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Lowly they bow'd adering, and began
Their Orisons, each Morning duly paid
In various style.
Printed for J. Parsons, as, Paternoster Row. Dec. 1.1794
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, 166 If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 170 Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meets the orient Sun, now fly'st,
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies,
And ye five other wand'ring fires that move
In mystic dance not without song, resound
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix
And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,
Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise,
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs,
Rising or falling still advance his praise.
His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye
With every plant; in sign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, 195
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Join voices all ye living Souls; ye Birds,
That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep,
Witness if I be silent, morn or ev'n,
To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail Universal Lord, be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.
So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts Firm peace recover'd soon and wonted calm. 210 On to their morning's rural work they haste, Among sweet dews and flow'rs; where any row Of fruit-trees over-woody reach'd too far Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check Fruitless embraces; or they led the vine 215 To wed her elm: she spous'd about him twines Her marriageable arms, and with her brings Her dow'r th' adopted clusters, to adorn His barren leaves. Them thus employ'd beheld With pity Heav'n's high King, and to him call'd Raphael, the sociable Sp'rit, that deign'd
To travel with Tobias, and secur'd
His marriage with the sev'ntimes-wedded maid.
Raphael, said he, thou hear'st what stir on Earth
Satan from Hell, 'scap'd thro' the darksome gulf,
Hath rais'd in Paradise, and how disturb'd 226
This night the human pair, how he designs
In them at once to ruin all mankind.
Go, therefore, half this day as friend with friend,
Converse with Adam, in what bow'r or shade
Thou find'st him from the heat of noon retir'd,
To respite his day-labour with repast,
Or with repose; and such discourse bring on
may advise him of his happy state,
Happiness in his pow'r left free to will,
Left to his own free will, his will though free,
Yet mutable; whence warn him to beware
He swerve not too secure. Tell him withal
His danger, and from whom; what enemy,
Late fall'n himself from Heav'n, is plotting now
The fall of others from like state of bliss.
By vi'lence? No, for that shall be withstood;
But by deceit and lies. This let him know,
Lest wilfully transgressing he pretend
Surprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd.
So spake th' Eternal Father, and fulfill'd All justice: nor delay'd the winged Saint After his charge receiv'd; but from among Thousand celestial Ardors, where he stood 250 Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light Flew through the midst of Heav'n; th' angelic choirs,