BY WILLIAM DUER.
Fair orb! so peacefully sublime, In silence rolling high, Know'st thou of passion, or of crime, Or earthly vanity?
In that bright world can lust abide, Or murder bare his arm? With thee are wars, and kings, and pride, And the loud trump's alarm?
What beings, by what motives led, Inhale thy morning breeze? Doth man upon thy mountains tread, Or float upon thy seas?
Say, whence are they? and what their fate? Whom whirls around thy ball? Their present and their future state, Their hopes and fears recall?
Canst thou of a Redeemer tell, Or a Betrayer's kiss? Their's is a Heaven or a Hell? Eternal woe or bliss?
Can infidelity exist, And gaze upon that sky? Here would I bid the Atheist God's finger to deny.
What horrid sounds! what horrid sights! What wretched blood is spilt! While thou, and all the eternal lights, Shine conscious on the guilt?
Thou hear'st red Murder's victims cry; Thou mark'st Lust's stealthy pace; And Avarice hide his heap and sigh; And Rapine's reckless face.
In thy pale light the Suicide, By some deep lonely lake, Or from the headlong torrent's side Doth the vain world forsake.