Prior.

Such as with joyous Wings have fled,
When happy Counfels were advifing;
Such as have lucky Omens fhed

O'er forming Laws, and Empires rifing;
Such as many Courfers ran,
Hand in Hand, a goodly Train,
To blefs the great ELIZA's Reign;
And in the Typic Glory fhow,
What fuller Blifs MARIA fhall bestow.
As the folemn Hours advance,
Mingled fend into the Dance
Many fraught with all the Treasures
Which Thy Eastern Travel views;
Many wing'd with all the Pleafures,
Man can afk, or Heav'n diffule:

That great MARIA all thofe Joys may know,
Which, from Her Cares, upon Her Subjects flow.

For thy own Glory fing our Sov'reign's Praise,
God of Verfes and of Days:

Let all thy tuneful Sons adorn

Their lafting Works with WILLIAM's Name;
Let chofen Mules yet unborn

Take great MARIA for their future Theme:
Eternal Structures let Them raife,

On WILLIAM and MARIA's Praile:
Nor want new Subject for the Song;

Nor fear they can exhauft the Store

'Till Nature's Mufick lies unftrung;

'Till Thou, great God, fhalt lofe Thy double Pow'r; And touch Thy Lyre, and fhoot Thy Beams no

more.

Thom

Thomson.

--

Thomson.

S. B. III. S. 267. Unmöglich kann ich hier die herrliche Hymne übergehen, womit dieser treffliche Dichter fein großes Gemåhlde der Jahrszeiten vollendete, ob sie gleich nicht die äußere lyrische Form hat, und auch in ihr das herrschende mahlerische Talent dieses Dichters am meis ften hervorleuchtet. Aber wie mächtig weiß er auch hier, wie überall, durch die Phantasie aufs Gefühl zu wirken, und dieses durch jene zu befeuern! Unter seinen vermischten Gedichten ist auch eine schöne Hymne auf die Einsamkeit,

--

A HYM N.

T

HESE, *) as they change, ALMIGHTY
thefe,

FATHER

Are but the varied GOD. The rolling Year
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleafing Spring
THY Beauty walks, THY Tendernefs and Love.
Wide-flufh the fields; the foftening Air is Balm;
Echo the Mountains round; the Foreft fmiles;
And every Senfe, and every Heart is Joy.
Then comes THY Glory in the Summer-Months,
With Light and Heat refulgent. Then THY Sun
Shoots full Perfection thro the swelling Year:
And oft THY Voice in dreadful Thunder fpeaks;
And oft at Dawn, deep Noon, or falling Eve,
By Brooks and Groves, in hollow-whispering Gales.
THY Bounty fhines in Autumn unconfin'd,
And fpreads a common Feaft for all that lives.
In Winter awful THOU! with Clouds and Storms
Around THEE thrown, Tempeft o'er Tempeft roll'd
Majestic Darknefs! on the Whirlwind's Wing.
Riding fublime, THOU bidft the World adore,
And humbleft Nature with THY northern Blast.

M 4

*) The four Seasons.

MYSTE

Prior.

MYSTERIOUS Round! what Skill, what Force di-
vine,

Deep felt, in Thefe appear! a fimple Train,
Yet fo delightful mix'd, with fuch kind Art,
Such Beauty and Beneficence combin'd;
Shade, unperceiv'd, fo foftening into Shade;
And all fo forming an harmonious Whole;
That, as they ftill fucceed, they ravish still.
But wandering oft, with brute unconfcious Gaze,
Man marks not THEE, marks not the mighty Hand,
That, ever-bufy, wheels the filent Spheres;

Works in the fecret Deep; fhoots, fteaming, then

се

The fair Profufion that o'erfpreads the Spring:
Flings from the Sun direct the flaming Day;
Feeds every Creature; hurls the Tempeft forth;
And, as on Earth this grateful Change revolves,
With Transport touches all the Springs of Life.

