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'Twas an unclouded sky: The day-star sat
On highest noon : No breezes fann' the grove,
Nor the musicians of the air pursu'd
Their artless warblings; while the sultry day
Lay all diffus'd and slumbering on the bosom
Of the wbite lily, the perfum'd jonquil,
And lovely blushing rose. Then first my harp,
Labouring with childisb innocence and joy,
Brake silence, and awoke the smiling bour
With infant notes, saluting the fair skies,
(Heaven's highest work) the fair enamell'd meads,
And tall green shades along the winding banks
Of Avon gently flowing. Thence my days,
Commenc'd harmonious ; there began my skill
To vanquish care care by the sweet-sounding strings

Hail happy hour, O blest remembrance hail !
And banish woes for ever. Harps were made
For heaven's beatitudes : There Jesse's son
Tunes his bold lyre with majesty of sound,
To the creating and all-ruling power
Not unattentive: While ten thousand tongues
Of hymning seraphs and disbodied saints,
Echo the joys and graces round the hills
Of paradise, and spread Messiah's name.
Transporting bliss ! Make haste, ye rolling spheres,
Ye circling suns, ye winged minutes haste.
Fulfil my destin'd period bere, and raise
Tbe meanest son of harmony to join
In that celestial concert.

IV.-The Hebrew Poet. This Ode represents the Difficulty of a just Translation of the

Psalms of David, in all their Hebrero Glory; with an

Apology for the Imitation of them in Christian Language. (The first Hint borrowed from Casimire, Jessæa quisquis, &c.

Book IV. Ode 7.) 1 SHEW me the man that dares and Softly the tuneful shepherd leads sings

Th Hebrew flocks to flow'ry meads; Great David's verse to British strings : He marks their path with notes divine, Sublime attenupt! but bold and vain While fountains spring with oil and As building Babel's tower again.

wine. 2 he bard* that climb'd to Cooper's- 5 Rivers of peace attend his song. Hill,

And draw their milky train along: Reaching at Zion, sham'd his skill, He jars; and lo, the flints are broke, And bids the sons of Albion own, But honey issues from the rock. That Judah's psalmist reign's alone.

6 When kindling with victorious fire, 3. Blest poet! now, like gentle Thames, He shakes his lance across the lyre; He soothes our with silver The lyre resounds unknown alarms, streams :

And sets th' Thunderer in arms.
Like his own Jordan, now he rolls,
And sweeps away our captive souls.


Sir John Denham, who gained great reputation by his poem called Cooper'sHill, failed in his translation of the Psalms of David.

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7 Behold the Cod! th' almighty King

18 See Jews and beatheus fir'd with rage, Rides on a tempest's glorious wing: See their combining pow'rs engage His ensigns lighten round the sky, Against th' Anointed of the Lord,

And moving legions sound on high. The man whom angels late ador'd. 8 Ten thousand cherubs wait his course, 19 God's only Son: Behold he dies;

Chariots of fire and flaming horse; Surprising grief! The groans arise,
Earth trembles; and her mountains The lyre complains on ev'ry string,

And mourns the murder of her king.
At his approach like melting snow.

20 But heav'n's Anointed must not dwell 9 But who these frowns of wrath can In death : The vanquish'd pow'rs of draw,

hell That strike hear'n, carth, and hell Yield to the harp's diviner lay;

with awe? Red lightning from his eye-lids 1 21 Messiah lives! Messiah reigns!

The grave resigns the illustrious prey. broke; His voice was thunder, hail and

The song surinounts the airy plains,

T'attend her Lord with joys unknown, smoke.

And bear the Victor to his throne. 10 He spake; the cleaving waters fled, And stars beheld the ocean's bed :

22 Rejoice, ye shining worlds on high,

Behold the Lord of glory nigh; Wbile the great master strikes his

Eternal doors your leaves display, lyre, You see the frighted floods retire.

To make the Lord of glory way.

23 What mortal bard has skill or force 11 In heaps the frighted billows stand, Waiting the changes of his hand;

To paint these scenes to tread this He leads his Israel througb the sea,


Or furnish through the ethereal road And watry mountains guard their

A triumph for a rising God? way:

24 Astonish'd at so vast a fight 12 Turning his hand with sov'reign

Thro' flaming worlds and floods of sweep,

light, He drowns all Egypt in the deep; Then guides the tribes a glorious

My muse her awful distance keeps

Still following but with trembling band

steps. Thro' desarts to the promis'd land.

