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Thy form benign, propitious, wear,
Thy milder influence impart ;
Thy philosophic train be there,
To soften, not to wound my

heart.
The generous fpark extinct revive ;
Teach me to love and to forgive ;

Exact my own defects to scan ;
What others are to feel ; and know myself a man.

GRAY

SECTION XIV.

The Creation required to praise its Author.
BEGIN, my soul, th' exalted lay !
Let each enraptur'd thought obey,

And praise th' Almighty's name :
Lo ! heaven and earth, and seas and skies,
In one melodious concert rise,

To lwell th' inspiring theme.
Ye fields of light, celestial plains,
Where gay transporting beauty reigns,

Ye scenes divinely fair !
Your Maker's wondrous power proclaim,
Tell how he form d your fhining frame,

And breath'd the Auid air.
Ye angels, catch the thrilling found !
While all th’ adoring thrones around

His boundless mercy fing :
Let every lift'ning saint above
Wake all the tuneful foul of love,

And touch the sweetest string.
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.
Thou heaven of heavens, his vait abode ;
Ye ciouds, proclaim your forming God,

Who call'd yon worlds froin night :
“ Ye lhades, dispel !”--th' Eternal laid ;
At once th' involving darkness fled,

And Nature fprung to light.
Whate'tr a blooming world contains,
That wings the air, that ikims the plains,

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United praise beltow ;
Ye dragons, found his awful name
To heaven aloud ; and roar acclaim,

Ye swelling deeps below,
Let every element rejoice ;
Ye thunders, burst wiih awful voice

To him who bids you roll :
His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whisp'ring breeze of yielding air,

And breathe it to the soul.
To him, ye graceful 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.
Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale,
Ye infeas fluttering on the gale,

In mutual concourse rise ;
Crop the gay rose's vermil bloom,
And waft its spoils, a sweet perfume,

In incense to the skies.
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.
Let man, by nobler passions sway'd,
The feeling heart, the judging head,

In heavenly praise employ ;
Spread his tremendous name around,
Till heaven's broad arch rings back the sound,

The general burlt of joy.
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 power

An image of his own.
Ye fair, by nature form’d to move,
O praise th' eternal SOURCE

OF LOVE,
With youth's enliv’ning fire :

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OGILVIE.

Let age take up the tuneful lay,
Sigh his bless’d name : then foar away,
And ask an angel's lyre.

SECTION XV.

The Universal Prayer.
FATHER OF ALL ! in every age,

In every clime, ador'd,
By faint, by favage, and by fage,

Jehovah, Jove or Lord !
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;
Yet gave me in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill ;
And binding nature fast in fate,

Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,
This teach me more than hell to shun,

That more than heaven pursue.
What blessings thy free bounty gives

Let me not calt away ;
For God is paid, when man receives ;

T' enjoy is to obey.
Yet not to earth's contracted span

Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round.
Let not this weak, unknowing hand

Presume thy bolts to throw ;
And deal damnation round the land,

On each I judge thy foe.
If I am right, thy grace impart,

Still in the right to stay ;
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart

To find that better way !
Save me alike from foolish pride,

Or impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has deny'd,

Or aught thy goodness lent.

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Teach me to feel another's wo,

To hide the fault I fee ;
That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.
Mean tho I am, not wholly fo,

Since quicken'd by thy breath ;
O lead me wherefoe'er I go,

Thro' this day's life or death !
This day, be bread and peace my lot ;

All else beneath the sun
Thou know'st if belt bestow'd or not,

And let thy will be done.
To thee, whose temple is all space,

Whofe altar, earth, fea, skies!
One chorus let all beings raise !

All nature's incenfe rise.

POPES

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Conscience.
O treach'rous conscience ! while she seems to sleep
On rose and myrtle, lull'd with siren song ;
While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop,
On headlong appetite the flacken'd rein,

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And give us up to license unrecallid,
Unmark'd; see from behind her secret stand,
The fly informer minutes ev'ry fault,
And her dread diary with horror fills.
Not the gross act alone employs her pen ;
She reconnoitres fancy's airy band.
A watchful foe! the formidable fpy,
Lill’ning, o'erhears the whispers of our camp ;
Our dawning purposes of heart explores,
And steals our embryos of iniquity.
As all rapacious usurers conceal
Their doomsday book from all consuming beirs ;
Thus, with indulgence most severe, she treats
Us fpendthrifts 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.

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SECTION XVII.

On an Infant.
To the dark and silent tomb,
Soon I halted from the womb :
Scarce the dawn of life began,
Ere I measur'd out my spaa.
I no smiling pleasures knew ;
I no gay delights could view:
Joyless sojourner was I,
Only born to weep and die.
Happy infant, early bless’d!
Reit, in peaceful Aumber, rest ;
Early rescu'd from the cares,
Which increase with growing years,
No delights are worth thy stay,
Smiling as they seem, and gays
Short and sickly are they all,
Hardly tasted ere they pall.
All our gaiety is vain,
All our laughter is but pain ;
Lalting only, and divine,
Is an innocence like thine.

SECTION XVIII,

The Cuckoo.
Hail, beauteous stranger of the wood,

Attendant on the Spring!
Now heav'n repairs thy rural seat,

And woods thy welcome sing.
Soon as the daisy decks the green,

Thy certain voice we hear :
Halt thou a star to guide thy path,

Or mark the rolling year?
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.
The school-boy, wand'ring in the wood,

To pull the flow'rs fo gay,
Starts, thy curious voice to hear,

And imitates thy lay.
Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou Ay'At thy vocal vale,

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