IT is this Series of Thought that I have endeavoured to exprefs in the following Hymn, which I have compofed during this my Sick • nefs. I. WHEN rifing from the Bed of Death, O'erwhelm'd with Guilt and Fear, I fee my Maker, Face to Face, O bow fhall I appear! II. If yet, while Pardon may be found My Heart with inward Horror sprinks, And trembles at the Thought; III. When thou, O Lord, fhalt ftand difclos'd In Majefty fevere, And fit in Judgment on my Soul, O how shall I appear! IV. But thou haft told the troubled Mind, The timely Tribute of her Tears Shall endless Woe prevent. V.' Then fee the Sorrows of my Heart, Ere yet it be too late; And hear my Saviour's dying Groans, VI. For never fhall my Soul despair Her Pardon to procure, 'THERE is a noble Hymn in < French, which Monfieur Bayle has ce• lebrated for a very fine one, and which the famous Author of the Art of • Speaking calls an Admirable one, that turns upon a Thought of the fame nature. If I could have done it Justice in Englife, I would have fent it you tranflated; it was written by Monfieur Des Barreaux, who had been one of the greateft Wits and Libertines in France, but in his laft Years was as remarkable a Penitent. GRAND Dieu, tes jugemens font remplis Oui, Oui, mon Dieu, la grandeur de mon impieté, Ne laiffe à ton pouvoir que le choix du supplice ; Ton intereft s'oppose à ma felicité, Et ta clemence même attend que je periffe. Contente ton defir, puisqu'ilt' eft glorieux; Offenfe toy des pleurs qui coulent de mes yeux; Tonne, frappe, il eft temps, reus moi guerre pour guerre: J'adore en periffant la raison qui t' aigrit, Mais deffus quel endroit tombera ton tonnerre, Qui ne foie tout couvert du fang de JESUS CHRIST. • IF thefe Thoughts may be ferviceable to you, I defire you would place them in a proper Light, and am ever, 'with great Sincerity, Me Parnaffi deferta per ardua, dulcis Raptat Amor; juvat ire jugis qua nulla priorum Caftaliam molli divertitur Orbita Clivo. Virg. Mr. SPECTATOR, Came home a little later than ufual the other Night, I and not finding my felf inclined to fleep, I took up Virgil to divert me till I 'fhould be more difpofed to rest. He is the Author whom I always chufe on fuch Occafions, no one writing in fo divine, fo harmonious, nor fo equal ‹ a strain, which leaves the Mind compofed, and foftned into an agreeable Melancholy; the Temper in which, of all others, I chufe to close the Day. The Paffages I turned to were thofe beautiful Raptures in his Georgicks, where he profeffes himself entirely given up to the Mufes, and smit with the Love of Poetry, paffionately wifhing to be tranfported to the cool • Shades Shades and Retirements of the Moun'tain Hamus. I clos'd the Book and C went to Bed. What I had just before been reading made fo ftrong an Impreffion on my Mind, that Fancy 'feemed almoft to fulfil to me the Wish of Virgil, in prefenting to me the fol'lowing Vifion. 'MĚTHOUGHT I was on a "fudden placed in the Plains of Boeotia, < where at the end of the Horizon I faw the Mountain Parnaffus riC fing before me. The Profpect was of fo large an Extent, that I had long wander'd about to find a Path ' which fhould directly lead me to it, had I not feen at fome diftance a Grove of Trees, which in a Plain that had "nothing else remarkable enough in it to fix my Sight, immediately determined me to go thither. When I arrived at it, I found it parted out into a great Number of Walks and Allys, which often widened into beautiful Openings, as Circles or Ovals, fet round with Yews and Cypreffes, with Niches, Grotto's, and Caves placed on the fides, encompaffed with Ivy. There was no Sound to be heard in the whole place, but only that 2 |