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Fair Liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envy'd walls securely rise.
And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again shalt lift sublime thy sacred head.
But ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint resemblance of the old in you.
No more th' effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful answers, from the mystic cloud:
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine,
And Heav'n has left thy solitary shrine.
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter, shalt thou see
Presence immediate of the Deity,
The light himself reveal’d, the God confess'd

in Thee.
And now, at length, the fatal term of years
The world's desire have brought, and lo! the

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God appears.

The Heav'nly Babe the Virgin Mother bears,
And her fond looks confess the parent's cares.
The pleasing burthen on her breast fhe lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a smile surveys.
The Infant smiles, to her fond bosom prest,
And wantons, sportive, on the mother's breast.
A radiant glory speaks him all Divine,
And in the Child the beams of Godhead shine.

But now alas ! far other views disclose
The blackest comprehensive scene of woes.

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See where man's voluntary sacrifice
Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies !
Fixt to the Cross, his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy (treams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life exhaufting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the ftubborn soul!
As all death's tortures, with severe delay,
Exult, and riot in the nobleit

And can'ít thou, stupid man, those sorrows fee,
Nor share the anguish which He bears for Thee?
Thy sin, for which his sacred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn;
Can'st thou ? ---while nature smarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the sympathetic ground !
Lo! the black sun, his chariot backward driv’n,
blots out the day, and perishes from Heav'n:
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part,
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart.
The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign,
And the cold clay-clad dead, start into life again.

And thou, O tomb, once more shalt wide display, Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey. 'Thou, groaning earth shalt heave, absorpt in flame, As the last pangs convulse thy lab'ring frame; When the same God unthrouded thou shalt see, Wrapt in full blaze of Power and Majesty, Ride on the clouds ; whilft, as his chariot flies, The bright effusion streams thro' all the skies.

Then shall the proud diffolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow :
The molten deluge round the globe shall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.
Then shall the splendors of th' enliven'd glass
Sink undistinguish'd in the burning mass.
And O! till earth, and feas, and Heav'n decay,
Ne'er may that fair creation fade away;
May winds and storms those beauteous colours

Still may they bloom, as permanent as fair,
All the vain rage of wasting time repell,
And his Tribunal fee, whose Cross they paint fo


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AIR morn ascends: fresh zephyrs breath

Blows liberal o'er yon bloomy heath;
Where, sown profusely, herb and flower,
Of balmy smell, of healing power,
Their souls in fragrant dews exhale,
And breathe fresh life in every gale.
Here spreads a green expanse of plains,
Where, sweetly-pensive, Silence reigns :
And there, at utmost stretch of

A mountain fades into the sky;
While winding round, diffus'd and deep,
A river rolls with sounding sweep.
Of human art no traces near,
I seem alone with Nature here!

Here are thy walks, O sacred HEALTH!
The Monarch's bliss, the Beggar's wealth ;
The seasoning of all good below;
The sovereign friend in joy or woe.

O Thou most courted, most despis'd,
And but in absence duly priz'd !
Power of the soft and rosy face!
The vivid pulse, the vermil grace,
The spirits when they gayest shine,
Youth, beauty, pleasure, all are thine !
O sun of life! whose heavenly ray
Lights up, and chears, our various day,
The turbulence of hopes and fears,
The storm of fate, the cloud of years,
Till Nature with thy parting light,
Reposes late in Death's calm night :
Fled from the trophy'd roofs of state,
Abodes of splendid pain, and hate ;
Fled from the couch, where, in sweet sleep,
Hot Riot would his anguish steep,
But toffes thro' the midnight shade,
Of death, of life, alike afraid;
For ever fed to shady cell,
Where Temperance, where the Muses dwell ;
Thou oft art feen, at early dawn,
Slow-pacing o'er the breezy lawn:
Or on the brow of mountain high,
In silence feasting ear and eye,
With song and prospect, which abound
From birds, and woods and waters rouud.

But when the sun, with noon-tide ray,
Flames forth intolerable day;

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