That moving signal summoning, when best, Their host to move, and when it stay'd, to rest. For them the rocks dissolv'd into a flood, The dews condens'd into angelick food, Their very garments sacred, old yet new, And Time forbid to touch them as he flew ; Streams, swell❜d above the bank, enjoin'd to stand, While they pass'd through to their appointed land; Their leader arm'd with meekness, zeal, and love, And grac❜d with clear credentials from above; Themselves secur'd beneath th' Almighty wing! Their God their captain,* lawgiver, and king; Crown'd with a thousand victʼries, and at last Lords of the conquer'd soil, there rooted fast, In peace possessing what they won by war, Their name far publish'd, and rever'd as far; Where will you find a race like theirs, endowed With all that man e'er wish'd, or Heav'n bestow'd? They, and they only, amongst all mankind, Receiv'd the transcript of th' eternal mind; Were trusted with his own engraven laws, And constituted guardians of his cause; Theirs were the prophets, theirs the priestly call, And theirs by birth the Saviour of us all. In vain the nations, that had seen them rise With fierce and envious yet admiring eyes, Had sought to crush them, guarded as they were By pow'r divine, and skill that could not err. Had they maintain❜d allegiance firm and sure, And kept the faith immaculate and pure,

Then the proud eagles of all-conqu❜ring Rome
Had found one city not to be o'ercome;

And the twelve standards of the tribes unfurl'd
Had bid defiance to the warring world.

But
grace
abus'd brings forth the foulest deeds,
As richest soil the most luxuriant weeds.
Cur'd of the golden calves, their fathers' sin,
They set up self, that idol god within ;
View'd a Deliv'rer with disdain and hate,
Who left them still a tributary state;
Seiz'd fast his hand, held out to set them free
From a worse yoke, and nail'd it to the tree:
There was the consummation and the crown,
The flow'r of Israel's infamy full blown;
Thence date their sad declension and their fall,
Their woes not yet repeal'd, thence date them all.
Thus fell the best instructed in her day,

And the most favour'd land, look where we may.
Philosophy indeed on Grecian eyes

Had pour'd the day, and clear'd the Roman skies;
In other climes perhaps creative Art,
With pow'r surpassing theirs, perform'd her part,
Might give more life to marble, or might fill
The glowing tablets with a juster skill,
Might shine in fable, and grace idle themes
With all th' embroid❜ry of poetick dreams;
'Twas theirs alone to dive into the plan,

That Truth and Mercy had reveal'd to man;
And while the World beside, that plan unknown,
Deified useless wood, or senseless stone,
They breath'd in faith their well-directed pray'rs,
And the true God, the God of truth, was theirs.

Their glory faded, and their race dispers❜d,

The last of nations now, though once the first;

They warn and teach the proudest, would they learn,

Keep wisdom, or meet vengeance in your turn:

If we escap'd not, if Heav'n spar'd not us,
Peel'd, scatter'd, and exterminated thus ;

If Vice receiv'd her retribution due,
When we were visited, what hope for you?
When God arises with an awful frown
To punish lust, or pluck presumption down;
When gifts perverted, or not duly priz❜d,
Pleasure o'ervalued, and his grace despis❜d,
Provoke the vengeance of his righteous hand,
To pour down wrath upon a thankless land;
He will be found impartially severe,
Too just to wink, or speak the guilty clear.
Oh Israel, of all nations most undone!
Thy diadem displac'd, thy sceptre gone;
Thy temple, once thy glory, fall'n and ras'd,
And thou a worshipper e'en where thou mayst;
Thy services, once holy, without spot,

Mere shadows now, their ancient pomp forgot;
Thy Levites, once a consecrated host,

No longer Levites, and their lineage lost,

And thou thyself o'er ev'ry country sown,

With none on Earth that thou canst call thine own; Cry aloud, thou that sittest in the dust,

Cry to the proud, the cruel, and unjust;

Knock at the gates of nations, rouse their fears; Say wrath is coming, and the storm appears; But raise the shrillest cry in British ears.

What ails thee, restless as the waves that roar, And fling their foam against thy chalky shore? Mistress, at least while Providence shall please, And trident-bearing queen of the wide seasWhy, having kept good faith, and often shown Friendship and truth to others, find'st thou none? Thou that hast set the persecuted free,

None interposes now to succour thee.
Countries indebted to thy pow'r, that shine
With light deriv'd from thee, would smother
thine;

Thy very children watch for thy disgrace

A lawless brood, and curse thee to thy face.
Thy rulers load thy credit, year by year,
With sums Peruvian mines could never clear;
As if, like arches built with skilful hand,

The more 'twere press'd the firmer it would stand.
The cry in all thy ships is still the same,
Speed us away to battle and to fame.
Thy mariners explore the wide expanse,
Impatient to descry the flags of France;

But, though they fight as thine have ever fought,
Return asham'd without the wreaths they sought.
Thy senate is a scene of civil jar,

Chaos of contrarieties at war;

Where sharp and solid, phlegmatick and light,
Discordant atoms meet, ferment, and fight;
Where Obstinacy takes his sturdy stand,
To disconcert what Policy has plann'd;
Where Policy is busied all night long
In setting right what Faction has set wrong;

Where flails of oratory thrash the floor,

That yields them chaff and dust, and nothing more.
Thy rack'd inhabitants repine, complain,

Tax'd till the brow of Labour sweats in vain;
War lays a burden on the reeling state,

And peace does nothing to relieve the weight;
Successive loads succeeding broils impose,
And sighing millions prophesy the close.

Is adverse Providence, when ponder'd well,
So dimly writ, or difficult to spell,

Thou canst not read with readiness and ease
Providence adverse in events like these?
Know then that heav'nly wisdom on this ball
Creates, gives birth to, guides, consummates all;
That, while laborious and quick-thoughted man
Snuffs up the praise of what he seems to plan,
He first conceives, then perfects his design,
As a mere instrument in hands divine:
Blind to the working of that secret pow'r,
That balances the wings of ev'ry hour,
The busy trifler dreams himself alone,

Frames many a purpose, and God works his own.
States thrive and wither as moons wax and wane,
E'en as his will and his decrees ordain;

While honour, virtue, piety, bear sway,
They flourish; and as these decline, decay:
In just resentment of his injur'd laws,

He pours contempt on them and on their cause;
Strikes the rough thread of errour right athwart
The web of ev'ry scheme they have at heart;
Bids rottenness invade and bring to dust
The pillars of support, in which they trust,