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And ftoried arch, to glut the coward race
Of regal envy, ftrew the public way
With hallow'd ruins!-when the mufe's haunt,
The marble porch where wifdom, wont to talk
With Socrates or Tully, hears no more,
Save the hoarfe jargon of contentious monks,
Or female fuperftition's midnight pray'r;—
When ruthless rapine from the hand of Time
Tears the deftroying fcythe, with furer blow
To fweep the works of glory from their bafc;
Till defolation o'er the grafs-grown street
Expands his raven-wings, and up the wall,
Where fenates once the pride of monarchs doom'd,
Hitles the gliding snake thro' hoary weeds
That clafp the mould'ring column;-thus defac'd,
Thus widely mournful when the profpect thrills
Thy beating bofom, when the patriot's tear
Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm
In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove
To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow,
Or dash Octavius from the trophied car ;-
Say, does thy fecret foul repine to tafte
The big diftrefs? Or wouldst thou then exchange
Thofe heart-ennobling forrows, for the lot
Of him who fits amid the gaudy herd
Of mute barbarians bending to his nod,
And bears aloft his gold-invefted front,
And fays within himself, " I am a king,
"And wherefore fhould the clam'rous voice of
"Intrude upon mine ear?" The baleful dregs
Of thefe late ages, this inglorious draught
Of fervitude and folly, have not yet,
Bleft be th' Eternal Ruler of the world!
Defil'd to fuch a depth of fordid shame
The native honours of the human foul,
Nor fo effac'd the image of its fire.

The cavern's depth, or echoing grove,
A voice is heard of praife, and love.
As o'er thy work the feafons roll,
And footh, with charge of blifs, the foul,
Oh never may their smiling train
Pafs o'er the human fcene in vain!
But oft, as on the charm we gaze,
Attune the wond'ring foul to praife;
And be the joys that moft we prize
The joys that from thy favour rife!

$267. A Paraphrafe on Isaiah xlix. 15. Mifs WILLIAMS.

Can a woman forget her fucking child, that the thould not have come

pation on the fon of her womb? Yea, they may forget; yet will ☎ not forget thee.

HEAVEN Speaks! Oh Nature, liften and rejoice!

Oh fpread from pole to pole this gracious voice! "Say every breaft of human frame, that proves "The boundless force with which a parent loves "Say, can a mother from her yearning heart "Bid the foft image of her child depart! "She! whom strong inftinct arms with ftrength

"to bear

"All forms of ill, to fhield that dearcft care;

"Shef who with anguish ftung, with madnesswild, "Will ruth on death to fave her threaten'd child; [woe" All felfifh feelings banish'd from her breast, "Her life one aim to make another's bleft. "When her vex'd infant to her bofom clings, "When round her neck his eager arms he flings; "Breathes to her lift'ning foul his melting figh "And lifts fuffus'd with tears his asking eye! "Will the for all ambition can attain, "The charms of pleafure, or the lures of gain, Betray ftrong Nature's feelings; will the prove "Cold to the claims of duty, and of love? "But should the mother from her yearning hear "Bid the foft image of her child depart; "When the vex'd infant to her bofom clings, "When round her neck his eager arms he flings; "Should the unpitying hear his melting figh, "And view unmov'd the tear that fills his eye; "Should the for all ambition can attain,

§ 266. A Paraphrafe on Pfalm lxxiv. 16, 17. Mifs WILLIAMS. The day is thine, the night alfo is thine; thou haft prepared the light

and the fun.

Thou haft fet all the borders of the earth; thou haft made fummer and winter.

