While virtue was his fword, and heav'n his fhield,
Without controul the warrior swept the field;
Loaded with spoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her swarthy Sons fad Ethiopia mourn'd.
But fince thy flagging piety decay'd,

And barter'd God's defence for human aid;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow,
Nor herbs, nor healthful arts avail thee now,
Nor is heav'n chang'd, apostate prince, but Thou.
No mean attonement does this lapse require;
But fee the Son, you must forgive the Sire:
He, the juft prince----with ev'ry virtue blefs'd,
He reign'd, and goodness all the man poffefs'd,
Around his throne fair happiness, and peace
Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and smil'd in ev'ry face.

*

As when along the burning wafte he stray'd, Where no pure ftreams in bubbling mazes play'd, Where drought, incumbent on the thirsty ground, Long fince had breath'd her scorching blasts around; The Prophet calls, th' obedient floods repair To the parch'd fields, for Jofaphat was there. The new-fprung waves, in many a gurgling vein, Trickle luxurious through the fucking plain; Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn, And o'er the defart plenty pours her horn.

JOSAPHAT.

+ ELISHA.

D

So, from the throne his influence he sheds,
And bids the virtues raise their languid heads:
Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails,
Oppreffion flies, and Juftice lifts her scales.
See, on his arm the royal eagle ftand,
Great type of conqueft, and fupreme command;
Th' exulting bird distinguish'd triumph brings,
And greets the Monarch with expanded wings.
Fierce Moab's fons prevent th' impending blow,
Rush on themselves, and fall without the foe,
The pious hero vanquish'd Heaven by pray'r;
His faith an army, and his vows a war,
Thee too, Ozias, fates indulgent bleft,
And thy day fhone, in fairest actions drest;
Till that rafh hand, by fome blind frenzy sway'd,
Unclean, the facred office durft invade,
Quick, o'er thy limbs the fcurfy venom ran,
And hoary filth besprinkled all the man.

Tranfmiffive worth adorns the pious * Son,
The father's virtues with the father's throne.
Lo! there he stands: he, who the rage fubdu'd
Of Ammon's fons, and drench'd his fword in blood.

And doft thou, Ahaz, Judah's fcourge, difgrace, With thy bafe front, the glories of thy race?

ЈОАТНАМ.

See the vile King his iron fceptre bear----
His only praise attends the pious * Heir;
He, in whose foul the virtues all confpire,
The best good fon, from the worst wicked fire.
And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign,
Long-exil'd Piety returns again;

Again in genuine purity fhe fhines:

And with her prefence gilds the long-neglected fhrines.

Ill-ftarr'd does proud Affyria's impious + Lord
Bid Heav'n to arms, and vaunt his dreadful sword;
His own vain threats th' infulting King o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foe.
Th' avenging Angel, by divine command,
The fiery fword full-blazing in his hand,
Leant down from Heav'n: amid the storm he rode
March'd Peftilence before him; as he trod,
Pale Defolation bath'd his fteps in blood.
Thick wrapt in night, thro' the proud hoft he past,
Dispensing death, and drove the furious blast;
Nor bade Destruction give her revels o'er,
Till the gorg'd fword was drunk with human gore.
But what avails thee, pious Prince, in vain
Thy fceptre refcu'd, and th' Affyrian slain ?
Ev'n now the foul maintains her latest ftrife,
And death's chill grasp congeals the fount of life.

*

HEZEKIAH.

SENNACHERIB.

Yet, fee, kind Heav'n renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen fummers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding fun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Tho' nature her inverted course forego,
The day forget to reft, the time to flow,
Yet fhall Jehovah's fervants stand secure,
His mercy fix'd, eternal fhall endure;
On them her ever-healing rays fhall shine;
More mild and bright, and sure, O fun! than thine.
At length the long-expected Prince behold,
The last good King; in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar fpoke his future fame,
Rent to it's base, at good Jofiah's name.
Bleft, happy prince! o'er whofe lamented urn,
In plaintive fong, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom fad Sion's foftest sorrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his fweet melodious woes.

But now fall'n Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in duft, abandon'd, defolate;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguish tears her, with convulfive fighs.
The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain,
Her hands, that rankle with the fervile chain ;
Till he,* Great Chief! in Heav'n's appointed time,
Leads back her children, to their native clime.

Fair Liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envy'd walls fecurely rife.
And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again fhalt lift fublime thy facred head.
But ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint resemblance of the old in you.
No more th' effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful answers, from the mystic cloud:
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine,
And Heav'n has left thy folitary fhrine.
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter, fhalt thou fee
Prefence immediate of the Deity,

The light himself reveal'd, the God confefs'd
in Thee.

And now, at length, the fatal term of years The world's defire have brought, and lo! the

God appears.

The Heav'nly Babe the Virgin Mother bears,
And her fond looks confefs the parent's cares.
The pleafing burthen on her breast she lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a smile surveys.
The Infant smiles, to her fond bofom preft,
And wantons, fportive, on the mother's breast.
A radiant glory speaks him all Divine,

And in the Child the beams of Godhead fhine.
But now alas! far other views disclose

The blackest comprehenfive scene of woes.