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Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms,
Where o'er the rock the scarcely waving pine
Fills i he brown shade with a religious awe!
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heav'n
Th’impetuous song, and say from whom you rage.
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ;
And let me catch it as I muse along.
Ye head long torrents, rapid and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyseif,
Sound his ftupendous praise, whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
So roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him, whose pencil paints,
Ye forests bend, ye harvefts wave, to Him ;
Breathe your till song into the reaper's heart,
As bome he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heav'n, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effufe your mildest beams,
Ye conftellations, while your angels ftrike,
Amid the spangled sky, the filver lyre.
Great source of day! best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide..
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On nature write with every beam his praise,

The thunder rolls ; be hush'd the proftrate world
While cloud to cloud returns the folemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh ye hills, ye molly rocks,..
Retain the found: the broad reponsive low,
Ye vallies, raise : for the Great Shepherd reign's
And his unfuftring kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all! awake: a boundless song
Burft from the groves ; and when the restless day,
Expirmg, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweeteft of birds! [weet Philomela! charm
The lift'ning shades, and teach the Night his praise,
Ye, chief, for whom the whole creation Smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn ! in swarming cities vaft,
Asembled men! to the deep organ join
The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At solemn pauses, through the fwelling base,
And as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardour rise to heaven.
Or if you rather chuse the rural fade,
And find a fane in every sacred grove :
There let the lheptherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting Seraph, and the Poet's lyre,
Still fing the God of seasons as they'roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the fummer ray
Ruffets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams
Or Winter rises in the blackening Eaft.

"Be my tongue mute; my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.

Should fate command me to the farthest verge *Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song: where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on th’ Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full;

And where He vital spreads, there must be joy. When even at last the folemn hour shall come, And wing my myftic flight to future worlds, I chearful will obey there with new powers. Will rifing wonderling : I cannot go, Where universal love not smiles around, Sustaining all you orbs, and all their funs ; From seeming evil ftill educing good, And bitter thence again, and better still, In infinite progression.-But I lose Myself in Him, in light ineffable ! Come ther, expressive silence, niuse his, praise.

W IN T E R.

BY THE SAME.

'T'S

VIS done!. dread Winter spreads his latest glooms,

And dreads tremendous o'er the conquer'd year, How dumb the vegetable kingdom 'lies! Huw dead the tuneful! Horror wide extends His desolate domain. Behold, fond mån ! See here thy pi&tur'd life: pass some few years, Thy flow'ring Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, Thy fober Autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, And shuts the scene. 'Ah! whither now are Aed Those dreams of greatness those in folid hopes Of happiness? those longings after fame? Those restless cares? those bufy bustling days? Those gay spent festive nights ? those veering thoughts Loft between good and ill, that shar'd thy life? All now are vanish'd! Virtue fole survives, Immortal never-failing friend of man, His guide to happiness on high. And fee! 'Tis come, the glorious morn! the second birth Of heaven and earth! awak'ning Nature hears The new creating word, and starts to life, In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death For ever free. The great eternal scheme.

Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting as the prospect wider spreads,
To reason's eye refin’d clears up apace.
Ye vainly wise.; ye blind presumptuous! now,
Confounded in the dust, adore that Power
And Wisdom oft arraign'd see now the cause
Why unassuming worth in fecret liv’d,
And dy'd neglected : why the good man's share
In life was gall and bitterness of soul :
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd
In starving solitude; while luxury,
In palaces, lay straining her low thought,
To form unreal wants : why heav'n born truth,
And moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of superstition's scourge : who licens’d pain,
That cruel spoiler, that embosom’d foe,
Imbitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distrest!
Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile,
And what your bounded view, which only saw
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more:
The forms of Winter Time will quickly pass,
And one unbounded Spring encircles all.

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