Obrazy na stronie
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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 mayest ; 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 every 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 ; 2. 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 fing their foam against thy chalky shore ? Mistress, at least while Providence shall please, . And trident-bearing queen of the wide seas Why, 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 power, 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 préss'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 wild expanse, Impatient to descry the flags of France : But, though they fight as thine have ever fought, Return, asham’d, without the wreaths they soughts Thy senate is a scene of civil jar; Chaos of contrarieties at war ; Where sharp and solid, phlegmatic and light, Discordant atoms meet, ferment, and fight ;) Where obstinacy takes his sturdy stand, To disconcert what policy has plann'd; Where policy is buried all night long In setting right what faction has set wrong ; Where fails of oratory thresh 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 burthen 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 heavenly 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 power
That balances the wings of every hour,
The busy trifler dreams himself alone,
Frames many a purpose, and God works his own.
States thrive or wither, as moons wax and wane,
Even 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 error right athwart
The web of every scheme they have at heart ;
Bids rottenness invade and bring to dust
The pillars of support, in which they trust,
And do his errand of disgrace and shame
On the chief strength and glory of the frame.
None ever yet impeded what he wrought ;
None bars him out from his most secret thought :
Darkness itself before his eye is light,
And hell's close mischief naked in his sight.

Stand now, and judge thyself.--Hast thou incurr'd His anger, who can waste thee with a word, Who poises and proportions sea and land, Weighing them in the hollow of his hand,

And in whose awful sight all nations seem
As grasshoppers, as dust, a drop, a dream?
Hast thou (a sacrilege his soul abhors)
Claim'd all the glory of thy prosperous wars?
Proud of thy fleets and armies, stolen the gem
Of his just praise, to lavish it on them?
Hast thou not learn’d what thou art often told,
A truth still sacred, and believ'd of old,
That no success attends on spears and swords
Unblest, and that the battle is the Lord's ?
That courage is his creature, and dismay
The post that, at his bidding, speeds away,
Ghastly in feature, and his stammering tongue
With doleful humour and sad presage hung,
To quell the valour of the stoutest heart,
And teach the combatant a woman's part ?
That he bids thousands fly when none pursue,
Saves as he will, by many or by few,
And claims forever, as his royal right,
Th’ event and sure decision of the fight ?

Hast thou, though suckled at fair freedom's breast, Exported slavery to the conquer'd east, Pull'd down the tyrants India serv'd with dread, And rais'd thyself, a greater, in their stead? Gone thither arm’d and hungry, return'd full, Fed from the richest veins of the Mogul, A despot big with power obtain'd by wealth, And that obtain'd by rapine and by stealth ? With A siatic vices stor'd thy mind, But left their virtues and thine own behind i

And, having truck'd thy soul, brought home the fee, To tempt the poor to sell himself to thee?

Hast thou by statute shov'd from its design The Saviour's feast, his own blest bread and wine, And made the symbols of atoning grace An office-key, a pick-lock to a place, That infidels may prove their title good, By an oath dipp'd in sacramental blood ? A blot that will be still a blot, in spite Of all that grave apologists may write ; And, though a bishop toil to cleanse the stain, He wipes and scours the silver cup in vain. And hast thou sworn, on every slight pretence, Till perjuries are common as bad pence, While thousands, careless of the damning sin, Kiss the book's outside, who ne'er look within ? Hast thou, when Heaven has cloth'd thee with dis

grace, And, long provok'd, repaid thee to thy face, (For thou hast known eclipses, and endur'd Dimness and anguish, all thy beams obscur'd, When sin has shed dishonour on thy brow ; And never of a sabler hue than now) Hast thou, with heart perverse and conscience sear’d, Despising all rebuke, still persever'd, And, having chosen evil, scorn’d the voice That cried, Repent !-and gloried in thy choice? Thy fastings, when calamity at last Suggests th' expedient of a yearly fast, VOL. 1.

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