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4 Join', ye loud spheres', the vocal choir;
Thou dazzling orb of liquid fire',
The mighty chorus aid':

Soon as gray ev'ning gilds the plain',
Thou, moon', protract the melting strain',
And praise him in the shade.

5 Thou heav'n' of heav'ns', his vast abode';
Ye clouds', proclaim your forming God',
Who call'd yon worlds from night:
"Ye shades dispel !"-th' Eternal said' ;
At once th' involving darkness fled',
And nature sprung to light`.

6 Whate'er a blooming world contains ́, That wings the air', that skims the plains', United praise bestow`:

Ye dragons', sound his awful name
To heav'n aloud'; and roar acclaim',
Ye swelling deeps below`.

7 Let ev'ry element rejoice;

Ye thunders burst with awful voice',
TO HIM who bids you roll:
His praise in softer notes declare',
Each whispering breeze of yielding air',
And breathe it to the soul'.

8 To him', ye grateful cedars', bow`;
Ye tow ring mountains', bending low',
Your great Creator own`;
Tell', when affrighted nature shook',
How Sinai kindled at his look',

And trembled at his frown'.

9 Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale',
Ye insects flutt'ring on the gale',
In mutual concourse rise';
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom`,
And waft its spoils', a sweet perfume',
In incense to the skies'.

10 Wake all ye mounting tribes', and sing`;
Ye plumy warblers of the spring,
Harmonious anthems raise

TO HIM who shap'd your finer mould', Who tipp'd your glitt'ring wings with gold', And tun'd your voice to praise`. 11 Let man', by nobler passions sway'd', The feeling heart, the judging head', In heav'nly praise employ`;

Spread his tremendous name around',
Till heav'n's broad arch rings back the sound',
The gen'ral burst of joy`.

12 Ye whom the charms of grandeur please ́,
Nurs'd on the downy lap of ease',
Fall prostrate at his throne:
Ye princes, rulers', all adore`;

Praise him', ye kings', who makes your pow'r
An image of his own.

13 Ye fair', by nature form'd to move',
O praise th' eternal SOURCE OF LOVE',
With youth's enliv'ning fire`:

Let age take up the tuneful lay`,
Sigh his bless'd name-then soar away',
And ask an angel's lyre.-OGILVIE.

FA

SECTION XV.

The universal prayer.

NATHER OF ALL! in ev'ry age',
In ev'ry clime', ador'd',

By saint, by savage, and by sage',
Jehovah, Jove', or Lord!

2 Thou GREAT FIRST CAUSE', least understood Who all my sense confin'd

To know but this', that Thou art good',
And that myself am blind';

3 Yet gave me', in this dark estate',
To see the good from ill`;
And binding nature fast in fate',
Left free the human will.

4 What conscience dictates to be done',
Or warns me not to do',

This teach me more than hell to shun',
That more than heav'n pursue`.

5 What blessings thy free bounty gives',
Let me not cast away`;

For God is paid, when man receives",
T' enjoy, is to obey`.

6 Yet not to earth's contracted span',
Thy goodness let me bound',

Or think thee Lord alone of man', When thousand worlds are round 7 Let not this weak, unknowing hand, Presume thy bolts to throw';

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9 Save me alike from foolish pride',
Or impious discontent,

At aught thy wisdom has denied',
Or aught thy goodness lent`.

10 Teach me to feel another's wo`;
To hide the fault I see':
That mercy I to others show',
That mercy show to me`.

11 Mean tho' I am', not wholly so',
Since quicken'd by thy breath':
O lead me wheresoe'er I go',
Thro' this day's life' or death'.
12 This day', be bread and peace' my lot`:
All else beneath the sun',

Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not',
And let thy will be done`.

13 To thee', whose temple is all space',
Whose altar, earth, sea, skies'!
One chorus let all beings raise'!
All nature's incense rise.-Pope.

SECTION XVI.
Conscience.

TREACH'ROUS conscience' while she seems to sleep On rose and myrtle', lull'd with syren song'; While she seems', nodding o'er her charge', to drop On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein', And give us up to license', unrecall'd', Unmark'd';-see', from behind her secret stand', The sly informer minutes ev'ry fault', And her dread diary with horror fills. 2 Not the gross act alone employs her pen'; She reconnoitres fancy's airy band',

A watchful foe'! the formidable spy',

List'ning o'erhears the whispers of our camp';
Our dawning purposes of heart explores',
And steals our embryos of iniquity.

3 As all rapacious usurers conceal

Their doomsday-book from all-consuming heirs',

Thus', with indulgence most severe, she treats
Us spendthrifts of inestimable time;
Unnoted', notes each moment misapply'd`;
In leaves more durable than leaves of brass,
Writes our whole history; which death shall read
In ev'ry pale delinquent's private ear;

And judgment publish`; publish to more worlds
Than this'; and endless age in groans resound'.-YOUNG.

SECTION XVII.
On an infant.

O the dark and silent tomb',

To

Soon 1 hasten'd from the womb`:
Scarce the dawn of life began',
Ere I measur'd out my span`.
2 I no smiling pleasures knew`;
I no gay delights could view`:
Joyless sojourner was I',
Only born to weep' and die.
S Happy infant', early bless'd'!
Rest', in peaceful slumber', rest`;
Early rescu'd from the cares',
Which increase with growing years`.
4 No delights are worth thy stay',
Smiling', as they seem', and
gay';
Short and sickly are they all,
Hardly tasted ere they pall`.
5 All our gaiety is vain,
All our laughter is but pain`,
Lasting only', and divine',
Is an innocence like thine'.

H

SECTION XVIII.

The Cuckoo.

AIL, beauteous stranger of the wood',
Attendant on the spring!

Now heav'n repairs thy rural seat',
And woods thy welcome sing`.

2 Soon as the daisy decks the green',
Thy certain voice we hear:

Hast thou a star to guide thy path',
Or mark the rolling year?

S Delightful visitant! with thee
I hail the time of flow'rs',

When heav'n is fill'd with music sweet

Of birds among the bow'rs`.

4 The school-boy', wand'ring in the wood', To pull the flow'rs so gay',

Starts, thy curious voice to hear,
And imitates thy lay`.

5 Soon as the pea puts on the bloom',
Thou fly'st the vocal vale,

An annual guest', in other lands',
Another spring to hail`.

6 Sweet bird! thy bow'r is ever green',
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year` !

7 O could I fly', I'd fly with thee;
We'd make', with social wing',
Our annual visit o'er the globe',
Companions of the spring`.-

-LOGAN.

SECTION XIX.

Day. A pastoral in three parts.

MORNING.

N the barn the tenant cock',

Close to Partlet perch'd on high', Briskly crows' (the shepherd's clock'!) Jocund that the morning's nigh'. 2 Swiftly, from the mountain's brow', Shadows', nurs'd by night', retire'; And the peeping sun-beam', now', Paints with gold the village spire`. s Philomel forsakes the thorn',

Plaintive where she prates at night', And the lark to meet the morn', Soars beyond the shepherd's sight'. 4 From the low-roof'd cottage ridge', See the chatt'ring swallow spring, Darting through the one-arch'd bridge, Quick she dips her dappled wing`. 5 Now the pine-tree's waving top, Gently greets the morning gale`, Kidlings, now, begin to crop Daisies', on the dewy dale.

6 From the balmy sweets', uncloyd', (Restless till her task be done',)

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