Ye trees, that fill the rural scene;
Ye flow's, that o'er th' enamell'd green
In native beauty reign;

O praife the Ruler of the skics,
Whoft hand the genial fap fupplies,
And clothes the fmiling plain.
Ye fecret fprings, ye gentle rills,
That murm'ring rife among the hills,
Or fill the humble vale;
Praise him, at whofe Almighty nod
The rugged rock diffolving flow'd,

And form'd a fpringing well.

Praife him, ye floods, and feas profound,
Whole waves the fpacious earth furround,
And roll from fhore to fhore;
Aw'd by his voice, ye feas, fubfide;
Ye foods, within your channels glide,
And tremble and adore.

Ye whales, that ftir the boiling deep,
Or in its dark receffes fleep,

Remote from human eye,
Praife him by whom ye all are fed;
Praise him, without whose heavenly aid
Ye languish, faint, and die.

Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name;
Begin, and with th' important theme
Your artlefs lays improve;
Wake with your fongs the rifing day,
Let mufic found on ev'ry spray,

And fill the vocal grove.
Praise him, ye beafts, that nightly roam
Amid the folitary gloom,

Th' expected prey to seize;
Ye flaves of the laborious plough,
Your ftubborn necks fubmiffive bow,

And bend your wearied knees.
Ye fons of men, his praife difplay,
Who ftampt his image on your clay,

And gave it pow'r to move;
Ye that in Judah's confines dwell,
From age to age fucceffive tell
The wonders of his love.
Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong,
Till angels liften to the song,

And bend attentive down;
Let wonder feize the heavenly train,
Pleas'd while they hear a mortal strain
So fweet, fo like their own.
And you your thankful voices join,
That oft at Salem's facred fhrine

Before his altars kneel;
Where thron'd in majefty he dwells,
And from the myftic cloud reveals
The dictates of his will.

Ye fpirits of the just and good,
That, eager for the blefs'd abode,

To heavenly manfions foar;
O let your fongs his praise display,
Till heaven itfelf fhall melt away,
And time fhall be no more!
Praife him, ye meek and humble train,
Ye faints, whom his decrees ordain

The boundless blifs to fhare; O praife him, till ye take your way To regions of eternal day,

And reign for ever there.

Let us, who now impaffive stand, Aw'd by the tyrant's ftern command, Amid the fiery blaze;

While thus we triumph in the flame, Rife, and our Maker's love proclaim, In hymns of endless praise.

$99. The Ignorance of Man. MERRICK. BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd With hunger, thirst, and pain; That afks to have the wants reliev'd It knows not to complain. Aloud the fpeechlefs fuppliant cries,. And utters, as it can,

The woes that in its bofom rife,

And speak its nature-man.

That infant, whose advancing hour
Life's various forrows try

(Sad proof of fin's tranfmiffive pow'r !),
That infant, Lord, am I.

A childhood yet my thoughts confess,
Though long in years mature;
Unknowing whence I feel diftrefs,

And where, or what, its cure.
Author of good! to thee I turn:
Thy ever-wakeful eye
Alone can all my wants difcern;
Thy hand alone fupply.

O let thy fear within me dwell,

Thy love my footsteps guide;
That love fhall vainer loves expel;
That fear all fears befide.

And, oh! by error's force fubdued,
Since oft my ftubborn will
Prepoft'rous fhuns the latent good,
And grafps the fpecious ill;
Not to my wish, but to my want,
Do thou thy gifts apply:

Unafk'd, what good thou knoweft grant;
What ill, tho' afk'd, deny.

Oh how fhall I, with heart prepar'd,

Thofe terrors learn to meet?
How from the thoufand fnares to guard
My unexperienc'd feet ?
As thus I mus'd, oppreffive fleep
Soft o'er my temples drew
Oblivion's veil.-The wat'ry deep,
An obje& ftrange and new,
Before me rofe: on the wide fhore
Obfervant as I ftood,

The gathering ftorms around me roar,
And heave the boiling flood.
Near and more near the billows rife ;
E'en now my steps they lave;
And death to my affrighted eyes
Approach'd in ev'ry wave.
What hope, or whither to retreat!

Each nerve at once unftrung,
Chill fear had fetter'd faft my feet,
And chain'd my speechlefs tongue.
I feel my heart within me die;

When fudden to mine ear
A voice, defcending from on high,
Reprov'd my erring fear :

What tho' the fwelling furge thou fee
Impatient to devour;

Reft, mortal, reft on God's decree,

And thankful own his pow'r. "Know, when he bade the deep appear,

"Thus far," th' Almighty faid, "Thus far, nor faither, rage; and here "Let thy proud waves be stay'd," I heard; and, lo! at once controul'd, The waves, in wild retreat, Back on themselves reluctant roll'd, And murmuring left my feet.

