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Tell, when aftrighted Nature shook,
And trembled at his frown.
In mutual concourse rise ;
In incense to the skies.
Harmonious anthems raise.
And tun'd your voice to praise.
In heavenly praise en ploy ;
The gen’ral burst of joy,
Fall prostrate at his throne :
An idare of his own.
The Universal Prayers
In tev'ry clime ador'd,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Vho all my sense confin'd
d that myself am blind;
Yet gave me in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
Left free the human will ;
Or warns me not to do,
That more than hearen pursue. What blessings thy free bounty gives;
Let me not cast away ;
T enjoy is to obey,
Thy goodness let me bound,
When thousands worlds are round. Let not this weak anknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw i And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge thy foe.
Still in the right to stay ;
To find that better way !
Or impious discontent,
other's show, tercy show to me. hough I am, not wholly so,
quicken'd by thy breath ;
All else beneath the sun
To thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar, earth, sea, shies ! One chorus lei all beings prise !
All Nature's incense rise.
Conscience. * OXTREACH'ROUS conscience ! while she seems to sleep
Onrose and myrtle, lnll’d with syren song;
Whole history ; which death shall read lne
kinguent's private ear ;
On an Infanta
born to weep and die. viniant, early bless'd! in peaceful slumber rtst;
Early rescu'd from the cares,
HAIL, beauteous stranger of the wood,
Attendant on the spring!
And woods thy we come sing.
Thy certain voice we hear :
Or mark the rolling year?
I hail the time of flow'rs,
Of birds among the bow'rs,
To pull the flow’rs so gay,
And imitates thy lay.
Thou fly'st thy vocal vale,
Another spring to hail.
Thy sky is ever clear ;
No winter in thy year.
We'd make, with social wing,
Companions of the spring.
Day. A pastoral in three parls.
In the barn the tenant cock,
Close to Parilet perch'd on high, Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clack !)
Jocund ibat the morning's nigh. Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows nurs'd by night retire ; And the peeping sun-beam now,
Paints with gold the village spire. Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plaintive where she prates at night ; And the lark to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the shepherd's sight. From the low roof'd cottage ridge,
See the chatt'ring swallon spring : Dariing through the one arch'd bridge,
Quick she dips her dappled wing. Now i he pine-tree's waving top
Gently greets the morning gale ;
Daisies, on the dewy dale,
(Restless' till her task be done,) Now the busy bee's employ'd,
Sipping dew desore ihe sun, Trickiing through the crevic'd rock,
Wire-the limpid stream distils, Sweet refreshment waits the flock,
When 'tis sun-drove from the hills, Colin's for the promis'd corn,
(Cre the harvest lopes are ripe) Anxious ; while the huntsman's horn,
Bollly sounding, drowns his pipe. Sweet, sweet, the warbling throng,
On the white emblossom'd spray ! Nature's universal song
Echoes to the rising day.