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"Without a vain, without a grudging heart, To him who gives us all, I yield a part; From him you come, for him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than costly cheer." He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread, Then talk of virtue till the time of bed, When the grave houshold round his hall repair, Warm'd by a bell, and close the hours with prayer.

At length the world, renew'd by calm repose,
Was strong for toil, the dappled Morn arose;
Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept,
Near the clos'd eradle where an infant slept,
And writh'd his neck: the landlord's little pride,
O strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and
dy'd.

Horrour of horrours! what! his only son!
How look'd our hermit when the fact was done;
Not Hell, though Hell's black jaws in sunder
part,

And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart.
Confus'd, and struck with silence at the deed,
He flies, but, trembling, fails to fly with speed.
His steps the youth pursues; the country lay
Perplex'd with roads, a servant show'd the way:
A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er
Was nice to find; the servant trod before;
Long arms of oaks an open bridge supply'd,
And deep the waves beneath the bending glide.
The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin,
Approached the careless guide, and thrust him in;
Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head,
Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.
Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes,
He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries,
"Detested wretch!"-But scarce his speech be-
gan,

When the strange partner seem'd no longer man:
His youthful face grew more serenely sweet;
His robe tarn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet;
Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair;
Celestial odours breathe through purpled air;
And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day,
Wide at his back their gradual plumes display.
The form etherial burst upon his sight,
And moves in all the majesty of light.

Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew, Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do; Surprise in secret chains his words suspends, And in a calm his settling temper ends. But silence here the beauteous angel broke (The voice of music revish'd as he spoke). "Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unIn sweet memorial rise before the throne: [known, These charms, success in our bright region find, And force an angel down, to calm thy mind; For this, commission'd, I forsook the sky, Nay, cease to kneel-thy fellow-servant I. "Then know the truth of government divine, And let these scruples be no longer thine. "The Maker justly claims that world he made, In this the right of Providence is laid; Its sacred majesty through all depends On using second means to work his ends: 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, The power exerts his attributes on high, Your actions uses, nor controls your will, And bids the doubting sons of men be still. "What strange events can strike with more surprise,

Yet, taught by these, confess th' Almighty just,
And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!
"The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food,
Whose life was too luxurious to be good;
Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine,
And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine,
Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost,
And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.

"The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted
Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor; [door
With him I left the cup, to teach his mind
That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind.
Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl,
And feels compassion touch his grateful soul.
Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead,
With heaping coals of fire upon its head;
In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow,
And loose from dross the silver runs below.

"Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God;

(Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain,
And measur'd back his steps to Earth again.
To what excesses had his dotage run?
But God, to save the father, took the son.
To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go,
(And 't was my ministry to deal the blow)
The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust,
Now owns in tears the punishment was just.

"But now had all his fortune felt a wrack,
Had that false servant sped in safety back;
This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal,
And what a fund of charity would fail !
Thus Heaven instructs thy mind: this trial o'er,
Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more."

On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew, The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew. Thus look'd Elisha when, to mount on high, His master took the chariot of the sky; The fiery pomp ascending left to view; The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too. The bending hermit here a prayer begun, "Lord! as in Heaven, on Earth thy will be done:”, Then gladly turning sought his ancient place, And pass'd a life of piety and peace.

PIETY, OR THE VISION'.

"Twas when the night in silent sable fled,
When cheerful morning sprung with rising red,
When dreams and vapours leave to crowd the brain,
And best the vision draws its heavenly scene;
'Twas then, as slumbering on my couch I lay,
A sudden splendour seem'd to kindle day,
A breeze came breathing in a sweet perfume,
Blown from eternal gardens, fill'd the room;
And in a void of blue, that clouds invest,
Appear'd a daughter of the realms of rest;

This and the following poem are not in the octavo editions of Dr. Parnell's poems published by Mr. Pope. They were first communicated to the public by the late ingenious Mr. James Arbuckle, and published in his Hibernicus's Letters, No. 62, GOLDSMITH.-They are now in some de gree corrected, from the volume of Posthumous

Than those which lately struck thy wondering eyes? Poems. N.

Her head a ring of golden glory wore,
Her honour'd hand the sacred volume bore,
Her raiment glittering seem'd a silver white,
And all her sweet companions sons of light.

