reflection wake the feeling mind,
That turn'd to ev'ry scene it left behind :
There might they fee the tortur'd wretch implore
Eternal vengeance on Britannia's fhore;
In filent grief, amid distraction wild,
The wretched parent mourn her long-loft child:
Thefe fcenes appear when death, in terror dreft,
Bids fharp repentance wound the fhudd'ringbreast,
When o'er your heads th' avenging thunders roll,
And quick deftruction feems to fnatch the foul;
When fast around the dreadful lightnings fall,
And guilt fhall hear th' incens'd Almighty's call;
Then will his wrath deftroy the life he gave,
And juftice fnatch the foul that mercy could not

Britain, be thine the glorious task to heal
The bleeding wounds thy wretched fons thall feel;
| Extend thy ev'ry noble pow'r to fave
The wretch juft tott'ring o'er an early grave;
For, noble were the deed that could impart
Reviving vigour to the drooping heart;
For, then no more the fatal branch thall bind,
In golden ties, the lost enchanted mind;
Tear ev'ry fibre from the verdant root,
And blaft each dang 'rous bloffom ere it shoot:
So fhall the praise of ranfom'd millions rife,
In grateful incenfe, to the echoing skies;
So through the world thy matchlefs fame extend,
And wond'ring nations hail thee mercy's friend
Thee, firft in ev'ry virtue, ev'ry worth,
That gives to glory or to genius birth;
Let thy avenging, thy all-conqu 'ring, hand
Give peace and freedom to an injur'd land!
Glory be thine; and let pale mis'ry prove
The joys of friendship and the blifs of love!
And heav'nly liberty's celeftial ray
Beam o'er the world one pure eternal day!

$342, A Prayer in the Profpect of Death. BURNS.
THOU unknown Almighty Caufe
Of all my hope and fear!
In whofe dread Prefence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!


If I have wander'd in thofe paths
Of life I ought to fhun,

As Something loudly in my breaft
Remonftrates I have done;

Thou know'ft that Thou haft formed me
With paffions wild and strong;
And lift'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.

Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stepp'd afide,

Do Thou, All-Good! for fuch Thou art,
In fhades of darkness hide.
Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,

But, Thou art good; and goodne's ftill
Delighteth to forgive.

§ 343.

8343. The Genealogy of Chrift, as it is reprefented on the Faft Window of Winchester College Chapel. Written at Winton School, by Dr.


AT once to raise our rev'rence and delight,
To elevate the mind, and pleafe the fight,
To pour in virtue at th' attentive eye,
And waft the foul on wings of echaly;
For this the painter's art with nature vies,
And bids the vifionary faint arife:
Who views the facred forms in thought afpires,
Catches pure zeal, and, as he gazes, fires;
Feels the fame ardour to his breast convey'd;
Is what he fees, and emulates the fhade.

Thy ftrokes, great Artift, fo fublime appear,
They check our pleafure with an awful fear;
While thro' the mortal line the God you trace,
Author himfelf and Heir of Jeffe's race,
In raptures we admire thy bold defign,
And, as the fubject, own the hand divine.
While thro' thy work the rifing day shall stream,
So long fhall laft thine honour, praife, and name.
And may thy labours to the Mufe impart
Some emanation from her fifter art,
To animate the verfe, and bid it thine

There Abfalom the ravish'd fceptre fways,
And his ftolen honour all his fame difplays:
The bafe ufurper Youth! who joins in one
The rebel fubject and th' ungrateful fon.

Amid the royal race, fee Nathan stand:
Fervent he feems to fpeak, and lift his hand;
His looks th' emotion of his foul difclofe,
And cloquence from ev'ry gesture flows.
Such, and so stern he came, ordain'd to bring
Th'ungrateful mandate to the guilty King:
When, at his dreadful voice, a fudden smart
Shot thro' the trembling monarch's confcious heart,
From his own lips condemn'd; fevere decree !
Had his God prov'd fo ftein a Judge as He.
But man with frailty is allied by birth;
Confummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth:
Thro' all the foul tho' virtue holds the rein,
Beats at the heart, and fprings in ev'ry vein,
Yet ever from the clearcft fource have ran
Some grofs alloy, fome tincture of the man.

