Behold your instant doom; embattled hosts
Pour their dark files in vengeance on your coasts;
Exulting myriads rend the' astonish'd air

With strains of triumph, for the Lord is there;
Full on the camp the streams of glory play *,
And burnish'd casques reflect a heavenly ray.
Wide wasting ruin scours the reeking plain,
And rides in thunder o'er a host of slain;

Low in the dust your vaunted bulwarks lie,
Whilst flames aspire, and darkness blots the sky.
Thrice happy Israel +, doom'd by Heaven to wield
Its own dread weapons through the tented field;
The' eternal king thy raging foes disarms,
And bears thee safe on everlasting arms.
To earthly steel they trust the weak defence;
God is thy shield, thy sword Omnipotence;
Strong in his strength, secure in aid divine,
March on to conquest, lo! the land is thine.'

A sacred joy his patriot breast inspires, And his rapt soul with holy transport fires; Full in his view the streaming banners fly, And songs of victory cleave the yielding sky. In his high course the flaming orb of day O'er Gibeon's plain arrests his downward way, And night's pale regent checks her silver car, Where Ajalon's wide vales reecho shouts of war. Rouse, Moloch, rouse! thy veteran bands array; Spread the deep squadrons, wake the martial lay; Unfurl afresh their flagging signs in air; Breathe o'er their ranks the vigour of despair. Oh! is there none the patriot sword to rear, Roll the scythed car, or shake the balanced spear?

* Exod. xxv. 21, 22, &c.

+ Deut. xxxiii. 26, &c.

Avenge the cries of Philistæa's blood,

Dash down her foes, and tower her guardian God?
There is from yonder camp a giant form

Strides through the vale, and bears resistless storm;
High o'er his head a brazen helmet glows,
And folds of brass his hardy limbs enclose.
Bright gleam the horrors of his burning shield,
And shoot fierce lightnings o'er the dusky field.
His livid eyeballs flash indignant fire

On all the chiefs; the chiefs dismay'd retire.
No veteran warrior aims the vengeful blow,
Nor dares the combat with so proud a foe.
That boast is thine, and thine the destined prize,
Thou son of Jesse, favourite of the skies.
What though of ruddy mien and aspect fair,
Thy tender grasp no ponderous target bear;
What though thy hand no thirsty falchion wield,
Nor vizor'd casque thy youthful forehead shield;
Heaven deals the winged death; 'tis Heaven alone
Gives its sure mission to the destined stone.

But hush'd the din of arms; in tuneful lays
Floats through the air the melody of praise.
Bright as the flame that gilds the morning skies
Thy lofty walls, imperial Salem, rise:
Their burnish'd gold thy massy roofs display,
And glittering columns shed a doubtful day.
Above the rest the temple towers supreme,
Lifts its broad front, and meets the morning beam;
There all the east her treasured stores combines,
Proud Senir's firs and Ophir's golden mines.
Exulting myriads round the porches throng,
Urge the glad prayer and pour the heavenly song.
Oh, who may see and live! an awful gloom
Of radiant glory fills the hallow'd dome;

Back in amaze the priests appalled retire,
Nor face the splendours of that cloudy fire.
With joy the prophet, 'Hail, thou bless'd abode !
This is no other than the House of God *.
As erst on Israel beam'd celestial light,
A cloud by day, a blazing fire by night;
On thy dread walls descends the glorious stream,
And light etherial veils the cherubim.

Here shall assembled tribes with joy repair,
Cleave to thy gates, and fill the House of Prayer:
Through all thy courts their grateful strains shall

rise,

And heaven's best incense greet propitious skies.
'Ah, fading beam, the sunshine of a day!
Ah, passing beauty destined to decay!

Vice rears her hideous form, and brooding shrouds
The opening prospect in a night of clouds.
In vain I look, no radiant dawn appears
Through the long vista of succeeding years;
Sad mournful waste, save where Josiah's name,
Or some mild Asa's shoots a transient flame.

6 Sleeps then the thunder of avenging power?
I see, I see the gathering tempests lour!
Dark rolling squadrons all thy seats surround,
And towers and temples totter to the ground.
On distant shores thy ceaseless sorrows flow †,
And proud Euphrates mocks the tide of woe;
No songs of Sion ‡ cheer the breath at even,
Hail the glad morn, or waft the soul to heaven.
But on lone banks, where drooping willows fade,
And withering branches cast a leafless shade,
His idle harp the weeping captive sees
In silence trembling to the passing breeze.

* Gen. xxviii. 17. + Babylonish Captivity.
Psalm cxxxvii.

'Nation perverse! what mortal eye may trace The long disasters of thy guilty race? Again thy sons the lofty fabric raise,

Proud cities tower, and golden columns blaze;
Again they bid the ripening harvests bloom,

Taste the pure stream, and breathe the sweet perfume;

But boast no more the ample range their own,
Nor claim the bright reversion of a throne:
Usurping lords the favour'd seats profane,
And Gentile standards mock the hallow'd plain.
'Now o'er the shadowy fields and dim-seen
bowers

Night's sullen breath imbrowns the wintry hours:
O'er slumbering nature no rude murmur flows,
'Tis all hush'd stillness and a dumb repose.
But, hark! how sweet those solemn strains arise
Swell from the vale, and echo to the skies.
Glory to God on high! to man be given
Peace and good will!-I hear the song of heaven.
Angelic choirs symphonious voices raise,
Tune their loud harps, and pour the stream of praise.
See darting radiance cleave the waste of night!
See ether flaming with a blaze of light!

He comes, the promised star; exult and sing,
Ye distant isles, and hail your new-born king.
He comes, the Prince of Peace! this sacred hour
Shall own the fulness of a Saviour's power.
Ye blind, approach the light; ye dumb, rejoice;
And in new concert raise the enraptured voice.

"Ye, who the paths of night's dark vale have trod, Behold the rising dawn, behold your God! To us a child is born, a son is given,

The world's last hope, the last best gif of Heaven. Luke ii. 13, 14. + Matt. ii. 2, &c.

VOL. I.

L

At his rebuke hell's baffled legions flee,

The winds are hush'd, and calm'd the raging sea. Death hears his mandate, and the silent grave Proclaims his word omnipotent to save.

'Now swells the kindling strife; hoarse cries
ascend

On every gale, and all the concave rend.
Crowds roll on crowds to Calvary's lofty brow,
And shouts convulsive shake the plains below.
He dies! the Lord of Life resigns his breath;
Nails pierce the hands that grasp the keys of death.
The veil is rent in twain, disparted fly

The shatter'd rocks, and midnight veils the sky. Burst the dark tombs; upheaves the trembling ground,

*

And shuddering nature groans and quakes around.
Seraphic hosts forsake their thrones above,
To gaze in wonder on the scene of love.
Shall man alone in proud rebellion rise,
Hurl the proud vaunt and mock avenging skies?
Lo! from the brightness of his high abode,
In solemn gloom descends the pomp of God.
Famine, and plague, and all the train of war
Wait on his march, and bear his flaming car.
He comes in vengeance; earth his presence feels,
And rocks convulsed beneath his living + wheels.
Clouds, mantling clouds,his burning path proclaim,
And whirlwinds speak the terrors of his name.
No more with silent step heaven's milder light
Walks in soft glory through the gloom of night;
But howling tempests all the sky deform,
And ocean boils beneath the rushing storm.

* In allusion to the signs preceding the destruction of Jeru

salem.

† Ezek. i. 19, 20.