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A radiant glory speaks him all divine,
And in the child the beams of Godhead fhine!
But now, alas! får other views disclose
The blackest comprehenfive fcene of woes.
See where man's voluntary facrifice
Bows his meek head, and God Eternal dies!
Fix'd to the cross, his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy ftreams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life-exhaufting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the stubborn foul!
As all death's tortures, with fevere delay,
Exult and riot in the noblest prey! ·
And can't thou, stupid man, those forrows fee,
Nor share the anguish which he bears for thee?
Thy fin, for which his facred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn ;
Can't thou?-while Nature smarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the sympathetick ground!
Lo! the black fun, his chariot backward driven,
Blots out the day, and perishes from Heaven:
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part.
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart;
The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign,
And the cold clay-clad dead start into life again.
And thou, O tomb, once more shalt wide display
Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey :
Thou, groaning earth, shalt heave, absorpt in flame,
As the last pangs convulfe thy labouring frame;
When the fame God unfhrouded thou fhalt fee,
Wrapt in full blaze of power and majesty,
Ride on the clouds; whilft, as his chariot flies,
The bright effufion ftreams thro' all the skies.
Then shall the proud diffolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow:
The molten deluge round the globe shall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.
Then fhall the splendours of th' enliven'd glass
Şink undiftinguifh'd in the burning mafs.
And O! till earth and feas, and heaven decay,
Ne'er may that fair creation fade away;
May winds and storms those beauteous colours fpare,
Still may they bloom, as permanent as fair;
All the vain rage of wafting time repel,
And his tribunal fee, whofe crofs they paint fo well!
HAT! tho' thou com'ft in fable mantle clad,
Yet, Winter! art thou welcome to my eye; Thee here I hail, tho' terrors round thee wait, And winds tempeftuous howl along the sky.
But fhall I then fo foon forget the days,
When Ceres led me thro' her wheaten mines; When Autumn pluck'd me, with his tawny hand, Empurpled clusters from ambrofial vines!
So foon forget, when up the yielding pole
I faw afcend the filver-bearded hop;
When Summer, waving high her crown of hay,
Pour'd o'er the mead her odorif'rous crop !
I must forget them; and thee too, O Spring!
Tho' many a chaplet thou haft weav'd for me:
For now, prepar'd to quit th' enchanting scene,
Cold, weeping Winter! I come all to thee.
Hail to thy rolling clouds, and rapid ftorms!
Tho' they deform fair Nature's lovely face: Hail to thy winds, that fweep along the earth! Tho' trees they root up from their solid base.
How ficklied over is the face of things!
Where is the fpice-kiss of the southern gale! Where the wild rofe, that fmil'd upon the thorn, The mountain flow'r, and lily of the vale!
How gloomy 'tis to caft the eye around,
And view the trees difrob'd of ev'ry leaf;
The velvet path grown rough with clotting fhow'rs,
And ev'ry field depriv'd of ev'ry fheaf!
How far more gloomy, o'er the rain-beat heath,
Alone to travel in the dead of night!
No twinkling star to gild the arch of heav'n,
No moon to lend her temporary light:
To fee the lightning fpread it's ample sheet,
And view the wild wafte thro' its liquid fire,
To hear the thunder rend the troubled air,
As Time itfelf and Nature would expire.
And yet, O Winter! has thy poet feen
Thy face as fmooth, and placid as the Spring; Has felt, with comfort felt the beam of heav'n, And heard thy vallies and thy woodlands ring;
What time the Sun with burnish'd locks arose,
The long-loft charms of Nature to renew,
When pearls of ice bedeck'd the graffy turf,
And tree-tops floated in the filver-dew.
Father of heav'n and earth! this change is thine t
By thee the feafons in gradation roll;
Thou great Omniscient Ruler of the world!
Thou Alpha and Omega of the whole !
Here humbly bow we down our heads to thee;
'Tis ours the voice of gratitude to raise :
Thine to diffuse thy bleffings o'er the land;
Thine to receive the incenfe of our praise !
Pure if it rifes from the confcious heart,
With thee for ever does the symbol live-
Tho' fmall for all thy love is man's return,
Thou afk'ft no more than he has pow'r to give.
URN, gentle Hermit of the dale,
• And guide my lonely way
< To where yon taper chears the vale
• With hofpitable ray.
For here forlorn and loft I tread,
With fainting steps and flow;
• Where wilds, immeafurably fpread,
Seem length'ning as I go."
Forbear, my fon,' the Hermit cries,
To tempt the dang'rous gloom;
For yonder phantom only flies.
To lure thee to thy doom. col.
Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
• All earth-born cares are wrong:
* Man wants but little here below, • Nor wants that little long.'
Soft as the dew from heaven defcends,
His gentle accents fell:
The modest stranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obfcure
The lonely mansion lay;
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,
And ftrangers led astray.