The Poetical Works of Edward Young | Page 6

now the crimson curtains open fly;?Lo! far within, and far above all height,?Where heaven's great Sov'reign reigns in worlds of light, Whence nature he informs, and with one ray?Shot from his eye, does all her works survey,?Creates, supports, confounds! Where time, and place,?Matter, and form, and fortune, life, and grace,?Wait humbly at the footstool of their God,?And move obedient at his awful nod;?Whence he beholds us vagrant emmets crawl?At random on this air-suspended ball?(Speck of creation): if he pour one breath,?The bubble breaks, and 'tis eternal death.?Thence issuing I behold (but mortal sight?Sustains not such a rushing sea of light!)?I see, on an empyreal flying throne?Sublimely rais'd, heaven's everlasting Son;?Crown'd with that majesty which form'd the world,?And the grand rebel flaming downward hurl'd.?Virtue, dominion, praise, omnipotence,?Support the train of their triumphant prince.?A zone, beyond the thought of angels bright,?Around him, like the zodiac, winds its light.?Night shades the solemn arches of his brows,?And in his cheek the purple morning glows.?Where'er serene, he turns propitious eyes,?Or we expect, or find, a paradise:?But if resentment reddens their mild beams,?The Eden kindles, and the world's in flames.?On one hand, knowledge shines in purest light;?On one, the sword of justice fiercely bright.?Now bend the knee in sport, present the reed;?Now tell the scourg'd impostor he shall bleed!?Thus glorious thro' the courts of heav'n, the source?Of life and death eternal bends his course;?Loud thunders round him roll, and lightnings play;?Th' angelic host is rang'd in bright array:?Some touch the string, some strike the sounding shell,?And mingling voices in rich concert swell;?Voices seraphic; blest with such a strain,?Could Satan hear, he were a god again.?Triumphant King of Glory! Soul of bliss!?What a stupendous turn of fate is this!?O! whither art thou rais'd above the scorn?And indigence of him in Bethlem born;?A needless, helpless, unaccounted guest,?And but a second to the fodder'd beast!?How chang'd from him, who, meekly prostrate laid,?Vouchsaf'd to wash the feet himself had made!?From him who was betray'd, forsook, denied,?Wept, languish'd, pray'd, bled, thirsted, groan'd, and died; Hung pierc'd and bare, insulted by the foe,?All heaven in tears above, earth unconcern'd below!?And was't enough to bid the sun retire??Why did not nature at thy groan expire??I see, I hear, I feel, the pangs divine;?The world is vanish'd,--I am wholly thine.?Mistaken Caiaphas! Ah! which blasphem'd;?Thou, or thy pris'ner? which shall be condemn'd??Well might'st thou rend thy garments, well exclaim;?Deep are the horrors of eternal flame!?But God is good! 'Tis wondrous all! Ev'n he?Thou gav'st to death, shame, torture, died for thee.?Now the descending triumph stops its flight?From earth full twice a planetary height.?There all the clouds condens'd, two columns raise?Distinct with orient veins, and golden blaze.?One fix'd on earth, and one in sea, and round?Its ample foot the swelling billows sound.?These an immeasurable arch support,?The grand tribunal of this awful court.?Sheets of bright azure, from the purest sky,?Stream from the crystal arch, and round the columns fly.?Death, wrapt in chains, low at the basis lies,?And on the point of his own arrow dies.?Here high enthron'd th' eternal Judge is plac'd,?With all the grandeur of his godhead grac'd;?Stars on his robes in beauteous order meet,?And the sun burns beneath his awful feet.?Now an archangel eminently bright,?From off his silver staff of wondrous height,?Unfurls the Christian flag, which waving flies,?And shuts and opens more than half the skies:?The cross so strong a red, it sheds a stain,?Where'er it floats, on earth, and air, and main;?Flushes the hill, and sets on fire the wood,?And turns the deep-dy'd ocean, into blood.?Oh formidable glory! dreadful bright!?Refulgent torture to the guilty sight.?Ah turn, unwary muse, nor dare reveal?What horrid thoughts with the polluted dwell.?Say not, (to make the sun shrink in his beam,)?Dare not affirm, they wish it all a dream;?With, or their souls may with their limbs decay,?Or God be spoil'd of his eternal sway.?But rather, if thou know'st the means, unfold?How they with transport might the scene behold.?Ah how! but by repentance, by a mind?Quick, and severe its own offence to find??By tears, and groans, and never-ceasing care,?And all the pious violence of prayer??Thus then, with fervency till now unknown,?I cast my heart before th' eternal throne,?In this great temple, which the skies surround,?For homage to its lord, a narrow bound.?"O thou! whose balance does the mountains weigh,?Whose will the wild tumultuous seas obey,?Whose breath can turn these watery worlds to flame,?That flame to tempest, and that tempest tame;?Earth's meanest son, all trembling, prostrate falls,?And on the boundless of thy goodness calls.?"Oh! give the winds all past offence to sweep,?To scatter wide, or bury in the deep:?Thy power, my weakness, may I ever see,?And wholly dedicate my soul to thee:?Reign o'er my will; my passions ebb and flow?At thy command, nor human motive know!?If anger boil, let anger be my praise,?And sin the graceful indignation raise.?My love be warm