« PreviousContinue »
Hopeless immortals' how they scream and shiver,
While devils push them to the pit wide yawning,
Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong Down to the centre.
Stop here my fancy: (all away ye horrid
Doleful ideas') come arise to Jesus,
How he sits God-like: and the saints around him Thron’d, yet adoring!
O may I sit there when he comes triumphant,
Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory,
While our Hosannas all along the passage
IAUNCHING INTO ETERNITY.
It was a brave attempt! advent'rous he
He on a pine-plank rides across the waves, Exulting on the edge of thousand gaping graves: He steers the winged boat, and shifts the sails, Conquers the floods, and manages the gales. Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land Fearless, when the great Master gives command. Death is the storm: she smiles to hear it roar, And bids the tempest wast her from the shore: Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas, And manages the raging storm with ease; (Herfaith can govern Death) she spreads her wings :
I see the surging brine: the tempest raves, !
Wide to the wind, and as she sails she sings,
MEDITATION IN A GROVE,
Sweet Muse, descend and bless the shade,
Bus'ness and noise and day are fled,
But hence, ye wanton young and fair,
No Phillis shall infect the air
Jesus has all my pow'rs possest,
He, the dear Sov’reign of my breast,
Some of the fairest choirs above
With joy, to hear the name they love,
His charms shall make my numbers flow,
I'll carve our passion on the bark,
Shall drop and bear some mystic mark
The swains shall wonder when they read
That Heav'n itself came down, and bled
THERON among his travels found : A broken statue on the ground; And searching onward as he went, He trac'd a ruin’d monument. Mould, moss, and shades, had overgrown' The sculpture of the crumbling stone,
• In turning the dull Stoics o'er:
“ To cure ambition: I can learn
With greater ease the great concern “Of mortals; how we may despise “ All the gay things below the skies.
“ Methinks a mould'ring pyramid Says all that the old sages said: For me, these shatter'd tombs contain. More morals than the Vatican. * The dust of heroes cast abroad, • And kick'd and trampled in the road, “ The relics of a lofty mind, “That lately wars and crowns design'd, “ Tost for a jest from wind to wind, “ Bid me be humble, and forbear “ Tall monuments of fame to rear, “ They are but castles in the air.
And feed their boys with notes and rules,