Original - Duke Divinity School

What time on Lebanon’s proud Hill,
Slow rose the Stately Cedars Brow.
Nor less rejoice the lowly Plains,
Of useful Corn the fertile Bed,
Than when the Lordly Cedar reigns,
A beauteous, but a Barren Shade.
17 While in His Arms the Painted Train,
Warbling to the Vocal Grove,
Sweetly tell their Pleasing Pain,
Willing Slaves to Genial Love.
18 While the Wild goats, an active Throng,
From Rock to Rock light-bounding fly
Jehovah’s Praise in Solemn Song
Shall echo thro’ the Vaulted Sky.
To Mr------, Schoolmaster
From Flowery Plains, whose ever humid Sides
Isis and Cherwell, lucid streams, bedew
Wide rolling, and in wanton Circlets wav’d
Embrace old Earth, till from her swelling Womb
(Her Pangs assuag’d by Titan’s healing Hand)
The springing Green erects his filial Head;
Thou, Swain, a Humble muse accosts, Thee admires;
Potent of Song, If haply Thou mayst deign
T’ unbend Thy Brow, or stay thy Red Right hand
(Arrested in mid course) with fell Intent
Dependent o’er the Quivering Thigh, Mine bent
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