Art in the piece with nature seem'd to strive,
And ev'ry blushing feature look'd alive.

What scenes appear, where'er I turn my eyes!

How wide the throng! what forms innum'rous rife !
Methinks I ftill behold the teeming earth

Pour all at once her millions at a birth!

They start with terror thro' the opening ground,
Flames all beneath, and thunders all around.
Are these the forms, that languishingly fair,
Repin'd and ficken'd at each breeze of air?
The tender frames, like fading rofes pale,
Whofe leaves are thrivel'd by the ruffling gale?
To death's deftructive dart an easy prey,
That funk, and feebly figh'd the foul away?
This clouded scene attempt not to explore;
Where reafon finks, 'twere madness then to foar:
Heav'n that to each the just proportion brought,
Here bounds the flight of vain bewilder'd thought;
When fancy plays within its proper fphere,
It fmiles, and shows th' unfully'd object clear;
Whene'er from that the erring guide removes,
'Tis dark; all elfe but puzzles, not improves.
Look round, my foul, o'er ev'ry scene below,
What millions rife, diftinguifh'd by their woe!
See widows, orphans, mothers, infants flain,
A feeble, harmlefs, weeping, fainting train!
What crowds, extin&t by an untimely doom,
Are torn from life in youth's deluding bloom!
E 2

A throng

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A throng of mourners fighing by their fide,
The hoary fire perhaps, and virgin bride;

The friend whofe eyes with gushing ftreams o'erflow,
The mother pierc'd with agonizing woe.

See! where the shade, to strike his gasping prey,
Draws the keen dart, that never miis'd its way;
Thron'd on the ruin of terrestrial things,

He fits, and tramples on the duft of kings.
See, his black chariot floats in ftreams of gore,
Pale rage behind, and terror ftrides before.
Not beauty with'ring in the bloom of years,
Not dove-ey'd innocence diffolv'd in tears,
Not kneeling love that trembles as it prays,
Not heart-ftruck anguifh fix'd in stupid gaze!
Not all the frantic groans of wild despair;
Not helpless age, that tears its filver hair;
Can ftay one moment the fevere command,

Or wreft th' avenging dart from that relentless hand.
Here paufe: the crowds extended on the bier
Claim from the filial heart a parting tear;

Spend on the tomb where drooping grandeur lies,
One mournful burft of fympathifing fighs.

O death! terrific ere thy dart is try'd!

Whose hand o'erturns the tow'ring domes of pride;
What wide destruction marks thy fatal reign!
What numbers bleed thro' all thy vast domain !
Whether thy arm, its dreadful strength to show,

Like Sampfon's, fweeps its thoufands at a blow;

Or

Or gives the cannon's parting ball to fly ;

Or wings the lightrin, glancing thro' the sky;
Or bursts the openi,ound (whofe fields deftroy'd)
The city tumbling thro' the dreadful void!
If, in the fever, famine, pague, thou blast
Th' unpeopl'd earth, and lay the nations waste;
Tho' all her fons, the victims of thy pow'r,
Her fons, that fali by millions in an hour;
Yet know, fhould all thy terrors ftand display'd,
'Tis but the meaner foul that shrinks with dread:
That folemn fcene the fuppliant captive mourns ;
That scene, intrepid virtue views, and fcorns.
Thine, virtue! thine is each persuasive charm,
Thine ev'ry foul with heav'nly raptures warm;
Thine all the bliss that innocence bestows,
And thine the heart that feels another's woes.
What tho' thy train, neglected, or unknown,
Have fought the filent vale, and figh'd alone?
Tho' torrents ftream'd from every melting eye?
Tho' from each bofom burst th' unpity'd figh?
Tho' oft, with life's diftracting cares oppreft,
They long'd to fleep in everlasting reft?
O envy'd mifery!—what soft delight
Breath'd on the mind, and fmooth'd the gloom of night:
When nobler prospects, an eternal train,

Made rapture glow in ev'ry beating vein ;

When heav'n's bright domes the smiling eye survey'd, And joys that bloom'd more sweetly from the shade.

Now all appear'd afcending from the tomb,
Who breath'd the air, or flumber'd in the womb :
The crowds that live in all th' unbounded skies,
Now rais'd the trembling head with wild furprize :
Stars with their num'rous fons augment the throng,
Each world's majestic offspring towr'd along :
Thick, as the burning fun's meridian rays,
The hov'ring infects basking in the blaze;

The fwarms that flutter, when the day's withdrawn s
The throng that rifes with the rifing dawn;
The world fupported by Jehovah's care,

And all the race that peoples all the air,
Rang'd on a field by labouring angels rear'd,
In dreadful length th' innum'rous throng appear'd:
Earth's nobleft fons, the mighty wretched things,
Call'd heroes, confuls, Cæfars, judges, kings,
Now fwell'd the crowd, promifcuous and unknown,
The meaneft slave from him who fill'd a throne :
Each tyrant now would bless the yawning tomb,
And pride ftands fhudd'ring at th' approaching doom.
Think you behold ten thousand armies ftand,

All form'd, and rais'd by fome divine command;
Saw where the giants burst their dark abode,
While the tomb labour'd with th' unufual load.
Let Thefeus, Samfon, tow'r upon the plain,
With ftern Achilles, from a field of flain :
Let Romne's and Greece' triumphant fons appear,
A Cæfar there, an Alexander here:

Her

Her fplendid multitudes let Perfia join,

Thy fwarms Thermopylæ, and, Iffus, thine:
See Cannæ tainted with a purple flood,

And great Pharfalia's fields that stream with blood:
Extend the view:-See god-like Trajan's pow'r :
Th' intrepid chief proceeds from fhore to fhore,
Flies on the foe, and paints the reeking field with gore!
Lo! next a throng of wild Barbarians come,
The crowds that triumph'd o'er imperial Rome :
See, like a cloud that gathers on the day,
Th' embattled fquadrons fhape their dreadful way:
Prodigious hofts! who (all their foes o'erthrown)
Once rul'd fupreme, and made a world their own:
Next Afia's millions fill th' extended space,
Known from the rest, a foft, unmanly race;
While there, (each bofom rough with many a scar)
Stand Afric's troops, the ftormy fons of war.
Columbus' world, a wide innumʼrous throng,
Swells on the straining fight, and pours along,
Bleft race! ere difcord fnatch'd the gleaming fhield,
Ere war tremendous thunder'd o'er the field,
Ere freedom ranging o'er Peruvian plains,

Mark'd their dire wafte, and heard the clanking chains:
At once dim forrow veil'd her fhining eyes,

She spread her dazzling plumes, and ey'd the skies; Guilt, rage, and death, terrific shapes! appear,

The diftant tumult murmur'd on her ear: