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And writhed his neck: the landlord's little pride,
Oh strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and died.
Horror of horrors ! what! his only son!
How look'd our hermit when the act was done?
Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part,
And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart.

Consused, and struck with silence at the deed,
He flies, but, trembling, fails to fly with speed.
His steps the youth pursues; the country lay
Perplex'd with roads, a servant show'd the way:
A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er
Was nice to find; the servant trod before ;
Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied,
And deep the waves beneath the bending glide.
The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin,
Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in;
Plunging he falls, and rising lists his head,
Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.

Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, “ Detested wretch!" But scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man: His youtlıful face grew more serenely sweet, His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair, Celestial odours breathe through purpled air; And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. The form ethereal burst upon his sight, And moves in all the majesty of light.

Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew, Sudden he gazed, and wist not what to do; Surprise in secret chains his words suspends, And in a calm his settling temper ends. But silence here the beauteous angel broke (The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke).

“Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In sweet memorial rise before the throne:

These charms, success in our bright region find,
And force an angel down to calm thy mind;
For this commission'd, I forsook the sky,
Nay, cease to kneel—thy fellow-servant I.

" Then know the truth of government divine, And let these scruples be no longer thine.

“The Maker justly claims that world he made, In this the right of Providence is laid; Its sacred majesty through all depends On using second means to work his ends : 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, The power exertş his attributes on high; Your actions uses, nor controls your will, And bids the doubting sons of men be still. [prise,

“What strange events can strike with more surThan those which lately struck thy wondering eyes ? Yet, taught by these, confess th' Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!

“ The great, vain man, who fared on costly food, Whose life was too luxurious to be good, Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.

“ The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er moved in duty to the wandering poor, With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That Heaven can bless if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, . And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon his head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And loose from dross the silver runs below.

Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he lived in pain, And measured back his steps to earth again.

To what excessess had his dotage run?
But God, to save the father, took the son.
To all but thee in fits he seem'd to go
(And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow),
The poor, fond parent, humbled in the dust,
Now owns in tears the punishment was just.

“But now had all his fortune felt a wrack,
Had that false servant sped in safety back,
This night his treasured heaps he meant to steal,
And what a fund of charity would fail !
Thus Heaven instructs thy mind : this trial o'er,
Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more.”

On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew,
The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew.
Thus look'd Elisha when, to mount on high,
His master took the chariot of the sky;
The fiery pomp ascending left to view;
The prophet gazed, and wish'd to follow too.

The bending hermit here a prayer begun,
Lord! as in heaven, on earth thy will be done :"
Then, gladly turning, sought his ancient place,
And pass'd a life of piety and peace.

PIETY, OR THE VISION.

'Twas when the night in silent sable fled,
When cheerful morning sprung with rising red,
When dreams and vapours leave to crowd the brain,
And best the vision draws its heavenly scene;
'Twas then, as slumbering on my couch I lay,
A sudden splendour seem'd to kindle day;
A breeze came breathing in a sweet perfume,
Blown from eternal gardens, fill'd the room;
And in a void of blue that clouds invest,
Appear'd a daughter of the realms of rest:
Her head a ring of golden glory wore,
Her honour'd hand the sacred volume bore,

Her raiment, glittering, seem'd a silver white,
And all her sweet companions sons of light.

Straight as I gazed, my fear and wonder grew,
Fear barr'd my voice, and wonder fix'd my view;
When lo! a cherub of the shining crowd,
That sail'd as guardian in her azure cloud,
Fann'd the soft air, and downward seem'd to glide,
And to my lips a living coal applied.
Then while the warmth o'er all my pulses ran,
Diffusing comfort, thus the maid began :

“Where glorious mansions are prepared above, The seats of music and the seats of love, Thence I descend, and Piety my name, To warm thy bosom with celestial flame; To teach thee praises mix'd with humble prayers, And tune thy soul to sing seraphic airs. Be thou my bard.” A vial here she caught (An angel's hand the crystal vial brought); And, as with awful sound the word was said, She pour'd a sacred unction on my head; Then thus proceeded : “Be thy muse thy zeal, Dare to be good, and all my joys reveal. While other pencils flattering forms create, And paint the gaudy plumes that deck the great; While other pens exalt the vain delight, Whose wasteful revel wakes the depth of night; Or others softly sing in idle lines How Damon courts, or Amaryllis shines; More wisely thou select a theme divine, Fame is their recompense, 'tis heaven is thine. Despise the raptures of discorded fire, Where wine, or passion, or applause inspire Low, restless life, and ravings born of earth, Whose meaner subjects speak their humble birth, Like working seas, that, when loud winters blow, Not made for rising, only rage below. Mine is a warm and yet a lambent heat, More lasting still as more intensely great;

Produced where pray’r, and praise, and pleasure

breathe,
And ever mounting whence it shot beneath.
Unpaint the love, that, hovering over beds,
From glittering pinions guilty pleasure sheds ;
Restore the colour to the golden mines
With which behind the feather'd idol shines ;
To flowering greens give back their native care,
The rose and lily, never his to wear;
To sweet Arabia send the balmy breath;
Strip the fair flesh, and call the phantom death:
His bow he sabled o'er, his shafts the same,
- And fork and point them with eternal flame.

“But urge thy powers, thine utmost voice advance,
Make the loud strings against thy fingers dance:
'Tis love that angels praise and men adore,
'Tis love divine that asks it all and more.
Fling back the gates of ever-blazing day,
Pour floods of liquid light to gild the way ;
And all in glory wrapp'd, through paths untrod,
Pursue the great unseen descent of God.
Hail the meek virgin, bid the child appear,
The child is God, and call him Jesus here.
He comes, but where to rest? A manger's nigh,
Make the great Being in a manger lie ;
Fill the wide sky with angels on the wing,
Make thousands gaze, and make ten thousand sing;
Let men afflict him, men he came to save,
And still afflict him till he reach the grave;
Make him, resign’d, his loads of sorrow meet,
And me, like Mary, weep beneath his feet;
I'll bathe my tresses there, my prayers rehearse,
And glide in flames of love along my verse.

“Ah! while I speak, I feel my bosom swell, My raptures smother what I long to tell. 'Tis God! a present God! through cleaving air I see the throne, and see the Jesus there Placed on the right. He shows the wounds he bore (My fervours oft have won him thus before):

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