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No figh, no murmur the wide world shall hear,
From ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear.

In adamantine chains fhall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
As the good fhepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks fresheft pafture, and the pureft air,
Explores the loft, the wandering sheep directs,
By day o'erfees them, and by night protects ;
The tender lambs he raifes in his arms,

Feeds from his hand, and in his bofom warms;
Thus fhall mankind his gaurdian care engage,
The promis'd father of the future age.
No more fhall nation against nation rife,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes;
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But ufelefs lances into fcythes fhall bend,
And the broad faulchion in a plow-share end;
Then palaces hall rife; the joyful fon
Shall finish what his fhort-liv'd fire begun;

Their vines a fhadow to their race fhall yield,

And the fame hand that fow'd, fhall reap the field.
The fwain in barren deferts with surprize

Sees lilies fpring, and fudden verdure rife;
And ftarts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murm'ring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulruth nods.

Wafte fandy vallies, once perplex'd with thorn,
The fpiry fir and shapely box adorn :

To leaflefs fhrubs the flow'ring palms fucceed,
And od'rous myrtle to the noisome weed.

The lambs with wolves fhall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead;

The steer and lion at one crib fhall meet,
And harmless ferpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The fmiling infant in his hand fhall take
The crefted bafilisk and speckled snake,
Pleas'd, the green luftre of the scales furvey,
And with their forky tongue shall innocently play."
Rife, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rife!
Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long race thy fpacious courts adorn;
See future fons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on ev'ry fide arife,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barb'rous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
See thy bright altars throng'd with proftrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabæan springs !
For thee Idume's fpicy forefts blow,

And feeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heav'n its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day !
No more the rifing fun fhall gild the morn,
Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her filver horn;

But loft, diffolv'd in thy fuperior rays,

One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze

O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself fhall fhine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!

The feas fhall wafte, the fkies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to duft, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd his word, his faving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lafts, thy own Meffiah reigns!

AN INQUIRY

AFTER HAPPINESS.

BY MISS CARTE

THE midnight moon ferenely fmiles,

O'er nature's foft repose;

No low'ring cloud obfcures the fky,
Nor ruffling tempeft blows.

Now ev'ry paffion finks to rest,
The throbing heart lies ftill;
And varying schemes of life no more
Distract the lab'ring will.

In filence hush'd, to reafon's voice,

Attends each mental pow'r:

Come, dear Emilia, and enjoy
Reflection's fav'rite hour.

R.

Come; while the peaceful scene invites,
Let's fearch this ample round,
Where shall the lovely fleeting form
Of Happiness be found?

Does it amidst the frolic mirth
Of gay affemblies dwell?

Or hide beneath the folemn gloom,
That fhades the hermit's cell ?

How oft the laughing brow of joy
A fick'ning heart conceals!

And through the cloister's deep recess,
Invading forrow steals.

In vain through beauty, fortune, wit,

The fugitive we trace;

It dwells not in the faithlefs fmile,
That brightens Clodio's face.

Perhaps the joy to these deny'd,
The heart in friendship finds:

Ah! dear delufion, gay conceit
Of vifionary minds!

Howe'er our varying notions rove,

Yet all agree in one,

To place its being in fome state,

At distance from our own.

O blind to each indulgent aim,

Of pow'r fupremely wife, Who fancy Happiness in ought The hand of Heav'n denies!

Vain is alike the joys we feek,
And vain what we poffefs,
Unless harmonious reafon tunes
The paffions into peace.

To temper'd wishes, just desires,
Is Happiness confin'd;

And deaf to Folly's call, attends

The mufic of the mind.

WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT.

IN A

THUNDER STOR M.

BY THE SAME.

LET coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,

To fhelt'ring caverns fly,

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And justly dread the vengeful fate,

That thunders through the fky.

Protected by that Hand, whofe law
The threat'ning ftorms obey,

Intrepid Virtue smiles fecure,

As in the blaze of day.

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