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Beholding in the many-tinctur'd bow
When wild ambition rear'd its impious head,
By which an Ammon, Charles, or Cæfar fall:
But faft as time's fwift pinions can convey,
Where men and angels fhall to audit come,
Meanwhile, thou great Intelligence fupreme,
Ye feraphs, who God's throne encircling ftill, With holy zeal your golden cenfers fill; Ye flaming minifters to diftant lands, Who bear, obfequious, his divine commands; Ye cherubs who compofe the facred choir, Attuning to the voice th'angelic lyre! Or ye fair natives of the heav'nly plain, Who once were mortal-now a happier train! Who fpend in peaceful love your joyful hours, In blissful meads and amaranthine bow'rs, Oh lend one fpark of your celeftial fire, Oh deign my glowing bofom to inspire, And aid the Mufe's unexperienc'd wing, While Goodness, theme divine, the foars to fing! Tho' all thy attributes divinely fair, Thy full perfection, glorious God, declare : Yet if one beams fuperior to the reft, Oh let thy goodness fairest be confeft: As fhines the moon amidst her ftarry train, As breathes the rofe amongst the flow'ry fcene, As the mild dove her filver plumes difplays, So fheds thy mercy its diftinguish'd rays.
This led, Creator mild, thy gracious hand, When formlefs Chaos heard thy high command; When pleas'd, thy eye thy matchless works review'd,
And Goodness, placid, spoke that all was good!
See fmiling nature, with thy treasures fair,
To thee for meat the callow ravens cry,
Thy hand thou open'ft, million'd myriads live;
Whofe virtue can thy deepest crimes efface,
O bleft Redeemer, from thy facred throne, Where faints and angels fing thy triumphs won! (Where, from the grave thou rais'd thy glorious Chain'd to thy car the pow'rs infernal led) [head, From that exalted height of blifs fupreme, Look down on thofe who bear thy facred name; Reftore their ways, infpire them by thy grace, Thy laws to follow, and thy fteps to trace; Thy bright example to thy doctrine join, And by their morals prove their faith divine ! Nor only to thy church confine thy ray; O'er the glad world thy healing light difplay; Fair Sun of Righteoufnels! in beauty rife, And clear the mifts that cloud the mental fkies! To Judah's remnant, now a scatter'd train, Oh great Melliah! fhow thy promis'd reign; O'er earth as wide, thy faving warmth diffufe, As fpreads the ambient air, or falling dews, And hafte the time when, vanquish'd by thy pow'r,
Death fhall expire, and fin defile no more!
Hence diftant far, ye fons of earth profane,
As only Rectitude divine he knows,
Thefe has his care on ev'ry mind imprefs'd,
But Doubt demands -- "Why man difpos'd
"Why left the dang'rous choice to go aftray?
Yet turn thy eyes, vain fceptic, own thy pride,
See vice of empire and of wealth poffefs'd, Pine at the heart, and feel herfelf unblefs'd. And fay, were yet no farther marks affign'd, Is man ungrateful? or is Heav'n unkind ? "Yes, all the woes from Heav'n permiffive fall, "The wretch adopts,--the wretch improves them
From his wild luft, or his oppreffive deed,
'Tis in that awful all-dif lofing day!
Oh then, while penitence can fate difarm, While ling'ring Juftice yet with-holds its arm; While heav'nly patience grants the precious time, Let the loft finner think him of his crime; Immediate, to the feat of mercy fly, Nor wait to morrow-left to-night he die!
But tremble, all ye fins of blackeft birth, Ye giants, that deform the face of earth; Tremble, ye fons of aggravated guilt, And, ere too late, let forrow learn to melt; Remorfelefs Murder! drop thy hand fevere, And bathe thy bloody weapon with a tear; Go, Lara impure! converte with friendly light, Forfake the manfions of defiling night; Quit, dark Hypocrify, thy thin difguife, Nor think to cheat the notice of the fkies! Unfocial Avarice, thy grafp forego, And bid the ufeful treafure learn to flow; Reftore, Injuftice, the defrauded gain! Oppreffion, bend to cafe the captive's chain, Ere awful Juftice ftrike the fatal blow, And drive you to the realms of night below! But Doubt refumes," If Justice has decreed "The punishment proportion'd to the deed, "Eternal mifery feem, too fevere, "Too dread a weight for wretched man to bear! "Too harsh!--that endic's torments thoald repay "The crimes of life, the errors of the day !"
In via our reafon would prefumptuoas pry; Heav'n's counfels are beyond conception high;
In vain would thought his measur'd justice scan! His ways how different from the ways of man! Too deep for thee his fecrets are to know; Enquire not, but more wifely fhun the woe: Warn'd by his threat'nings, to his laws attend, And learn to make Omnipotence thy friend!
Our weaker laws, to gain the purpos'd ends, Oft pafs the bounds the law-giver intends; Oft partial power, to ferve its own defign, Warps from the text, exceeding reafon's line; Strikes, bias'd, at the perfon, not the deed, And fees the guiltless unprotected bleed !
But God alone, with unimpaffion'd fight,
Thus human juftice-(far as man can go)
And you, ye happier fouls! who in his ways
As men may thence confefs his truth divine!
But oh, advent'rous Mufe, restrain thy flight, Dare not the blaze of uncreated light! Before whofe glorious throne with dread furprife, Th'adoring feraph veils his dazzled eyes; Whofe pure effulgence, radiant to excefs, No colours can deteribe, or words exprefs! All the fair beauties, all the lucid ftores, Which o'er thy works thy hand refplendent pours, Feeble, thy brighter glories to display, Pale as the noon before the folar ray!
