See His red arm unfheaths the shining spear!
The glitt'ring blade hangs naked in the air!
It rends the rock !-from all its gushing veins
A fwelling deluge burfts, and pours along the plains.
Hark, He commands !-obedient to his will,
The pale Moon quakes, th' arrested Sun ftands * ftill!
Earth hears and shakes, devouring tempefts rise,
Thick clouds and whirlwinds blacken all the skies;
Tremble the poles,-in wild confusion thrown
Sink the steep Hills,-th'eternal Mountains groan.

WHAT dire portents my wond'ring foul affright!
What scenes of terror fwim before my fight!
See mighty Babylon (fo heav'n ordains)

The scourge of God! ftalks wildly o'er our plains!
Sweeps like fome swelling flood our hosts away,
Or fwift as lightning fprings, and grafps the prey.

YET fear not, Ifrael, at his dreadful ire; Thou fav'rite child of heav'n's exalted Sire! What though pale Rage, in her triumphant car, Drives o'er thy fields, and founds the blaft of war!

The Author is fenfible that there may appear fome impropriety in this fentiment, as it is feemingly repugnant to the fyftem of COPERNICUs. He chofe however to prefer this meaning of the words

What

to any other, as it is exa&ly conformable to the original, and as it may be fuppofed to refer only to the motion of the fun round his own axis.

What though thy warriors load the purple plain!
Though bellowing Slaughter ftrides o'er heaps of flain!
Though Horror numbs thy fenfe, and freezes ev'ry vein !
'Tis thus thy God makes boafted might fubfide,
Thus fpurns His foes, and bends the brow of pride:
Yet know, those wounds avenging Justice gave,
Stern Ire impell'd, but Mercy meant to fave.
Triumphant Mercy! that exalts the low,

Sighs o'er th' opprefs'd, and melts at human woe!
Wipes ev'ry tear, bids pining Anguish cease;

And pours o'er all the healing balm of

peace.

BUT fee once more th' intrepid Victor near;
The shouts of battle thunder on my ear!
Mark, mark yon yielding throng!-'tis Israel flies !
Groans, noife, despair, and tumult rend the skies.
I faint o'erpow'r'd beneath the whelming flood,
Wild numbing Grief congeals my creeping blood;
I fee, I fhudder at th' approaching train!
My lips too quiver with convulfive pain :
Fix'd dumb with horror at this dreadful blow,
I ftand,-a fpeechlefs monument of woe!

YET, Mighty God!-be all my pow'rs refign'd! And thine each nobler hope that warms the mind. Then though no more to crown the peasant's toil, The bleeding olive ftream with facred oil;

VOL. I.

M

Though

Though figs no more their leafy tendrils join ;
Though fcorching lightning blaft the budding vine
Though the rough fteed lie panting on the plain,
Nor wave th' autumnal fields with golden grain:
Yet fhall my foul thy wond'rous grace proclaim;
Yet this fond heart fhall triumph in thy name.
When o'er the earth Thou wav'ft th' avenging rod;
When Nature trembles at an angry God;

When the bold breaft, with terror not its own,
Shakes at thy voice, and withers at thy frown';
Then by no storms difmay'd, no fears depreft,
In Thee my foul fhall find perpetual rest:
O'er me fecure thy hov'ring wings shall spread,
And Sleep's mild opiate blefs my peaceful bed *.

*The Reader will eafily obferve that this chapter hath been paraphrafed with fome liberty. The beauties of it are thick fown. The expreffion is uncommonly fublime, the figures bold, the painting rích, and the defcription animated. The Author hath enlarged on fome verfes, tranfpofed or even omitted others, and given

fuch a turn to the reft, as may convey moft perfpicuously the meaning of the Prophet. Upon the whole, he hath endeavoured to paint fome ftriking features; but where he found it impoffible in any measure to equal, he had not the temerity of attempting to imitate.

Το

To a FRIEND in the COUNTRY*.

WHIL

HILE you (where paffion, noise, nor cares affail,)
Waste the calm hour in Life's fequefter'd vale,

Bleft with each object that confpires to please,

Books, friends, retirement, freedom, health, and cafe;
Me vainly pining, Fate's rough hand removes
Far from deep shades, and confecrated groves;

To count long days that roll fucceffive o'er,

Launch'd far on deeps where darkness wraps the fhore;
Forced in tumultuous fcenes to bear a part,

What numbs the thought, or tears the feeling heart;
Yet Fancy rapt where her fair Eden blows,
Counts the loved haunt of filence and repofe.

SHE, oft' attendant on thy happier days,
Burfts the dim fhade, or wood's involving maze;
Beholds thee rapt to Ilion's towery height,
Or whirl'd with Hector thro' the ranks of fight;
Or borne where groves o'erhang the central pile,
Stretch'd in the depth of Circe's lonely ifle;

* The greater part of this Poem der this intimation might have been was wrote at a very early period of fpared.

life. Perhaps to the difcerning rea

M 2

Thrill'd

Thrill'd as thou hearft the patient man complain, The waste of æther eyed, or pathless main, While, each dear object of his care furvey'd, Loved scenes, but wrapt in ever-during fhade, Still to the murmuring deeps that rowl below, Swells the long plaint of foul-fubduing woe.

PERHAPS You liften to fome gentler strain That paints the gliding ftream, or flowery plain; Or fee'ft Corneille the strength of Genius prove, Or heart on Petrarch's lute the plaint of love. Does milder Fenelon his aid impart

To charm the fancy, while he mends the heart? Unhappy Fenelon! condemn'd to fpend

Thy Youth in cares, thine age without a friend;
Forced at a rival's hated fhrine to bow,

To tear the lawre! wreath that graced thy brow;
Thy worth forgot, thy labours unrepaid,
Thy name dishonour'd, and thy Patron dead;
T'obey the mandate of imperious Rome,
And kifs the fcornful hand that feal'd thy doom.
Yet then ferene triumphant virtue stood :
Thy Genius blazed refulgent thro' the cloud;
The mind that ruled a court, adorn'd retreat;
And Cambray's bowers became the Muse's feat.