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And in the place of heaven's eternal King
Set up the phantom Chance. For them in vain
Alternate feafons cheer'd the rolling year;
In vain the fun o'er herb, tree, fruit and flow'r
Shed genial influence mild; and the pale moon
Repair'd her waning orb.-Next thefe is plac'd
The vile blafphemer; he whofe impious wit
Profan'd the facred myfteries of faith,
And 'gainst th' impenetrable walls of heav'n
Planted his feeble battery. By these stands
The Arch-Apoftate: he with many a wile
Exhorts them ftill to foul revolt. Alas!
No hope have they from black despair, no ray
Shines through the gloom to cheer their finking
Conduct my steps, fafe from the fiery gulph
And dark abyfs, where Sin and Satan reign!
But can the Mufe, her numbers all too weak,
Tell how that reftiefs element of fire
Shall wage with feas and earth inteftine war,
And deluge all creation? Whether (fo
Some think) the comet, as through fields of air
Lawlefs he wanders, fhall ruth headlong on
Thwartingth' ecliptic, where th'unconfcious carth
Rolls in her wonted courfe; whether the fun
With force centripetal into his orb
Attract her, long reluctant; or the caves,
Thofe dread volcanos, where engend'ring lie
Sulphureous minerals, from their dark abyfs
Pour streams of liquid fire; while from above,
As erft on Sodom, Heaven's avenging hand
Rains fierce combuftion.-Where are now the
In agonies of grief they curfe the hour
When firft they left Religion's onward way.
Thefe on the left are rang'd: but on the right
A chofen band appears, who fought beneath
The banner of Jehovah, and defied
Satan's united legions. Some, unmov'd
At the grim tyrant's frown, o'er barb'rous climes
Diffus'd the Gofpel's light: fome long immur'd
(Sad fervitude!) in chains and dungeons pin'd;
Or, rack'd with all the agonies of pain, [they
Breath'd out their faithful lives. Thrice happy
Whom Heav'n elected to that glorious ftrife!
Here are they plac'd, whofe kind munificence
Made heaven-born Science raife her drooping
And on the labours of a future race [head;
Entail'd their just reward. Thou amongst thefe,
Good Seaton whofe well-judg'd benevolence
Foft'ring fair Genius, bade the poet's hand
Bing annual off 'rings to his Maker's fhrine,
Shalt find the generous care was not in vain.—
Here is that fav'rite band, whom mercy mild,
God's beft-lov'd attribute, adorn'd; whofe gate
Stood ever open to the ftranger's call;
Who fed the hungry; to the thirsty lip
Reach'd out the friendly cup; whofe care benign
From the rude blaft fecur'd the pilgrim's fide;
Who heard the widow's tender tale, and fhook
The galling fhackle from the pris'ner's feet;
Who each endearing tie, each office knew
Of meek-eyed, heaven-defcended Charity.
O Charity, thou nymph divinely fair!
Sweeter than thofe whom ancient poets bound
In amity's indiffoluble chain,
The Graces! how fhall I effay to paint
Thy charms, celeftial maid! and in rude verfe
Blazon thofe deeds thyfelf didit ne'er reveal?
For thee nor rankling Envy can infect,
Nor Rage tranfport, nor high o'erweening Pride
Puff up with vain conceit: ne'er didft thou fmile
To fee the finner as a verdant tree
Spread his luxuriant branches o'er the stream;
While, like fome blafted trunk, the righteous fall
Proftrate, forlorn. When prophecies fhall fail,
When tongues fhall ceale, when knowledge is no
And this great day is come, thou by the throne
Shalt fit triumphant. Thither, lovely maid!
Bear me, O hear me on thy foaring wing,
And through the adamantine gates of heav'n
Of art, the toil of ages-Where are now [works
Th' imperial cities, fepulchres, and domes,
Trophies and pillars? Where is Egypt's boaft,
Thofe lofty pyramids, which high in air
Rear'd their afpiring heads, to diâant times
Of Memphian pride a lafting monument -
Tell me where Athens rais'd her tow'rs? where
Open'd her hundred portals?-Tell me where
Stood fea-girt Albion where imperial Rome,
Propt by feven hills, fat like a fceptred queen,
And aw'd the tributary world to peace?--
Shew me the rampart which o'er many a hill,
Through many a valley, stretch'd its wide extent,
Rais'd by that mighty monarch to repel
The roving Tartar, when with infult rude
'Gainft Pekin's tow'rs he bent th' unerring bow.
