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Whofe coming who shall tell? For as a thief
Unheard, unfeen, it fteals with filent pace [I fit,
Through night's dark gloom-Perhaps as here
And rudely carol these incondite lays, [mouth
Soon thail the hand be check'd, and dumb the
That lifps the fait ring ftrain.- may it ne'er
Intrude unwelcome on an ill-fpent hour;
But find me wrapt in meditations high,
Hymning my great Creator!-

"Pow'r Supreme!

"O o'erlasting King! to thee I kneel,
"To thee I lift my voice. With fervent heat
"Melt, all ye elements! And thou high heav'n.
"Shrink like a fhrivell'd feroll! Butthink,OLord,
"Think on the best, the nobleft of thy works;
"Think on thine own bright image! Think on
"him

"Who died to fave us from thy righteous wrath;

"And'midft the wreck ofworldsrememberman!'

§ 52. HYMNS. By Mrs. Barbauld.
Quid prius dicam folitis Parentis
Laudibus qui res hominum ac deorum,
Qui mare ac terras, variifque mundum
Temperat horis ?"

HYMN I.

HORAT.

JEHOVAH reigns: let ev'ry nation hear,
And at his footstool bow with holy fear;
Let Heav'ns high arches echo with his name,
And the wide peopled earth his praife proclaim;
Then fend it down to hell's deep glooms re-
founding,
Thro' all her caves in dreadful murmurs found-
[ing.
He rules with wide and abfolute command
O'er the broad ocean and the ftedfaft land:
Jehovah reigns, unbounded and alone,
And all creation hangs beneath his throne:
He reigns alone; let no inferior nature
Ufurp or fhare the throne of the Creator.

At length fhe rofe complete in finish'd pride
All fair and fpotlets, like a virgin bride:
Fresh with untarnish'd luftre as the flood,
The morning stars, with joyful acclamation,
HerMaker blefs'd his work, and call'd it good
Exulting fung, and hail'd the new creation.

Yet this fair world, the creature of a day,
Tho' built by God's right hand, must pa

away;

And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things,
Eternal night fhall veil their proudest story,
The fate of empires, and the pride of kings
And drop the curtain o'er all human glory.

The fun himself, with weary clouds oppreft,
Shall in his filent, dark pavilion reft:
The itars rufh headlong in the wild commotio
His golden urn fhall broke and useless lie,
Amidst the common ruins of the sky!
And bathe their glitt'ring foreheads in the ocea
But fix'd, O God! for ever stands thy throne
Jehovah reigns, a univerfe alone;
Th' eternal fire that feeds each vital flame,
Collected or diffus'd, is still the fame.
He dwells within his own unfathom'd effence
And fills all space with his unbounded prefenc
But oh! our highest notes the theme debase,
And filence is our leaft injurious praife: [trou
Ceafe, ceafe your fongs, the daring flight cor
With filent duty meekly bend before him,
Revere him in the ftillness of the foul;
And deep within your inmoft hearts adore hin

HYMN II.

PRAISE to God, immortal praise",
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous fource of every joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ;
For the ftores the gardens yield,
For the bleffings of the field,
For the vine's exalted juice,
For the gen'rous olive's use;
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow fheaves of ripen'd grain,
Clouds that drop their fatt'ning dews,
Suns that temp'rate warmth diffuse;

He faw the struggling beams of infant light
Shoot thro' the mafly gloom of ancient night;
His fpirit hush'd the elemental ftrife,
And brooded o'er the kindling feeds of life:
Seafons and months began the long proceffion,
And measur'd o'er the year in bright fucceffion.
The joyful fun fprung up th' ethereal way,
Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay;
And the pale moon diffus'd her shadowy light All that Spring with bounteous hand
Superior o'er the dufky brow of night; [ing, Scatters o'er the fmiling land;
Ten thousand glitt'ring lamps the skies adorn- All that lib'ral Autumn pours
Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of From her rich o'erflowing ftores:

morning.

Earth's blooming face with rifing flow'rs he drefs'd,

Thefe to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our bleffings flow;
Grateful vows and folemn praise.
And for thefe my foul shall raise

And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breaft;
Then from the hollow of his hand he pours
The circling waters round her winding thores, Yet, fhould rifing whirlwinds tear
The new-born world in their cool arins em- From its ftem the rip'ning ear;
Should the fig tree's blasted fhoot

bracing,

And with foft murmurs still her banks careffing. Drop her green untimely fruit;

Although the fig tree shall not bloffom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labour of the olive shal fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, the focks fhall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no ter in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my falvation.

