And in the place of heaven's eternal King
Set up the phantom Chance. For them in vain
Alternate seasons 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 these is plac'd
The vile blafphemer; he whose impious wit
Profan'd the facred mysteries of faith,

And 'gainst th' impenetrable walls of heav'n
Planted his feeble battery. By these stands
The Arch-Apostate: he with many a wile
Exhorts them still to foul revolt. Alas!

No hope have they from black despair, no ray
Shines through the gloom to cheer their finking

fouls:

In agonies of grief they curse the hour
WWhen first they left Religion's onward way.

These on the left are rang'd: but on the right
A chosen band appears, who fought beneath
The banner of Jehovah, and defied

Conduct my steps, fafe from the fiery gulph
And dark abyss, where Sin and Satan reign!

Thebes

But can the Mufe, her numbers all too weak, Tell how that restless element of fire Shall wage with feas and earth intestine war, And deluge all creation? Whether (fo Some think) the comet, as through fields of air Lawlefs he wanders, shall rush headlong on Thwartingth' ecliptic, whereth'unconscious earth Rolls in her wonted course; whether the fun With force centripetal into his orb Attract her, long reluctant; or the caves, Those dread volcanos, where engend'ring lie Sulphureous minerals, from their dark abyss Pour streams of liquid fire; while from above, As erst on Sodom, Heaven's avenging fhand Rains fierce combustion. - Where are now the Of art, the toil of ages? - Where are now [works Th' imperial cities, fepulchres, and domes, Trophies and pillars Where is Egypt's boaft, Satan's united legions. Some, unmov'd Those lofty pyramids, which high in air At the grim tyrant's frown, o'er barb'rous climes Rear'd their afpiring heads, to dikant times Diffus'd the Gofpel's light: some long immur'd Of Memphian pride a lafting monument? (Sad servitude!) in chains and dungeons pin'd; Tell me where Athens rais'd her tow'rs? where Or, rack'd with all the agonies of pain, [they Whom Heav'n elected to that glorious strife!Here are they plac'd, whose kind munificence Made heaven-born Science raise her drooping And on the labours of a future race [head; Entail'd their just reward. Thou amongst thefe, Good Seaton whose well-judg'd benevolence Foft'ring fair Genius, bade the poet's hand Bring annual off 'rings to his Maker's shrine, Shalt find the generous care was not in vain. Here is that fav'rite band, whom mercy mild, God's best-lov'd attribute, adorn'd; whose gate Stood ever open to the stranger's call; Who fed the hungry; to the thirsty lip Reach'd out the friendly cup; whose care benign From the rude blast secur'd the pilgrim's fide; Who heard the widow's tender tale, and shook The galling shackle 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 those whom ancient poets bound In amity's indiffoluble chain,

Breath'd out their faithful lives. Thrice happy Open'd her hundred portals ?-Tell me where

The Graces! how shall I essay to paint
'Thy charms, celestial maid! and in rude verfe
Blazon those deeds thyself didit ne'er reveal?
For thee nor rankling Envy can infect,
Nor Rage transport, nor high o'erweening Pride
Puff up with vain conceit: ne'er didst thou smile
To see 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 shall fail,
When tongues shall cease, when knowledge is no

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 insult rude
'Gainst 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 streams,
And everlasting hills, shall be no more.

No

more shall Teneriff, cloud-piercing height
O'erhang th'Atlantic furge; nor that fam'd cliff,
Thro' which the Perfian steer'd with many a fail,
Throw to the Lemnian ifle its evening shade
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 streaming cataracts of fire,
Was whelm'd by mighty waters?-All at once
Are vanifi'd and diffolv'd; no trace remains,
No mark of vain distinction: heaven itfelf,
That azure vault, with all those radiant orbs,
Sinks in the univerfal ruin loft.

No more shall planets round their central fun
Move in harmonious dance; no more the moon
Hang out her filver lamp; and those fix'd stars,
Spangling the golden canopy of night,
Which oft the Tufcan with his optic glass
Call'd from their wondrous height, to read their
And magnitude, fotne winged minifter [names
Shall quench; and (furest sign that all on carth
Is lost, shall rend from heaven the mystic bow.
Such is that awful that tremendous day,
E2

Whofe

Whose coming who shall tell? For as a thief
Unheard, unfeen, it steals with filent pace [I fit,
Through night's dark gloom.-Perhaps as here
And rudely carol these incondite lays, (mouth
Soon shall the hand be check'd, and dumb the
That lifps the falt'ring strain. O may it ne'er
Intrude unwelcome on an ill-fpent hour;
But find me wrapt in meditations high,
Hymning my great Creator! —

-"Pow'r Supreme!
"O everlasting 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 shrivell'd fcroll! But think, OLord,
"Think on the best, the nobleft of thy works;
"Think on thine own bright image! Think on
"him

"Who died to save us from thy righteous wrath: "And 'midst the wreck of worldsrememberman!"

HORAT.

EHOVAH reigns: let ev'ry nation hear, And at his footstool bow with holy fear; Let heaven's high arches echo with his name, And the wide peopled earth his praife proclaim; Then fend it down to hell's deep glooms refounding,

At length she rose complete in finish'd pride,
All fair and spotless, like a virgin bride:
Fresh with untarnish'd luftre as the ftood,
Her Maker bless'd his work, and call'd it good,
The morning stars, with joyful acclamation,
Exulting fung, and hail'd the new creation.