Deeps to affembling deeps in vain

Once more the fignal gave:
The fhores the rufhing weight fuftain,
And check th' ufurping wave.
Convinc'd, in Nature's volume wise,
The imag'd truth I read ;
Ard fudden from my waking eyes
Th' inftructive vifion fled.

Then why thus heavy, O my foul!
Say why, diftruftful still,

Thy thoughts with vain impatience roll
O'er fcenes of future ill?

Let faith fupprefs each rifing fear,

Each anxious doubt exclude; Thy Maker's will has plac'd thee here, Á Maker wife and good!

He to thy ev'ry trial knows

Its just reftraint to give;

• Attentive to behold thy woes, And faithful to relieve.

Tho' griefs unnumber'd throng thee r Still in thy God confide, 'Whofe finger marks the feas their bou And curbs the headlong tide.'

N°

§ 101. Chrift's Paffion: from a Greek O MASTER'S, formerly of New College. more of earthly subjects sing; To heaven, my mufe, afpire; To raife the fong, charge ev'ry string, And ftrike the living lyre.

Begin, in lofty numbers show Th' Eternal King's unfathom'd love, Who reigns the Sov'reign God above, And fuffers on the cross below. Prodigious pile of wonders! rais'd too h For the dim ken of frail mortality. What numbers fhall I bring along? From whence fhall I begin the fong? The mighty mystery I'll fing, infpir'd Beyond the reach of human wifdom wrou Beyond the compass of an angel's though How by the rage of man his God expir'd I'll make the tracklefs depths of mercy k How to redeem his foe God render'd up h I'll raife my voice to tell mankind

The victor's conqueft o'er his doom; How in the grave he lay confin'd,

To feal more fure the rav'nous tomb. Three days, th' infernal empire to fubduc He pafs'd triumphant through the coafts o With his own dart the tyrant Death he fl And led Hell captive through her realms A mingled found from Calvary I hear, And the loud tumult thickens on my ear, The fhouts of murd'rers that infult the fl The voice of torment, and the fhricks of I caft my eyes with horror up To the curft mountain's guilty top; See there! whom hanging in the midft I v Ah! how unlike the other two! I fee him high above his foes, And gently bending from the wood His head in pity down to those, Whofe guilt confpires to fhed his blo His wide-extended arms I fee Transfix'd with nails, and faften'd to th Man, fenfelefs man! canft thou look on Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own The rage of all thy grief exert, Rend thy garments and thy heart: Beat thy breaft, and grovel low, Beneath the burden of thy woe; Bleed through thy bowels, tear thy hair Breathe gales of fighs, and weep a flood of Behold thy King, with purple cover'd r

Not in the Tyrian tinctures dyed, Nor dipt in poifon of Sidonian pride; [w But in his own rich blood that ftreams from

Doft thou not fee the thorny circle red? The guilty wreath that blushes round his h And with what rage the bloody fcourge app Curls round his limbs, and ploughs into his

At fuch a fight let all thy anguifh rife;
Break up, break up the fountains of thy eyes,
Here bid thy tears in gufhing torrents flow,
Indulge thy grief, and give a loofe to woe.
Weep from thy foul, till earth be drown'd;
Weep, till thy forrows dreach the ground.
Carft thou, ungrateful man! his torment fee,
Nor drop a tear for him, who pours his blood

for thee?

§102. A Funeral Hymn. MALLET. YE midnight thades, o'er nature spread !

Dumb filence of the dreary hour!
In honour of th'approaching dead,
Around your awful terrors pour.
Yes, pour around,
On this pale ground,

Through all this deep furrounding gloom,
The fober thought,

The tear untaught,

Those meeteft mourners at a tomb.
Lo' as the furplic'd train drew near
To this laft manfion of mankind,
The flow fad bell, the fable bier,
In holy mufings wrap the mind!
And while their beam,
With trembling ftream,
Attending tapers faintly dart;

Each mould'ring bone,
Each fculptur'd stone,
Strikes mute inftruction to the heart!
Now let the facred organ blow,
With folemn paufe, and founding flow;
Now let the voice due measure keep,
In ftrains that figh, and words that weep;
Till all the vocal current blended roll,
Not to deprefs, but lift the foaring foul.

To lift it in the Maker's praife,

Who first inform'd our frame with breath; And, after fome few ftormy days, Now, gracious, gives us o'er to Death. No King of Fears

In him appears,

Who fhuts the fcene of human woes : Beneath his fhade

Come vifit ev'ry pious mind;
Come pour thy joys on human kind;
From in and forrow fet us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.

