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 afpires,
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 thousands yet,
With order join to fill the train of state,
Souls tun'd for praifing to the temple bring,
And thus amidst the sacred 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,
NOW crowds 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 ftorms 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 stronger force, to make thee rife Where beauteous Hannah meets the searching 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, filletted with filver, rear, To close the curtains in an outward square, But those 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 shining in the midst of tears.
Her heart in bitterness of grief fhe 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 by thee;
If in mine offspring 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 receffes of her inmost foul,
Through moving lips her ftill devotion ftole:
As filent waters glide through parted trees,
Whose branches tremble with a rising 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 severe,
While yet the 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,
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,
And makes her alter'd eyes irradiate roll,
With joy that dawns in thought upon the foul.
Now let the town, and tent, and court remain,
And leap the time till Hannah comes again.
As painted profpects skip along the green,
From hills to mountains eminently feen,
And leave their intervals that fink below,
In deep retreat, and unexpress'd to show.
Behold! fhe comes (but not as once she came, To grieve, to figh, and teach her eyes to stream); Content adorns her with a lively face,
An open look, and smiling kind of grace;
Her little Samuel in her arms fhe bears,
The wish of long defire, and child of prayers;
And as the facrifice fhe brought begun,
To reverend Eli she presents her fon.
Here, cries the mother, here my Lord may fee
The woman come, who pray'd in grief by thee:
The child I fued for, God in bounty gave;
And what he granted, let him now receive.
But fill the votary feels her temper move,
With all the tender violence of love,
That still enjoys the gift, and inly burns
To fearch for larger, or for more returns.
Then, fill'd with bleffings which allure to praise,
And rais'd by joy to foul-enchanting lays,
Thus thanks the Lord, beneficently kind,
In fweet effufions of the grateful mind :
My lifting heart, with more than common heat,
Sends up its thanks to God on every beat,
My glory, rais'd above the reach of scorn,
To God exalts its highly-planted horn;
My mouth enlarg'd, mine enemies defies,
And finds in God's falvation full replies.
Oh, bright in holy beauty's power divine,
There's none whose glory can compare with thine!
None share thine honours, nay, there's none befide,
No rock on which thy creatures can confide.
Ye proud in fpirits, who your gift adore,
Unlearn the faults, and speak with pride no more;
No more your words in arrogance be shown,
Nor call the works of Providence your own,
Since he that rules us infinitely knows,
And, as he wills, his acts of power dispose.
The ftrong, whose finewy forces arch'd the bow, Have seen it shatter'd by the conquering foe; The Weak have felt their nerves more firmly brace, And new-fprung vigour in the limbs encrease. The Full, whom vary'd tastes of plenty fed, Have let their labour out to gain their bread. The Poor, that languish'd in a starving state, Content and full, have ceas'd to beg their meat. The Barren Womb, no longer barren now, (Oh, be my thanks accepted with my vow!) In pleasure wonders at a mother's pain, And fees her offspring, and conceives again; While she that glory'd in her numerous heirs, Now broke by feeblenefs, no longer bears.
Such turns their rifing from the Lord derive, The Lord that kills, the Lord that makes alive;
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