And childless mother at the judgment seat
Plead trumpet-tongu'd against them!-Here are
Who sunk an aged father to the grave; [they

Or, with unkindness hard, and cold disdain,
Slighted a brother's suff'rings.-Here are they
Whom fraud and skilful treachery long secur'd;
Who from the infant virgin tore her dow'r,
And ate the orphan's bread; who spent their stores
In selfish luxury; or o'er their gold

Prostrate and pale ador'd the useless heap.
Here too who stain'd the chaste connubial bed!-
Who mix'd the pois'nous bowl;-or broke the ties
Of hospitable friendship; and the wretch
Whose listless soul, sick with the cares of life,
Unsummon'd to the presence of his God
Rush'd in with insult rude. How would they joy
Once more to visit Earth, and, though oppress'd
With all that pain and famine can inflict,
Pant up the hill of life? Vain wish! the Judge
Pronounces doom eternal on their heads,
Perpetual punishment! Seek not to know
What punishment! for that th' Almighty will
Has hid from mortal eyes: and shall vain man
With curious search refin❜d presume to pry
Into thy secrets, Father? No! let him
With humble patience all thy works adore,
And walk in all thy paths; so shall his meed
Be great in Heav'n, so haply shall he 'scape
Th' immortal worm and never ceasing fire.

But who are they, who bound in tenfold chains
Stand horribly aghast? This is that crew
Who strove to pull Jehovah from his throne,
And in the place of Heaven's eternal King
Set up the phantom Chance. For them in vain

Alternate seasons cheer'd the rolling year;
In vain the Sun, or herb, tree, fruit, and flow'r
Shed genial influence mild; and the pale Moon
Repair'd her waning orb.-Next these is plac'd
The vile blasphemer; he, whose impious wit
Profan'd the sacred mysteries of faith,
And 'gainst th' impenetrable walls of Heav'n
Planted his feeble battery. By these stands
The Arch Apostate: he with many a wile
Exhorts them still to foul revolt. Alas!
No hope have they from black despair, no ray
Shines through the gloom to cheer their sinking
In agonies of grief they curse the hour [souls:
When first they left Religion's onward way.
These on the left are rang'd; but on the right
A chosen band appears, who fought beneath
The banner of Jehovah, and defied

Satan's united legions. Some, unmov'd

At the grim tyrant's frown, o'er barb'rous climes
Diffus'd the Gospel's light: some long immur'd
(Sad servitude!) in chains and dungeons pin'd;
Or, rack'd with all the agonies of pain,

Breath'd out their faithful lives. Thrice happy they
Whom Heav'n elected to that glorious strife!-
Here are they plac'd, whose kind munificence
Made heaven-born Science raise her drooping head;
And on the labours of a future race

Entail'd their just reward. Thou amongst these,
Good Seaton! whose well-judg'd benevolence
Fost'ring fair Genius, bade the poet's hand
Bring annual off'rings to his Maker's shrine,
Shalt find the generous care was not in vain.-
Here is that fav'rite band, whom mercy mild,
God's best-lov'd attribute, adorn'd; whose gate

Stood ever open to the stranger's call;
Who fed the hungry; to the thirsty lip

Reach'd out the friendly cup; whose care benign
From the rude blast secur'd the pilgrim's side;
Who heard the widow's tender tale, and shook
The galling shackle from the pris'ner's feet;
Who each endearing tie, each office knew
Of meek-eyed, heaven-descended Charity.
O Charity, thou nymph divinely fair!
Sweeter than those whom ancient poets bound
In amity's indissoluble chain,

The Graces! how shall I essay to paint
Thy charms, celestial maid! and in rude verse
Blazon those deeds thyself did'st ne'er reveal?
For thee nor rankling Envy can infect,
Nor rage transport, nor high o'erweening Pride
Puff up with vain conceit: ne'er didst thou smile
To see the sinner as a verdant tree

Spread his luxuriant branches o'er the stream;
While, like some blasted trunk, the righteous fall
Prostrate, forlorn. When prophecies shall fail,
When tongues shall cease, when knowledge is no
more,

And this great day is come, thou by the throne
Shalt sit triumphant. Thither, lovely maid!
Bear me, O bear me on thy soaring wing,
And through the adamantine gates of Heav'n
Conduct my steps, safe from the fiery gulf
And dark abyss, where Sin and Satan reign!

But can the Muse, her numbers all too weak, Tell how that restless element of fire

Shall wage with seas and earth intestine war,
And deluge all creation? Whether (so

Some think) the comet, as through fields of air

Lawless he wanders, shall rush headlong on
Thwarting th' ecliptic, where th' unconscious Earth
Rolls in her wonted course; whether the Sun
With force centripetal into his orb

Attract her, long reluctant; or the caves,
Those dread volcanos, where engend'ring lie
Sulphureous minerals, from the dark abyss
Pour streams of liquid fire; while from above,
As erst on Sodom, Heaven's avenging hand

Rains fierce combustion.-Where are now the
Of art, the toil of ages?-Where are now [works
Th' imperial cities, sepulchres and domes,
Trophies and pillars? Where is Egypt's boast,
Those lofty pyramids, which high in air
Rear'd their aspiring heads, to distant times
Of Memphian's pride a living monument ?—
Tell me where Athens rais'd her tow'rs? where
Thebes

Open'd her hundred portals!-Tell me where
Stood sea-girt Albion? where imperial Rome,
Propt by seven hills, sat like a sceptr❜d queen,
And aw'd the tributary world to peace ?—
Show me the rampart which o'er many a hill,
Through many a valley, stretch'd its wide extent,
Rais'd by that mighty monarch to repel
The roving Tartar, when with insult rude
'Gainst Pekin's tow'rs he bent th' unerring bow.
But what is mimic art? E'en Nature's work,
Seas, meadows, pastures, the meand'ring streams,
And everlasting hills, shall be no more.

No more shall Teneriffe, cloud-piercing height!
O'erhang th' Atlantic surge; nor that fam'd cliff,
Through which the Persian steer'd with many a
sail,

Throw to the Lemnian isle its evening shade
O'er half the wide Ægean.-Where are now
The Alps, that confin'd with unnumber'd realms,
And from the Black Sea to the ocean stream
Stretch'd their extended arms ?-Where's Ararat,
That hill on which the faithful patriarch's ark,
Which seven long months had voyag'd o'er its top,
First rested, when the Earth, with all her sons,
As now by streaming cataracts of fire,

Was whelm'd by mighty waters ?-All at once
Are vanish'd and dissolv'd; no trace remains,
No mark of vain distinction: heaven itself,
That azure vault, with all those radiant orbs,
Sinks in the universal ruin lost:

No more shall planets round their central Sun
Move in harmonious dance; no more the Moon
Hang out her silver lamp; and those fix'd stars,
Spangling the golden canopy of night,
Which oft the Tuscan with his optic glass
Call'd from their wond'rous height, to read their
And magnitude, some winged minister [names
Shall quench; and (surest sign that all on Earth
Is lost) shall rend from heaven the mystic bow.
Such is that awful, that tremendous day,
Whose coming who shall tell? For as a thief
Unheard, unseen, it steals with silent pace
Through night's dark gloom-Perhaps as here I sit,
And rudely carol these incondite lays,

[mouth Soon shall the hand be check'd, and dumb the That lisps the falt'ring strain.—O may it ne'er Intrude unwelcome on an ill-spent hour;

But find me wrapt in meditations high,
Hymning my great Creator!-