HABARRYK, H. 17. 18.

Should

Should the vine put forth no more, or the olive yield her store;

Though the fick ning flocks thould fall,
And the herds defert the stall;

Should thine alter'd hand restrain
The early and the latter rain;
Bat each op'ning bud of joy,
And the ring year destroy;
Yet to the my foul should raise
Grate rows, and folemn praise;
And, warn ev'ry blething's flown,
Love thre-for thyfelf alone.

HYMM 111.

For Eafter-Sunday.
Acars the Lord of life and light
Awakes the kindling ray;
Cafeals the eyelids of the morn,
And pours increasing day.

O what a night was that which wrapt
The heathen world in gloom!
✪ what a fun which broke this day,
amphant from the tomb!

This day he grateful homage paid,
And cannas fung;
Legatzes dwell in ev'ry heart,
And praise on ev'ry tongue.
Tea the and diff'ring lips fhall join
Tthis welcome morn;
Watters bleifings from its wings
Te nations yet unborn.

the end of human kind,
W compaflion mov`d,
Descesse a pitying God,
Tove the fouls he lov'd.

Tep of darkness leagu`d in vain
Ts foul in death;
Hek their kingdom, when he fell,
Watts expiring breath.
Noting the toils of hell could keep
The hope of Judah's line;
Con never could take hold
Caught fo much divine.
Androw his conqu`ring chariot wheels
Add the lofty fkies;
Waroke, beneath his pow'rful cross,
Death's iron fceptre lies.

Fed high at God's right hand,
And Lord of all below,
This pard'ning love dispens'd,
And boundless bleflings flow.
And for erring, guilty man
Aher's pity flows;

And his bleeding heart is touch'd
W nem'ry of our woes.
To thee, my Saviour and my King,
Glad homage let me give;
And fand prepar'd like thee to die,
With thee that I may livę,

HYMN IV.

BEHOLD where, breathing love divine,
Our dying Mafter stands!

His weeping followers gath'ring round
Receive his last commands,

From that mild Teacher's parting lip
What tender accents fell!

The gentle precept which he gave
Became its author well:

"Blefs'd is the man whose soft'ning heart "Feels all another's pain:

"To whom the fupplicating eye "Was never rais'd in vain;

"Whose breaft expands with gen'rous warmth "A ftranger's woes to feel:

"And bleeds in pity o'er the wound
"He wants the pow'r to heal,
"He fpreads his kind fupporting arms
"To ev'ry child of grief,

"His fecret bounty largely flows,
"And brings unafk'd relief,

"To gentle offices of love

"His feet are never flow;
"He views, thro' mercy's melting eye,
"A brother in a foe.

"Peace from the bofom of his God,
"My peace to him I give!
"And when he kneels before the throne,
"His trembling foul fhall live.
"To him protection shall be shewn,
"And mercy from above
"Defcend on those who thus fulfil
"The perfect law of love."

HYMN V.

AWAKE, my foul! lift up thine eyes,
See where thy foes against thee rife,
In long array, a num’rous host;
Awake, my soul, or thou art lost.
Here giant Danger threat'ning ftands
Muft'ring his pale terrific bands;
There Pleasure's filken banners spread,
And willing fouls are captive led..
See where rebellious paffions rage,
And fierce defires and lufts, engage;
The meanest foe of all the train
Has thousands and ten thousands flain,
Thou tread'ft upon enchanted ground,
Perils and fnares befet thee round;
Beware of all, guard ev'ry part,
But moft the traitor in thy heart.
Come then, my foul, now learn to wield
The weight of thine immortal shield;
Put on the armour from above
Of heav'nly truth and heav'nly love.
The terror and the charm repel,
And pow'rs of earth, and pow'rs of hell
The man of Calvary triumph'd here;
Why should his faithful followers fear a

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$53. An Address to the Deity.
Mrs. Barbauld.

Deus eft quodcunque vides, quocunque moveris.
LUCAN.

GOD of my life, and author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lifp thy praise;
And trembling take upon a mortal tongue
That hallow'd name to harps of Seraphs fung.
Yet here the brightest Seraphs could no more
Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore.
Worms, angels, men, in ev'ry diff'rent fphere,
Are equal all, for all are nothing here.
All Nature faints beneath the mighty name,
Which Nature's works, thro' all her parts, pro-
claim.

