PSALM the Hundred and Forty-fourth Paraphrased.
Y foul, in raptures rise to bless the Lord,
Who taught my hands to draw the fatal fword; Led by his arm, undaunted I appear
In the first ranks of death, and front of war.
He taught me first the pointed fpear to wield,
And mow the glorious harveft of the field.
By him infpir'd, from strength to strength I paft,
Plung'd through the troops, and laid the battle waste.
In him my hopes I center and repose,
He guards my life, and shields me from
He held his ample buckler o'er my head,
And screen'd me trembling in the mighty fhade:
Against all hoftile violence and power,
He was my fword, my bulwark, and my tower.
He o'er my people will maintain my sway,
And teach my willing fubjects to obey.
Lord what is man, of vile and humble birth?
Sprung with his kindred reptiles from the earth ?
That he fhould thus thy fecret counfels fhare?
Or what his fon, who challenges thy care?
Why does thine eye regard this nothing, man?
His life a point, his measure but a fpan?
The fancy'd pageant of a moment made,
Swift as a dream, and fleeting as a fhade.
Come in thy power, and leave th' ethereal plain,
And to thy harness'd tempeft give the rein i
Yon ftarry arch fhall bend beneath the load,
So loud the chariot, and fo great the God!
Soon as his rapid wheels Jehovah rolls,
The folding skies shall tremble to the poles:
Heaven's gaudy axle with the world fhall fall,
Leap from the centre, and unhinge the ball.
Touch'd by thy hands, the labouring hills expire
Thick clouds of finoke, and deluges of fire;
On the tall groves the red destroyer preys,
And wraps th' eternal mountains in the blaze:
Full on my foes may all thy lightnings fly,
On purple pinions through the gloomy sky.
Extend thy hand, thou kind all-gracious God,
Down from the heaven of heavens thy bright abode,
And shield me from my foes, whofe towering pride
Lowers like a storm, and gathers like a tide :
Against ftrange children vindicate my cause,
Who curfe thy name, and trample on thy laws;
Who fear not vengeance which they never felt,
Train'd to blafpheme, and eloquent in guilt:
Their hands are impious, and their deeds profane,
They plead their boafted innocence in vain.
Thy name fhall dwell for ever on my tongue,
And guide the facred numbers of my song;
To thee my Muse shall confecrate her lays,
And every note shall labour in thy praise ;
The hallow'd theme fhall teach me how to fing,
Swell on the lyre, and tremble on the string.
Oft has thy hand from fight the monarch led,
When death flew raging, and the battle bled;
And fnatch'd thy fervant in the last despair
From all the rifing tumult of the war.
Against ftrange children vindicate my cause,
Who curse thy name, and trample on thy laws;
That our fair fons may fmile in early bloom,
Our fons, the hopes of all our years to come :
Like plants that nurs'd by fostering showers arife,
And lift their fpreading honours to the fkies.
That our chafte daughters may their charms display,
Like the bright pillars of our temple, gay,
Polish'd, and tall, and smooth, and fair as they.
Piled up with plenty let our barns appear,
And burst with all the feasons of the year;
Let pregnant flocks in every quarter bleat,
And drop their tender young in every ftreet.
Safe from their labours may our oxen come,
Safe may they bring the gather'd fummer home.
Oh! may no fighs, no ftreams of forrow flow,
To ftain our triumphs with the tears of woe.
Blefs'd is the nation, how fincerely blefs'd!
Of fuch unbounded happiness poffefs'd,
To whom Jehovah's facred name is known,
Who claim the God of Ifrael for their own.
The THIRD CHAPTER of JO B.
OB curs'd his birth, and bade his curfes flow
In words of grief, and eloquence of woe;
Loft be that day which dragg'd me to my doom,
Recent to life, and struggling from the womb;
hofe beams with fuch malignant luftre fhone,
hence all my years in anxious circles run.
st be that night in undetermin'd space,
nd veil with deeper fhades her gloomy face,
hich crowded up with woes this flender span,
hile the dull mass rofe quickening into man.
O'er that curs'd day let fable darkness rife,
rowd the blue vault, and blacken all the skies
Hay God o'er-look it from his heavenly throne,
or rouze from fleep the fedentary fun,
-'er its dark face to fhed his genial ray,
and warm to joy the melancholy day.
May the clouds frown, and livid poisons breathe,
And ftain heaven's azure with the fhade of death.
May ten-fold darkness from that dreadful night
Seize and arreft the ftraggling gleams of light;
due vengeance for its fatal crime,
Still be it banish'd from the train of time;
Nor in the radiant lift of months appear,
To ftain the fhining circle of the year:
There through her dusky range may
filence roam,
There may no ray, no glimpse of gladness come,
No voice to cheer the folitary gloom.
May every ftar his gaudy light with-hold,
Nor through the vapour shoot his beamy gold:
Nor let the dawn with radiant fkirts come on,
Tipp'd with the glories of the rifing fun;
Because that dreadful period fix'd my doom,
Nor feal'd the dark receffes of the womb.
To that original my ills I owe,
Heir of affliction, and the son of woe.
Oh! had I dy'd unexercis'd in pain,
And wak'd to life, to fleep in death again!
Why did not Fate attend me at my birth,
And give me back to my congenial earth?
Why was I, when an infant, footh'd to rest,
Lull'd on the knee, or hung upon the breast?
For now the grave would all my cares compose,
Conceal my forrows, and inter my woes :
There wrapp'd and lock'd within his cold embrace,
Safe had I flumber'd in the arms of peace;
There with the mighty kings, who lie inroll'd
In clouds of incense, and in beds of gold:
There with the princes, who in grandeur fhone,
And aw'd the trembling nations from the throne;
Afflicted Job an equal reft might have,
And fhare the dark retirement of the grave;
Or as a shapelefs Embryo feek the tomb,
Rude and imperfect from the abortive womb :
Ere motion's early principle began,
Or the dim fubftance kindled into man.
There from their monftrous crimes the wicked cease, Their labouring guilt is weary'd into peace; There blended fleep the coward and the brave, Stretch'd with his lord, the undistinguish'd slave Enjoys the common refuge of the grave. An equal lot the mighty victor shares, And lies amidst the captives of his wars';
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