Thomson and Pollok: containing The seasons, by James Thomson, and The course of time, by Robert Pollok, A. M.

430 THE COURSE OF TIME.
Solemn, magnificent, majestic, slow;
Moving sublime with glory infinite,
And numbers infinite, and awful song,
They passed the gate of heaven, which many a league,
Opened either way, to let the glory forth.
Of this great march. And now, the sons of men
Beheld their coming, which, before, they heard;
Beheld the glorious countenance of God!
All light was swallowed up, all objects seen
Faded; and the Incarnate, visible
Alone, held every eye upon him fixed;
The wicked saw his majesty severe;
And those who pierced Him saw his face with clouds
Of glory circled round, essential bright!
And to the rocks and mountains called in vain,
To hide them from the fierceness of his wrath;
Almighty power their flight restrained, and held
Them bound immovable before the bar.
The righteous, undismayed and bold,-best proof,
This day, of fortitude sincere, -sustained
By inward faith, with acclamations loud,
Received the coming of the Son of Man?
And, drawn by love, inclined to his approach,
Moving to meet the brightness of his face.
Meantime, 'tween good and bad, the Judge his
wheels
Stayed, and, ascending, sat upon the great
White Throne, that morning founded there by power
Omnipotent, and built on righteousness
And truth. Behind, before, on every side,
In native and reflected blaze of bright,
Celestial equipage, the myriads stood,
That with his marching came; rank above rank,
Rank above rank, with shield and flaming sword.

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