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Or gives the cannon's parting ball to fly;
Or wings the lightrin, glancing thro' the sky;
Or bursts the openi..! :0.nd (whose fields destroy'd)
The city tumbling thro' the dreadful void !
If, in the fever, samine, pigue, thou blast
Thunpeopl'd earth, and lay the nations waste;
Tho' all her sons, the victims of thy pow'r,
Her fons, that fali by millions in an hour ;
Yet know, shor id all thy terrors ftand display'd,
'Tis but the meaner soul that shrinks with dread :
That folemn scene the suppliant captive mourns ;
That scene, intrepid virtue views, and scorns.
Thine, virtue! thine is each persuasive charm,
Thine ev'ry soul with heav'nly raptures warm ;
Thine all the bliss that innocence bestowe,
And thine the heart that feels another's woes.
What tho' thy train, neglected, or unknown,
Have fought the silent vale, and figh'd alone ?
Tho'torrents stream'd from every melting eye?
Tho' from each bosom burst th' unpity'd figh?
Tho' oft, with life's distracting cares oppreit,
They long'd to sleep in everlasting reft?
O envy'd misery!

-what soft delight
Breath'd on the mind, and smooth'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.
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Now

Now all appear'd ascending from the tomb,
Who breath'd the air, or slumber'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 sons

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the throng,
Each world's majestic offspring towr'd along :
Thick, as the burning sun's meridian rays,
The hov’ring insects balking in the blaze ;
The swarms that flutter, when the day's withdrawn ;
The throng that rises with the rising dawn ;
The world supported 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 noblest fons, the mighty wretched things,
Call'd heroes, consuls, Cæsars, judges, kings,
Now swelld the crowd, promiscuotes and unknown,
The meaneft llave from him who fill'd a throne :
Each tyrant now would bless the yawning tomb,
And pride stands fhudd'ring at th' approaching doom.
Think

you behold ten thousand armies stand,
All form’d, and rais'd by some divine command ;
Saw where the giants burst their dark abode,
While the tomb labour'd with th' unusual load.
Let Theseus, Samson, tow'r upon the plain,
With stern Achilles, from a field of slain :
Let Roine's and Greece triumphant sons appear,
A Cæsar there, an Alexander here :

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Her fplendid multitudes let Persia join,
Thy swarms Thermopylæ, and, Iffus, thine:
See Cannæ tainted with a purple flood,
And great Pharsalia's fields that stream with blood :
Extend the view :-See god-like Trajan's pow'r:
Th’ intrepid chief proceeds from shore to shore,
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 squadrons shape their dreadful way :
Prodigious hofts ! who (all their foes o’erthrown)
Once rul'd supreme, and made a world their own:
Next Asia's millions fill th' extended space,
Known from the rest, a soft, unmanly race;
While there, (each bofom rough with many a scar)
Stand Afric's troops, the stormy sons of war.
Columbus' world, a wide innum'rous throng,
Swells on the straining fight, and pours along,
Blest race ! ere discord snatch'd the gleaming field,
Ere war tremendous thunder'd o'er the field,
Ere freedom ranging o'er Peruvian plains,
Mark'd their dire waste, and heard the clanking chains:
At once dim forrow veil'd her shining 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 ;

She

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She sigh'd ;--and mounting on the glancing ray, Shot o'er the scene, and fought the climes of day. Now rouz'd to life th' assembled myriads trod, No tyrant o'er them shakes th' avenging rod; 'T'is conscience speaks--th' impartial mandate giv'n Consigns to death, or opes the climes of heav'n; Her looks divine the fever'd thought controul, Her voice like music thrills th' enraptur'd foul. But fee, where rifing, a resplendent throng, Thy fons, Europa, claim a nobler song ! Lo! Britain's heroes burst upon the fight, Each chief who dar'd th' exulting foe to fight ! View the wide fields, where fainting armies bled ! See Blenheims, Crefli's, Agincourts display'd ! War, blood, destruction, triumphs, conquests rise, And kings, and patriots bless th' enraptur'd eyes! Let Gallia next her num'rous hosts unfold, The crowds she rais'd by force, or won by gold: Think you beheld th' united armies spread, And all the crowds Turenne, or Conde led ; By Charles' unguided rage the throng that dy'd ; The millions murder'd for her Bourbon's pride. Join all at once, or (if thy thoughts can foar So vast a height) yet add ten thousand more! Say when thy soul its last idea brought, Stretch'd o'er the verge of strong expanded thought ; When all th' unbounded genius soar'd on high, Did e'er fuch numbers strike the wond'ring eye?

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So vast, they mock the soul's confounded fight :
Ev'n thought falls back in its unequal flight;
Not tempting hope the mighty depth can sound,
Nor fancy's widening ken can mark the bound.
Yet, mid' the crowd that pour'd o’er all the field,
A crowd which scarce the labouring eye beheld !
Ye monarchs, hear!--this pomp of nations join'd,
These ages, empires, kingdoms, states combin'd,
These boasted thousands, millions, myriads,--all,
Shrunk to a point ve measurably small !
Scarce when a group of buzzing flies display
Their forms, that glitter with the glancing ray ;
Scarce, less observ'd, mid' all the numbers there,
One flitting wing that feebly fans the air !
Eternal God, whose word fupremely wise
Can cruih, or people all th' expanded skies !
Who bid'It creation wait on thy command,
Throw'st worlds like atoms from thy forming hand!
O! for some nobler, more exalted lays,
Some heav'nly strains, to speak thy boundless praise !
All fancy droops on this traníporting scene !
All rapture dull ! all elegance is mean!
All thought too faint ! all colours cease to glow!
All fire too languid! all sublime too low!
O thou, whose name all nature joins to raise !
What seraph's voice can tell thy wondrous ways !
Who show'd (how god-like was th' amazing plan!)
Thy pow'r on angels, but thy love to man !
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