H Y

A

M N.

THE

HESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, thefe Are but the varied GOD. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleafing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields; the foftening air is balm; Echo the mountains round; the foreft fmiles; And every fenfe, and every heart is joy. Then comes THY glory in the Summer-months, With light and heat refulgent. Then THY fun Shoots full perfection thro' the fwelling 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 ftorms Around THEE thrown, tempeft o'er tempest roll'd, Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing, Riding fublime, THOU bidft the world adore, And humbleft Nature with THY northern blast. Myfterious round! what fkill, what force divine, 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 unconscious gaze,
Man marks not THEE, marks not the mighty hand,
That, ever-busy, wheels the filent spheres;
Works in the fecret deep; fhoots, fteaming, thence
The fair profufion that o'erfpreads the Spring:
Flings from the fun direct the flaming day;
Feeds every creature; hurls the tempeft forth;
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With tranfport touches all the fprings of life.
NATURE, attend! join every living foul,
Beneath the fpacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join; and, ardent, raise
One general fong! To HIM, ye vocal gales,

Breathe foft, whofe SPIRIT in your freshness breathes=
Oh talk of HIM in folitary glooms!

Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine
Fills the brown fhade with a religious awe.

And ye, whofe bolder note is heard afar,
Who fhake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven
Th' impetuous fong, and fay from whom you rage.
His praife, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I muse 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; whofe greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Soft-roll your incenfe, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to HIM; whofe fun exalts,
Whofe breath perfumes you, and whofe pencil paints.

Ye forefts bend, ye harvests wave, to HIM;
Breathe your still fong into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effufe your mildest beams,
Ye conftellations, while your angels ftrike,
Amid the fpangled fky, the filver lyre.
Great source of day! best 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 mofy rocks,
Retain the found: the broad refponfive lowe,
Ye valleys, raise; for the GREAT SHEPHERD reigns;
And his unfuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless fong
Burst from the groves! and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds! fweet Philomela, charm

The listening shades, and teach the night His praise.
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation fmiles,
At once the head, the heart, 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 folemn pauses, through the fwelling bafe;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardor rife to heaven.

Or if you rather chuse the rural fhade,
And find a fane in every facred grove;
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
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 fummer-ray
Ruffets the plain, infpiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rifes in the blackening east;

Be my tongue mute, my 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 distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to fong; where first the fun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on th' Atlantic ifles; 'tis nought to me: Since GOD is ever present, ever felt,

In the void wafte as in the city full;

And where HE vital breathes there must be joy.
When even at laft the folemn hour fhall come,
And wing my myftic flight to future worlds,
I chearful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rifing wonders fing: I cannot go
Where UNIVERSAL LOVE not fmiles around,
Suftaining all yon orbs, and all their fons;
From feeming Evil ftill educing Good,
And Better thence again, and Better still,
In infinite progreffion. But I lofe

Myfelf in HIM, in LIGHT INEFFABLE;

Come then, expreffive filence, mufe His praise.

THE

CASTLE

O F

INDOLENCE.

AN ALLEGORICAL POEM.