The Poetical Works of Edward Young | Page 9

they come forth, and keep
Short watch on
earth, and then lie down to sleep.
Pain is for man; and oh! how vast a
pain
For crimes, which made the Godhead bleed in vain!
Annull'd
his groans, as far as in them lay,
And flung his agonies, and death,
away!
As our dire punishment for ever strong,
Our constitution too
for ever young,
Curs'd with returns of vigour, still the same,

Powerful to bear, and satisfy the flame:
Still to be caught, and still to
be pursu'd!
To perish still, and still to be renew'd!
"And this, my
help! my God! at thy decree?
Nature is chang'd, and hell should
succour me.
And canst thou then look down from perfect bliss,
And
see me plunging in the dark abyss?
Calling thee Father, in a sea of
fire?
Or pouring blasphemies at thy desire?
With mortals' anguish
wilt thou raise thy name,
And by my pangs omnipotence proclaim?

"Thou, who canst toss the planets to and fro,
Contract not thy great
vengeance to my woe;
Crush worlds; in hotter flames fall'n angels lay;

On me Almighty wrath is cast away.
Call back thy thunders, Lord,
hold in thy rage,
Nor with a speck of wretchedness engage:
Forget
me quite, nor stoop a worm to blame;
But lose me in the greatness of
thy name.
Thou art all love, all mercy, all divine,
And shall I make
these glories cease to shine?
Shall sinful man grow great by his
offence,
And from its course turn back Omnipotence?
"Forbid it!
and oh! grant, great God, at least
This one, this slender, almost no
request;
When I have wept a thousand lives away,
When torment is
grown weary of its prey,
When I have rav'd ten thousand years in fire,

Ten thousand thousand, let me then expire."
Deep anguish! but too
late; the hopeless soul,
Bound to the bottom of the burning pool,

Though loth, and ever loud blaspheming, owns
He's justly doom'd to
pour eternal groans;
Enclos'd with horrors, and transfix'd with pain,

Rolling in vengeance, struggling with his chain:
To talk to fiery
tempests; to implore
The raging flame to give its burnings o'er;
To
toss, to writhe, to pant beneath his load,
And bear the weight of an

offended God.
The favour'd of their Judge, in triumph move
To
take possession of their thrones above;
Satan's accurs'd desertion to
supply,
And fill the vacant stations of the sky;
Again to kindle
long-extinguish'd rays,
And with new lights dilate the heavenly blaze;

To crop the roses of immortal youth,
And drink the fountain-head
of sacred truth
To swim in seas of bliss, to strike the string,
And lift
the voice to their Almighty King;
To lose eternity in grateful lays,

And fill heaven's wide circumference with praise.
But I attempt the
wondrous height in vain,
And leave unfinish'd the too lofty strain:

What boldly I begin, let others end;
My strength exhausted, fainting I
descend,
And choose a less, but no ignoble, theme,
Dissolving
elements, and worlds, in flame.
The fatal period, the great hour, is
come,
And nature shrinks at her approaching doom;
Loud peals of
thunder give the sign, and all
Heaven's terrors in array surround the
ball;
Sharp lightnings with the meteor's blaze conspire,
And, darted
downward, set the world on fire;
Black rising clouds the thicken'd
ether choke,
And spiry flames dart through the rolling smoke,
With
keen vibrations cut the sullen night,
And strike the darken'd sky with
dreadful light;
From heaven's four regions, with immortal force,

Angels drive on the wind's impetuous course,
T' enrage the flame: It
spreads, it soars on high,
Swells in the storm, and billows through the
sky:
Here winding pyramids of fire ascend,
Cities and deserts in
one ruin blend;
Here blazing volumes wafted, overwhelm
The
spacious face of a far distant realm;
There, undermin'd, down rush
eternal hills,
The neighb'ring vales the vast destruction fills.
Hear'st
thou that dreadful crack? that sound which broke Like peals of thunder,
and the centre shook?

What wonders must that groan of nature tell?

Olympus there, and mightier Atlas, fell;
Which seem'd above the
reach of fate to stand,
A tow'ring monument of God's right hand;

Now dust and smoke, whose brow, so lately, spread
O'er shelter'd
countries its diffusive shade.
Show me that celebrated spot, where all

The various rulers of the sever'd ball
Have humbly sought wealth,
honour, and redress,
That land which heaven seem'd diligent to bless,


Once call'd Britannia: can her glories end?
And can't surrounding
seas her realms defend?
Alas! in flames behold surrounding seas!

Like oil, their waters but augment the blaze.
Some angel say, where
ran proud Asia's bound?
Or where with fruits was fair Europa
crown'd?
Where stretch'd waste Lybia? Where did India's shore

Sparkle in diamonds, and her golden ore?
Each lost in each, their
mingling kingdoms glow,
And all dissolv'd, one fiery deluge flow:

Thus earth's contending monarchies are join'd,
And a full period of
ambition find.
And now whate'er or swims, or walks, or flies,

Inhabitants of sea, or earth, or skies;
All on whom Adam's wisdom
fix'd a name,
All plunge, and perish in the conquering flame.
This
globe alone would but defraud the fire,
Starve its devouring rage: the
flakes aspire,
And catch the clouds, and make the heavens their prey;

The sun, the moon, the stars, all melt away;
All, all is lost; no
monument, no sign,
Where once so proudly blaz'd the gay machine.

So bubbles on the foaming