Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 77

Joseph Addison. 1672-1719

433. Hymn

THE s.p.a.cious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a s.h.i.+ning frame, Their great Original proclaim.

Th' unwearied Sun from day to day Does his Creator's power display; And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail, The Moon takes up the wondrous tale; And nightly to the listening Earth Repeats the story of her birth: Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball; What though nor real voice nor sound Amidst their radiant orbs be found?

In Reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice; For ever singing as they s.h.i.+ne, 'The Hand that made us is divine.'

Isaac Watts. 1674-1748

434. The Day of Judgement

WHEN the fierce North-wind with his airy forces Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury; And the red lightning with a storm of hail comes Rus.h.i.+ng amain down;

How the poor sailors stand amazed and tremble, While the hoa.r.s.e thunder, like a b.l.o.o.d.y trumpet, Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters Quick to devour them.

Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder (If things eternal may be like these earthly), Such the dire terror when the great Archangel Shakes the creation;

Tears the strong pillars of the vault of Heaven, Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes, Sees the graves open, and the bones arising, Flames all around them.

Hark, the shrill outcries of the guilty wretches!

Lively bright horror and amazing anguish Stare thro' their eyelids, while the living worm lies Gnawing within them.

Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings, And the smart twinges, when the eye beholds the Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance Rolling afore him.

Hopeless immortals! how they scream and s.h.i.+ver, While devils push them to the pit wide-yawning Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong Down to the centre!

Stop here, my fancy: (all away, ye horrid Doleful ideas!) come, arise to Jesus, How He sits G.o.d-like! and the saints around Him Throned, yet adoring!

O may I sit there when He comes triumphant, Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory, While our Hosannas all along the pa.s.sage Shout the Redeemer.

Isaac Watts. 1674-1748

435. A Cradle Hymn

HUs.h.!.+ my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy angels guard thy bed!

Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment: All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of G.o.d could be, When from heaven He descended And became a child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coa.r.s.e and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.

Blessed babe! what glorious features-- Spotless fair, divinely bright!

Must He dwell with brutal creatures?

How could angels bear the sight?

Was there nothing but a manger Cursed sinners could afford To receive the heavenly stranger?

Did they thus affront their Lord?

Soft, my child: I did not chide thee, Though my song might sound too hard; 'Tis thy mother sits beside thee, And her arms shall be thy guard.

Yet to read the shameful story How the Jews abused their King, How they served the Lord of Glory, Makes me angry while I sing.

See the kinder shepherds round Him, Telling wonders from the sky!

Where they sought Him, there they found Him, With His Virgin mother by.

See the lovely babe a-dressing; Lovely infant, how He smiled!

When He wept, the mother's blessing Soothed and hush'd the holy child.

Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Where the horned oxen fed: Peace, my darling; here 's no danger, Here 's no ox anear thy bed.

'Twas to save thee, child, from dying, Save my dear from burning flame, Bitter groans and endless crying, That thy blest Redeemer came.

May'st thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days; Then go dwell for ever near Him, See His face, and sing His praise!

Thomas Parnell. 1670-1718

436. Song

WHEN thy beauty appears In its graces and airs All bright as an angel new dropp'd from the sky, At distance I gaze and am awed by my fears: So strangely you dazzle my eye!

But when without art Your kind thoughts you impart, When your love runs in blushes through every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart, Then I know you're a woman again.

There 's a pa.s.sion and pride In our s.e.x (she replied), And thus, might I gratify both, I would do: Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But still be a woman to you.

Allan Ramsay. 1686-1758

437. Peggy

MY Peggy is a young thing, Just enter'd in her teens Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay; My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wawking of the fauld.

My Peggy speaks sae sweetly Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair of a' that's rare; My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld, But she gars a' my spirits glow At wawking of the fauld.

My Peggy smiles sae kindly Whene'er I whisper love, That I look down on a' the town, That I look down upon a crown; My Peggy smiles sae kindly, It makes me blyth and bauld, And naething gi'es me sic delight As wawking of the fauld.

My Peggy sings sae saftly When on my pipe I play, By a' the rest it is confest, By a' the rest, that she sings best; My Peggy sings sae saftly, And in her sangs are tauld With innocence the wale of sense, At wawking of the fauld.

wawking] watching. lave] rest. wale] choice, best.