1. Bless God my soul; thou, Lord alone,
Possessest empire without bounds:
With honour thou art crown'd, thy throne
Eternal Majesty surrounds.
2. With light thou dost thy self enrobe,
And glory for a garment take;
Heav'n's curtain stretch'd beyond the globe,
The canopy of state to make.
3. God builds on liquid air, and forms
His palace-chambers in the skies:
The clouds his chariots are, and storms
The swift-wing'd steeds with which he flies.
4. As bright as flame, as swift as wind
His ministers Heav'ns palace fill;
To have their sundry tasks assign'd,
All proud to serve their Sovereign's will.
5., 6. Earth on her center fix'd he set,
Her face with waters over spread;
Not proudest mountains dar'd as yet
To lift above the waves their head!
7. But when thy awful face appear'd,
Th' insulting waves dispers'd; they fled
When once thy thunder's voice they heard,
And by their haste confess'd their dread.
8. Thence up by secret tracts they creep,
And gushing from the mountain's side,
Thro' vallies travel to the deep;
Appointed to receive their tide.
9. There hast thou fix'd the ocean's mounds,
The threat'ning surges to repel:
That they no more o'erpass their bounds,
Nor to a second deluge swell.
PART II.
10. Yet, thence in smaller parties drawn,
The sea recovers her lost hills:
And starting springs from every lawn,
Surprize the vales with plenteous rills.
11. The fields tame beasts are thither led
Weary with labour, faint with drought,
And asses on wild mountains bred,
Have sense to find these currents out.
12. There shady trees from scorching beams,
Yield shelter to the feather'd throng:
They drink, and to the bounteous streams
Return the tribute of their song.
13. His rains from heav'n parch'd hills recruit,
That soon transmit the liquid store:
'Till earth is burthen'd with her fruit,
And nature's lap can hold no more.
14. Grass for our cattle to devour,
He makes the growth of every field:
Herbs, for man's use, of various pow'r,
That either food or physic yield.
15. With cluster'd grapes he crowns the vine
To cheer man's heart oppress'd with cares:
Gives oil that makes his face to shine.
And corn that wasted strength repairs.
PSALM CIV. imitated by THOMAS BLACKCLOCK.
Arise my soul! on wings seraphic rise!
And praise th' Almighty sov'reign of the skies!
In whom alone essential glory shines,
Which not the Heav'n of Heav'ns, nor boundless space confines!
When darkness rul'd with universal sway,
He spoke, and kindled up the blaze of day;
First fairest offspring of th' omnific word!
Which like a garment cloath'd it's sovereign lord.
He stretch'd the blue expanse, from pole to pole,
And spread circumfluent æther round the whole.
Of liquid air he bad the columns rise,
Which prop the starry concave of the skies.
Soon as he bids, impetuous whirlwinds fly,
To bear his sounding chariot thro' the sky:
Impetuous whirlwinds the command obey,
Sustain his flight, and sweep th' aerial way.
Fraught with his mandates from the realms on high,
Unnumber'd hosts of radiant heralds fly;
From orb to orb, with progress unconfin'd,
As lightn'ing swift, resistless as the wind.
His word in air this pondr'ous ball sustain'd.
"Be fixt, he said."--And fix'd the ball remain'd.
Heav'n, air, and sea, tho' all their stores combine.
Shake not its base, nor break the law divine.
At thy almighty voice, old ocean raves,
Wakes all his force, and gathers all his waves;
Nature lies mantled in a watry robe,
And shoreless ocean roils around the globe;
O'er highest hills, the higher surges rise,
Mix with the clouds, and leave the vaulted skies.
But when in thunder, the rebuke was giv'n,
That shook th' eternal firmament of heav'n,
The dread rebuke, the frighted waves obey,
They fled, confus'd, along th' appointed way,
Impetuous rushing to the place decreed,
Climb the steep hill, and sweep the humble mead:
And now reluctant in their bounds subside;
Th' eternal bounds restrain the raging tide:
Yet still tumultuous with incessant roar,
It shakes the caverns, and assaults the shore.
By him, from mountains, cloth'd in livid snow,
Thro' verdant vales, the mazy fountains flow.
