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At thy creative voice from ancient night,
Sprang smiling beauty, and yon world of light:
Thou spak'st-the planetary chorus roll’d,
Stapendous worlds! unmeasur'd and untold !
Let there be light, said God - light instant shone,
And from the orient burst the golden sun:
Heay'n's gazing hierarchs, with glad surprize,
Saw the first morn invest the recent skies,
And strait th' exulting troops thy throne surround;
With thousand, thousand harps of rapt'rous sound ;
Thrones, powers, dominions, (ever shining trains !)
Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains :
Great are thy works, they sing, and all around,
Great are thy works, the echoing heav'ns resound,
Th' effulgent sun, unsufferably bright,
Is but a ray of thy o'erflowing light;
The tempest is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd

Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world ;
Thou bow'st the heaven's, the smoking mountains nod,
Rocks fall to dust, and nature owns her God!
Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast,
And impious kings in horror breathe their last.
To this Great God, alternately, I'd pay,
The evening anthem and the morning lay.

"ROM night, from silence, and from deathy.

Or death's own form, mysterious sleep,
I wake to life, to light and health :
Thus me doth Israel's Watchman keep.
Sacred to him in grateful praise,
Be this devoted tranquil hour.
While Him, supremely good and great,
With rapt'rous homage I adore.
What music breaks from yonder corpse ?
The plumy songster's artless lay;
Melodious songslers, nature taught!
That warbling hail the dawning day,
Shall man be mute, while instinct sings
Nor human breast with transports risen
O! for an universal hymn,
To join the chorus of the skies


See yon refulgent lamp of day,
With unabating glory crown'd,
Rejoicing in his giant strength,
To run his daily destin'd round.
So may I still perform thy will:
Great Sun of Nature and of Grace
Nor wander devious from thy law i
Nor faint in niy appointed race.
What charms display the unfolding flowers,
How beauteous grows the enamelid mead?
More beauteous still the heaven wrought robe,
of purest white and fac'd with red,
The sun exhales the pearly dews,
Those brilliant sky shed tears that mourn
His nightly loss ; till from earth's cheek
They're kiss'd away by pitying morn.
For laps'd mankind what friendly tears,
Beat on our weal did Angels shed ?
Bound, bound our hearts, to think those tears
Made frustrate all when Jesus bled !
Arabia wafts from yonder grove
Delicious odours in the gale;
And with her breeze born fragrance greets,
Each circumjacent hill and dale.
An incense may my morning song,
A sweetly smelling savor rise,
Perfum'd with Gilead's precious balm,
To make it grateful to the skies.
And when from death's long sleep. I wake,
To nature's renovating day.
Cloathe me with thy own righteousness,
And in thy likeness, Lord array,

H , ,

AIL, sacred Peac, wlio claim'st thy bright abode

Betore his arm, around this shapeless earth,
Stretch'd the wide heavens and gave to nature birth?
Ere morning stars his glowing chambers hung,
Or songs of gladness woke an angel's tongue;
Veild in the brightness of th'Almighty's mind,
In blest repose thy placid form reclin'd;
Born thro' the Heaven, with bis creating voice,

Thy presence bade the unfolding world rejoice,
Gave to seraphic harps their sounding lays...
Their joy to angels and to men their praise.
From scenes of blood these beauteous shores that stail
From gasping friends that press the sanguin'd plain,
From fields, long taught in vain thy flight to mourn,
I rise, delightful power, and greet thy glad return;
Too long the groans of death and battle's bray
Have rung discordant thro' the unpleasing lay;
Let pity's tear its balmy fragrance shed,
O'er heroes' wounds, and patriot warriors dead
Accept, departed shades, these grateful sighs,
Your fond attendants, to th' approving skies.
But how the untuneful trump'shall grate no more,
Ye silver streains, no longer swell with gore ; ;
Bear from your beauteous banks the crimsoli stail,
With yon retiring wavies to the main :
While other views infolding on my eyes,
And happier themes bid bolder numbers rise.
Bring, bounteous peace, in thy celestial th ons,

Lite to my soul, and rapture to my song;
Give me to trace, with pure unclouded

The arts and virtues that attend thy sway ;
To see thy blissful charms that here descend
Thro' distant realms and endless years extend.


