Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

Nought is excluded little or infirm,

Thou canft with greatnefs ftoop to save a worm.

Come, goddefs, come with all thy charms,
(For oh! I love thee,) to my arms:

All, all my actions guide, my fancy feed,
So fhall exiftence then be life indeed.

ل

SMART.

ODE, ON HEARING MUSIC.

YON organ! hark! how foft, how sweet,
The warbling notes in concert meet ?
The found my fancy leads

To climes where Phoebus' brightest beams
Gild jas'mine groves, and chrystal streams,
And lily-mantled meads;

Where myrtle bowers their bloom unfold,
Where citrons bend with fruit of gold,

Where grapes depress the vines;

Where, on the bank with rofes gay,
Love, Innocence, and. Pleasure play,
And Beauty's form reclines.

F

Now different tones and measures flow,
And gravely deep, and sadly flow,
Involve the mind in gloom;

I feem to join the mournful train,
Attendant round the couch of Pain,
Or leaning o'er the tomb:

To where the orphan'd infant fleeps,
To where the love-lorn damfel weeps,
I pitying feem to ftray:
Methinks I watch his cradle near,
Methinks her drooping thoughts I cheer,
And wipe her tears away.

Now loud the tuneful thunders roll,

And roufe and elevate the foul

O'er earth and all its care;

I feem to hear from heavenly plains
Angelic choirs refponfive trains,

And in their raptures fhare.

SCOTT.

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

AN ODE.

VITAL fpark of heavenly flame !
Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy ftrife,
And let me languish into life.

Hark! they whisper; angels fay,
Sifter fpirit, come away.

What is this abforbs me quite ?.

Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight, Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath! Tell me, my foul, can this be Death?

The world recedes; it difappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my cars
With founds feraphic ring:

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?

O Death! where is thy fting?

POPE.

WRITTEN IN THE HOLY BIBLE.

YE facred tomes, be my unerring guide,
Dove-hearted faints, and prophets eagle-ey'd!
I scorn the moral fop, and ethic fage,

But drink in truth from your illumin'd page:
Like Mofes' bush, each leaf divinely bright,
Where God invefts himself in milder light!
Taught by your doctrines, we devoutly rife,
Faith points the way, and hope unbars the skies:
You tune our paffions, teach them how to roll,
And fink the body, but to raise the soul;-
To raife it, bear it to mysterious day,
Nor want an angel to direct the way!

-

THOMSON.

HYMN TO THE RISING SUN.

FROM the red wave, rising bright,
Lift on high thy golden head;
O'er the misty mountains spread
Thy smiling rays of orient light!
See the golden God appear!
Flies the fiend of darkness drear;
Flies, and in her gloomy train,
Sable Grief, and Care, and Pain!

See the golden God advance!

On Taurus' heights his courfers prance :
With him hafte the vernal hours,
Breathing fweets, and dropping flowers.
Laughing Summer at his fide,
Waves her locks in rofy pride;
And Autumn bland, with aspect kind,
Bears his golden fheaf behind.
O hafte, and spread the purple day
O'er all the wide ethereal way!
Nature mourns at thy delay:
God of Glory, haste away!
From the red wave rifing bright,
Lift on high thy golden head;
O'er the misty mountains spread
Thy fmiling rays of orient light!

LANGHORNE,

A THOUGHT ON ETERNITY.

ERE the foundations of the world were laid,
Pre killing light th' Almighty word obey'd,
Thon wert; and when the fubterraneous flame
Shall burft its prison, and devour this frame,

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »