Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By The God of Tempest and EarthquakeMather Byles (17061788)
T
Thy works to speak conspire;
This earth declares thy fame abroad,
With water, air, and fire.
The ruddy lightning flies,
Loud thunder the creation shakes,
And rapid tempests rise.
And shed a solemn night;
And now the heavenly engines play,
And shoot devouring light.
Waves tumble to the shore,
And toss, and foam amidst the storms,
And dash, and rage, and roar.
Thy marching footsteps own;
A shuddering fear her entrails fills,
Her hideous caverns groan.
Through all the mighty space,
And rattling thunders roar along,
And bloody lightnings blaze:
And tempests rend the skies,
Whilst blended ruin, clouds and fire
In harsh disorder rise:
And strike a tuneful song;
My harp all trembling in my hand,
And all inspired my tongue.
And shake the sullen sky;
Your sounding voice from pole to pole
In angry murmurs try.
And let thy beams decay;
Ye lightnings, flash along the night,
And dart a dreadful day.
Clouds heaven’s wide arch deform;
Blow, all ye winds, from every place,
And breathe the final storm.
When thou shalt come in flame,
And burn the earth, and waste the sea,
And break all nature’s frame.
Bid thy swift chariot fly:
Let angels warn thy coming near,
And snatch me to the sky.
I ’d bear a joyful part;
All Hallelujah on my tongue,
All rapture in my heart.”