Crown'd with that majesty which form'd the world,
And the grand rebel flaming downward hurl'd.
Virtue, dominion, praife, omnipotence,

Support the train of their triumphant prince.
A zone, beyond the thought of angels bright,
Around him, like the zodiac, winds its light.
Night fhades the folemn arches of his brows,
And in his cheek the purple morning glows.
Where'er ferene he turns propitious eyes,
Or we expect, or find a paradise :

But if refentment reddens their mild beams,
The Eden kindles, and the world's in flames.
On one hand knowledge fhines in pureft light,
On one the fword of juftice fiercely bright.
Now bend the knee in fport, present the reed,
Now tell the scourg'd impoftor he shall bleed!

But oh! ye fons of men, exalt your voice,
And bid the foul thro' all her pow'rs rejoice:
Mercy, his darling, in his bofom found,
Scatters ambrofial odours all around;

Unbends his brow, and mitigates his frown,
And fooths his rage, and melts his thunder down.
My thoughts are chang'd; now man exalt thine eye,
In thy dread Judge thy dear Redeemer spy;
Ev'n Judas ftruggles his difpair to quell;
Hope almost bloffoms in the fhades of hell.

Thus glorious thro' the courts of heav'n, the source
Of life and death eternal bends his course;

Loud thunders round him roll, and light'nings play,
Th' angelic host is rang'd in bright array:

Some touch the ftring, fome ftrike the founding fhell,
And mingling voices with rich concert fwell,
Voices feraphic, bleft with fuch a strain,
Could fatan hear, he were a god again :
All heav'n fhines forth, in all her pomp compleat,
For God himself, magnificently great.
Triumphant King of glory! foul of blifs!
What a ftupendous turn of fate is this?
O! whither art thou rais'd above the scorn
And indigence of him in Bethlem born,
A needy, helpless, unaccounted guest,
And but a fecond to the fodder'd beast ?

How chang'd from him who meekly proftrate laid,
Vouchfaf'd to wash the feet himself had made?
From him who was betray'd, forfook, deny'd,
Wept, languifh'd, pray'd, bled, thifted, groan'd and dy'd ;
Hung pierc'd and bare, infulted by the foe,

All heav'n in tears above, earth unconcern'd below?
And was't enough to bid the fun retire ?

Why did not nature at thy groan expire?

I fee, I hear, I feel the

pangs

divine,

The world is vanifh'd -I am wholly thine.
Miftaken Caiaphas! ah! which blafphem'd,
Thou or thy pris'ner? which fhall be condemn'd?
Well might it thou rend thy garments, well exclaim,
Deep are the horrors of eternal flame !

But God is good! 'tis wondrous all! ev'n he
Thou gav'ft to death, fhame, torture, died for thee.
Now the defcending triumph ftops its flight

From earth full twice a planetary height.

There all the clouds, condens'd, two columns raise
Distinct with orient veins and golden blaze.
One fix'd on earth, and one on fea, and round
Its ample foot the fwelling billows found.
Thefe an immeafurable arch fupport,
The grand tribunal of this awful court.
Sheets of bright azure, from the purest sky,

Stream from the crystal arch, and round the columns fly.
Death wrapt in chains low at the bafis lyes,

And on the point of his own arrow dies.

Here high enthron'd th' eternal Judge is plac'd,
With all the grandeur of his Godhead grac'd;
Stars on his robes in beauteous order meet,
And the fun burns beneath his dreadful feet.
Now an archangel, eminently bright,
From off his filver staff of wondrous height,
Unfurls the Chriftian flag, which waving flies,
And shuts and opens more than half the skies :
The cross fo ftrong a red, it sheds a stain,
Where'er it floats, on earth, in air, or main ;
Flushes the hill, and fets on fire the wood,
And turns the deep-dy'd ocean into blood.
Oh formidable glory! dreadful bright!
Refulgent torture to the guilty fight.

Ah

Ah turn, unwary mufe, nor dare reveal
What horrid thoughts with the polluted dwell.
Say not, (to make the fun shrink in his beam)
Dare not affirm, they wish it all a dream;
Wish, or the fouls may with their limbs decay,
Or God be spoil'd of his eternal sway;
But rather, if thou know'ft the means, unfold
How they with transport may the scene behold..
Ah how! but by repentance, by a mind
Quick and fevere its own offence to find?
By tears, and groans, and never-ceafing care
And all the pious violence of prayer?
Thus then, with fervency till now unknown,
I caft my heart before th' eternal throne,
In this great temple, which the skies furround,
For homage to its Lord, a narrow bound.

