With his, thofe captives mingle their remains,
The fame in death, nor leffen'd by their chains,
Why are we doom'd to view the genial ray?
Why curft to bear the painful light of day?
Oh! with what joy the wretches yield their breath?
And pant in bitterness of soul for death ?
As a rich prize, the diftant blifs they crave,
And find the glorious treasure in the grave.
Why is the wretch condemn'd without relief,
To combat woe, and tread the round of grief,
Whom in the toils of fate his God has bound,
And drawn the line of miferies around?
When nature calls for aid, my fighs intrude,
My tears prevent my neceffary food:
Like a full ftream o'ercharg'd, my forrows flow,
In bursts of anguish, and a tide of woe;
For now the dire affliction which I fled,
Pours like a roaring torrent on my head.
My terrors ftill the phantom view'd, and wrought
The dreadful image into every thought:
At length pluck'd down, the fatal stroke I feel,
And lofe the fancy'd in the real ill.
The Twenty-Fifth Chapter of Joв, Paraphrafed.
THEN will vain man complain and murmur ftill?
And ftand on terms with his Creator's will?
Shall this high privilege to clay be given ?
Shall duft arraign the providence of heaven?
With reafon's line the boundless distance scan;
Oppofe heaven's awful majefty to man.
To what a length his vaft dominions run?
How far beyond the journeys of the sun ?
He hung yon' golden balls of light on high,
And launch'd the planets through the liquid fky:
To rolling worlds he mark'd the certain space,
Fixt and fuftain'd the elemental peace.
Unnumber'd as thofe worlds his armies move,
And the gay legions guard his realms above;
High o'er th' ethereal plains, the myriads rife,
And pour their flaming ranks along the fkies :
From their bright arms inceffant fplendors ftream,
And the wide azure kindles with the gleam.
To this low world he bids the light repair,
Down through the gulphs of undulating air:
For man he taught the glorious fun to roll,
From his bright barrier to his western goal.
How then fhall man, thus infolently proud,
Plead with his Judge, and combat with his God?
How from his mortal mother can he come,
Unftain'd from fin, untin&tur'd from the womb ?
The Lord from his fublime empyreal throne,
As a dark globe, regards the filver moon.
Thofe ftars, that grace the wide celestial plain,
Are but the humbleft fweepings of his train;
Dim are the brighteft fplendors of the sky;
And the fun darkens in Jehovah's eye.
But does not fin diffuse a fouler stain,
And thicker darknefs cloud the foul of man?
Shall he the depths of endless wisdom know?
This fhort-liv'd fovereign of the world below?
His frail original confounds his boast,
Sprung from the ground, and quicken'd from the duft.
The Song of MOSES, in the Fifteenth Chapter of EXODUS, Paraphrafed..
THEN to the Lord, the vast triumphant throng
Of Ifrael's fons, with Mofes, rais'd the fong.
To God our grateful accents will we raise, And every tongue shall celebrate his praise : Behold display'd the wonders of his might; Behold the Lord triumphant in the fight! With what immortal fame and glory grac'd! What trophies rais'd amid the watery waste! How did his power the feeds and riders sweep Ingulph'd in heaps, and whelm'd beneath the deep? Whom should we fear, while he, heaven's awful Lord, Unfheaths for Ifrael his avenging fword? His outstretch'd arm, and tutelary care, Guarded and fav'd us in the last despair: His mercy eas'd us from our circling pains, Unbound our fhackles, and unlock'd our chains. To him our God, our Fathers God, I'll rear A facred temple, and adore him there, With vows and incenfe, facrifice and prayer. The Lord commands in war; his matchlefs might Hangs out and guides the balance of the fight: By him the war the mighty leaders form, And teach the hovering tumult where to storm.
His Name, O Ifrael, Heaven's Eternal Lord,
For-ever honour'd, reverenc'd, and ador'd.
When to the fight from Ægypt's fruitful foil,
Pour'd forth in myriads all the fons of Nile;
The Lord o'erthrew the courfer and the car,
Sunk Pharaoh's pride, and o'erwhelm'd his war.
Beneath th' encumber'd deeps his legions lay,
For many a league impurpling all the fea:
The chiefs, and steeds, and warriors whirl'd around,
Lay midft the roarings of the furges drown'd.
Who fhall thy power, thou mighty God, withstand,
And check the force of thy victorious hand ?
Thy hand, which red with wrath in terror rose,
To crush that day thy proud Ægyptian foes.
Struck by that hand, their drooping squadrons fall,
Crowding in death; one fate o'erwhelms them all.
Soon as thy anger, charg'd with vengeance, came,
They funk like stubble crackling in the flanie.
At thy dread voice the fummon'd billows crowd,
And a ftill filence lulls the wondering flood:
Roll'd up, the crystal ridges strike the skies,
Waves peep o'er waves, and feas o'er feas arife.
Around in heaps the liftening furges stand,
Mute and obfervant of the high command.
Congeal'd with fear attends the watery train,
Rouz'd from the fecret chambers of the main.
With favage joy the fons of Egypt cry'd,
(Vaft were their hopes, and boundless was their pride)
Let us pursue thofe fugitives of Nile,
This fervile nation, and divide the fpoil:
And spread fo wide the flaughter, till their blood
Dyes with a stronger red the bluthing flood.
Oh! what a copious prey their hofts afford,
To glut and fatten the devouring fword!
As thus the yawning gulf the boafters pafs'd,
At thy command rufh'd forth the rapid blaft.
Then, at the fignal given, with dreadful sway,
In one huge heap roll`d down the roaring fea;
And now the difintangled waves divide,
Unlock their folds, and thaw the frozen tide.
The deeps alarm'd call terribly from far
The loud, embattled furges to the war;
Till her proud fons astonish'd Ægypt found,
Cover'd with billows, and in tempefts drown'd.
What God can emulate thy power divine,
Or who oppofe his miracles to thine?
When joyful we adore thy glorious name,
Thy trembling foes confefs their fear and fhame.
The world attends thy abfolute command,
And nature waits the wonders of thine hand.
That hand, extended o'er the fwelling fea,
The confcious billows reverence and obey.
O'er the devoted race the furges fweep,
And whelm the guilty nation in the deep.
That hand redeem'd us from our fervile toil,
And each infulting tyrant of the Nile:
Our nation came beneath that mighty hand,
From Egypt's realms, to Canaan's facred land.
Thou wert their Guide, their Saviour, and their God, To smooth the way, and clear the dreadful road.
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