Infult the banish'd Wanderer: On she goes Now turn your Eyes to yon fweet-fmelling Bow'r, Where flush'd with all the Insolence of Wealth Sits pamper'd Vice! for him the Arabian Gale Breathes forth delicious Odours; Gallia's Hills For him pour Nectar from the purple Vine; Nor think for these he pays the Tribute due To Heav'n: Of Heaven he never names the Name, Save when with Imprecations dark and dire He points his Jest obscene. Yet buxom Health Sits on his rosy Cheek; yet Honour gilds His high Exploits; and downy-pinion'd Sleep Sheds a foft Opiate o'er his peaceful Couch. See'st thou this, righteous Father! See'st thou this, And wilt thou ne'er repay? Shall Good and Ill Be carried undiftinguish'd to the Land Where all Things are forgot;-Ah! no; the Day Will come, when Virtue from the Cloud shall burst That long obscur'd her Beams; when Sin shall fly Back to her native Hell; there sink eclips'd In penal Darkness; where no Star shall rise, Nor ever Sunshine pierce th' impervious Gloom. The GREAT TRIBUNAL. GLYNN. a N that great Day the folemn Trump shall ON found, (That Trump which once in Heaven, on Man's Revolt Convok'd th' astonisn'd Seraphs ;) at whose Voice From ev'ry Quarter at the Judgment Seat Parthians; and they who dwell on Tyber's Banks, The END of the WORLD.. GLYNN. OW shall the Muse, her Numbers all too weak, Shall wage with Seas and Earth intestine War, Some Some think) the Comet, as thro' Fields of Air Lawless he wanders, shall rush headlong on, Thwarting th' Ecliptic where th' unconscious Earth Rolls in her wonted Course; whether the Sun With Force centripetal into his Orb Attract her long reluctant; or the Caves, - Those dread Volcanos where ungend'ring lye - Sulphureous Minerals, from their dark Abyss Pour Streams of liquid Fire; while from above, As erst on Sodom, Heav'n's averging Hand Rains fierce Cumbustion. Works Where are now the Of Art, the Toil of Ages? Where are now Thebes Open'd her hundred Portals ?-Tell me where * Stood Sea-girt Albion ? - Where Imperial Rome - Propt by seven Hills, fat like a scepter'd Queen, And aw'd the tributary World to Peace? Shew me the Rampart, which o'er many a Hill Thro' many a Valley stretch'd its wide Extent, Rais'd by that mighty Monarch, to repel The roving Tartar, when with Insult rude 'Gainst Pekin's Towers he bent th' unerring Bow. But what is mimic Art? ev'n Nature's Works, - Seas, Meadows, Pastures, the meand'ring Streams, And everlasting Hills shall be no more. No more shall Teneriff cloud-piercing Height No more shall Planets round their central Sun Call'd from their wond'rous Height, to read their Names And magnitude, some winged Minister Such is that awful, that tremendous Day, Whose Coming who shall tell? for as a Thief Unheard, unseen, it steals with filent Pace Thro' Night's dark Gloom.-Perhaps as here I fit, And rudely carol these incondite Lays, Soon shall the Hand be check'd, and dumb the Mouth That lisps the fault'ring Strain.-O! may it ne'er Intrude unwelcome on an ill-fpent Hour; But 1 But find me wrapt in Meditations high, "Power fupreme ! "O everlasting King! to Thee I kneel, "Think on the best, the noblest of thy Works; "Him "Who dy'd to fave us from thy righteous Wrath; "And 'midst the Wreck of Worlds remember "Man." LES |