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Thy aid, O ever faithful, ever kind! Thro' life, through death, attends the virtuous mind; Of angry fate wards from us ev'ry blow, Cures ev'ry ill, and softens ev'ry wo. Whatever good our mortal state desires, What wisdom finds, or innocence inspires ; From nature's bounteous hand whatever flows, Whate'er our Maker's providence bestows, By thee mankind enjoys; by thee repays A grateful tribute of perpetual praise.FITZGERALD

SECTION VIII.

Providence.

Lo! now the ways of heaven's eternal King
To man are open!
Review them and adore ! Hear the loud voice
Of Wisdom sounding in her works !-"Attend,
Ye sons of men! ye children of the dust,
Be wise ! Lo! I was present, when the Sire
Of heav'n pronounc'd his fiat; when his eye
Glanc'd thro' the gulf of darkness, and his hand
Fashion'd the rising universe :- I saw,
O'er the fair lawns, the heaving mountains raise
Their pipe-clad spires; and down the shaggy cliff
]
gave

the rill to murmur. The rough mounds
That bound the madd’ning deep; the storm that roan
Along the desert : the volcano fraught
With burning brinzstone ;-) prescribe their ends.

rule the rushing winds, and, on their wings
Triumphant, walk the tempest.-To my call
Obsequious bellows the red bolt, that tears
The cloud's thin mantle, when the gushing show'r
Descending copious bids the desert bloom."

“I gave to man's dark search superior light,
And clear'd dim reason's misty view, to mark
His pow'rs, as through revolving ages tried,
They rose not to his Maker. Thus prepar'd
To know how distant from his narrow ken
The truths by hear'n reveal'd, my hand display'd
The plan fair op'ning, where each nobler view,
That swells th' expanding heart; each glorious hope,

That points ambition to its goal ; each aim,
That stirs, exalts, and animates desire ;
Pours on the mind's rapt sight a noon-tide ray."

“ Nor less in life employ'd, 'tis mine to raise
The desolate of heart; to bend the brow
Of stubborn pride, to bid reluctant ire
Subside ; to tame rude nature to the rein
Of virtue. What tho', screen'd from mortal view,
I walk the deep’ning gloom? What tho' my ways,
Remote from thought's bewilder'd search, are wrapt
In triple darkness ?-Yet I work the springs
Of life, and to the gen'ral good direct
Th' obsequious means to move._0 ye, who toss'd
On life's tumultuous ocean, eye the shore,
Yet far remov'd ; and wish the happy hour,
When slumber on her downy couch shall lull
Your cares to sweet repose ; yet bear awhile,
And I will guide you to the balmy climes
Of rest ; will lay you by the silver stream
Crown'd with elysian bow'rs, where peace extends
Her blooming olive, and the tempest pours
Its killing blast no more.' Thus Wisdom speaks
To man ; thus calls him thro’ the external form
Of nature, thro' Religion's fuller noon,
Thro? life's bewild'ring mazes ; to observe
A PROVIDENCE IN ALL.

OGILVIE.

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Ar the destin'd hour,
By the loud trumpet summon'd to the charge,
See, all the formidable sons of fire,
Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play
Their various engines ; all at once disgorge
Their blazing magazines ; and take by storm
This poor terrestrial citadel of man.
Amazing period ! when each mountain-height
Out-burns Vesuvius; rocks eternal pour
Their melted mass, as rivers once they pour'd;
Stars rush ; and final ruin fiercely drives
Her ploughshare o'er creation !-while aloft,
More than astonishment ! if more can be !
Far other firmament than e'er was seen,

Than e'er was thought by man ! fár other stars !
Stars animate, that govern these of fire ;
Far other sun !-A sun, O how unlike
The babe at Bethlem, How unlike the man
That groan'd on Calvary !-Yet we it is ;
That man of sorrows! O how chang'd! what pomp !
In grandeur terrible, all heav'n descends :
A swift archangel, with his golden wing,
As blots and clouds, that darken and disgrace
The scene divine, sweeps stars and suns aside.
And now, all dross remov'd, heaven's own pure day,
Full on the confines of our ether, flames :
While, (dreadful contrast !) far, how far beneath!
Hell, bursting, belches forth her blazing seas,
And storms sulphureous; her voracious jaws
Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey.

At midnight; when mankind is wrapp'd in peace,
And worldly fancy feeds on golden dreams,
Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more !
The day is broke, which never more shall close !
Above, around, beneath, amazement all!
Terror and glory join'd in their extremes !
Our God in grandeur, and our world on fire !
All nature struggling in the pangs of death!
Dost thou not hear her ? dost thou not deplore
Her strong convulsions, and her final groan ?
Where are we now? Ah me! the ground is gone
On which we stood ! Lorenzo ! while thou mayst,
Provide more firm support, or sink for ever!
Where ? how ? from whence ? vain hope! it is too late !
Where, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly,
When consternation turns the good man pale !
Great day! for which all other days were made

;
For which earth rose from chaos ; man from earth i
And an eternity, the date of gods,
Descended on poor earth-created man!
Great day of dread, decision, and despair !
At thought of thee, each sublunary wish
Lets its

eager grasp, and drops the world ;
And catches at each reed of hope in heav'n.
Already is begun the grand assize,
In us, in all ; deputed conscience scales
The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom ;
Forestalls ; and, by forestalling, proves it sure.

go

Why on himself should man void judgment pads :
Is idle nature laughing at her sons ?
Who conscience sent, her sentence will support,
And God above assert that God in man.
Thrice happy they, that enter now the court
Heav'n opens in their bosoms; but how rare !
Ab me! that magnanimity, how rare !
What hero, like the man who stands himself ?
Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ;
Who hears intrepid the full charge it brings,
Resolv'd to silence future murmurs there?
The coward flies ; and, flying, is undone.
Shall man alone, whose fate, whose final fate,
Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his thought:?
I think of nothing else ; I see! I feel it!
All nature, like an earthquake, trembling round!
I see the Judge enthron'd! the flaming guard !
The volume open'd! open'd ev'ry heart !
A sun-beam pointing out each secret thought!
No patron! intercessor none ! now past
The sweet, the clement, mediatorial hour !
For guilt no plea! to pain, no pause! no bound!
Inexorable, all ! and all extreme !
Nor man alone ; the foe of God and man,
From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain,
And rears his brazen front, with thunder scarr'd.
Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll
His baleful eyes! he curses whom he dreads ;
And deems it the first moment of his fall. YOUNQU

CHAPTER IV.

PATHETIC PIECES.

SECTION I.

Hymn to Humanity.
PARENT of virtue, if thine ear

Attend not now to sorrow's cry ;
If now the pity-streaming tear

Should haply on thy cheek be dry ;
Indulge my votive strain, O sweet Humanity!

Come, ever welcome to my breast,
A tender, but a cheerful guest!
Nor always in the gloomy cell
Of life-consuming sorrow dwell ;
For sorrow,

long indulg'd and slow,
Is to Humanity a foe ;
And grief, that makes the heart its prey,
Wears sensibility away.
Then comes, sweet nymph, instead of thee
The gloomy fiend Stupidity.
O
may

that fiend be banish'd far,
Though passions hold perpetual war!
Nor ever let me cease to know
The pulse that throbs at joy or wo.
Nor let my vacant cheek be dry,
When sorrow fills a brother's eye ;
Nor may the tear that frequent flows
From private or from social woes,
E’er make this pleasing sense depart:
Ye cares, O harden not my heart !
If the fair star of fortune smile,
Let not its flatt’ring pow'r beguile ;
Nor, borne along the fav’ring tide,
My full sails swell with bloating pride,
Let me from wealth but hope content,
Rememb'ring still it was but lent;
To modest merit spread my store,
Unbar my hospitable door;
Nor feed, for pomp, an idle train,
While want unpitied pines in vain.
If Heav'n, in ev'ry purpose wise,
The envied lot of wealth denies ;
If doom'd to drag life's painful load
Through poverty's uneven road,
And, for the due bread of the day,
Destin'd to toil as well as pray ;
To thee, Humanity, still true,
I'll wish the good I cannot do ;
And give the wretch, that passes by,
A soothing word—a tear-a sigh.
Howe'er exalted, or deprest,
Be ever mine the feeling breast.
From me remove the stagnant mind
Of languid indolence, reclin'd;

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