JEREMIAH, CHAP. IV. PARAPHRASED, FROM VERSE 19.
A SCHOOL EXERCISE, IN DEC. 1777.
THE AUTHOR'S AGE FIFTEEN.
My heart will speak ;—it bursts the silent bands,
While the loud trumpet wakes the distant lands.
Heard ye that cry? Destruction stalks around,
And Death's dread footsteps shake th' affrighted
ground.
Still must that standard to my eyes appear?
Still must the trump strike horror in my ear?
Prompt to each evil act my people run,
But the strait paths of Truth and Goodness shun!
Shock'd by their crimes, the earth as chang'd, appear'd
A frightful void, whence nought but cries were heard:
Darkness and Horror fill'd the dismal space,
And the bright Sun hid his resplendent face.
I look'd, and lo! the mountains shook with dread; Each hill more lightly mov'd its trembling head: Struck with confusion at the awful scene,
The birds were fled; no living thing was seen.
I saw the soil, whence Plenty us'd to flow,
A wilderness; the earth a scene of woe.
Jehovah spoke: "Be desolate, ye lands!"
He said all Nature felt the dread commands;
Nor yet appeas'd the indignant wrath of God,
Still further must it feel his chast'ning rod.
The earth shall mourn, the heav'ns themselves shall lour,
And all creation groan beneath his power:
No longer in the city shall ye stay;
Struck by the sounds of war, with sore dismay
Ye shall to rocks and thickets bend your way;
And once so favour'd, once so happy race,
Who have enjoy'd your God's peculiar grace,
Say, foolish daughters, what is now your lot,
Lost and despoil'd, your former charms forgot!
Tho' bright with gold, and deck'd in crimson vest,
Emeralds and rubies sparkling on your breast,
Tho' you your faded face with painting stain,
No fond admirer shall these arts regain;
But those frail friends, whom once you thought sincere, Shall now your greatest enemies appear!
For suddenly I heard a shrieking cry,
The voice of anguish piercing thro' the sky;
Like her's, who bringeth forth her first-born son,
'Twas Zion's daughter-Thus the cry begun :
"O'erwhelm'd with sorrows, and with tortures torn,
"Ah! woe is me! when shall I cease to mourn ?
"My soul is wearied; my distracted mind
"Can midst my former friends no refuge find!"
ISAIAH, CHAP. LIII. PARAPHRASED.
A SCHOOL EXERCISE, AT EASTER, 1778.
HARK! how the Bard, whose intellectual eye
Pierc'd the dark cloud that veils futurity,
Beheld from far the light of Israel shine,
And hail'd the dawnings of the day divine!
Unlike the Saviour, the proud Jews invoke
O'er prostrate nations to extend his yoke;
By fire and sword to make his mission known,
And wade through seas of blood to gain a throne:
O'er conquer'd hearts his gentle reign extends,
And Death himself beneath his empire bends.
Hail, Prince of Peace! immortal Jesus, hail!
"Twas thus Isaiah told the wond'rous tale :-
"Stiff-neck'd and proud, from you these truths con
ceal'd,
To whom hath God his own right arm reveal'd?
Not as the lofty cedar shall he rise,
Whose tow'ring head seems lifted to the skies;
But like some healing plant, whose lowly root
Shoots forth no flowers, and bears no tempting fruit.
The balmy juice, that flows in every vein,
From this proud race no fond regard shall gain.
Ye with contempt shall see your Saviour mourn,
Despis'd, rejected, and with sorrows torn;
E'en ye, whose griefs, whose wounds he mildly bears,
With sneers misconstrue all his gen'rous cares:
Heal'd by his stripes (still, still he bleeds in vain,)
Ye mock his anguish, and deride his pain.
For ah! like wand'ring sheep ye're gone astray,
Vain and presumptuous from the narrow way.
He comes to lead you back with gentle hand
To Wisdom's paths, and Reason's mild command,
To soothe the wretch, to heal the wounded heart,
And life and gladness to the sick impart;
And, see! for this, before my wond'ring eyes,
What unexpected scenes of horror rise!
O see, for all the blessings he dispens'd,
A thankless race with bloody rage incens'd:
Meek and resign'd the Holy Lamb is led,
Thorns plac'd in mockery round his hallow'd head,
Murder'd by Sinners whom he died to save,
The Lord of Life descends into the grave;
Yet, with the rich in death he shall remain,
Whose holy days no fraud nor mischief stain!
Mild, uncomplaining, he his life pours forth,
To give our hopes of Heav'n a second birth;
Hence for his sake shall he behold his seed
To length of life and golden days decreed!
Hence Pleasure prosper in his fostering hand,
And Peace and Joy spring up at his command!"
SOFT is the cooling breeze, when eve succeeds
In mild dominion, to the rule of day ;
As to the chief, in sanguine-vested deeds,
Advances some wise monarch's happy sway:
Full many a wretch, beneath the warrior bleeds- 5
So droop the flowers before the sunny ray,
Whose fading bloom the gentle eve revives,
Cheer'd by the peaceful Prince, 'tis thus a kingdom
thrives.
Soft is the breeze that with the hawthorn strives,
And bears the fragrance from its crimson head; 10
* Sub initium anni 1014, vel paulo ante, Brienus Borons Rex, cum plurimis Hiberniæ, Regulis egit, ut conjunctis viribus Sitricum omnesque Ostmannos ex Hibernia expellere conarentur.Magnis Copiis sic utrinque coactis concurritur tandem Clontarfæ prope Dublinium, Aprilis 23, ubi post longam acerrimamque, pugnam victoria cessit Brieno, qui tamen ex vulnere quod in prælio acceperat mortifero mox expiravit.
Antiquitates Hiberniæ, JACOBI Warri.
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