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In forky trains the winged bolts are hurl'd,
And sweep vindictive through a wasted world.
Peals swell on peals, careering thunders roll,
And wild con.motion shakes the tottering pole.
On Jordan's banks, that swim with native gore,
Rome's black battalions all their fury pour :
Less fierce some eagle through mid ether springs,
The thunder balanced on his sounding wings;
No tears, no prayers, their furious wrath can charm,
Nor age appease, nor innocence disarm.
From east to west the driving tempest pours*,
From plain to plain the whelming deluge roars:
Thy cities fall; the lofty flames aspire,

And God's own temple sinks in floods of fire. Tremendous doom! what shrieks of anguish rise,

What groans of sorrow pierce averted skies!
To distant climes, with devious steps and slow,
The sad survivors of their country's woe
Move silent on, a melancholy train,

Or plead for mercy; but they plead in vain ;
Whilst Superstition spreads her baneful plume,
And Canaan moans beneath the' unhallow'd gloom.
'But lo! the standard waves again unfurl'd †,
And draws around a renovated world;
On Sion's brow the sacred splendours shine,
And earth's far confines hail the welcome sign.
Ye kings, approach and bend the grateful knee ;
Ye Gentiles, share the general jubilee.

At once the east and west, and south and north,
Feel the bright beam and pour their legions forth.
To Salem's courts what gathering crowds ascend,
What prostrate myriads in her temple bend!

Luke xvii. 24.

+ Millennium.

Assembled nations pour the' adoring strain,
Mix voice with voice,and bless the' auspicious reign.
"Worthy the Lamb, for us his blood was given,
The sons of God, the ransom'd heirs of heaven!"
From sea to sea the glowing transports roll,
Shore calls on shore, and pole resounds to pole.
Heroes no more shall urge the thundering car,
Or hurl their vengeance through the ranks of war:
The din is hush'd; the storms of discord cease,
And savage natures harmonize in peace.
The tawny lion, tyrant of the wood,

Forgets to rage, no more athirst for blood.
Fierce wolves and flocks in mild accordance feed,
Drink at one stream, and crop one common mead:
The feather'd minstrels wake the tuneful grove,
And hymn the reign of universal love.

Earth's utmost bounds the swelling concert raise, And seas wide-weltering murmur notes of praise. 'Haste, haste, ye years; on swifter pinions borne,

Speed your glad course, and rise the destined morn :
Bid earth's dark realms with realms celestial vie,
A lower heaven, an image of the sky.

For me a throne of purer radiance waits,
And heaven unfolds her everlasting gates.
Let the last trump its rending terrors sound,
Let pealing thunders shake the vaulted round,
Let stars and skies in liquid flame expire,
And rolling suns dissolve in seas of fire-
High o'er the wreck my soul shall wing her flight,
And soar transported to the realms of light.
Father, I come; no more shall earth delay
The bursting visions of eternal day!

Even now thy beams a sacred life impart,
Rouse my weak frame, and cheer my languid heart.

Even now I mount, I climb the bless'd abode,
Bask in the smiles, and tread the courts of God..
There streams of life in endless glory rise,
Ambrosial fruits and trees of Paradise.

There kings and priests empyreal mansions own,
And circling seraphs guard the burning throne;
My kindred spirit hastes with them to prove
The unmeasured fullness of immortal love;
With angel choirs in prostrate joy to fall,
Heaven my sure home, and God my all in all.'



DEATH's iron slumbers chased, the' expectant tomb
'Reft of its prey, and o'er the clay-cold cheek
Life's refluent lustre shooting, theme for less
Than seraph's harp too high, with trembling hand
The bard essays. Aonian mockeries, hence!
Back to your Pindus, nor let foot profane
Vex the chaste ground. 'Twas yours of yore to sing,
How with his lyre's soft magic Orpheus thrill'd
The ear of Dis; and from his doleful realm,
But that nor love nor pity dwelt in hell,
Had borne Eurydice: the strain of truth
Claims loftier inspiration. O be thou,

Bless'd Faith (as 'tis thy wont, 'mid scenes of fate, With Heaven's own strength to nerve the sinking soul)

The Christian poet's muse; on wing of flame

Buoy his faint flight, and guide him through the gloom.

For lo! where tossing on her restless couch Meagre and flush'd, the food of hectic fires, Gasps in weak conflict with the mortal fiend Capernaum's lovely daughter; gasps in vain, Beneath his withering grasp. Nor art can lure, Nor might can shake him from his destined spoil. Vainly to him sweet Innocence her palms Spreads suppliant, and entreats with many a tear Short respite from her death pangs: Youth in vain Pleads his brief hopes, or ere they bloom decay'd; In sudden midnight quench'd his morning sun, His glittering day-dreams fled: the sigh of Love, Breathed from the inmost soul; pure Friendship's prayer,

Which fain with life would buy the life she craves; Affection's tender prompt solicitude,

Keen to explore and eager to relieve

The want, just hinted by the asking glance-
All fruitless to arrest the ebbing blood,
Or check the pulse with mad precipitance
Fast hurrying to its goal! But who shall tell
The woe Jaïrus feels, as fix'd he marks
In her (so late his bosom's foremost pride)
The quivering livid lip, its long farewell
Faint whispering; turn'd to him the dying look,
Him anxious seeking with its latest beam,
And fondly lingering on the much loved face!
Ah! whither shall he bend his soul's sad view?
Where find repose? The future, once so bright,
When Hope and Fancy sketch'd the happy groups
Dear to a grandsire's breast, appals him now
With horror's direst forms-the shrouded corse,
The bier, the black procession. Scared he shrinks,
And back through many a well remember'd year

Darts his quick eye: but O yet deeper pangs
Lie ambush'd there! Too faithful to the past,
Officious memory throngs the living scene
With all the father's joys-the fond caress,
The heart sprung smile, the glance intelligent,
The speaking gesture, and the courted knee,
Throne of the babe's delight! In dumb despair,
Dumbness to which all eloquence is mute,
He hides his countenance. At Aulis thus,
When 'mid assembled Greece his knife of death
Stern Calchas brandish'd o'er the victim maid,
Forth from the circling host in various guise
Burst the wild passions, by immortal art
Stamp'd on the glowing canvass *. Furious here
The frantic mother raved; there prostrate sued
The weeping friend; Achilles half unsheath'd
His mighty blade †, and Telamon's brave son
Then first knew terror. Even Ulysses felt
Thrill through his icy heart the sudden throe,
And wish'd uncounsel'd now his prosperous wile.
Apart in majesty of grief, with face

(Beyond the painter's happiest mimicry)
Wrapped in his lifted robe, Atrides stood
Sadly preeminent; and art was hail'd
Even in defeat triumphant. But avaunt
Tales of the Tauric huntress, and the hind
Vicarious, and the rescued nymph; though told
In strains of deathless glory. Holier song

* The pretended marriage with Achilles, which Ulysses suggested as a lure to draw Iphigenia to Aulis, with the substitution of a stag for the royal victim, and the daring originality with which Timanthes represented the agonies of Agamemnon, in his picture of the sacrifice, are too well known to need any detail.

+ Ελκετο δ' ἐκ κολεοῖο μέγα ξίφος —— HOM. 11. α. 194.

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