I feel that name my inmoft thoughts controul,
And breathe an awful ftillnefs thro' my foul;
As by a charm, the waves of grief subside;
Impetuous paffion ftops her headlong tide:
At thy felt prefence all emotions ceafe,
And my huth'd fpirit finds a fudden peace,
Till ev'ry worldly thought within me dies,
And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes,
Till all my fenfe is loft in infinite,
And one vaft object fills my aching fight.

But foon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My foul fubmits to wear her wonted yoke;
With fhackled pinions ftrives to foar in vain,
And mingles with the drofs of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is duft.
His fpirit, ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclin'd;
Marks the young dawn of ev'ry virtuous aim,
And fans the fmoaking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the fofteft cry,
His grace defcends to meet the lifted eye;
He reads the language of a filent tear,
And fighs are incenfe from a heart fincere.
Such are the vows, the facrifice I give:
Accept the vow, and bid the fuppliant live:
From each terreftrial bondage fet me free;
Still ev'ry with that centers not in thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain difquiets cease,
And point my path to everlafting peace.

If the foft hand of winning pleasure leads
By living waters, and thro' dow'ry meads,
When all is fmiling, tranquil and ferene,
And vernal beauty paints the flatt'ring fcene,
Oh! teach me to elude each latent fnare,
And whifper to my fliding heart-Beware!
With caution let me hear the Syren's voice,
And doubtful, with a trembling heart rejoice.
If friendlefs in a vale of tears I stray,
Where briers wound, and thorns perplex my
[way,
Still let my fteady foul thy goodness fee,
And with strong confidence, lay hold on thee;
With equal eye my various lot receive,
Refign'd to die, or refolute to live;
Prepar'd to ifs the fceptre or the rod,
While God is feen in all, and all in God.

I read his awful name emblazon'd high
With golden letters on th' illumin'd fky.

Nor lefs the mystic characters I fee
Wrought in each flow'r, infcrib'd on ev'ry tree
In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze
I hear the voice of God among the trees;
With thee in fhady folitudes I walk
With thee in bufy crowded cities talk;
In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r,
In each event thy providence adore.
Thy hopes thall animate my drooping foul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controu
Thus fhall I reft unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms,
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free
And feel myself omnipotent in thee.
Then,when the laft, the clofing hour draws nigh
And earth recedes before my fwimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
1 ftand, and fretch my view to either state,
Teach me to quit this tranfitory scene
With decent triumph and a look ferene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.

$54. A Summer Evening's Meditation.

Mrs. Barbauld.

One fun by day, by night ten thousand shine.
YOUNG.

Has ipent his fhort-liv'd rage: more gratefu
'Tis paft! the fultry tyrant of the south

hours

Move filent on: the skies no more repel
The dazzled fight; but,with inild maiden beam
Of temper'd light, invite the cherish'd eye
To wander o'er their sphere; where hung alof
Dian's bright crefcent, like a filver bow
New ftrung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns
Impatient for the night, and seems to push
Her brother down the fky. Fair Venus fhines
Ev'n in the eye of day; with sweetest beam
Propitious thines, and shakes a trembling flood
Of foften'd radiance from her dewy locks.
The fhadows fpread apace; while meeken'd Eve,
Her cheek yet warm with blushes, flow retires
Thro' the flefperian gardens of the west,
And thuts the gates of day. 'Tis now the hour
When Comtemplation, from her funless haunts,
The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth
Of unpierc'd woods, were wrapt in filent shade,
She mus d away the gaudy hours of noon,
And fed on thoughts unripen'd by the fun,
Moves forward; and with radiant finger points
To yon blue concave fwell'd by breath divine,
Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven
Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of ather
One boundlefs blaze; ten thoufand trembling

fires,

And dancing luftres, where the unsteady eye,
Reflefs and dazzled, wanders unconfin'd
O'er all this field of glories: fpacious field,
And worthy of the mafter: he whofe hand,
With hieroglyphics elder than the Nile,
Infcrib'd the mystic tablet; bung on high
To public grace; and frid, Adore, O man,
The finger of thy God! From what pure wells

