| |
| IN some calm midnight, when no whispering breeze | |
| Waves the tall woods, or curls the undimpled seas, | |
| Lull’d on their oozy beds, the rivers seem | |
| Softly to murmur in a pleasing dream; | |
| The shaded fields confess a still repose, | 5 |
| And on each hand the dewy mountains drowse: | |
| Meantime the moon, fair empress of the night! | |
| In solemn silence sheds her silver light, | |
| While twinkling stars their glimmering beauties shew, | |
| And wink perpetual o’er the heavenly blue; | 10 |
| Sleep, nodding, consecrates the deep serene, | |
| And spreads her brooding wings o’er all the dusky scene; | |
| Through the fine ether moves no single breath; | |
| But all is hushed as in the arms of death. | |
| At once, great God! thy dire command is given, | 15 |
| That the last tempest shake the frame of heaven. | |
| Straight thickening clouds in gloomy volumes rise, | |
| Gather on heaps, and blacken in the skies; | |
| Sublime through heaven redoubling thunders roll; | |
| And gleaming lightnings flash from pole to pole. | 20 |
| Old ocean with presaging horror roars, | |
| And rousing earthquakes rumble round the shores; | |
| Ten thousand terrors o’er the globe are hurl’d, | |
| And general dread alarms a guilty world. | |
| But Oh! what glory breaks the scattering glooms? | 25 |
| Lo! down the opening skies, he comes! he comes! | |
| The Judge descending flames along the air; | |
| And shouting myriads pour around his car: | |
| Each ravish’d seraph labors in his praise, | |
| And saints, alternate, catch the immortal lays: | 30 |
| Here in melodious strains blest voices sing, | |
| Here warbling tubes, and here the vocal string, | |
| Here from sweet trumpets silver accents rise, | |
| And the shrill clangor echoes round the skies. | |
| And now, O earth! thy final doom attend, | 35 |
| In awful silence meet thy fiery end. | |
| Lo! rising radiant from his burning throne, | |
| The Godhead, thundering, calls the ruins on. | |
| “Curst earth! polluted with the prophets’ blood, | |
| Thou, the vile murderer of the Son of God, | 40 |
| Full ripe for vengeance, vengeance be thy due, | |
| Perish in flames, refine, and rise anew!” | |
| Thus as he speaks, all nature owns the God, | |
| Quiver the plains, the lofty mountains nod. | |
| The hollow winding caverns echo round, | 45 |
| And earth, and sea, and air, and heaven resound. | |
| Now rattling on, tremendous thunder rolls, | |
| And loudly crashing, shakes the distant poles; | |
| O’er the thick clouds amazing lightnings glare, | |
| Flames flash at flames, and vibrate through the air | 50 |
| Roaring volcanoes murmur for their prey, | |
| And from their mouth curls the black smoke away; | |
| Deep groans the earth, at its approaching doom, | |
| While in slow pomp the mighty burnings come. | |
| As when dark clouds rise slowly from the main, | 55 |
| Then, in swift sluices, deluge all the plain, | |
| Descending headlong down the mountain’s sides, | |
| A thousand torrents roll their foamy tides, | |
| The rushing rivers rapid roar around, | |
| And all the shores return the dashing sound: | 60 |
| Thus awful, slow, the fiery deluge lowers, | |
| Thus rushes down, and thus resounding roars. | |
| But O! what sounds are able to convey | |
| The wild confusions of the dreadful day! | |
| Eternal mountains totter on their base, | 65 |
| And strong convulsions work the valley’s face; | |
| Fierce hurricanes on sounding pinions soar, | |
| Rush o’er the land, on the toss’d billows roar, | |
| And dreadful in resistless eddies driven, | |
| Shake all the crystal battlements of heaven. | 70 |
| See the wild winds, big blustering in the air, | |
| Drive through the forests, down the mountains tear, | |
| Sweep o’er the valleys in their rapid course, | |
| And nature bends beneath the impetuous force. | |
| Storms rush at storms, at tempests tempests roar, | 75 |
| Dash waves on waves, and thunder to the shore. | |
| Columns of smoke on heavy wings ascend, | |
| And dancing sparkles fly before the wind. | |
| Devouring flames, wide-waving, roar aloud, | |
| And melted mountains flow a fiery flood: | 80 |
| Then, all at once, immense the fires arise, | |
| A bright destruction wraps the crackling skies; | |
| While all the elements to melt conspire, | |
| And the world blazes in the final fire. | |
| Yet shall ye, flames, the wasting globe refine, | 85 |
| And bid the skies with purer splendor shine, | |
| The earth, which the prolific fires consume, | |
| To beauty burns, and withers into bloom; | |
| Improving in the fertile flame it lies, | |
| Fades into form, and into vigor dies: | 90 |
| Fresh-dawning glories blush amidst the blaze, | |
| And nature all renews her flowery face. | |
| With endless charms the everlasting year | |
| Rolls round the seasons in a full career; | |
| Spring, ever-blooming, bids the fields rejoice, | 95 |
| And warbling birds try their melodious voice; | |
| Where’er she treads, lilies unbidden blow, | |
| Quick tulips rise, and sudden roses glow: | |
| Her pencil paints a thousand beauteous scenes, | |
| Where blossoms bud amid immortal greens; | 100 |
| Each stream, in mazes, murmurs as it flows, | |
| And floating forests gently bend their boughs. | |
| Thou, autumn, too, sitt’st in the fragrant shade, | |
| While the ripe fruits blush all around thy head: | |
| And lavish nature, with luxuriant hands, | 105 |
| All the soft months, in gay confusion blends. | |
| The holy nation here transported roves | |
| Beneath the spreading honors of the groves, | |
| And pleased, attend, descending down the hills, | |
| The murmuring music of the running rills. | 110 |
| Anthems divine by every harp are played, | |
| And the soft music warbles through the shade. | |
| Hither, my lyre, thy soft assistance bring, | |
| And let sweet accents leap from string to string: | |
| Join the bright chorus of the future skies, | 115 |
| While all around loud Hallelujah’s rise, | |
| And to the tuneful lays the echoing vault replies. | |
| This blessed hope, my ravish’d mind inspires, | |
| And through my bosom flash the sacred fires: | |
| No more my heart its growing joy contains, | 120 |
| But driving transports rush along my veins; | |
| I feel a paradise within my breast, | |
| And seem already of a heaven possess’d. | |
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