Brings out his little stock and decks his board
With what his-ill-stor'd cupboard will affird,
With aukward bows, and ill plac'd rustic airs,

To make excuses for his feast prepares ;
So we, with tremor, mix'd with vast delight,
View the bright audience which appears tonight;
And, conscious of its meanness, hardly dare
Yo bid you welcome to our homely fare.
Should your applause a confidence impart,
To calm the fears that press the timid heart,
Some. hope I cherish, in your smiles I read 'em,
Whate'er our faults, your candor caâ exceedlem

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May I know the cause ? Hen. My dear, dear Miss Beverly, I have such a thing to tell you-you would never guess it I don't know how to believe it myself-Mr. Delvill has written to me! be bas indeed! here is the note! (holding out a letter.] Ceo. Indeed! I long to know the contents, pray read ito Hen. [reads it.]

" To Mụss BELPIELD, Mr. Delvill presents his compliments to Miss Belfield, and begs to be permitted to wait on her for a few minutes at any time in the afiernoon she would please to appoint."

Only think! it is me, poor simple me, of all people, that he wants to speak with. But what can he want! My dearest Cécilia tell me what you think he can have to say to me.

C'éc. Indeed it is impossible for me to conjecture.

Hen: If you can't, I ain sure there is no wonder I can't. I have thought of a million things in a minute. It can't be about business---It can't be about my brother. It can't be about my dear Miss Beverly---] suspect-(A servant enters wilb a message:]

Ser: A gencleinan in the parlour desires to speak with Miss Belfeld.

[Servant goes out.] Hen. My dear Miss Beverly, what shall say to ķim? Pray advise me, I am so confused I cau't say a single word.

Cec. I can't advise you, Miss Belfield, for I don't know what he will say to you:

Hen. But I can guess, I can guess! and I shan't know what in the world to answer. I shall behave like a sim. pleton and disgrace myself. [Cecilia leaves ber and Mr. Delvill enters the room.]

Delvill. Good morrow Miss Beifield. I hope I have the pleasuse to see you well to day. Is Miss Beverly at home? I have a message for her from my mother

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Hen. [Witb a look of disappointment] yes, sir, she is at home, I will call her.

[goes out] [Cecilia enters. ] - Delu. Good morrow, madam, I have presumed to wait on you, this morning, by permission of my mother. But I am afraid that permission is so late that the inau. ence I hoped from it is past.

Cec. I had no means, Sir, of knowing you came from her. Otherwise I should have received her commands without hesitation.

Delv. I would thank you for the honour you do her, was it less pointedły exclusive. Yet I have no right to reproach you. Let me ask, Madam, could you, after my solemn promise at our last parting, to renounce all future claim upon you, in obediênce to my mother's will, could you think me so dishonorable, as to obtrude myself into your presence, while that promise wasin force?

Cec. I find I have been too hasty. I did indeed beJieve Mrs. Delvill would never authorize such a visit: but as I was much surprised, I hope I may be pardoned for a little doubt.

Delu. There spoke Miss Beverly! the same, the analtered Miss Beverly I hoped to find. Yet is she unaltered ? Am I not too hasty! And is the story I have heard about Belfield a dream? an error a falsehood ?

Cec. If it was not such a quick succession of quarrels would be endless-perplexity, I would be affronted that you can ask Áne such a question.

Delv. Had I thought it a question, I should not have asked it. But never for a moment did I credit it, till the rigour of your repulse alarmed me. But as you are good enough to account for that, I am encouraged to make known the design of my present visit. Yet with confidence I cannot speak? bardly with hope.

Cee. One thing Sir, let me say before you proceed; if your purpose has not the sanetion of Mrs. Delvill, as well as your visit, I would be excused from Wearing it, for I shall most certainly refuse it:

Delo. I would mention nothing without her concurtence, she has given it: and my father has also consent, ed to my present application.".

Cec. (clasping ber bands in joy.) Is it possible !

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