PART OF THE
FOURTEENTH CHAPTER OF ISAIAH PARAPHRASE D.
NOW has th' Almighty Father, seated high
In ambient glories from th' eternal throne
Vouchsaf'd compaffion; and th' afflictive power
Has broke, whose iron fceptre long had bruis'd
The groaning nations. Now returning Peace,
Dove-ey'd, and rob'd in white, the blissful land
Deigns to re-vifit; whilft beneath her steps
The foil, with civil slaughter oft' manur'd,
Pours forth abundant olives. Their high tops
The cedars wave, exulting o'er thy fall,
Whose steel from the tall monarch of the grove
Sever'd the regal honours, and up tore
The scions blooming in the parent shade.
When vehicled in flame, thou slow didst pass
Prone through the gates of night, the dreary realms
With loud acclaim receiv'd thee. Tyrants old
(Gigantic forms, with human blood besmear'd)
Rofe from their thrones; for thrones they still poffefs,
Their penance and their guilt: Art thou, they cry,
O emulous of our crimes, here doom'd to reign
Associate of our woe? Nor com'ft thou girt
With livery'd flaves, or bands of warrior-knights,
Which erft before thee stood, a flattering crowd,
Obfervant of thy brow; nor hireling quires
Attempering to the harp their warbled airs,
Thy panegyric chaunt; but, hush'd in death,
Like us thou ly'st unwept; a corse obscene
With duft, and preying worms, bare and defpoil'd
Of ill-got pomp. We hail thee our compeer!
How art thou with diminish'd glory fall'n
From thy proud zenith, swift as meteors glide
Aflope a fummer-eve! Of all the stars
Titled the first and fairest, thou didst hope
To share divinity, or haply more,
Elated as fupreme when o'er the North
Thy bloody banners stream'd, to rightful kings
Portending ruinous downfal; wondrous low,
Opprobrious and detested art thou thrown,
Difrob'd of all thy splendors: round thee stand
The swarming populace, and with fix'd regard
Eyeing thee pale and breathless, spend their rage
In taunting speech, and jovial ask their friends,
Is this The Mighty, whose imperious yoke
We bore reluctant, who to defert wilds
And haunts of savages transform'd the marts,
And capital cities raz'd, pronouncing thrall
Or exile on the peerage? How becalm'd
The tyrant lies, whose nostrils us'd to breathe
Tempests of wrath, and shook establish'd thrones!
In folemn state the bones of pious kings,
Gather'd to their great fires, are safe repos'd
Beneath the weeping vault: but thou, a branch
Blasted and curs'd by heaven, to dogs and fowls
Art doom'd a banquet; mingling some remains
With criminals unabsolv'd; on all thy race
Tranfmitting guilt and vengeance. From thy domes
Thy children skulk erroneous and forlorn,
Fearing perdition, and for mercy fue
With eyes uplift, and tearful. From thy feed
The fceptre heaven refumes, by thee ufurp'd
By guile and force, and sway'd with lawless rage.
HE Gaul, intent on universal fway,
Sees his own fubjects with constraint obey;
And they who most his rifing beams ador'd,
Weep in their chains, and wish another lord.
But, if the Muse not uninspir'd prefage,
Justice shall triumph o'er oppressive rage :
His power shall be reclaim'd to rightful laws,
And all, like Savoy, shall defert his caufe.
So when to distant vales an eagle steers,
His fierceness not disarm'd by length of years;
From his stretch'd wing he sees the feathers fly,
Which bore him to his empire of the sky.
Unlike, great Queen, thy steps to deathless fame;
O beft, O greatest of thy royal name!
Thy Britons, fam'd forarts, in battle brave,
Have nothing now to cenfure, or to crave:
Ev'n Vice and factious Zeal are held in awe,
Thy court a temple, and thy life a law.
When edg'd with terrors, by thy vengeful hand
The fword is drawn to gore a guilty land;
Thy mercy cures the wound thy justice gave,
For 'tis thy lov'd prerogative to save:
And Victory, to grace thy triumph, brings
Palms in her hand, with healing in her wings.
But as mild heaven on Eden's op'ning gems
Beftow'd the balmiest dews, and brightest beams :
So, whilst remotest climes thy influence share,
Britain's the darling object of thy care :
By thy wife councils, and refistless might,
Abroad we conquer, and at home unite:
Before thou bid'st the distant battles cease,
Thy piety cements domeftic peace;
Impatient of delay to fix the state,
Thy dove brings olive ere the waves abate.
Hail, happy fister-lands! for ever prove
Rivals alone in loyalty and love;
Kindled from heaven, be your aufpicious flame
As lasting, and as bright, as Anna's fame!
And thou, fair northern nymphs, partake our toil,
With us divide the danger, and the fpoil:
When thy brave fons, the friends of Mars avow'd,
In steel around our Albion standards crowd;
What wonders in the war shall now be shown
By her, who fingle shook the Gallic throne!
The day draws nigh, in which the warrior-queen
Shall wave her union-crosses o'er the Seine :
Rouz'd with heroic warmth unfelt before,
Her lions with redoubled fury roar;
And urging on to fame, with joy behold
The woody walks in which they rang'd of old.
O Louis, long the terror of thy arms
Has aw'd the continent with dire alarms;
Exulting in thy pride, with hope to fee
Empires and states derive their power from thee;
From Britain's equal hand the scale to wreft,
And reign without a rival o'er the weft:
But now the laurels, by thy rapine torn
From Belgiam groves, in early triumphs borne;'
Wither'd and leafless in thy winter stand,
Expos'd a prey to every hoftile hand :
By strange extremes of destiny decreed
To flourish, and to fall with equal speed.
So the young gourd, around the prophet's head
With fwift encrease her fragrant honours spread;
Beneath the growing shade fecure he fate,
To fee the towers of Ninus bow to fate:
But, curs'd by heaven, the greens began to fade,
And, fickening, fudden as they rofe, decay'd.
UPID refign'd to Sylvia's care
His bow, and quiver stor'd with darts;
Commiffioning the matchless fair,
To fill his fhrine with bleeding hearts.
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