Straight as I gaz'd, my fear and wonder grew,
Fear barr'd my voice, and wonder fix'd my view;
When lo! a cherub of the shining crowd
That sail'd as guardian in her azure cloud,
Fann'd the soft air, and downwards seem'd to glide,
And to my lips a living coal apply'd.
Then while the warmth o'er all my pulses ran
Diffusing comfort, thus the maid began:

"Where glorious mansions are prepar'd above,
The seats of music, and the seats of love,
Thence I descend, and Piety my name,
To warm thy bosom with celestial flame,
To teach thee praises mix'd with humble prayers,
And tune thy soul to sing seraphic airs.
Be thou my bard." A vial here she caught,
(An angel's hand the crystal vial brought)
And as with awful sound the word was said,
She pour'd a sacred unction on my head;
Then thus proceeded: "Be thy Muse thy zeal,
Dare to be good, and all my joys reveal.
While other pencils flattering forms create,
And paint the gaudy plumes that deck the great;
While other pens exalt the vain delight,
Whose wasteful revel wakes the depth of night;
Or others softly sing in idle lines
How Damon courts, or Amaryllis shines;
More wisely thou select a theme divine,
Fame is their recompense, 'tis Heaven is thine.
Despise the raptures of discorded fire,
Where wine, or passion, or applause inspire
Low restless life, and ravings born of Earth,
Whose meaner subjects speak their humble birth,
Ijke working seas, that, when loud winters blow,
Not made for rising, only rage below.
Mine is a warm and yet a lambent heat,
More lasting still, as more intensely great,
Produc'd where prayer, and praise, and pleasure
breathe,

And ever mounting whence it shot beneath.
Unpaint the love, that, hovering over beds,
From glittering pinions guilty pleasure sheds;
Restore the colour to the golden mines
With which behind the feather'd idol shines;
To flowering greens give back their native care,
The rose and lily, never his to wear;
To sweet Arabia send the balmy breath;
Strip the fair flesh, and call the phantom Death:
His bow be sabled o'er, his shafts the same,
And fork and point them with eternal flame.
"But urge thy powers, thine utmost voice ad-

vance,

Make the loud strings against thy fingers dance,
'Tis love that angels praise and men adore,
'Tis love divine that asks it all and more.
Fling back the gates of ever-blazing day,
Pour foods of liquid light to gild the way;
And all in glory wrapt, through paths untrod,
Pursue the great unseen descent of God.
Hail the meek virgin, bid the child appear,
The child is God, and call him Jesus here.
He comes, but where to rest? A manger's nigh,
Make the great Being in a manger lie;
Fill the wide sky with angels on the wing,
Make thousands gaze, and make ten thousand sing;
Let men afflict him, men he came to save,
And still afflict him till he reach the grave;

Make him resign'd, his loads of sorrow meet,
And me, like Mary, weep beneath his feet;
I'll bathe my tresses there, my prayers rehearse,
And glide in flames of love along my verse.

"Ah! while I speak, I feel my bosom swell, My raptures smother what I long to tell. 'Tis God! a present God! through cleaving air I see the throne, and see the Jesus there Plac'd on the right. He shows the wounds he bore (My fervours oft have won him thus before); How pleas'd he looks! my words have reach'd his ear;

He bids the gates unbar; and calls me near."

She ceas'd. The cloud on which she seem'd to

tread

Its curls unfolded, and around her spread;
Bright angels waft their wings to raise the cloud,
And sweep their ivory lutes, and sing aloud;
The scene moves off, while all its ambient sky
Is turn'd to wondrous music as they fly;
And soft the swelling sounds of music grow,
And faint their softness, till they fail below.

My downy step the warmth of Phœbus broke,
And while my thoughts were settling, thus I spoke.
"Thou beauteous vision! on the soul impress'd,
When most my reason would appear to rest,
'Twas sure with pencils dipt in various lights
Some curious angel limn'd thy sacred sights;
From blazing suns his radiant gold he drew,
While moons the silver gave, and air the blue.
I'll mount the roving winds expanded wing,
And seek the sacred hill, and light to sing;
('Tis known in Jewry well) I'll make my lays,
Obedient to thy summons, sound with praise."

