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Ye days and nights, that swiftly borne
From morn to eve, from eve to morn,
Alternate glide away,
Praife him, whofe never-varying light,
Abfent, adds horror to the night,
But, prefent, gives the day.
Light, from whofe rays all beauty springs; Darkness, whofe wide-expanded wings
Involve the dusky globe;
Praise him who, when the heav'ns he fpread, Darknets his thick pavilion made,
And light his regal robe.
Praife him, ye lightnings, as ve fly
Wing'd with his vengeance thro' the sky,
And red with wrath divine;
Praise him, ye clouds that wand'ring stray,
Or, fix'd by him, in clofe array
Surround his awful fhrine.
Exalt, O earth! thy Heav'nly King,
Who bids the plants that form the fpring
With annual verdure bloom;
Whofe frequent drops of kindly rain
Prolific fwell the rip'ning grain,
And blefs thy fertile womb.
Ye mountains, that ambitious rife,
And heave your fummits to the ikies,
Revere his awful nod;
Think how you once affrighted fled;
When Jordan fought his fountain-head,
And own'd the approaching God.
Ye trees, that fill the rural fcene;
Ye flow'rs, that o'er th' enamell'd green
In native beauty reign;
O praife the Ruler of the fkies,
Whofe hand the genial fap fupplies,
And clothes the fimiling plain.
Ye fecret fprings, ye gentle rills,
That murm'ring rife among the hills,
Or fill the humble vale;
Praise him, at whofe Almighty nod
The rugged rock diffolving flow'd,
And form'd a fpringing well.
Praise him, ye floods, and feas profound,
Whole waves the fpacious earth furround,
And roll from fhore to fhore;
Aw'd by his voice, ye feas, fubfide;
Ye floods, within your channels glide,
And tremble and adore.
Ye whales, that stir the boiling deep,
Or in its dark receffes fleep,
Remote from human eye,
Praife him by whom ye all are fed;
Praife him, without whofe heavenly aid
Ye languish, faint, and die.
Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name;
Begin, and with th' important theme
Your artlefs lays improve;
Wake with your fongs the rifing day,
Let mufic found on ev'ry fpray,
And fill the vocal grove.
Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam
Amid the folitary gloom,
Th' expected prey to feize;
Ye flaves of the laborious plough,
Your ftubborn necks fubmiffive bow,
And bend your wearied knees.
Ye fons of men, his praise display,
Who ftamp'd his image on your clay,
And gave it pow'r to move;
Ye that in Judah's confines dwell,
From age to age fucceffive tell
The wonders of his love.
Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong,
Till angels liften to the fong,
And bend attentive down;
Let wonder feize the heavenly train,
Pleas'd while they hear a mortal ftrain
So fweet, fo like their own.
And you your thankful voices join,
That oft at Salem's facred fhrine
Before his altars kneel;
Where thron'd in majesty he dwells,
And from the myftic cloud reveals
The dictates of his will.
Ye fpirits of the juft and good,
That, eager for the blefs'd abode,
To heavenly manfions foar;
Olet your fongs his praife difplay,
Till heaven itfelf fhall melt away,
And time fhall be no more!
Praife him, ye meek and humble train,
Ye faints, whom his decrees ordain
The boundless blifs to fhare;
O praife him, till ye take your way
To regions of eternal day,
And reign for ever there.
Let us, who now impatfive stand,
Aw'd by the tyrant's stern command,
Amid the fiery blaze;
While thus we triumph in the flame,
Rife, and our Maker's love proclaim,
In hymns of endless praife.
891. The Ignorance of Man. MERRICK.
BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd
With hunger, thirst, and pain;
That afks to have the wants reliev'd
It knows not to complain.
Aloud the fpeechlefs fuppliant cries,
And utters, as it can,
The woes that in its bofom rife,
And fpeak its nature-man.
That infant, whofe advancing hour
Life's various forrows try
(Sad proof of fin's tranfmiflive pow'r !),
That infant, Lord, am I.
A childhood yet my thoughts confefs,
Though long in years mature;
Unknowing whence I feel diftrefs,
And where, or what, its cure.
Author of good! to thee I turn:
Thy ever-wakeful eye
Alone can all my wants difcern;
Thy hand alone fupply.
O let thy fear within me dwell,
Thy love my footsteps guide;
That love fhall vainer loves expel;
That fear all fears befide.
