Puslapio vaizdai

The fmiling infant in his hand fhall take

The crefted bafilisk and speckled snake, Pleas'd the green luftre of the fcales furvey, And with their forky tongue shall innocently play. Rife, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise! Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes! See a long race thy spacious courts adorn ; See future fons, and daughters yet unborn, In crowding ranks on ev'ry fide arise, Demanding life, impatient for the skies! See barb'rous nations at thy gates attend, Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend; See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, And heap'd with products of Sabæan fprings ! For thee Idume's fpicy forefts blow, And feeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. See heav'n its fparkling portals wide difplay, And break upon thee in a flood of day! No more the rising fun fhall gild the morn, Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her filver horn; But loft, diffolv'd in thy fuperior rays, One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze O'erflow thy courts: the light himself shall shine Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!

The feas fhall wafte, the fkies in smoke dr

Rocks fall to duft, and mountains ~

But fix'd his word, his favin

Thy realm for ever lafts



By the Same.

ATHER of all! in ev'ry age,
In ev'ry clime ador’¿,

By faint, by savage, and by fage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou great firft caufe, leaft underfood:
Who all my sense confin'd
To know but this, that thou art good,
And that myself am blind;

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Yet not to earth's contracted span

Thy goodness let me bound, Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round:

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Prefume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay :
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,

At aught thy wisdom has deny'd,
Or aught thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I fee;
That mercy I to others fhow,

That mercy fhow to me.

Mean tho' I am, not wholly fo,

Since quick'ned by thy breath;

O lead me wherefoe'er I go,

Thro' this day's life or death.

This day, be bread and peace my lot:

All elfe beneath the fun,

Thou know'ft if best bestow'd or not,
And let thy will be done.

To thee, whose temple is all space,

Whofe altar, earth, fea, fkies!

One chorus let all being raise !
All nature's incense rise !





IR'D nature's fweet reftorer, balmy fleep!

He, like the world, his ready vifit pays

Where fortune fmiles; the wretched he forfakes:
Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe,
And lights on lids unfully'd with a tear.

From fhort (as ufual) and disturb'd repofe,
I wake: how happy they, who wake no more!
The day too fhort for my diftrefs! and night,
Ev'n in the zenith of her dark domain,
Is fun-fhine, to the colour of my fate.
Night, fable goddess! from her ebon throne,
In rayless majesty, now ftretches forth
Her leaden fceptre o'er a flumb'ring world.
Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound!
Nor eye, nor lift'ning ear, an object finds;
Creation fleeps. "Tis, as the gen'ral pulfe
Of life ftood ftill, and nature made a pause;
An awful paufe! prophetic of her end.
And let her prophecy be foon fulfill'd;
Fate! drop the curtain; I can lose no more.

O Thou! whose word from folid darkness struck


That fpark the fun; ftrike wisdom from
My foul, which flies to thee, her trust, her treasure,
As mifers to their gold, while others rest.


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