O thou! whofe balance does the mountains weigh, • Whose will the vast tumultuous seas obey ;

'Whose breath can turn those watry worlds to flame,
'That flame to tempeft, and that tempeft tame;
'Earth's meaneft fon, with trembling, proftrate falls,
And on the plenty of thy goodness calls.

Ah! give the winds all paft offence to sweep,
To scatter wide, and bury in the deep:
Thy pow'r, my weakness, may I ever see,
And wholly dedicate my foul to thee.
'Reign o'er my will; my paffions ebb and flow
At thy command, nor human motive know !
If anger boil, let anger be my praise,
And fin the graceful indignation raise.
'My love be warm to fuccour the distress'd,
And lift the burden from the foul opprefs'd.
'Oh! may my understanding ever read
'This glorious volume, which thy wildom made!
Who decks the maiden fpring with flow'ry pride?
'Who calls forth fummer like a sparkling bride ?
Who joys the mother-autumn's bed to crown?
And bids old winter lay her honours down?
Not the great Ottoman, or greater Czar,
Not Europe's arbitrefs of peace and war.
May fea and land, and earth and heav'n be join'd,
To bring th' eternal Author to my mind!.

M 2

• When

'When oceans roar, or awful thunders roll,

May thoughts of thy dread vengeance fhake my foul; < When earth's in bloom, or planets proudly shine, • Adore my heart the majefty divine.

Thro' every scene of life, or peace, or war, 'Plenty, or want, thy glory be my care!

Shine we in arms? or fing beneath our vine?
Thine is the vintage, and the conquest thine:
Thy pleasure points the shaft, and bends the bow;
The cluster blasts, or bids it richly flow;

''Tis thou that lead'ft our powerful armies forth,
And giv'st great Anne thy fceptre o'er the north.
Grant I may ever, at the morning ray,

Open with pray'r the confecrated day;
Tune thy great praife, and bid my foul arife,
And with the mounting fun afcend the skies?
As that advances, let my zeal improve,
And glow with ardour of confummate love;
Nor ceafe at eve, but with the setting fun
My endless worship fhall be still begun.

And Oh! permit the gloom of folemn night
To facred thought may forcibly invite.

< When this world's fhut, and awful planets rise,
Call on our minds, and raise them to the skies;
• Compose our fouls with a lefs dazzling fight,
And fhew all nature in a milder light;

• How every boiftrous thought in calm fubfides!
How the fmooth'd spirit into goodness glides !
O how divine! to tread the milky way,
To the bright palace of the Lord of day;
"His court admire, or for his favour fue,
'Or leagues of friendship with his faints renew;
'Pleas'd to look down, and fee the world asleep,
"While I long vigils to its founder keep.

• Canft thou not shake the centre? Oh controul, 'Subdue by force the rebel in my foul:

Thou who canft ftill the raging of the flood,
• Restrain the various tumults of my blood;
Teach me with equal firmness to sustain
Alluring pleasure and affaulting pain.
O may I pant for thee in each defire!
And with strong faith foment the holy fire!

• Stretch

Stretch out my foul in hope, and grasp the prize,
"Which in eternity's deep bofom lyes!
At the great day of recompence behold,
Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold!
Then, wafted upward to the blissful feat,
From age to age my grateful fong repeat;
My light, my life, my God, my Saviour fee
"And rival angels in the praise of thee.

BOOK III.

Effe quoque in fatis reminiscitur affore tempus,
Quo mare, quo tellus, correptaque regia cali
Ardeat, et mundi moles operofa laboret.

T

OVID. MET.

HE book unfolding, the refplendent feat
Of faints and angels, the tremendous fate
Of guilty fouls, the gloomy realms of woe,
And all the horrors of the world below,
I next prefume to fing: what yet remains
Demands my last, but most exalted strains..
And let the mufe or now affect the sky,
Or in inglorious fhades for ever lye,
She kindles, fhe's inflam'd fo near the goal;
She mounts, fhe gains upon the ftarry pole;
The world grows lefs as the purfues her flight,
And the fun darkens to her diftant fight.
Heav'n opening, all its facred pomp displays,
And overwhelms her with the rushing blaze!
The triumph rings! archangels fhout around!
And echoing nature lengthens out the found!

Ten thousand trumpets now at once advance;
Now deepest filence lulls the vast expanse;
So deep the filence, and fo ftrong the blast,
As nature died, when she had groan'd her last.
Nor man nor angel moves; the Judge on high
Looks round, and with his glory fills the sky ::
Then on the fatal book his hand he lays,
Which high to view fupporting feraphs raise ;
In folemn form the rituals are prepar'd,
The feal is broken, and a groan is heard,

M 3

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