ASKING LEAVE TO SING. ET, mighty God, indulge my tongue, YET Nor let thy thunders roar, Whilft the young notes and venturous fong If thou my daring flight forbid, Her flender reed, infpir'd by thee, She mocks the trumpet's loud alarms, But when the taftes her Saviour's love, Aims at a sweeter fong. DIVINE JUDGMENT S. NOT from the duft my forrows fpring, Nor drop my comforts from the lower skies! Their mingled curfes on my head, How vain their curfes, if th' Eternal King Are but his flaves, and must obey; They wait their orders from above, 'Tis by a warrant from his hand The gentler gales are bound to fleep : Old Boreas with his freezing powers Turns the earth iron, makes the ocean glafs, And chains them moveless to their fhores The grazing ox lows to the gelid skies, Walks o'er the marble meads with withering eyes, Walks o'er the folid lakes, fnuffs up the wind, and dies. Fly to the polar world, my fong, And mourn the pilgrims there, (a wretched throng!) A troop of statues on the Ruffian plains, God God has a thousand terrors in his name, Waiting the fignal of his hand, And magazines of frost, and magazines of flame. Drefs thee in steel to meet his wrath; His fharp artillery from the North hall pierce thee to the foul, and shake thy mortal frame. Sublime on Winter's rugged wings He rides in arms along the sky, And flocks and herds, and nations die; The mischiefs that infeft the earth, Are but the flashes of a wrathful eye In vain our parching palates thirst, or vital food in vain we cry, And pant for vital breath; The verdant fields are burnt to duft, And all the air is death. Ye fcourges of our Maker's rod, Tis at his dread command, at his imperial nod, 5 Hail, Hail, whirlwinds, hurricanes, and floods, And bear down with a mighty sweep The riches of the fields, and honours of the woods; And bury millions in the waves; Earthquakes, that in midnight fleep Turn cities into heaps, and make our beds our graves While you difpense your mortal harms, 'Tis the Creator's voice that founds your loud alarms; When guilt with louder cries provokes a God to arms. O for a meflage from above To bear my fpirits up! Some pledge of my Creator's love To calm my terrors and fupport my hope! Let waves and thunders mix and roar, I fhall be rich till thou art poor; : For all I fear, and all I wish, Heaven, Earth, and Hell are thine. EARTH AND HEAVEN.. HAST thou not feen, impatient boy? Haft thou not read the folemn truth, That grey experience writes for giddy youth Pleasure -EX th Pleasure must be dash'd with pain: And yet, with heedlefs hafte, The thirsty boy repeats the taste, Nor hearkens to defpair, but tries the bowl again. The rills of pleasure never run fincere : (Earth has no unpolluted spring) From the curs'd foil some dangerous taint they bear; So rofes grow on thorns, and honey wears a fting. In vain we seek a Heaven below the sky; The world has falfe, but flattering, charms: Its diftant joys fhow big in our esteem, But leffen ftill as they draw near the eye; In our embrace the vifions die, Earth, with her fcenes of gay delight, But bring the naufeous daubing nigh, Look up, my foul, pant tow'rd th' eternal hills; There pleasures all fincere glide on in crystal rills, Nor grief disturbs the stream. |