 | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison |  |
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A Divine Poem. Selected from the 18th, and 91st Psalms.
To God, my Muse, address your loftiest Song,
To God your Voice, your Lyre, your Lays belong;
Awake his Actions in each heavenly Line,
Great as his Goodness, as his Hand divine:
But first, O Lord, my trembling Breast inspire,
And fill my panting Soul with sacred Fire;
So shall my Lays to blooming Honours rise,
For what Heaven dictates, Time nor Age destroys.
To God your Voice, your Lyre, your Lays belong;
Awake his Actions in each heavenly Line,
Great as his Goodness, as his Hand divine:
But first, O Lord, my trembling Breast inspire,
And fill my panting Soul with sacred Fire;
So shall my Lays to blooming Honours rise,
For what Heaven dictates, Time nor Age destroys.
As the cœlestial Eagle stoops his Wings.
While the small Wren upon his Pinions springs,
Strait with a Bound he cuts his tow'ring Flight,
Thro' floating Air, and Groves of living Light;
The Wren with wonder views the Milky Way,
And the bright Mansions of eternal Day;
Wonders he does in Realms of Light unknown,
Buoy'd up with rapid Pinions, not his own.
While the small Wren upon his Pinions springs,
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Thro' floating Air, and Groves of living Light;
The Wren with wonder views the Milky Way,
And the bright Mansions of eternal Day;
Wonders he does in Realms of Light unknown,
Buoy'd up with rapid Pinions, not his own.
So they who trust in God's Omnipotence,
Find a safe Succour, and a sure Defence;
Not all the Fears that guilty Mortals know,
Can in their Souls create the smallest Woe;
Sweet are their Thoughts, as sweetest Slumbers are,
Calm as mild Evenings, as the Morning fair;
No guilty Conscience breaks their sacred Rest,
No foul Chimæras hover o'er their Breast,
No dismal Visions dare invade their Head,
Or pallid Phantoms stalk around their Bed:
With springing Light no carking Cares are born,
To cloud the pearly Beauty of the Morn;
Not loudest Storms that roar from Pole to Pole,
Can raise a Tempest in their settled Soul:
Should pois'nous Pestilence infest the Sky,
Angels would turn each tainted Arrow by,
Spirits unseen would guard their sacred Rest,
Play o'er their Head, and hover o'er their Breast.
Should hissing Serpents on vast Volumes ride,
And singe whole Forests with their spiral Pride;
Pleas'd with Delight, they'd stroke the living Fire,
The flaming Crest, and speckled Pride admire.
Should roaring Lions' Thunder shake the Ground,
To them 'twould seem the Cittern's Silver Sound:
They hear the brazen Throat of War to roar,
They hear—but like soft Music on the Shore.
Find a safe Succour, and a sure Defence;
Not all the Fears that guilty Mortals know,
Can in their Souls create the smallest Woe;
Sweet are their Thoughts, as sweetest Slumbers are,
Calm as mild Evenings, as the Morning fair;
No guilty Conscience breaks their sacred Rest,
No foul Chimæras hover o'er their Breast,
No dismal Visions dare invade their Head,
Or pallid Phantoms stalk around their Bed:
With springing Light no carking Cares are born,
To cloud the pearly Beauty of the Morn;
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Can raise a Tempest in their settled Soul:
Should pois'nous Pestilence infest the Sky,
Angels would turn each tainted Arrow by,
Spirits unseen would guard their sacred Rest,
Play o'er their Head, and hover o'er their Breast.
Should hissing Serpents on vast Volumes ride,
And singe whole Forests with their spiral Pride;
Pleas'd with Delight, they'd stroke the living Fire,
The flaming Crest, and speckled Pride admire.
Should roaring Lions' Thunder shake the Ground,
To them 'twould seem the Cittern's Silver Sound:
They hear the brazen Throat of War to roar,
They hear—but like soft Music on the Shore.
Tho' Floods of Foes my Soul serene surround,
My God shall all their impious Rage confound;
In God alone I find a sure Defence;
With God who dare dispute Omnipotence?
