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His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,

And breathe it to the soul.

To him, ye graceful cedars, bow;
Ye tow'ring mountains, bending low,

Your great Creator own;
Tell, when affrighted nature shook,
How Sinai kindled at his look,

And trembled at his frown.

Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale,
Ye insects flutt'ring on the gale,

In mutual concourse rise ;
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom,
And wast its spoils, a sweet perfume,

In incense to the skies.

Wake, all ye mountain tribes, and sing,
Ye plumy warblers of the spring,

Harmonious anthems raise
To Him who shap'd your finer mould,
Who tipp'd your glittering wings with gold,

And tun'd your voice to praise.

Let man, by nobler passions sway'd,
The feeling heart, the judging head,

In heav'nly praise employ;
Spread his tremendous name around,
Till heav'n's broad arch rings back the sound,

The general burst of joy.

Ye whom the charms of grandeur please,
Nurs'd on the downy lap of ease,

Fall prostrate at his throne :

Ye princes, rulers, all adore ;
Praise him, ye kings, who makes your pow'r

An image of his own.

Ye fair, by nature form'd to move,
O praise th' eternal source of love,

With youth's enliv'ning fire :
Let age take up the tuneful lay,
Sigh his bless'd name-then soar away,

And ask an angel's lyre.

OGILVIE.

THE DOOM OF

THE VAIN BOASTER.

Perch'd on a rock's ethereal brow,

An Eagle with imperial pride,

Surveyed the expansive plain below,

And, peering down the rugged side,

Exultingly the distance eyed Which bore him from the vulgar crowd;

And thus, (the words by verse supplied) Soliloquising, spoke aloud :

“Behold where yonder grovelling crew,

“ Turmoiling in the rounds of care, “ In widely-gazing wonder view

My lone retreat thus high in air,

“ And vainly wish with me to share « The ambient regions of the sky;

« With me, the wrath of heaven to dare ; « With me, the winds and storms defy.

« With me they cannot even gaze

“ Upon the glorious noon-day sun; “Which checks by his all-powerful blaze “ The weak attempt ere well begun ;

Experience-taught, they rather shun Than court his soul-reviving beam;

“ Whilst I, enraptured, thither run, And plume my pinions 'midst its stream.

« Creation's lord, high-vaunting man,

“ With all the beasts of work or chase, • Moving in so confined a space I sure may call a reptile race:

“ And even the feathered tribes give place “ To me, the sovereign of the sky;

“ Emulous in vain they people space “ And but through midway regions fly.

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