But still I fear, unwarm'd with holy flame, I take for truth the flatteries of a dream; And barely wish the wondrous gift I boast, And faintly practise what deserves it most.

Indulgent Lord! whose gracious love displays Joy in the light, and fills the dark with ease! Be this, to bless my days, no dream of bliss; Or be, to bless the nights, my dreams like this.

BACCHUS;

OR, THE DRUNKEN METAMORPHOSIS.

As Bacchus, ranging at his leisure,
(Jolly Bacchus, king of pleasure!)
Charm'd the wide world with drink and dances,
And all his thousand airy fancies,
Alas! he quite forgot the while
His favourite vines in Lesbos isle.

The god, returning ere they dy'd,
"Ah! see my jolly fauns," he cry'd,
The leaves but hardly born are red,
And the bare arms for pity spread:
The beasts afford a rich manure;
Fly, my boys, to bring the cure;
Up the mountains, o'er the vales,
Through the woods, and down the dales;
For this, if full the cluster grow,
Your bowls shall doubly overflow.”

So cheer'd with more officious haste
They bring the dung of every beast;
The loads they wheel, the roots they bare,
They lay the rich manure with care;

While oft he calls to labour hard,
And names as oft the red reward.

The plants refresh'd, new leaves appear,
The thickening clusters load the year;
The season swiftly purple grew,

The grapes hung dangling deep with blue.
A vineyard ripe, a day serene
Now calls them all to work again.
The fauns through every furrow shoot
To load their flaskets with the fruit;
And now the vintage early trod,
The wines invite the jovial god.

Strow the roses, raise the song,
See the master comes along;
Lusty revel join'd with laughter,
Whim and frolic follow after:
The fauns aside the vats remain,
To show the work, and reap the gain.
All around, and all around,
They sit to riot on the ground;
A vessel stands amidst the ring,

And here they laugh, and here they sing:
Or rise a jolly jolly band,
And dance about it hand in hand;
Dance about, and shout amain,
Then sit to laugh and sing again.
Thus they drink, and thus they play
The sun and all their wits away.

But, as an ancient author sung,
The vine manur'd with every dung,
From every creature strangely drew
A twang of brutal nature too;
'Twas hence in drinking on the lawns
New turns of humour seiz'd the fauns.

Here one was crying out, " By Jove!"
Another, "Fight me in the grove;"
This wounds a friend, and that the trees;
The lion's temper reign'd in these.

Another grins, and leaps about,
And keeps a merry world of rout,
And talks impertinently free,
And twenty talk the same as he:
Chattering, idle, airy, kind:

These take the monkeys turn of mind.

Here one, that saw the nymphs which stood
To peep upon them from the wood,
Skulks off to try if any maid
Be lagging late beneath the shade;
While loose discourse another raises
In naked Nature's plainest phrases,
And every glass he drinks enjoys,

With change of nonsense, lust, and noise;
Mad and careless, hot and vain:
Such as these the goat retain.

Another drinks and casts it up,

And drinks, and wants another cup;
Solemn, silent, and sedate,

Ever long, and ever late,

Full of meats, and full of wine:

This takes his temper from the swine.

Here some who hardly seem to breathe,
Drink, and hang the jaw beneath.
Gaping, tender, apt to weep:
Their nature's alter'd by the sheep.
'Twas thus one autumn all the crew
(If what the poets say be true)
While Bacchus made the merry feast,
Inclin'd to one or other beast:
And since, 'tis said, for many a mile
He spread the vines of Lesbos isle.

VOL. IX.

THE HORSE AND THE OLIVE. WITH moral tale let ancient Wisdom move, Whilst thus I sing to make the moderns wise: Strong Neptune once with sage Minerva strove, And rising Athens was the victor's prize. By Neptune, Plutus (guardian power of gain), By great Minerva, bright Apollo stood: But Jove superior bade the side obtain, Which best contriv'd to do the nation good. Then Neptune striking, from the parted ground The warlike Horse came pawing on the plain, And as it tost its mane, and pranc'd around, "By this," he cries, "I'll make the people reign." The goddess, smiling, gently bow'd her spear, And "Rather thus they shall be bless'd," she said; Then upwards shooting in the vernal air,

