DIE FRÜKLINGSFEYER, FROM KLOPSTOCK: THE VERNAL ECSTACY. I will not plunge me in th' abyss of worlds; Only around this earth, Drop of the bucket, only earth around When from th' Almighty hand Forth shot the vaster planets-the young light Rushed in bright streams-the seven-fold stars were born; And floods of radiance poured, as from the hills What are the countless crowds, the myriads all But thou on green-gold wings, That flutter'st near me, beetle of the spring! Ah! haply not immortal: I left the world t'adore Why weep I?-O! forgive, Forgive these tears a flittering insect draws, Thou! who for ever art. 'Tis thine alone each rising doubt to solve, O, thou! who through the vale of death's dark shade If, too, this gilded worm a soul possess. Art thou but moulded dust, Child of the spring?-The changeful dust may still As wills th' Almighty sire. Flow fresh my eyes! In tears of rapture flow. Praise thou the Lord. Wreath'd is my harp again, With palm leaves, wreath'd :-I sing the Lord of life. Here stand I-all around Is wonder-all omnipotence around. With shuddering awe I gaze upon creation, The nameless Thou! Gav'st it a being. Soft breezy airs that round my glowing cheeks But now scarce breathe they :-all is dead repose; Deep spread the clouds o'er heaven; He comes, to sight revealed-th' Almighty comes. Now sweep, rush, whirl the winds, Rends all the forest, heaves the torrent flood; Now art thou seen, dread Spirit! eyes, Deep bends the wood, the torrent raves,—but I Yet is this night with blessings big to earth- Father of all!-offended thou art not. O that my heart could praise thee as it would! See ye the signals of his march? the flash Wide streaming round?-the thunder of his voice Hear ye? Jehovah's thunder? the dread peal Hear ye, -that rends the concave? Lord God supreme! Compassionate and kind! Praised be thy glorious name! Prais'd and ador'd! How sweeps the whirlwind! leader of the storm! How screams discordant! and, with headlong waves, Again new signals press;-enkindled broad, See ye the lightnings? hear ye from the clouds, But not our cot: Our heavenly Father bade Th' o'erwhelming power Pass o'er our cot, and spare it. And, now, abruptly, now Rush heav'n and earth in floods of bounteous rain; Earth, O, how parch'd! exults; And heav'n unloads the blessings it contain❜d. Now comes no more Jehovah clad in storms: In soft still murmurs now Jehovah comes; And broad beneath him bends the bow of peace. LONDON INSTITUTION.* On its being first opened in King's Arms Yard, Coleman Street, under a When the 'Change and the Bank seiz'd the seat of Apollo, * This little satire was composed after a conversation, in which the author had remarked that it was easy to turn into burlesque the best designed projects; as he would prove. Far from being disposed to ridicule this useful Institution, he was for some years an active member of its committee, and on more than one occasion composed odes, &c. for recitation at its anni versaries. While Cam and old Isis, thus robb'd of their right, To drive off the vapours, and clear up the sky. But Apollo, who saw what sad work they were making, Descended from heav'n in a terrible taking, And drove them all home with a taste of his whip, From Newton to Crocker, from Science to Scrip. July, 1814. PEACE TO THE WORLD-OR, THE BRITISH SONG. Peace to the world!-the deed is done; And foaming bites the ground. |