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The news immediate to her mother brought,
While, pierc'd with anxious thought, she pin'd away
The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate!

Amaz'd, and scarce believing what she heard,
Joy seiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam
Of setting life shone on her ev'ning hours,
Not less enraptur'd than the happy pair;
Who flourish'd long in tender bliss, and rear'd
A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves,
And good, the grace of all the country round.



GREAT GOD! with conscious blushes, lo, I come

To cry for pardon, or receive my doom:
But O, I die when I thy, anger meet,
Prostrate I lay my body at thy feet.

How can I dare to sue for a reprieve?
Must I still sin, and must my God forgive?

Thy justice will not let thy mercy flow,

Strike then, O strike, and give the deadly blow. Do I still live? and do I live to prove

The inexhausted tokens of thy love?

This unexampled goodness wounds me more
Than ev❜n the wrath I merited before.

O I am all a blot, the foulest shame

Has stain'd my sceptre, and disgrac'd my name: A name which once I could with honour boast, -the father of the people's lost.

But now
Though in the secret paths of sin I trod,
Yet do not quite forsake me, O my God!
'Tis thou alone canst ease me of my pain,
Thy healing hand can wash out ev'ry stain,
Can purge my mind, and make the leper clean..
Though darkly thy mysterious prophet spoke,
Whilst from his lips the fatal message broke;
Fix'd and amaz'd, I stood confounded whole,
Too soon his dreadful meaning reach'd my soul:
Thou art the Man, has fix'd a deadly smart,
Thou art the Man, lies throbbing at my heart.
I am whate'er thy anger can express,
Nor can my sorrow make my follies less.

Rais'd and exalted to the first degree, Thy heav'nly will had made the monarch free > Indulg'd in ease, I rul'd without controul, And to its utmost wish enjoy'd my soul: Vain boast of pow'r which vanish'd into air, Since I forgot the LORD who fix'd me there. Was it for this thou gav'st the glorious land, And thy own flock committed to my hand? Was I the shepherd to go first astray, Till innocence itself became my prey?

Ah! no-the fault was mine, I stand alone,
Be thine the praise who plac'd me on the throne,
The guilt, the folly, and the shame my own.
Ev'n at my birth the fatal stain began,
And growing vice pursu'd me into man:
Too close I follow'd where inticement led,
And in the pleasing ruin plung'd my head.
How wretched is the man, how lost his mind,
Whom pleasures soften, and whom passions blind!
I should have met the foes with equal fires,
And bravely combated my own desires;
I should but O; too soon I fell, for sin
Had brib'd my heart, and made a friend within.

To plead surprisal is a poor abuse,

What can I say to palliate, or excuse?

I broke thro' all, though conscience did her part,
Conscience, the faithful guardian of the heart;
How vile must I appear, how lost a thing,
The worst of tyrants, and no more a king!
O! do not thou my abject state despise,

But let my soul find favour in thy eyes!
Though loathsome is my crime, and foul the

The humble suppliant never kneels in vain.

Amazing terrors in my bosom roll, And damp the rising vigor of my soul;

'Tis guilt, 'tis conscious guilt, that shakes my frame,
That chills my ardor and benights my flame;
Ah! mighty Gop, vouchsafe thy quick'ning ray,
Chase from mind those sable clouds away,


One kind regard can give again the day.
How few offenders by thy rigor fall;
Thy pity intervenes and shelters all;
Let me that vast extensive pity find,
And kindly blot my follies from my mind:
If e'er my artless youth was thy delight,
If e'er my soul was precious in thy sight,
If it is worthy thy paternal care,
Restore me to thyself, and fix me there:
A gen'rous ardor to my breast impart,
And let thy grace divine enlarge my heart,
Then should a thousand gay delusions rise,
Should flatt'ring vice sit smiling in my eyes,
Undaunted I will go my faith to prove,
And give my GoD an instance of my love!
The bright temptation shall before me flee,
my untainted soul shall rest on thee.

I fear like Saul I have incurr'd thy hate, And as I fill his throne, should share his fate; Well I remember how th' infernal guest Tumultuous heav'd, and labor'd in his breast; Amaz'd I saw his dreadful eye-balls roll,

Whilst one continued earthquake shook his soul;

His frantic rage subsided as I play'd,

And music's softer pow'rs the spright obey'd. That potent harp which could the fiend command,

Now drops as useless from its master's hand;
Eternal torments in my bosom rage,

My sharper griefs no music can assuage;
'Tis thou alone canst succour the distrest,
And drive the sullen fury from my breast.
Whene'er the horrid deed I backward trace,
My soul rolls inward, and forgets her peace;
Waking I dream, and in the silent night
A fearful vision stalks before my sight;
The pale Uriah walks his dreadful round,
He shakes his head, and points to ev'ry wound.
O foul disgrace to arms! Who now will go
To fight my battles, and repel the foe?

Who now to distant climes for fame will roam,
To fall at last by treachery at home?

Unhurt, the coward may to ages stand,
The brave can only die by my command:
O, hold, my brain, to wild distraction wrought,
I will not, cannot, bear the painful thought!
O, do not fly me for thy mercy's sake!
Turn thee, O, turn, and hear the wretched speak!
Ev'n self-condemn'd thy kneeling servant save,
And raise a drooping monarch from the grave.

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