Ah! no -the fault was mine, I stand alone, Be thine the praise who plac'd me on the throne, The guilt, the folly, and the shame my own. Ev'n at my birth the fatal stain began, And growing vice pursu'd me into man: Too close I follow'd where inticement led, And in the pleasing ruin plung'd my head. How wretched is the man, how lost his mind, Whom pleasures soften, and whom passions blind! I should have met the foes with equal fires, And bravely combated my own desires; I should- —but 0; too soon I fell, for sin Had brib'd my heart, and made a friend within. To plead surprisal is a poor abuse, What can I say to palliate, or excuse? I broke thro' all, though conscience did her part, Amazing terrors in my bosom roll, And damp the rising vigour of my soul; Tis guilt, 'tis conscious guilt, that shakes my frame, I fear like Saul I have incurr'd thy hate, And as I fill his throne, should share his fate; Well I remember how th' infernal guest Tumultuous heav'd, and labor'd in his breast; Amaz'd I saw his dreadful eye-balls roll, Whilst one continued earthquake shook his soul; His frantic rage subsided as I play'd, And music's softer pow'rs the sprite obey'd. That potent harp which could the fiend com mand, Now drops as useless from its master's hand; Eternal torments in my bosom rage, My sharper griefs no music can assuage; Who now to distant climes for fame will roam, Speak, mighty GOD! and bid the suppliant live, Let my charm'd ears but hear the word-Forgive; My muse shall spread the joyful tidings round, And to remotest worlds convey the sound; Whilst other sinners shall obedient prove, And taught by me shall wonder at thy love: No more their minds ignobler fires shall warm, But looser pleasures want a pow'r to charm: My firm resolve shall their example be, To place their trust in virtue and in Thee. By other hands let the mute herd be slain, And on a thousand altars smoke in vain; These tears my better advocates shall be, No poor atoning man shall die for me; My penitence shall act a nobler part, I bring a broken and a contrite heart: But O! if stricter justice must be done, And relentless fate comes rolling on, I stand the mark, whatever is decreed, Be Israel safe, and let its monarch bleed: On me, on me thy utmost vengeance take, But spare my people for thy mercies' sake; O let Jerusalem to ages stand, my Build thou her walls, and spread her wide command! So shall thy name for ever be ador'd, And future worlds like me shall bless the LORD. GRONGAR HILL. DYER. SILENT Nymph, with curious eye! Draw the landscape bright and strong; Grongar, in whose mossy cells, With my hand beneath my head; |