But what is mimic art? E'en Nature's works,
Seas, ineadows, paftures, the meand'ring ftreams,
And everlafting hills, fhall be no more.
No more fhall Teneriff, cloud-piercing height
O'erhang th' Atlantic furge; nor that fam'd cliff,
Thro' which the Perfian fteer'd with many a fail,
Throw to the Lemnian ifle its evening fhade
O'er half the wide Ægean.-Where are now
The Alps that confin'd with unnumber'd realms,
And from the Black Sea to the ocean ftream
Stretch'd their extended arms?-Where's Ararat,
That hill on which the faithful patriarch's ark,
Which feven long months had voyag'd o'er its top,
First rested, when the earth with all her fons,
As now by ftreaming cataracts of fire,
Was whelim'd by mighty waters ?-All at once
Are vanith'd and diffolv'd; no trace remains,
No mark of vain diftinction: heaven itfelf,
That azure vault, with all thofe radiant orbs,
Sinks in the univerfal ruin loft.
No more fhall planets round their central fun
Move in harmonious dance; no more the moon
Hang out her filver lamp; and thofe fix'd stars,
Spangling the golden canopy of night,
Which oft the Tufcan with his optic glafs
Call'd from their wondrous height, to read their
And magnitude, fome winged minifter [names
Shall quench; and (surest sign that all on earth
Is loft) fhall rend from heaven the mystic bow.
Such is that awful, that tremendous day,
Whofe coming who fhall tell? For as a thicf Unheard, unfeen, it fteals with filent pace [I fit, Through night's dark gloom.-Perhaps as here And rudely carol thefe incondite lays, [mouth Soon fhall the hand be check'd, and dumb the That lifps the falt'ring ftrain.-O may Intrude unwelcome on an ill-fpent hour; But find me wrapt in meditations high, Hymning my great Creator!————— "Pow'r Supreme! "O everlafting King! to thee I kneel, "To thee I lift my voice. With fervent heat "Melt, all ye elements' And thou, high heav'n, "Shrink like a thrivell'd feroll! But think, OLord, "Think on the beft, the nobleft of thy works; "Think on thine own bright image! Think on
"Who died to fave us from thy righteous wrath; "And 'midst the wreck of worlds remember man!"
$52. Hymns. By Mrs. BARBAULD.
Quid prius dicam folitis Parentis
Laudibus quires hominum ac decrum,
Qui mare ac terras. variifque mundum
Temperat horis ?
HYMN I. EHOVAH reigns: let ev'ry nation hear, And at his footftool bow with holy fear; Let heaven's high arches echo with his name, And the wide peopled carth his praise proclaim Then fend it down to hell's deep glooms refounding, [ing. Thro' all her caves in dreadful murmurs found He rules with wide and abfolute command O'er the broad ocean and the ftedfaft land: Jehovah reigns, unbounded and alone,
And all creation hangs beneath his throne: 'He reigns alone; let no inferior nature Ufurp or share the throne of the Creator.
At length fhe rofe complete in finifh'd pride,
All fair and fpotlefs, like a virgin bride:
Fresh with untarnish'd luftre as she stood,
Her Maker blefs'd his work, and call'd it good,
The morning stars, with joyful acclamation,
Exulting fung, and hail'd the new creation.
He faw the ftruggling beams of infant light Shoot thro' the maffy gloom of ancient night; His fpirit hufh'd the elemental ftrife,
And brooded o'er the kindling feeds of life: Scafons and months began the long proceffion, And meafur'd o'er the year in bright fucceflion.
The joyful fun fprung up th' ethereal way,
Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay;
And the pale moon diffus'd her thadowy light
Superior o'er the dufky brow of night;
Ten thoufand glittering lamps the fkies adorning
Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of
Earth's blooming face with rifing flow'rs he
And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breaft;
Then from the hollow of his hand he pours
The circling waters round her winding thores,
The new-born world in their cool arms cm-
bracing,. And with foft murmurs ftill her banks careffing.
PRAISE to God, immortal praise*,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bountcous fource of ev'ry joy,
Let thy praife our tongues employ;
For the bleffings of the field,
For the ftores the gardens yield,
For the vine's exalted juice,
For the gen'rous olive's ufe;
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow fheaves of ripen'd grain,
Clouds that drop their fatt'ning dews,
Suns that temp'rate warmth diffuse;
All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the fmiling land;
All that lib'ral Autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing ftores:
Thefe to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our bleffings flow;
And for thele my foul fhall raife
Grateful vows and folemn praise.
