Part 3

WHO taught thee conflict with the pow'rs of night, To vanquish satan in the fields of light? Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown, How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown! War with each princedom, throne, and pow'r is o'er, The scene is ended to return no more. O could my muse thy seat on high behold, How deckt with laurel, how enrich'd with gold! O could she hear what praise thine harp employs, How sweet thine anthems, how divine thy joys! What heav'nly grandeur should exalt her strain! What holy raptures in her numbers reign! To sooth the troubles of the mind to peace, To still the tumult of life's tossing seas, To ease the anguish of the parents heart, What shall my sympathizing verse impart? Where is the balm to heal so deep a wound? Where shall a sov'reign remedy be found? Look, gracious Spirit, from thine heav'nly bow'r, And thy full joys into their bosoms pour; The raging tempest of their grief control, And spread the dawn of glory through the soul, To eye the path the saint departed trod, And trace him to the bosom of his God.

To a Lady on the Death of her Husband.

GRIM monarch! see, depriv'd of vital breath, A young physician in the dust of death: Dost thou go on incessant to destroy, Our griefs to double, and lay waste our joy? Enough thou never yet wast known to say, Though millions die, the vassals of thy sway: Nor youth, nor science, not the ties of love, Nor ought on earth thy flinty heart can move. The friend, the spouse from his dire dart to save, In vain we ask the sovereign of the grave. Fair mourner, there see thy lov'd Leonard laid, And o'er him spread the deep impervious shade. Clos'd are his eyes, and heavy fetters keep His senses bound in never-waking sleep, Till time shall cease, till many a starry world Shall fall from heav'n, in dire confusion hurl'd Till nature in her final wreck shall lie, And her last groan shall rend the azure sky: Not, not till then his active soul shall claim His body, a divine immortal frame. But see the softly-stealing tears apace Pursue each other down the mourner's face; But cease thy tears, bid ev'ry sigh depart, And cast the load of anguish from thine heart: From the cold shell of his great soul arise, And look beyond, thou native of the skies; There fix thy view, where fleeter than the wind Thy Leonard mounts, and leaves the earth behind. Thyself prepare to pass the vale of night To join for ever on the hills of light: To thine embrace this joyful spirit moves To thee, the partner of his earthly loves; He welcomes thee to pleasures more refin'd, And better suited to th' immortal mind.

G O L I A T H O F G A T H. 1 SAMUEL, Chap. xvii.

