Not boldness, not regret for crime. Lie, then, and writhe in brimstone fire! 'Twas ye yourselves drew down Mine ire, Lie and lament throughout all time! And also ye, whom I selected, E'en ye forever I disown, For ye My saving grace rejected Ye murmur? blame yourselves alone! "Ye might have lived with Me in bliss, For I of yore had promis'd this; Ye sinn'd, and all My precepts slighted Wrapp'd in the sleep of sin ye dwelt, Now is My fearful judgment felt, By a just doom your guilt requited."-- Thus spake He, and a fearful storm From Him proceeds, the lightnings glow, The thunders seize each wicked form, And hurl them in the gulf below. The God-man closeth Hell's sad doors, In all His majesty He soars From those dark regions back to light. He sitteth at the Father's side; Oh, friends, what joy doth this betide! For us, for us He still will fight! The angels sacred quire around Rejoice before the mighty Lord, So that all creatures hear the sound: "Zebaoth's God be aye ador'd!" 1765. ----- ANTIQUES. ----- LEOPOLD, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK. [Written on the occasion of the death, by drowning, of the Prince.] THOU wert forcibly seized by the hoary lord of the river,-- Holding thee, ever he shares with thee his streaming domain, Calmly sleepest thou near his urn as it silently trickles, Till thou to action art roused, waked by the swift-rolling flood. Kindly be to the people, as when thou still wert a mortal, Perfecting that as a god, which thou didst fail in, as man. 1785. ----- TO THE HUSBANDMAN. SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd; Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last. Joyously plough'd and sow'd! Here food all living is budding, E'en from the side of the tomb Hope will not vanish away. 1789.* ----- ANACREON'S GRAVE. HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are twining, Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard, Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals Beauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel, And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last. 1789.* ----- THE BRETHREN. SLUMBER and Sleep, two brethren ordain'd by the gods to their service, Were by Prometheus implored, comfort to give to his race; But though so light to the gods, too heavy for man was their burden, We in their slumber find sleep, we in their sleep meet with death. 1789.* ----- MEASURE OF TIME. EROS, what mean'st thou by this? In each of thine hands is an hourglass! What, oh thou frivolous god! twofold thy measure of time? "Slowly run from the one, the hours of lovers when parted; While through the other they rush swiftly, as soon as they meet."