So deep the filence, and so strong the blast,
As nature dy'd, when she had groan'd her last.
Nor man, nor angel, moves; the Judge on high
Looks round, and with his glory fills the sky:
Then on the fatal book his hand he lays,
Which high to view fupporting feraphs raife;
In folemn form the rituals are prepar'd,
The feal is broken, and a groan is heard.
And thou, my foul, (oh fall to fudden prayer,
And let the thought fink deep!) shalt thou be there?
See on the left (for by the great command
The throng divided falls on either hand;)
How weak, how pale, how haggard, how obfcene,
What more than death in every face and mien ?
With what distress, and glarings of affright,
They fhock the heart, and turn away the fight?
In gloomy orbs their trembling eye-balls roll,
And tell the horrid fecrets of the four.
Each gefture mourns, each look is black with care,
And every groan is loaden with despair.
Reader, if guilty, spare the Muse, and find
A truer image pictur'd in thy mind.
Shouldst thou behold thy brother, father, wife,
And all the foft companions of thy life,
Whose blended interefts level'd at one aim,
Whose mix'd defires fent up one common flame,
Divided far; thy wretched Self alone
Caft on the left, of all whom thou hast known;
How would it wound? What millions wouldst thou give
For One more trial, One more day to live?
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Flung back in time an hour, a moment's space,
To grafp with eagerness the means of Grace;
Contend for mercy with a pious rage,
And in that moment to redeem an age?
Drive back the tide, fufpend a ftorm in air,
Arreft the Sun; but ftill of this defpair.
Mark, on the right, how amiable a grace!
'Their Maker's image fresh in every face!
What purple bloom my ravish'd foul admires,
And their eyes sparkling with immortal fires!
Triumphant beauty! charms that rise above
This world, and in blest angels kindle love!
To the Great Judge with holy pride they turn,
And dare behold th' Almighty's anger burn;
Its flash fuftain, against its terror rife,
And on the dread tribunal fix their eyes.
Are these the forms that moulder'd in the duft?
Oh the tranfcendent glory of the juft!
Yet ftill fome thin remains of fear and doubt,
Th' infected brightness of their joy pollute.
Thus the chafte bridegroom, when the priest draws nigh,
Beholds his bleffing with a trembling eye,
Feels doubtful paffions throb in every vein,
And in his cheeks are mingled joy and pain,
Left still some intervening chance should rise,
Leap forth at once, and snatch the golden prize;
Inflame his woe, by bringing it so late,
And ftab him in the crifis of his fate.
Since Adam's family, from firft to last,
Now into one diftinct furvey is caft;
Look round, vain-glorious Mufe, and you whoe'er
Devote yourselves to fame, and think her fair;
Look round, and feek the lights of human race,
Whose shining acts Time's brightest annals grace;
Who founded fects; crowns conquer'd, or refign'd;
Gave names to nations; or fam'd empires join'd;
Who rais'd the vale, and laid the mountain low;
And taught obedient rivers where to flow;
Who with vaft fleets, as with a mighty chain,
Could bind the madness of the roaring main:
All loft? all undistinguish'd? no-where found?
How will this truth in Bourbon's palace found?
That bour, on which th' Almighty King on high
From all eternity has fix'd his eye,
Whether his right-hand favour'd, or annoy'd,
Continued, alter'd, threaten'd, or destroy'd;
Southern or eastern fceptre downward hurl'd,
Gave north or weft dominion o'er the world;
The point of time, for which the world was built,
For which the blood of God himself was fpilt,
That dreadful moment is arriv'd-
Aloft, the feats of blifs their pomp display Brighter than brightnefs, this diftinguifh'd day; Lefs glorious, when of old th' eternal Son From realms of night return'd with trophies won : Through heaven's high gates, when he triumphant rode, And fhouting angels hail'd the Victor God. D 2
Horrors, beneath, darkness in darkness, hell
Of hell, where torments behind torments dwell;
A furnace formidable, deep, and wide,
O'er-boiling with a mad fulphureous tide,
Expands its jaws, most dreadful to survey,
And roars outrageous for the deftin'd prey.
The fons of light scarce unappall'd look down,
And nearer press heaven's everlasting throne.
Such is the scene; and one fhort moment's space
Concludes the hopes and fears of human race.
Proceed who dares !-I tremble as I write;
The whole creation fwims before my fight:
I fee, I fee, the Judge's frowning brow;
Say not, 'tis diftant; I behold it now;
I faint, my tardy blood forgets to flow,
My foul recoils at the ftupendous woe;
That woe, those pangs, which from the guilty breast, In thefe, or words like thefe, fhall be exprest. "Who burst the barriers of my peaceful grave? "Ah! cruel death, that would no longer fave, “But grudg'd me e’en that narrow dark abode, "And caft me out into the wrath of God;
"Where thrieks, the roaring flarne, the rattling chain, "And all the dreadful eloquence of pain,
"Our only fong; black fire's malignant light,
"The fole refreshment of the blafted fight.
"Muft all those powers, heaven gave me to supply
"My foul with pleasure, and bring-in my joy,
"Rife up in arms against me, join the foe,
"Sense, reason, memory, increase my woe?
"And shall my voice, ordain'd on hymns to dwell,
"Corrupt to groans, and blow the fires of hell?
"Oh! must I look with terror on my gain,
"And with exiftence only measure pain?
"What! no reprieve, no least indulgence given, 140 "No beam of hope, from any point of heaven! "Ah Mercy! Mercy! art thou dead above? "Is Love extinguish'd in the Source of Love? "Bold that I am, did heaven stoop down to hell? "Th' expiring Lord of life my ransom feal? "Have I not been industrious to provoke? "From his embraces obftinately broke? "Purfued, and panted for his mortal hate, "Earn'd my deftruction, labour'd out my "And dare I on extinguish'd Love exclaim?
"Take, take full vengeance, rouze the flackening flame; "Juft is my lot-but oh! must it transcend
"The reach of time, despair a distant end?
“With dreadful growth shoot forward, and arife,
"Where thought can't follow, and bold fancy dies! 155
"NEVER! where falls the foul at that dread found?
"Down an abyss how dark, and how profound?
"Down, down, (I ftill am falling, horrid pain!)
"Ten thousand thousand fathoms ftill remain;
"My plunge but still begun—And this for fin? 160
"Could I offend, if I had never been,
"But ftill increas'd the senseless happy mass,
"Flow'd in the ftream, or fhiver'd in the grass?
"Father of mercies! why from filent earth
"Didft thou awake, and curfe me into birth,
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