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 fhall 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 anfwers from the mystic cloud :
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine,
And Heav'n has left thy folitary shrine.
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter shalt thou fee
Prefence immediate of the Deity,

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

}

And now, at length, the fated 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 burden on her breaft fhe lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a fmile furveys.
The Infant fmiles, to her fond bosom prest,
And wantons, sportive, on the mother's breast.
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 facrifice

Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies!
Fixt to the Crofs, his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy ftreams from every wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life exhausting roll,
And the ftrong pang that rends the stubborn foul!
As all death's tortures, with fevere delay,
Exult and riot in the nobleft prey.

And can't thou, ftupid man, those forrows fee,
Nor fhare 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;
Canft thou ?---while nature smarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the fympathetic ground!
Lo! the black fun, his chariot backward driv❜n,
Blots out the day, and perishes from Heav'n :
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, ftart into life again.

And thou, O tomb, once more fhalt wide display,
Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey.
Thou, groaning earth fhalt heave, abforpt in flame,
As the laft pangs convulfe thy lab'ring frame;
When the fame God unshrouded thou shalt fee,
Wrapt in full blaze of pow'r and Majefty,
Ride on the clouds; whilft, as his chariot flies,
The bright effufion streams through all the skies.

Then shall the proud diffolving 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 fplendors of th' enliven'd glass
Sink undiftinguifh'd in the burning mafs.
And O! till earth, and feas, and Heav'n decay,
Ne'er may that fair creation fade away;
May winds and ftorms thofe beauteous colours
fpare,

Still may they bloom, as permanent as fait,
All the vain rage of wafting time repell,

And his Tribunal fee, whofe Cross they paint fo well.

A

FRAGMENT.

BY

MR. MALLET.

FAIR

AIR morn afcends: fresh zephyr's breath Blows liberal o'er yon bloomy heath; Where, fown profufely, herb and flower, Of balmy fmell, of healing power, Their fouls in fragrant dews exhale, And breathe fresh life in ev'ry gale. Here, fpreads a green expanfe of plains, Where, fweetly-penfive, Silence reigns: And there, at utmost stretch of eye, A mountain fades into the sky; While winding round, diffus'd and deep, A river rolls with founding fweep.

Of human art no traces near,

I feem alone with nature here!

Here are thy walks, O facred HEALTH! The Monarch's blifs, the Beggar's wealth;

The feafoning of all good below,

The fovereign friend in joy or woe.

O Thou, moft courted, moft defpis'd:
And but in absence duly priz'd!
Power of the foft and rofy face!
The vivid Pulfe, the vermil grace,
The fpirits when they gayeft fhine,
Youth, beauty, pleasure, all are thine!
O fun of life! whofe heavenly ray
Lights up, and chears our various day,
The turbulence of hopes and fears,
The ftorm of fate, the cloud of years,
Till nature with thy parting light,
Reposes late in Death's calm night:
Fled from the trophy'd roofs of state,
Abodes of fplendid pain and hate;
Fled from the couch, where, in sweet fleep,
Hot Riot would his anguifh fteep,
But toffes through the midnight fhade,
Of death, of life, alike afraid;

For ever fled to fhady cell,

Where Temperance, where the Mufes dwell;
Thou oft art seen, at early dawn,
Slow-pacing o'er the breezy lawn :

Or on the brow of mountain high,

In filence feafting ear and eye,

With fong and profpect, which abound. From birds, and woods, and waters round.

But when the fun, with noon-tide ray, Flames forth intolerable day;

D