Swarm in the ftreets. The statesman of the day,
A pompous and flow-moving pageant, comes.
Some fhout him, and fome hang upon his car,
To gaze in's eyes, and blefs him. Maidens wave
Their 'kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy:
While others, not so satisfied, unhorse

The gilded equipage, and turning loofe
His fteeds, ufurp a place they well deserve.
Why? what has charmed them? Hath he faved
the ftate?

No. Doth he purpose its falvation? No.
Enchanting novelty, that moon at full,

That finds out every crevice of the head,
That is not found and perfect, hath in their's
Wrought this difturbance. But the wane is near,
And his own cattle muft fuffice him foon.

Thus idly do we wafte the breath of praise,
And dedicate a tribute, in its ufe

And just direction facred, to a thing
Doomed to the duft, or lodged already there.
Encomium in old time was poets' work;
But poets, having lavishly long fince

Exhaufted all materials of the art,

The task now falls into the public hand;

And I, contented with an humbler theme,

Have poured my ftream of panegyric down
The vale of nature, where it creeps, and winds
Among her lovely works with a fecure
And unambitious course, reflecting clear,
If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes.
And I am recompenfed, and deem the toils
Of poetry not loft, if verse of mine

May ftand between an animal and woe,
And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge.

The groans of nature in this nether world, Which Heaven has heard for ages, have an end. Foretold by prophets, and by poets fung, Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp, The time of reft, the promised fabbath, comes. Six thousand years of forrow have well-nigh Fulfilled their tardy and difastrous course Over a finful world; and what remains Of this tempeftuous ftate of human things Is merely as the working of a fea

Before a calm, that rocks itself to reft:

For He, whofe car the winds are, and the clouds

The duft, that waits upon his fultry march,

When fin hath moved him, and his wrath is hot,
Shall visit earth in mercy; fhall defcend
Propitious in his chariot paved with love;
And what his ftorms have blafted and defaced
For man's revolt fhall with a smile repair.

Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet Not to be wronged by a mere mortal touch: Nor can the wonders it records be fung To meaner mufic, and not fuffer lofs. But when a poet, or when one like me, Happy to rove among poetic flowers, Though poor in fkill to rear them, lights at last On fome fair theme, fome theme divinely fair, Such is the impulfe and the fpur he feels To give it praise proportioned to its worth, That not to attempt it, arduous as he deems The labour, were a task more arduous still.

Oh scenes furpaffing fable, and yet true, Scenes of accomplished bliss; which who can see, Though but in diftant profpect, and not feel His foul refreshed with foretaste of the joy? Rivers of gladness water all the earth,

And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach
Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field
Laughs with abundance; and the land, once lean,
Or fertile only in its own difgrace,

Exults to fee its thiftly curfe repealed.

The various feasons woven into one,

And that one feason an eternal spring,

The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, For there is none to covet, all are full.

The lion, and the libbard, and the bear

Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon Together, or all gambol in the fhade

Of the fame grove, and drink one common ftream.
Antipathies are none. No foe to man

Lurks in the ferpent now: the mother fees,
And smiles to fee, her infant's playful hand
Stretched forth to dally with the crefted worm,
To ftroke his azure neck, or to receive
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.
All creatures worship man, and all mankind
One Lord, one Father. Error has no place:
That creeping peftilence is driven away;

The breath of heaven has chafed it. In the heart
No paffion touches a difcordant firing,

But all is harmony and love.

Disease

Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood
Holds its due course, nor fears the froft of age.
One fong employs all nations; and all cry,
Worthy the Lamb, for he was flain for us!"
The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks
Shout to each other, and the mountain tops
From diftant mountains catch the flying joy;
Till nation after nation taught the ftrain,
Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Behold the measure of the promise filled;
See Salem built, the labour of a God!
Bright as a fun the facred city fhines;
All kingdoms and all princes of the earth
Flock to that light; the glory of all lands
Flows into her; unbounded is her joy,

And endless her increafe. Thy rams are there,
* Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there;
The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind,
And Saba's fpicy groves, pay tribute there.
Praise is in all her gates: upon her walls,

* Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progenitors of the Arabs, in the prophetic fcripture here alluded to, may be reasonably confidered as representatives of the Gentiles at large.