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And fugitive in vain. The fylvan scene
Migrates uplifted, and with all its foil
Alighting in far diftant fields, finds out
A new poffeffor, and furvives the change.
Ocean has caught the frenzy, and upwrought
To an enormous and o'erbearing height,
Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice

Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore
Refistless. Never fuch a fudden flood,

Upridged fo high, and fent on fuch a charge,
Poffefs'd an inland fcene. Where now the throng
That prefs'd the beach and hafty to depart

Look'd to the fea for fafety? They are gone,
Gone with the refluent wave into the deep,
A prince with half his people. Ancient tow'rs,
And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes
Where beauty oft and letter'd worth consume
Life in the unproductive fhades of death,
Fall prone; the pale inhabitants come forth,
And happy in their unforeseen release

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From all the rigors of restraint, enjoy

The terrors of the day that sets them free.

Who then that has thee, would not hold thee fast
Freedom! whom they that lose thee, so regret,
That ev'n a judgment making way for thee,
Seems in their eyes, a mercy, for thy fake.

Such evil fin hath wrought; and such a flame
Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth,
And in the furious inquest that it makes
On God's behalf, lays wafte his faireft works.
The

very elements, though each be meant

The minifter of man, to ferve his wants,

Confpire against him. With his breath, he draws

A plague into his blood. And cannot use
Life's neceffary means, but he must die.

Storms rife t' o'erwhelm him: or if ftormy winds.

Rife not, the waters of the deep shall rife,

And needing none affiftance of the ftorm,

Shall roll themselves afhore, and reach him there.

The

The earth fhall shake him out of all his holds,

Or make his houfe his grave. Nor fo content,
Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood,
And drown him in her dry and dusty gulphs.

What then-were they the wicked above all,
And we the righteous, whose fast-anchor'd isle

Moved not, while their's was rock'd like a light skiff,
The sport of ev'ry wave? No: none are clear,
And none than we more guilty. But where all
Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts
Of wrath obnoxious, God may chuse his mark.
May punish, if he pleafe, the lefs, to warn
The more malignant. If he fpar'd not them,
Tremble and be amazed at thine escape

Far guiltier England, left he fpare not thee.

Happy the man who fees a God employed In all the good and ill that checquer life! Refolving all events with their effects

And manifold refults, into the will

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And arbitration wife of the Supreme.

Did not his eye rule all things, and intend
The leaft of our concerns (fince from the leaft
The greatest oft originate) could chance

Find place in his dominion, or difpofe

One lawless particle to thwart his plan,
Then God might be furprized, and unforeseen
Contingence might alarm him, and disturb
The smooth and equal course of his affairs.
This truth, philofophy, though eagle-eyed
In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks,
And having found his inftrument, forgets
Or difregards, or more prefumptuous still
Denies the pow'r that wields it. God proclaims
His hot difpleasure against foolish men

That live an atheist life. Involves the heav'n
In tempefts, quits his grafp upon the winds

And gives them all their fury. Bids a plague
Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin,

And putrify the breath of blooming health.

He

He calls for famine, and the meagre fiend

Blows mildew from between his fhrivel'd lips,

And taints the golden ear. He fprings his mines,
And defolates à nation at a blast.

Forth steps the fpruce philofopher, and tells
Of homogeneal and difcordant fprings

And principles; of causes how they work
By neceffary laws their fure effects,

Of action and re-action. He has found
The fource of the disease that nature feels,
And bids the world take heart and banish fear.
Thou fool! will thy difcov'ry of the cause
Sufpend th' effect or heal it? Has not God
Still wrought by means fince first he made the world,
And did he not of old employ his means

To drown it? What is his creation lefs

Than a capacious refervoir of means

Form'd for his use, and ready at his will?

Go, dress thine eyes with eye-falve, ask of him,

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