Then, loud as when the wintry whirlwinds blow, 345 From every voice the thundering plaudits flow, Darius smiled, Apame's sparkling eyes

Glanced on the King, and Woman won the prize.

Now silent sate the expectant crowd: Alone The victor Hebrew gazed not on the throne; With deeper hue his cheek distemper'd glows, With statelier stature loftier now he rose ; Heavenward he gazed, regardless of the throng, And pour'd with awful voice sublimer song.

350

"Ancient of days! Eternal Truth! one hymn, One holier strain the Bard shall raise to Thee, 356 Thee Powerful! Thee Benevolent! Thee Just! Friend! Father! All in all!.. The Vine's rich blood, The Monarch's might, and Woman's conquering charms,

These shall we praise alone? O ye who sit

360

365

Beneath your vine, and quaff at evening hour
The healthful bowl, remember Him whose dews,
Whose rains, whose sun, matured the growing fruit,
Creator and Preserver!.. Reverence Him,
O Thou who from thy throne dispensest life
And death, for He hath delegated power,
And thou shalt one day at the throne of God
Render thy strict account!... And ye who gaze
Enrapt on Beauty's fascinating form,

Gaze on with love; and loving beauty, learn
To shun abhorrent all the mental eye
Beholds deform'd and foul; for so shall Love

370

Climb to the source of goodness. God of Truth!
All-Just! All-Mighty! I should ill deserve
Thy noblest gift, the gift divine of song,

If, so content with ear-deep melodies
To please all-profitless, I did not pour
Severer strains, . . of Truth. . eternal Truth,
Unchanging Justice, universal Love.

375

Such strains awake the Soul to loftiest thoughts;

Such strains the blessed Spirits of the Good

Waft, grateful incense, to the Halls of Heaven."

381

The dying notes still murmur'd on the string, When from his throne arose the raptured King. About to speak he stood, and waved his hand, 385 And all expectant sate the obedient band.

390

Then just and generous, thus the Monarch cries, "Be thine, Zorobabel, the well-earn'd prize. The purple robe of state thy form shall fold, The beverage sparkle in thy cup of gold, The golden couch, the car, and honour'd chain, Requite the merits of thy favour'd strain, And raised supreme the ennobled race among, Be call'd My Cousin for the victor song. Nor these alone the victor song shall bless, Ask what thou wilt, and what thou wilt possess."

395

"Fallen is Jerusalem!" the Hebrew cries,

And patriot anguish fills his streaming eyes,

Hurl'd to the earth by Rapine's vengeful rod, Polluted lies the temple of our God;

400

Far in a foreign land her sons remain,

405

Hear the keen taunt, and drag the galling chain;
In fruitless woe they wear the weary years,
And steep the bread of bitterness in tears.
O Monarch, greatest, mildest, best of men,
Restore us to those ruin'd walls again!
Allow us to rebuild that sacred dome,
To live in liberty, and die at Home."

So spake Zorobabel.—Thus Woman's praise
Avail'd again Jerusalem to raise,

410

Call'd forth the sanction of the Despot's nod,
And freed the Nation best beloved of God.

Brixton Causeway, 1793.

WAT TYLER;

A DRAMA.

TWENTY years ago, upon the surreptitious publication of this notable Drama, and the use which was made of it, I said what it then became me to say in a letter to one of those gentlemen who thought proper to revile me, not for having entertained democratical opinions, but for having outgrown them, and learnt to appreciate and to defend the institutions of my country.

Had I written lewdly in my youth, like Beza,-like Beza, I would ask pardon of God and man; and no considerations should induce me to reprint what I could never think of without sorrow and shame. Had I at any time, like St. Augustine, taught doctrines which I afterwards perceived to be erroneous,and if, as in his case, my position in society, and the estimation in which I was held, gave weight to what I had advanced, and made those errors dangerous to others, like St. Augustine, I would publish my re