YE martial pow'rs, and all ye tuneful nine, Inspire my song, and aid my high design. The dreadful scenes and toils of war I write, The ardent warriors, and the fields of fight: You best remember, and you best can sing The acts of heroes to the vocal string: Resume the lays with which your sacred lyre, Did then the poet and the sage inspire. Now front to front the armies were display'd, Here Israel rang'd, and there the foes array'd; The hosts on two opposing mountains stood, Thick as the foliage of the waving wood; Between them an extensive valley lay, O'er which the gleaming armour pour'd the day, When from the camp of the Philistine foes, Dreadful to view, a mighty warrior rose; In the dire deeds of bleeding battle skill'd, The monster stalks the terror of the field. From Gath he sprung, Goliath was his name, Of fierce deportment, and gigantic frame: A brazen helmet on his head was plac'd, A coat of mail his form terrific grac'd, The greaves his legs, the targe his shoulders prest: Dreadful in arms high-tow'ring o'er the rest A spear he proudly wav'd, whose iron head, Strange to relate, six hundred shekels weigh'd; He strode along, and shook the ample field, While Phoebus blaz'd refulgent on his shield: Through Jacob's race a chilling horror ran, When thus the huge, enormous chief began: "Say, what the cause that in this proud array "You set your battle in the face of day? "One hero find in all your vaunting train, "Then see who loses, and who wins the plain; "For he who wins, in triumph may demand "Perpetual service from the vanquish'd land: "Your armies I defy, your force despise, "By far inferior in Philistia's eyes: "Produce a man, and let us try the fight, "Decide the contest, and the victor's right." Thus challeng'd he: all Israel stood amaz'd, And ev'ry chief in consternation gaz'd; But Jesse's son in youthful bloom appears, And warlike courage far beyond his years: He left the folds, he left the flow'ry meads, And soft recesses of the sylvan shades. Now Israel's monarch, and his troops arise, With peals of shouts ascending to the skies; In Elah's vale the scene of combat lies. When the fair morning blush'd with orient red, What David's fire enjoin'd the son obey'd, And swift of foot towards the trench he came, Where glow'd each bosom with the martial flame. He leaves his carriage to another's care, And runs to greet his brethren of the war. While yet they spake the giant-chief arose, Repeats the challenge, and insults his foes: Struck with the sound, and trembling at the view, Affrighted Israel from its post withdrew. "Observe ye this tremendous foe, they cry'd, "Who in proud vaunts our armies hath defy'd: "Whoever lays him prostrate on the plain, "Freedom in Israel for his house shall gain; "And on him wealth unknown the king will pour, "And give his royal daughter for his dow'r." Then Jesse's youngest hope: "My brethren say, "What shall be done for him who takes away "Reproach from Jacob, who destroys the chief. "And puts a period to his country's grief. "He vaunts the honours of his arms abroad, "And scorns the armies of the living God." Thus spoke the youth, th' attentive people ey'd The wond'rous hero, and again reply'd: "Such the rewards our monarch will bestow, "On him who conquers, and destroys his foe." Eliab heard, and kindled into ire To hear his shepherd brother thus inquire, And thus begun: "What errand brought thee? say "Who keeps thy flock? or does it go astray? "I know the base ambition of thine heart, "But back in safety from the field depart." Eliab thus to Jesse's youngest heir, Express'd his wrath in accents most severe. When to his brother mildly he reply'd. "What have I done? or what the cause to chide? The words were told before the king, who sent For the young hero to his royal tent: Before the monarch dauntless he began, "For this Philistine fail no heart of man: "I'll take the vale, and with the giant fight: "I dread not all his boasts, nor all his might." When thus the king: "Dar'st thou a stripling go, "And venture combat with so great a foe? "Who all his days has been inur'd to fight, "And made its deeds his study and delight: "Battles and bloodshed brought the monster forth, "And clouds and whirlwinds usher'd in his birth." When David thus: "I kept the fleecy care, "And out there rush'd a lion and a bear; "A tender lamb the hungry lion took, "And with no other weapon than my crook "Bold I pursu'd, and chas d him o'er the field, "The prey deliver'd, and the felon kill'd: "As thus the lion and the bear I slew, "So shall Goliath fall, and all his crew: "The God, who sav'd me from these beasts of prey, "By me this monster in the dust shall lay." So David spoke. The wond'ring king reply'd; "Go thou with heav'n and victory on thy side: "This coat of mail, this sword gird on," he said, And plac'd a mighty helmet on his head: The coat, the sword, the helm he laid