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A radiant glory speaks him all divine,
And in the child the beams of Godhead shine!

But now, alas ! fár other views disclose
The blackest comprehensive scene 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 streams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life-exhausting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the stubborn soul!
As all death's tortures, with severe delay,
Exult and riot in the noblest prey!
And can't thou, stupid man, those forrows see,
Nor share the anguish which he bears for thee?
Thy sin, for which his sacred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn ;
Can'st thou ?-while Nature (marts 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, fhalt heave, absorpt in flame,
As the last pangs convulse thy labouring frame ;
When the same God unshrouded thou shalt see,
Wrapt in full blaze of power and majesty,
Ride on the clouds ; whilft, as his chariot Alies,
The bright effufion streams thro' all the skies.
Then hall the proud dissolving 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

Then fall the splendours of th' enliven'd glass
Sink undistinguifh'd in the burning mass.
And O! till earth and feas, and heaven decay,
Ne'er may that fair ereation fade away ;
May winds and storms those beauteous colours (pare,
Still may they bloom, as permanent as fair ;
All the vain rage of wasting time repel,
And his tribunal fee, whose cross they paint so well!

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WHAT

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 tempestuous howl along the ky.

But thall I then so foon forget the days,

When Ceres led me thro’ her wheaten mines ; When Autumn pluck'd me, with his tawny hand,

Empurpled clusters from ambrosial vines !

So foon forget, when up the yielding pole

I saw ascend the filver-bearded hop;
When Summer, waving high her crown of hay,

Pourd o'er the mead her odorif'rous crop !

I must forget them; and thee too, O Spring!

Thu'many a chaplet thou hast weav'd for me : For now, prepar'd to quit th' enchanting scene,

Gold, weeping Winter! I come all to thee.

Hail to thy rolling clouds, and rapid storms!

Tho' they deform fair Nature's lovely face : Hail to thy winds, that sweep along the earth!

Tho' trees they root up from their solid base.

How ficklied over is the face of things !

Where is the spice-kiss of the southern gale! Where the wild rose, that smild upon the thorn,

The mountain flow'r, and lily of the vale !

How gloomy 'tis to cast 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 sheaf!

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 see the lightning spread it's ample theet,

And view the wild waste thro' its liquid fire, To hear the thunder rend the troubled air,

As Time itself and Nature would expire.

And yet, O Winter ! has thy poet seen

Thy face as smooth, 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 burnith'd locks arose,

The long-lost charms of Nature to renew, When pearls of ice bedeck'd the graffy turf,

And tree-tops floated in the filver-dew.

Father Father of heav'n and earth! this change is thine :

By thee the seasons 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 blessings o'er the land;

Thine to receive the incense of our praise !

Pure if it rises from the conscious heart,

With thee for ever does the symbol liveTho'small for all thy love is man's return,

Thou ak'st no more than he has pow'r to give.

THE “ HERMIT.

BY DR. GOLDSMITH.

'TUR

URN, gentle Hermit of the dale,

And guide my lonely way < To where yon taper chears the vale

• With hofpitable ray...

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• Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forėgo ;

• All earth-born cares are wrong: * Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long.'

Soft as the dew from heaven descends,

His gentle accents fell :
The modeft stranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell:

Far in a wilderness obfcure

The lonely manfion lay;
A refuge to the neighb’ring poor,

And strangers led aftray.

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