Sigh not, ye winds, as passing o'er

The chambers of the dead you fly; Weep not, ye dews, for these no more

Shall ever weep, shall ever sigh.

PARAPHRASE

Of the 63d chapter of Isaiah to the 6th verse.

A PINDARIQUE ODE.

Strange scene of glory! am I well awake;

Or is't my fancy's wild mistake? It cannot be a drean, bright beams of light Flow from the visions face, and pierce my tender

sight.

No common vision this, I see
Some marks of more than human Majesty.

Who is this mighty Hero, who?
With glories round his head, and terror in his

brow? From Bozrah lo he comes, a scarlet die

O'erspreads his cloaths, and does outrie

The blushes of the morning sky. Triumphant and victorious he appears, And honour in his looks and habit wears;

How strong he treads, how stately does he go!

Pompous and solemn is his pace, And full of Majesty, as is his face.

Who is this mighty Hero, whu ?'Tis I who to my promise faithful stand, I who the powers of death, hell, and the grave,

Have foil'd with this all-conquering hand, I who most ready am, and mighty too to save.

Why wear'st thou then this scarlet die ?

Say, mighty Hero, why?
Why do thy garments look all red
Like them that in the wine-fat tread ?

The wine-press I alone have trod,
That vast unwieldly frame, which long did stand
Unmov'd, and which no mortal force could e'er

command,
That ponderous mass I ply'd alone

And with me to assist were none;
A mighty task it was, worthy the Son of God.
Angels stood trembling at the dreadful sight,
Concern'd with what success I should go through

The work I undertook to do;

Inrag'd I put forth all my might
And down the engine press'd, the violent force
Disturb’d the universe, put nature out of course.
The blood gush'd out in streams, and chequer'do'er

My garments with its deepest gore;
With ornamental drops bedeck'd I stood,
And writ my victory with my enemy's blood.

The day, the signal day is come
When of my enemies I must vengeance take;

The day when death shall have its doom, And the dark kingdom with its powers shall shake. Fate in her calendar mark'd out this day with red, She folded down the iron leaf, and thus she said, This day, if ought I can divine be true,

Shall for a signal victory Be celebrated to posterity:

Then shall the Prince of light descend, And rescue mortals from th' infernal fiend, Break through his strongest forts, and all his host

subdue. This said, she shut the adamantine volume close, And wish'd she might the crouding years transpose; So much she long to have the scene display, And see the vast event of this inportant da.y.

And now in midst of the revolving years,

This great, this mighty one appears :

The faithful traveller the sun
Hasnumber'd out the days, and the set period run.

I look'd and to assist was none,
My angelick guards stood trembling by,

But durst not venture nigh :
In vain too from my Father did I look

For help, my Father ine forsook

Amaz'd I was to see

How all deserted me,
I took my fury for my sole support

And with my single arm the conquest wun.
Loud acclamations fill'd all Heaven's court,

The hymning guards above,
Strain'd to an higher pitch of joy and love,
The great Jehovah prais'd, and his victorious Soni

INVITATION OF MERCY.

Come! said Jesus' sacred voice,
Come and make my paths your choice;
I will guide you to your home;
Weary pilgrim, hither come!

Thou, who houseless, sole forlorn,
Long hast born the proud world's scorn,
Long hast ruam'd the barren waste
Weary pilgrim, hither haste!

Ye who, tost on beds of pain,
Seek for ease, but seek in vain :
Ye, whose swoln and sleepless eyes
Watch to see the morning rise :

Ye by fiercer anguish torn,
In strong remorse for guilt who mours

Here repose your heavy care :
A wounded spirit who can bear?

Sinner, come! for here is found
Balm that flows for ev'ry woand !
Peace that ever shall endure,
Rest eternal, sacred sure.

CONTEMPLATION OF THE WORKS OF

NATURE.

Eternal wisdom! thee we praise,

Thee the creation sings;
With thy great name, rocks, hills, and seas,

And heav'n's high palace rings.

How wide thy hand hath spread the sky!

How glorious to behold,
Ting'd with a blue of heav'nly die,

And starr'd with sparkling gold !

There thou hast bid the globes of light

Their endless circles run;
The paler planet rules the night,

The day obeys the sun.