aside, Nor chose to venture with those arms untry'd, Then took his staff, and to the neighb'ring brook Instant he ran, and thence five pebbles took. Mean time descended to Philistia's son A radiant cherub, and he thus begun: "Goliath, well thou know'st thou hast defy'd "Yon Hebrew armies, and their God deny'd: "Rebellious wretch! audacious worm! forbear, "Nor tempt the vengeance of their God too far: "Them, who with his Omnipotence contend, "No eye shall pity, and no arm defend: "Proud as thou art, in short liv'd glory great, "I come to tell thee thine approaching fate. "Regard my words. The Judge of all the gods, "Beneath whose steps the tow'ring mountain nods, "Will give thine armies to the savage brood, "That cut the liquid air, or range the wood. "Thee too a well-aim'd pebble shall destroy, "And thou shalt perish by a beardless boy: "Such is the mandate from the realms above, "And should I try the vengeance to remove, "Myself a rebel to my king would prove. "Goliath say, shall grace to him be shown, "Who dares heav'ns Monarch, and insults his throne?" "Your words are lost on me," the giant cries, While fear and wrath contended in his eyes, When thus the messenger from heav'n replies: "Provoke no more Jehovah's awful hand "To hurl its vengeance on thy guilty land: "He grasps the thunder, and, he wings the storm, "Servants their sov'reign's orders to perform." The angel spoke, and turn'd his eyes away, Adding new radiance to the rising day. Now David comes: the fatal stones demand His left, the staff engag'd his better hand: The giant mov'd, and from his tow'ring height Survey'd the stripling, and disdain'd the fight, And thus began: "Am I a dog with thee? "Bring'st thou no armour, but a staff to me? "The gods on thee their vollied curses pour, "And beasts and birds of prey thy flesh devour." David undaunted thus, "Thy spear and shield "Shall no protection to thy body yield: "Jehovah's name------no other arms I bear, "I ask no other in this glorious war. "To-day the Lord of Hosts to me will give "Vict'ry, to-day thy doom thou shalt receive; "The fate you threaten shall your own become, "And beasts shall be your animated tomb, "That all the earth's inhabitants may know "That there's a God, who governs all below: "This great assembly too shall witness stand, "That needs nor sword, nor spear, th' Almighty's hand: "The battle his, the conquest he bestows, "And to our pow'r consigns our hated foes." Thus David spoke; Goliath heard and came To meet the hero in the field of fame. Ah! fatal meeting to thy troops and thee, But thou wast deaf to the divine decree; Young David meets thee, meets thee not in vain; 'Tis thine to perish on th' ensanguin'd plain. And now the youth the forceful pebble slung Philistia trembled as it whizz'd along: In his dread forehead, where the helmet ends, Just o'er the brows the well-aim'd stone descends, It pierc'd the skull, and shatter'd all the brain, Prone on his face he tumbled to the plain: Goliath's fall no smaller terror yields Than riving thunders in aerial fields: The soul still ling'red in its lov'd abode, Till conq'ring David o'er the giant strode: Goliath's sword then laid its master dead, And from the body hew'd the ghastly head; The blood in gushing torrents drench'd the plains, The soul found passage through the spouting veins. And now aloud th' illustrious victor said, "Where are your boastings now your champion's "dead?" Scarce had he spoke, when the Philistines fled: But fled in vain; the conqu'ror swift pursu'd: What scenes of slaughter! and what seas of blood! There Saul thy thousands grasp'd th' impurpled sand In pangs of death the conquest of thine hand; And David there were thy ten thousands laid: Thus Israel's damsels musically play'd. Near Gath and Edron many an hero lay, Breath'd out their souls, and curs'd the light of day: Their fury, quench'd by death, no longer burns, And David with Goliath's head returns, To Salem brought, but in his tent he plac'd The load of armour which the giant grac'd. His monarch saw him coming from the war, And thus demanded of the son of Ner. "Say, who is this amazing youth?" he cry'd, When thus the leader of the host reply'd; "As lives thy soul I know not whence he sprung, "So great in prowess though in years so young:" "Inquire whose son is he," the sov'reign said, "Before whose conq'ring arm Philistia fled." Before the king behold the stripling stand, Goliath's head depending from his hand: To him the king: "Say of what martial line "Art thou, young hero, and what sire was thine?" He humbly thus; "The son of Jesse I: "I came the glories of the field to try. "Small is my tribe, but valiant in the fight; "Small is my city, but thy royal right." "Then take the promis'd gifts," the monarch cry'd, Conferring riches and the royal bride: "Knit to my soul for ever thou remain "With me, nor quit my regal roof again."