In colours easy, bright, and ftrong as thine!
Supine on earth an awful figure lies,
While fofteft flumbers feem to feal his eyes;
The hoary fire Heaven's guardian care demands,
And at his feet the watchful angel stands.
The form auguft and large, the mien divine,
Betray the founder of Meffiah's line *.
Lo! from his loins the promis'd ftem afcend,
And high to Heaven its facred boughs extend:
Each limb productive of fome hero fprings,
And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings.
Th' eternal plant wide spreads its arms around,
And with the mighty branch the myftic top is

But who is he deep mufing in his mind,
He feems to weigh in reafon's fcales mankind;
Fix'd contemplation holds his steady eyes-
I know the faget, the wifeft of the wife.
Bleft with all man could with, or prince obtain,
Yet his great heart pronounc'd those bleffings vain.
And lo bright glittering in his facred hands,
In miniature the glorious temple stands.
Effulgent frame! ftupendous to bel old !
Gold the ftrong valves, the roof of burnish'd gold.
The wand'ring ark, in that bright dome enfhrin'd,
Spreads the ftrong light, eternal, unconfin'd!
Above th' unutterable glory plays,
Prefence divine! and the full-ftreaming rays
Pour thro' reluctant clouds intolerable blaze.

But ftern oppreflion rends Reboam's reign;
See the gay prince, injurious, proud, and vain !
Th' imperial fceptre totters in his hand,
And proud rebellion triumphs in the land.
Curs'd with corruption's ever-fruitful spring,
A beardlefs Senate, and a haughty King.

There Afa, good and great, the fceptre bears,
Juftice attends his peace, fuccefs his wars:
While virtue was his fword and Heaven his fhield,
Without controul the warrior fwept the field;
Loaded with spoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her fwarthy fons fad Ethiopia mourn'd.
But fince thy flagging piety decay'd,
And barter'd God's defence for human aid;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow,
Nor herbs nor healthful arts avail thee now,
Nor is Heav'n chang'd,apoftate prince, but thou.
No mean atonement does this lapfe require;
But fee the Son, you must forgive the Sire:
He, the juft prince-with ev'ry virtue bleft
He reign'd, and goodnefs all the man poffets'd;
Around his throne fair happiness and peace
Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and imil'd in ev'ry face.
As when along the burning wafte he ftray'd,
Where no pure ftreams in bubbling mazes play'd,
Where drought incumbent on the thirsty ground
Long fince had breath'd her scorching blasts around,



And lo! the glories of th' illuftrious line
At their firft dawn with ripen'd fplendours fhine,
In David all exprefs'd; the good, the great,
The king, the hero, and the man complete.
Serene he fits, and fweeps the golden lyre,
And blends the prophet's with the poet's fire.
See! with what art he ftrikes the vocal ftrings,
The God, his theme, infpiring what he fings!
x-or our cars delude us-from his tongue
Sweet flows, or feems to flow, fome heavenly fong.
Oh could thine art arreft the fleeting found,
And paint the voice in magic numbers bound;
Could the warm fun, as erft when Memnon play'd,
Wake with his rifing beam the vocal fhade;
Then might he draw th' attentive angels down,
Bending to hear the lay, fo fweet, fo like their own.
On either fide the monarch's offspring thine,
And fome adorr, and fome difgrace their line.
Here Ammon glories; proud incestuous lord!
This hand fuftains the robe, and that the fword.
Frowning and fierce, with haughty ftrides he
And on his horrid brow defiance low'rs.

* Jeffe.

+ Solomon.


The prophet calls, th' obedient floods repair
To the parch'd fields, for Jofaphat was there.
The new-fpring waves, in many a gurgling vein,
Trickle luxurious through the fucking plain;
Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn,
And o'er the defert plenty pours her horn.
So, from the throne his influence he fheds,
And bids the virtues raife their languid heads :
Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails,
Oppreffion flies, and Juftice lifts her fcales.
See, on his arm the royal cagle ftand,
Great type of conquest and fupreme command;
Th' exulting bird diftinguish d triumph brings,
And greets the Monarch with expanded wings.
Fierce Moab's fons prevent th' impending blow,
Rufh on themselves, and fall without the foe.
The pious hero vanquish'd Heaven by pray'r;
His faith an army, and his vows a war.
Thee too, Ozias, fates indulgent blefs'd,
And thy days fhone in faireft actions drest:
Till that rafh hand, by fome blind phrenfy sway'd,
Unclean, the facred office durft invade.
Quick o'er thy limbs the fcurfy venom ran,
And hoary filth befprinkled all the man.

