THE ENGLISH READER

242

The English Reader.

And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling, eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow whisp'ring gales,
Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In winter awful thou! with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd,
Majestic darkness! On the whirlwind's wing,
Riding sublime, Thou bidst the world adore ;
And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
Mysterious round! what skill, what force diviney
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,
Yet so delightful mix'd with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd;
Shade unperceiv'd so soft'ning into shade
And ali so forming an harmonious whole,
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still,
But wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That' ever busy, wheels the silent spheres;
Works in the secret deep; shoots streaming, thence
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring;
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day;
Feeds ev'ry creature, hurls the tempest forth;
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.
Nature attend! join ev'ry living soul,
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join! and ardent, raise
One gen'ral song!-

Ye, chief, for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn!

For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows; the summer ray
Russets the plain; inspiring autumn gleams;
winter rises in the black'ning east,
my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more,
And dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!

Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barb'rons climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames o'er the Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me
Since God is ever present, ever felt.

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hap. 6.

the void waste as in the city full;
nd where HE vital breathes there must be joy.
When ev'n at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
cheerful will obey; there, with new pow'rs,
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go
Where UNIVERSAL LOVE not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
From seeming evil still educing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression. But I lose
Mysell in HIM, in light ineffable !