With loaded boughs the fruitful Olive spread. Jove saw what gift the rural powers design'd; And took th' impartial scales, resolv'd to show, If greater bliss in warlike pomp we find,

Or in the calm which peaceful times bestow. On Neptune's part he plac'd victorious days, Gay trophies won, and fame extending wide; But plenty, safety, science, arts, and ease,

Minerva's scale with greater weight supply'd.
Fierce War devours whom gentle Peace would save:
Sweet Peace restores what angry War destroys;
War made for Peace, with that rewards the brave,
While Peace its pleasures from itself enjoys.
Hence vanquish'd Neptune to the sea withdrew,
Hence wise Minerva rul'd Athenian lands;
Her Athens hence in arts and honours grew,
And still her olives deck pacific hands.

From fables, thus disclos'd, a monarch's mind
May form just rules to choose the truly great,
And subjects weary'd with distresses find,
Whose kind endeavours most befriend the state.
Ev'n Britain here may learn to place her love,
If cities won, her kingdom's wealth have cost;
If Anna's thoughts the patriot souls approve,
Whose cares restore that wealth the wars had lost.

But if we ask, the moral to disclose,

Whom her best patroness Europa calls,
Great Anna's title no exception knows,
And unapply'd in this the fable falls.

With her nor Neptune or Minerva vies:
Whene'er she pleas'd, her troops to conquest flew;
Whene'er she pleases, peaceful times arise:
She gave the Horse, and gives the Olive too.

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I not Religion (Heaven-descended dame)
As worthy all our soul's devoutest flame,
As moral Virtue in her early sway,
When the best Heathens saw by doubtful day?
Are not the joys, the promis'd joys above,
As great and strong to vanquish earthly love,
As earthly glory, fame, respect, and show,
As all rewards their virtue found below?
Alas! Religion proper means prepares,
These means are ours, and must its end be theirs?
And shall thy father's spirit meet the sight
Of heathen sages cloth'd in heavenly light,
Whose merit of strict life, severely suited
To Reason's dictates, may be faith imputed,
Whilst thou, to whom he taught the nearer road,
Art ever banish'd from the blest abode?

Oh! if thy temper such a fear can find,
This fear were valour of the noblest kind.

Dar'st thou provoke, when rebel souls aspire, Thy Maker's vengeance, and thy monarch's ire. Or live entomb'd in ships, thy leader's prey, Spoil of the war, the famine, or the sea; In search of pea:1, in depth of ocean breathe, Or live, exil'd the Sun, in mines beneath, Or, where in tempests icy mountains roll, Attempt a passage by the northern pole? Or dar'st thou parch within the fires of Spain, Or burn beneath the line, for Indian gain? Or for some idol of thy fancy draw [straw! Some loose-gown'd dame; O courage made of Thus, desperate coward, would'st thou bold appear, Yet when thy God has plac'd thee centry here, To thy own foes, to his, ignoble yield; And leave, for wars forbid, th' appointed field?

Know thy own foes; th' apostate angel; he You strive to please, the foremost of the three; He makes the pleasures of his realm the bait, But can he give for love that acts in hate? The world's thy second love, thy second foe, The world, whose beauties perish as they blow, They fly, she fades herself, and at the best, You grasp a wither'd strumpet to your breast; The flesh is next, which in fruition wastes, High flush'd with all the sensual joys it tastes. While men the fair, the goodly soul destroy, From whence the flesh has power to taste a joy, Seek thou Religion primitively soundWell, gentle friend, but where may she be found? By faith implicit blind Ignaro led, Thinks the bright seraph from his country fled, And seeks her seat at Rome, because we know, She there was seen a thousand years ago; And loves her relic rags, as men obey The foot-cloth where the prince sat yesterday. These pageant forms are whining Obed's scorn, Who seeks Religion at Geneva born,

A sullen thing, whose coarseness suits the crowd: Though young, unhandsome; though unhandsome, proud;

Thus, with the wanton, some perversely judge
All girls unhealthy but the country drudge.

No foreign schemes make easy Cæpio roam, The man contented takes his church at home, Nay, should some preachers, servile bawds of gain, Should some new laws, which like new fashions reign,

Command his faith to count salvation ty❜d,
To visit his, and visit none beside;
He grants salvation centres in his own,
And grants it centres but in his alone;

From youth to age he grasps the proffer'd dam,
And they confer his faith, who give his name;
So from the guardian's hands the wards, who live
Enthrall'd to guardians, take the wives they give.