Here the wild horse, unconscious of the rein,
That revels boundless, o'er the wide champaign,
Imbibes the silver stream, with heat opprest
To cool the fervour of his glowing breast.
Here verdant boughs adorn'd with summer's pride,
Spread their broad shadows o'er the silver tide:
While, gently perching on the leafy spray,
Each feather'd songster tunes his various lay:
And while thy praise, they symphonize around,
Creation ecchoes to the grateful sound.
Wide o'er the heav'ns the various bow he bends.
Its tincture brightens, and its arch extends:
At the glad sign, aërial conduits flow,
The hills relent, the meads rejoice below:
By genial fervour, and prolific rain,
Gay vegetation cloaths the fertile plain;
Nature profusely good, with bliss o'er-flows,
And still she's pregnant, tho' she still bestows:
Here verdant pastures, far extended lie,
And yield the grazing herd a rich supply!
Luxuriant waving in the wanton air,
Here golden grain rewards the peasant's care!
Here vines mature, in purple clusters glow,
And heav'n above, diffuses heav'n below!
Erect and tall, here mountain cedars rise,
High o'er the clouds, and emulate the skies!
Here the winged crowds, that skim the air,
with artful toil, their little dams prepare,
Here, hatch their young, and nurse their rising care!
Up the steep-hill ascends the nimble doe,
While timid conies scour the plains below;
Or in the pendent rocks elude the scenting foe.
He bade the silver majesty of night,
Revolve her circle, and increase her light.
But if one moment thou thy face should'st hide,
Thy glory clouded, or thy smiles denied,
Then widow'd nature veils her mournful eyes,
And vents her grief, in universal cries!
Then gloomy death, with all his meagre train;
Wide o'er the nations spreads his iron reign!
Sea, earth, and air, the bounteous ravage mourn,
And all their hosts to native dust return!
Again thy glorious quickning influence shed,
The glad creation rears its drooping head:
New rising forms, thy potent smiles obey,
And life re-kindles at the genial ray;
United thanks replenish'd nature pays,
And heaven and earth resound their Maker's praise.
When time shall in eternity be lost,
And hoary nature languish into dust,
Forever young, thy glories shall remain,
Vast as thy being, endless as thy reign!
Thou from the realms of everlasting day,
See'st all thy works, at one immense survey!
Pleas'd at one view, the whole to comprehend,
Part join'd to part, concurring to one end.
If thou to earth, but turn'st thy wrathful eyes,
Her basis trembles, and her offspring dies.
Thou smit'st the hills, and at th' almighty blow,
Their summits kindle, and their entrails glow.
While this immortal spark of heav'nly flame,
Distends my breast, and animates my frame,
To thee my ardent praises shall be born,
On the first breeze, that wakes the blushing morn:
The latest star shall hear the pleasing sound,
And nature, in full choir shall join around!
When full of thee, my soul excursive flies,
Thro' earth, air, ocean or thy regal skies,
From world, to world, new wonders still I find!
And all the Godhead bursts upon my mind!
When, wing'd with whirlwinds, vice shall take her flight,
To the wide bosom of eternal night,
To thee my soul shall endless praises pay;
Join! men and angels! join th' exalted day!
Assign'd a province to each rolling sphere,
And taught the sun to regulate the year.
At his command wide hov'ring o'er the plain,
Primæval night resumes her gloomy reign.
Then from their dens impatient of delay,
The savage monsters bend their speedy way,
Howl thro' the spacious waste and chase the frighted prey.
Here walks the shaggy monarch of the wood,
Taught from thy providence to ask his food:
To thee O Father! to thy bounteous skies,
He rears his main, and rolls his glaring eyes.
He roars, the desarts tremble wide around!
And repercusive hills repeat the sound.
Now purple gems, the eastern skies adorn,
And joyful nature hails th' opening morn;
The rovers conscious of approaching day,
Fly to their shelters, and forget their prey.
Laborious man, with moderate slumber blest,
Springs chearful to his toil, from downy rest;
Till grateful ev'ning with her silver train,
Bid labour cease, and ease the weary swain!
Hail, sovereign Goodness! All productive mind!