And, oh! by error's force fubdued,
Since oft my ftubborn will
Prepoft'rous fhuns the latent good,
And grafps the fpecious ill;
Not to my wish, but to my want,
Do thou thy gifts apply:
Unafk'd, what good thou knoweft grant;
What ill, tho' ask'd deny.
Oh how fhall I, with heart prepar'd, Thofe terrors learn to meet?
How from the thoufand fnares to guard
My unexperienc'd feet?
As thus I mus'd, oppreffive fleep
Soft o'er my temples drew
Oblivion's veil.-The wat'ry deep,
An object ftrange and new,
Before me rofe: on the wide fhore
Obfervant as I ftood,
The gathering ftorms around me roar,
And heave the boiling flood.
Near and more near the billows rife;
Een now my steps they lave;
And death to my affrighted eyes
Approach'd in ev'ry wave.
What hope, or whither to retreat!
Each nerve at once unftrung,
Chill fear had fetter'd faft my feet,
And chain'd my speechless tongue.
I feel my heart within me die;
When fudden to mine ear
A voice, defcending from on high,
Reprov'd my erring fear :
Know, when he bade the deep appear, "Thus far," th' Almighty faid, "Thus far, nor farther, rage; and here "Let thy proud waves be ftay'd."
I heard; and, lo! at once controul'd,
The waves, in wild retreat,
Back on themfelves reluctant roll'd,
And murmuring left my feet.
Deeps to affembling deeps in vain
Once more the fignal gave:
The fhores the rushing weight fuftain,
And check th' ufurping wave.
Convinc'd, in Nature's volume wife,
The imag'd truth I read;
And fudden from my waking eyes
Th' inftructive vifion fled.
Tho' griefs unnumber'd throng thee round,
Still in thy God confide,
Whofe finger marks the feas their bound,
And curbs the headlong tide.'
$93. Chriff's Paffion: from a Greek Ode of Mr. MASTERS, formerly of New College. PITT. No
O more of earthly fubjects fing;
To heaven, my mufe, afpire;
To raife the fong, charge ev'ry string,
And ftrike the living lyre.
Begin, in lofty numbers show
Th' Eternal King's unfathom'd love,
Who reigns the Sov'reign God above,
And fuffers on the crois below.
Prodigious pile of wonders! rais'd too high
For the dim ken of frail mortality.
What numbers fhall I bring along?
From whence fhall I begin the fong?
The mighty mystery I'll fing, infpir'd,
Beyond the reach of human wisdom wrought,
Beyond the compafs of an angel's thought,
How by the rage of man his God expir'd.
I'll make the tracklefs depths of mercy known,
How to redeem his foe God render'd up his Son:
I'll raife my voice to tell mankind
The victor's conqueft o'er his doom;
How in the grave he lay confin'd,
To feal more fure the rav'nous tomb.
Three days, th' infernal empire to fubdue,
He pais'd triumphant through the coafts of woe;
With his own dart the tyrant Death he flew,
And led Hell captive through her realms below.
A mingled found from Calvary I hear,
And the loud tumult thickens on my ear,
The fhouts of murd'rers that infult the flain,
The voice of torment, and the fhrieks of pain.
I caft my eyes with horror up
To the curit mountain's guilty top;
See there! whom hanging in the midft I view !
Ah! how unlike the other two!
I fee him high above his foes,
And gently bending from the wood
His head in pity down to thofe
Whofe guilt confpires to fhed his blood.
His wide-extended arms I fee
Transfix'd with nails, and faften'd to the tree.
Man, fenfelefs man! cauft thou look on,
Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own?
The rage of all thy grief exert,
Rend thy garments and thy heart :
Beat thy breaft, and grovel low,
Beneath the burden of thy woe;
Bleed through thy bowels, tear thy hairs,
Breathe gales of fighis, and weep a flood of tears,
Behold thy King, with purple cover'd round,
Not in the Tyrian tinctures dyed,
Nor dipt in poifon of Sidonian pride;
But in his own rich blood that ftreams from every
Doft thou not fee the thorny circle red? The guilty wreath that bluthes round his head > And with what rage the bloody fcourge applied Curls round his limbs, and ploughs into his fide! At fuch a fight let all thy anguilh rife; Break break the fountains of thy eyes. Here bid thy tears in gufhing torrents flow, Indulge thy grief, and give a loofe to woe.
Weep from thy foul, till earth be drown'd; Weep, till thy forrows drench the ground. Canft thou, ungrateful man! his torments fee, Nor drop a tear for him, who pours his blood for thee?
