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Loaden with fairest Fruit, that hung to th' Eye
Tempting, ftirr'd in me fudden Appetite
To pluck and eat; whereat I wak'd, and found
Be fore mine Eves all real, as the Dream
Had lively fhadow'd: Here had new begun
My Wand'ring, had not he who was my Guide
Up hither, from among the Trees appear'd,
Prefence divine. Rejoicing, but with Awe,
In Adoration at his Feet I fell

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Submifs: He rear'd me, and Whom thou fought'it
I am,

Said mildly, Author of all this thou feeft
Above, or round about thee, or beneath.

Adam and Eve's Morning HYMN. MILTON.

HESE are thy glorious Works, Parent of Good!
Almighty: bine this univerfal Frame,

Thus wond'rous fair: Thyfelf how wond'rous then?
Unspeakable, who fit'ft above these Heavens,
To us invifible, or dimly feen

In these thy loweft Works; yet thefe declare
Thy Goodness beyond Thought, and Pow'r divine,
Speak ye who beft can tell, Ye Sons of Light,
Angels; for ye behold him, and with Songs
And choral Symphonies, Day without Night,
Circle his Throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven:
On Earth join all ye Creatures to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without End.
Fairest of Stars, laft in the Train of Night,
If better thou belong not to the Dawn,

Sure Pledge of Day, that crown'ft the fmiling Morn
With thy bright Circlet, praise him in thy Sphere,

While Day arises, that sweet Hour of Prime.
'Thou Sun, of this great World both Eye and Soul,
Acknowledge him thy Greater, found his Praise
In thy Eternal Course, both when thou climb’st,
And when high Noon haft gain'd, and when thou
fall'ft.

Moon, that now meet'ft the orient Sun, now fly'st,
With the fix'd Stars, fix'd in their Orb that flies,
And ye five other wand'ring Fires that move
In myftic Dance not without Song, refound
His Praife, who out of Darkness call'd up Light.
Air, and ye Elements, the eldest Birth
Of Nature's Womb, that in Quaternion run
Perpetual Circle, multiform; and mix

And nourish all Things; let your ceaseless Change
Vary to our great Maker still new Praise.

Ye Mifts and Exhalations that now rife

From Hill or steaming Lake, dufky or grey,
Till the Sun paint your fleecy Skirts with Gold,
In Honour to the World's great Author rife;
Whether to deck with Clouds th' uncolour'd Sky,
Or wet the thirsty Earth with falling Showers,
Rifing or falling still advance his Praise.

His Praife, ye Winds, that from four Quarters blow,
Breathe foft or loud; and wave your Tops, ye Pines,
With every Plant, in Sign of Worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow,
Melodious Murmurs, warbling tune his Praise.
Join Voices all ye living Souls; ye Birds,
That finging up to Heaven Gate ascend,
Bear on your Wings, and in your Notes his Praise.
Ye that in Waters glide, and ye that walk
The Earth, and ftately tread, or lowly creep;

Wit

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Witness if I be filent, Morn or Even,

To Hill or Valley, Fountain, or fresh Shade Made vocal by my Song, and taught his Praife. b Hail univerfal Lord! be bounteous ftill

To give us only Good; and if the Night
Have gather'd ought of Evil, or conceal'd,
Difperfe it, as now Light difpels the Dark.

THOMSON'S HYMN on the CREATION.

TH

HESE, as they change, Almighty Father,
thefe,

Are but the varied GOD. The rolling Year
Is full of Thee, Forth in the pleafing Spring
Thy Beauty Walks, thy Tenderness and Love.
Wide flush the Fields; the foftening Air.is Bains ;)
Echo the Mountains round; the Foreft fmiles;
And every Senfe, and every Heart is Joy.
Then comes thy Glory in the Summer Months,
With Light and Heat refulgent. Then thy Sun-
Shoots full Perfection thro' the fivelling Year:
And oft thy Voice in dreadful Thunder speaks;
And oft at Dawn, deep Noon, or falling Eve,"
By Brooks and Groves, in hollow whifpering
Gales.

Thy Bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd,

And spreads a common Feast for all that live.
In Winter awful Thou! with Clouds and Storms
Around Thee thrown, Tempeft o'er Tempest
roll'd,

Majeftic Darkness! on the Whirlwind's Wing;
Riding fublime, Thou bid'ft the World adoré,
And humbleft Nature with thy Northern Blast.

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Myfterious Round! what Skill, what Force divine, Deep-felt, in these appear! a fimple Train, Yet to delightful mix'd; with fuch kind Art, Such Beauty and Beneficence combin'd; Shade, unperceiv'd, fo foftening into Shade; And all fo forming an harmonious Whole ; That, as they fill fucceed, they ravish still. But wand'ring oft, with Brute unconscious Gaze, Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty Hand, That, ever busy, wheels the filent Spheres ; Works in the fecret Deep; shoots, steaming, thence The fair Profufion that o'erfpreads the Spring: Flings from the Sun direct the flaming Day; Feeds ev'ry Creature; hurls the Tempeft forth, And, as on Earth this graceful Change revolves, With transport touches all the Springs of Life.

Nature, attend! join every living Soul,
Beneath the fpacious Temple of the Sky,
In Adoration join; and, ardent, raise
One general Song! To Him, ye vocal Gales,
Breathe foft, whofe Spirit in your Freshness breathes:
Oh talk of Him in folitary Glooms!

Where, o'er the Rock, the fcarcely waving Pine
Fills the brown Shade with a religious Awe.
And ye, whofe bolder Note is heard afar,
Who shake th' aftonish'd World, lift high to Heaven
Th' impetuous Song, and fay from whom you rage.
His Praife, ye Brooks, attune, ye trembling Rills;
And let me catch it as I mufe along,
Ye headlong Torrents, rapid, and profound;
Ye fofter Floods, that lead the humid Maze
Along the Vale; and thou, majestic Main,

A fe

A fecret World of Wonders in thyself,
Sound his ftupendous Praise; whofe greater Voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your Roarings fall.
Soft-roll your Incense, Herbs, and Fruits, and
Flowers,

In mingled Clouds to Him; whofe Sun exalts,
Whofe Breath perfumes you, and whofe Pencil paints.
Ye Forefts bend, ye Harvefts wave, to Him;
Breathe your ftill Song into the Reaper's Heart,
As Home he goes beneath the joyous Moon.
Ye that keep Watch in Heaven, as Earth ailecp
Unconscious lies, effufe your mildest Beams.
Ye Constellations, while your Angels ftrike,
Amid the fpangled Sky, the filver Lyre.
Great Source of Day! beft Image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide

From World to World, the vital Ocean round,
On Nature write with ev'ry Beam his Praise.
The Thunder rolls: Be hufh'd the proftrate World;
While Cloud to Cloud returns the folemn Hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye Hills: Ye mofly Rocks,
Retain the Sound: The broad refponfive Low,
Ye Vallies, raife; for the Great Shepherd reigns;
And his unfuffering Kingdom yet will come.
Ye Woodlands all, awake! A boundless Song
Burft from the Groves! and when the restless Day,
Expiring, lays the warbling World asleep,
Sweeteft of Birds! fweet Philomela, charm

The lift'ning Shades, and teach the Night his Praife.
Ye Chief, for whom the whole Creation smiles;
At once the Head, the Heart, and Tongue of all,
Crown the great Hymn! in swarming Cities vast,
Affembled Men, to the deep Organ join

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