On all thy works, thyself inscribed we find!
How various all! how variously endow'd!
How great their number! and each part how good!
How perfect then must the great parent shine!
Who with one act of energy divine,
Laid the vast plan, and finish'd the design.
Where e'er the pleasing search my thoughts pursue,
Unbounded goodness opens to my view.
Nor does our world alone, its influence share;
Exhaustless bounty, and unwearied care,
Extend thro' all th' infinitude of space,
And circle nature with a kind embrace.
The wavy kingdoms of the deep below,
Thy power, thy wisdom, and thy goodness shew,
Here various beings without number stray,
Croud the profound, or on the surface play.
Leviathan here, the mightiest of the train,
Enormous! sails incumbent o'er the main.
All these thy watchful providence supplies;
To thee alone, they turn their waiting eyes.
For them thou open'st thy exhaustless store,
Till the capacious wish can grasp no more.
[Footnote A: Biograph. Brit. Art, Brady.]
* * * * *
GEORGE STEPNEY, Esq;
This poet was descended of the family of the Stepneys of Pindigrast in
Pembrokeshire, but born in Westminster in the year 1693. He received
the rudiments of his education in Westminster school, and after making
some progress in literature there, he was removed to Trinity College
in Cambridge, where he was cotemporary with Charles Montague, esq;
afterwards earl of Halifax; and being of the same college with him,
a very strict friendship was contracted between them. To this lucky
accident of being early known to Mr. Montague, was owing all the
preferment Mr. Stepney afterwards enjoyed; for he seems not to have
had parts sufficient to have risen to any distinction, without the
immediate patronage of so great a man, as the lord Hallifax. When
Stepney first set out in life, he was perhaps attached to the Tory
interest, for one of the first poems he wrote, was an Address to
king James the Second, on his Accession to the Throne. In this little
piece, in which there is as little poetry, he compares that monarch to
Hercules, but with what propriety let the reader judge. Soon after
the accession of James II. when Monmouth's rebellion broke out, the
university of Cambridge, to demonstrate their zeal for the King,
thought proper to burn the picture of that rash Prince, who had
formerly been their chancellor. Upon this occasion Stepney wrote some
good verses, in answer to this question;
----Sed quid
Turba Remi? sequitur fortunam, ut semper
et odit damnatos.
Upon the revolution he embraced another interest, and procured himself
to be nominated for several foreign embassies. In the year 1692 he
went to the elector of Brandenburgh's court in quality of envoy, and,
in the year following, to the Imperial court in the same character. In
1694 he was sent to the elector of Saxony, and two years after to the
electors of Mentz, Cologn, &c. and the congress at Francfort. He was
employed in several other embassies, and in the year 1706 Queen Anne
sent him envoy to the States General. He was very successful in his
negotiations, which occasioned his constant employment in the most
weighty affairs. At his leisure hours he composed several other pieces
of poetry besides those already mentioned; which are chiefly these,
An Epistle to the Earl of Hallifax, on his Majesty's
Voyage to Holland.
A Translation of the Eighth Satire of Juvenal.
To the Earl of Carlisle upon the Death of his
Son.
Some Imitations of Horace's Odes.
The Austrian Eagle.
The Nature of Dreams.
A Poem to the Memory of Queen Mary.
These performances are not very long, nor are the subjects upon
which they are written very considerable. It seems probable that the
eminence to which Stepney rose, must have been more owing to some
personal kindness lord Hallifax had for him, than to his merit as a
writer. In raising Stepney, his lordship might act as the friend
of the man, but not as a patron of the poet. Friendship, in many
respects, participates of the nature of love; it begins, we know
not how, it strengthens by imperceptible degrees, and grows into an
established firmness. Such might be the regard lord Hallifax had for
Stepney, but we may venture to assert, from his lordship's exquisite
taste in poetry, that he never could highly admire the pretty trifles
which compose the works of this author; and which are printed amongst
the works of the Minor Poets, published some years ago by Mr. Tonson
in two volumes 12mo.[A]
Our author died at Chelsea in the year 1707, and was buried in
Westminster-Abbey, where a fine monument is erected over him, with the
following inscription upon the pedestal;