Behold the Prophets, full of heavenly fire,
With wandering finger wake the trembling lyre;
And hear the Martyrs tune, and all around
The church triumphant makes the region found..
With harps of gold, with bows of ever-green,
With robes of white, the pious throngs are seen ;
Exalted anthems all their hours employ ;
And all is mufic and excefs of joy.
Charm'd with the fight, I long to bear, a part;.
The pleasure flutters at my ravish'd heart.
Sweet faints and angels of the heavenly choir,
If love has warm'd with celeftial fire,.
you
Affift my words, and, as they move along,
With Hallelujahs crown the burthen'd fong.
Father of all above, and all below!
O great, and far beyond expreffion so !
No bounds thy knowledge, none thy power confine,
For power and knowledge in their fource are thine;
Around thee glory spreads her golden wing ;
Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujahs fing.
Son of the Father, firft-begotten Son!
Ere the fhort meafuring line of time begun,
The world has seen thy works, and joy'd to see
The bright effulgence manifeft, in thee.
The world muft own thy Love's unfathom'd fpring; Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujah fing.
Proceeding Spirit, equally divine,.
In whom the Godhead's full perfections fhine!
With various graces, comforts unexprefs'd,
With holy transports you refine the breaft;
And earth is heavenly where your gifts you bring,
Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujah fing.
But where's my rapture, where my wond'rous heat ? What interruption makes my blifs retreat?
This world's got in, the thoughts of t'other's croft,
And the gay picture's in my fancy loft.
With what an eager zeal the conscious foul
Would claim its feat, and, foaring, pafs the pole !
But our attempts these chains of earth reftrain.
Deride our toil, and drag us down again.
So from the ground afpiring meteors go,
And, rank'd with planets, light the world below,
But their own bodies fink them in the sky,
When the warmth's gone that taught them how to fly,
HILE Cam and Ifis their fad tribute bring
Of rival grief, to weep their pious king
The bards of Ifis half had been forgot,
Had not the fons of Cam in pity wrote;
From their learn'd brothers they took off the curfe,
And prov'd their verfe not bad-by writing worfe,
Leonidas's Addrefs to his Countrymen,
Remains unfhaken. Rifing he displays
His godlike prefence. Dignity and grace
Adorn his frame, and manly beauty, join'd
With ftrength Herculean. On his afpect fhines.
Sublimeft virtue, and defire of fame,
Where justice gives the laurel; in her eye
The inextinguishable spark, which fires
The fouls of patriots; while his brow fupports
Undaunted valour, and contempt of death.
Serene he rofe, and thus addrefs'd the throng :
Why this aftonifhment on ev'ry face,
Ye men of Sparta! Does the name of death
Create this fear and wonder? O my friends ;
Why do we labour thro' the arduous paths
Which lead to virtue? Fruitlefs were the toil,
Above the reach of human feet were plac'd
The diftant fummit, if the fear of death
Could intercept our paffage. But in vain
His blackeft frowns and terrors he affumes,
To fhake the firmness of the mind, which knows
That, wanting virtue, life is pain and woe;
That wanting liberty, ev'n virtue mourns,
And looks around for happiness in vain.`
Then fpeak, O Sparta, and demand my life;
My heart exulting, anfwers to thy call,
And fimiles on glorious fate. To live with fame
The gods allow to many; but to die.
With equal luftre, is a blefling Heaven
Selects from all the choiceft boons of fate,
And with a sparing hand on few bestows.
Leonidas Anfwer to the Perfian Ambaffador.
RETURN to Xerxes; tell him on this rock
The Grecians, faithful to their poft, await
His chofen myriads; tell him, thou haft feen
How far the luft of empire is below.
A free-born mind: and tell him, to behold
A tyrant humbled, and by virtuous death
To feal my country's freedom, is a good
Surpaffing all his boafted pow'r can give.
Pathetic Farewell of Leonidas to his Wife and Family. I See, I feel thy angu fh, nor my foul
Has ever known the prevalence of love, E'er prov'd a father's fonduefs, as this hour: Nor, when moft ardent to affert my fame,
Was once my heart infenfible to thee.
How had it ftain'd the honours of my name
To hesitate a moment, and fufpend
My country's fate, to fhameful life preferr'd
By my inglorious colleague left no choice,
But what in me were infamy to fhun,
Not virtue to accept! Then deem no more
That, of my love regardlefs, or thy tears,
I hafle uncall'd to death. The voice of fate,
The gods, my fame, my country, bid me bleed.
O thou dear mourner! wherefore streams afresh
That flood of woe? Why heaves with fighs renew'd
That tender breaft? Leonidas muft fall.
Alas! far heavier mifery impends
O'er thee and thefe, if foften'd by thy tears
I fhamefully refufe to yield that breath,
Which juftice, glory, liberty, and Heaven
Claim for my country, for my fons, and thee.
Think on my long unalter'd love. Reflect
On my paternal fondnefs. Has my heart
E'er known a pause of love, or pious care?
Now fhall that care, that tenderuefs, be prov'd
Moft warm and faithful. When thy husband dies
For Lacedæmon's fafety, thou wilt share,
Thou and thy children, the diffufive good.
Should I, thus fingled from the reft of men,
Alone entrusted by th' immortal gods
With pow'r to fave a people, fhould my foul
Defert that facred caufe, thee too I yield
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