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THE LAW given at SINAI: A POEM.
By a young Gentleman.
BOSTON: Printed by THOMAS and JOHN FLEET, in Cornhill, 1777.
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To the reverend Dr. LANGDON, President of Harvard College.
Hon
d Sir,
WITH but little apology, and perhaps with less modesty, I here expose to your perusal a short juvenile performance, "the law given at Sinai." I offer it to you, Sir, not only as knowing your attachment to the sublime original; but because there is none to whom I so much owe this tribute of gratitude.
"Beneath the shade of whose paternal wing,
"I first presum'd to touch the trembling string."
At this leisure hour, perhaps, the mathematician is drawing his angle, and the logician his conclusion; and if the muse can catch one sprig from Parnassus, I trust it may not be rejected. Whether this little sprig be genuine, I judge not.—If I have fail'd, my excuse for offering it shall be, that altho' I should have but one talent; and that talent be ever so small, yet would I "not hide it beneath the surface of the earth."—
With much respect, from Your pupil, the Author.
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The LAW given at SINAI: A POEM.
THro' heaven's high courts the trump eternal roars—
Lift up your heads ye everlasting doors;
And wait the GOD of Gods!—Lo, at the sound,
Wide fly the portals, blazing all around.
And see he comes! adown the rending skies,
Borne on the whirlwind's rapid wing he flies,
Cherub and seraphim prepare his way,
Black thunder rolls and livid lightnings play.
Heav'n's radiant Bow his awful head arrays,
His face the sun's refulgent beam displays;
[Page]Beneath his feet th' avenging bolts are hurl'd,
Th' avenging bolts that shake a guilty world.—
Sounds but his dread command when down they fly,
The deep-mouth'd thunder rends the vaulted sky;
All nature trembles as they issue down,
Deep groans the earth, her utmost regions groan.
And lo on Sinai's top descends the GOD,
That wrapt in tempest, trembled as he trod.
Flame, smoak, and whirlwind cloath it's awful brow,
While Earthquake heaves the groaning base below.
Tremendous scene, oh how shall men withstand,
When GOD in thunder gives the world command!
And hark! the trumpet's intermitted sound
Roars from the mount and shakes all nature round.
I am the King of Kings, the Lord of all,
At whose dread shrine ev'n Gods in honor fall:
By whom creation rose, divinely fair,
Who form'd the stars, and launch'd them in the air:
Whose mighty nod the rough tumultuous sea,
The whirlwind's Sweep, and rending bolt obey.
[Page]I speak—and lo ten thousand thunders roll—
I breath—and lightning gleams from pole to pole.
Th' Almighty is my name—at my command
Thick darkness rose that veil'd the Memphian land.
Empower'd by me, your leader smote the main,
And call'd up plagues that poison'd all their plain;
That ev'n the earth and air, which gave them birth,
Conspir'd and smote them with enormous death.—
I spake the word, asunder Jordan rode,
That Israel o'er it's dry foundations trod.—
Egypt pursu'd, I bade the same dread wave
Roll back, and whelm their millions in a grave.
'Twas said—the raging elements combin'd,
The rushing tempest and the warring wind;
'Till own'd too late a God's superior pow'r,
They sunk in depths, and sunk to rise no more!
Still wou'd ye have the assistance of that GOD
Continu'd thro' a life's perplexing road;
That when at last the heavens and earth expire,
And nature rolls in one devouring fire,
[Page]Ye might in transport view th' advancing hour.
In transport hear the last dread thunders roar;
Then like the day emerging from the gloom,
Arise to flourish in eternal bloom—
With due respect, with holy awe receive
Those institutions which your God will give!—
For this he trod th' unhallow'd realms below,
In all the pomp the pow'rs of heaven could show.
No other GOD beside me shall ye own;
Nor brazen deity nor featur'd stone.
An awe more holy suits the King of heaven;
A name too sacred to be vainly given!
Th' advantage your's, but render God his due—
His deeds revere, his day of resting too:
That glorious day when all my works were done,
Worlds launch'd in air and light coelestial shone:
When all creation rising from the shade,
Her adamantine basis had been laid.
A work how vast!—full worthy to receive
Eternal reverence from the sons of Eve.—
[Page]Your parents honor, and an awe be paid
To sage experience and the hoary head:
Then full of days, in hoary peace ye'll die,
With blessings crown'd and ripen'd for the sky.
And this observe—your hands withhold from blood,
Nor stain with gore the image of your God;
And this—to foul adult'ry ne'er be given—
A deed that hates the purest laws of heaven!
Rob not your neighbour, blush the wretch to lead
Thro' alien fields to beg his scanty bread.—
O covet not—his little portion save;
And be contented with what heaven gave.
Nor ah—the tongue, that curious work of God,
Abuse to cast his infamy abroad.
Thus spake the Legislator of the sky—
And earth's long shores return the loud reply.
Peal push'd on peal, the doubling thunders roar,
Bellow the winds—the flamy lightnings glare—
Fear in a thousand forms the camp assails,
Nothing but shrieks and groans and death prevails.
[Page]Short-sighted wretches that the storm behold,
And all the terrors that his throne infold;
But think not that its base on mercy lies,
Tho' all around it clouds eternal rise!—
Such shall the scene be at that dreadful time,
When the last trump shall sound his wrath sublime:
That potent trump which every head shall call
From each dark chamber of the bursting ball.
Then at the flames which in his nostrils glow,
The everlasting hills in streams shall flow—
Th' affrighted sun shall from yon arch retire,
Shook from his sphere, and help the gen'ral fire.—
Yon moon in blood! then every star shall fall,
In rude combustion o'er a flaming ball:
Creation sunk, and all God's thunder hurl'd
Down on the wrecks of each expiring world.
But where's the muse?—behold the Almighty rise:
The whirlwind bears him up the flaming skies.
[Page]Follow harmonious all the tuneful choir,
Sweet concert sweeping from the swelling lyre.
Such notes as at creation's birth they sung,
When heaven's broad arch with hallelujahs rung.
Hark—at the strain th' enraptur'd spheres rebound▪
And labouring Echo lengthens out the sound.
Lift up your heads coelestial gates they sing:
And see—they open to receive the king.
Th' expecting host their loudest accents raise—
Eternal God, how glorious are thy ways!
O for some great, some more than angel song,
To speak the praises which to Thee belong!
Imagination faints on this great scene;
Thought is too low, and majesty too mean:
So great thy condescention thus to own
Vile man, the meanest prostrate at thy throne!
May from his grateful altar ever rise
A glad perfume of incense to the skies.—
FINIS.