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Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,
And send'st him shivering in thy playful spray
And howling to his gods, where haply lies.
His petty hope in some near port or bay,
And dashest him again to earth:there let him lay.

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble in their capitals,
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee

Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts:—not so thou,
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play-
Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow-
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time,
Calm or convuls'd-in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime-
The image of eternity—the throne
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, a. lone!

BYRON.

THE CREATION

REQUIRED TO PRAISE ITS AUTHOR.

Begin my soul, th' exalted lay!
Let each enraptur'd thought obey,

And praise th’ Almighty's name:
Lo! heav'n and earth, and seas and skies,
In one melodious concert rise,

To swell th' inspiring theme.

Ye fields of light, celestial plains,
Where gay transporting beauty reigns,

Ye scenes divinely fair! Your Maker's wond'rous pow'r proclaim, Tell how he form'd your shining frame, And breath'd the fluid air.

Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound !
While all the adoring thrones around,

His boundless mercy sing:
Let every list’ning saint above
Wake all the tuneful soul of love,

And touch the sweetest string.

Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir;
Thou dazzling orb of liquid fire,

The mighty chorus aid:
Soon as gray evening gilds the plain,
Thou, moon, protract the melting strain,

And praise him in the shade.

Thou heav'n of heav'ns, his vast abode ; Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God,

Who call'd yon worlds from night : “ Ye shades dispel !"—th' Eternal said; At once th' involving darkness fled,

And nature sprung to light.

Whate'er a blooming world contains,
That wings the air, that skims the plains,

United praise bestow:
Ye dragons sound his awful name
To heav'n aloud; and roar acclaim,

Ye swelling deeps below:

Let ev'ry element rejoice;
Ye thunders burst with awful voice

To Him who bids you roll:

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