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She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb, Conceiving thunders, through a thousand deeps And fiery caverns, roars beneath his foot. The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke, For be bas touched them. From the extremest point Of elevation down into the abyss His wrath is busy, and his frown is felt, The rocks fall headlong, and the vallies rise, The rivers die into offensive pools, And, charged with putrid verdure, breathe a gross And mortal nuisance into all the air. What solid was, by transformation strange, Grows fluid ; and the fix'd and rooted earih, Tormented into billows, heaves and swells, Or with vortiginous and hideous whirl, Sucks down its prey insatiable. Immense The tumult and the overthrow, the papgs And agonies of human and of brute, Multitudes, fugitive on every side, And fugitive in vain. The sylyan scene Migrates uplifted; and, with all its soil Alighting in far distant fields, finds out A new possessor, and survives the change.. Ocean has caught the frenzy, and, upwrought To an enormous and overbearing height, Not by a nighty wind, but by that voice, Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, Upridged so high, and sent on such a charge, Possessedan inlaud scene. Where now the throng,
That pressed the beach, and, hasty to depart,
Looked to the sea for safety? They are gone,
Gone with the refluent wave into the deep-
A prince with half his people! Ancierit towers,
And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes,
Where beauty oft and lettered worth consume .
Life in the unproductive shades of death,
Fall prope: the pale inhabitants come forth,
And, happy in their unforeseen release
From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy
The terrors of the day, that sets them free.
Who then that has thee, would not hold thee fast,
Freedom! whom they that lose thee so regret,
That even a judgnient, making way for thee, .
Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake.
Such evil sin hath wrought; and such a flame
Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth,
And in the furious inquest, that it makes .
On God's behalf, lays waste his fairest works...
The very elements, tbough each be meant
The minister of nian, to serve his wants,
Conspire against him. With his breath he draws.
A plague into his blood; and cannot use:
Life's necessary means, but he must die. [winds
Storms rise to overwhelm him : of, if stormy
Rise not, the waters of the deep shall rise, . .
And, needing none assistance of the storm,
Sball roll theinselves ashore, and reach him there..
The eartb skall sbake him out of all his bokks,
Or make his house his grave: nor so content,
Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood,
And drown him in her dry and dusty gulphs.
What then !-were they the wicked above all,
And we the righteous, whose fast anchored isle
Moved not, while their's was rocked, like a light skiff,
The sport of every wave? No: none are clear,
And none than we more guilty. But, where all
Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts
Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose his mark:
May punish, if he please, the less, to warn
The more malignant. If he spared not them,
Tremble and be amazed at thine escape,
Far guiltier England, lest he spare not thee!
Happy the man, who sees a God employed
In all the good and ill, that chequer life!
Resolving all events, with their effects . .
And manifold results, into the will
And arbitration wise of the Supreme.
Did not his eye rule all things, and intend
The least of our concerns (since from the least
The greatest oft originate); could chance
Find place in his dominion, or dispose
One lawless particle to thwart his plan;
Then God might be surprised, and unforeseen
Contingence might alarm him, and disturb.
The smooth and equal course of his affairs.
This truth philosophy, though eagle eyed
In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks;
And, having found his instrument, forgets,
Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still,
Denies the power, that wields it. God proclaims His hot displeasure against foolish men, That live an atheist life: involves the heaven In tempests: quits his grasp upon the winds, And gives them all their fury: bids a plague Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin, in And putrify the breath of blooming health. He calls for famine, and the meagre fiend , . Blows mildew from between his shrivelled lips, ** And taints the golden ear. He springs his mines,' , And desolates a nation at a blast. Forth steps the spruce philosopher, and tells Of homogeneal and discordant springs And principles; of causes, how they work By necessary laws their sure effects; Of action and re-action. He has found The source of the disease, that nature feels, . And bids the world take heart and banish fear. Thou fool! will thy discovery of the cause : Suspend the effect, or heal it? Has not God Still wrought by means since first he made the world?'. And did he not of old employ his means ! To drown it? What is his creation less Than a capacious reservoir of means !" Formed for his use, and ready at his will?'... Go, dress thine eyes. with eye-salve; ask of him, Or ask of whomsoever he has taught; ein " . And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all. ;.
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still My country! and, while yet a nook is left,".
.: C6 :
Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrained to lovethee. Though thy clime
Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed
With dripping rains, or withered by a frost,
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies,
And fields without a flower, for warmer France
With all ber vines; nor for Ausonia's groves
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers.
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime,
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire.
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task:
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart
As any tbunderer there. And I can feel
Thy follies too; and with a just disdain
Frown at effeminates, whose very looks,
Reflect dishonour on the land I love.
How, in the name of soldiership and sense,
Should England prosper, when such things assmooth
And tender as a girl, all essenced over ?
With odours, and as profligate as sweet;
Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath,. ..
And love when they should fight; when such as
Piesume to lay their hand upon the ark
Of her magnificent and awful cause ?... .
Time was when it was praise and boast enough
In every clime, and travel where we might, !
That we were born her children. Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
Tuat Chatham's language was his mother tongue,