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32 
POEMS ON

An HYMN to the MORNING

ATTEND my lays, ye ever honor'd nine
Assist my labors, and my ftrains refine;
In smoothest numbers pour the notes along, 
For bright Aurora now demands my fong.
Aurora hail, and all the thousand dies,     5
Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies:
The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays,
On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays:
Harmonious lays the feather'd race resume,
Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume.     10
Ye shady groves, your verdant gloom display
To shield your poet from the burning day;
Calliope awake the sacred lyre
While thy fair sisters fan the pleasing fire:
The bow'rs, the gales, the variegated skies     15
In all their pleasures in my bosom rise.
  See in the east th' illustrious king of day!
His rising radiance drives the shades away --
But Oh! I feel his fervid beams too strong,
And scarce begun, concludes th' abortive song.     20

An HYMN to the EVENING.

SOON as the sun forsook the eastern main,
The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain;
Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing,
Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.
Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their notes,     5
And through the air their mingled music floats.
Through all the heav'ns what beauteous dies? are
   spread!
But the west glories in the deepest red;
     So

VARIOUS SUBJECTS.  53
So may our breasts with ev'ry virtue glow,
The living temples of our God below!     10
Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light,
And draws the sable curtains of the night,
Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind,
At morn to wake more heavn'ly, more refin'd;
So shall the labors of the day begin     15
More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin.
Night's leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes,
Then cease, my song, till fair Aurora rise.

ISAIAH lxiii. 1------8.

SAY, heav'nly muse, what king, or mighty God,
That moves sublime from Idumea's road?
In Bozrah's dies, with martial glories join'd,
His purple vesture waves upon the wind.
Why thus enrob'd delights he to appear     5
In the dread image of the Pow'r of war?
Compress'd in wrath the swelling wine-press groan'd,
It bled, and pour'd the gushing purple round.
"Mine was the ac" th' Almighty Savior said,
And shook the dazzling glories of his head,     10
"When all forsook I trod the press alone,
"And conquer'd by omnipotence my own;
"For man's release sustain'd the pond'rous load,
"For man the wrath of an immortal God:
"To execute th' Eternal's dread command     15
"My soul I sacrific'd with willing hand;
"Sinless I stood before the avenging frown,
"Atoning thus for vices not my own."
His eye the ample field of battle round
Survey'd, but no created succors found;     20
His own omnipotence sustain'd the fight,
His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night;
         Beneath