Tranfmiffive worth adorns the pious † Son,
The father's virtues with the father's throne.
Lo! there he ftands: he who the rage fubdued
Of Ammon's fons, and drench'd his fword in


And doft thou, Ahaz, Judah's fcourge, difgrace
With thy base front the glories of thy race?
See the vile King his iron fceptre bear-
His only praise attends the pious ‡ Heir ;
He, in whofe foul the virtues all confpire,
The best good fon from the worst wicked fire.
And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign,
Long exil'd piety returns again;
Again in genuine purity the fhines,
And with her prefence gilds the long-neglected
Ill-ftarr'd does proud Affyria's impious & Lord
Bid Heaven to arms, and vaunt his dreadful fword;
His own vain threats th' infulting King o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foe.
Th' avenging Angel, by divine command,
The fiery fword full-blazing in his hand,
Leant down from heav'n: amid the stormherode,
March'd Peftilence before him; as he trod,
Pale Defolation bath'd his fteps in blood.
Thick wrapt in night thro' the proud hoft he pafs'd,
Difpenfing death, and drove the furious blast;
Nor bade Destruction give her revels o'er
Till the gorg'd fword was drunk with human gore.
But what avails thee, pious prince, in vain
Thy fceptre refcued, and th' Affyrian flain?
Even now the foul maintains her lateft ftrife,
And death's chill grafp congeals the fount of life.
Yet fee, kind Heaven renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen fummers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding fun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Tho' nature her inverted courfe forego,
The day forget to reft, the time to flow,

* Elisha.

+ Jotham.

Yet shall Jehovah's servants stand secure,
His mercy fix'd, eternal fhall endure;
On them her ever-healing rays fhall thine;
More mild and bright, and fure, Ofun! than thine.
At length the long-expected Prince behold,
The laft good King; in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar fpoke his future fame,
Rent to its bafe, at good Jofiah's name.
Bleft, happy prince! o'er whofe lamented urn,
In plaintive fong, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom fad Sion's fofteft forrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his fweet melodious woes.

But now fallen Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in duft, abandon'd, defolate;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever ftream her eyes,
And anguish tears her with convulfive fighs.
The mournful captive fpreads her hands in vain,
Her hands, that rankle with the fervile chain;
Till he, great Chief! in Heaven's appointed time,
Leads back her children to their native clime.
Fair liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envied walls fecurely rife.
And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again fhalt lift fublime thy facred head.
But, ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint refemblance of the old in you.
No more th' effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful anfwers from the myftic cloud;
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine;
And Heaven has left thy folitary fhrine.
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter fhalt thou fee,
Prefence immediate of the Deity, [Thee.
The light himfelf reveal'd, the God confefs'd in

And now at length the fated term of years
The world's defire have brought, and lo! the God


The Heavenly Babe the Virgin Mother bears,
And her fond looks confefs the parent's cares;
The pleafing burden on her breast the lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a fmile furveys:
The infant fmiles, to her fond bosom prest,
And wantons, fportive, on the mother's breast.
A radiant glory speaks him all Divine,
And in the Child the beams of Godhead fhine.

But now, alas! far other views difclofe
The blackeft comprchenfive fcene of woes.
See where man's voluntary facrifice
Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies!
Fixt to the Crofs his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy ftreams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life exhaufting roll,
And the ftrong pang that rends the stubborn foul,
As all death's tortures, with fevere delay,
Exult and riot in the nobleft prey!

And canft thou, ftupid man, thofe forrows fee,
Nor fhare the anguish which He bears for thee?
Thy fin, for which his facred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and fharpens ev'ry thorn.
Canft thou-while nature fmarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the fympathetic ground!
Lo! the black fun, his chariot backward driven,
Blots out the day, and perishes from Heaven:






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