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But let the men that in thy name delight
Be like the fun in heavenly glory bright.
When mounted on the dawn he posts away,
And with full strength encreases on the day.

'Twas here the Prophetess refpir'd from song,
Then loudly shouted all the chearful throng,
By freedom gain'd, by victory complete,
•Prepar'd for mirth irregularly great.

The frowns of forrow gave their ancient place
To pleasure, drawn in smiles of every face.
The groans of flavery were no longer wrung,
But thoughts of comfort from the blessing sprung.
And as they shouted.from the breezy weft,
Amongst the plumes that deck the finger's creft,
The spirit of applause itself convey'd

(On wafted air, and lightly waving play'd:
Such was the case (or such ideas flow,

From thought replenish'd with triumphant fhow).
What rais'd their joy their love could also raise,
And each contended in the words of praife,
And every word proclaim'd the wonders past,
And God was ftill the first, and still the laft;
¿Deep in their fouls the fair impreffion lay,
Deep-trac'd, and never to be worn away.

From hence the rescued generation still
Abhorr'd the practice of rebellious ill,
And fear'd the punishment for ill abhorr'd,
And lov'd repentance, and ador'd the Lord.

From hence in all their days the Lord was kind, His face ferene with fettled favour fhin'd,

Fair banish'd Order was recall'd in ftate,

The laws reviv'd, the princes rul'd the gate,
Peace chear'd the vales, Contentment laugh'd with Peace,
Gay-blooming Plenty rofe with large increase,
Sweet Mercy those who thought on mercy bleft,
And fo for forty years the land had reft.

Reft, happy land, a while; ah longer fo,
Didft thou thine happiness fincerely know!
But foon thy quiet with thy goodness past,
And in the fong alone obtain’d to last.

Live, 'fong triumphant, live in fair record,
And teach succeeding times to fear the Lord;
For fancy moves by bright example woo'd,
And wins the mind with images of good.
Touch'd with a facred rage and heavenly flame,
I ftrive to fing thine univerfal aim.

To quit the fubje&t, and in lays fublime,
The moral fit for any point of time.
Then go, my verses, with applying strain,
Go form a triumph not afcrib'd to men.

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Let all the clouds of grief impending lie,

And ftorms of trouble drive along the sky,
Then humble Piety thine accents raise,

For prayer will prove the powerful charm of eafe.
Lo, now my foul has spoke its best desires,
How bleffings anfwer what the prayer requires!
Before thy fighs the clouds of grief retreat,
The ftorms of trouble by thy tears abate,
And radiant glory, from her upper sphere,
Looks down and glitters in relented air.

Rife, lovely Piety, from earthy bed, The parted flame defcends upon thine head, This wondrous Mitre, fram'd by facred love, And for thy triumph fent thee from above, In two bright points with upper rays aspires, And rounds thy temples with innocuous fires. Rife, lovely Piety, with pomp appear, And thou, kind Mercy, lend thy chariot here; On either fide, fair Fame and Honour place, Behind let Plenty walk in hand with Peace; While Irreligion, muttering horrid found, With fierce and proud Oppreffion backward bound, Drag by the wheels along the dusty plain,

And gnashing lick the ground, and curfe with pain.
Now come, ye thousands, and more thoufands yet,
With order join to fill the train of state,

Souls tun'd for praifing to the temple bring,
And thus amidst the facred mufic fing:
Hail, Piety! triumphant goodness, hail!
Hail, O prevailing, ever O prevail!
At thine entreaty, Juftice leaves to frown,
And wrath appeafing lays the thunder down;
The tender heart of yearning Mercy burns,
Love asks a bleffing, and the Lord returns.
In his great name that heaven and earth has made,
In his great name alone we find our aid;

Then blefs the Name, and let the world adore,
From this time forward, and for evermore,

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H A N

ANN A H.

NOW crouds move off, retiring trumpets found, On echoes dying in their last rebound; The notes of fancy feem no longer strong, But fweetening clofes fit a private fong. So when the storms forfake the fea's command, To break their forces in the winding land, No more their blasts tumultuous rage proclaim, But. fweep in murmurs o'er a murmuring ftream.

Then feek the fubject, and its fong be mine,
Whofe numbers, mixt in, facred story, shine:
Go, brightly-working thought, prepar'd to fly,
Above the page on hovering pinions lye,
And beat with ftronger force, to make thee rife
Where beauteous Hannah meets the fearching eyes.
There frame a town, and fix a tent with cords,
The town be Shiloh call'd,. the tent the Lord's.
Carv'd pillars, filleted with filver, rear,

To close the curtains in an outward fquare,
But thofe within it, which the porch uphold,
Be finely wrought, and overlaid with gold.
Here Eli comes to take the refting-feat,
Slow moving forward with a reverend gait:
Sacred in office, venerably fage,

And venerably great in filver'd age.
Here Hannah comes, a melancholy wife,
Reproach'd for barren in the marriage-life;

Like fummer mornings fhe to fight appears,
Bedew'd and fhining in the midst of tears.
Her heart in bitterness of grief the bow'd,
And thus her wishes to the Lord fhe vow'd:
If thou thine handmaid with compaffion fee,
If I, my God! am not forgot hy thee;
If in mine affspring thou prolong my line,
The child I wish for all his days be thine ;
His life devoted, in thy courts be led,
And not a razor come upon his head.

So, from recefies of her inmoit. foul,
Through moving lips her ftill devotion stole:
As filent waters glide. through parted trees,
Whose branches tremble with a rifing breeze.
The words were loft because her heart was low,
But free defire had taught the mouth to go;
This Eli mark'd, and, with a voice fevere,
While yet fhe multiply'd her thoughts in prayer,
How long fhall wine, he cries, diftract thy breast?
Be gone, and lay the drunken fit by rest.

Ah! fays the mourner, count not this for fin,
It is not wine, but grief, that works within;
The fpirit of thy wretched hand-maid know,
Her prayer 's complaint, and her condition-woe.
Then fpake the facred priest, in peace depart,
And with thy comfort God fulfil thine heart!
His bleffing thus pronounc'd with awful found,
The votary bending leaves the folemn ground,
She feems confirm'd the Lord has heard her cries,
And chearful hope the tears of trouble dries,

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