$95. Veni Creator Spiritus, parap brafed. DRYDEN
REATOR Spirit, by whofe aid
The world's foundations firft were laid,
Come vifit ev'ry picus mind ;
Come pour thy joys on human kind;
From fin and forrow fet us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.
O fource of uncreated light,
The Father's promis'd Paraclete !
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
Come, and thy facred unction bring
To fanctify us, while we fing.
Plenteous of grace, defcend from high,
Rich in thy fevenfold energy!
Thou ftrength of his Almighty hand,
Whole pow'r does heaven and earth command.
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
Who doft the gift of tongues difpenfe,
And crown'ft thy gift with eloquence!
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice controul,
Submit the fenfes to the foul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
Chafe from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, left our feet fhould ftep aftray,
Protect and guide us in the way.
Make us eternal truths receive,
And practife all that we believe:
Give us thyfelf, that we may fee
The Father, and the Son, by thee.
Immortal honour, endiefs fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name :
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for loft man's redemption died;
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee!
Left lurking Folly, with infidious art,
Regain my volatile inconftant heart!
Shall every high refolve Devotion frames
Be only lifelefs founds and fpecious names?
Oh rather, while thy hopes and fears controul,
In this ftill hour, each motion of my foul,
Secure its fafety by a fudden doom,
And be the foft retreat of fleep my tomb!
Calm let me flumber in that dark repose,
Till the laft morn its orient beam difclofe:
Then, when the great archangel's potent
§ 96. On True Nobility. DRYDEN'S JUVENAL. Shall echo thro' creation's ample round,
NOBILITY of blood
Is but a glitt'ring and fallacious good. The Nobleman is he, whofe noble mind [kind. Is fill'd with inbred worth, unborrow'd from his Virtue alone is true nobility:
your own acts immortalize your nanie, 'Tis poor relying on another's fame: For take the pillars but away, and all The fuperftructure muft in ruins fall; As a vine droops, when by divorce remov'd From the embraces of the clm the lov'd.
$97. A Night Piece. Mifs CARTER.
WHILE night in folemn fhade invefts the pole,
And calm reflection fooths the penfive foul,
While reafon undisturb'd afferts her fway,
And life's deceitful colours fade away;
To thee! all-confcious Prefence! I devote
This peaceful interval of fober thought:
Here all my better faculties confine;
And be this hour of facred filence thine!
If, by the day's illufive fcenes misled,
My erring foul from virtue's path has ftray'd;
Snar'd by example, or by paffion warm'd,
Some falle delight my giddy fenfe has charm'd
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,
And my best hopes are centre'd in thy love.
Depriv'd of this, can life one joy afford?
Its utmost boast a vain unmeaning word.
But, ah! how oft my lawless paffions rove,
And break thofe awful precepts I approve!
Purfue the fatal impulfe I abhor,
And violate the virtue I adore!
Oft, when thy better Spirit's guardian care
Warn'd my fond foul to fhun the tempting fnare,
My ftubborn will his gentle aid reprefs'd,
And check'd the rifing goodnels in my breaft;
Mad with vain hopes, or urg'd by falfe defires,
Still'd his foft voice, and quench'd his facred fires.
With grief opprefs'd, and proftrate in the duft,
Shouldst thou condemn, I own thy fentence juft.
But, oh thy fofter titles let me claim,
And plead my caufe by Mercy's gentle name.
Mercy that wipes the penitential tear,
And diffipates the horrors of despair;
From righteous juftice fleals the vengeful hour,
Softens the dreadful attribute of pow'r,
Difarms the wrath of an offended God,
And feals my pardon in a Saviour's blood!
All-powerful Grace, exert thy gentle sway,
And teach my rebel paffions to obey;
Wak'd from the fleep of death, with joy furvey
The opening fplendours of eternal day.
Thro' von dark grove of mournful yews
With folitary fteps I mufe,
By thy direction led:
Here, cold to pleafure's tempting forms,
Confociate with my fifter worins,
And mingle with the dead.
Ye midnight horrors, awful gloom!
Ye filent regions of the tomb,
Here fhall my weary eyes be clos'd,
My future peaceful bed;
And ev'ry forrow lie repos'd
In death's refrething thade.
Ye pale inhabitants of night,
Before my intellectual fight
In folemn pomp afcend:
O tell how trifling now appears
The train of idle hopes and fears,
That varying life attend!
Ye faithlefs idols of our fenfe,
Here own how vain the fond pretence,
Ye empty names of joy!
Your tranfient forms like fhadows pass,
Frail offspring of the magic glass,
Before the mental eye.