Yet, fhould rifing whirlwinds tear
From its ftem the rip'ning car;
Should the fig-tree's blafted fhoot
Drop her green untimely fruit;
Although the fig-tree fhall not bloffom, neither fhall fruit be in the vines, the labour of the olive fhall fail, and the fields fhall yield no meat, the flocks fhall be cut off from the fold, and there fhall be no herd in the italls: yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my falvation.
HABAKKUK, iii. 17, 18.
Nor lefs the myftic characters I fee
Wrought in each flow'r, infcrib'd on ev'ry tree:
In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze
I hear the voice of God among the trees;
With thee in fhady folitudes I walk,
With thee in bufy crowded cities talk;
In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r,
In each event thy providence adore.
Thy hopes fhall animate my drooping foul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controul,
Thus thall I reft unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms,
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel my felf omnipotent in thee.
And earth recedes before my fwimming eye;
Then when the laft, the clofing hour draws nigh,
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
I ftand, and ftretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this tranfitory scene
With decent triumph and a lock ferene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.
of my life, and author of Permit my feeble voice to lifp thy praife; And trembling take upon a mortal tongue That hallow'd name to harps of Seraphs fung. Yet here the brightcft Seraphs could no more Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore. Worms, angels, men, in ev'ry diff'rent sphere Are equal all, for all are nothing here. All Nature faints beneath the mighty name Which Nature's works, thro' all her parts, pro
I feel that name my inmoft thoughts controul,
And breathe an awful ftillaefs thro' my foul;
As by a charm, the waves of grief subside;
Impetuous paffion flops her headlong tide:
At thy felt prefence all emotions ceafe,
And my huth'd fpirit finds a fudden peace,
Till ev'ry worldly thought within me dies,
And carth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes;
Till all my fenfe is loft in infinite,
And one vaft object fills my aching fight.
But foon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My foul fubmits to wear her wonted yoke;
With fhackled pinions ftrives to foar in vain,
And mingles with the drofs of earth again.
But he, our gracious Mafter, kind as juft,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is duft.
His fpirit, ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclin'd;
Marks the young dawn of ev'ry virtuous aim,
And fans the fmoking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the fofteft cry,
His grace defcends to meet the lifted
He reads the language of a filent tear,
And fighs are incente from a heart fincere.
Such are the vows, the facrifice I give;
Accept the vow, and bid the fuppliant live:
From each terreftrial bondage fet me free;
Still ev'ry with that centres not in thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain difquiets ccafe,
And point my path to everlafting peace.
If the foft hand of winning pleasure leads By living waters, and thro' flow'ry meads, When all is smiling, tranquil, and ferene, And vernal beauty paints the flatt'ring scene, Oh! teach me to elude cach latent fnare, And whisper to my fliding heart-Beware! With caution let me hear the Svren's voice, And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice Jf friendless in a vale of tears I ftrav, Where briers wound, and thorns perplex my way, Still let my fleady foul thy goodne's fee, And with ftrong confidence lay hold on thee; With equal eve my various lot receive, Refign'd to die, or refolute to live; Prepard to kiss the fceptre or the rod, While God is feen in ail, and all in God.
I read his awful name emblazon'd high With golden letters on th' illumin'd ky;
§ 54. A Summer Evening's Meditation. Mrs. BARBAULD. One fun by day, by night ten thousand shine.
TIS paft! the fultry tyrant of the fouth
Has fpent his fhort-liv'd rage: more grate
Move filent on the fkies no more repel
The dazzled fight; but, with mild maiden beams
Of temper'd light, invite the cherish'd eye
To wander o'er their fphere; where hung aloft
Dian's bright crefcent, like a filver bow
New ftrung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns,
Impatient for the night, and feems to push
Her brother down the fky. Fair Venus fhines
Ev'n in the eye of day; with sweetest beam
Propitious thines, and flakes a trembling flood
Of soften'd radiance from her dewy locks.