NATURE, attend! join every living Soul,
Beneath the fpacious Temple of the Sky,
In Adoration join; and, ardent, raise
One general Song! TO HIM, ye vocal Gales,
Breathe foft, whofe SPIRIT in your Freshness brea
thes:

Oh talk of HIM in folitary Glooms!

Where, o'er the Rock, the fcarcely-waving Pine
Fills the brown Shade with a religious Awe.
And ye, whofe bolder Note is heard afar,
Who shake th' astonish'd World, lift high to Hea-

ven

Th' impetuous Song, and fay from whom you

rage.

HIS Praife, ye Brooks, attune, ye trembling Rills;
And let me catch it as I mufe along.

Ye headlong Torrents, rapid, and profound;
Ye fofter Floods, that lead the humid Maze
Along the Vale; and thou, majestic Main,
A fecret World of Wonders in thyself,

Sound His ftupendous Praife; whole greater Voice

Or

Or bids you roar, or bids your Roarings fall;
Soft-roll your incenfe, Herbs, and Fruits, and Flow-

ers,

In mingled Clouds to HIM; whofe Sun exalts,
Whofe Breath perfumes you, and whofe Pencil
paints.

Ye Forests bend, ye Harvests wave, to HIM;
Breathe your still Song into the Reaper's Heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous Moon.
Ye that keep watch in Heaven, as Earth afleep
Unconscious lies, effufe your mildest Beams,
Ye Conftellations, while your Angels strike,
Amid the fpangled Sky, the filver Lyre.
Great Source of Day! beft Image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,

From World to World, the vital Ocean round,
On Nature write with every Beam HIS Praise.
The Thunder rolls: be hufh'd the proftrate World;
While Cloud to Cloud returns the folemn Hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye Hills: ye moffy Rocks,
Retain the Sound: the broad refponfive Low,
Ye vallays, mife; for the GREAT SHEPHERD reigns;
And his unfuffering Kingdom yet will come.
Ye Woodlands all, awake: a boundless Song
Burft from the Groves; and when the restless Day,
Expiring, lays the warbling World afleep,
Sweeteft of Birds! fweet Philomela, charm
The liftening Shades, and teach the Night HIS
Praife.

Ye chief, for whom the whole Creation fmiles;
At once the Head, the Hearf, and Tongue of all,
Crown the great Hymn! in fwarming Cities vaft,
Affembled Men, to the deep Organ join

The long-refounding Voice, oft-breaking clear,
At fotemn Paufes, thro the fwelling Bale;
And, as each mingling Flame increases each,
In one united Ardor rife to Heaven.
Or if you rather chufe the rural Shade,
And find a Fame in every facred Grove;

There let the Shepherd's Flute, the Virgin's Lay,

Prior.

Prior.

The prompting Seraph, and the Poet's Lyre,
Still fing the GOD OF SEASONS, as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling Theme,
Whether the Bloffom blows, the Summer-Ray
Ruffets the Plain, inspiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rises in the blackening East;

Be my Tongue mute, may Fancy paint no more,
And, dead to Joy, forget my Heart to beat!

SHOULD Fate command me to the fartheft Verge
Of the green Earth, to diftant barbarous Climes,
Rivers unknown to Song, where first the Sun
Gilds Indian Mountains, or his fetting Beam
Flames on th' Atlantic Isles; 'tis nought to me:
Since GOD is ever prefent, ever felt,
In the void Wafte as in the City full;'
And where HE vital spreads there must be Joy.
When even at laft the folemn Hour fhall come,
And wing my myftic Flight to future Worlds,
I chearfull will obey, There, with new Powers,
Will rifing Wonders fing: I cannot go
Where UNIVERSAL Love not fmiles around,
Sustaining all yon Orbs and all their Sons,
From feeming Evil still educing Good,
And Better thence again, and Better still,
In infinite Progreffion - But lofe
I
Myfelf in HIM, in LIGHT INEFFABLE!

Come then, expreílive Silence, mufe His Praife.

Aken