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Lends to his fifer orb inferior day,
And paints the filver moon's alternate ray :
Thy hand the waste of eating time renews,
Thow shed'st che tepid morning's balmy dews
When raging winds the blacken:d deep deform,
Thy spirit rides commission'd in the storm }
Bids at thy will the flack'ning tempelt ceafe,
While the calm d occan smooths its ruffled face ;
When light'nings thro' che air tremendous fly,
Or the blue plaguc is loosen'd to destroy,
Thy hand directs, or turns aside the stroke,
Thy word the fatal cdi&t can revoke; l'i
When subterrancous fires the surface heave,
And towns are bury'd in one common grave ;
Thou fuffer'it not the mischicf to prevail,
Thy sov'reign touch the recent wound can heal.
To Zembla's rocks thou send it the chearful gleam,
O'er Libya's lands thou pour'st the cooling (tream;
Thy watchful Providence o'er all intends,
Thy works obey their great Creator's ends. .
And all the ills we feel-or bliss we share,
Are tokens of a heav'nly Father's care.
When man too long the paths of vice pursu'd,
Thy hand prepard the universal flood;
Gracious, to Noah gave the timely fign,
To save a remnant from the wrath divine !
One shining waste the globe terrestrial lay, And the ark heav'd along the troubled fea; Thou bad'lt the deep his antient bed explore, The clouds their watry deluge pour'd no more! The skies were clear'd, -the mountain tops were seen, The dove pacific brought the olive-green. On Ararat the happy Patriarch tost, Found the recover'd world his hopes had lost; There his fond eyes review'd the pleasing scene, The earth all verdant, and the air serene ! Its precious freight the guardian ark display'd, While Noah grateful adoration paid ! Beholding in the many-tinctur'd bow, The promise of a safer world below. When wild ambition rear'd its impious head, And rising Babel heav'n with pride survey'd ; Thy word the mighty labour could confound, And leave the mass to moulder with the ground. From the mad coil, while social order sprung A peopled world-distinct by many a tongue. From Thee all human actions take their springs, The rise of empires, and the fall of kings ! See the vast theatre of time display'd, While o'er the scene succeeding heroes tread! With pomp the shining images fucceed, What leaders triumph! and what monarchs bleed!
Perform the parts thy Providence assign'd, Their pride, their paflions to thy ends inclin'd: A while they glitter in the face of day, Then at thy nod the phantoms pass away ; No traces left of all the busy scene, But that remembrance says, -The things have been ! While learning thro' the gloom benighted Arays, And the dim objects vanish as we gaze! “ But (questions doubt) whence fickly nature feels “ The ague-fits her face so oft reveals ? “ Whence earthquakes heave the earth's astonish'd
breat ? " Whence tempests rage? or yellow plagues infeft? “ Whence draws rank Afric her empoison's fores? “ Or liquid fires explosive Ætna pours ?" Go, sceptic mole! demand th' eternal cause, The secret of his all-preserving laws ? The depths of Wisdom infinite explore, And ask thy Maker ?—why thou know'lt no more ? Thy error fill in mortal things as great, As vain to cavil at the ways of fate. To ask why prosp'rous vice so oft succeeds, Why suffers innocence, or virtue bleeds! Why monsters, nature mult with blushes own, By crimes grow pow'rful, and disgrace a thrcne ! 4
Why saints and sages, mark'd in ev'ry age,
Perish, the victims of tyrannic rage !
Why Socrates for truth and freedom fell,
While Nero reign'd the delegate of hell!
In vain by reason is the maze pursu'd,
Of ill triumphant, and afflicted good.
Fix'd to the hold, so might the failor aim
To judge the pilot, and the steerage blame ;
As we direct to God what should belong,
Or say that sov'reign Wisdom governs wrong.
Nor always vice does uncorrected go,
Nor virtue unrewarded pass below!
Oft sacred justice lifts her awful head,
And dooms the tyrant and th' ufurper dead;
Oft Providence, more friendly than severe,
Arrests the hero in his wild career ;
Directs the fever, poinard or the ball,
By which an Ammon, Charles, or Cæsar fall :
Or when the cursed Borgias * brew the cup
For merit,-bids the monsters drink it up;
On violence oft retorts the cruel spear,
Or fetters cunning in its crafty snare:
Relieves the innocent, exalts the juft,
And lays the proud oppreffor in the dust!
* Pope Alexander VI. and his son, Cæsar Borgia. Sec Mr. Gordon's history.
But falt as Time's swift pinions can convey,
Haltens the pomp of that tremendous day,
When to che view of all created eyes,
God's high tribunal fall majestic rise,
· When the loud trumpet Mall assemble round
The dead, reviving at the piercing sound !
Where men and angels shall to audit come,
And millions yet unborn receive their doom!
Then shall fair Providence, to all display'd,
Appear divinely bright without a shade;
In light triumphant all her acts be shown,
And blushing doubt, eternal Wisdom own!
Mean while, thou great intelligence supreme,
Sov'reign director of this mighty frame,
Whose watchful hand, and all observing ken,
Fashions the hearts, and views the
Whether thy hand the plenteous table spread,
Or measure sparingly the daily bread;
Whether or wealth or honours gild the scene,
Or wants deform, and wasting anguish itain;
On thee let truth and virtue firm rely,
Bless'd in the care of thy approving eye!
Know that thy Providence, their conflant friend,
Thro' life shall guard them, and in death attend;
With everlasting arms their cause embrace,
And crown she paths of picty with peace.