A. '232 LYRIC POEMS. 401 The grazing ox lows to the gelid skies, Walks o'er the marble meads with withering eyes, Walks o'er the solid lakes, snuffs up the wind, and dies. 3 Fly to the polar world, my song, And mourn the pilgrims there, (a wretched throng ') Seiz'd and bound m rigid chains, A troopof statues on the Russianplains, And life stands froten in the purple veins. Atheist, forbear; nomore blaspheme: God has a thousand terrors in his name, A thousand armies at command, Waiting the signal of his hand, And magazines offrost, and magazines of flame. Dress thee in steel to meet his wrath; His sharp artillery from the north Shall pierce thee to the soul, and shake . thy mortal frame. Sublime on winter's rugged wings He rides in arms along the sky, And scatters fate on swains and kings; And flocks and herds,and nations die; While impious lips, profanely bold, Grow pale. and, quivering at his dreadful cold, Give their own blasphemies the lie. 4 The mischief's that infest the earth, When the hot dog -star fires the realms on high, Drought and disease, and cruel dearth, Are but the flashesof a wrathful eye From the inceus'd divinity. In vain our parching palates thirst, For vital food in vain we cry, And pant for vital breath ; The verdant fields are burnt to dust, The sun has drunk the channels dry, And all the air is death. Ye scourges of our Maker's rod, 'Tis at his dread command, at his im- perial nod, You deal yourvarious plaguesabroad. ú Hail, whirlwinds, hurricanes and floods That all the leafy standards strip, And bear down with a mighty sweep The riches of the fields, and honours of the woods; Storms, that ravage o'er the deep, And bury millions in the waves ;" Earthquakes, that in midnight-sleep Turn cities into heaps, and make our beds our graves. While you dispense your mortal. harms, 'Tis the Creator's voice that sounds your loud alarms, When guilt with louder criesprovokes a God to arms. S O fora message from above To bear any spirits up! Some pledge of my 'Creator's love To calm my terrors, and support my hope! Let waves and thunders mixand roar, Be thou shy God, and the whole world is mine Whilethoaartsov'reign, I'm secure; I shall be rich till than art poor; For all I fear, and all I wish, heav'n, earth and hell are thine. Earth asid Heaven. i HAST thou not seen, impatient boy ? Hast thou not read the solemn truth, That grey experience writes for giddy youth Onevery mortal jby? ra Pleasure must be dash'd with pain :" And yet with heedless haste, The thirsty boy repeats the taste, Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bawl again, The rills of pleasure never run sincere; (Earth has no unpolluted spring) From the curs'd soil some dang'rous taint they bear ;' So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting. 2 In vain we seek a heaven below the Theo kworld has false, but flatt'ring charms; Its distant joys show big in our esteem, ut lessen' still as they draw near the eye; In our embrace the visions die, And when we grasp the airy forms We lose the pleasing dream. 3 Earth, withher scenes ofgay delight, Is but a landscape rudely drawn, With glaring colours and false light; Distance commends it to the sight, For fools to gaze upon; But bring the nauseous daubing nigh, Coarse and confus'd the hideous figures lie, Dissolve the pleasure, and offend the eye. 4 Look up, my soul, pant toward th' eternal hills; Those heav'ns are fairer than they. seem ; There pleasures all sincere glide on in crystal rills, There not a dreg of guilt defiles, Nor grief disturbs the stream. ThatCanaan knows no noxious thing, No curs'd soil, no tainted spring, Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wearsa sting. Felicity Above. I NO, 'tis in vain to seek for bliss ; For Miss can ne'er be found Till we an ire where Jesus is, And tread on heav'nly ground.
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