Witness the Day—Behold the Scene appears,
A Grove of Lances, and a Wood of Spears,
A gloomy Tempest threatens from afar
Quick Fate, and flourishes an iron War:
From azure Armour livid Lightnings play,
And gild the Tempest with a momentary Day—
O Lord—my God, the Floods my Soul surround,
And num'rous Deaths appear in num'rous Forms around.
O calm this Tempest with a single Nod,
Thou canst, O Lord—I know thou canst, O God—
Now say, my Muse, what Power disarm'd the Blow,
And rais'd me from the deepest Depths of Woe?
'Twas God—for God alone such Miracles can do.
Can you then cease his Goodness to adore!
To Love, what can be less! and yet he asks no more.
My God shall all their impious Rage confound;
In God alone I find a sure Defence;
With God who dare dispute Omnipotence?
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A Grove of Lances, and a Wood of Spears,
A gloomy Tempest threatens from afar
Quick Fate, and flourishes an iron War:
From azure Armour livid Lightnings play,
And gild the Tempest with a momentary Day—
O Lord—my God, the Floods my Soul surround,
And num'rous Deaths appear in num'rous Forms around.
O calm this Tempest with a single Nod,
Thou canst, O Lord—I know thou canst, O God—
Now say, my Muse, what Power disarm'd the Blow,
And rais'd me from the deepest Depths of Woe?
'Twas God—for God alone such Miracles can do.
Can you then cease his Goodness to adore!
To Love, what can be less! and yet he asks no more.
But lo! behold dark Horror sits around,
A sudden Earthquake rocks th' astonish'd Ground.
Behold that late insulting Troop appear,
All pale and shivering with a panic Fear,
Confusion leads the Van, and Death brings up the Rear.
Half dead, for Shelter some to Rocks repair,
In vain—the Rocks confess an equal Fear.
Lo! Rivers plunge into their deepest Beds,
And tott'ring Mountains bow their aged Heads,
From their Foundations rugged Rocks are torn,
And in black Whirlwinds thro' the Clouds are borne,
From hollow Caverns, hoarse deep Murmurs roar,
And drive the trembling Billows to the Shoar;
From Pole to Pole tremendous Storms resound,
Loud Thunders split the Heavens, loud Earthquakes rock the Ground.
But now a Scene insufferably bright,
O'erwhelms this Tempest with a Stream of Light—
Unfolding Realms of Day the Terror raise,
All Nature trembles, and the Heavens blaze—
But lo! the God—his dreadful Form behold,
In flaming Glory, and in fluid Gold!
Congealing Darkness, with a Night of Clouds,
His awful Majesty in Tempests shrouds;
A Storm of pointed Thunder arms the God,
A Seraph wing'd with Whirlwinds bears the dreadful Load;
Forth from his Nostrils Sheets of Flame expire,
He breathes a Tempest in a Flood of Fire;
With dread Divinity the Heavens bow,
The rolling Thunders fly, and Fate is in the Blow.
A sudden Earthquake rocks th' astonish'd Ground.
200
All pale and shivering with a panic Fear,
Confusion leads the Van, and Death brings up the Rear.
Half dead, for Shelter some to Rocks repair,
In vain—the Rocks confess an equal Fear.
Lo! Rivers plunge into their deepest Beds,
And tott'ring Mountains bow their aged Heads,
From their Foundations rugged Rocks are torn,
And in black Whirlwinds thro' the Clouds are borne,
From hollow Caverns, hoarse deep Murmurs roar,
And drive the trembling Billows to the Shoar;
From Pole to Pole tremendous Storms resound,
Loud Thunders split the Heavens, loud Earthquakes rock the Ground.
But now a Scene insufferably bright,
O'erwhelms this Tempest with a Stream of Light—
Unfolding Realms of Day the Terror raise,
All Nature trembles, and the Heavens blaze—
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In flaming Glory, and in fluid Gold!
Congealing Darkness, with a Night of Clouds,
His awful Majesty in Tempests shrouds;
A Storm of pointed Thunder arms the God,
A Seraph wing'd with Whirlwinds bears the dreadful Load;
Forth from his Nostrils Sheets of Flame expire,
He breathes a Tempest in a Flood of Fire;
With dread Divinity the Heavens bow,
The rolling Thunders fly, and Fate is in the Blow.
| The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | |