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Ah! no- -the fault was mine, I stand alone,
Be thine the praise who plac'd me on the throne,
The guilt, the folly, and the shame my own.
Ev'n at my birth the fatal stain began,
And growing vice pursu'd me into man:
Too close I follow'd where inticement led,
And in the pleasing ruin plung'd my head.
How wretched is the man, how lost his mind,
Whom pleasures soften, and whon passions blind!
I should have met the foes with equal fires,
And bravely combated my own desires;
I should- -but 0; too soon I fell, for sin
Had brib'd my heart, and made a friend within.

To plead surprisal is a poor abuse, What can I say to palliate, or excuse? I broke thro' all, though conscience did her part, Conscience, the faithful guardian of the heart; How vile must I appear, how lost a thing, The worst of tyrants, and no more a king! O! do not thou my abject state despise, But let my soul find favour in thy eyes! Though loathsome is my crime, and foul the stain, The humble suppliant never kneels in vain.

Amazing terrors in my bosom roll, And damp the rising vigour of my soul;

"Tis guilt, 'tis conscious guilt, that shakes my frame,
That chills my ardor and benights my flame;
Ah! mighty GOD, vouchsafe thy quick’ning ray,
Chase from my mind those sable clouds away,
One kind regard can give again the day.
How few offenders by thy rigour fall;
Thy pity intervenes and shelters all;
Let me that vast extensive pity find,
And kindly blot my follies from my mind:
If e'er my artless youth was thy delight,
If e'er my soul was precious in thy sight,
If it is worthy thy paternal care,
Restore me to thyself, and fix me there:
A gen'rous ardour to my breast impart,
And let thy grace divine enlarge my heart,
Then should a thousand gay delusions rise,
Should flatt'ring vice sit smiling in my eyes,
Undaunted I will go my faith to prove,
And give my GOD an instance of my love!
The bright temptation shall before me flee,
my untainted soul shall rest on thee.

I fear like Saul I have incurr'd thy hate, And as I fill his throne, should share his fate; Well I remember how th' infernal guest Tumultuous heav'd, and labor'd in his breast; Amaz'd I saw his dreadful eye-balls roll, Whilst one continued earthquake shook his soul;

His frantic

rage subsided as I play'd,

And music's softer pow'rs the sprite obey'd.

That potent harp which could the fiend command,

Now drops as useless from its master's hand;
Eternal torments in my bosom rage,

My sharper griefs no music can assuage;
"Tis thou alone canst succour the distrest,
And drive the sullen fury from my breast.
Whene'er the horrid deed I backward trace,
My soul rolls inward, and forgets her peace;
Waking I dream, and in the silent night
A fearful vision stalks before my sight;
The pale Uriah walks his dreadful round,
He shakes his head, and points to ev'ry wound.,
O foul disgrace to arms! Who now will go

To fight my battles, and repel the foe?

Who now to distant climes for fame will roam,
To fall at last by treachery at home?
Unhurt, the coward may to ages stand,
The brave can only die by my command:
O, hold, my brain, to wild distraction wrought,
I will not, cannot, bear the painful thought!
O, do not fly me for thy mercy's sake!
Turn thee, O, turn, and hear the wretched speak!
Ev'n self-condemn'd thy kneeling servant save,
And raise a drooping monarch from the grave.


Speak, mighty GOD! and bid the suppliant live, my charm'd ears but hear the word-Forgive; My muse shall spread the joyful tidings round, And to remotest worlds convey the sound; Whilst other sinners shall obedient prove, And taught by me shall wonder at thy love: No more their minds ignobler fires shall warm, But looser pleasures want a pow'r to charm: My firm resolve shall their example be, To place their trust in virtue and in Thee. By other hands let the mute herd be slain, And on a thousand altars smoke in vain; These tears my better advocates shall be, No poor atoning man shall die for me; My penitence shall act a nobler part, I bring a broken and a contrite heart: But O! if stricter justice must be done, And my relentless fate comes rolling on, I stand the mark, whatever is decreed, Be Israel safe, and let its monarch bleed: On me, on me thy utmost vengeance take, But spare my people for thy mercies' sake; O let Jerusalem to ages stand,

Build thou her walls, and spread her wide command!

So shall thy name for ever be ador'd,

And future worlds like me shall bless the LORD.



SILENT Nymph, with carious eye!

Who, the purple evʼning, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man;
Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet sings;
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest with her tale;
Come, with all thy various hues,
Come, and aid thy sister Muse;
Now, while Phoebus riding high,
Gives lustre to the land and sky!
Grongar hill invites my song,
Draw the landscape bright and strong;
Grongar, in whose mossy cells,
Sweetly musing, Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose silent shade,
For the modest Muses made,
So oft I have, the even still,
At the fountain of a rill,
Sat upon the flow'ry bed,
With my hand beneath my head;

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