MY God! all nature owns thy fway,

Thou giv'ft the night, and thou the day!
When all thy lov'd creation wakes,
When morning, rich in luftre, breaks,
And bathes in dew the op'ning flower,
To thee we owe her fragrant hour;
And when the pours her choral song,
Her melodies to thee belong!
Or when, in paler tints array'd,
The evening flowly spreads her fhade;
That foothing fhade, that grateful gloom,
Can more than day's enliv'ning bloom
Still every fond and vain defire,
And calmer, purer thoughts infpire;
From earth the penfive fpirit free,
And lead the foften'd heart to Thee.
In every scene thy hands have drest,
every form by thee impreft,

In

Upon the mountain's awful head,

Or where the fhelt'ring woods are spread;
In every note that fwells the gale,
Or tuneful ftream that cheers the valo,

"The charms of pleasure, or the lures of gain, Betray trong Nature's feelings-fhould the prove

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"Cold to the claims of duty, and of love!
"Yet never will the God, whofe word gave birth
“To yon illumin'd orbs, and this fair earth;
"Who thro' the boundless depths of track lef's space
"Bade new-wak'dbeautyfpread each perfect grace;
"Yet when he form'd the vast stupendous whole,
"Shed his best bounties on the human foul;
"Which reafon's light illumes, which friendship

"warms,

"Which pity foftens, and which virtue charms;
"Which feels the pure affections gen'rous glow,
"Shares others joy, and bleeds for others woe-
"Oh never will the gen'ral Father prove
"Of man forgetful, man the child of love!"
When all thofe planets in their ample spheres
Have wing'd their course, and roll'ɗ their deftin'd

ycars;

When

When the vaft fun fhall veil his golden light
Deep in the gloom of everlasting night;
When wild,deftructive flames fhall wrap the fkies,
When Chaos triumphs, and when Nature dies;
Man fhall alone the wreck of worlds furvive,
'Midft falling fpheres, immortal man fhall live!
The voice which bade the laft dread thunders roll,
Shall whifper to the good, and cheer their foul.
God fhall himfelf his favour'd creature guide
Where living waters pour their blissful tide,
Where the enlarg'd, exulting, wond'ring mind
Shall foar, from weaknefs and from guilt refin'd;
Where perfect knowledge, bright with cloudlefs

rays,

Shall gild eternity's unmeafur'd days;
Where friendship, unembitter'd by distrust,
Shall in immortal bands unite the juft;
Devotion rais'd to rapture breathe her ftrain,
And love in his eternal triumph reign!

§ 268. A Paraphrafe on Matt. vii. 12. Mifs WILLIAMS. Whatfoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even fɔ to them.

Thou righteous Law! whofe clear and useful light
Sheds on the mind a ray divinely bright;
Condenfing in one rule whate'er the fage
Has proudly taught, in many a labour'd page;
Bid every heart thy hallow'd voice revere,
To juftice facred, and to nature dear!

THOMSON.

§ 269. A Paraphrafe on the latter Part of the
Sixth Chapter of St. Matthew.
WHEN my breaft labours with oppreffive care,
And o'er my cheek defcends the falling tear;
While all my warring paffions are at ftrife,

O, let me liften to the words of life!
Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart,
And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart.

Think not, when all your fcanty ftores afford
Is fpread at once upon the fparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While on the roof the howling tempeft bears,
What farther fhall this feeble life fuftain,
And what fhall clothe thefe fhiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its invefting weed?
Behold! and look away your low defpair-
See the light tenants of the barren air :
To them nor ftores nor granaries belong;
Nought but the woodland and the pleafing fong;
Yet, your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye
On the leaft wing that fits along the fky.
To him they fing, when fpring renews the
plain;

To him they cry, in winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their mufic nor their plaint in vain:
He hears the gay and the diftrefsful calk,
And with unfparing bounty fills them all.

Obferve the rifing lily's fnowy grace,
Obferve the various vegetable race;
They neither toil nor fpin, but carelefs grow,
Yet fee how warm they blufh! how bright they
glow!

PRECEPT divine! to earth in mercy given,
O rule of action, worthy heaven!
Whofe pitying love ordain'd the blefs'd command
To bind our nature in a firmer band;
Enforce each human fuff 'rer's ftrong appeal,
And teach the selfish breaft what others feel;
Wert thou the guide of life, mankind might know
A foft exemption from the worst of woc;
No more the powerful would the weak opprefs,
But tyrants learn the luxury to blefs;
No more would flav'ry bind a hopeless train
Of human victims, in her galling chain;
Mercy the hard, the cruel heart would move
To foften mis'ry by the deeds of love;
And avʼrice from his hoarded treasures give
Unafk'd, the liberal boon, that want might live!
The impious tongue of falsehood then would ceafe
To blaft, with dark fuggeftions, virtue's peace;
No more would fpleen or paffion banish reft,
And plant a pang in fond affection's breast;
By one harth word, one alter'd look, destroy
Her peace, and wither every op'ning joy;
Scarce can her tongue the captious wrong explain,
The flight offence which gives fo deep a pain!
Th' affected cafe that flights her starting tear,
The words whofe coldnefs kills from lips fo dear;-
The hand the loves, alone can point the dart,
Whofe hidden fting could wound no other heart—
Thefe, of all pains the sharpeft we endure,
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year.
The breaft which now inflicts, would fpring to How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!

cure.

No more deferted genius then would fly
To breathe in folitude his hopeless figh;
No more would Fortune's partial smile debafe
The fpirit, rich in intellectual grace;
Who views unmov'd from fcenes where pleasures

bloom,

The flame of genius funk in mis'ry's gloom;
The foul heav'n form'd to foar, by want depreft,
Nor heeds the wrongs that pierce a kindred breaft.

What regal veftments can with them compare
What king fo fhining! or what queen to fair!

If, ceafelefs, thus the fowls of heav'n he feeds,
If o'er the fields fuch lucid robes he fpreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithlefs, fay?
Is he unwife? or, are ye lefs than they

§ 270. Reflections on a Future State, from Review of Winter. THOMSON.

'TIS

IS done! dread Winter spreads his lateft glooms,

How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His defolate domain. Behold, fond man!
See here thy pictur'd life: pafs fome few years,
Thy flow'ring Spring, thy Summer's ardent
Thy fober Autumn fading into age, [ftrength,
And pale concluding Winter comes at laft,
And thuts the fcene. Ah! whither now are fed
Thofe dreams of greatnefs? thofe unfolid hos
Of happiness? those longings after fame?
Thofe rcftlefs cares? thofe bufy bustling days'

Thofe

Thofe gay-fpent, feftive nights? thofe veering | To pour in virtue at th' attentive eye,

thoughts

now,

Loft between good and ill, that shar'd thy life?
All now are vanifh'd! Virtue fole furvives,
Immortal never-failing friend of man,
His guide to happiness on high. And fee!
'Tis come, the glorious morn! the second birth
Of heaven and earth! awak'ning nature hears
The new-creating word, and starts to life,
In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death
For ever free. The great eternal scheme,
Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting as the profpect wider fpreads,
To reaton's eye refin'd clears up apace,
Ye vainly wife! ye blind presumptuous!
Confounded in the duft, adore that Pow'r
And Wisdom oft arraign'd; fee now the cause
Why unaffuming worth in fecret liv'd,
And died neglected: why the good man's fhare
In life was gall and bitterness of foul:
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd
In ftarving folitude; while luxury,
In palaces, lay ftraining her low thought,
To form unreal wants: why heaven-born truth,
And moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of fuperftition's fcourge: why licens'd pain,
That cruel fpoiler, that embofom'd foe,
Embitter'd all our blifs. Ye good diftrefs'd!
Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's preffure, yet bear up awhile,
And what your bounded view, which only faw
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more:
The ftorms of Wintry Time will quickly pafs,
And one unbounded Spring encircle all.

§ 271. A Prayer in the Profpect of Death. BURNS.
THOU unknown Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!

In whofe dread Prefence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!

If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life J ought to fhun,

As Something loudly in my breaft

Remonftrates I have done;

Thou know'ft that Thou haft formed me
With paffions wild and ftrong;
And lift ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.

Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept afide,

Do Thou, All-Good! for fuch Thou art,
In fhades of darknefs hide.

Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,

But, Thou art good; and goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.

272. The Genealogy of Chrift, as it is repre-
fented on the East Window of Winchester Col-
lege Chapel. Written at Winton School, by Dr.
raife
our rev'rence and delight,
To clevate the mind, and pleafe the fight,

LOW TH.

At once to

And waft the foul on wings of ecstasy;
For this the painter's art with nature vies,
And bids the vifionary faint arife:
Who views the facred forms in thought afpires,
Catches pure zcal, and as he gazes, fires,
Feels the fame ardour to his breast convey'd;
Is what he fees, and emulates the fhade.

