When scenes are chang'd on this revolving eartlı,
Old empires fall, and give new empires birth;
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 dissolv'd, or an extinguish'd sun:
(Ye sublunary worlds, awake, awake!
Ye rulers of the nations, hear and shake!)
Thick clouds of darkness shall arise on day;
In sudden 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 sanguine stain the silver moon o'erspread;
Darkness the circle of the sun invade;
From inmost heaven incessant thunders roll,
And the strong 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.

O pow'rful blast! to which no equal sound Did e'er the frighted car of nature wound,

Though rival clarions have been strain'd on high, And kindled wars immortal through the sky, Though GOD's whole engin'ry discharg'd, and all The rebel angels bellow'd in their fall.

Have angels sinn'd! and shall not man beware? How shall a son of earth decline the snare ? Not folded arms, and slackness of the mind, Can promise for the safety of mankind: None are supinely good: through care and pain, And various arts, the steep ascent we gain. This is the scene of combat, not of rest, Man's is laborious happiness at best; On this side death his dangers never cease, His joys are joys of conquest, not of peace.

If then, obsequious to the will of fate,
And bending to the terms of human state,
When guilty joys invite us to their arms,
When beauty smiles, or grandeur spreads her
charms,

The conscious soul would this great scene display,
Call down th' immortal hosts in dread array,
The trumpet sound, the christian banner spread,
And raise from silent graves the trembling dead;
Such deep impression would the picture make,
No power on earth her firm resolve could shake;

Engag'd with angels she would greatly stand,
And look regardless down on sea and land;
Nor proffer'd worlds her ardour could restrain,
And Death might shake his threat'ning lance in vain!
Her certain conquest would endear the sight,
And danger serve but to exalt delight.

Instructed thus to shun the fatal spring,
Whence flow the terrors of that day, I sing:
More boldly we our labours may pursue,
And all the dreadful image set to view.

Ah, mournful sight! the blissful earth, who late At leisure on her axle roll'd in state: While thousand golden planets knew no rest, Still onward in their circling journey prest; A grateful change of seasons, some to bring, And sweet vicissitude of fall and spring: Some through vast oceans to conduct the keel, And some those wat'ry worlds to sink or swell: Around her some their splendors to display, And gild her globe with tributary day; This world so great, of joy the bright abode, Heaven'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 sun in radiant glory shines on high; No light but from the terrors of the sky:

Fall'n are her mountains, her fam'd rivers lost,
And all into a second chaos tost,

One universal ruin spreads abroad;

Nothing is safe beneath the throne of GOD.

Such, earth, thy fate: what then canst thou afford
To comfort, and support, thy guilty lord?
Man, haughty lord of all beneath the moon,
How must he bend his soul's ambition down?
Prostrate the reptile own, and disavow

His boasted stature, and assuming brow?
Claim kindred with the clay, and curse his form,
That speaks distinction from his sister-worm?
What dreadful pangs the trembling heart invade!
LORD, why dost thou forsake whom thou hast made?
Who can sustain thy anger? who can stand
Beneath the terrors of thy lifted hand?

It flies the reach of thought: O save me, Power
Of powers supreme, in that tremendous hour!
Thou, who beneath the frown of fate hast stood,
And in thy dreadful agony sweat blood;
Thou, who for me, through ev'ry throbbing vein,
Hast felt the keenest edge of mortal pain;
Whom Death led captive thro' the realms below,
And taught those horrid mysteries of woe:
Defend me, O my GOD! O save me, Power
Of powers supreme, in that tremendous hour!

From east to west 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, compassionately deep:

Seas cast the monster forth to meet his doom,
And rocks but prison up for wrath to come.

So fares a traitor to an earthly crown;
While death sits threat'ning in his prince's frown,
His heart's dismay'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 sea;
The port he seeks, obedient to her lord,
Hurls back the rebel to his lifted sword.

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 less;
Heavens! how the good man trembles!-

And is there a Last Day? and must there come A sure, a fix'd, inexorable doom?

Ambition swell, and thy proud sails to show,
Take all the winds that vanity can blow;
Wealth on a golden mountain blazing stand,
And reach an India forth in either hand;