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On whom for consolation shall I call?
fatal, fatal stroke!
And ev'ry scheme of bliss our hearts had form'd
Would thy fond love his grace to her controul,
Whose peaceful path and ever-open gate
Venit summa dies, VIRGIL.
WHILE others sing the fortune of the great,
This globe is for my verse a narrow bound;
Hear, and assist a feeble mortal's lays;
But chiefly thou, Great Ruler! Lord of all ! Before whose throne archangels prostrate fall; If at thy nod, from discord and from night, Sprang beauty, and yon sparkling worlds of light, Exalt ev'n me; all inward tumults quell; The clouds and darkness of my mind dispel; To my great subject thou my breast inspire, And raise my lah'ring soul with equal fire.
Man, bear thy brow aloft, view ev'ry grace In God's great offspring, beauteous nature's face: See spring's gay bloom; see golden autumn's store; See how earth smiles, and hear old ocean roar. Here forests rise, the mountain's awful pride; Here rivers measure climes, and worlds divide; Therevallies, fraught with gold's resplendent seeds, Hold kings, and kingdoms fortunes in their beds: There, to the skies, aspiring hills ascend, And into distant lands their shades extend.. View cities, armies, fleets; of fleets the pride, See Europe's law, in Albion's channel ride; View the whole earth's vast landscape unconfin'd. Or view in Britain all her glories join'd.
Then let the firmament thy wonder raise; Twill raise thy wonder, but transcend thy praise. How far from east to west? The lab'ring eye Can scarce the distant azure bounds descry: Wide theatre! where tempests play at large, And God's right-hand can all its wrath discharge. Mark how those radiant lamps inflame the pole, Call forth the seasons, and the year control! They shine through time with an unalter'd ray: See this grand period rise, and that decay! So vast, this world's a grain: yet myriads grace, With golden pomp, the throng'd ethereal space; So bright with such a wealth of glory stor's, 'Twere sin in heathens not to have ador'd.
How great, how firm, how sacred, all appears! How worthy an immortal round of years! Yet all must drop as autumn's sickliest grain, And earth and firmament be sought in vain: The track forgot where constellations shone, Or where the Stuarts filld an awful throne: Time shall be slain, all nature be destroy'd, Nor leave an atom in the mighty void.
Sooner or later in some future date, (A dreadful secret in the book of fate!) This hour, for aught all human wisdom knows, Or when ten thousand harvests more have rose;