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When Israel's host, with all their stores,

Past through the ruby-tinctur'd crystal shores, The wilderness of waters and of land :

Then persecution rag'd in Heaven's own cause,
Strict justice for the breach of nature's laws,
The legislator held the scythe of fate,

Where'er his legions chanc'd to stray,
Death and destruction mark'd their bloody
way ;

[hate. Immoderate was their rage, for mortal was their

But when the King of Righteousness arose,

And on the illumin'd east serenely smild, He shone with meekest mercy on his foes, Bright as the sun, but as the moon-beams mild ; From anger, fell revenge, and discord free,

He bade war's hellish clangor cease,

In pastoral simplicity and peace, And show'd to man that face, which Moses could

not see.

Well hast thou, Webster, pictur'd Christian love,

And copied our Master's fair design ; But livid envy would the light remove,

Or crowd thy portrait in a nook malignThe muse shall hold it up to popular viewWhere the more candid and judicious few

Shall think the bright original they see, The likeness nobly lost in the identity.

Oh, hadst thou liv'd in better days than these,

Ere to excel by all was deem'd a shame! Alas! thou hast no modern arts to please,

And to deserve is all thy empty claim.

Else thou’dst been plac'd, by learning, and by wit, There, where thy dignified inferiors sit

Oh, they are in their generations wise ; Each path of interest they have sagely trod

To live-to thrive-to rise-and still to rise Better to bow to men, than kneel to God.

Behold, where poor unmansion'd Merit stands,

All cold and cramp'd with penury and pain; Speechless, through want, she rears the’ imploring

hands,
And begs a little bread, but begs in vain;
While Bribery and Dulness, passing by,
Bid her, in sounds barbarian, starve and die :-

“ Away (they cry), we never saw thy name

Or in preferment's list, or that of fame ; Away-not here the fate thou earn'st bewail, Who can’st not buy a vote, nor hast a soul for sale."

Ob, indignation! wherefore wert thou given,

If drowsy patience deaden all thy rage ?-
Yet we must bear-such is the will of Heaven:

And, Webster, so prescribes thy candid page. Then let us hear thee preach, seraphic love,

Guide our disgusted thoughts to things above; So our free souls, fed with divine repast,

(Unmindful of low mortals' mean employ) Shall taste the present, recollect the past,

And strongly hope for every future joy.

A MORNING-PIECE;

OR, A HYMN FOR THE HAY-MAKERS.

Quinetiam Gallum noctem explaudentibus alis
Aurorum clara consuetum voce vocare."

LUCRET.

Brisk Chanticleer his matins had begun,

And broke the silence of the night, And thrice he call'd aloud the tardy sun,

And thrice he hail'd the dawn's ambiguous light; Back to their graves the fear-begotten phantoms run. Strong labour got up-with his pipe in his mouth,

He stoutly strode over the dale ; He lent new perfumes to the breath of the south;

On his back hung his wallet and flail,
Behind him came health from her cottage of thatch,
Where never physician had lifted the latch.
First of the village Colin was awake,
And thus he sung, reclining on his rake :
“ Now the rural graces

three
Dance beneath yon maple-tree;
First the vestal virtue, known
By her adamantine zone ;
Next to her, in rosy pride,
Sweet society the bride;
Last honesty, full seemly dress'd
In her cleanly homespun vest.

The abbey-bells in wakening rounds

The warning peal has given ;
And pious gratitude resounds

Her morning hymn to Heaven.
All nature wakes, the birds unlock their throats,
And mock the shepherd's rustic notes :

All alive o'er the lawn,
Full glad of the dawn,

The little lambkins play,
Sylvia and Sol arise--and all is day-

Come, my mates, let us work,

And all hands to the fork, While the sun shines our hay.cocks to make;

So fine is the day,

And so fragrant the hay,
That the meadow's as blithe as the wake :

Our voices let's raise

In Phæbus's praise,
Inspir'd by so glorious a theme,

Our musical words

Shall be join'd by the birds,
And we'll dance to the tune of the stream.

A NOON-PIECE.

OR, THE MOWERS AT DINNER.

“Jam pastor umbras cum grege languido,
Rivumque fessus quærit, et horridi

Dumeta Silvani ; caretque
Ripa vagis taciturna ventis."

HOR.

The sun is now radiant to behold,
And vehement he sheds his liquid rays of gold;
No cloud appears through all the wide expanse ;

And short, but yet distinct and clear;

To the wanton whistling air ;
The mimic shadows dance.

Fat mirth and gallantry the gay,
And romping ecstacy ’gin play.
Now myriads of young Cupids rise,
And open all their joy-bright eyes,
Filling with infant prate the grove,
And lisp in sweetly-faltering love.
In the middle of the ring,
Mad with May, and wild of wing,
Fire-ey'd wantonness shall sing.
By the rivulet on the rushes,
Beneath a canopy of bushes,
Where the ever faithful Tray
Guards the dumplins and the whey,
Colin Clout and Yorkshire Will,
From the leathern bottle swill.

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