View the whole earth's vaft landskip unconfin'd,
Or view in Britain all her glories join'd.
Then let the firmament thy wonder raise ;
"Twill raise thy wonder, but transcend thy praise.
How far from east to weft? The lab'ring eye
Can fcarce the distant azure bounds defcry:
Wide theatre! where tempefts play at large,
And God's right-hand can all its wrath discharge.
Mark how those radiant lamps inflame the pole,
Call forth the seasons, and the year controul:
They shine thro' time, with an unalter'd ray:
See This grand period rife, and That decay:
So vaft, this world's a grain; yet myriads grace,
With golden pomp, the throng'd ethereal space;
So bright, with fuch a wealth of glory stor❜d,
"Twere fin in heathens not to have ador'd.
How great, how firm, how facred, all appears!
How worthy an immortal round of years!
Yet all must drop, as autumn's ficklieft grain,
And earth and firmament be fought in vain:
The tract forgot where conftellations fhone,
Or where the STUARTS fill'd an awful throne:
Time fhall be flain, all nature be destroy'd,
Nor leave an atom in the mighty void.
Sooner, or later, in fome future date,
(A dreadful fecret in the book of fate!)
This hour, for aught all human wisdom knows,
Or when ten thousand harvests more have rofe;
When scenes are chang'd on this revolving earth,
Old empires fall, and give new empires birth;
While other Bourbons rule in other lands,
And (if man's fin forbids not) other ANNES;
While the still busy world is treading o'er
The paths they trod five thousand years before,
Thoughtless as those who now life's mazes run,
Of earth diffolv'd, or an extinguish'd fun;
(Ye fublunary worlds, awake, awake!
Ye rulers of the nation, hear, and shake!)
Thick clouds of darkness fhall arife on day;
In fudden night all earth's dominions lay;
Impetuous winds the scatter'd forests rend;
Eternal mountains, like their cedars, bend;
The valleys yawn, the troubled ocean roar,
And break the bondage of his wonted shore;
A fanguine ftain the filver moon o'erfpread;
Darkness the circle of the fun invade;
From inmost heav'n inceffant thunders roll,
And the ftrong echo bound from pole to pole.
When, lo, a mighty trump, one half conceal'd
In clouds, one half to mortal eye reveal'd,
Shall pour a dreadful note; the piercing call
Shall rattle in the centre of the ball;
Th' extended circuit of creation shake,
The living die with fear, the dead awake.
Oh pow`rful blast! to which no equal found
Did e'er the frighted ear of nature wound,
Tho' rival clarions have been ftrain'd on high,
And kindled wars immortal thro' the sky,
Tho' God's whole enginery difcharg'd, and all
The rebel Angels bellow'd in their fall.
Have angels finn'd ? and fhall not man beware?
How fhall a fon of earth decline the fnare ?
Not folded arms, and flackness of the mind,
Can promise for the fafety of mankind:
None are fupinely good: thro' care and pain,
And various arts, the fteep afcent we gain.
This is the scene of combat, not of reft,
Man's is laborious happiness at best;
On this fide death his dangers never cease,
His joys are joys of conqueft, not of peace.
If then, obfequious to the will of fate,
And bending to the terms of human state,
When guilty joys invite us to their arms,
"When beauty fmiles, or grandeur fpreads her charms,
The confcious foul would this great fcene display,
Call down th' immortal hofts in dread array,
The trumpet sound, the Christian banner spread,
And raise from filent graves the trembling dead;
Such deep impreffion would the picture make,
No pow'r on earth her firm resolve could shake;
Engag'd with angels fhe would greatly stand,
And look regardless down on sea and land;
Not proffer'd worlds her ardour could restrain,
And death might shake his threat'ning lance in vain!
Her certain conqueft would endear the fight,
And danger serve but to exalt delight.
Inftructed thus to fhun the fatal fpring,
Whence flow the terrors of that day I fing;
More boldly we our labours may pursue,
And all the dreadful image fet to view.
The sparkling eye, the fleck and painted breast,
The burnish'd scale, curl'd train, and rifing creft,
All that is lovely in the noxious snake,
Provokes our fear, and bids us flee the brake:
The fting once drawn, his guiltless beauties rife
In pleasing luftre, and detain our eyes;
We view with joy, what once did horror move,
And strong averfion foftens into love.
Say then, my mufe, whom dismal scenes delight,
Frequent at tombs, and in the realms of night;
Say, melancholy maid, if bold to dare
The last extremes of terror and despair;
Oh fay, what change on earth, what heart in man,
This blackest moment fince the world began.
Ah mournful turn! the blissful earth, who late
At leisure on her axle roll'd in state;
While thousand golden planets knew no reft,
Still onward in their circling journey prest;
A grateful change of seasons fome to bring,
And sweet viciffitude of fall and spring:
Some thro' vaft oceans to conduct the keel,
And some those watry worlds to fink, or fwell:
Around her fome their fplendors to display,
And gild her globe with tributary day:
This world fo great, of joy the bright abode,
Heav'n's darling child, and fav'rite of her God,
Now looks an exile from her Father's care,
Deliver'd o'er to darkness and despair.
No fun in radiant glory fhines on high;
No light, but from the terrors of the sky:
Fall'n are her mountains, her fam'd rivers loft,
And all into a fecond chaos tost:
One univerfal ruin spreads abroad;
Nothing is fafe beneath the throne of God.
Such, earth, thy fate: what then canft thou afford
To comfort and support thy guilty lord?
Man, haughty lord of all beneath the moon,
How must he bend his foul's ambition down?
Proftrate, the reptile own, and difavow
His boasted stature, and affuming brow?
Claim kindred with the clay, and curfe his form,
That speaks diftinction from his fifter worm?
What dreadful pangs the trembling heart invade ?
Lord, why doft thou forfake, whom thou haft made ?
Who can sustain thy anger? who can stand
Beneath the terrors of thy lifted hand?
It flies the reach of thought; oh fave me, Pow'r
Of pow'rs fupreme, in that tremendous hour!
Thou who beneath the frown of fate haft ftood,
And in thy dreadful agony sweat blood;
Thou, who for me, thro' every throbbing vein,
Hast felt the keenest edge of mortal pain;
Whom death led captive through the realms below,
And taught those horrid mysteries of woe;
Defend me, O my God! Oh save me, Pow'r
Of pow'rs fupreme, in that tremendous hour!
From east to weft they fly, from pole to line,
Imploring shelter from the wrath divine;
Beg flames to wrap, or whelming seas to sweep,
Or rocks to yawn, compaffionately deep:
Seas caft the monfter forth to meet his doom,
And rocks but prifon up for wrath to come.
So fares a traitor to an earthly crown;
While death fits threat'ning in his prince's frown,
His heart's difmay'd; and now his fears command,
To change his native for a distant land:
Swift orders fly, the king's severe decree
Stands in the channel, and locks up the fea;
The port he seeks, obedient to her lord,
Hurls back the rebel to his lifted fword.
But why this idle' toil to paint that day?
This time elaborately thrown away?
Words all in vain pant after the distress,
The height of eloquence would make it lefs;
Heav'ns! how the good man trembles !—
And is there a Laft Day? and must there come
A fure, a fix'd, inexorable doom?
Ambition fwell, and, thy proud fails to fhow,
Take all the winds that vanity can blow ;
Wealth on a golden mountain blazing stand,
And reach an India forth in either hand;
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