A poem on divine revelation being an exercise delivered At the Public Commencement at Nassau-Hall, September 28. 1774 |
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 | A poem on divine revelation |  |
The pow'r of torture and reproach was vain,
But what not torture or reproach could do,
Dark superstition did in part effect.
That superstition, which saint John beheld,
Rise in thick darkness from th' infernal lake.
Locust and scorpion in the smoke ascend,
False teacher, heretic, and Antichrist.
The noon day sun is dark'ned in the sky,
The moon forbears to give her wonted light.
Full many a century the darkness rul'd,
With heavier gloom than once on Egypt came,
Save that on some lone coast, or desert isle,
Where sep'rate far a chosen spirit dwelt,
A Goshen shone, with partial-streaming ray.
Night on the one side settles dark; on Rome,
It settles dark, and ev'ry land more west
Is wrapt in shades. Night on the east comes down
With gloom Tartarean, and in part it rose
From Tartary beneath the dusky pole.
The ruthless Turk, and Saracen in arms,
O'er-run the land the gospel once illum'd;
The holy land Judea once so nam'd,
And Syria west where many churches rose.
Those golden luminaries are remov'd,
Which once in Asia shone. Athens no more
For truth and learning fam'd. Corinth obscur'd,
Ionia mourns through all her sea-girt isles.
But what not torture or reproach could do,
Dark superstition did in part effect.
That superstition, which saint John beheld,
Rise in thick darkness from th' infernal lake.
Locust and scorpion in the smoke ascend,
False teacher, heretic, and Antichrist.
The noon day sun is dark'ned in the sky,
The moon forbears to give her wonted light.
Full many a century the darkness rul'd,
With heavier gloom than once on Egypt came,
Save that on some lone coast, or desert isle,
Where sep'rate far a chosen spirit dwelt,
A Goshen shone, with partial-streaming ray.
Night on the one side settles dark; on Rome,
It settles dark, and ev'ry land more west
Is wrapt in shades. Night on the east comes down
With gloom Tartarean, and in part it rose
From Tartary beneath the dusky pole.
The ruthless Turk, and Saracen in arms,
O'er-run the land the gospel once illum'd;
The holy land Judea once so nam'd,
And Syria west where many churches rose.
Those golden luminaries are remov'd,
Which once in Asia shone. Athens no more
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Ionia mourns through all her sea-girt isles.
| A poem on divine revelation | |