And his unfuff'ring kingdom yet will come.

Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless fong

Burft from the groves! and when the restless day
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,

Sweetest of birds! fweet Philomela, charm

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The lift'ning fhades, and teach the night His praife. 80
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation fmiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! in fwarming cities vaft,
Affembled men, to the deep organ join

The long-refounding voice, oft-breaking clear,
At folemn pauses, thro' the fwelling base;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardor rife to heav'n.

Or if you rather chuse the rural fhade,
And find a fane in ev'ry facred grove;
There let the fhepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting feraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still fing the GOD OF SEASONs, as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the bloffom blows, the fummer-ray
Ruffets the plain, infpiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rifes in the black'ning eaft;

Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!

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SHOULD fate command me to the fartheft verge 100 Of the green earth, to distant barb'rous climes,

Rivers unknown to fong; where first the fun

Gilds Indian mountains, or his fetting beam
Flames on th' Atlantic ifles; 'tis nought to me :
Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste as in the city full;

And where HE vital breathes there must be joy.
When ev'n at last the folemn hour fhall come,
And wing my myftic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new pow'rs,
Will rifing wonders fing: I cannot go
Where UNIVERSAL LOVE not fmiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their fons ;
From feeming Evil ftill educing Good,

And Better thence again, and Better still,
In infinite progreffion. But I lofe

Myfelf in Him, in LIGHT INEFFABLE!

Come then, expreffive filence, mufe нis praise.

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THE END OF VOL. I.