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Erect the beating heart, the channels frame,
Unfold entangled limbs, and kindle vital flame:
How the small pipes are in meanders laid,
And bounding life is to and fro convey'd;
How spirits, which for sense and motion serve,
Unguided find the perforated nerve,
Through every dark recess pursue their flight,
Unconscious of the road, and void of sight,

Yet certain of the way, still guide their motions right.

From thence a nobler flight she did essay,
The Mind's extended empire to survey.
She sung the godlike principle of thought,
And how, from objects by the senses brought,
The intellectual imagery is wrought;
How she the modes of beings can discern,
A nice respect, a mere relation learn;
Can all the thin abstracted notions reach,
Which Grecian wits, or, Britain, thine can teach.
Thus has the Muse strove to display a part
Of those unnumber'd miracles of art;
Of prudence, conduct, and a wise design,
Which to th' attentive thought conspicuous shine.
Still, vanquish'd atheists! will you keep the
field,

And, hard in errour, still refuse to yield?
See, all your broken arms lie spread around,
And ignominious rout deforms the ground;
Be wise, and, once admonish'd by a foe,
Where lies your strength, and where your weak-
ness, know;

No more at Reason's solemn bar appear,
Hardy no more scholastic weapons bear;
Disband your feeble forces, and decline
The war; no more in tinsel armour shine;
Nor shake your bullrush spears, but swift repair
To your strong place of arms, the scoffer's chair;
And thence, supported with a mocking ring,
Sarcastic darts, and keen invectives, fling
Against your foes, and scornful at your feasts
Religion vanquish with decisive jests;
Arm'd with resistless laughter, Heaven assail,
Relinquish reason, and let mirth prevail.

Good Heav'n! that men, who vaunt discerning
sight,

And arrogant from Wisdom's distant height
Look down on vulgar mortals, who revere
A Cause Supreme, should their proud building

rear,

Without one prop the ponderous pile to bear!
How much the Judge, who does in Heaven preside,
Re-mocks the scoffer, and contemns his pride!
Behold, the sad, unsufferable hour

Advances near, which will his errour cure; When he, compell'd, shall drink the wrathful bowl,

And, ruin'd, feel immortal vengeance roll
Through all his veins, and drench his inmost soul.
O'erwhelm'd with horrour, sunk in deep despair,
And lost for ever, will the wretch forbear

To curse his madness, and blaspheme the power
Of his just Sovereign, which he mock'd before?
Hail, King Supreme! of Power immense Abyss!
Father of Light! Exhaustless Source of Bliss!
Thou uncreated, Self-existent Cause,
Controll'd by no superior being's laws,
Ere infant light essay'd to dart the ray,
Smil'd heav'nly sweet, and try'd to kindle day :
Ere the wide fields of ether were display'd,
Or silver stars cerulean spheres inlaid,

Ere yet the eldest child of Time was born,
Or verdant pride young Nature did adorn;
Thou art; and didst eternity employ
In unmolested peace, in plenitude of joy.

In its ideal frame the world, design'd
From ages past, lay finish'd in thy mind.
Conform to this divine imagin'd plan,
With perfect art th' amazing work began.
Thy glance survey'd the solitary plains,
Where shapeless shade inert and silent reigns;
Then in the dark and undistinguish'd space,
Unfruitful, unenclos'd, and wild of face,

Thy compass for the world mark'd out the destin'd
place.
Then didst thou through the fields of barren Night
Go forth, collected in Creating Might.
Where thou almighty vigour didst exert,
Which emicant did this and that way dart
Through the black bosom of the empty space :
The gulphs confess th' omnipotent embrace,
And, pregnant grown with elemental seed,
Unfinish'd orbs and worlds in embryo breed.
From the crude mass, Omniscient Architect,
Thou for each part materials didst select,
And with a master-hand thy world erect.
Labour'd by thee, the globes, vast lucid buoys,
By thee uplifted, float in liquid skies:
By thy cementing word their parts cohere,
And roll by thy impulsive nod in air.
Thou in the vacant didst the Earth suspend,
Advance the mountains, and the vales extend:
People the plains with flocks, with beasts the wood,
And store with scaly colonies the flood.

Next, man arose at thy Creating Word,
Of thy terrestrial realms vicegerent lord.
His Soul, more artful labour, more refin'd,
And emulous of bright Seraphic Mind,
Ennobled by thy image, spotless shone,
Prais'd thee, her Author, and ador'd thy throne;
Able to know, admire, enjoy her God,
She did her high felicity applaud.

Since thou didst all the spacious worlds display,

Homage to thee let all obedient pay.

Let glittering stars, that dance their destin'd ring
Sublime in sky, with vocal planets sing
Confederate praise to thee, O Great Creator King!
Let the thin districts of the waving air,
Conveyancers of sound, thy skill declare.
Let winds, the breathing creatures of the skies,
Call in each vigorous gale, that roving flies
By land or sea; then one loud triumph raise,
And all their blasts employ in songs of praise.

While painted herald-birds thy deeds proclaim,
And on their spreading wings convey thy fame;
Let eagles, which in Heaven's blue concave soar,
Scornful of Earth, superior seats explore,
And rise with breasts erect against the Sun,
Be ministers to bear thy bright renown,
And carry ardent praises to thy throne.

Ye fish, assume a voice; with praises fill The hollow rock, and loud reactive hill. Let lions with their roar their thanks express, With acclamations shake the wilderness. Let thunder clouds, that float from pole to pole, With salvos loud salute thee as they roll. Ye monsters of the sea, ye noisy waves, Strike with applause the repercussive caves. Let hail and rain, let meteors form'd of fire, And lambent flames, in this blest work conspire

Let the high cedar and the mountain pine
Lowly to thee, Great King, their heads incline.
Let every spicy odoriferous tree
Present its incense and its balm to thee.

And thou, Heaven's viceroy o'er this
In this blest task superior ardour show:
To view thyself, inflect thy reason's ray,
Nature's replenish'd theatre survey;

world [below,

Then all on fire the Author's skill adore, And in loud songs extol Creating Power.

Degenerate minds, in mazy errour lost, May combat Heaven, and impious triumphs boast; But, while my veins feel animating fires, And vital air this breathing breast inspires, Grateful to Heaven, I'll stretch a pious wing, And sing his praise, who gave me power to sing.

THE

POEMS

OF

ELIJAH FENTON.

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