Yet this fair world, the creature of a day,
Tho'built by God's right hand, muft pass away;
And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things,
The fate of empires, and the pride of kings :
Eternal night shall veil their proudest story,
And drop the curtain o'er all human glory.

The fun himself, with weary clouds oppreft,
Shall in his filent, dark pavilion reft;
His golden urn shall broke and useless lie,
Amidit the common ruins of the sky!
The stars rush headlong in the wild commotion,
And bathe their glitt'ring foreheads in the ocean.
But fix'd, O God! for ever stands thy throne;
Jehovah reigns, a universe alone;
Th' eternal fire that feeds each vital flame,
Collected or diffus'd, is still the fame.

He dwells within his own unfathom'd effence,
And fills all space with his unbounded prefence.
But oh! our highest notes the theme debase,
And filence is our least injurious praise: [troul,
Ceafe, ceafe your fongs, the daring flight con-
Revere him in the stillness of the foul;
With filent duty meekly bend before him,

[ing. And deep within your inmost hearts adore him.

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.

He saw the struggling beams of infant light
Shoot thro' the massy gloom of ancient night;
His fpirit hush'd the elemental strife,

And brooded o'er the kindling feeds of life:
Seasons and months began the long proceffion,
And measur'd o'er the year in bright fucceffion.

The joyful fun sprung 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 dusky brow of night;

Ten thousand glittering lamps the skies adorning
Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of
morning.

Earth's blooming face with rifing flow'rs he dress'd,

And fpread a verdant mantle o'er her breast; Then from the hollow of his hand he pours The circling waters round her winding thores, The new-born world in their cool arms embracing,.

And with foft murmurs still her banks careffing.

HYMN II.

PRAISE to God, immortal praife*,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bountcous fource of ev'ry joy,
Let thy praise 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 use;
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow theaves of ripen'd grain,
Clouds that drop their fatt'ning dews,
Suns that temp'rate warmth diffufe;
All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the fmiling land;

All that lib'ral Autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores:

These to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our bleffings flow;
And for these my foul shall raise
Grateful vows and folemn praise.
Yet, should rifing whirlwinds tear
From its stem the rip'ning car;
Should the fig-tree's blafted shoot
Drop her green untimely fruit;

* Although the fig-tree shall not bloffom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labour of the olive thall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my falvation. HABAKKUK, iii. 17, 18, Should

i

$53. An Address to the Deity.

Mrs. BARBAULD.

Deus et quodcunque vides, quocunque moveris.

LUCAN.

COD of my life, and author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praife;
And trembling take upon a mortal tongue
That hallow'd name to harps of Seraphs fung.
Yet here the brightest 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

Nor less the mystic 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 shady folitudes I walk,
With thee in busy crowded cities talk;
In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r,
In each event thy providence adore.
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping foul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controul.
Thus shall I rest unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms,
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myself omnipotent in thee.
Then when the last, the clofing hour draws nigh,

Which Nature's works, thro' all her parts, pro- And carth recedes before my fwimming eve;

W'hen trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
I stand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this tranfitory scene
With decent triumph and a look ferene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.

claim.

I feel that name my inmost thoughts controul,
And breathe an awful stillness thro' my foul;
As by a charm, the waves of grief subside;
Impetuous paffion stops 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,

§54. A Summer Evening's Meditation.

And one vaft object fills my aching fight.

Mrs. BARBAULD.

But foon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My foul submits to wear her wonted yoke;
With shackled pinions strives to foar in vain,
And mingles with the dross of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just,
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 softeit cry,
His grace defcends to meet the lifted eye;
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 terrestrial bondage fet me free;
Still ev'ry wish that centres not in thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets ceafe,
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 feene,
Oh! teach me to elude cach latent fnare,
And whisper to my fliding heart-Beware!
With caution let me hear the Syren's voice,
And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice
If friendless ia a vale of tears I ftray,
W'here briers wound, and thorns perplex iny way,
Still let my steady foul thy goodness fee,
And with strong confidence lay hold on thee;
With equal eve my various lot receive,
Resign'd to die, or refolute to live;
Prepar'd to kiss the fceptre or the rod,
While God is feen in all, and all in God.

I read his awful name emblazon'd high
With golden letters on th' illuinin'd fky;

One fun by day, by night ten thoufand shine. YOUNG.

TIS

past! the fultry tyrant of the south
Has spent his short-liv'd rage: more grate.
ful hours

Move filent on the skies no more repel
The dazzled fight; but, with mild maiden beame
Of temper'd light, invite the cherish'd eye
To wander o'er their sphere; where hung aloft
Dian's bright crescent, like a filver bow
New strung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns,
Impatient for the night, and feems to push
Her brother down the sky. Fair Venus shines
Ev'n in the eye of day; with sweetest beam
Propitious thines, and shakes a trembling flood
Of foften'd radiance from her dewy locks.
The shadows fpread apace; while meeken'd Eve,
Her check yet warm with blushes, flow retires
Thro' the Hesperian 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 shade
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 swell'd by breath divine,
Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven
Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of æther
One boundless blaze; ten thousand trembling embling

fires,

And dancing luftres, where th' unsteady eye,
Restlefs and dazzled, wanders unconfin'd
O'er all this field of glories: spacious field,
And worthy of the master: he whose 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 pure wells

Of

And wooes him to be wife? nor wooes in vain : And feeks again the known accustom'd spot,