Is it a time to wrangle, when the props
And pillars of our planet feem to fail,
And nature with a dim and fickly eye
To wait the clofe of all? But grant her end
More diftant, and that prophecy demands
A longer refpite, unaccomplish'd yet;
Still they are frowning fignals, and bespeak
Displeasure in his breast who fmites the earth
Or heals it, makes it languifh or rejoice.
And 'tis but feemly, that, where all deferve
And ftand expos'd by common peccancy
To what no few have felt, there fhould be peace,
And brethren in calamity should love.

Alas for Sicily! rude fragments now
Lie fcatter'd where the fhapely column ftood.
Her palaces are duft. In all her streets
The voice of finging and the fprightly chord
Are filent. Revelry, and dance, and fhow
Suffer a fyncope and folemn paufe;

While God performs upon the trembling stage
Of his own works his dreadful part alone.
How does the earth receive him? With what figns

* Alluding to the fog that covered both Europe and A during the whole fummer of 1783.

Of gratulation and delight, her king?

Pours the not all her choiceft fruits abroad,
Her fweetest flow'rs, her aromatic gums,
Difclofing paradife where'er he treads?

She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb,
Conceiving thunders, through a thoufand deeps
And fiery caverns roars beneath his foot.

The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke,
For he has touch'd them. From th' extremeft point
Of elevation down into th' abyss

His wrath is bufy, and his frown is felt.

The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rife,
The rivers die into offenfive pools,

And, charg'd with putrid verdure, breathe a grofs
And mortal nuifance into all the air.

What folid was, by transformation strange,
Grows fluid; and the fix'd and rooted earth,
Tormented into billows, heaves and fwells,
Or with vortiginous and hideous whirl
Sucks down its prey insatiable. Immenfe
The tumult and the overthrow, the pangs
And agonies of human and of brute
Multitudes, fugitive on ev'ry fide,
And fugitive in vain. The fylvan scene
Migrates uplifted; and, with all its foil
Alighting in far diftant fields, finds out

A new poffeffor, and furvives the change.
Ocean has caught the frenzy, and, upwrought
To an enormous and o'erbearing height,
Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice
Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore
Refiftlefs. Never fuch a fudden flood,
Upridg'd fo high, and fent on fuch a charge,
Poffefs'd an inland fcene. Where now the throng
That prefs'd the beach, and, hafty to depart,
Look'd to the fea for fafety? They are gone,
Gone with the refluent wave into the deep-
A prince with half his people! Ancient tow❜rs,
And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes
Where beauty oft and letter'd worth consume
Life in the unproductive fhades of death,
Fall
prone : the pale inhabitants come forth,
And, happy in their unforeseen release
From all the rigours of reftraint, enjoy
The terrors of the day that fets them free.
Who then that has thee, would not hold thee fast,
Freedom! whom they that lofe thee fo regret,
That ev'n a judgment, making way for thee,
Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy fake.

Such evil fin hath wrought; and fuch a filame Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth,

And, in the furious inquest that it makes
On God's behalf, lays wafte his fairest works.
The very elements, though each be meant
The minifter of man, to ferve his wants,
Confpire against him. With his breath he draws
A plague into his blood; and cannot use
Life's neceffary means, but he must die.
Storms rife t'o'erwhelm him: or, if stormy winds
Rise not, the waters of the deep fhall rise,
And, needing none affiftance of the storm,
Shall roll themselves ashore, and reach him there.
The earth shall shake him out of all his holds,
Or make his house his grave: nor fo content,
Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood,
And drown him in her dry and dufty gulfs.
What then!-were they the wicked above all,
And we the righteous, whofe faft anchor'd isle
Mov'd not, while theirs was rock'd, like a light fkiff,
The fport of ev'ry wave? No: none are clear,
And none than we more guilty. But, where all
Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the fhafts
Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose his mark
May punish, if he pleafe, the lefs, to warn
The more malignant. If he fpar'd not them,
Tremble and be amaz'd at thine escape,
Far guiltier England, left he fpare not thee!

Happy the man who fees a God employ'd
Jn all the good and ill that checquer life!
Refolving all events, with their effects
And manifold refults, into the will
And arbitration wife of the Supreme.
Did not his eye rule all things, and intend
'The least of our concerns (fince from the least
The greatest oft originate ;) could chance
Find place in his dominion, or difpofe
One lawless particle to thwart his plan;
Then God might be furpris'd, and unforeseen
Contingence might alarm him, and disturb
The fmooth and equal course of his affairs.
This truth philofophy, though eagle-eyed
In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks;
And, having found his inftrument, forgets,
Or difregards, or, more prefumptuous ftill,
Denies the pow'r that wields it. God proclaims
His hot difpleasure against foolish-men,
That live an atheist life: involves the heav'n
In tempefts; quits his grafp upon the winds,
And gives them all their fury; bids a plague
Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin,

And putrify the breath of blooming health.
He calls for famine, and the meagre fiend
Blows mildew from between his fhrivel'd lips,