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His hours no longer pass unmark'd away,
Now let the bright reverse be known abroad; 710 Say man's a worm, and pow'r belongs to God.
As when a felon, whom his country's laws Have justly doom'd for some atrocious cause, Expects in darkness and heart chilling fears, The shameful close of all his mispent years ;
715 If chance, on heavy pinions slowly borne, A tempest usher in the dreaded morn, Upon his dungeon walls the lightnings play, The thunder seems to summon him away, The warder at the door his key applies,
720 Shoots back the bolt, and all his courage dies If then, just then, all thoughts of mercy lost, When hope, long ling’ring, at last yields the ghost, The sound of pardon pierce his startled ear, He drops at once his fetters and his fear;
725 A transport glows in all he looks and speaks, And the first thankful tears bedew his cheeks. Joy, far superiour joy, that much outweighs The comfort of a few poor added days, Invades, possesses, and o’erwhelms the soul 730 Of him, whom Hope has with a touch made whole. 'Tis Heav'n, all Heav'n descending on the wings Of the glad legions of the King of kirgs; 'Tis more—'tis God diffus'd through ev'ry part, 'Tis God himself triumphant in his heart
O welcome now the Sun's once hated light
740 Rocks, groves, and streams, must join him in his
praise. These are thy glorious works, eternal Truth, The scoff of wither'd age and beardless youth : These move the censure and illib’ral grin Of fools that hate thee and delight in sin: 745 But these shall last when night has quench'd the
pole, And Heav'n is all departed as a scroll. And when, as Justice has long since decreed, This earth shall blaze, and a new world succeed, Then these thy glorious works, and they who share That hope, which can alone exclude despair, 751 Shall live exempt from weakness and decay, The brightest wonders of an endless day.
Happy the bard, (if that fair name belong To him that blends no fable with his song,) 755 Whose lines uniting, by an honest art, The faithful monitor's, and poet's part, Seek to delight, that they may mend mankind, And while they captivate, inform the mind : Still happier, if he till a thankful soil,
760 And fruit reward his honourable toil : But happier far, who comfort those that wait To hear plain truth at Judah's hallow'd gate : Their language simple, as their manners meek ; No shining ornaments have they to seek ; 765 Nor labour they, nor time, nor talents waste, In sorting flow'rs to suit a fickle taste ; But while they speak the wisdom of the skies, Which art can only darken and disguise, Th’abundant harvest, recompense divine, 770 Repays their work—the gleaning only mine,
Quo nihil majus meliusve terris
Hor. lib. iv. Od. 2.
FAIREST and foremost of the train, that wait
15 By various ties attaches man to man He made at first, though free and unconfind, One man the common father of the kind ; That ev'ry. tribe, though plac'd as he sees best, Where seas or deserts part them from the rest, 20
Difføring in language, manners, or in face,
But though some nobler minds a law respect, 35 That none shall with impunity neglect, In baser souls unnumber'd evils meet, To thwart its influence and its end defeat. While Cook is lov'd for savage lives he sav'd, See Cortez odious for a world enslav'd!
40 Where wast thou then, sweet Charity! where then Thou tutelary friend of helpless men ; Wast thou in monkish cells and nunnʼries found, Or building hospitals on English ground ? No.—Mammon makes the world his legatee 45 Through fear, not love : and Heav'n abhors the fee: Wherever found, (and all men need thy care,) Nor age nor infancy could find thee there. The hand that slew till it could slay no more, Was glued to the sword hilt with Indian gore. 50 Their prince, as justly seated on his throne, As vain imperial Philip on his own, Trick'd out of all his royalty by art, That stripp'd him bare, and broke his honest heart, Died by the sentence of a shaven priest,
55 For scorning what they taught him to detest. How dark the veil that intercepts the blaze Of Heav'n's mysterious purposes and ways ;
God stood not, though he seem'd to stand, aloof;
O could their ancient Incas rise again,
Again—the band of commerce was design'd