Thoughts on the WORKS OF PROVIDENCE.

A R I S E, my soul, on wings enraptur'd, rise To praise the monarch of the earth and skies, Whose goodness and benificence appear As round its centre moves the rolling year, Or when the morning glows with rosy charms, Or the sun slumbers in the ocean's arms: Of light divine be a rich portion lent To guide my soul, and favour my intend. Celestial muse, my arduous flight sustain And raise my mind to a seraphic strain! Ador'd for ever be the God unseen, Which round the sun revolves this vast machine, Though to his eye its mass a point appears: Ador'd the God that whirls surrounding spheres, Which first ordain'd that mighty Sol should reign The peerless monarch of th' ethereal train: Of miles twice forty millions is his height, And yet his radiance dazzles mortal sight So far beneath--from him th' extended earth Vigour derives, and ev'ry flow'ry birth: Vast through her orb she moves with easy grace Around her Phoebus in unbounded space; True to her course th' impetuous storm derides, Triumphant o'er the winds, and surging tides. Almighty, in these wond'rous works of thine, What Pow'r, what Wisdom, and what Goodness shine! And are thy wonders, Lord, by men explor'd, And yet creating glory unador'd! Creation smiles in various beauty gay, While day to night, and night succeeds to day: That Wisdom, which attends Jehovah's ways, Shines most conspicuous in the solar rays: Without them, destitute of heat and light, This world would be the reign of endless night: In their excess how would our race complain, Abhorring life! how hate its length'ned chain! From air adust what num'rous ills would rise? What dire contagion taint the burning skies? What pestilential vapours, fraught with death, Would rise, and overspread the lands beneath? Hail, smiling morn, that from the orient main Ascending dost adorn the heav'nly plain! So rich, so various are thy beauteous dies, That spread through all the circuit of the skies, That, full of thee, my soul in rapture soars, And thy great God, the cause of all adores. O'er beings infinite his love extends, His Wisdom rules them, and his Pow'r defends. When tasks diurnal tire the human frame, The spirits faint, and dim the vital flame, Then too that ever active bounty shines, Which not infinity of space confines. The sable veil, that Night in silence draws, Conceals effects, but shows th' Almighty Cause, Night seals in sleep the wide creation fair, And all is peaceful but the brow of care. Again, gay Phoebus, as the day before, Wakes ev'ry eye, but what shall wake no more; Again the face of nature is renew'd, Which still appears harmonious, fair, and good. May grateful strains salute the smiling morn, Before its beams the eastern hills adorn! Shall day to day, and night to night conspire To show the goodness of the Almighty Sire? This mental voice shall man regardless hear, And never, never raise the filial pray'r? To-day, O hearken, nor your folly mourn For time mispent, that never will return. But see the sons of vegetation rise, And spread their leafy banners to the skies. All-wise Almighty Providence we trace In trees, and plants, and all the flow'ry race; As clear as in the nobler frame of man, All lovely copies of the Maker's plan. The pow'r the same that forms a ray of light, That call d creation from eternal night. "Let there be light," he said: from his profound Old Chaos heard, and trembled at the sound: Swift as the word, inspir'd by pow'r divine, Behold the light around its Maker shine, The first fair product of th' omnific God, And now through all his works diffus'd abroad. As reason's pow'rs by day our God disclose, So we may trace him in the night's repose: Say what is sleep? and dreams how passing strange! When action ceases, and ideas range Licentious and unbounded o'er the plains, Where Fancy's queen in giddy triumph reigns. Hear in soft strains the dreaming lover sigh To a kind fair, or rave in jealousy; On pleasure now, and now on vengeance bent, The lab'ring passions struggle for a vent. What pow'r, O man! thy reason then restores, So long suspended in nocturnal hours? What secret hand returns the mental train, And gives improv'd thine active pow'rs again? From thee, O man, what gratitude should rise! And, when from balmy sleep thou op'st thine eyes, Let thy first thoughts be praises to the skies. How merciful our God who thus imparts O'erflowing tides of joy to human hearts, When wants and woes might be our righteous lot, Our God forgetting, by our God forgot! Among the mental pow'rs a question rose, "What most the image of th' Eternal shows?" When thus to Reason (so let Fancy rove) Her great companion spoke immortal Love. "Say, mighty pow'r, how long shall strife prevail, "And with its murmurs load the whisp'ring gale? "Refer the cause to Recollection's shrine, "Who loud proclaims my origin divine, "The cause whence heav'n and earth began to be, "And is not man immortaliz'd by me? "Reason let this most causeless strife subside." Thus Love pronounc'd, and Reason thus reply'd. "Thy birth, coelestial queen! 'tis mine to own, "In thee resplendent is the Godhead shown; "Thy words persuade, my soul enraptur'd feels "Resistless beauty which thy smile reveals." Ardent she spoke, and, kindling at her charms, She clasp'd the blooming goddess in her arms. Infinite Love where'er we turn our eyes Appears: this ev'ry creature's wants supplies; This most is heard in Nature's constant voice, This makes the morn, and this the eve rejoice; This bids the fost'ring rains and dews descend To nourish all, to serve one gen'ral end, The good of man: yet man ungrateful pays But little homage, and but little praise. To him, whose works arry'd with mercy shine, What songs should rise, how constant, how divine!

