Which well observing, he, in numerous lines, Taught wretched man how fast his life declines; In whom he dwelt before the world was made, And may again retire when that shall fade. The lasting Iliads have not lived so long As his and Deborah's triumphant song. Delphos unknown, no Muse could them inspire, But that which governs the celestial choir. 90 Heaven to the pious did this art reveal, And from their store succeeding poets steal. Homer's Scamander for the Trojans fought, And swell'd so high, by her old Kishon taught. His river scarce could fierce Achilles stay; Hers, more successful, swept her foes away. The host of heaven, his Phoebus and his Mars, He arms, instructed by her fighting stars. She led them all against the common foe; But he (misled by what he saw below!) 100 The powers above, like wretched men, divides, And breaks their union into different sides. The noblest parts which in his heroes shine, May be but copies of that heroine. Homer himself, and Agamemnon, she The writer could, and the commander, be. Truth she relates in a sublimer strain, Than all the tales the boldest Greeks could feign; For what she sung that Spirit did indite, Which gave her courage and success in fight. 110 A double garland crowns the matchless dame; From heaven her poem and her conquest came. Though of the Jews she merit most esteem, Yet here the Christian has the greater theme; Her martial song describes how Sis'ra fell; This sings our triumph over death and hell. The rising light employ'd the sacred breath 117 Of the blest Virgin and Elizabeth. In songs of joy the angels sung His birth; Here how He treated was upon the earth Trembling we read! th'affliction and the scorn, Which for our guilt so patiently was borne! Conception, birth, and suff'ring, all belong (Though various parts) to one celestial song; And she, well using so divine an art, Has in this concert sung the tragic part. As Hannah's seed was vow'd to sacred use, So here this lady consecrates her Muse. With like reward may Heaven her bed adorn, With fruit as fair as by her Muse is born! 130 [1] 'Writing grace': Moses. ON THE PARAPHRASE OF THE LORD'S PRAYER. WRITTEN BY MRS WHARTON. Silence, you winds! listen, ethereal lights! While our Urania sings what Heaven indites; The numbers are the nymph's; but from above Descends the pledge of that eternal love. Here wretched mortals have not leave alone, But are instructed to approach His throne; And how can He to miserable men Deny requests which His own hand did pen? In the Evangelists we find the prose Which, paraphrased by her, a poem grows; A devout rapture! so divine a hymn, It may become the highest seraphim! For they, like her, in that celestial choir, Sing only what the Spirit does inspire. Taught by our Lord, and theirs, with us they may For all but pardon for offences pray.