Thy ftrokes, great Artist, so sublime appear,
They check our pleasure with an awful fear;
While thro' the mortal line the God you trace,
Author himself and Heir of Jeffe's race,
In raptures we admire thy bold defign,
And, as the fubject, own the hand divine.
While thro' thy work the rifing day fhall stream,
So long fhall laft thine honour, praife, and name.
And may thy labours to the Muse impart
Some emanation from her fifter art,
To animate the verfe, and bid it shine
In colours cafy, bright, and ftrong as thine!
Supine on earth an awful figure lies,
While fofteft flumbers feem to feal his eyes;
The hoary fire Heaven's guardian care demands,
And at his feet the watchful angel ftands.
The form auguft and large, the mien divine,
Betray the founder of Meffiah's line*.
Lo! from his loins the promis'd ftem afcend,
And high to Heaven its facred boughs extend:
Each limb productive of fome hero fprings,
And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings.
Th'eternal plant wide spreads its arms around,
And with the mighty branch the mystic top is

crown'd.

And lo! the glories of th' illuftrious line At their first dawn with ripen'd splendours fhine, In David all exprefs'd; the good, the great, The king, the hero, and the man complete. Serene he fits, and fweeps the golden lyre, And blends the prophet's with the poet's fire, See with what art he ftrikes the vocal ftrings, The God, his theme, infpiring what he fings! Hark-or our cars delude us-from his tongue Sweet flows, or feems to flow, fome heavenly fong. Oh could thine art arreft the fleeting found, And paint the voice in magic numbers bound; Could the warm fun, as erft whẹn Memnon play'd,

Wake with his rifing beam the yocal shade; Then might he draw th' attentive angels down, Bending to hear the lay, fo fweet, fo like their

own.

On either fide the monarch's offspring fhine,
And fome adorn, and fome difgrace their line.
Here Ammon glories; proud incestuous lord!
This hand fuftains the robe, and that the fword.
Frowning and fierce, with haughty strides he
tow'rs,

And on his horrid brow defiance low'rs,
There Abfalom the ravi h'd fceptre fways,
And his ftolen honour all his fhame difplays;
The bafe ufurper Youth! who joins in one
The rebel fubject and th' ungrateful fon.

Amid the royal race, fee Nathan stand:
Fervent he seems to speak, and lift his hand,
Jette,

*

His looks th' emotion of his foul difclofe,
And eloquence from ev'ry gefture flows.
Such, and fo ftern he came, ordain'd to bring
Th' ungrateful mandate to the guilty King:
When, at his dreadful voice, a fudden fmart
Shot thro' the trembling monarch's confcious heart,
From his own lips condemn'd; fevere decree!
Had his God prov'd fo ftern a Judge as He.
But man with frailty is allied by birth;
Confummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth :
Thro' all the foul tho' virtue holds the rein,
Beats at the heart, and fprings in ev'ry vein,
Yet ever from the cleareft fource have ran
Some grofs alloy, fome tincture of the man.

}

But who is he, deep-mufing? in his mind, He feems to weigh in reafon's fcales mankind; Fix'd contemplation holds his fteady eyesI know the fage, the wifeft of the wife. Bleft with all man could with, or prince obtain, Yet his great heart pronounc'd thofe bleffings vain. And lo! bright glittering in his facred hands, In miniature the glorious temple ftands. Effulgent frame! ftupendous to behold! Gold the ftrong valves, the roof of burnish'd gold. The wand'ring ark, in that bright dome enfhrin'd, Spreads the ftrong light, eternal, unconfin'd! Above th' unutterable glory plays, Prefence divine! and the full-ftreaming rays Pour thro' reluctant clouds intolerable blaze. But ftern oppreffion rends Reboamn's reign; See the gay prince, injurious, proud, and vain! Th'imperial fceptre totters in his hand, And proud rebellion triumphs in the land. Curs'd with corruption's ever-fruitful spring, A beardlefs Senate and a haughty King. There Afia, good and great, the fceptre bears, Juftice attends his peace, fuccefs his wars: While virtue was his fword and Heavenhis fhield, Without controul the warrior fwept the field; Loaded with fpoils, triumphant he return'd, And half her fwarthy fons fad Ethiopia mourn'd. But fince thy flagging piety decay'd, And barter'd God's defence for human aid; See their fair laurels wither on thy brow, Nor herbs nor healthful arts avail thee now, Nor is Heaven chang'd, apoftate prince, but

thou.