The fhadows fpread apace; while meeken'd Eve,
Her check yet warm with bluthes, flow retires
Thro' the Hefperian gardens of the west,
And shuts the gates of day. 'Tis now the hour
When Contemplation, from her funless haunts,
The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth
Of unpierc'd woods, where wrapt in filent fhade
She mus'd away the gaudy hours of noon,
And fed on thoughts unripen'd by the fun,
Moves forward; and with radiant finger points
To you blue concave fwell'd by breath divine,
Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven
Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of æther
One boundlefs blaze; ten thousand trembling
And dancing luftres, where th' unsteady eye,
Reftlefs and dazzled, wanders unconfin'd
O'er all this field of glories: fpacious field,
And worthy of the master: he whofe hand,
With hieroglyphics elder than the Nile,
Infcrib'd the mystic tablet; hung on high
To public gaze; and faid, Adore, O man,
The finger of thy God! From what purc
Said, Thus let all things be, and thus they were,
Where thall I feek thy prefence? how unblam'd
Invoke thy dread perfection -
Have the broad eye-lids of the morn beheld thee?
Or does the beamy fhoulder of Orion
Support thy throne O look with pity down
On ering, guilty man! not in thy names
Of terror clad; not with thofe thunders arm'd
That confcious Sinai felt, when fear appall'd
The scatter'd tribes! Thou haft a gentler voice,
That whispers comfort to the fivelling heart,
Abafh'd, yet longing to behold her Maker.
Of milky light, what foft o'erflowing urn, Are all thefe lamps fo fill'd thefe friendly lamps, For ever streaming o'er the azure deep To point our path, and light us to our home. How foft they flide along their lucid fpheres! And, filent as the foot of Time, fulfil Their deftin'd courfes: Nature's felf is hufh'd, And, but a scatter'd leaf, which ruftles thro' The thick-wove foliage, not a found is heard To break the midnight air; tho' the rais'd car, Intenfely lift'ning, drinks in ev'ry breath. How deep the filence, yet how loud the praise! But are they filent all? or is there not A tongue in ev'ry ftar that talks with man, And wooes him to be wife nor wooes in vain: This dead of midnight is the noon of thought, And wifdom mounts her zenith with the ftars. At this still hour the felf-collected foul Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there Of high defcent, and more than mortal rank; An embryo God; a spark of fire divine, Which must burn on for ages, when the fun (Fair tranfitory creature of a day!) Has clos'd his golden eye, and, wrapt in fhades, Forgets his wonted journey thro' the caft.
Ye citadels of light, and feats of Gods! Perhaps my future home, from whence the foul, Revolving periods paft, may oft look back, With recollected tenderness, on all The various bufy fcenes the left below, Its deep-laid projects and its ftrange events, As on fome fond and doting tale that footh'd Her infant hours-O be it lawful now To tread the hallow'd circle of your courts, And with mute wonder and delighted awe Approach your burning confines !---Seiz'd in On fancy's wild and roving wing I fail [thought, From the green borders of the peopled earth, And the pale moon, her duteous fair attendant; From folitary Mars; from the vast orb Of Jupiter, whofe huge gigantic bulk Dances in ether like the lightest leaf; To the dim verge, the fuburbs of the system, Where cheerless Saturn, 'midst his wat'ry moons, Girt with a lucid zone, in gloomy pomp, Sits like an exil'd monarch: fearlets thence I launch into the tracklefs deeps of space, Where, burning round, ten thousand funs appear, Of elder beam; which afk no leave to thine Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light From the proud regent of our fcanty day; Sons of the morning, firft-born of creation, And only lefs than him who marks their track, And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I ftop, Or is there aught beyond? What hand unfeen Impels me onward thro' the glowing orbs Of habitable nature, far remote,
To the dread confines of eternal night,
To folitudes of vaft unpeopled face,
The deferts of creation, wide and wild,
Where embryo fyftems and unkindled funs
Sleep in the womb of chaos? Fancy droops,
And thought astonish'd stops her bold carcer.
But, oh thou mighty Mind whofe pow'rful word
But now my foul, unus'd to ftretch her pow'rs In flight fo daring, drops her weary wing, And fecks again the known accuftom'd spot, Dreft up with fun, and thade, and lawns, and A manfion fair and fpacious for its guckt, [ftreams; And full replete with wonders. Let me here, Content and grateful, wait the appointed time, And ripen for the fkics: the hour will come When all thefe fplendours burfting on my fight Shall ftand unveil'd, and to my ravish'd fenfe Unlock the glories of the world unknown.