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POEMS.

ON A THUNDER STORM BY NIGHT.

WRITTEN AT WINCHESTER COLLEGE, AT THE AGE of

FOURTEEN.

[From J. Bowdler's Selection of Divine and Moral Poems. 1821. 12mo.]

LOCKED in the arms of balmy sleep,

From ev'ry care of day,

As silent as the folded sheep,
And as serene I lay.

Sudden tremendous thunders roll,
Quick lightnings round me glare;
The solemn scene alarms my soul,
And wakes the mind to prayer.

Whate'er, oh Lord! in this dread hour,
These awful sounds portend,
Whether sole engines of thy power,
Or groans for nature's end;

Vouchsafe amid this time of dread

Thy gracious arm to rear,

And save from death each friendly head,

And all my soul holds dear.

If, waked by thy vindictive hand,
This awful tempest stirs,

That peal the voice of thy command,
Those flames thy messengers;

Welcome the bolt, where'er it fall,
Beneath the passing sun;
Thy sov'reign will determines all,
And let that will be done!

By all such strong explosive shakes, One truth be understood;

The glorious God the thunder makes,
And all he makes is good.

But if, as Nature's laws ordain,
Not destin'd by thy will,
The bolt exerts its wild domain,
Self-authorized to kill;

Quick interpose, all-gracious Lord,
In this tremendous night,

Arise, and be alike ador'd

For mercy, and for might.

Let it not fall where riot foul
Pours forth the drunken jest;
Nor where the guilt-envenomed soul
Starts from its troubled rest.

Succour the couch where beauty lies,
All trembling, pale with fear;
Where sickness lifts its languid eyes,
Oh, pour thy comforts there.

Awhile, oh! spare those sinful breasts,
Whose deeds the night deform,
And strike where smiling virtue rests,
Unconscious of the storm.

Thus, on the awful judgment-day,
Whose image shakes the soul,

When keenest lightnings shoot their ray,
And loudest thunders roll;

Well pleased, oh Lord! each eye shall see
Those final thunders hurl'd,

And mark with joy, for love of thee,
The flash that melts the world.

THE GENEALOGY OF CHRIST;

AS IT IS REPRESENTED ON THE EAST WINDOW OF THE COLLEGE CHAPEL AT WINCHester.

Ar once to raise our rev'rence and delight,
To elevate the mind, and please the sight,
To pour in virtue at th' attentive eye,
And waft the soul on wings of ecstasy;
For this the painter's art with nature vies,
And bids the visionary saint arise.

Who views the sacred forms, in thought aspires,
Catches pure zeal, and as he gazes, fires;
Feels the same ardour to his breast convey'd,
Is what he sees, and emulates the shade.

Thy strokes, great artist, so sublime appear,
They check our pleasure with an awful fear,
While, through the mortal line, the God you trace,
Author himself, and heir of Jesse's race;

In raptures we admire thy bold design,
And, as the subject, own the hand divine.

While through thy work the rising day shall stream,
So long shall last thine honour, praise, and name.
And may thy labours to the muse impart
Some emanation from her sister art;

To animate the verse, and bid it shine
In colours easy, bright, and strong, as thine.
Supine on earth an awful figure lies,
While softest slumbers seem to seal his eyes.
The hoary sire heav'n's guardian care demands,
And at his feet the watchful angel stands.
The form august and large, the mien divine,
Betray the founder' of Messiah's line.
So from his loins the promis'd stem ascends,
And high to heav'n its sacred boughs extends;
Each limb productive of some hero springs,
And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings.

Th' eternal plant wide spreads its arms around,

And with the mighty Branch the mystic top is crowned.
And, lo! the glories of th' illustrious line
At their first dawn with ripen'd splendour shine;
In David all express'd, the good, the great,
The king, the hero, and the man complete ;
Serene he sits, and sweeps the golden lyre,
And blends the prophet's, with the poet's fire.
See with what art he strikes the vocal strings,
The God, his theme, inspiring what he sings!
Hark!―or our ears delude us-from his tongue
Sweet flows, or seems to flow, some heavenly song.
Oh! could thine art arrest the flitting sound,
And paint the voice in magic numbers bound;
Could the warm sun, as erst when Memnon played, ·
Wake with his rising beam the vocal shade:
Then might he draw th' attentive angels down,
Bending to hear the lay, so sweet, so like their own.
On either side the monarch's offspring shine,
And some adorn, and some disgrace their line.
Here Ammon glories; proud, incestuous lord!
This hand sustains the robe, and that the sword.
Frowning and fierce, with haughty strides he towers,
And on his horrid brow defiance lowers.

1 Jesse.

There Absalom the ravish'd sceptre sways,
And his stol'n honour all his shame displays;
The base usurper youth! who joins in one
The rebel subject, and th' ungrateful son!

Amid the royal race see Nathan stand:
Fervent he seems to speak, and lift the hand;
His looks th' emotion of his soul disclose,
And eloquence from every gesture flows.
Such and so stern he came, ordain'd to bring
Th' ungrateful mandate to the guilty king:
When, at his dreadful voice, a sudden smart
Shot through the trembling monarch's conscious heart,
From his own lips condemn'd; severe decree,
Had his God proved so stern a judge as he!
But man with frailty is alloyed by birth,
Consummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth:

Through all the soul though virtue holds her reign,
Beats at the heart, and springs in every vein;
Yet ever from the clearest source have ran
Some gross alloy, some tincture of the man.
But who is he? deep musing in his mind,
He seems to weigh, in reason's scales, mankind:
Fixed contemplation holds his steady eyes,
I know the sage', the wisest of the wise.
Blessed with all man could wish, or prince obtain,
Yet his great heart pronounced those blessings vain.
And lo! bright glittering in his sacred hands,
In miniature the glorious temple stands:
Effulgent frame! stupendous to behold!

Gold the strong valves, the roof of burnished gold.
The wandering ark, in that bright dome enshrin'd,
Spreads the strong light, eternal, unconfin'd:
Above th' unutterable glory plays,

Presence divine! and the full-streaming rays
Pour through reluctant clouds intolerable blaze.

1 Solomon.

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