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The swain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ;
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
CREATOR Spirit, by whose aid
The world's foundations first were laid,
Come, visit ev'ry pious mind;
Come, pour thy joys on human kind;
From sin and sorrow set us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.
O Source of uncreated light,
The Father's promis’d Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heav'nly love inspire;
Come, and thy sacred unction bring,
To sanctify us while we sing.
Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Rich in thy sevenfold energy!
Thou strength of His almighty hand,
Whose pow'r does heav'n and earth command.
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crown’st Thy gift with eloquence,
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, О inflame and fire our hearts !
Our frailties help, our vice control,
Submit the senses to the soul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thine hand, and hold them down.
Chase from our minds the infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, lest our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.
Make.us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe;
Give us Thyself, that we may see
The Father and the Son by thee.
Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend the almighty Father's name;
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for lost man's redemption died ;
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee!
O why doe wretched men so much desire To draw their days unto th' utmost date,
And do not rather wish them soon expire,
Knowing the misery of their estate,
And thousand perils which them still awaite,
Tossing themselves like a boat amid the maine,
That every hour they knock at deathes gate ?
And he that happy seems and least in paine,
Yet is as nigh his end as he that most doth plaine.
The whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay : “Ah, see, who so faire thing dost faine to see,
In springing flowre the image of thy day; All see thy virgin rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peep forth with bashful modestie,
That fairer seems the less you see her way!
Lo, see, soon after, how more bold and free
Her bared bosom she doth broad display!
Lo, see, soon after, how she fades and falls away!
So passeth, in the passing of a day
Of mortal life, the leafe, the bud, the flowre."
Now I gain the mountain's brow,
What a landscape lies below!
No clouds, no vapours intervene;
But the gay, the open scene,
Does the face of nature show
In all the hues of heav'n's bow,
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the sight.
Old castles on the cliffs arise,
Proudly tow'ring in the skies ;
Rushing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence ascending fires ;
Half his beams Apollo sheds
On the yellow mountain-heads,
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,
And glitters on the broken rocks.
Below me trees unnumber'd rise,
Beautiful in various dyes ;
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beech, the sable yew,
The slender fir, that taper grows,
The sturdy oak, with broad-spread boughs;
And beyond, the purple grove,
Haunt of Phyllis, queen of love,
Gaudy as th’ op'ning dawn,
Lies along a level lawn;
On which a dark hill, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye :
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood;
His sides are cloth'd with flowing wood;
And ancient towers crown his brow,
That cast an awful look below;
Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keeps :
So both a safety from the wind
On mutual dependence find !
'Tis now the raven's bleak abode ;
"Tis now th’apartment of the toad;
And there the fox securely feeds;
And there the pois’nous adder breeds,
Conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds;
While, ever and anon, there fall
Huge heaps of hoary, moulder'd wall.
Yet time has seen—that lifts the low,
And level lays the lofty brow-
Has seen this broken pile complete,
Big with the vanity of state :
But transient is the smile of fate!
A little rule, a little sway,
A sunbeam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.
And see the rivers, how they run
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun!
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,
Wave succeeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep —
Like human life to endless sleep!
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought,
To instruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus she dresses green and
gay, To disperse our cares away.