XXIV.

Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong, 'Till angels liften to the fong,

And bend attentive down;

Let wonder seize the heav'nly train,

Pleas'd, while they hear a mortal strain,
So fweet, fo like their own.

XXV.

And you, your thankful voices join,

That oft at Salem's facred shrine

Before his altars kneel;

Where thron'd in majefty he dwells,
And from the mystic cloud reveals

The dictates of his will.

XXVI.

Ye fpirits of the just and good,
That, eager for the bleft abode,
To heav'nly manfions foar :
O! let your fongs his praise display,
'Till heav'n itself fhall melt away,

And time fhall be no more.

XXVII.

Praise him, ye meek and humble train,

Ye faints, whom his decrees ordain

The boundless blifs to fhare;

O! praise him, 'till ye

take your way

To regions of eternal day,

And reign for ever there.

XXVIII.

Let us, who now impassive stand,

Aw'd by the tyrant's stern command,
Amid the fiery blaze;

While thus we triumph in the flame,
Rife, and our Maker's love proclaim,
In hymns of endless praise.

An ODE to FANCY.

F

By the Same.

ANCY, whofe delufions vain.

Sport themselves with human brain;

Rival thou of Nature's pow'r,

Can'ft, from thy exhaustless store,

Bid a tide of forrow, flow,

And whelm the foul in deepest woe:

Or in the twinkling of an eye,

Raise it to mirth and jollity.

Dreams

Dreams and shadows by thee ftand,
Taught to run at thy command,

And along the wanton air,
Flit like empty Goffimer.

Thee, black Melancholy of yore
To the swift-wing'd Hermes bore:
From the mixture of thy line,
Different natures in thee join,

Which thou chufeft to express
By the variance of thy drefs.
Now like thy fire thou lov'st to seem
Light and gay with pinions trim,
Dipt in all the dyes that glow
In the bend of Iris' bow:

Now like thy mother drear and fad,

(All in mournful vestments clad,
Cypress weeds and fable stole,)

Thou rusheft on th' affrighted foul.
Oft I feel thee coming on,

When the night hath reach'd her noon,

And darkness, partner of her reign,
Round the world hath bound her chain,
Then with measur'd step and slow,

In the church-yard path I go,

And

And while my outward fenfes fleep,
Loft in contemplation deep,

Sudden I stop, and turn my ear,

And lift'ning hear, or think I hear.
First a dead and fullen found

Walks along the holy ground;

Then through the gloom alternate break
Groans, and the fhrill fcreech-owl's fhriek.
Lo! the moon hath hid her head,
And the graves give up their dead:
By me pass the ghaftly crowds,
Wrapt in vifionary shrouds;

Maids, who died with love forlorn,

Youths, who fell by maidens' fcorn,

Helpless fires, and matrons old

Slain for fordid thirst of gold,

And babes, who owe their fhorten'd date

To cruel ftep-dames ruthlefs hate;

Each their fev'ral errands go,

To haunt the wretch that wrought their woe:

From their fight the caitiff flies,

And his heart within him dies ;

While a horror damp and chill
Through his frozen blood doth thrill,

And

And his hair for very dread

Bears itself upon his head.

When the early breath of day

Hath made the fhadows flee away;

Still poffefs'd by thee I rove

Bofom'd in the fhelt'ring grove,
There, with heart and lyre new ftrung,

Meditate the lofty song.

And if thou my voice inspire,
And with wonted frenzy fire,
Aided by thee I build the rhyme
Such, as nor the flight of time,
Nor wafting flame, nor eating show'r,
Nor light'ning's blaft can e'er devour.
Or if chance fome moral page
My attentive thoughts engage,
On I walk, with filent tread,
Under the thick-woven fhade,
While the thrush, unheeded by,
Tunes her artless minstrelfy.
Lift'ning to their facred lore,

I think on ages long paft o'er,

When Truth and Virtue hand in hand

Walk'd upon the fmiling land.