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Of milk ight, what foft o'erflowing urn.
Aramps fo fill'd thefe friendly lamps,
For ever rearing o'er the azure deep
To point our path and light us to our home.
Ex xet they flide along their lucid spheres!
Acd, Jent as the foot of time, fulfil
Their tein'd courfes: Nature's felf is huth'd,
And, at a scatter'd leaf which ruftles thro'
The Lack-wove foliage, not a found is heard
Toak the midnight air; tho' the rais'd ear,
Irtensery Frizing, drinks in ev'ry breath.
How deep the filence, yet how loud the praise!
But are they sent all? or is there not
A tongue in ev'ry ftar that talks with man,
Ascos im to be wife? nor woos in vain :
The dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And whom mounts her zenith with the ftars.
At this hour the felf-collected foul
Toward and beholds a stranger there
Grig. defcent, and more than mortal rank;
Araya God; a fpark of fire divine,
Which mu burn on for ages, when the fun
Gatory creature of a day)
Et s'aus golden eye, and wrapt in fhades,
iness woated journey thro' the east.

Ye calls of light, and feats of Gods!
Pure home, from whence the foul,
Rer ring periods paft, may oft look back,
Wendected tenderness, on all
The rares: buty scenes the left below,
Its dep-laal projects and its strange events,
Aven me fond and doting tale that footh'd
Heart hours-O be it lawful now
Tomas the ballow'd circle of your courts,
Arwah mute wonder and delighted awe
Any uch your burning confines!-Seiz'd in
On tiny cat and roving wing I fail [thought.
Frur the green borders of the peopled earth,
As the rale moon, her duteous fair attendant?
From my Mars; from the vaft orb
Of pater, whofe huge gigantic bulk
Daces in ether like the lightest leaf;
To the cim verge, the fuburbs of the fyftem,
Where cheeriefs Saturn 'midst his wat'ry moons,
(wh a lucid zoue, in gloomy pomp,

ke an exil'd monarch: fearless thence
a mto the trackless deeps of space,
turning round,tenthousand funs appear,
Over hear; which ask no leave to shine
Co terrestrial star, nor borrow light
Fate proud regent of our fcanty day;

of the morning, first-born of creation, And on viefs than him who marks their track, Agdestheir fiery wheels. Here mult I ftop, aught beyond? What hand unseen me onward thro' the glowing orbs Carable nature, far remote, To the ad confines of eternal night, Totes of valt unpeopled space, The deers of creation, wide and wild, Waere embryo fyitems and unkindled funs

in the womb of chaos? Fancy droos, And thought aftonish'd itops her bold career. Butch thou mightyMind! whofe pow'rful word

Said, Thus let all things be, and thus they were,
Where fhall I feek thy prefence? how unblam'd
Invoke thy dread perfection?-

Have the broad eyelids of the morn beheld thee?
Or does the beamy fhoulder of Orion
Support thy throne! O look with pity down
On erring, guilty man! not in thy names
Of terror clad; not with those thunders arm'd
That confcious Sinai felt, when fear appall'd
The scatter'd tribes! Thou haft a gentler voice
That whispers comfort to the swelling heart,
Abash'd, yet longing to behold her Maker.

But now my foul,unus'd to ftretch her pow'rs
In flights fo daring, drops her weary wing,
And feeks again the known accustom'd spot,
Dreft up with fun, and fhade, and lawns, and
A manfion fair andfpacious forits gueft, [ftreams;
And full replete with wonders. Let me here,
Content and grateful, wait the appointed time,
And ripen for the skies; the hour will come
When all thefe fplendours burtting on my fight
Shall ftand unveil'd, and to my ravish'd fenfe
Unlock the glories of the world unknown.

$55 Hymn to Content. Mrs. Barbauld.

-natura beatos

Omnibus effe decit, fi quis cognoverit uti. CLAUD,
O THOU, the Nymph with placid eye!
O feldom found, yet ever nigh!

Receive my temp'rate vow:
Not all the ftorms that thake the pole,
Can e'er difturb thy halcyon foul,

And smooth unalter'd brow.
O come, in fimple vest array'd,
With all thy fober cheer difplay'd,

Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace,
To blefs my longing fight;
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,
And chalte fubdu'd delight.
No more by varying paffions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet

Where in fome pure and equal sky
To find thy hermit cell;
Beneath thy foft indulgent eye

The modeft virtues dwell.
Simplicity in Attic vest,
And Innocence with candid breast,
And clear undaunted eye;
And Hope, who points to diftant years,
Fair op'ning thro' this vale of tears
A vifta to the sky.

