Philomela Or, Poems By Mrs. Elizabeth Singer, [Now Rowe,] ... The Second Edition |
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From MALACHI, Ch. III. V. 14. |
 | Philomela |  |
From MALACHI, Ch. III. V. 14.
In vain ye murmur, we have serv'd the Lord,As vainly listned to his flatt'ring Word,
He has forgot, or speaks not as he meant;
Else why are we thus idly Penitent?
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That dare my Judgments impiously oppose,
And own, nay, almost boast themselves my Foes:
Whose Crimes would (were I not a God) command
The Scarlet Bolts from my unwilling Hand;
Then They who fear'd my Great and Aweful Name,
The only Few who dar'd oppose the Stream,
Unmov'd against the vulgar Torrent stood,
In spite of Numbers, resolutely good,
Not taxing, with indecent Insolence,
The dark Enigmas of my Providence:
But saw me still Illustrious thro' the same,
And lov'd and spoke, spoke often of my Name.
As oft I closely listned, nor shall they
Pass unrewarded at the last Great Day,
When all their pious Services I'll own,
For in my Records I shall find 'em down,
Their Brows I'll crown with Wreaths of Victory,
Whilst Men and Angels stand Spectators by;
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And 'mongst my brightest Treasures they shall shine;
Their Frailty with more Tenderness, than ere
A Father did his only Son's, I'll spare,
And then, but ah! too late you'll find it then,
Who were the wise, the only thinking Men;
Then you shall nothing but Derision meet,
Whilst Angels them with loud Applauses greet.
| Philomela | |