No mean atonement docs this lapfe require;
But fee the Son, you must forgive the Sire:
He +, the juft prince-with ev'ry virtue blefs'd
He reign'd, and goodnefs all the man poflefs'd;
Around his throne fair happiness and pea e
Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and imil'd in ev'r face.
As when along the burning wafte he ftray'd,
Where no pure streams in bubbling mazes play'd,
Where drought incumbent on the thirty ground
Long fince had breath'd her fcorching blaits around,
The prophet calls, th' obedient floods repair
To the parch'd fields, for Jofaphat was there.
The new-fpring waves, in many a gurgling vein,
Trickle luxurious through the fucking plain;

• Solomon. + Jofaphat.

Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn,
And o'er the defert plenty pours her horn.
So, from the throne his influence he sheds,
And bids the virtues raife their languid heads
Where'er he gocs, attending Truth prevails,
Oppreffion flies, and Juftice lifts her scales.
See, on his arm the royal eagle stand,
Great type of conqueft and fupreme command;
Th' exulting bird distinguish'd triumph brings,
And greets the Monarch with expanded wings.
Fierce Moab's fons prevent th'impending blow,
Rufh on themfelves, and fall without the foe.
The pious hero vanquifh'd Heaven by pray'r;
His faith an army, and his vows a war.
Thee too, Ozias, fates indulgent blefs'd,
And thy days fhone in faireft actions drefs'd
Till that raih hand, by fome blind frenzy fway'd,
Unclean, the facred office durft invade.
Quick o'er thy limbs the fcurfy venom ran,
And hoary filth befprinkled all the man.

[shrines.

Tranfmiflive worth adorns the pious § Son, The father's virtues with the father's throne. Lo! there he ftands: he who the rage fubdued Of Ammon's fons, and drench'd his fword in blood And doft thou, Ahaz, Judah's fcourge, difgrace With thy bafe front the glories of thy race? See the vile King his iron fceptre bear→→ His only praife attends the pious || Heir; He, in whofe foul the virtues all confpire, The best good fon from the worst wicked fire. And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign, Long exil'd piety returns again; Again in genuine purity the thines, And with her pretence gilds the long-neglected Ill-starr'd does proud Affyria's impious ** Lord Bid Heaven to arms, and vaunt his dreadful sword; His own vain threats th infulting King o'er throw, But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foe. Th'avenging Angel, by divine command, The fiery fword full-blazing in his hand, Leantdown from Heaven: amid the ftorm he rode March'd Peftilence before him; as he trod, Pale Defolation bath'd his steps in blood. Thick wrapt in night thro' the proud host he pafs'd, Difpenfing death, and drove the furious bialt; Nor bade deftruction give her revels o'er Till the gorg'd fword was drunk with human gere But what avails thee, pious prince, in vain Thy fceptre refcued, and th' Affyrian flain ? Even now the foul maintains her latest ftrife, And death's chill grafp congeals the fount of life. Yet fee, kind Heaven renews thy brittle thread, And roils full fifteen fummers o'er thy head; Lo! the receding fun repeats his way, And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day. Tho' nature her inverted courfe forego, The day forget to reft, the time to flow, Yet thall Jehovah's fervants ftand fecure, His mercy fix'd, eternal fhall endure; On them her ever-healing rays thall thine; More mild and bright, andfure, O fun! thanthine

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At length the long-expected Prince behold,
The laft good King; in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar fpcke his future fame,
Rent to its bale, at good Jofiah's name.
Bleft, happy prince! o'er whofe lamented urn,
In plaintive fong, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom fad Sion's fofteft forrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his fweet melodious woes.
But now fallen Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in duft, abandon'd, defolate;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguish tears her with convuifive fighs.
The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain,
Her hands, that rankle with the fervile chain;
Tillhe, great Chief! in Heaven's appointed time,
Leads back her children to their native clime.
Fair liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envied walls fecurely rife.
And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again fhalt lift fublime thy facred head.
But, ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint resemblance of the old in you.
No more th' effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful anfwers from the mystic cloud;
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine;
And Heaven has left thy folitary fhrine.
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter fhalt thou fee
Prefence immediate of the Deity, [Thee.
The light himself reveal'd,the God confefs'd in

:}

And now at length the fated term of years The world's defire have brought, and lo! the God appears.

And thou, O tomb, once more fhalt wide display
Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey.
Thou, groaning earth, fhalt heave, abforpt inflame,
As the laft pangs convulfe thy lab'ring frame;
When the fame God unfhrouded theu fhalt fee,
Wrapt in full blaze of pow'r and majesty,
Ride on the clouds; whilft, as his chariot flies,
The bright effufion ftreams thro' all the fkies.
Then thall the proud diffolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow:
The molten deluge round the globe fhall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.
Then thall the fplendours of th' enliven'd glass
Sink undiftinguish'd in the burning mafs.
And, oh! till earth, and feas, and heaven decay,
Ne'er may that fair creation fade away;
Maywinds and ftorms thofe beauteous colours fpare,
Still may they bloom, as permanent as fair;
All the vain rage of wafting time repel,
And his tribunal fee, whofe Crofs they paint fo well.

8273. On the Death of Frederic Prince of Wales.
Written at Paris, by DAVID LORD VISCOUNT
STORMONT, of Chrift Church, Oxon.
LITTLE I whilom deem'd my artlefs zeal
Should woo the British Mufe in foreign land
To ftrains of bitter argument, and teach
The minic Nymph that haunts the winding verge
And oozy current of Parifian Seine,

To fyllable new founds in accents ftrange.

But fad occafion calls: who now forbears
The laft kind office? who but confecrates
His off'ring at the fhrine of fair Renown
To gracious Frederic rais'd; tho' but compos'd
Of the wafte flow'rets, whofe neglected hues
Chequer the lonely hedge, or mountain flope?

Where are thofe hopes, where fled th’illufive,

fcenes

That forgeful fancy plann'd, what time the bark
Stemm'd the falt wave from Albion's chalky bourn?
Then filial Piety and parting Love

Pour'd the fond pray'r-" Farewel, ye less'ning
"cliffs,

"Fairer to me than aught in fabled fong
"Or myftic record told of fhores Atlantic!
"Favour'd of Heaven, farewel! imperial ifle,
"Native to nobleft wits, and beft approv'd

The Heavenly Babe the Virgin Mother bears,
And her fond looks confefs the parent's cares;
The pleafing burden on her breaft the lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a fmile furveys:
The infant fmiles, to her fond bofom prefs'd,
And wantons, fportive, on the mother's breaft.
A radiant glory speaks him all Divine,
And in the Child the beams of Godhead fhine.
But now, alas! far other views difclofe
The blackeft comprehenfive fcene of woes.
See where man's voluntary facrifice
Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies!
Fix'd to the Crofs his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy ftreams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life exhaufting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the stubborn foul,
As all death's tortures, with fevere delay,
Exult and riot in the nobleft prey!
And canft thou, ftupid man, thofe forrows fee,
Nor fhare the anguish which He bears for thee?
Thy fin, for which his facred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn.
Canft thou --while nature fmarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the fympathetic ground!
Lo! the black fun, his chariot backward driven,
Blots out the day, and perifhes from Heaven:
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part;
And the rent rock upbraids man's ftubborn heart.
The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign,
And the cold clay-clad dead ftart into life again." Shrill tabor pipes, and ev'ry peaceful found.

66

In manly fcience and advent'rous deed!
"Celeftial Freedom, by rude hand eftrang'd
"From regions once frequented, with Thee takes
"Her ftedfaft ftation, faft befide the throne
"Of fcepter'd rule, and there her state maintains
"In focial concord, and harmonious love,
"Thefe bleffings ftill be thine, nor meddling fiend
"Stir in your bufy ftreets foul Faction's roar;
"Still thrive your growing works, and gales
"propitious

"Vifit your fons who ride the wat❜ry wafte;
"And ftill be heard from forth your gladfome
"bow'rs

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