A radiant glory speaks him all divine,
And in the child the beams of Godhead shine!
But now, alas! far other views disclose
The blackest comprehensive scene of woes.
See where man's voluntary sacrifice
Bows his meek head, and God Eternal dies!
Fix'd to the cross, his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy streams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life-exhausting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the stubborn soul!
As all death's tortures, with fevere delay,
Exult and riot in the noblest prey!
And can'st thou, stupid man, those sorrows fee,
Nor share the anguish which he bears for thee?
Thy fin, for which his facred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn;
Can'st thou ?-while Nature smarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the sympathetick ground !
Lo! the black sun, his chariot backward driven,
Blots out the day, and perishes from Heaven :
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part.
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart;
The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign,
And the cold clay-clad dead start into life again.
And thou, O tomb, once more shalt wide display
Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey :
Thou, groaning earth, shalt heave, abforpt in flame,
As the last pangs convulse thy labouring frame;
When the same God unshrouded thou shalt see,
Wrapt in full blaze of power and majesty,
Ride on the clouds; whilst, as his chariot flies,
The bright effusion streams thro' all the skies.
Then shall the proud dissolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow :
The molten deluge round the globe shall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.
Then shall the splendours of th' enliven'd glass
Şink undistinguisn'd in the burning mass.
And O! till earth and feas, and heaven decay,
Ne'er may that fair creation fade away;
May winds and storms those beauteous colours spare,
Still may they bloom, as permanent as fair;
All the vain rage of wasting time repel,
And his tribunal fee, whose cross they paint so well!
HAT! thơ' thou com'st in sable mantle clad, Yet, Winter! art thou welcome to my eye; Thee here I hail, tho' terrors round thee wait, And winds tempestuous howl along the sky.
But shall I then so soon forget the days,
When Ceres led me thro' her wheaten mines; When Autumn pluck'd me, with his tawny hand, Empurpled clusters from ambrosial vines !
So foon forget, when up the yielding pole
I saw ascend the filver-bearded hop;
When Summer, waving high her crown of hay,
Pour'd o'er the mead her odorif'rous crop !
I must forget them; and thee too, O Spring!
Thơ' many a chaplet thou hast weav'd for me:
For now, prepar'd to quit th' enchanting scene,
Gold, weeping Winter! I come all to thee.
Hail to thy rolling clouds, and rapid storms!
Tho' they deform fair Nature's lovely face :
Hail to thy winds, that sweep along the earth!
Tho' trees they root up from their solid base.
How ficklied over is the face of things!
Where is the spice-kiss of the southern gale! Where the wild rose, that smil'd upon the thorn, The mountain flow'r, and lily of the vale!
How gloomy 'tis to cast the eye around,
And view the trees disrob'd of ev'ry leaf;
The velvet path grown rough with clotting show'rs,
And ev'ry field depriv'd of ev'ry sheaf!
How far more gloomy, o'er the rain-beat heath,
Alone to travel in the dead of night!
No twinkling star to gild the arch of heav'n,
No moon to lend her temporary light:
To see the lightning spread it's ample sheet,
And view the wild waste thro' its liquid fire,
To hear the thunder rend the troubled air,
As Time itself and Nature would expire.
And yet, O Winter! has thy poet seen
Thy face as fmooth, and placid as the Spring;
Has felt, with comfort felt the beam of heav'n,
And heard thy vallies and thy woodlands ring;
What time the Sun with burnish'd locks arose,
The long-loft charms of Nature to renew,
When pearls of ice bedeck'd the grassy turf,
And tree-tops floated in the filver-dew.
Father of heav'n and earth! this change is thine :
By thee the seasons in gradation roll;
Thou great Omniscient Ruler of the world!
Thou Alpha and Omega of the whole!
Here humbly bow we down our heads to thee;
'Tis ours the voice of gratitude to raise :
Thine to diffuse thy blessings o'er the land;
Thine to receive the incenfe of our praise!
Pure if it rises from the conscious heart,
With thee for ever does the symbol liveTho' small for all thy love is man's return,
Thou ask'st no more than he has pow'r to give.
URN, gentle Hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way
• To where yon taper chears the vale
• With hospitable ray.
• For here forlorn and lost I tread,
• With fainting steps and flow;
• Where wilds, immeasurably spread,
• Seem length'ning as I go."
• Forbear, my fon,' the Hermit cries,
'To tempt the dang'rous gloom;"
• For yonder phantom only flies
• To lure thee to thy doom.tol
* Here to the houseless child of want
* My door is open still;
* And tho' my portion is but scant, • I give it with good will.
* Then turn to-night, and freely share * Whate'er my cell bestows;
* My rushy couch and frugal fare,
* My blessing and repose.
No flocks that range the valley free
• To slaughter I condemn;
* Taught by that Power that pities me, • I learn to pity them:
• But from the mountain's grassy side
• A guiltless feast I bring;
• A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd,
• And water from the spring.
• Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
• All earth-born cares are wrong:
* Man wants but little here below,
• Nor wants that little long.'
Soft as the dew from heaven descends,
His gentle accents fell :
The modest stranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obfcure
The lonely mansion lay;
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,
And strangers led astray.
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