Old Boreas with his freezing pow'rs Turns the earth iron, makes the ocean glass, Arrests the dancing rivulets as they pass, And chains them moveless to their shores; The grazing ox lows to the gelid skies, Walks o'er the marble meads with withering eyes, Walks o'er the solid lakes, snuffs up the wind, and dies. Fly to the polar world, my song, And mourn the pilgrims there, (a wretched throng!) A troop of statues on the Russian plains, And magazines of frost, and magazines of flame. His sharp artillery from the north [frame. Shall pierce thee to the soul, and shake thy mortal He rides in arms along the sky, Grow pale; and, quivering at his dreadful cold, The mischiefs that infest the earth, Drought and disease, and cruel dearth, Are but the flashes of a wrathful eye From the incens'd Divinity. In vain our parching palates thirst, For vital food in vain we cry, And pant for vital breath; The verdant fields are burnt to dust, Ye scourges of our Maker's rod, 'Tis at his dread command, at his imperial nod, You deal your various plagues abroad. Hail? whirlwinds, hurricanes, and floods, And bear down with a mighty sweep The riches of the fields, and honours of the woods; And bury millions in the waves; Turn cities into heaps, and make our beds our graves; 'Tis the Creator's voice that sounds your loud alarms, When guilt with louder cries provokes a God to arms. O for a message from above To bear my spirits up! Some pledge of my Creator's love To calm my terrors and support my hope? 1 shall be rich till thou art poor; For all I fear, and all I wish, Heaven, earth, and hell, are thine. EARTH AND HEAVEN. HAST thou not seen, impatient boy, Hast thou not read the solemn truth, Pleasure must be dash'd with pain?' And yet with heedless haste The thirsty boy repeats the taste; Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again. The rills of pleasure never run sincere ; (Earth has no unpolluted spring) From the curs'd soil some dangerous taint they bear; So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting. In vain we seek a Heaven below the sky; And when we grasp the airy forms Earth with her scenes of gay delight But bring the nauseous daubing nigh, Look up, my soul, pant tow'rd the' eternal hills; Those heavens are fairer than they seem; There pleasures, all sincere, glide on in crystal There not a dreg of guilt defiles, Nor grief disturbs the stream. That Canaan knows no noxious thing, No cursed soil, no tainted spring, [rills, Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting. FELICITY ABOVE. No, 'tis in vain too seek for bliss; For bliss can ne'er be found, Till we arrive where Jesus is, And tread on heavenly ground. There's nothing round these painted skies, Nothing, my soul, that's worth thy joys, 'Tis Heaven on earth to taste his love, Why move my years in slow delay ? O God of ages! why? Let the spheres cleave, and mark my way Dear Sovereign, break these vital strings That bind me to my clay; Take me, Uriel, on thy wings, And stretch and soar away. SELF-CONSECRATION. Ir grieves me, Lord, it grieves me sore, My inward powers shall burn and flame I would not speak, but for my God, nor move, but to his praise. What are my eyes, but aids to see Inscrib'd with beams of light, On flowers and stars? Lord, I behold The shining azure, green and gold; [my sight. But when I try to read thy name, a dimness veils Mine ears are rais'd when Virgil sings And drink the music in : Why should the trumpet's brazen voice, Or oaten reed, awake my joys, [begin? And yet my heart so stupid lie, when sacred hymns Change me, O God; my flesh shall be An instrument of song to thee, |