 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
PARAPHRASE FROM THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER OF ISAIAH
Woe to thy numbers fierce and rude,Thou madly rushing multitude,
Loud as the Tempest which o'er Ocean raves!
Woe to the Nations proud and strong
Which pour tumultuously along,
As rolls the foaming stream its long resounding waves!
As the noise of mighty seas,
As the loudly eddying breeze,
Shall gath'ring nations rush, a powerful band;
But Israel's God, in burning wrath unfurl'd
Shall stretch to sweep them from the World
His thunder-grasping hand.
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Far and wide the chaff is blown,
As, before the whirlwind's rage,
Flies the rolling thistle down,
So, at the avenging nod
Of a great Eternal God,
Shall fly, to endless ruin driven
Th' oppressors of the weak—the enemies of Heav'n.
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |