LINES,
ON THE DESTRUCTION OF LISBON.
O may God’s hand still hover o’er my head,
’Twixt me and earthquakes may thy fingers spread;
When ocean rises, and when mountains fall,
Still shield my temples with that five-fold wall.
Then when huge tons of bursting hills are hurl’d,
My feet may stand amidst a reeling world;
In hours unguarded, when I slumber most,
Be thou my keeper and protect the post:
So shall thy servant like Elijah stand,
Beneath the palm of thy Almighty hand.
J. D.