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Supine on earth an awful figure lies, While foftest numbers seem to seal his eyes; The hoary fire Heav'n's guardian care demands, And at his feet the watchful angel stands. The form august and large, the mein divine, Betray the founder of Messiah's line. + Lo! from his ins the promis'd fem ascend, And high to heav'n its facred boughs extend : Each limb productive of some hero springs, And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings. Th'eternal plant wide spreads its arms around, And with the mighty branch the mystic top is crown'da

And lo! the glories of th’illustrious line, At their first dawn with ripen'd splendors shinc, In David all express’d; the good, the great, The king, the hero, and the man complete. Serenc he fits, and sweeps the golden lyre, And blends the prophet's with the poet's fire. See! with what art he strikes the vocal strings, The God, his theme, inspiring what he sings! Hark!-or our ears delude us—from his tongue Sweet flows, or seems to flow, fome heav'nly song. Oh, could thine art arrest the fleeting found, And paint the voice in magic numbers bound; Could the warm sun, as erst when Memnon play!d, Wake with his rising beam the vocal shade; Then might he draw the attentive angels down, Bending to hear the lay, so tweet, fo like their own. On either fide the monarch's offspring shine, And fome adorn, and some disgrace their line. Here Ainmon glories ; proud incestuous lord ! This hand sustains the robe, and that the sword.

of Jesse.

Frowning and fierce, with haughty strides he tow'rs,
And on his horrid brow dehance low'rs.
There Absolom the ravilh'd sceptre fways,
And bis stoľn honour all his shame displays:
The base usurper youth! who joins in one
The rebel subject, and th’ ungrateful fon.

Amid th’ royai race fee Nathan fiand:
Fervent he seems to speak, and litt his hand;
His looks th' emotion of his foul di{close,
And eloquence from ev'ry gesture tlows.
Such, and fo ftern he came, ordain’d to bring
Th’ungrateful mandate to th' guilty king:
When, at his dreadful voice, a sudden (niart
Shot through the trembling monarch's conscious heart,
From his own lips condemn'd; levere decree!
Had his God prov'd so stern a judge as he.
But man with frailty is ally'd by birth;
Confumniate purity ne'er dwelt on earth!
Through all the soul, though virtue holds the rein,
Beats at the heart, and fprings in ev'ry vein,
Yet ever from the clearesi fource have ran
Some grofs alloy, fome tincture of the man.

But who is he, decp-muling ? in his mind, He seems to weigh in reason's scales mankind ; Fix'd contemplation holds his steady eyes I know the faye,f the witeli of tlie wise. Blest with all man could with, or prince obtain, Yet his great heart pronounc'd those bleslings vain And lo! bright glittring in his facred hands, lu miniature, ihe glorious temple fands, Etilgent frame! fi upendous to behold! Goid the ftrong valves, the roof of burnih'd gold,

+ Solomon

The wandring ark, in that bright dome enshrin'd,
Spreads the firong light eternal, unconfin'd!
Above th’unuiterable glory plays,
Presence Divine ! and the full-fireaming rays
Pour through reluctant clouds intolerable blaze.

But ftern oppretilon rends Reboam's reign ;
See the gay prince, injurious, proud, and vain !
TH' imperial sceptre totters in his hand,
And proud Rebellion triumphs in the land.
Curs'd with Corruption's ever-fruitful spring,
A beardless fenate, and a haughty king.

There Afa, good and great, the sceptre bears,
Jufiice attends his peace, success his wars ;
While virtue was his sword, and heav'n his shield,
Withou! controul the warrior swept the field ;
Loaded with fpoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her swarthy fons fad Ethiopia mourn'd.
But tince thy figging piety ciecay'd,
And barter'd God's defence for human aid ;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow,
Nor herbs, nor healthful arts avail thee now;
Nor is Heaven chang'd, apoftate prince, but thou,
No mean atonement does this lapse require ;
But see the fun, you must forgive the fire :
He, the just prince, with ev'ry virtue bless’d,
He reign'd, and goodness all the man possess’d;
Around the throne fair happiness and peace
Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and smil'd in ev'ry face.
As shen along the burning vaste he stray'd,
Where no pure ftrenis in bubbling mazes play'd,
Where Drought incumbent on the thirsty ground
Long lince had breath'di her scorching blafts around,

i Josaphat.

The prophet of calls, th' obedient foods repair
To the parch'd fields, for Josaphat was there.
The new-sprung waves, in many a gurgling vein,
Trickle luxurious through the sucking plain;
Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn,
And o'er the desert Plenty pours her horn.
So from the throne his influence he sheds,
And bids the virtues raise their languid heads :
Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails,
Oppression files, and Justice lifts her scales.
See on his arm, the royal cagle stand,
Great type of conquefi and fupreme command;
Th’exulting bird distinguish'd triumph brings,
And greets the monarch with expanded wings.
Fierce Moab's fons prevent th' impending blow,
Rush on themselves, and fall without the foe.
The pious hero vanquilh'd heav'n by pray'r ;
His faith an army, and his vows a war.
There too, Ofias, fates indulgent bless’d,
And thy days shone, in fairest actions dress'd :
Till that raih hand hy fome blind phrenzy (way'd,
Unclean, the facred office durft invade.
Quick o'er thy limbs tbe scurfy venum ran,
And hoary filth besprinkled all the man.

Transmissive worth adorns the pious son, I
The father's virtues with the father's throne.
Lo! there he stands: he who the rage subdued
Of Ammon's fons, and drench'd his sword in blood.
And doit thou, Ahaz, Judah's fcourge, disgrace,
With thy base front, the glories of thy race ?

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See the vile kiog his iron sceptre bear-
His only praise attends the pious heir ; $
He in whose foul the virtues all confpire,
The best good fon, from the worst wicked fire,
And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign,
Long-esild Piety returns again;
Again in genuine purity le thines,
And with her presence gilds the long-neglected fhrinese
Ill-starr'd does proud Affyria's impious lord ||
Bid Heaven to arms, and vaunt his dreadful sword;
His own vain threats th’ insulting king o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foe.
Th’avenging Angel, ky Divine command,
The fiery sword full-blazing in bis hand,
Leant down from heaven : amid the storm he rode,
March'd Pestilence before him ; as he trod,
Pale Desolation bath’d his steps in blood.
Thick wrapt in night, through the proud hoft he palad,
Difpenfing death, and drove the furious blatt ;
Nor bade Destruction give her revels o'er,
Till the gorg’a sword was drunk with human gore.
But what avails thee, pious prince, in vain
Thy fceptre rescu'd, and the Affyrian Nain ?
E'en now the foul maintains her latest frife,
And Death's chill grasp congeals the fount of life.
Yet sce, kind Heav’n renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen summers o'er thy head ;
Lo! the receding fun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Though Nature her inverted course forego,
The day forget to reit, the time to flow,

$Hezekiah. Sernacherib.

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