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THE LAST DAY.

EXTRACT FROM A MANUSCRIPT POEM.

HE day of Doom, the all-important day,

Tising, that link extreme of time, which joins

The measur'd chain of days, and months, and years,
To one eternal, one effulgent day. :

Day to the children of the day; but night,
Eternal night, to all the sons of darkness.
The time affix'd by God's decree arrives.

Th' Almighty spake heav'n open'd wide her gates.
The herald, Gabriel, far advanc'd in front,
Rais'd on seraphic wings, first issued forth.
Next the creation's Sire, veil'd in a cloud

Of awful gloom, from which red lightnings flash'd,
And rending thunders roar'd, pass'd through the gates.
At his right hand sat his eternal Son,

High rais'd upon a golden throne emboss'd

With gems, that sparkled through the cloud. Angels
And saints, the countless host of those, who hold
The realms of bliss, next in procession mov'd :
Nor could the wide-extended space from Aries
To the scales, that poise the hemispheres
Contain the army of the skies.

The earth had never seen a larger host,

Than when the foe of Greece spread o'er the land
And sea from Hebrus to Thermopyla;

But this was small compar'd with what the heavens
New saw, as earth is small compar'd with heaven.
The numerous stars, that hold their course along
The milky-way, and in the neigh'bring skies,
No sooner saw their Maker cloth'd in storms,
And felt his thunder shake their solid spheres,
Then trembling they retire; as when some king
Enrag'd frowns on his slaves, who flee his face,
Till he commands them stand and hear his will.
So had the frighted stars fled off and left

The

The mundane space all void, had not the trump
Of Gabriel interpos'd and with a voice
More loud, than ever yet creation heard,
Impress'd the mandates of all nature's God
Upon all nature's works. Ye stars! (said he)
Return, and hold your station in your orbs;
There stand and see what He on earth transacts
This day, and witness how He deals with man.
Thou sun! who from the birth of time hast roll'd
Thy chariot round the world, and shed thy beams
Alike on all mankind, look on and see
The equal justice of thy God to man
Outshine thy equal rays. Th' affrighted earth
Took the alarm of heav'n: the atmosphere
Assay'd to flee upon the wings of storm.
Fierce tempests beat the lofty mountains' side,
Sweep forests down, and spread destruction o'er
The works of man. The troubled ocean heaves:
His surging billows mingle with the clouds:
His deepest caverns lie expos'd to view.

The earth, convuls'd from her deep centre, heaves.
Order forsook the world: discord spread wide.
The confus'd elements again had join'd
The listless empire of primeval chaos,
Had not harmonic sounds assuag'd their tumult.
Spirit divine! thou soul of harmony

In heaven and earth, breathe through my lines and speak
The power of music's charms, when heavenly love
Warm'd every breast of angels, seraphim,
And doubly glow'd in the Almighty's Son;
Who like a bridegroom clad in smiling youth
And robes of peace, prepar'd to meet his bride.
The lightnings ceas'd; the thunders died, when he
Complacent smil'd. Gabriel, and all the choir
Of heaven, said he, hush the commoved world,
And wake the sleeping saints with sounds of peace.
His words like melting music flow'd his face,
More radiant than the vernal morn, that smiles
-The earth to joy. The trump of Gabriel led

The

The coral song: unnumber'd harps of gold,
And voices sweet join'd the melodious sound.
Discord, that late had mov'd the elements
To war, and 'gan t' invade the spheres,
Was hush'd to sleep. Quick chang'd the scene,
From raging discord, universal storm,
To soothing sounds, and universal calm.
The sun, from blackest clouds, unveil'd his face,
And shone with double radiance on the earth.
The fixed stars had ceas'd to shed their beams,
And trembling, hid in sable darkness, stood;
But now enraptur'd with symphonious sounds,
They dart their genial rays, and fill their orbs
With pleasing light, and soul-reviving warmth.
But thou, O Earth, most felt the pleasing change.
-Fierce storms were mute.