To a Lady on the Death of three Relations.

WE trace the pow'r of Death from tomb to tomb, And his are all the ages yet to come. 'Tis his to call the planets from on high, To blacken Phoebus, and dissolve the sky; His too, when all in his dark realms are hurl'd, From its firm base to shake the solid world; His fatal sceptre rules the spacious whole, And trembling nature rocks from pole to pole. Awful he moves, and wide his wings are spread: Behold thy brother number'd with the dead! From bondage freed, the exulting spirit flies Beyond Olympus, and these starry skies. Lost in our woe for thee, blest shade, we mourn In vain; to earth thou never must return. Thy sisters too, fair mourner, feel the dart Of Death, and with fresh torture rend thine heart. Weep not for them, and leave the world behind. As a young plant by hurricanes up torn, So near its parent lies the newly born-- But 'midst the bright ehtereal train behold It shines superior on a throne of gold: Then, mourner, cease; let hope thy tears restrain, Smile on the tomb, and sooth the raging pain. On yon blest regions fix thy longing view, Mindless of sublunary scenes below; Ascend the sacred mount, in thought arise, And seek substantial and immortal joys; Where hope receives, where faith to vision springs, And raptur'd seraphs tune th' immortal strings To strains extatic. Thou the chorus join, And to thy father tune the praise divine.

To a Clergyman on the Death of his Lady.

WHERE contemplation finds her sacred spring, Where heav'nly music makes the arches ring, Where virtue reigns unsully'd and divine, Where wisdom thron'd, and all the graces shine, There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng, While praise eternal warbles from her tongue; There choirs angelic shout her welcome round, With perfect bliss, and peerless glory crown'd. While thy dear mate, to flesh no more confin'd, Exults a blest, an heav'n-ascended mind, Say in thy breast shall floods of sorrow rise? Say shall its torrents overwhelm thine eyes? Amid the seats of heav'n a place is free, And angels open their bright ranks for thee; For thee they wait, and with expectant eye Thy spouse leans downward from th' empyreal sky: "O come away," her longing spirit cries, "And share with me the raptures of the skies. "Our bliss divine to mortals is unknown; "Immortal life and glory are our own. "There too may the dear pledges of our love "Arrive, and taste with us the joys above; "Attune the harp to more than mortal lays, "And join with us the tribute of their praise "To him, who dy'd stern justice to stone, "And make eternal glory all our own. "He in his death slew ours, and, as he rose, "He crush'd the dire dominion of our foes; "Vain were their hopes to put the God to flight, "Chain us to hell, and bar the gates of light." She spoke, and turn'd from mortal scenes her eyes, Which beam'd celestial radiance o'er the skies. Then thou dear man, no more with grief retire, Let grief no longer damp devotion's fire, But rise sublime, to equal bliss aspire, Thy sighs no more be wafted by the wind, No more complain, but be to heav'n resign'd 'Twas thine t' unfold the oracles divine, To sooth our woes the task was also thine; Now sorrow is incumbent on thy heart, Permit the muse a cordial to impart; Who can to thee their tend'rest aid refuse? To dry thy tears how longs the heav'nly muse!

An HYMN to the MORNING

ATTEND my lays, ye ever honour'd nine, Assist my labours, and my strains refine; In smoothest numbers pour the notes along, For bright Aurora now demands my song. Aurora hail, and all the thousand dies, Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies: The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays, On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays; Harmonious lays the feather'd race resume, Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume. Ye shady groves, your verdant gloom display To shield your poet from the burning day: Calliope awake the sacred lyre, While thy fair sisters fan the pleasing fire: The bow'rs, the gales, the variegated skies In all their pleasures in my bosom rise. See in the east th' illustrious king of day! His rising radiance drives the shades away-- But Oh! I feel his fervid beams too strong, And scarce begun, concludes th' abortive song.

