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6 Before me rose : on the wide shore
Observant as I stood,
The gathering storms around me roar,
And heave the boiling flood.
7 Near and more near the billows rise ;
· Ev'n now my steps thợy lave ;
And death, to my allrighted eyes,
Approach'd in every wave.
8 What hope, or whither to retreat!
Each nerve at once unstrung;
Chill fear had fetter'd fast my teet,
And chain'd my speechless tongue. · 9 I felt my heart within me die ;
When sudden to mine ear
A voice, descending from on high,
Reprov'd my erring fear. 10" What tho' the swelling surge thou see
Impatient to devour ;
Rest, mortal, rest on God's decree,
And thankful own his pow'r. 11 Know, when he bade the deep appear,
Thus far,' th’Alinighty said, • Thus far, no farther, rage; and here
"Let thy prouil waves be stay'd.'” 12 I heard ; and lo! at once controll’d,
The waves, in wild retreat,
Back on themselves reluctant rollid,
And, murm'ring, left my feet.
13 Deeps, to assembling deeps, in vain
Once more the signal gave :
The shores the rushing weight sustain,
And check th’usurping wave.
14 Convinc'd, in nature's volume wise,
The imag'd truth I read;
And sudden from my waking eyes,
Th' instructive vision fled.
15 Then why thus heavy, 0 my soul !
Say, wiy distrustful still,
Thy Thoughts with vain impatience roll
O'er scenes of future ill?
16 Let faith suppress cach rising fear,
Each anxious doubt exclude:
Thy Maker's will has plac'd thee here,
A Maker wise and good ! 17 He to thy ev'ry trial knows,
Its just restraint to give; Attentive to behold thy woes,
And faithful to relieve.
18 Then why thus heavy, O my soul !
Say, why distrustful still,
Thy thoughts with vain impatience roll
O’er scenes of future ill ? 19 Tho' griefs unnumber'd throng thee round,
Still in thy God confide, Whose finger marks the seas their bound, And curbs the headlong tide.---MERRICK.
The youth and the philosopher. 1 A Grecian youth, of talents rare,
Whom Plato's philosophic care,
Had form’d for virtue's nobler view,
By precept and example too,
Would often hoast his matchless skill,
To curb the steed, and guide the wheel;
And as he pass'd the gazing throng,
With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong,
The idiot wonder they express'd,
Was praise and transport to his breast.
2 At length, quite vain, he needs would show
His master what his art could do ;
And bade his slaves the chariot lead
To Academus' sacred shade.
The trembling grove confess’d its fright;
The wood-nymph started at the sight:
The muses drop the learned lyre,
And to their inmost shades retire.
3 Howe'er, the youth, with forward air,
Bows to the 'sage, and mounts the car.
The lash resounds, the coursers spring,
The chariot marks the rolling ring ;
. And gath’ring crowds with eager eyes,
And shouts, pursue him as he flies. 1 Triumphant to the goal return'd,
With nobler thirst his bosom burn'd:
And now along th’indented plain,
The self-same track he marks again;
Pursues with care the nice design,
Nor ever deviates from the line.
Amazement seiz'd the circling crowd;
The youths with emulation glow'd;
Ev'n bearded sages hail'd the boy,
And all but Plato gaz'd with joy. 5 For he, deep-judging sage, beheld
With pain the triumphs of the field :
And when the charioteer drew nigh,
And, flush'd with hope, had caught his eye,
“ Alas! unhappy youth,” he cry'd, .
“Expect no praise from me,” (and sigh’d.) 6 - With indignation I survey
Such skill and judgment thrown away :
The time profusely squander'd there,
On vulgar arts beneath thy care,
If well employ'd, at less expense,
Had taught thee honour, virtue, sense ;
And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate,
To govern men, and guide the state." WHITEHEAD.
SECTION V. Discourse between Adam and Eve, retiring to rest, 1 Now came still ev’ning on, and twilight gray
Had in her sober liv'ry all things clad.
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were sunk; all but the wakeful nightingale.
She, all night long, her am'rous descant sung:
Silence was pleas’d. Now glow'd the firmainent
With living sapphires : Hesperus, that led :
The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen, unveil'd her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
2 When Adam thus to Eve: “Fair consort, th' hour
Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest,
Mind us of like repose; since God hath set
Labour and rest, as day and night, to men
Successive, and the timely dew of sleep,
Now falling with soft slumb'rous weight, inclines
Our eye-lids. Other creatures all day long
Rove idle unemploy'd, and less need rest;
Man hath his daily work of body or of mind
Appointed, which declares his dignity,
And the regard of Heav'n on all his ways;
While other animals inactive range,
And of their doings God takes no account.
3 To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the east
With first approach of light, we must be risen,
And at our pleasant labour; to reform
Yon flow'ry arbours, yonder alleys green,
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,
That mock our scant manuring, and require
More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth.
Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums,
That lie bestrown, unsightly and unsmooth,
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease.
Mean while, as nature wills, night bids us rest." 4 To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorn'd;
“ My author and disposer, what thou bidst,
Unargu’d, I omey; so God ordains.
With thee conversing, I forget all time;
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow'r,
Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth,
After soft show'rs; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; the silent night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair inoon,
And theep the gems of heav'n, her starry train: 5 But neither breath of morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun
On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, tiow'r,
Glist'ring with dew; mor fragrance after shoirre;
Nor grateful evening mild ; nor silent night,
With this her solemn bird ; nor walk by moon,
Or glitt'ring star-light, without thee is sweet.
But wherefore all night long shine these? for whom
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes ?” 6 To whom our gen ral ancestor reply'd :
“Daughter of God and man, accomplish'd Eve,
These have their course to finish round the earth,
By morrow ev'ning; and from land to land,
In order though to nations yet unborn,
Minist’ring light prepaid they set and rise;
Lest total darkness should by night regain
Her old possession, and extinguish life
In nature and all things; which these soft fires
Not only enlighten, but, with kindly heat
Of various influence, foment, and warm,
Temper, or nourish; or in part shed down
Their stellar virtue on ah kinds that'grow
On earth, made hereby apter to receive
Perfection from the sun's more potent ray.
7 These then, though unbeheld in deep of night,
Shine not in vain ; nor think, though men were none,
That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise :
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.
All these with ceaseless praise his works behold,
Both day and night. How often, from the steep
Orechoing hill or thicket, have we heard
Celestial voices to the midnight air,
Sole, or responsive each to others' note,
Singing their great Creator? Oft in bands,
While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk
With heav'nly touch of instrumental sounds,
In full harmonic number join'd, their songs
Dii ide the night, and lift our thoughts to heav'n.”
8 Thus talking hand in hand alone they pass'd
On to their blissful bow'r.
- There arriv’d, both stood, Both turn'd; and under open sky, ador'd The God that made the sky, air, earth, and heav'n, Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, And starry pole. “Thou also mad'st the night,