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The PRAISE of the MORNING; Or, The Sluggard Reproved. THOMSON, NALSELY luxurious, will not Man awake

And, springing from the Bed of Sloth, enjoy The cool, the fragrant, and the filent Hour, To Meditation due, and facred Song ? For is there ought in Sleep can charm the Wise! To lye in dead Oblivion, losing Half The feeting Moments of too short a Life ? Total Extinction of the enlighten'd Soul ; Or else to feverish Vanity alive, Wilder'd, and tossing thro' distemper’d Dreams? Who would in such a gloomy State remain, Longer than Nature craves ; when every Muse And every blooming Pleasure wait without, To bless the wildly-devious Morning Walk ?

A Storm of Thunder and Lightening. THOMSON.

"T"

IS listening Fear, and dumb Amazement all:

When to the startled Eye the sudden Glance Appears far South, eruptive thro' the Cloud; And following flower, in Explofion vaft, The Thunder raises his tremendous Voice. At first, heard solemn o'er the Verge of Heaven, The Tempest growls ; but as it nearer comes, And rolls its awful Burden on the Wind, The Lightnings flash a larger Curve and more The Noise astounds : 'till over Head a Sheet Of livid Flame discloses wide, then shuts And opens wider, shuts and opens still Expansive, wrapping Ether in a Blaze.

Fol

Follows the loosen'd aggravated Roar,
Enlarging, deepening, mingling, Peal on Peal
Cruth'd horrible, convalsing Heaven and Earth.

Down comes a Deluge of sonorous Hail, Or prone-descending Rain. Wide-rent, the Clouds Pour a whole Flood; and yet, its Flame unquench'd, Th’ unconquerable Light’ning struggles thro' Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling Balls, And fires the Mountain with redoubled Rage, Black from the Stroke, above, the finouldring Pine Stands a sad shatter'd Trunk; and, stretch'd below, A lifeless Groupe the blafted Cattle lie; Here the soft Flocks, with that same harmless Look They wore alive, and ruminating still In Fancy's Eye ! and there the frowning Bull, And Ox half-rais'd, Struck on the castled Cliff, The venerable Tower and spiry Fane Refign their aged Pride. The gloomy Woods Start at the Flash, and from the deep Recess, Wide-flaming out, their trembling Inmates shake. Amid Carnarvon's Mountains rages

loud The repercussive Roar : with mighty Crush, Into the flashing Deep, from the rude Rocks Of Penmanmaur heap'd hideous to the Sky, Tumble the smitten Cliffs ; and Snowden's Peak, Diffolving, instant yields his wintry Load. Far feen, the Heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, And Thule bellows thro' her utmost Illes.

A Prayer Prayer for the Prosperity of Great Britain.

THOMson.

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Thou! by whose almighty Nod the Scale

Of Emp.re rites, or aiternate falls, Send forth the saving VIRTUES round the Land, In bright Patrole: White Peace, and social Love; The tender-looking Charity, intent On gentle Deeds, and shedding Tears thro' Smiles; Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of Mind; Courage compos'd, and keen; found Temperance, Healthful in Heart and Look; clear Chejtity With Blahes reddening as the moves along, Disorder'd at the deep Regard the draws; Rough Inauftry, Activity untirid, With copious Life inform’d, and all awake; While in the radiant Front, superior Shines That first paternal Virtue, public Zeal, Who throws o'er all an equal wide Survey, And, ever musing on the common Weal, Still labours glorious with fome great Design.

Moral Reflections on a future State, THOMSON.

US done!- Dread WinToR sprede his

latest Glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd Year. How dead the vegetable Kingdom lies! How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends His desolate Domain. Behold, fond Man! See here thy pictur’d Life; pass some few Years Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent

Strength,

Thy

T'hy fober Autumn fading into Age,
And pale concluding Winter comes at last,
And shuts the Scene. Ah! whither now are fed
Those Dreams of Greatness; those unfolid Hopes
Of Happiness? those Longings after Fame?
Those restless Cares? those bufy buitling Days ?
Those gay-spent, festive-Nights ? those veering

Thoughts,
Loft between Good and Ill, that shar'd thy Life ?
All now are vanish'd! Virtue fole survives,
Immortal, never failing Friend of Man,
His Guide to Happiness on high. And see !
Tis come, the glorious Morn! the fecond Birth
Of Heaven and Earth! Awakening Nature hears
The new-creating Word, and starts to Life,
In every heighten'd Form, from Pain and Death
For ever free. The great eternal Scheme
Involving All, and in a perfect Whole
Uniting, as the Prospe& wider spreads.
To Reason's Eye refin'd clears up apace.
Ye vainly Wile! ye blind Presumptuous ! now,
Confounded in the Dust, adore that Power,
And Wisdom oft arraign’d: See now the Cause,
Why unassuming Worth in secret liv’d,

sad dy'd, neglected: Why the good Man's Sl "In Life was Gall and Bitterness of Sou; Why the lone Widow, and her Orphans pin’d, In starving Solitude : while Luxury, In Palaces, lay straining her low Thoughts, To form unreal Wants : Why. Heaven-born Truth And Moderation fair, wore the red Marks Of Superftition's Scourge; Why licens’d Pain, That cruel Spoiler, that emboson'd Foe,

Im

Imbitter'd all our Bliss. Ye good Distrest!
Ye noble Few! who here unbending stand
Beneath Life's Pressure, up a while,
And what your bounded View, which only faw
A little Part, deem'd Evil is no more:
The Storms of Win’try Time will quickly pass,
And one unbounded Spring encircle Al.

yet bear

APR A T E R.

THOMSON.

F

ATHER of Light and Life! thou good supreme!

O teach me what is good! teach me Thyself! Save me from Folly, Vanity, and Vice, From every low Pursuit ! and feed

my

Soul With Knowledge, conscious Peace, and Virtue Pure, Sacred, substantial, never-fading Bliss !

Man a Miracle to Himself.

YOUNG,

H

OW poor? how rich ? how abject? how august?

How passing wonder HE, who made him such? Who center'd in our Make such strange Extremes ? Erom different Natures marvelously mixt, Connexion exquisite of distant Worlds ! Distinguisht Link in Being's endless Chain! Midway from Nothing to the Deity ! A Beam æthereal, fully'd, and absorpt! Tho' sally'd and dishonour'd, still Divine ! Dim Miniature of Greatness absolute ! An Heir of Glory! a frail Child of Dust! Helpless Immortal ! Infe&t Infinite ! A Worm! a God !--I tremble at myself, F

And

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