An HYMN to the EVENING.

SOON as the sun forsook the eastern main The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain; Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing, Exhales the incense of the blooming spring. Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their notes, And through the air their mingled music floats. Through all the heav'ns what beauteous dies are spread! But the west glories in the deepest red: So may our breasts with ev'ry virtue glow, The living temples of our God below! Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light, And draws the sable curtains of the night, Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind, At morn to wake more heav'nly, more refin'd; So shall the labours of the day begin More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin. Night's leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes, Then cease, my song, till fair Aurora rise.

ISAIAH lxiii. 1-8.

SAY, heav'nly muse, what king or mighty God, That moves sublime from Idumea's road? In Bosrah's dies, with martial glories join'd, His purple vesture waves upon the wind. Why thus enrob'd delights he to appear In the dread image of the Pow'r of war? Compres'd in wrath the swelling wine-press groan'd, It bled, and pour'd the gushing purple round. "Mine was the act," th' Almighty Saviour said, And shook the dazzling glories of his head, "When all forsook I trod the press alone, "And conquer'd by omnipotence my own; "For man's release sustain'd the pond'rous load, "For man the wrath of an immortal God: "To execute th' Eternal's dread command "My soul I sacrific'd with willing hand; "Sinless I stood before the avenging frown, "Atoning thus for vices not my own." His eye the ample field of battle round Survey'd, but no created succours found; His own omnipotence sustain'd the right, His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night; Beneath his feet the prostrate troops were spread, And round him lay the dying, and the dead. Great God, what light'ning flashes from thine eyes? What pow'r withstands if thou indignant rise? Against thy Zion though her foes may rage, And all their cunning, all their strength engage, Yet she serenely on thy bosom lies, Smiles at their arts, and all their force defies.

On RECOLLECTION.

MNEME begin. Inspire, ye sacred nine, Your vent'rous Afric in her great design. Mneme, immortal pow'r, I trace thy spring: Assist my strains, while I thy glories sing: The acts of long departed years, by thee Recover'd, in due order rang'd we see: Thy pow'r the long-forgotten calls from night, That sweetly plays before the fancy's sight. Mneme in our nocturnal visions pours The ample treasure of her secret stores; Swift from above the wings her silent flight Through Phoebe's realms, fair regent of the night; And, in her pomp of images display'd, To the high-raptur'd poet gives her aid, Through the unbounded regions of the mind, Diffusing light celestial and refin'd. The heav'nly phantom paints the actions done By ev'ry tribe beneath the rolling sun. Mneme, enthron'd within the human breast, Has vice condemn'd, and ev'ry virtue blest. How sweet the sound when we her plaudit hear? Sweeter than music to the ravish'd ear, Sweeter than Maro's entertaining strains Resounding through the groves, and hills, and plains. But how is Mneme dreaded by the race, Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace? By her unveil'd each horrid crime appears, Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears. Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe! Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know. Now eighteen years their destin'd course have run, In fast succession round the central sun. How did the follies of that period pass Unnotic'd, but behold them writ in brass! In Recollection see them fresh return, And sure 'tis mine to be asham'd, and mourn. O Virtue, smiling in immortal green, Do thou exert thy pow'r, and change the scene; Be thine employ to guide my future days, And mine to pay the tribute of my praise. Of Recollection such the pow'r enthron'd In ev'ry breast, and thus her pow'r is own'd. The wretch, who dar'd the vengeance of the skies, At last awakes in horror and surprise, By her alarm'd, he sees impending fate, He howls in anguish, and repents too late. But O! what peace, what joys are hers t' impart To ev'ry holy, ev'ry upright heart! Thrice blest the man, who, in her sacred shrine, Feels himself shelter'd from the wrath divine!

On IMAGINATION.