O fource of uncreated light,
The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love infpire;
Come, and thy facred unction bring
To fanclify us, while we fing.

$103. Veni Creator Spiritus, paraphrafed. DRYDEN.

CREATOR Spirit, by whofe aid

The world's foundations firft were laid,

Plenteous of grace, defcend from high,
Rich in thy fevenfold energy!
Thou ftrength of his Almighty hand,
Whofe pow'r does heaven and earth command.
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,

Who doft the gift of tongues difpenfe,
And crown'ft thy gift with cloquence !
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice controul,
Submit the fenfes to the foul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
Chafe from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, beftow
And, left our feet should step aftray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practife all that we believe:
Give us thyfelf, that we may fee
The Father, and the Son, by thee.

Immortal honour, endlefs fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name :
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for loft man's redeinption died;
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

$104. A Night Piece. Mifs CARTER.
WHILE night in folemn fhade invests the pole,
And calm reflection foothes the penfive foul,
While reafon undisturb'd afferts her fway,
And life's deceitful colours fade away;
To thee! all-confcious Prefence! I devote
This peaceful interval of fober thought:
Here all my better faculties confine;
And be this hour of facred filence thine!

If, by the day's illufive fcenes mifled,
My erring foul from virtue's path has stray'd;
Snar'd by example, or by paffion warm'd,
Some falfe delight my giddy fenfe has charm'd;
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice peprové,
And
my beft hopes are center'd in thy love.
Depriv'd of this, can life one joy afford?
Its utmost boast a vain unmeaning word.
But, ah! how oft my lawlefs paffions rove,
And break thofe awful precepts I approve 1
Purfue the fatal impulfe I abhor,
And violate the virtue I adore!

Oft, when thy better Spirit's guardian care
Warn'd my fond foul to fhun the tempting fnare,
My ftubborn will his gentle aid reprefs'd,
And check'd the rifing goodnefs in my breaft;
Mad with vain hopes, or urg'd by falfe defires,
Still'd his foft voice, and quench'd his facred fires.
With

F 2

With grief opprefs'd, and proftrate in the duft, Shouldst thou condemn, I own thy fentence juft. But, oh thy fofter titles let me claim, And plead my caufe by Mercy's gentle name. Mercy that wipes the penitential tear, And diffipates the horrors of defpair; From righteous juftice fteals the vengeful hour, Softens the dreadful attribute of pow`r, Difarms the wrath of an offended God, And feals my pardon in a Saviour's blood! All-powerful Grace, exert thy gentle sway, And teach my rebel paffions to obey; Left lurking Folly, with infidious art, Regain my volatile inconftant heart! Shall every high refolve Devotion frames Be only lifelets founds and fpecious names? Oh rather, while thy hopes and fears controul, In this ftill hour, each motion of my foul, Secure its fafety by a fudden doom, And be the foft retreat of fleep my tomb! Calm let me flumber in that dark repofe, Till the laft morn its orient beam difclofe: Then, when the great archangel's potent found Shall echo thro' creation's ample round, Wak'd from the fleep of death, with joy furvey The opening fplendours of eternal day.

$105. Ode to Melancholy. CARTER.
COME, Melancholy! filent pow'r,
Companion of my lonely hour,
To fober thought confin'd!
Thou fweetly fad ideal gueft,
In all thy foothing charms confefs'd,
Indulge my penfive mind.

No longer wildly hurried through
The tides of mirth that ebb and flow
In folly's noify stream,
Jom the bufy crowd retire,
To court the objects that infpire

Thy philofophic dream.

Thro' yon dark grove of mournful yews
With folitary fteps I mufe,

By thy direction led:
Here, cold to pleafure's tempting forms,
Confociate with my fifter worms,

And mingle with the dead.
Ye midnight horrors, awful gloom!
Ye filent regions of the tomb,

My future peaceful bed;

Here fhall my weary eyes be clos'd,
And ev'ry forrow lic repos'd

In death's refreshing fhade,

Ye pale inhabitants of night,
Before my intellectual fight

In folemn pomp afcend :
tell how trifling now appears
The train of idle hopes and fears,

That varying life attend!

Ye faithlefs idols of our fenfe,

Here own how vain your fond pretence Ye empty names of joy !

Your tranfient forms like shadows pass,
Frail offspring of the magic glafs,

Before the mental eye.

The dazzling colours, falfely bright,
Attract the gazing vulgar fight

With fuperficial state:
Thro' reafon's clearer optics view'd,
How ftripp'd of all its pomp, how rude,
Appears the painted cheat!