There Health, thro' whofe calm bosom glide
The temp'iate joys in even tide,

That rarely ebb or flow;
And patience there, thy fifter meek,
Prefents her mild unvarying cheek
To meet the offer'd blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian fage
A tyrant's master's wanton rage

With fettied fmiles to meet;
nur'd to toli and bitter bread,
lie bow'd his meek fubmitted head,
And kiss'd thy fainted feet,
E

But

But thou, O Nymph, retir'd and coy!
In what brown hamlet doft thou joy

To tell thy tender tale?
The lowlieft children of the ground,
Mofs-rofe and violet bloffom round,
And lily of the vale.

O fay what foft propitious hour
I beft may choose to hail thy pow'r,
And court thy gentle fway?
When Autumn, friendly to the Mufe,
Shall thy own modeft tints diffuse,
And thed thy milder day:
When Eve, her dewy ftar beneath,
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,
And ev'ry form is laid;

If fuch an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy foothing voice

Low whisp'ring thro' the shade.

$56. To Wildim. Mrs. Barbauld. Doua prafentis rape laetus horæ, ac Linque fevera.

HORAT.

O WISDOM! if thy foft control
Can footh the fickness of the foul,
Can bid the warring paffions cease,
And breathe the calm of tender peace;
Wisdom! I bless thy gentle sway,
And ever, ever will obey.

But if thou com'ft with frown austere
To nurfe the brood of care and fear;
To bid our fweeteft paffions die,
And leave us in their room a figh?
Or if thine afpect ftern have pow'r
To wither each poor tranfient flow'r
That cheers this pilgrimage of woe,
And dry the fprings whence hope should flow
Wildom, thine empire I difclaim,
Thou empty boat of pompous name!
In gloomy thade of cloisters dwell,
But never haunt my cheerful cell.
Hail to pleasure's frolic train !
Hail to fancy's golden reign!
Festive mirth and laughter wild,
Free and spo:tful as the child!
Hope with eager fparkling eyes,
And eafy faith and fond furprife!
Let thefe, in fairy colours dreft,
For ever share my carelefs breast:
Then, tho' wife I may not be,
The wife themselves thall envy me.

$57. Defpond ncy. in Ode. Burns. OPPRESS D with grief, opprefs'd with care, A burden more than I can bear,

I fit me down and figh: O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road,

To wretches fuch as I!

Dim backward as I caft my view,

What fick'ning scenes appear?

What forrows yet may pierce me through,
Too justly I may fear!

Stil caring, defpairing
Muit be my bitter doom;

My woes here fhall close ne'er,

But with the clofing tomb! Happy! ye fons of bufy life, Who, equal to the bustling ftrife, No other view regard!

Ev'n when the wifhed end's denied,
Yet, while the bufy means are plied,
They bring their own reward:
Whilft I, a hope-abandon'd wight,
Unfitted with an aim,

Meet ev'ry fad returning night
And joyless morn the fame.
You, bustling and juftling
Forget each grief and pain;
I, liftless yet restless

Find ev'ry profpect vain.
How bleft the Solitary's lot,
Who ali-forgetting, all-forgot,
Within this humble cell,

The cavern wild with tangling roots,
Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits,
Befide his crystal well!

Or haply to his ev'ning thought,
By unfrequented stream,

The ways of men are distant brought,
A faint-collected dream:

While praifing, and raising

His thoughts to Heav'n on high,
As wand'ring, meand'ring,
He views the folemn fky,

Than I, no lonely Hermit plac'd
Where never human footstep trac'd,
Lefs fit to play the part,
The lucky moment to improve,
And just to stop and just to move,
With felf-refpecting art:

But ah! thofe pleafures, loves, and joys,
Which I too keenly taste,
The Solitary can defpife,
Can want, and yet be bleft!
He needs not, he heeds not,
Or human love or hate;
Whilft I here, must cry here,
At perfidy ingrate!

Oh! enviable early days,

When dancing thoughtlefs Plea fure's maze,
To Care, to Guilt unknown!
How ill exchang'd for riper times,
To feel the follies or the crimes

Of others, or my own!
Ye tiny elves, that guiltless sport
Like linnets in the bush,
Ye little know the ills ye court,
When manhood is your with!
The loffes, the croifes,

That active man engage;
The fears all, the tears all,
Of dim declining age!

§ 58 The Frailty and Folly of Man. Prior. GREAT Heav'n! how frail thy creature Man

is made!

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