THY various works, imperial queen, we see, How bright their forms! how deck'd with pomp by thee! Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand, And all attest how potent is thine hand. From Helicon's refulgent heights attend, Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend: To tell her glories with a faithful tongue, Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song. Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies, Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes, Whose silken fetters all the senses bind, And soft captivity involves the mind. Imagination! who can sing thy force? Or who describe the swiftness of thy course? Soaring through air to find the bright abode, Th' empyreal palace of the thund'ring God, We on thy pinions can surpass the wind, And leave the rolling universe behind: From star to star the mental optics rove, Measure the skies, and range the realms above. There in one view we grasp the mighty whole, Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul. Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise; The frozen deeps may break their iron bands, And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands. Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign, And with her flow'ry riches deck the plain; Sylvanus may diffuse his honours round, And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd: Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose, And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose. Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain, O thou the leader of the mental train: In full perfection all thy works are wrought, And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought. Before thy throne the subject-passions bow, Of subject-passions sov'reign ruler thou; At thy command joy rushes on the heart, And through the glowing veins the spirits dart. Fancy might now her silken pinions try To rise from earth, and sweep th' expanse on high: From Tithon's bed now might Aurora rise, Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies, While a pure stream of light o'erflows the skies. The monarch of the day I might behold, And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold, But I reluctant leave the pleasing views, Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse; Winter austere forbids me to aspire, And northern tempests damp the rising fire; They chill the tides of Fancy's flowing sea, Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.

A Funeral POEM on the Death of C. E. an Infant of Twelve Months.

THROUGH airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg'd he sees unnumber'd systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin'd round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Th' ethereal now, and now th' empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond'ring eyes: The angels view him with delight unknown, Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne; Then smilling thus: "To this divine abode, "The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God, "Thrice welcome thou." The raptur'd babe replies, "Thanks to my God, who snatch'd me to the skies, "E'er vice triumphant had possess'd my heart, "E'er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart, "E'er yet on sin's base actions I was bent, "E'er yet I knew temptation's dire intent; "E'er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt, "E'er vanity had led my way to guilt, "But, soon arriv'd at my celestial goal, "Full glories rush on my expanding soul." Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round Clapt their glad wings, the heav'nly vaults resound. Say, parents, why this unavailing moan? Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan? To Charles, the happy subject of my song, A brighter world, and nobler strains belong. Say would you tear him from the realms above By thoughtless wishes, and prepost'rous love? Doth his felicity increase your pain? Or could you welcome to this world again The heir of bliss? with a superior air Methinks he answers with a smile severe, "Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there." But still you cry, "Can we the sigh forbear, "And still and still must we not pour the tear? "Our only hope, more dear than vital breath, "Twelve moons revolv'd, becomes the prey of death; "Delightful infant, nightly visions give "Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive, "We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast, "The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest." To yon bright regions let your faith ascend, Prepare to join your dearest infant friend In pleasures without measure, without end.

To Captain H-----D, of the 65th Regiment.

SAY, muse divine, can hostile scenes delight The warrior's bosom in the fields of fight? Lo! here the christian and the hero join With mutual grace to form the man divine. In H-----D see with pleasure and surprise, Where valour kindles, and where virtue lies: Go, hero brave, still grace the post of fame, And add new glories to thine honour'd name, Still to the field, and still to virtue true: Britannia glories in no son like you.

To the Right Honourable WILLIAM, Earl of DARTMOUTH, His Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for North-America, &c.

HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: The northern clime beneath her genial ray, Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway: Elate with hope her race no longer mourns, Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns, While in thine hand with pleasure we behold The silken reins, and Freedom's charms unfold. Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies She shines supreme, while hated faction dies: Soon as appear'd the Goddess long desir'd, Sick at the view, she languish'd and expir'd; Thus from the splendors of the morning light The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night. No more, America, in mournful strain Of wrongs, and grievance unredress'd complain, No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand Had made, and with it meant t' enslave the land. Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate Was snatch'd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat: What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parent's breast? Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd That from a father seiz'd his babe belov'd: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway? For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due, And thee we ask thy favours to renew, Since in thy pow'r, as in thy will before, To sooth the griefs, which thou did'st once deplore. May heav'nly grace the sacred sanction give To all thy works, and thou for ever live Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame, Though praise immortal crowns the patriot's name, But to conduct to heav'ns refulgent fane, May fiery coursers sweep th' ethereal plain, And bear thee upwards to that blest abode, Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.

O D E T O N E P T U N E.