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While in the confidence of prayer

My soul took hold on thee.
For tho' in dreadful whirls we hung

High on the broken wave,
I knew thou wert not flow to hear,

Nor impotent to save.
The storm was laid, the winds retir'd,

Obedient to thy will;
The fea, that roar'd at thy command,

At thy command was still.
In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths,

Thy goodness I'll adore ;
And praise thee for thy mercies past,

And humbly hope for more.
My life, if thou preferve my life,

Thy facrifice shall be ;
And death, if death must be my doom,
Shall join my soul to thee.


Hymn on a Review of the Seasons.
THESE, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide Alush the fields; the foftening air is balm ;
Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ;
And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Then comes thy glory in the Summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy fun
Shoots full perfection thro' the swelling year ;,
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ;
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow whispering gales.
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In Winter, awful Thou ! with clouds and forms
Around thee thrown, tempelt o'er tempelt rollid,
Majestic darkness ! On the whirlwind's wing,
Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore;
And humblelt nature with thy northern blast.

Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these appear! a fimple train,
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd,

Shade, unperceiv'd, fo foft'ning into shade,
And all so forming an harmonious whole,
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
But wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That, ever busy, wheels the filent spheres ;
Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence
The fair prorusion that o'erspreads the spring ;
Flings from the sun direct the faming day ;
Feeds every creature ; hurls the tempest forth ;
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.

Nature, attend ! join every living foul,
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky.
In adoration join ! and, aident, raise
One general fong!
Ye, chief, for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn !
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows; the summer ray
Ruffets the plain ; inspiring autumn gleams ;
Or winter rises in the black’ning east ;
Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat !

Should fate command me to the farthest vergé
Of the green earth, to diftant barb’sous climes,
Rivers unknown to song : where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on th' Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me ;
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void walte as in the city full ;
And where He vital breathes there must be joy.
When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my myitic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey ; there, with new powersg.
Wilt rising wonders sing : I cannot go
Where UNIVERSAL Love not fmiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns ;
From seeming evil ftill educing good,
And better thence again, and better ftill,
In infinite progression. But I lose
Myself in Him, in light ineffable !
Come then, expreflive filence, muse his praife. THOMSON.



CHAP. 6.

Promiscuous Pieces.

On Solitude.
O SOLITUDE, romantic maid !
Whether by nodding towers you tread,
Or Kaunt the desert's trackless gloom,
Or hover o'er the yawning tomb,
Or climb the Andes' clifted fide,
Or by the Nile's coy source abide,
Or, starting from your half-year's sleep,
From Hecla view the thawing deep,
Or, at the purple dawn of day,
Tadmor's marble wastes survey ;

You, recluse, again I woo,

And again your steps pursue.
Plum'd conceit himself surveying,
Folly with her shadow playing,
Purse-proud elbowing infolence,
Bloated empiric, puff'd pretence,
Noise that through a trumpet speaks,
Laughter in loud peals that breaks,
Intrusion, with a fopling's face,
(Ignorant of time and place, )
Sparks of fire dissension blowing,
Ductile, court-bred flattery bowing,
Restraint's stiff neck, grimace's leer,
Squint.ey'd censure's artful sneer,
Ambition's buskins, steep'd in blood,
Fly thy presence, Solitude!

Sage reflection bent with years,
Conscious 'virtue, void of fears,
Muffled filence, wood-nymph shy,
Meditation's piercing eye,
Halcyon peace on moss reclin'd,
Retrospect that scans the mind,
Rapt earth gazing.revery,
Blushing artless modesty,
Health that snuffs the morning air,
Full-ey'd truth with bosom bare,
Inspiration, nature's child,
Seck the folitary wild.
When all nature's hulh'd asleep,
Nor love, nor guilt, their vigils keep,
Soft you leave your cavern'd den,
And wander o'er the works of men ;

But when Phosphor brings the dawn,
By her dappled coursers drawn,
Again you to the wild retreat,
And the early huntsman meet,
Where, as you pensive pass along,
You catch'd the distant shepherd's song,
Or brush from herbs the pearly dew,
Or the rising primrose view,
Devotion lends her heaven-plum'd wings,
You mount, and nature with you fings.
But when mid-day fervours glow,
To upland airy shades you go,
Where never fun-burnt woodman came,
Nor sportsman chas'd the timid game :
And there, beneath an oak reclin'd,
With drowsy waterfalls behind,
You link to rest.
Till the tuneful bird of night,
From the neighb'ring poplar's height,
Wake you with her folemn strain,
And teach pleas'd echo to complain.

With you roses brighter bloom,
Sweeter every sweet perfume ;
Purer every

fountain flows, Stronger every wilding grows.

Let those toil for gold who please,
Or, for fame renounce their ease.
What is fame? An empty bubble ;
Gold ? a shining, constant trouble.
Let them for their country bleed!
What was Sidney's, Raleigh's meed?
Man's not worth a moment's pain ;
Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain.
Then let me, fequefter'd fair,
To your sibyl grot repair,
On yon hanging cliff it stands,
Scoop'd by nature's plastic hands,
Bofom'd in the gloomy shade
Of cypress not with age decay'd ;
Where the owl still hooting fits,
Where the bat incessant Aitę;
There in loftier strains I'll fing
Whence the changing seasons (pring ;

Tell how storms deform the skies,
Whence the waves subside and rise,
Trace the comet's blazing tail,
Weigh the planets in a scale ;
Bend, great God, before thy shrine ;
The bournless macrocosm's thine.

Since in each scheme of life I've fail'd,
And disappointment seems entail'd;
Since all on earth I valued most,
My guide, my stay, my friend, is loft ;
O Solitude, now give me rest,
And hush the tempeft in my breaft.
O gently deign to guide my feet
To your hermit-trodden seat ;
Where I may live at last my own,
Where I at last may die unknown.
I spoke : she turn'd her magic ray ;

And thus the said, or seem’d to say ;
Youth, you're mistaken, if you think to find
In fhades, a med'cine for a troubled mind :
Wan grief will haunt you wherefoe'er you go,
Sigh in the breeze, and in the streamlet flow.
There, pale inaction pines his life away ;
And satiate mourns the quick return of day :
There, naked frenzy, laughing wild with pain,
Or bares the blade, or plunges in the main :
There, superstition broods o'er all her fears,
And yells of demons in the zephyr hears.
But if a hermit you're resolv'd to dwell,
And bid to social life a last farewell ;
'Tis impious.
God never made an independent man ;
'Twould jar the concord of his general plan.
See every part of that stupendous whole,
“ Whof body natyre is, and God the soul ;”
To one great end the general good conspire,
From matter, brute, to man, to seraph, fire.
Should man through nature folitary room,
His will his sovereign, every where his home,
What force would guard him from the lion's jaw ?
What swiftness wing him from the panther s paw?
Or should fate lead him to some safer shore,
Where panthers never prowl, nor lions roar,
Where liberal nature all her charms bestows,
Suns Ahine, birds sing, flowers bloom, and water flow,
Fool, doft thou think he'd revel on the store,
Abfolve the care of Heaven, nor ask for more?
Though waters flow'd, flow'rs bloom'd, and Phæbus hones
He'd figh, he'd murmur, that he was alone.
For know, the Maker on the human breast
A sense of kindred, country, man, impress'do

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