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The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D.

Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes

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TO DR. WATTS, On reading his Horæ Lyricæ.
  
  
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TO DR. WATTS, On reading his Horæ Lyricæ.

Hail, heav'n-born muse! that with celestial flame,
‘And high seraphic numbers, durst attempt
‘To gain thy native skies. No common theme
‘Merits thy thought, self-conscious of a soul
‘Superior, though on earth detain'd a while;
‘Like some propitious angel that's design'd
‘A resident in this inferior orb,
‘To guide the wand'ring souls to heavenly bliss.

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‘Thou seem'st; while thou their everlasting songs
‘Hast sung to mortal ears, and down to earth
‘Transfer'd the work of heaven; with thought sublime,
‘And high sonorous words, thou sweetly sing'st
‘To thy immortal lyre. Amaz'd, we view
‘The tow'ring height stupendous, while thou soar'st
‘Above the reach of vulgar eyes or thought,
‘Hymning th'eternal Father; as of old
‘When first th'Almighty from the dark abyss
‘Of everlasting night and silence call'd
‘The shining worlds with one creating word,
‘And rais'd from nothing all the heavenly hosts,
‘And with external glories fill'd the void,
‘Harmonious seraphs tun'd their golden harps,
‘And with their cheerful Hallelujahs bless'd
‘The bounteous Author of their happiness;
‘From orb to orb th'alternate music rang,
‘And from the chrystal arches of the sky
‘Reach'd our then glorious world, the native seat
‘Of the first happy pair, who join'd their songs
‘To the loud echoes of th'angelic choirs,
‘And fill'd with blissful hymns, terrestrial heaven,
‘The paradise of God where all delights
‘Abounded, and the pure ambrosial air,
‘Fann'd by mild zephyrs, breath'd eternal sweets,
‘Forbidding death and sorrow, and bestow'd
‘Fresh heavenly bloom, and gay immortal youth.
‘Not so, alas! the vile apostate race,
‘Who in mad joys their brutal hours employ'd,
‘Assaulting with their impious blasphemies
‘The power supreme that gave 'em life and breath;
‘Incarnate fiends! outrageous they defy'd
‘Th'eternal thunder, and almighty wrath
‘Fearless provok'd, which all the other devils
‘Would dread to meet; remembering well the day
‘When driven from pure immortal seats above,
‘A fiery tempest hurl'd 'em down the skies,
‘And hung upon the rear, urging their fall
‘To the dark, deep, unfathomable gulph,
‘Where bound on sulph'rous lakes to glowing rocks
‘With adamantine chains, they wail their woes,
‘And know Jehovah great as well as good;
‘And fix'd for ever by eternal fate,
‘With horror find his arm omnipotent.
‘Prodigious madness! that the sacred muse,
‘First taught in heaven to mount immortal heights,
‘And trace the boundless glories of the sky,
‘Should now to ev'ry idol basely bow,
‘And curse the deity she once ador'd,
‘Erecting trophies to each sordid vice,
‘And celebrating the infernal praise
‘Of haughty Lucifer, the desperate foe
‘Of God and man, and winning every hour
‘New votaries to hell, while all the fiends
‘Hear these accursed lays, and thus outdone,
‘Raging they try to match the human race,
‘Redoubling all their hellish blasphemies,
‘And with loud curses rend the gloomy vault.
‘Ungrateful mortals! ah! too late you'll find
‘What 'tis to banter heav'n and laugh at hell;
‘To dress up vice in false delusive charms,
‘And with gay colours paint her hideous face,
‘Leading besotted souls thro' flow'ry paths,
‘In gaudy dreams, and vain fantastic joys,
‘To dismal scenes of everlasting woe;
‘When the great Judge shall rear his awful throne,
‘And raging flames surround the trembling globe,
‘While the loud thunders roar from pole to pole,
‘And the last trump awakes the sleeping dead;
‘And guilty souls to ghastly bodies driven,
‘Within those dire eternal prisons shut,
‘Expect their sad inexorable doom.
‘Say now, ye men of wit! What turn of thought
‘Will please you then! Alas, how dull and poor,
‘Ev'n to yourselves will your lewd flights appear!
‘How will you envy then the happy fate
‘Of idiots! and perhaps in vain you'll wish,
‘You'd been as very fools as once you thought
‘Others, for the sublimest wisdom scorn'd;
‘When pointed lightnings from the wrathful Judge
‘Shall singe your laurels, and the men
‘Who thought they flew so high, shall fall so low.
‘No more, my muse, of that tremendous thought,
‘Resume thy more delightful theme, and sing
‘Th'immortal man, that with immortal verse
‘Rivals the hymns of angels, and like them
‘Despises mortal critics idle rules:
‘While the celestial flame that warms thy soul
‘Inspires us, and with holy transports moves
‘Our labouring minds, and nobler scenes presents
‘Than all the pagan poets ever sung.
‘Homer or Virgil; and far sweeter notes
‘Than Horace ever taught his sounding lyre,
‘And purer far, tho' Martial's self might seem
‘A modest poet in our christian days.
‘May those forgotten and neglected lie,
‘No more let man be fond of fab'lous gods,
‘Nor heathen wit debauch one christian line,
‘While with the coarse and daubing paint we hide
‘The shining beauties of eternal truth,
‘That in her native dress appears most bright,
‘And charms the eyes of angels,—Oh! like thee
‘Let every nobler genius tune his voice
‘To subjects worthy of their tow'ring thoughts

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‘Let HEAVEN and Anna then your tuneful art
‘Improve, and consecrate your deathless lays
‘To him who reigns above, and her who rules below.’
JOSEPH STANDEN.
April 17, 1706.