Can wild ambition's tyrant pow'r,
Or ill-got wealth's fuperfluous store,
The dread of death controul?
Can pleafure's more bewitching charms
Avert or foothe the dire alarms

That shake the parting foul?
Religion! ere the hand of Fate
Shall make reflection plead too late,
My erring fenfes teach,
Amidst the flatt ring hopes of youth,
To meditate the folemn truth

Thefe awful relics preach.

Thy penetrating beams difperfe
The mift of error, whence our fears
Derive their fatal fpring:
'Tis thine the trembling heart to warm,
And foften to an angel form

The pale terrific king.

When, funk by guilt in fad despair,
Repentance breathes her humble pray'r,
And owns thy threat'nings juft,
Thy voice the fhudd'ring fuppliant cheers
With mercy calms her torturing fears,
And lifts her from the duft.
Sublim'd by thee, the foul afpires
Beyond the range of low defires,
In nobler views elate:
Unmov'd her deftin'd change furveys,
And, arm'd by faith, intrepid pays
The univerfal debt.

In death's foft flumber lull'd to rest,
She fleeps, by fmiling visions bleft,
That gently whisper peace:
Till the laft morn's fair op'ning ray
Unfolds the bright eternal day

Of active life and blifs.

Thro' Nature's ever-varying scene,
By different ways purfued,

The one eternal end of Heaven
Is waerial good.

With lake beneficent effe&t

O'er taming æther glows,

As when it tunes the linnet's voice,
Orudhes in the rofe.

By reafon taught to fcorn those fears
That vulgar minds moleft,

Le no fantaftic terrors break
My dear Narciffa's reft.

Thy life may all the tend'reft care
Of Providence defend;
And delegated angels round
Tair guardian wings extend!
Wha thro' creation's vast expanfe
The laft dread thunders roll,
l'acne the concord of the spheres,
And thake the rifing foul;

Temw'd mayft thou the final ftorm 0: jarring worlds furvey,

The ufhers in the glad ferene
Of everlafting day!

Of death beats flow! heard ye the note profound? It 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, 50 oft have tripp'd in her fantastic train,

With hearts as gay, and faces half as fair: For the was fair beyond your brightest 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 bluth of quick surprise, How fweetly mutable, how brightly wild, The liquid luftre darted from her eyes! Fach look, each motion, wak'd a new-born grace, That o'er her form its tranfient glory caft: Some lovelier wonder foon ufurp'd the place, Chas'd by a charm ftill lovelier than the laft. That bell again! It tells us what the is;

On what the was, no more the ftrain prolong: Luxuriant fancy, paufe! an hour like this-> Demands the tribute of a ferious fong. Maria claims it from that fable bier, Where cold and wan the flumb'rerrefts her head; Is ftill fmall whispers 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 Speaks, and Nature will be heard.

Yes; ye fhall hear, and tremble as ye hear, While, high with health, your hearts exulting E'en in the midft of pleafure's mad career, [leap; The mental monitor shall wake and weep! For fay, than Coventry's propitious ftar,

What brighter planet on your births arofe? Or gave of fortune's gifts an ampler fhare, In life to lavith, or by death to lofe? Early to lofe! While, borne on bufy wing, Ye fip the nectar of each varying bloom; Nor fear, while bafking in the beams of fpring, The wint'ry ftorm that fweeps you to the tomb; Think of her fate! revere the heavenly hand

That led her hence, tho' foon, by steps so 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 she lov'd fo well.

Say, are ye fure his mercy fhall extend

To you fo long a span? Alas, ye figh! [friend, Make then, while yet ye may, your God your And learn with equal eafe 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 fimiles thould No-she would warm you with feraphic fire, Heirs as ye are of heaven's eternal day; Would bid you boldly to that heaven afpire,

Not fink and flumber in your cells of clay. Know, ye were form'd to range yon azure field, In yon ethereal founts of blifs to lave: Force 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,

Your hopes, your fears, in doubt, in dulnefs fteep; Go foothe your fouls, in ficknefs, grief, or pain, With the fad folace of eternal fleep!

Yet will I praife you, triflers as ye are,

More than thofe preachers of your fav'rite creed, Who proudly fwell the brazen throat of war, Who form the phalanx, bid the battle bleed, Nor with for more; who conquer but to 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: On pleasure's glitt'ring ftream ye gaily fteer

Your little courfe to cold oblivion's fhore; They dare the ftorm, and thro' th' inclement year Stem the rough furge, and brave the torrent's roar. Is it for glory? That juft Fate denies :

Long muft the warrior moulder in his shroud, Ere from her trump the heaven-breath'd accents That lift the hero from the fighting crowd! rife, Is it his grafp of empire to extend ?

To curb the fury of infulting foes? Ambition, ceafe! the idle conteft end: 'Tis but a kingdom thou canst win or lofe.

F 3

And