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Startle, startl'd, startl'dst, startles, startl'st, sweet'n, sweet'n'd, sweet'ns, true, watch, watch'd, watch'dst, writes, writ'st.
THE Savior comes! by ancient bards foretold :
Hear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eyeball pour the day:
'Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear :
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap, exulting, like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear;
From every face he wipes off every tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air;
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms:
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promised father of the future age.
No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet, with hateful eyes;
Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er ;
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun;
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field.
The swain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Waste, sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn,
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn:
To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.
The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead.
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake;
Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
And with their forky tongues shall innocently play.
Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise!
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend!
See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,
And heaped with products of Sabean springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine!
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fixed his word, his saving power, remains;
Thy realm forever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!
Prov'd, prov'dst, grov'l, grov'll'd, grov'l'st, grov'ls, heav'n, heav'ns, proves, prov'st.
SOMETIMES a party, rowed from town, will land
On a small islet formed of shelly sand,
Left by the water when the tides are low,
But which the floods in their return o'erflow';
There will they anchor, pleased a while to view
The watery waste, a prospect wild and new:
The now receding billows give them space
On either side the growing shores to pace;
And then, returning, they contract the scene,
Till small and smaller grows the walk between ;
As sea to sea approaches, shores to shores,
Till the next ebb the sandy isle restores.
Then what alarm, what danger and dismay,
If all their trust - their boat should drift away!
And once it happened. Gay the friends advanced;
They walked, they ran, they played, they sang, they danced;
The urns were boiling, and the cups went round,
And not a grave or thoughtful face was found;
On the bright sand they trod with nimble feet,
Dry, shelly sand, that made the summer-seat;
The wondering mews flew fluttering o'er the head,
And waves ran softly up their shining bed.
Some formed a party from the rest to stray,
Pleased to collect the trifles in their way;
These to behold, they call their friends around;
No friends can hear, or hear another sound;
Alarmed, they hasten, yet perceive not why,
But catch the fear that quickens as they fly.
For, lo! a lady sage, who paced the sand
With her fair children, one in either hand,
Intent on home, had turned, and saw the boat
Slipped from her moorings, and now far afloat.
She gazed, she trembled, and, though faint her call,
It seemed, like thunder, to confound them all.
Their sailor-guides, the boatman and his mate,
Had drank, and slept regardless of their state.
"Awake!" they cried aloud: "alarm the shore!
Shout, all, or never shall we reach it more!"
Alas! no shout the distant land can reach,
Nor eye behold them from the foggy beach.
Again they join in one loud, powerful cry,
Then cease, and eager listen for reply:
None came- the rising wind blew sadly by.
They shout once more, and then they turn aside,
To see how quickly flowed the coming tide;
Between each cry they find the waters steal
On their strange prison, and new horrors feel;
Foot after foot, on the contracted ground
The billows fall, and dreadful is the sound;
Less and yet less the sinking isle became,
And there was wailing, weeping, wrath, and blame.
Had one been there, with spirit strong and high,
Who could observe, as he prepared to die,
He might have seen of hearts the varying kind,
And traced the movements of each different mind;
He might have seen, that not the gentle maid
Was more than stern and haughty man afraid.
Such, calmly grieving, will their fears suppress,
And silent prayers to Mercy's throne address;
While fiercer minds, impatient, angry, loud,
Force their vain grief on the reluctant crowd.
The party's patron, sorely sighing, cried,
"Why would you urge me? I at first denied."
Fiercely they answered, "Why will you complain,
Who saw no danger, or was warned in vain?"
A few essayed the troubled soul to calm;
But dread prevailed, and anguish, and alarm.
Now rose the water through the lessening sand,
And they seemed sinking while they yet could stand.
The sun went down; they looked from side to side,
Nor aught except the gathering sea descried.
Dark and more dark, more wet, more cold, it grew,
And the most lively bade to hope adieu.
Children, by love then lifted from the seas,
Felt not the waters at the parent knees,
But wept aloud; the wind increased the sound,
And the cold billows as they broke around.
"Once more, yet once again, with all our strength,
we may be heard at length."
But hark! an oar,
Cry to the land-
Vain hope, if yet unseen!
That sound of bliss! comes
Still, still the water rises.
"O, hurry, seamen ! In delay we die!".
(Seamen were these who in their ship perceived
The drifted boat, and thus her crew relieved.)