THE 3d DAY OF THE 2d WEEK; ABRAHAM. PART THE FIRST; THE VOCATION: TH' iron-footed coursers, lusty, fresh, and light, With loud proud neighings for the combat call. While the thick arrows fhow'r on either fide, Go, pay to Pluto, Prince of Acheron, thy habit and thy tongue, fo Thine arms, and more thy courage, yet so young, Shew that in Sodom's wanton walls accurft Thou wert not born, nor in Gomorrha nurst. Sleep flowly harness'd his dull bears anon; The wolf in woods lies down, the ox i' th' mead, Men Men ftretch their limbs, The nightingale, perch'd on the tender spring Th' yeugh moves no more, the afp doth cease to shake, Pines bow their heads, and feem fome reft to take. Methinks already on our glift'ring crefts Youth paints his cheek with rofe' and lilies' dies, his glift'ring fhield, Whose glorious fplendor darts a dreadful light. Death and Despair, Horror and Fury, fight Melchifedec, God's facred minifter, And King of Salem, comes to greet him there, "Bleft be the Lord, that with his hand doth roll The radiant orbs that turn about the pole ! Who Who rules the actions of all human kind 1 So from the fea to the Euphratean source, To the dry defert's fandy horror hied,—— Hence, hence the high and mighty Prince fhall spring, Sin's, Death's, and Hell's eternal taming King; The facred founder of man's fov'reign bliss, A fimple Spirit, the glitt'ring child of light, Where folemn nuptials of the LAMB are held; Where angels bright, and souls that have excell'd, All clad in white fing th' Epithalamy, Caroufing nectar of eternity. PART PART THE SECOND; THE FATHERS. - the voice which made all things, Which scept'reth fhepherds, or uncrowneth Kings. So Abraham, at these sharp-founding words, Th' eternal pillar of all verity,— Sometimes by his eternal self he swears, The fable night diflodg'd, O thou O thou Ethereal palace Chryftalline! Shut for ever all thy gates up Againft my foul! of grace The glorious fun of righteousness Who fhall the mountains bruize with iron mace, the thund'ring voice of God, PART THE THIRD; THE LAW, that fteepest mount, Whose snowy shoulders with their ftony pride Eternally do Spain from France divide. |