XII.

Ye days and nights, that swiftly borne

From morn to eve, from eve to morn,

Alternate glide away;

Praise him, whose never varying light,
Absent, adds horror to the night,

But present, gives the day.

XIII.

Light-from whose rays all beauty springs :
Darkness-whose wide expanded wings
Involve the dusky globe;

Praise him, who, when the heavens he spread,
Darkness his thick pavilion made,
And light his regal robe.

XIV.

Praise him, ye lightnings, as ye fly,

Wing'd with his vengeance through the sky, And red with wrath divine;

Praise him, ye clouds, that wandering stray, Or, fix'd by him in close array,

Surround his awful shrine.

XXV.

Exalt, O earth! thy heavenly King,

Who bids the plants, that form the spring,

With annual verdure bloom;

Whose frequent drops of kindly rain,
Prolific swell the ripening grain,

And bless thy fertile womb.

XVI.

Ye mountains, that ambitious rise,

And heave your summits to the skies,
Revere his awful nod;

Think how ye once affrighted fled,
When Jordan sought his fountain head,
And own'd th' approaching God.

XVII.

Ye trees, that fill the rural scene,

Ye flowers, that o'er th' enamell'd green,

In native beauty reign,

O! praise the ruler of the skies,

Whose hand the genial sap supplies,
And clothes the smiling plain.

XVIII.

Ye secret springs, ye gentle rills,
That murmuring rise among the hills,
Or fill the humble vale;

Praise him, at whose almighty nod
The rugged rock dissolving flow'd,
And form'd a springing well.

XIX.

Praise him, ye floods, and seas profound,
Whose waves the spacious earth surround,...
And roll from shore to shore;
Awed by his voice, ye seas, subside,
Ye floods, within your channels glide,
And tremble and adore.

XX

Ye whales, that stir the boiling deep,
Or in its dark recesses sleepy

Remote from human eye;

Praise him, by whom y

-ye all are fed,

Praise him, without whose heavenly aid,

Ye languish, faint, and die.

XXI.

Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name,

Begin, and with th' important theme
Your artless lays improve;

Wake with your songs the rising day,
Let music sound on every spray,

And fill the vocal grove.

XXII.

Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam
Amid the solitary gloom,

Th' expected prey to seize;
Ye slaves of the laborious plow,
Your stubborn necks submissive bow,
And bend your wearied knees.

XXIII.

Ye sons of men, his praise display,
Who stamp'd his image on your clay,
And gave it power to move;

Ye, that in Judah's confines dwell,
From age to age successive tell

The wonders of his love.

XXIV.

Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong,

Till angels listen to the song,

And bend attentive down; Let wonder seize the heavenly train, Pleased, while they hear a mortal strain, So sweet, so like their own.

XXV.

And you, your thankful voices join,
That oft, at Salem's sacred shrine,
Before his altars kneel;

Where, throned in majesty he dwells,

And from the mystic cloud reveals

The dictates of his will.

XXVI.

Ye spirits of the just and good,
That, eager for the blest abode,

To heavenly mansions soar;
O! let your songs his praise display,
Till heaven itself shall melt away,
And time shall be no more.

XXVII.

Praise him, ye meek and humble train,
Ye saints, whom his decrees ordain
The boundless bliss to share ;
O! praise him, till ye take your way
To regions of eternal day,

And reign for ever there.

XXVIII.

Let us, who now impassive stand,

Awed by the tyrant's stern command, Amid the fiery blaze;

While thus we triumph in the flame, Rise, and our Maker's love proclaim, In hymns of endless praise.

THE SPLENDID SHILLING.

BY JOHN PHILLIPS.

26

Sing, heavenly Muse!

Things unattempted yet, in prose or rhyme;"
A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire.

HAPPY the man, who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse, retains

A Splendid Shilling; he nor hears with pain
New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale;
But, with his friends, when nightly mists arise,
To Juniper's Magpye, or Town-hall,* repairs:
Where, mindful of the nymph whose wanton eye
Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames,
Chloe, or Phyllis, in each circling glass
Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love.
Meanwhile he smokes, and laughs at merry tale,
Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint.
But I, whom griping penury surrounds,
And hunger, sure attendant upon want,
With scanty offals and small acid tiff
(Wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain:
Then solitary walk, or doze at home
In garret vile, and with a warming puff
Regale chill'd fingers; or from tube as black
As winter chimney, or well polish'd jet,
Exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent:

* Two Ale-houses.