From all professions careless Airy flies,
"For all professions can't be good," he cries;
And here a fault, and there another views,
And lives unfix'd for want of heart to choose;
So men, who know what some loose girls have
For fear of marrying such, will marry none. [done,
The charms of all obsequious Courtly strike;
On each he dotes, on each attends alike;
And thinks, as different countries deck the dame,
The dresses altering, and the sex the same:
So fares Religion, chang'd in outward show,
But 'tis Religion still where'er we go:
This blindness springs from an excess of light,
And men embrace the wrong to choose the right
But thou of force must one Religion own,
And only one, and that the right alone;
To find that right one, ask thy reverend sire,
Let his of him, and him of his inquire; flyd,
Though Truth and Falsehood seem as twins al-
There's eldership on Truth's delightful side;
Her seek with heed-who seeks the soundest first,
Is not of no Religion, nor the worst.
T'adore, or scorn an image, or protest,
May all be bad; doubt wisely for the best,
'T were wrong to sleep, or headlong run astray;
It is not wandering, to inquire the way.

On a large mountain, at the basis wide, Steep.to the top, and craggy at the side, Sits sacred Truth enthron'd; and he who means To reach the summit, mounts with weary pains, Winds round and round, and every turn essays, Where sudden breaks resist the shorter ways. Yet labour so, that ere faint age arrive, Thy searching soul possess her rest alive: To work by twilight were to work too late, And age is twilight to the night of fate. To will alone, is but to mean delay, To work at present is the use of day. For man's employ much thought and deed remain, High thoughts the soul, hard deeds the body strain, And mysteries ask believing, which to view, Like the fair Sun, are plain, but dazzling too.

Be Truth, so found, with sacred heed possest, Not kings have power to tear it from thy breast. By no blank charters harm they where they hate, Nor are they vicars, but the hands of fate. Ah! fool and wretch, who lett'st thy soul be ty'd To human laws! or must it so be try'd? Or will it boot thee, at the latest day, When Judgment sits, and Justice asks thy plea, That Philip that, or Gregory taught thee this, Or John or Martin? All may teach amiss: For every contrary in each extreme This holds alike, and each may plead the same.

Wouldst thou to power a proper duty show?
'Tis thy first task the bounds of power to know;
The bounds once pass'd, it holds the same no more,
Its nature alters, which it own'd before,
Nor were submissión humbleness exprest,
But all a low idolatry at best.

Power from above, subordinately spread,
Streams like a fountain from th' eternal head;
There, calm and pure, the living waters flow,
But roars a torrent or a flood below,
Each flower ordain'd the margins to adorn,
Each native beauty, from its roots is tery,

And left on deserts, rocks and sands, are tost,
All the long travel, and in ocean lost.

So fares the soul, which more that power reveres,
Man claims from God, than what in God inheres.

THE GIFT OF POETRY.

FROM realms of never-interrupted peace,
From thy fair station near the throne of Grace,
From choirs of angels, joys in endless round,
And endless harmony's enchanting sound,
Charm'd with a zeal the Maker's praise to show,
Bright Gift of Verse descend, and here below
My ravish'd heart with rais'd affection fill,
And warbling o'er the soul incline my will.
Among thy pomp, let rich expression wait,
Let ranging numbers form thy train complete,
While at thy motions over all the sky
Sweet sounds, and echoes sweet, resounding fly;
And where thy feet with gliding beauty tread,
Let Fancy's flowery spring erect its head.

It comes, it comes, with unaccustomed light,
The tracts of airy thought grow wondrous bright,
Its notions ancient Memory reviews,
And young Invention new designs pursues.
To some attempt my will and wishes press,
And pleasure, rais'd in hope, forebodes success.
My God, from whom proceed the gifts divine,
My God! I think I feel the gift is thine.
Be this no vain illusion which I find,
Nor Nature's impulse on the passive mind,
But reason's act, produc'd by good desire,
By grace enlivened with celestial fire;
While base conceits, like misty sons of night,
Before such beams of glory take their flight,
And frail affections, born of earth, decay,
Like weeds that wither in the warmer ray.
I thank thee, Father! with a grateful mind:
Man's undeserving, and thy mercy kind.
I now perceive, I long to sing thy praise,
I now perceive, I long to find my lays
The sweet incentives of another's love,
And sure such longings have their rise above.
My resolution stands confirm'd within,
My lines aspiring eagerly begin;
Begin, my lines, to such a subject due,
That aids our labours, and rewards them too!
Begin, while Canaan opens to mine eyes,
Where souls and songs, divinely form'd, arise.

