Who dar'd the solar ray, is weak of wing,
And faints, and falls, and dies ;-while He supreme Stands steadfast in the centre of the storm.
Wherefore, ye objects terrible and great,
Ye thunders, earthquakes, and ye fire-fraught wombs
Of fell volcanos, whirlwinds, hurricanes,
And boiling billows, hail! in chorus join
To celebrate and magnify your Maker,
Who yet in works of a minuter mould
Is not less manifest, is not less mighty.
Survey the magnet's sympathetic love,
That woos the yielding needle; contemplate
Th' attractive amber's power, invisible
Ev'n to the mental eye; or when the blow
Sent from th' electric sphere assaults thy frame,
Shew me the hand that dealt it!-Baffled here
By his Omnipotence, Philosophy
Slowly her thoughts inadequate revolves,
And stands with all his circling wonders round her, Like heavy Saturn in th' etherial space
Begirt with an inexplicable ring.
If such the operations of his power,
Which at all seasons and in every place
(Rul'd by establish'd laws and current nature)
Arrest th' attention; who, oh who shall tell
His acts miraculous? when his own decrees
Repeals he, or suspends; when by the hand
Of Moses or of Joshua, or the mouths
Of his prophetic seers, such deeds he wrought,
Before th' astonish'd sun's all-seeing eye,
That faith was scarce a virtue. Need I sing
The fate of Pharaoh and his numerous band
Lost in the reflux of the watery walls,
That melted to their fluid state again?
Need I recount how Samson's warlike arm
With more than mortal nerves was strung, t'o'erthrow
Idolatrous Philistia? Shall I tell
How David triumph'd, and what Job sustain'd?
-But, supreme, unutterable mercy!
O love unequall'd, mystery immense,
Which angels long t' unfold! 'tis man's redemption
That crowns thy glory, and thy power confirms ;
Confirms the great, th' uncontroverted claim.
When from the Virgin's unpolluted womb
Shone forth the Sun of Righteousness reveal'd,
And on benighted reason pour'd the day;
"Let there be peace!" he said, and all was calm
Amongst the warring world-calm as the sea
When, "O be still, ye boisterous winds!" he cried,
And not a breath was blown, nor murmur heard.
His was a life of miracles and might,
And charity and love, ere yet he taste
The bitter draught of death, ere yet he rise
Victorious o'er the universal foe,
And death, and sin, and hell in triumph lead.
His by the right of conquest is mankind,
And in sweet servitude and golden bonds
Were tied to him for ever.-O how easy
Is his ungalling yoke, and all his burdens
"Tis ecstasy to bear! Him, blessed Shepherd!
His flocks shall follow thro' the maze of life,
And shades that tend to day-spring from on high;
And as the radiant roses, after fading,
In fuller foliage and more fragrant breath
Revive in smiling spring, so shall it fare
With those that love him-for sweet is their savor,
And all Eternity shall be their spring.
Then shall the gates and everlasting doors,
At which the King of Glory enters in,
Be to the saints unbarr'd: and there, where pleasure
Boasts an undying bloom, where dubious hope
Is certainty, and grief-attended love
Is freed from passion-there we'll celebrate,
With worthier numbers, Him who is, and was,
And, in immortal prowess King of kings,
Shall be the monarch of all worlds for ever.
HAIL, mildly pleasing Solitude,
Companion of the wise and good;
But from whose holy piercing eye,
The herd of fools and villains fly.
Oh! how I love with thee to walk,
And listen to thy whisper'd talk,
Which innocence and truth imparts,
And melts the most obdurate hearts.
A thousand shapes you wear with ease,
And still in every shape you please.
Now wrapt in some mysterious dream,
A lone philosopher you seem;
Now quick from hill to vale you fly,
And now you sweep the vaulted sky.
A shepherd next you haunt the plain,
And warble forth your oaten strain;
A lover now, with all the grace
Of that sweet passion in your face:
Then, calm'd to friendship, you assume
The gentle-looking Hartford's bloom,
As, with her Musidora, she
(Her Musidora fond of thee)
Amid the long withdrawing vale,
Awakes the rivall'd nightingale.
Thine is the balmy breath of morn,
Just as the dew-bent rose is born;
And while meridian fervors beat,
Thine is the woodland dumb retreat;
But chief, when evening scenes decay,
And the faint landscape swims away,
Thine is the doubtful soft decline,
And that best hour of musing thine.
Descending angels bless thy train,
The virtues of the sage and swain;
Plain innocence in white array'd,
Before thee lifts her fearless head:
Religion's beams around thee shine,
And cheer thy glooms with light divine:
About thee sports sweet liberty;
And wrapt Urania sings to thee.
Oh, let me pierce thy secret cell,
And in thy deep recesses dwell.
Perhaps from Norwood's oak-clad hill,
When meditation has her fill,
I just may cast my careless eyes
Where London's spiry turrets rise;
Think of its crimes, its cares, its pain,
Then shield me in the woods again.
ARKNESS, thou first great parent of us all,
Thou art our great original;
Since from thy universal womb
Does all thou shad'st below, thy numerous offspring
Thy wondrous birth is even to Time unknown,
Or, like Eternity, thou'dst none;
Whilst Light did its first being owe
Unto that awful shade it dares to rival now.
Say, in what distant region dost thou dwell,
To Reason inaccessible?
From form and duller matter free,
Thou soar'st above the reach of man's philosophy.
Involv'd in thee, we first receive our breath,
Thou art our refuge too in death:
Great Monarch of the grave and womb,
Where'er our souls shall go, to thee our bodies come
The silent globe is struck with awful fear,
When thy majestic shades appear:
Thou dost compose the air and sea,
And Earth a sabbath keeps, sacred to rest and thee.
In thy serener shades our ghosts delight,
And court the umbrage of the night;
In vaults and gloomy caves they stray,
But fly the morning beams, and sicken at the day.
Tho' solid bodies dare exclude the light,
Nor will the brightest ray admit;
No substance can thy force repel,
Thou reign'st in depths below, dost in the centre
The sparkling gems, and ore in mines below,
To thee their beauteous lustre owe;
Tho' form'd within the womb of night,
Bright as their sire they shine, with native rays of
When thou dost raise thy venerable head,
And art in genuine night array'd,
Thy negro beauties then delight;
Beauties like polish'd jet, with their own darkness
Thou dost thy smiles impartially bestow,
And know'st no difference here below:
All things appear the same by thee,
Tho' light distinction makes, thou giv'st equality.
Thou, Darkness, art the lover's kind retreat,
And dost the nuptial joys complete;
Thou dost inspire them with thy shade, [maid. Giv'st vigor to the youth, and warm'st the yielding Calm as the bless'd above the Anchorites dwell Within their peaceful gloomy cell;
Their minds with heavenly joys are fill'd; The pleasures Light deny, thy shades for ever yield.
In caves of night, the oracles of old
Did all their mysteries unfold:
Darkness did first Religion grace,
Tave terrors to the God, and reverence to the place.
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