Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine.
Speak ye, who beft can tell, ye fons of light,
Angels; for ye behold him, and with fongs
And choral fymphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heav'n,
On Earth join all ye Creatures to extol

Him first, him last, him midft, and without end.
Faireft of ftars, laft in the train of night,

If better, thou belong not to the dawn,

Sure pledge of day, that crown'ft the fmiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere
While day arifes, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou fun, of this great world both eye and foul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; found his praise
In thy eternal courfe, both when thou climb'ft,
And when high noon haft gain'd, and when thou
fall'ft.

Moon, that now meet'ft the orient fun, now fly'ft
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wand'ring fires that move
In myftic dance, not without fong, refound
His praife, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle; multiform, and mix,

And nourish all things; let your coafelefs change

4

Vary to our great Maker ftill new praife,

Ye Mifts and Exhalations that now rife

From.

From hill or ftreaming lake, dufky or gray,
Till the fun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rife,
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd fky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling fhowers,
Rifing or falling ftill advance his praise.

His praife, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,

Breathe foft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines,
With every plant, in fign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye, that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warb'ling tune his praife.
Join voices all ye living Souls; ye Birds,
That finging up to Heaven-gate afcend,
Bear on your wings, and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and ftately tread, or lowly creep;
Witnefs if I be filent, morn or even,

To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh fhade,
Made vocal by my fong, and taught his praife.
Hail univerfal Lord, be bounteous ftill,
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light difpels the dark.

THE

THE HISTORY OF

ALMA MOULIN,

THE

SON OF NOURADIN.

N the reign of Jenghiz Can, conqueror of the east in the city of Samarcand, lived Nouradin the merchant, renowned throughout all the regions of India, for the extent of his commerce, and the integrity of his dealings. His warehouses were filled with all the commodities of the remoteft nations; every rarity of nature, every curiofity of art, whatever was valuable, whatever was ufeful, hafted to his hand. The ftreets were crowded with his carriages, the fea was covered with his fhips, the ftreams of Oxus were wearied with conveyance, and every breeze of the sky wafted wealth to Nouradin.

At length Nouradin felt himself feized with a flow malady, which he first endeavoured to divert by application, and afterwards to relieve by luxury and indulgence; but finding his ftrength every day lefs, he was at laft terrified, and called for help upon the fages of phyfic; they filled his apartments with alexipharmics, restoratives, and effential virtues, the pearls of the ocean were dif folved, the fpices of Arabia were diftilled, and all

the

the powers of nature were employed to give new fpirits to his nerves, and new balfam to his blood. Nouradin was for fome time amufed with promifes, invig rated with cordials, or foothed with anodynes; but the disease preyed upon his vitals, and he foon difcovered with indignation, that health was not to be bought. He was confined to his chamber, deferted by his phyficians, and rarely vifited by his friends; but his unwillingness to die flattered him long with hopes of life.

At length having paffed the night in tedious lan gour, he called to him Almamoulin, his only fon; and difmiffing his attendants, "My fon," fays he, "behold here the weaknefs and fragility of man: look backward a few days, thy father was great and happy, frefh as the vernal rofe, and ftrong as the cedar of the mountain; the nations of Afia drank his dews, and art and commerce delighted in his fhade. Malevolence beheld me and fighed: His root, fhe cried, is fixed in the depths; it is watered by the fountains of Oxus; it fends out branches afar, and bids defiance, to the blaft; prudence reclines against his trunk, and profperity dances on his top. Now, Almamoulin, look upon me withering and proftrate; look upon me and attend. I have trafficked, I have profpered, I have rioted in gain; my houfe is fplendid, my fer Q &

vants

vants are numerous; yet I difplayed only a fmali part of my riches; the reft, which I was hindered from enjoying by the fear of raifing envy, or tempting rapacity, I have piled in towers, I have buried in caverns, I have hidden in fecret repofitories, which this fcroll will difcover. My purpofe was, after ten months more spent in commerce, to have withdrawn my wealth to a fafer country; to have given feven years to delight and feftivity, and the remaining part of my days to folitude and repentance; but the hand of death is upon me, a frigorific torpor encroaches upon my veins; I am now leaving the produce of my toil, which it must be thy business to enjoy with wif dom." The thought of leaving his wealth filled Nouradin with fuch grief, that he fell into convulfions, became delirious, and expired.

Almamoulin, who loved his father, was touched awhile with honest forrow, and fat two hours in profound meditation, without perufing the paper which he held in his hand. He then retired to his own chamber, as overborne with affliction, and there read the inventory of his new poffeffions, which fwelled his heart with fuch tranfports, that he no longer lamented his father's death. was now fufficiently compofed to order a funeral of modeft magnificence, fuitable at once to the

He

rank