es ee ee eee ee eee ee 
C 134 j 
[Sept. I 3 ‘i 
| ORIGINAL POETRY. 
MINES on the CRUCIFIXION, occafioned by the 
PERUSAL of MR. CUMBERLAND’S divine 
POEM of CALVARY, by. 8S. WHITCHURCH, 
IRONMONGER, 2f BATH. 
PLEASD have I wander’d where the Mufes 
ftray, 
‘Thro’ Fancy’s regions, borne on pinions gay—~ 
Fir'd with the theme of Pyc’s illuftrious fong,, 
d’?ve mark’d the tide of battle roll along, 
Where Alfred, champion of his country’s 
right, 
Grafp’d vidt’ry’s fword, and put the Danes to 
Drawn by the fame of Orleans gallant Maid, 
To foreign camps with : Soutbey’s Mufe Ive 
firay’d, 
Where flufi’s with flaughter from his blood. 
fiain’d car 
AIndignant frown’d the furious God of War, 
And where befide him, dauntlefs in the fight, 
The virgin-warrior rode, unmatch’d in might; 
Arm’din her fovereign’s caufe—her patriot 
breaft 
Felt all her country’s wrongs, by foes ep- 
prefs’d— 
She bade the battle’s tempeft pour amain, 
‘Th’ invader {mote, and ftrew’d his route with 
flain— 
I've mourn’d the tragic fate of loyal zeal, 
And glorious ftruggling for her country’s 
weal ; 
‘When—chain’d by tyrant powerexto monkifh - - 
rage, 
She fell unpitied in a barbarous age ! 
Entranc’d with melody when Bowles has fung, 
Pve caught the honied accents from his 
tonguc— 
Lured by the magic of defcriptive verfe, 
Vaft Nature’s charms I’ve heard Delille re- 
hearfe— 
Eve woo’d the tuneful Nine that ftrung by 
turns 
The harp of Macneil], and the lyre of Burns 
But what avails it, if the Mufes’ fire 
Muft like the meteor’s tranfient flafh expire ? 
Alas! what boots it, fince the poet’s doom 
$s death’s dark cavern, and th? oblivious 
tomb ; 
Since lafting P: efits noe Fame’s loud trump 
can give, : 
And inthe grave nor bays, nor laurels live >— 
Pi feex the path by Heaven’s true pilgrims 
trod_; 
Vil wait with Cumberland on Nature’s God— 
Smit with the saviour’s love, and poet’s 
art, 
Ili dwell on themes fhall fire the grateful 
hearst, 
When ali the vain purfuits of man be o’er, 
Ard mortol’s minflrelfy may charm no more— 
fF ‘ine poets above alluded to are only fome 
of thofe whofe works have been nominated hy 
the members of a reading-feciety to which 
the auther belongs. 
I'll fearch Getbfemane’s lone walks to fee 
Curist’s bloody fweat, and heart-rent agony 5 
Ill climb Golgotha’s heights, and look all 
round 
Its frowning fummit and its blood-ftain’d 
ground, 
Where from his nail-pierced limbs, and 
wounded fide 
Gon’s ftricken Lams pour’d out life’s facred 
jt dead as 
Lift to the nada of his heavy’ nly bon autet 
As on his features Death’s pale image hung ; 
Whilft Rome’s rude rufians mock, and Jews 
deride, . 
6 FATHER, forgive!” the holy sur FERER 
cry’ d— 
Hear his laft words expiring on the eee 
‘¢ 4h! why, my God—my God !—baft thou 
forfaken me?” 
If pure devotion ever warm’d my breaift, 
Or hallow’d piety my mind imprefs’d ; 
If friendfhip lure me, or love’s pleafant 
voice 5 
If chafte religion be my bofom’s choice ; 
Here let me ftop—-where Calvary’ s mount dif- 
lays 
Heaven’s fun faint fetting with beclouded 
ray$ ; 
Here let me pavfemwhere man’s beft friend 
expir’d, 
And where no more by Faith's bright vifion 
fir’d, 
Smiting their pained breafts—n1s chofen few 
Sad farewel took of wim, and long adieu, 
Whom Hope had piétur’d to the ardent mind 
Tfrael’s enthroned Kinc—-REpEEMER of 
Mankind! | ae 
Here bid my heart’s foft fympathies arife, 
And pour the willing tribute from mine eyes, 
For Pity calls—<‘* If thou haft tears to {parey 
Kneel at the Crofs of Curist, and fhed them 
there.”"— 
Come, then, my foul—-purfue the bard’s 
bold flight, 
Mark Calvary’s {cene, and wonder at the 
é fight— 
Lift to that groan of death !—mine eyes bee 
hold 
The tragedy by feers infpir’d, foretold—~ 
On Satan’s brow fee fterndefiance low*r | 
As all around him hell's grim legions pour, 
On ruin bent—See Death’s black flag une 
furl’d 
Whilft Chaos fhakes the pillars of the world ; 
Earth trembling leans on rending rocks in 
vain, 
And ancient Night tofibies hig darkfome 
_ reign— 
But Jesus aids ‘—fair dawns the promis’d 
day 3 
Hell's dark battalions fcowling flink away-— 
High Heav’n is won—within whofe portals 
wide 
Difarmed Justice fits by. Mercy Sfide 5 _ 
Hene 
