Swift Executors of his holy Word,

(Lord

Whirlwinds and Tempeft praise the Almighty

Mountains, who to your Maker's View

Seem less than Mole-Hills do to you,

Remember how, when firft Jehovah spoke,
All Heaven was Fire, and Sinai hid in Smoke :
Praise him sweet Off-fpring of the Ground,
With Heavenly Nectar yearly Crown'd.

And ye tall Cedars, celebrate his Praise.
That in his Temple Sacred Altars raise :
Idle Musicians of the Spring,

Whose only care's to Love and Sing,

Fly thro the world,and let your trembling Throat Praise your Creator with the fweetest Note.

Praise him each Salvage Furious Beaft,

That on his Stores do daily feast.

Ard

And you tame Slaves of the Laborious Plow,
Your weary Knees to your Creator bow:
Majeftick Monarchs, Mortal Gods,

Whofe Power hath here no Periods:

May all Attempts against your Crown be vain,
But ftill remember by whose power you Reign:
Let the wide World his Praises fing,
Where Tagus and Euphrates fpring,

And from the Danube frofty Banks, to those, Where from an unknown head great Nilus flows You that difpofe of all our Lives,

Praise him from whom your power derives.

Be True and Juft, like him, and fear his Word,
As much as Malefactors do your Sword.
Praise him old Monuments of Time,

O praise him in your Youthful prime.

Praise him fair Idols of our greedy Sence,

Exalt his Name, fweet Age of Innocence :
Jehovab's Name fhall only last,

When Heaven, Earth, and all is past.

Nothing, Great God, is to be found in Thee, But Unconceivable Eternity:

Exalt, O Jacob's Sacred Race,

The God of Gods, the God of Grace,

Who will above the Stars your Empire raise, And with his Glory, Recompence your Praife.

ΤΟ

ΤΟ

ORINDA.

An Imitation of

HORACE.

By the Earl of Rofcommon.

V

Integer vita, &c.

Carm. Lib. 1. Od. 22.

1.

Irtue (Dear Friend) needs no defence,

No Arms, but its own Innocence;

Quivers, and Bows, and poifon'd Darts,
Are only us'd-by guilty Hearts.

II.

An honeft mind, fafely alone

May travel through the burning Zone, Or through the deepest Scythian Snows, Or where the fam'd Hydafpes flows.

III.

While (rul'd by a refiftless fire)
Our Great O RINDA I Admire.
The hungry Wolves that fee me ftray
Unarm'd and fingle, run away.

IV.

Set me in the remotest place

That ever Neptune did embrace,

When there her Image fills my Breaft,
Helicon is not half fo bleft.