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Go fearch among thy forms, and thence prepare
A cloud in folds of foft furrounding air!
Go find a breeze to lift thy cloud on high,
To waft thee gently-rock'd in open sky,
Then stealing back to leave a filent calm,
And thee repofing in a grove of palm,
The place will fuit my next fucceeding strain,
And I'll awake thee foon to fing again.

DEBORAH.

TIME, fire of years, unfold thy leaf anew, And still the past recall to prefent view, Spread forth thy circles, fwiftly gaze them o'er, But where an action 's nobly fung before, There ftop and flay for me, whofe thoughts defign To make another 's fong refound in mine. Pass where the priest's proceffion bore the law, When Jordan's parted waters fix'd with awe, While Ifrael march'd upon the naked fand, Admir'd the wonder, and obtain'd the land; Slide through the numerous fates of Canaan's kings, While conquests rode on Expedition's wings,

Glance over Ifrael at a single view,

In bondage oft and oft unbound anew,
Till Jabin rife, and Deborah ftand enroll'd,
Upon the gilded leaf's revolving fold.

Oh, king fubdued! Oh, woman born to fame !
Oh, wake my fancy, for the glorious theme ;

Oh, wake my fancy with the fense of praise,
Oh, wake with warblings of triumphant lays.
The land you rife-in fultry funs invade ;

But, when you rife to fing, you'll find a shade..
Thofe trees in order, and with verdure crown'd,
The facred prophetess's tent furround,
And that fair palm a front exactly plac'd,
That overtops and overspreads the reft,
Near the firm root a moffy bank fupports,
Where Juftice opens unexpenfive courts:
There Deborah fits, the willing tribes repair,
Refer their caufes, and the judges there;
Nor needs a guard to bring her fubjects in,
Each Grace, each Virtue, proves a guard unfeen z
Nor wants the penalties enforcing law,
While great Opinion gives effectual awe.

Now twenty years, that roll'd in heavy pain,
Saw Jabin gall them with Oppreffion's chain,
When the, fubmiffive to Divine Command,
Proclaims a war for Freedom o'er the land,
And bids young Barack with those men descend,
Whom in the mountains he for battle train'd.
Go, fays the Prophetefs, thy foes affail,
Go make ten thousand over all prevail :
Make Jabin's captains feel thine edged sword,
Make all his army, God has spoke the word.
He, fit for war and Ifrael's hope in fight,
Yet doubts the numbers, and by that the fight;
Then thus replies with wish to ftand secure,
Or eager thought to know the conquet fure ;

Belov'd

Belov'd of God, lend thou thy prefence too,
And I with gladness lead th' appointed few ;
But, if thou wilt not, let thy son deny,
For what's ten thousand men, or what am I?
If fo, fhe cries, a fhare of toil be mine,
Another fhare, and fome difhonour thine;
For God, to punish doubt, refolves to shew
That lefs than numbers can fupprefs his foe;
You'll move to conquer, and the foes to yield,
But 'tis a woman's act fecures the field.

Now feem the warriours in their ranks affign'd,
Now furling banners flutter in the wind :
Her words encourage, and his actions lead,
Hope fpurs them forward, Valour draws the blade;
And Freedom, like a fair reward for all,

Stands reaching forth her hands, and feems to call.
On t' other fide, and almoft o'er the plain,
Proud Sifera, Jabin's captain, brings his men,
As thick as locufts on the vintage fly,

As thick as fcatter'd leaves in Autumn lye,
Bold with fuccefs against a nation try'd,
And proud of numbers, and fecure in pride.

Now founds the trumpet, now my fancy warm,
And now methinks I view their toils in arms,
The lively phantoms tread my boundless mind,
And no faint colours or weak strokes design'd.
See where in diftant conqueft from afar,
The pointed arrows bring the wounds of war;
See where the lines with clofer force engage,
And thrust the spear, and whirl the fword of rage;

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Here break the files, and vainly ftrive to clofe,
There on their own repell'd affift their foes.
Here Deborah calls, and Jabin's foldiers fly,
There Barack fights and Jabin's foldiers dye.
But now nine hundred chariots roll along,
Expert their guiders and their horfes ftrong;
And Terrour, ratling in their fierce array,
Bears down on Ifrael to reftore the day.
Oh, Lord of battle, Oh, the danger 's near!
Affift thine Ifrael, or they perish here.

How fwift is Mercy's aid, behold it fly

On rushing tempefts through the troubled sky;
With dashing rain, with pelting hail they blow,
And sharply drive them on the facing foe.
Thus blefs'd with help, and only touch'd behind,
The favourite nation preffes in the wind.
But heat of action now disturbs the fight,
And wild confufion mingles all the fight;
Cold-whistling winds, and fhrieks of dying men,
And groans and armour, found in all the plain.
The bands of Canaan fate no longer dare,
Opprefs'd by weather and destroy'd by war;
And, from his chariot whence he rul'd the fight,
Their haughty leader leaps to join the flight.
See where he flies, and fee the victor near;
See rapid conqueft in purfuit of fear.

See, fee, they both make off, the work is c'er,
And fancy clear'd of vifion as before.
Thus (if the mind of man may seem to move
With foine resemblance of the skies above)

When

When wars are gathering in our hearts below,
We 've feen their battles in ethereal fhow:
The long distended tracts of opening sky,
The phantoms azure field of fight supply;
The whitish clouds an argent armor yield,
A radiant blazon gilds their argent shield;
Young glittering comets point the level'd fpear,
Which for their pennons hang their flaming hair,
And o'er the helms for gallant glory drest

Sit curls of air, and nod upon the crest.

Thus arm'd, they seem to march, and seem to fight,
And feeming wounds of death delude the sight,
The ruddy thunder-clouds look stain'd with gore,
And for the din of war within they roar.
Then flies afide, and then afide pursues,
Till in their motion all their fhapes they loofe,
Difperfing air concludes the mimic fcene,
The fky fhuts up, and fwiftly clears again.

But does their Sifera fhare the common fate,
Or mourn his humbled pride in dark retreat ?
With fuch enquiry near the palm repair,
Victorious Honour knows and tells it there.

To that fair type of Ifrael's late fuccess,
Which nobly rifes as its weights depress,
To that fair type returns the joyful band,
Whofe courage rofe to free their groaning land;
There ftands the leader in the pomp of arms,
There stands the judge in Beauty's awful charms;
And whilft, reclin'd upon the resting spear,
He pants with chace and breathes in calmer air

Her

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