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A Translation of the CIV. Psalm to the Original Sense. My soul exalt the Lord with hymns of praise:
O Lord, my God, how boundless is thy might!
Who, like a curtain, hast the heavens display'd,
Whose chariots are the thickned clouds above,
Who walk'st upon the winged winds below,
Who on this base the earth did firmly found,
The waves that rise would drown the highest hill,
But at thy check they fly, and when they hear
Where surging floods, and valing ebbs can tell,
Who hath dispos’d, but thou, the winding way
Where springs down from the steepy crags do beat,
Where birds resort, and in their kind, thy praise
The mounts are wat' red from thy dwelling place,
The barns and meads are fillid for man and beast;
Nor shrubs alone feel thy suffising hand,
So have the fowls their sundry seats to breed,
The ranging stork in stately beeches dwells ;
Nor can the heavenly lights their course forget,
Thou mak'st the night to over-veil the day;
Then savage beasts creep from the silent wood,
And at thy powerful hand demand their food :
Then toiling man till eve pursues his pain.
O Lord, when on thy various works we look,
How richly furnish'd is the earth we tread!
Nor earth alone, but, lo! the sea so wide,
There go the ships that furrow out their way;
Yea, thereof whales enormous sights we see,
Who hast assign'd each thing his proper food,
They gather when thy gifts thou dost divide ;
Their stores abound, if thou thy hand enlarge :
Again, when thou of life renew'st the seeds,
• There are many flowing, vigorous, and poetically expressed lines in this page. Be ever gloried here thy Sovereign Name,
That thou may'st smile on all which thou hast made;
For me, may (while I breathe) both harp and voice,
Let sinners fail, let all profaneness cease;
The hymn which I shall now reprint was inserted twenty-four years ago in “ The Topographer," a from a MS. in the British Museum, in which it was ascribed to Sir Walter Raleigh, who is there said to have composed it just before his execution. The authority of Walton must be considered as strong in favour of Wotton. Still, as some of Raleigh's poems are printed by Walton at the end of Sir Henry's, (as found among Sir Henry's papers), I think it must remain a doubt to whom it ought to be ascribed. A poem entitled “A Description of the Country's Pecreations,” which is given by Ellis as Wotton's, is clearly Raleigh's, having his signature of Ignoto affixed 3 to it. This hymn is both poetical and sublime, and written with admirable flow, harmony, and vigour of simple language.
Vol. I. p. 424, London, 1789, 8vo. On the supposition that this hymn was written by Sir Walter Raleigh, it is remarked, after mentioning “the barbarous usage he met with on his trial, being dragged from his bed in a fever,) and the unexampled ability and firmness with which, even under these circumstances, he defended himself," that “great as the world's opinion is of this illustrious character, it will, if possible, be heightened by the knowledge that he was the author of these sublime lines."
This Hymn was made by Sir Henry Wotton, when he was an
Ambassador at Venice, in the Time of a great Sickness there.
ETERNAL Mover, whose diffused glory,
To shew our groveling reason what thou art,
Whom yet, alas! I know not why, we call
For, what are we but lumps of walking clay?
Why should we swell? whence should our spirits rise ?
Thou then, our strength, Father of life and death,
To whom our thanks, our vows, ourselves we owe;
And thou that wert thy Regal Prophet's Muse,
Let these poor notes ascend unto thy throne,
Where Majesty doth sit with Mercy crown'd;
Where all the choir of heaven resound the fame, • That only thine, thine is the saving name!
Well then, my soul, joy in the midst of pain;
That Christ that conquer'd hell, shall from above With greater triumph yet return again,
And conquer his own justice with his love;
Commanding earth and seas to render those
Now have I done: now are my thoughts at peace,
And now my joys are stronger than my grief:
Thy words are true, thy promises are just,
Walton says, “That at Sir Henry Wotton's first s going ambassador into Italy, his cousin, Sir Albert Morton, went his secretary: and am next to tell you, that Sir Albertus died, Secretary of State to our late king; but, cannot, am not able to express the sorrow that possessed Sir Henry Wotton, at his first hearing the news that Sir Albertus was by death lost to him and this world; and yet, the reader may partly guess by these following expressions: the first in a letter to his Nicholas Pey, of which this that followeth is a
-----'And, my dear Nick, when I had been here almost a fortnight, in the midst of my great contentment, I received notice of Sir Albertus Morton his departure out of this world, who was dearer to me, than mine own being in it; what a wound it is to my heart, you that knew him, and know me, will easily believe: but, our Creator's will must be done, and unrepiningly
received by his own creatures, who is the Lord of all Nature, > and of all fortune, when he taketh to himself now one, and then
another, till that expected day, wherein it shall please him to dissolve the whole, and wrap up even the heaven itself as a scroll of parchment! This is the last philosophy that we must