As one whom o'er the sweetly-vary'd meads
Intire recess and lonely pleasure leads,

To verdur'd banks, to paths adorn'd with flowers,
To shady trees, to closely-waving bowers,
To bubbling fountains, and aside the stream
That softly gliding soothes a waking dream,
Or bears the thought inspir'd with heat along,
And with fair images improves a song;
Through sacred anthems, so may fancy range,
So still from beauty, still to beauty change,
To feel delights in all the radiant way,
And, with sweet numbers, what it feels repay.
For this I call that ancient Time appear,
And bring his rolls to serve in method here;
His rolls which acts, that endless honour claim,
Have rank'd in order for the voice of Fame.
My call is favour'd: Time from first to last
Unwinds his years, the present sees the past;
view their circles as he turns them o'er,
And fix my footsteps where he went before.

The page unfolding would a top disclose, Where sounds melodious in their birth arose. Where first the Morning-stars together sung, Where first their harps the sons of Glory strung, With shouts of joy while Hallelujahs rise To prove the chorus of eternal skies. Rich sparkling strokes the letters doubly gild, And all's with love and admiration fill'd.

MOSES.

To grace those lines, which next appear to sight, The pencil shone, with more abated light; Yet still the pencil shone, the lines were fair, And awful Moses stands recorded there; Let his, replete with flames and praise divine, Let his, the first-remember'd song be mine, Then rise my thought, and in thy prophet find What joy should warm thee, for the work design'd. To that great act, which rais'd his heart, repair, And find a portion of his spirit there.

A nation helpless and unarm'd I view,
Whom strong revengeful troops of war pursue,
Seas stop their flight, their camp must prove their
grave,

Ah! what can save them? God alone can save.
God's wondrous voice proclaims his high command,
He bids their leader wave the sacred wand,
And where the billows flow'd, they flow no more,
A road lies naked, and they march it o'er.
Safe may the sons of Jacob travel through,
But why will hard'ned Egypt venture too?
Vain in thy rage, to think those waters flee
And rise like walls, on either hand, for thee.
The night comes on, the season for surprise,
Yet fear not, Israel, God directs thine eyes.
A fiery cloud I see thine angel ride,
His chariot is thy light, and he thy guide.
The day comes on, and half thy succours fail,
Yet fear not, Israel, God will still prevail.
I see thine angel from before thee go,
To make the wheels of venturous Egypt slow,
His rolling cloud enwraps its beams of light,
And what supply'd thy day, prolongs their night.
At length the dangers of the deep are run,
The further brink is past, the bank is won;
The leader turns to view the foes behind,
Then waves his solemn wand within the wind,
Oh nation freed by wonders, cease thy fear,
And stand, and see the Lord's Salvation here.
Ye tempests, now, from every corner fly,
And wildly rage in all my fancied sky,
Roll on, ye waters, as they roll'd before,
Ye billows of my fancied ocean, roar;
Dash high, ride foaming, mingle, all the main
'Tis done, and Pharaoh can't afflict again.
The work, the wondrous work of freedom's done,
The winds abate, the clouds restore the Sun,
The wreck appears, the threatening army drown'd
Floats o'er the waves, to strew the sandy ground,
Then place thy Moses near the calming flood,
Majestically mild, serenely good;
Let meekness, lovely virtue, gently stream
Around his visage, like a lambent flame;
Let grateful sentiments, let sense of love,
Let holy zeal, within his bosom move;
And while his people gaze the watery plain,
And fear's last touches like to doubts remain;
While bright astonishment, that seems to raise
A questioning belief, is fond to praise;
Be thus the rapture in the prophet's breast,
Be thus the thanks for freedom gain'd express'd;

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