The dazzling colours, falfely bright,
Attract the gazing vulgar fight
With fuperficial ftate:
Thro' reafon's clearer optics view'd,
How ftripp'd of all its pomp, how rude,
Appears the painted cheat!
Can wild ambition's tyrant pow'r,
Or ill-got wealth's fuperfluous ftore,
The dread of death controul?
Can pleafure's more bewitching charms
Avert or footh the dire alarms
That shake the parting foul?
Religion ere the hand of Fate
Shall make reflection plead too late,
My erring fenfes teach,
Amidit the flatt'ring hopes of youth,
To meditate the folemn truth
Thefe awful relics preach.
Thy penetrating beams difperfe
The mist of error, whence our fears
Derive their fatal fpring:
'Tis thine the trembling heart to warm,
And foften to an angel form
The pale terrific king.
When, funk by guilt in fad defpair,
Repentance breathes her humble pray'r,
And owns thy threat'nings juft;
Thy voice the fhudd'ring fuppliant cheers,
With mercy calms her torturing fears,
And lifts her from the dust.
Sublim'd by thee, the foul afpires
Beyond the range of low defires,
In nobler views elate:
Unmov'd her deftin'd change furveys,
And, arm'd by faith, intrepid pays
The univerfal debt.
In death's foft lumber lull'd to rest,
She fleeps, by fmiling vifions bleft,
That gently whisper peace;
Till the lait morn's fair op'ning ray
Unfolds the bright eternal day
Of active life and blifs.
§ 99. Written at Midnight, in a Thunder
ET coward Guilt, with pallid Fear, To thelt'ring caverns fly, And justly dread the vengeful fate
That thunders through the sky. Protected by that hand, whofe law The threat'ning ftorms obey, Intrepid Virtue fmiles fecure,
As in the blaze of day.
In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom,
The lightning's lurid glare,
It views the fame all-gracious Pow'r
That breathes the vernal air.
Thro' Nature's ever-varying fcene,
By different ways pursued,
The one eternal end of Heaven
Is univerfal good:
With like beneficent effe&t
O'er flaming æther glows,
As when it tunes the linnet's voice,
Or blushes in the rofe.
By reafon taught to fcorn thofe fears
That vulgar minds moleft,
Let no fantastic terrors break
My dear Narciffa's reft.
Thy life may all the tend'reft care
Of Providence defend;
And delegated angels round
Their guardian wings extend!
When thro' creation's vaft expanfe
The laft dread thunders roll,
Untune the concord of the spheres,
And thake the rifing foul;
Unmov'd may it thou the final storm
Of jarring worlds furvey,
That ushers in the glad ferene
Of everlafting day!
§ 100. The Vanity of Human Wishes.
JOHNSON, In Imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal. LET* obfervation with extenfive view
Survey mankind, from China to Peru; Remark each anxious toil, each eager ftrife, And watch the bufy fcenes of crowded life; Then fay how hope and fear, defire and hate, O'erfpread with fnares the clouded maze of fate, Where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride, To tread the dreary paths without a guide; As treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude, Shuns fancied ills, or chafes airy good: How rarely reafon guides the stubborn choice, Rules the bold hand, or prompts the fuppliant
How nations fink by darling fchemes oppreft,
When vengeance liftens to the fool's request.
Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflićtive dart,
Each gift of nature, and each grace of art;
With fatal heat impetuous courage glows,
With fatal fweetneis elocution flows;
Impeachment ftops the speaker's pow`rful breath,
And restless fire precipitates on death.
+ But, fearce obferv'd, the knowing and the bold
Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold;
Wide-wafting peft! that rages unconfin'd,
And crowds with crimes the records of mankind!
For gold his fword the hireling ruffian draws,
For gold the hireling judge diftorts the laws;
Wealth heap'd on wealth nor truth nor fafety
The dangers gather as the treasures rife. [buys;
Let hift'ry tell, where rival kings command, And dubious title fhakes the madden'd land, When ftatutes glean the refufe of the fword, How much more fafe the vaffal than the lord: Low foulks the hind beneath the rage of pow'r, And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tow'r, Untouch'd his cottage, and his flumbers found, Tho' confifcation's vultures hover round.
The needy traveller, ferene and gay, Walks the wild heath, and fings his toil away. Does envy feize thee: crufh th' upbraiding joy, Increase his riches, and his peace deftroy. New fears in dire vicillitude invade, The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring fhade; Nor light nor darkness brings his pain relief, One fhews the plunder, and one hides the thief.