The fun through florid panes furveys with awe;
And bafhfully with-holds each bolder beam,
Here, as her home, from morn to eve frequents
The cherub Gratitude; behold her eyes!
With love and gladness weepingly they shed
Ecftatic fmiles; the incenfe, that her hands
Uprear, is fweeter than the breath of May
Caught from the nectarine's bloffom, and her voice
Is more than voice can tell; to Him the fings,
To Him who feeds, who clothes, and who adorns,
Who made, and who preferves, whatever dwells
In air, in ftedfast earth, or fickle fea.
O He is good, He is immenfely good;
Who all things form'd, and 'form'd them all for man.
Who mark'd the climates, varied every zone,
Difpenfing all his bleffings for the best
In order and in beauty :-rife attend,
Atteft, and praise, ye quarters of the world!
Bow down, ye elephants, fubmissive bow
To Him, who made the mite! Tho' Afia's pride!
Ye carry armies on your tower-crown'd backs,
And grace the turban'd tyrants, bow to Him
Who is as great, as perfect, and as good
In his lefs ftriking wonders, till at length
The eye's at fault, and feeks th' affifting glafe.
Approach, and bring from Araby the bleft,
The fragrant caffia, frank incenfe, and myrth;
And meekly kneeling at the altar's foot
Lay all the tributary incenfe down.
Stoop, fable Africa, with reverence ftoop,
And from thy brow take off the painted plume;
With golden ingots all thy camels load
T' adorn his temples; haften with thy fpear
Reverted, and thy trusty bow unftrung,
While unpurfu'd thy lions roam or roar,
And ruin'd towers, rude rocks, and caverns wide
Re-murmur to the glorious, furly found.
And thou, fair Indian, whofe immenfe domain
To counterpoife the hemifphere extends,
Hafte from the West, and with thy fruits and flowers,
Thy mines and med'cines, wealthy maid, attend.
More than the plenteousness so fam'd, to flow
By fabling bards from Almathea's horn
Is thine; thine therefore be a portion due
Of thanks and praise; come with thy brilliant crown And veft of fur; and from thy fragrant lap Pomegranates and the rich ananas pour.
But chiefly thou, Europa, feat of Grace
And Christian excellence, his goodness own,
Forth from ten thousand temples pour his praise.
Clad in the armour of the living God
Approach, unfheath the Spirit'd flaming fword;
Faith's fhield, Salvation's glory,-compass'd helin
With fortitude affume, and o'er your heart
Fair Truth's invulnerable breast-plate spread;
Then join the general chorus of all worlds,
And let the fong of Charity begin
In ftrains feraphic, and melodious prayer. "O all-fufficient, all-beneficent,
"Thou God of goodness and of glory, hear!
"Thou who to lowlieft minds doft condescend,
"Affuming paffions to enforce thy laws,
"Adopting jealousy to prove thy love:
"Thou who refign'd humility uphold'st,
Ev'n as the florist props the drooping rofe,
"But quell'ft tyrannic pride with peerless power,
"Ev'n as the tempeft rives the stubborn oak:
"O all-fufficient, all-beneficent,
"Thou God of goodness and of glory, hear:
"Bless all mankind, and bring them in the end
"To heaven, to immortality, and THEE!"
WISDO M.
BY CARTER.
HE folitary bird of night
Through the pale fhades now wings his flight,
And quits the time-fhook tow'r,
Where shelter'd from the blaze of day,
In philofophic gloom he lay,
Beneath his ivy bow'r.
With joy I hear the folemn found,
Which midnight echoes waft around,
And fighing gales repeat;
Fav'rite of Pallas! I attend,
And, faithful to thy fummons, bend
At Wisdom's awful feat.
She loves the cool, the filent eve,
Where no falfe fhows of life deceive,
Beneath the lunar ray :
Here Folly drops each vain disguise,
Nor fports her gaily.colour'd dyes,
As in the glare of day.
O Pallas! queen of ev'ry art,
"That glads the fenfe, or mends the heart's,
Bleft fource of purer joys:
In ev'ry form of beauty bright,
That captivates the mental fight
With pleasure and surprise;
To thy unspotted shrine I bow,
Affift thy modeft suppliant's vow,
That breathes no wild defires:
But taught by thy unerring rules,
To thun the fruitless with of fools,
To nobler views afpires.
Not Fortune's gem, Ambition's plume,
Nor Cytherea's fading bloom,
Be objects of my pray❜r:
Let avarice, vanity, and pride,
These glitt❜ring envy'd toys divide,
The dull rewards of care.
To me thy better gifts impart,
Each moral beauty of the heart,
By ftudious thought refin'd:
For wealth, the fmiles of glad content,
For pow'r, its ampleft, beft extent,
An empire o'er my mind.
When Fortune drops her gay parade,
When Pleasure's tranfient rofes fade,
And whither in the tomb,
Unchang'd is thy immortal prize,
Thy ever-verdant laurels rise
In undecaying bloom.
By thee protected, I defy
The coxcomb's fneer, the ftupid lie
Of ignorance and spite;
Alike condemn the leaden tool,
And all the pointed ridicule
Of undifcerning wit.
|