His Name, O Ifrael, Heaven's Eternal Lord,
For-ever honour'd, reverenc'd, and ador'd.
When to the fight from Egypt's fruitful foil,
Pour'd forth in myriads all the fons of Nile;
The Lord o'erthrew the courfer and the car,
Sunk Pharaoh's pride, and overwhelm'd his war.
Beneath th' encumber'd deeps his legions lay,
For many a league impurpling all the fea

The chiefs, and steeds, and warriors whirl'd around,
Lay midst the roarings of the furges drown'd.

Who fhall thy power, thou mighty God, withstand, And check the force of thy victorious hand?

Thy hand, which red with wrath in terror rose,
To crush that day thy proud Egyptian foes.
Struck by that hand, their drooping fquadrons fall,
Crowding in death; one fate o'erwhelms them all.
Soon as thy anger, charg'd with vengeance, came,
They funk like ftubble crackling in the flame.
At thy dread voice the summon'd billows crowd,
And a still filence lulls the wondering flood:
Roll'd up, the crystal ridges ftrike the skies,
Waves peep o'er waves, and feas o'er feas arife.
Around in heaps the liftening furges ftand,
Mute and obfervant of the high command.
Congeal'd with fear attends the watery train,
Rous'd from the fecret chambers of the main.
With favage joy the fons of Egypt cry'd,
(Vaft were their hopes, and boundless was their pride)
Let us pursue thofe fugitives of Nile,

This fervile nation, and divide the spoil:

And spread fo wide the flaughter, till their blood
Dyes with a ftronger red the blushing flood.
Oh! what a copious prey their hofts afford,
To glut and fatten the devouring fword!

As thus the yawning gulf the boafters pafs'd, At thy command rufh'd forth the rapid blast. Then, at the fignal given, with dreadful fway, In one huge heap roll'd down the roaring fea And now the difintangled waves divide, Unlock their folds, and thaw the frozen tide. The deeps alarm'd call terribly from far The loud, embattled furges to the war; Till her proud fons aftonith'd Egypt found, Cover'd with billows, and in tempefts drown'd. What God can emulate thy power divine, Or who oppofe his miracles to thine? When joyful we adore thy glorious name, Thy trembling foes confefs their fear and fhame. The world attends thy abfolute command, And nature waits the wonders of thine hand. That hand, extended o'er the fwelling fea, The confcious billows reverence and obey. O'er the devoted race the furges fweep, And whelm the guilty nation in the deep. That hand redeem'd us from our fervile toil, And each infulting tyrant of the Nile: Our nation came beneath that mighty hand, From Egypt's realms, to Canaan's facred land. Thou wert their Guide, their Saviour, and their God, To smooth the way, and clear the dreadful road.

The

The diftant kingdoms fhall thy wonders hear,
The fierce Philistines fhall confefs their fear;
Thy fame shall over Edom's princes spread,
And Moab's kings, the universal dread ;
While the vast scenes of miracles impart
A thrilling horror to the braveft heart.
As through the world the gathering terror runs,
Canaan fhall fhrink, and tremble for his fons.
Till thou haft Jacob from his bondage brought,
At fuch a vast expence of wonders bought,
To Canaan's promis'd realms and bleft abodes,
Led through the dark receffes of the floods.
Crown'd with their tribes fhall proud Moriah rise,
And rear his fummit nearer to the skies.

Through ages, Lord, shall firetch thy boundless power, Thy throne shall stand when Time fhall be no more: For Pharaoh's steeds, and cars, and warlike train, Leap'd in, and boldly rang'd the fandy plain. While in the dreadful road, and defart way, The fhining crowds of gafping fifhes lay: Till, all around with liquid toils befet, The Lord fwept o'er their heads the watery net. He freed the ocean from his fecret chain, And on each hand discharg'd the thundering main. The loofen'd billows burst from every fide, And whelm the war and warriors in the tide ; But on each hand the folid billows stood, Like lofty mounds to check the raging flood; Till the bleft race to promis'd Canaan paft O'er the dry path, and trod the watery wafte.

The THIRD ODE of the SECOND Book of
HORACE, PARAPHRASED.

LET the brave youth be train'd, the stings

Of poverty to bear,

And in the school of want be taught

The exercise of war.

Let him be practis'd in his bloom,

To listen to alarms,

And learn proud Parthia to fubdue

With unrefifted arms.

The hoftile tyrant's beauteous bride,
Distracted with despair,
Beholds him pouring to the fight,
And thundering through the war.
As from the battlements the views
The flaughter of his fword,
Thus fhall the fair exprefs her grief,

And terrors for her Lord:

Look down, ye gracious powers, from heaven,

Nor let my confort go,

Rude in the arts of war, to fight

This formidable foe,

Oh! not with half that dreadful

The royal favage flies,

rage

When, at the flightest touch, he springs,

And darts

upon his prize.

How

How fair, how comely are our wounds,

In our dear country's cause!

What fame attends the glorious fate,
That props our dying laws!

For death's cold hand arrests the fears
That haunt the coward's mind;
Swift the pursues the flying wretch,
And wounds him from behind.

Bravely regardless of difgrace,
Bold virtue ftands alone,

With pure unfully'd glory shines,
And honours ftill her own.

From the dark grave, and filent duft,
She bids her fons arise,
And to the radiant train unfolds

The portals of the skies.

Now, with triumphant wings, fhe foars,

Above the realms of day,

Spurns the dull earth, and groveling crowd,

And towers th' ethereal way.

With her has filence a reward,
Within the blefs'd abodes,
That holy filence which conceals

The fecrets of the Gods.

But with a wretch I would not live,

By facrilege prophan'd,

Nor lodge beneath cne roof, nor launch

One veffel from the land;

For