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And writhed his neck: the landlord's little pride,
Consused, and struck with silence at the deed,
Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, “ Detested wretch!” But scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man: His youthful face grew more serenely sweet, His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair, Celestial odours breathe through purpled air ; And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. The form ethereal burst upon his sight, And moves in all the majesty of light.
Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew, Sudden he gazed, and wist not what to do; Surprise in secret chains his words suspends, And in a calm his settling temper ends. But silence here the beauteous angel broke (The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke).
“Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In sweet memorial rise before the throne:
These charms, success in our bright region find,
« Then know the truth of government divine, And let these scruples be no longer thine.
“ The Maker justly claims that world he made, In this the right of Providence is laid; Its sacred majesty through all depends On using second means to work his ends : 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, The power exertş his attributes on high; Your actions uses, nor controls your will, And bids the doubting sons of men be still. [prise,
“What strange events can strike with more surThan those which lately struck thy wondering eyes ? Yet, taught by these, confess th’ Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!
“ The great, vain man, who fared on costly food, Whose life was too luxurious to be good, Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.
“The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er moved in duty to the wandering poor, With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That Heaven can bless if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon his head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And loose from dross the silver runs below.
“Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean’d his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he lived in pain, And measured back his steps to earth again.
To what excessess had his dotage run?
“But now had all his fortune felt a wrack,
On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew,
The bending hermit here a prayer begun, “ Lord!
in heaven, on earth thy will be do e:" Then, gladly turning, sought his ancient place, And pass'd a life of piety and peace.
PIETY, OR THE VISION. 'Twas when the night in silent sable fled, When cheerful morning sprung with rising red, When dreams and vapours leave to crowd the brain, And best the vision draws its heavenly scene; 'Twas then, as slumbering on my couch I lay, A sudden splendour seem'd to kindle day; A breeze came breathing in a sweet perfume, Blown from eternal gardens, fill'd the room; And in a void of blue that clouds invest, Appear'd a daughter of the realms of rest: Her head a ring of golden glory wore, Her honour'd hand the sacred volume bore,
Her raiment, glittering, seem'd a silver white, And all her sweet companions sons of light. Straight as I gazed, my fear and wonder grew,
I Fear barr'd my voice, and wonder fix'd my view; When lo! a cherub of the shining crowd, That sail'd as guardian in her azure cloud, Fann'd the soft air, and downward seem'd to glide, And to my lips a living coal applied. Then while the warmth o'er all my pulses ran, Diffusing comfort, thus the maid began :
“Where glorious mansions are prepared above, The seats of music and the seats of love, Thence I descend, and Piety my name, To warm thy bosom with celestial flame; To teach thee praises mix'd with humble prayers, And tune thy soul to sing seraphic airs. Be thou my bard.” A vial here she caught (An angel's hand the crystal vial brought); And, as with awful sound the word was said, She pour'd a sacred unction on my head; Then thus proceeded : “Be thy muse thy zeal, Dare to be good, and all my joys reveal. While other pencils flattering forms create, And paint the gaudy plumes that deck the great; While other pens exalt the vain delight, Whose wasteful revel wakes the depth of night; Or others softly sing in idle lines How Damon courts, or Amaryllis shines; More wisely thou select a theme divine, Fame is their recompense, 'tis heaven is thine. Despise the raptures of discorded fire, Where wine, or passion, or applause inspire Low, restless life, and ravings born of earth, Whose meaner subjects speak their humble birth, Like working seas, that, when loud winters blow, Not made for rising, only rage below. Mine is a warm and yet a lambent heat, More lasting still as more intensely great;
Produced where pray’r, and praise, and pleasure
“But urge thy powers, thine utmost voice advance,
“Ah! while I speak, I feel my bosom swell, My raptures smother what I long to tell. 'Tis God! a present God! through cleaving air I see the throne, and see the Jesus there Placed on the right. He shows the wounds he bore (My fervours oft have won him thus before):