Sce on his throne the gaudy Perfian plac'd, In all the pomp of the luxuriant east ! While mingling gems a borrow'd day unfold, And the rich pople wave: embofs'd with gold; Yet mark thi cene of pointed grandeur yield To the fairly that adorns the field !
Obscur'd, behold that fainter lily lies
That fun himfelf withdraws his leffen'd beam
How great thy glory! and thy blifs how great!
Nor thou, vain lord of earth, with carclefs ear,
Derives the pow'r to fing thy holy name,
$ 64. Ode to Wisdom. Mifs CARTER.
THE folitary bird of night
Thro' the pale fhades now wings his flight,
With joy I hear the folemn found,
And, faithful to thy fummons, bend
She loves the cool, the filent eve,
Here Folly drops each vain difguife,
O Pallas! queen of ev'ry art,
With pleafure and surprise;
That breathes no wild defires :
Not Fortune's gem, Ambition's plume,
Be objects of my pray'r:
By ftudious thought refin❜d : For wealth, the fimiles of glad content; For pow'r, its ampleft, beft extent,
An empire o'er my mind.
When Fortune drops her gay parade,
Unchang'd is thy immortal prize,
Of undifcerning wit.
From envy, hurry, noife, and ftrife,
In thy retreat I reft;
He bid Ilyffus' tuneful ftream
Of perfect, fair, and good:
In awful filence ftood. Reclaim'd, her wild licentious youth Confeft the potent voice of truth, And felt it's just controul: The paffions ceas'd their loud alarms, And virtue's foft perfuafive charms
O'er all their fenfes ftole.
Thy breath infpires the poet's fong,
No more to fabled names confin'd,
O fend her fure, her fteady ray
Thro' life's perplexing road;
To happiness and good!
Of folly's painted fhow;
$65. Elegy on the Death of Lady Coventry. Written in M.DCC.LX. MASON.
HE midnight clock has toll'd; and hark! THE the bell [found? Of death beats flow! Heard ye the note proIt paufes now; and now, with rifing knell, Flings to the hollow gale its fullen found. Yes; Coventry is dead. Attend the strain, Daughters of Albion! ye that, light as air, So oft have tripp'd in her fantastic train,
With hearts as gay, and faces half as fair: For fhe was fair beyond yon brighteft bloom (This envy owns, fince now her bloom is fled); Fair as the forms that, wove in fancy's loom,
Float in light vifion round the poet's head. Whene'er with foft ferenity fhe fmil'd,
Or caught the orient blufh of quick furprize, How fweetly mutable, how brightly wild, The liquid luftre darted from her eyes! Each look, each motion, wak'd a new-born grace, That o'er her form its tranfient glory cait: Some lovelier wonder foon ufurp'd the place, Chac'd by a charın ftill lovelier than the last.
That bell again! It tells us what she is;
Where cold and wan the flumb'rer refts her In ftill finall whifpers to reflection's ear
She breathes the folemn dictates of the dead. O catch the awful notes, and lift them loud! Proclaim the theme by fage, by fool, rever'd; Hear it, ye young, ye vain, ye great, ye proud! 'Tis Nature fpeaks, and Nature will be heard. Yes; ye fhall hear, and tremble as you hear, While, high with health, your hearts exulting E'en in the midft of pleasure's mad career, [leap; The mental monitor fhall wake and weep! For fay, than Coventry's propitious star, What brighter planet on your births arose? Or gave of fortune's gifts an ampler share, In life to lavish, or by death to lofe? Early to lofe! While borne on busy wing,
Ye fip the nectar of each varying bloom; Nor fear, while basking in the beams of spring, The wint❜ry ftorm that sweeps you to the tomb; Think of her fate! revere the heav'nly hand
That led her hence, tho' foon, by steps fo flow: Long at her couch Death took his patient ftand, And menac'd oft, and oft withheld the blow: To give reflection time, with lenient art,
Each fond delufion from her foul to steal; Teach her from folly peaceably to part,
And wean her from a world the lov'd fo well. Say, are ye fure his mercy shall extend
To you fo long a fpan? Alas, yefigh! [friend, Make then, while yet ye may, your God your And learn with equal ease to fleep or die! Nor think the Mufe, whofe fober voice ye hear,
Contracts with bigot frown her fullen brow; Cafts round religion's orb the mifts of fear, [glow.
Or fhades with horrors what with smiles fhould No; fhe would warm you with feraphic fire, Heirs as ye are of heav'n's eternal day; Would bid you boldly to that heav'n aspire,
Not fink and flumber in your cells of clay. Know, ye were form'd to range yon azure field, In yon etherial founts of blifs to lave: For then, fecure in faith's protecting fhield,
The fting from death,the vict'ry from the grave! Is this the bigot's rant? Away, ye vain, [fteep: Your hopes, your fears, in doubt, in dulnefs Go foothe your fouls, in sickness, grief, or pain, With the fad folace of eternal fleep!
Yet will I praise you, triflers as ye are, [creed,
More than thofe preachers of your fav'rite Who proudly fwell the brazen throat of war,
Who form the phalanx, bid the battle bleed, Nor wifh for more; who conquer but who die. Hear, Folly, hear, and triumph in the tale! Like you they reafon, not like you enjoy The breeze of blifs that fills your filken fail: