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And every nameless grace; the parted lip,
Like the red rose-bud moist with morning dew,
Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet,
Or sunny ringlets, or of circling brown,

The necks light-shaded, and the swelling breast;
The look resistless, piercing to the soul,
And by the soul inform'd, when drest in love
She sits high smiling in the conscious eye.
Island of bliss! amid the subject seas,
That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up,
At once the wonder, terror, and delight
Of distant nations, whose remotest shores
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm;
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea wave.

O thou! by whose Almighty nod, the scale
Of empire rises, or alternate falls,

Send forth thy saving virtues round the land,
In bright patrol; white Peace, and social Love;
The tender looking Charity, intent

On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles;
Undaunted Truth and Dignity of mind;

Courage compos'd and keen-sound Temperance,
Healthful in heart and look-clear Chastity,
With blushes reddening as she moves along,
Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws—
Rough Industry-Activity untir'd,
With copious life inform'd, and all awake-
While in the radiant front superior shines
That first paternal virtue, Public Zeal-
Who throws o'er all an equal wide survey,
And, ever musing on the common weal,
Still labours glorious with some great design.

XII.-Hymn to the Deity on the Seasons of the Year.
THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year

Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields-the softening air is balm-
Echo the mountains round-the forests smile;
And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Then comes thy glory in the summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year;
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks;
And oft, at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves and hollow whispering gales,
Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that live.
In winter, awful thou! with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown-tempest o'er tempest roll'd:

Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing
Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore,
And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train-
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd-
Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade-
And all so forming a harmonious whole-
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
But, wand'ring oft with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres-
Works in the secret deep-shoots, streaming, thence
The fair profusion that o'er spreads the spring-
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day :
Feeds every creature-hurls the tempest forth :
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.
Nature, attend! join every living soul,
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join-and, ardent, raise

One general song! To him, ye vocal gales,

Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes :
O talk of him in solitary glooms!

Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.

And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,

Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven
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 headlong 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 thyself-

Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.

Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to him, whose sun exalts,

Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave to him:
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams,
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver 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.

Ye thunders roll; be hush'd the prostrate world,
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills: ye mossy rocks
Retain the sound: the broad responsive low,
Ye vallies raise; for the great Shepherd reigns,
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song
Burst from the groves: and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm
The list'ning shades, and teach the night his praise.
Yet chief, for whom the whole creation smiles;
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all:
Crown the great hymn! In swarming cities vast,
Assembled men, to the deep organ join

The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At solemn pauses, through the swelling base;
And as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardour rise to heaven.
Or if you rather choose the rural shade,
And find a fane in every sacred grove-
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams;
Or winter rises in the blackening east ;
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 barb'rous climes, Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me; Since Gon 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 solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing-I cannot go,
Where UNIVERSAL LOVE smiles not around.
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns:
From seeming evil still adducing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression-but I lose
Come then, expressive Silence, muse His praise.
S 2


I.-The Chameleon.

OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
Returning from his finish'd tour,
Grown ten times perter than before:
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travell'd fool your mouth will stop-
"Sir, if my judgment you'll allow-
I've seen and sure I ought to know."
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

Two travellers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass'd,
And on their way, in friendly chat,
Now talk'd of this, and then of that;
Discours'd a while 'mongst other matter,
Of the Chameleon's form and nature.
"A stranger animal," cries one,
"Sure never liv'd beneath the sun!
A lizzard's body, lean and long,
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue,
Its foot with triple claws disjoin'd,
And what a length of tail behind!
How slow its pace! and then its hue-
Who ever saw so fine a blue !"

"Hold there," the other quick replies,
""Tis green: I saw it with these eyes,
As late with open mouth it lay,
And warm'd it in the sunny ray:
Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd,
And saw it eat the air for food."
"I've seen it, Sir, as well as you,
And must again affirm it blue.
At leisure I the beast survey'd,
Extended in the cooling shade."

"Tis green! 'tis green, Sir, I assure ye❞—
"Green!" cries the other, in a fury-
"Why, Sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?"
""Twere no great loss," the friend replies;
"For if they always serve you thus,
You'll find them but of little use."

So high at last the contest rose,
From words they almost came to blows:
When luckily came by a third;
To him the question they referr'd,
And begg'd he'd tell them, if he knew,
Whether the thing was green or blue.

"Sirs," cries the umpire," cease your p The creature's-neither one nor t'other


I caught the animal last night,
And view'd it o'er by candle light:
I mark'd it well-'twas black as jet-
You stare-but, Sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it."-" Pray Sir, do;
I'll lay my life the thing is blue.”—
"And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen
The reptile, you'll pronounce it green."-
"Well then, at once to end the doubt;"
Replies the man, "I'll turn him out;
And when before your eyes I've set him,
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him."
He said then full before their sight
Produc'd the beast-and lo!-'twas white.

II. On the Order of Nature.

SEE, through this air, this ocean, and this earth, All matter quick, and bursting into birth. Above, how high, progressive life may go! Around, how wide! How deep extend below! Vast chain of being! which from God began: Nature's ethereal, human; angel, man; Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see, No glass can reach; from infinite to thee, From thee to nothing. On superior pow'rs Were we to press, inferior might on ours; Or in the full creation leave a void,

Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroy'd
From nature's chain whatever link you strike,
Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.
What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread,

Or hand to toil, aspir'd to be the head?
What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd
To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?
Just as absurd for any part to claim
To be another, in this general frame ;
Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains,
The great directing MIND of ALL, ordains.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul:
That, chang'd through all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame,
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;

Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent ;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect in vile man that mourns,
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:
To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.

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