Again, the strong-nerv'd Woodman tumbles

: down

The verdant pride of lofty Lebanon.—

In heavenly records I, exulting, trace

The alter'd fortunes of thy rescued race;
In mental prospect, lost in wonder, see
Thy doom revers❜d-thy glorious destiny!

Then, to his Father's tent-in proud array

Unconscious of his fate,-he sped his eager way.

Exulting loud-I come (he cries)

With conquest crown'd, and deathless fame!

Behold!-(and show'd the glitt'ring prize)

My glory-and the Latian shame!

These arms I reft from off the vanquish'd Foe

The meed of virtuous strife-and many a well

fought blow.

He ceas'd-Ah no! (with stern rebuke

The Chief replies, and brow severe,

While Justice arm'd his stedfast look,

And check'd the fond parental tear,)

No-not the Father spares the forfeit Son!

Offended Justice cries-and what she wills, be

done.

The Pride and Pomp of war are vain:

Bound to the stake the Conqueror dies!

Like Victim at the Altar slain

To Justice stern a sacrifice

With horror mute the gazing Romans stand;

Yet-while they mourn the Son, revere the

Sire's command.

COME Hope!-celestial Cherub come!

Whose influence can unclose the tomb,

And wing the Christian's flight:

Corroding Anguish-sleepless Care

Astounded fly, and dumb Despair

And sicken at thy sight!

Thy ray can pierce e'en Dungeons drear:

"Tis thine the sons of guilt to cheer,

In doleful durance pent:

At thy command distorted pain

Is mute;-and Envy's snaky train

And moody Discontent.