 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
233
TO S---h F---k.
In ancient Times, when Israel was renown'd,
And Kings and Bards, with due Respect, were crown'd,
By Heaven's Direction, Solomon, the Wise,
A Temple rear'd, the Wonder of Mens Eyes!
Long fair it stood, and worthy of the God,
Whose solemn Presence sanctify'd th' Abode.
But Time and War, those Instruments of Fate,
At length, in Ruins, laid the Jewish State.
Expos'd to all the Insults of the Foe,
Sad Israel now laments inveterate Woe.
But mark the Turn of providential Care!
Bright Beams of Joy dispel the dark Despair.
Cyrus, the Great, the Generous, and the Good,
From Tyranny reliev'd the groaning Crowd,
And built a second Temple in the Place,
Where Israel's Glory shone, and suffer'd sore Disgrace.
Joyous the Jews beheld this noble Pile,
Which Pagan Powers presum'd not to defile.
But hoary Sages, who the first had seen,
Wept, as they gaz'd—Reflection cut them keen.
No happy Chance cou'd crush the Thought accurst,
“The second Temple was not like the first.
And Kings and Bards, with due Respect, were crown'd,
By Heaven's Direction, Solomon, the Wise,
A Temple rear'd, the Wonder of Mens Eyes!
Long fair it stood, and worthy of the God,
Whose solemn Presence sanctify'd th' Abode.
But Time and War, those Instruments of Fate,
At length, in Ruins, laid the Jewish State.
234
Sad Israel now laments inveterate Woe.
But mark the Turn of providential Care!
Bright Beams of Joy dispel the dark Despair.
Cyrus, the Great, the Generous, and the Good,
From Tyranny reliev'd the groaning Crowd,
And built a second Temple in the Place,
Where Israel's Glory shone, and suffer'd sore Disgrace.
Joyous the Jews beheld this noble Pile,
Which Pagan Powers presum'd not to defile.
But hoary Sages, who the first had seen,
Wept, as they gaz'd—Reflection cut them keen.
No happy Chance cou'd crush the Thought accurst,
“The second Temple was not like the first.
O S---, boast not thy recover'd Health,
Thy latter Spring, and poor Remains of Wealth—
Arbuthnot, Mead, and Sandilands, in vain,
Have try'd to make Thee what thou wert again.
We, who beheld Thee, in thy Pride of Charms,
Have lost Desire to revel in thy Arms.
Howe'er thou'rt flatter'd, patch'd, and drest, and nurs'd,
“Thy Second Temple is not like thy First.
Thy latter Spring, and poor Remains of Wealth—
235
Have try'd to make Thee what thou wert again.
We, who beheld Thee, in thy Pride of Charms,
Have lost Desire to revel in thy Arms.
Howe'er thou'rt flatter'd, patch'd, and drest, and nurs'd,
“Thy Second Temple is not like thy First.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |