Page:The poetical works of William Cowper (IA poeticalworksof00cowp).pdf/141

Rh There is a time, and justice marks the date, For long-forbearing clemency to wait, That hour elapsed, the incurable revolt Is punished, and down comes the thunder-bolt. If Mercy then put by the threatening blow, Must she perform the same kind office now? May she, and if offended Heaven be still Accessible and prayer prevail, she will. 'Tis not however insolence and noise, The tempest of tumultuary joys, Nor is it yet despondence and dismay, Will win her visits, or engage her stay, Prayer only, and the penitential tear, Can call her smiling down, and fix her here. But when a country, (one that I could name) In prostitution sinks the sense of shame, When infamous venality grown bold, Writes on his bosom, to be lett or sold; When perjury, that Heaven defying vice, Sells oaths by tale, and at the lowest price, Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade; When av'rice starves, and never hides his face, Two or three millions of the human race, And not a tongue enquires, how, where, or when, Though conscience will have twinges now and then; When profanation of the sacred cause In all its parts, times, ministry and laws, Bespeaks a land once Christian, fallen and lost In all that wars against that title most, What follows next let cities of great name, And regions long since desolate proclaim, Nineveh, Babylon, and ancient Rome, Speak to the present times and times to come, They cry aloud in every careless ear, Stop, while ye may, suspend your mad career; O learn from our example and our fate, Learn wisdom and repentance e'er too late. Not only vice disposes and prepares The mind that slumbers sweetly in her snares, To stoop to tyranny's usurped command, And bend her polished neck beneath his hand, (A dire effect, by one of nature's laws Unchangeably connected with its cause) But providence himself will intervene To throw his dark displeasure o'er the scene. All are his instruments; each form of war, What burns at home, or threatens from afar, Nature in arms, her elements at strife, The storms that overset the joys of life, Are but His rods to scourge a guilty land, And waste it at the bidding of His hand.