I

grant that from fome moffy, idol oak,
In double rhymes our Thor and Woden spoke;
And by fucceffion of unlearned times,

As Bards began, fo Monks rung on the chimes.
But now that Phoebus and the facred Nine,

With all their beams on our bleft ifland fhine,
Why should not we their ancient rites restore,
And be, what Rome or Athens were before?

<* Have we forgot how Raphael's numerous profe • Led our exalted fouls through heavenly camps, And mark'd the ground where proud apoftate thrones Defy'd Jehovah! Here, 'twixt hoft and hoft,

< (A narrow, but a dreadful interval)

• Portentous fight! before the cloudy van • Satan with vaft and haughty ftrides advanc'd, • Came towering arm'd in adamant and gold. There bellowing engines, with their fiery tubes, • Difpers'd æthereal forms, and down they fell By thousands, angels on arch-angels roll'd; • Recover'd, to the hills they ran, they flew, Which (with their ponderous load, rocks, waters, • woods)

• From their firm feats torn by the shaggy tops

• They bore like shields before them through the air, • Till more incens'd they hurld them at their foes. All was confufion, heaven's foundations fhook, Threatning no lefs than univerfal wreck, For Michael's arm main promontories flung,

An effay on blank verse, out of Paradise Loft, B. VI.

• And

And over-preft whole legions weak with fin: Yet they blafphem'd and struggled as they lay, • Till the great enfign of Meffiah blaz'd,

‹ And (arm'd with vengeance) God's victorious Son (Effulgence of paternal deity)

Grafping ten thousand thunders in his hand,

• Drove th' old original rebels headlong down,
And fent them flaming to the vast abyss.'
O may I live to hail the glorious day,
And fing loud pæans through the crowded way,
When in triumphant state the British Muse,
True to herself, fhall barbarous aid refuse,
And in the Roman majesty appear,

Which none know better, and none come fo near.

A PARAPHRASE

CXLVIII th

Azure vaults! O crystal sky!

The world's tranfparent canopy,

Break your long filence, and let mortals know
With what contempt you look on things below.

Wing'd squadrons of the god of war,
Who conquer wherefoe'er you are,

Let echoing anthems make his praises known
On earth his footstool, as in heaven his throne.

Grea

Great eye of all, whofe glorious ray
Rules the bright empire of the day,
O praise his name, without whofe purer light
Thou hadst been hid in an abyfs of night.

Ye moon and planets, who dispense, By God's command, your influence; Refign to him, as your Creator due, That veneration which men pay to you,

Faireft, as well as first, of things,
From whom all joy, all beauty fprings ;
O praife th' Almighty Ruler of the globe,
Who ufeth thee for his empyreal robe.

Praise him ye loud harmonious spheres,
Whofe facred stamp all nature bears,

Who did all forms from the rude chaos draw,
And whofe command is th' univerfal law:

Vaft ever-moving orbs, exalt his name,

Who gave its being to your glorious frame.

Ye dragons, whose contagious breath
Peoples the dark retreats of death,

Change your fierce hiffing into joyful fong,
And praise your Maker with

your forked tongue.

Praise him, ye monsters of the deep,

That in the seas vaft bofoms fleep;

At whofe command the foaming billows roar,
Yet know their limits, tremble and adore.

Ye mifts and vapours, hail and fnow,

And you who through the concave blow, Swift executors of his holy word,

Whirlwinds and tempefts, praife th' Almighty Lord.

Mountains, who to your Maker's view Seem lefs than mole-hills do to you, Remember how, when firft Jehovah spoke, All heaven was fire, and Sinai hid in smoke.

Praise him, fweet offspring of the ground, With heavenly nectar yearly crown'd; And ye tall cedars, celebrate his praife, That in his temple facred altars raife.

Idle muficians of the fpring,

Whofe only care's to love and fing,

Fly through the world, and let your trembling throat

Praise your Creator with the sweetest note.

Praife him each favage furious beaft,
That on his ftores do daily feast:

And you tame flaves of the laborious plow,
weary knees to your Creator bow.

Your

Majestic

Majeftic monarchs, mortal gods,
Whofe power hath here no periods,

May all attempts against your crowns be vain!
But ftill remember by whofe power you reign.

Let the wide world his praifes fing,
Where Tagus and Euphrates fpring,

And from the Danube's frofty banks, to those
Where from an unknown head great Nilus flows.

You that difpofe of all our lives,

Praife him from whom your power derives ; Be true and just like him, and fear his word, As much as malefactors do your fword.

Praife him, old monuments of time;
O praise him in your youthful prime;
Praife him, fair idols of our greedy fenfe;
Exalt his name, fweet age
of innocence.

Jehovah's name fhall only last,

When heaven, and earth, and all is paft: Nothing, great God, is to be found in thee, But unconceivable eternity.

Exalt, O Jacob's facred race,

The God of gods, the God of grace; Who will above the ftars your empire raife, And with his glory recompenfe your praise.

A PRO