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Here Ammon glories ; proud, incestuous lord !
This hand sustains the robe, and that the sword.
Frowning and fierce, with haughty strides he tow'rs,
And on his horrid brow defiance lours.
There Abfalom the ravish'd fceptre sways,
And his stol'n honour all his shame displays :
The base usurper youth! who joins in one
The rebel subject, and th' ungrateful fon.

Amid the royal race, see Nathan stand :
Fervent he seems to speak, and lift his hand ;
His looks th' emotion of his soul disclose,
And eloquence from ev'ry gesture flows.
Such, and so stern he came, ordain’d to bring
Th’ungrateful mandate to the guilty king :
When, at his dreadful voice, a sudden smart
Shot thro' the trembling monarch's conscious heart;
From his own lips condemn’d; severe decree !
Had his God prov'd fo ftern a Judge as he.
But man with frailty is ally'd by birth;
Consummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth :
Thro' all the soul tho' virtue holds the rein,
Beats at the heart, and springs at ev'ry vein ; .
Yet ever from the clearest source have ran
Some grofs allay, some tincture of the man.

But who is he-deep musing? In his mind
He seems to weigh, in Reason's scales, mankind :
Fix'd Contemplation holds his steady eyes !
I know the sage; the wiseft of the wise *.
Bless'd with all man could wish, or prince obtain,
Yet his great heart pronounc'd those blessings vain.
And lo! bright glittering in his facred hands,
In miniature the glorious temple stands.
Effulgent frame ! stupendous to behold!
Gold the strong valves, the roof of burnille'd gold;



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The wandering ark, in that bright dome infhırin’d,
Spreads the strong light, eternal, unconfin'd!
Above, th' unutterable' glory plays;
Presence Divine ! and the full-streaming rays
Pour thro' reluctant crowds intolerable blaze.

But stern oppression rends Reboam's reign ;
See the gay prince, injurious, proud, and vain !
Th'imperial sceptre totters in his hand,
And proud rebellion triumphs in the land.
Curs'd with corruption's ever-fruitful spring,
A beardless fenate, and a haughty king.

There Ara, good and great, the sceptre bears,
Justice attends his peace, success his wars :
While Virtue was his sword, and Heaven his shield,
Without controul the warrior swept the field ;
Loaded with spoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her swarthy fons sad Ethiopia mourn'd.
But fince thy. flagging piety decay'd,
And barter'd God's defence for human aid;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow!
Nor herbs nor healthful arts avail thee now;
Nor is Heaven chang'd, apostate prince, but thou !
No mean atonement does this lapse require ;
But see the son, you must forgive the fire :
He, the juft prince *; with ev'ry virtue bless'd.
He reign'd, and goodness all the man poffess'd;
Around his throne fair happiness and peace
Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and smil'd in ev'ry face.
As when along the burning waste he stray'd,
Where no pure streams in bubbling mazes play'd,
Where Drought, incumbent on the thirsty ground,
Long since had breath'd her scorching blasts around;
The prophet + calls, th' obedient floods repair
To the parch'd fields, for Jofaphat was there.

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The new-sprung waves, in many a gurgling vein,
Trickle luxurious thro' the fucking plain ;
Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn,
And o'er the desart Plenty pours her horn.
So, from the throne his influence he sheds,
And bids the Virtues raise their languid heads;
Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails,
Oppression Aies, and Justice lifts her scales.
See, on his arm, the royal eagle stand,
Great type of conquest and fupreme command ;
Th’exulting bird distinguish'd triumph brings,
And greets the monarch with expanded wings :
Fierce Moab's fons prevent th' impending blow,
Ruh on themfelves, and fall without the fue.
The pious hero vanquilh'd Heav'n by prayer ;
His faith an army, and his vows a war.
Thee, too, Ozias, fates indulgent bless'd,
And thy days shone, in fairest actions dress’d;
Till that rash hand, by fome blind frenzy fway'd,
Unclean, the facred office durft invade :
Quick o'er thy limbs the surfy venom ran,
And hoary filth besprinkled all the man.

Transmissive worth adorns the pious fon*,
The father's virtues with the father's throne.
Lo! there he stands ; he who the rage fubdu'd
Of Ammour's fons, and drench'd his fword in blood ?:
And dost thou, Ahaz, Judah's scourge, disgrace,
With thy bafe front, the glories of thy ráce ?
See the vile king his iron fceptre bear
His only praise attends the pious heir t;
He, in whose foul the virtues all conspire,
The best good fon, from the most wicked fire.
And, lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign,
Long exild Piety returns again:

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Again, in genuine purity she shines,
And with her presence gilds the long-neglected fhrines.
Ill-Starr'd does proud Assyria’s impious Lord *
Bid Heaven to arms, and vaunt his dreadful sword ;
His own vain threats th' insulting king o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the generous foe.
Th'avenging Angel, by Divine command,
The fiery sword full-blazing in his hand,
Lean'd down from Heav'n : amid the storm he rode,
March'd Pestilence before him ; as he trod,
Pale Desolation bath'd his steps in blood.
Thick wrapt in night, through the proud hoft he pass'd,
Dispensing death, and drove the furious blaft;
Nor bade Destruction give her revels o'er,
Till the gorg’d sword was drunk with human gore.
But what avails thee, pious prince; in vain
Thy sceptre rescu'd, and th’ Assyrian sain!
E'en now the soul maintains her latest strife,
And Death's chill grafp congeals the fount of life,
Yet see, kind Heaven renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen summers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding fun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Tho' Nature her inverted course forego,
The day forget to reft, the time to flow,
Yet shall Jehovah's servants stand secure,
His mercy fix'd, eternal fall endure ;
On them her ever-healing rays shall shine;
More mild, and bright, and sure, O fun! than thine.

At length, the long-expected prince behold!
The last good king, in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar spoke his future fame,
Rent to it's bafe at good Josiah's name.

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Blest, happy prince ! o'er whofe lamented urn,
In plaintive song, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom sad Sion's softest sorrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his sweet melodious woes,

But now fall’n Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in duft, abandon'd, desolate ;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguish tears her with convulsive fighs.
The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain ;
Her hands, that rankle with the servile chain ;
Till he, great chief ! in Heaven's appointed time,
Leads back her children to their native clime.
Fair Liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envy'd walls securely rise.
And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again shall lift sublime thy facred head :
But ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint resemblance of the old in you.
No more th’ effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful answers from the mystick cloud ;
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine,
And Heaven has left thy folitary shrine :
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter salt thou see
Presence immediate of the Deity,
The light himself reveal'd, the God confess'd in thee!

And now, at length, the fated term of years
The world's defire have brought; and lo! the God appears.
The heavenly babe the Virgin Mother bears,
And her fond looks confess the parent's cares ;
The pleasing burden on her breast she lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a smile surveys.
The infant smiles, to her fond bosom press’d,
And wantons, sportive, on the mother's breaft:

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