Old ocean heard, and smooth'd his tempest face;
And spring-like beauty smil'd on all the the earth.
Poets have sung of Orpheus' potent lyre;
Eurydice, forc'd from the bands of death,
Of bending trees and moving rocks obsequious
To the sound. But now whole worlds obey.
Death could not hold his victims in the tomb.
"Thou monarch of the grave, resign the just!
Awake! ye saints, from your long night of sleep,.
Adorn'd with ever-blooming youth and robes
Of heav'nly innocence. Salute the morn
Of everlasting day." Thus sung the choir.
Death's dreary mansions heard with sad dismay.
In the mid regions of eternal night,

There sists the ghastly monarch on his throne.
Substantial darkness fills the broad domain :
Heart-chilling vapours rise from noxious lakes.
His servants, War, Intemp'rance, Plague, Revenge,
Consumption, wrinkled Age, groan discord round
His throne, and offer up their loathsome fumes
Of putrid corps, contagion, dead'ning blasts;
Sweet incense to their king; or run before
His grisly steed, when he rides o'er the earth,

And

And crops with chilling hand the bloom of life.
Here reigns the awful monarch of the dead;

When the full sounds spread thro' his darksome realms, His heart appall'd, he trembles on his throne :

His iron nerves relax : his sceptre falls.

The saints releas'd, their dreary mansions leave:
But O how chang'd!

No cumb❜rous load of grosser elements,
But pure aërial forms their souls possess ;
Forms, like the glorious body of their Lord,
Glowing with beauty and immortal bloom.

A DIALOGUE ON LOQUACITY.

Enter STEPHEN.

Stephen. LADIES and gentlemen, you have prob

ably heard of Foote, the comedian: if not, it is out of my power to tell you any thing about him, except this; he had but one leg, and his name was Samuel. Or, to speak more poetically, one leg he had, and Samuel was his name. This Foote wrote

a farce, called the Alderman; in which he attempted to ridicule a well-fed magistrate of the city of London. This last, hearing of the intended affront, called upon the player, and threatened him severely for his presumption. Sir, says Foote, it is my business to take off people. You shall see how well I can take myself off. So out of the room he went, as though to prepare. The Alderman sat waiting, and waiting, and waiting, andI have forgotten the rest of the story; but it ended very comically. So I must request of you, to muster up your wit, and each one end the story to his own liking, You are all wondering what this story leads to. Why, I'll tell you; Foote's farce was, called the Alderman, ours is called the Medley; his was written according to rule, ours is composed at loose ends. Yet loose as it is, you will find it made up, like

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all

all other pieces, of nouns, pronouns, verbs, participles, adverbs, conjunctions, articles, adjectives, prepositions, and interjections. Now, words are very harmless things; though I confess that much depends upon the manner of putting them together. The only thing to be settled is, that, if you should dislike the arrangement, you will please to alter it, till it suits you.

Enter TRUMAN.

Truman. What are you prating about, at such a rate? Steph. I am speaking of Sam Foote, and prepositions, and adverbs, and many other great characters.

Tru. Now don't you know, that your unruly tongue will be the ruin of you? Did you ever see a man who was foaming and frothing at the mouth as you are, that ever said any thing to the purpose? You ought always to think before you speak, and to consider well to whom you speak, and the place and time of speaking.

Steph. Pray who taught you all this worldly wisdom? Tru. My own experience, Sir; which is said to be the best school-master in the world, and ought to teach it to every man of common sense

Steph. Then, do not imagine that you possess any great secret. Keep your tongue between your teeth" is an old proverb, rusted and crusted over, till nobody can tell what it was first made of. Prudence, indeed, teaches the same. So prudence may teach a merchant to keep his vessels in port for fear of a storm at sea. But nothing venture, nothing have" is my proverb. Now, suppose all the world should adopt this prudence, what a multitude of mutes, we should have! There would be an end of news, law-suits, politics, and society. I tell you, Sir, that busy tongues are like main springs they set every thing in motion.

Tru. But where's a man's dignity, all this time, while his tongue is running at random, without a single thought to guide it?

Steph. His dignity! that indeed! Out upon parole, where it ought to be. A man's dignity! as though we came into the world to support dignity, and by an

affected

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