25 She bids her humble verse explain, 33 Here camps with wide imbatul'd

The Hebrew harp's sublimer strain ; force, Here gates and bulwarks stop their

Points to her Saviour still, and shows

What course the sun of glory goes. course ; Ile storins the mounds, the bulwark 26 Here he ascends behind a cloud fails,

Of incense,* there he sets in blood;t The harp liesstrow'd with ruin'd walls. She reads his labours and his names 14 See his broad sword flies o'er the

In spicy smoke,t and bleeding

lainbs.t strings, And mows down nations, with their | 27 Rich are the graces which she draws kings:

From types, and shades, and Jewish from every chord liis bolts are hurl'd,

Andvengeancesmitesthe rebel world. With thousand glories long foretold
15 Lo, the great poet shifts the scene,

To turn the future age to gold.
And siews the face of God serene; 28 Grace is her theme, and joy, find love;
Truth, meckuess, peace, salvation

Descend, ye blessings, from above,

Aud crown my song. Eternal God, With guards of justice, at his side. - Forgive the muse that dreads thy rod. 16 No meaner muse conld weave the light || 29 Silent, she hears thy vengcance roll

To form his robes divinely bright; That crushes mortals to the soul,
Or frame a crown of stars to shine Nor dares assume the bold, nor sheds

With beams for Majesty divinc. Th'immortal curses on their heads. 17 Now in prophetic light he sees 30 Yet since her God is still the same,

Ages to come, and dark decrees ; And David's son is all her themo,
He brings the Prince of glory down, She begs some humble place to sing
Stript of his robe and stars

In concert with Judea's king.

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* Christ's intercession.

+ His sacrifice..

V.-The thankful Philosopher. AMONG all the useful and entertaining studies of pluilosophy, there is none so worthy of man as the science of human nature. There is none that furnishes us with more wonders of divine wisdom, or gives liigher occasion to a lore divine goodness. Charistus, a gentleman of great piety and wortlı, has spent many an hour upon this delightful theme. In the midst of his meditations one day, he was debating thus with himself, and enquiring what sort of being he was :

Now I stand, said be, pow I lie down; I rise again and walk, I eat, drivk and sleep; my pulse beats, and I draw the breath of life: Surely I have the parts and powers of an animal ; I am a living body of flesh and blood, a wonderful engine, with many varieties of motion. But let ine consider also what other actions I perform.

I think, I meditate and contrive, I compare things and judge of them; now I doubt, and then I believe; I will wliat I act, and sometimes wish what I cannot act : I desire and hope for what I have not, as well as am conscious of what I have, and rejoice in it: I look backward, and survey ages past, and I look forward into what is to come : Surely 1 inust be a spirit, a thinking power, a soul, something very distinct from this machine of matter with all its shapes and motions.

Mere matter put into all possible motion, can never think, reason, and contrive, can never hope and wishi, as I do, and survey distant times, the past and future: Yet it is as impossible also that a mind, a soul, should walk or lie down, should eat or drink ; but I feel, I know, I am assured I do all these. I perform some actions that cannot belong to a spirit, and some that flesh and blood can never pretend to.

What am I then ? What strange kind of being is this, which is conscious of all these different agencies, both of matter and spirit? What sort of thing can I be, who seem to think and reason in my head, who feel and am conscious of pain or easc, pot at my heart only, but at my toes and fingers too? clude then, I can be nothing else but a compound creature, made up of these two distinct beings, spirit and matter ; or, as we usually express it, soul and body.

It is very plain also to me, upon a small enquiry, that this body and this soul did not make themselves, nor one another. But did not I myself join these two different natures together when they were made ? Did not my soul take this body into union with itself? By no means; for the first moment that I knew any thing of myself, I found the powers of thought working in an animal pature ; that is, I found myself such a com

I con

rounded being as I now am ; I had no more hand in the union of these two principles, or in the composition of myself, than I bad in the making of those two distinct beings of which I am compounded : It was God only, that great God who created both parts of me, the animal and the mind, who also joined them together in so strange an union; and if I were to enter into the inysteries of this union, it would open a wide and various scene of amazement at his uosearchable wisdom.

