Ye trees, that fill the rural scene; O praife the Ruler of the skics, And form'd a fpringing well. Praife him, ye floods, and feas profound, Ye whales, that ftir the boiling deep, Remote from human eye, Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name; And fill the vocal grove. Th' expected prey to seize; And bend your wearied knees. And gave it pow'r to move; And bend attentive down; Before his altars kneel; Ye fpirits of the just and good, To heavenly manfions foar; 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 (Sad proof of fin's tranfmiffive pow'r !), A childhood yet my thoughts confess, And where, or what, its cure. O let thy fear within me dwell, Thy love my footsteps guide; And, oh! by error's force fubdued, Unafk'd, what good thou knoweft grant; Oh how fhall I, with heart prepar'd, Thofe terrors learn to meet? The gathering ftorms around me roar, Each nerve at once unftrung, When fudden to mine ear What tho' the fwelling furge thou fee 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: Then why thus heavy, O my foul! Thy thoughts with vain impatience roll 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; for thee? §102. A Funeral Hymn. MALLET. YE midnight thades, o'er nature spread ! Dumb filence of the dreary hour! Through all this deep furrounding gloom, The tear untaught, Those meeteft mourners at a tomb. Each mould'ring bone, 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; O fource of uncreated light, $103. Veni Creator Spiritus, paraphrafed. DRYDEN. CREATOR Spirit, by whofe aid The world's foundations firft were laid, Plenteous of grace, defcend from high, Who doft the gift of tongues difpenfe, Make us eternal truths receive, Immortal honour, endlefs fame, $104. A Night Piece. Mifs CARTER. If, by the day's illufive fcenes mifled, Oft, when thy better Spirit's guardian care 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. No longer wildly hurried through Thy philofophic dream. Thro' yon dark grove of mournful yews By thy direction led: And mingle with the dead. My future peaceful bed; Here fhall my weary eyes be clos'd, In death's refreshing fhade, Ye pale inhabitants of night, In folemn pomp afcend : 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, Before the mental eye. The dazzling colours, falfely bright, With fuperficial state: Can wild ambition's tyrant pow'r, That shake the parting foul? Thefe awful relics preach. Thy penetrating beams difperfe The pale terrific king. When, funk by guilt in fad despair, In death's foft flumber lull'd to rest, Of active life and blifs. Thro' Nature's ever-varying scene, The one eternal end of Heaven With lake beneficent effe&t O'er taming æther glows, As when it tunes the linnet's voice, By reafon taught to fcorn those fears Le no fantaftic terrors break Thy life may all the tend'reft care Temw'd mayft thou the final ftorm 0: jarring worlds furvey, The ufhers in the glad ferene 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 |