But let me examine a little : Was there no ancient add early kindred between this particular spirit and this filesh of mine, this inind and this animal? Is there no original relation, no essential harmony and special congruity between my body and my soul, that should make their union necessary ? None at all that I can find, either by my sense or reflection, my reason or experience. These two beings have dwelt above thirty years together, strangely united into one, and yet I have never been able to trace any one instance of previous kindred between them. This mind might have been paired with any other human body; or this body with any other mind. I can find nothing but the sovereiga will of God that joined this miod and this animal body together, and made the wondrous compound : It was he ordained ine to be what I am, in all the circumstances of my Dativity.

Secst thou, O my soul, that unhappy cripple lyiug at thy neighbour's door, that poor mis-shaped piece of buman nature? Mark how uscless are bis limbs! he can neither support oor feed himself. Look over against him, there sits one that was blind from his birth, and begs his bread, if thou hadst. been originally united to either of these pieces of flesh and blood, then hadst thou been that poor cripple, or that very blind beggar.

Yonder lies a piteous spectacle, a poor infant that came into the world but three montlis' ago, its flesh covered with ulcers, and its bones patrifying with its father's'sins : I hear its whining cries, and long piteous wailings; its bitter groans touch my heart, and awaken all iny tenderness : Let me stand and reflect a little. Surely I had been that wretched thing, that little, pining, perishing infant, and all those pains and agonies bad been mine, if God had reserved my soul in his secret counsels till a few months ago, and then confined it to that unhappy mansion of diseased and dying flesh. Once more let my eyes affect my heart.

What a strange aukward creature do I see there! The form of it is as the form of a man, but its motions seem to be more irregular, and the animal more senseless than a very beast: Yet they tell me, it is almost forty years old. It might have been by this time a statesman, a philosopher, general of an army, or a learned divine ; but reasou could never act nor shew itself in that disordered engine. The tender brain was ruffled perhaps, and the parts of it disturbed in the very embryo, or perhaps it was shaken with convulsions when it first saw the light, but the place of its birth was the same with mine, and the neighbours say, it was born the next door to me. How miserable had I been, if, when the body was prepared, my soul had received order to go but one door farther, to fix its mortal dwelling there, and to manage that poor disabled machine! And if the spirit also that resides there had been united to my flesh, it had been a sad exchange for me: That idiot had been all that I was by nature, and I had been that idiot.

My meditations may rove farther abroad, may survey past ages and distant nations, and by the powers of fancy, I may set myself in the midst of them.

Had this spirit of mine been joined to a body formed in Lapland or Malabar, I had worshipped the images of Thor or Bramma; and perhiaps I had been a Lapland wizard with a conjuring drum, or a Malabariao priest, to wear out my life in ridiculous eastern ceremonies.

Had my soul been formed and united to a British body fifteen hundred years ago, I had been a painted Briton, a rude idolater, as well as my fathers; a superstitious druid had been my highest character, and I should have paid my absurd devotions to some fancied deity in a huge hollow oak, and lived and died in atter ignorance of the true God, and of Jesus my Saviour. Or had my spirit been sent to Turkey, Malomet had been my prophet, and the ridiculous stories of the Alcoran had been all my hope of eternal life.

If Gnatho the flatter er stood by, I know what he would bay, for he has told me already, that as my stature is tall and manly, so my genius is too sublime and bright to be buried under those clouds of darkness.

Last week he practised upon my vanity, so far as to say,

“ Charistus bas a soul and reason which would have led him to the knowledge of the true God, if he bad been born in the wilds of America, and had for his father a savage Iroquois, or bis ancestors had been all Naraganset Indians." But I gave him a just and sharp reproof for his want of 'sense, as well as for his flattery.

Fond foolish man, to imagine there are no geniuses which outshine me in the wild and barbarous world, no bright and sublime intellects but those which are appointed to act their part in the nations of Europe! Good sense and natural smartness are scattered among most of the nations of mankind. There are ingenious Africans, American wits, philosophers and poets id Malabar; there are both the sprightly and the stupid, the foolish and the wise, on this and on the other side of the great Atlantic ocean : But the brighter powers of nature cannot exert them

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