| Citation |
EP.779.086
16 Oct 1779:41 (53)
From the Norwich Packet.
A MIDNIGHT THOUGHT. God INCOMPREHENSIBLE.
Half way up heav'n the night had whirl'd her ear,
And urg'd her gloomy coursers, till arriv'd
Now at high noon; her sable mantle spread
Thick darkness o'er the globe, and not a star
Gleam'd on the solemn scene. . .
. . . [26 lines] seraphs who nearest
Encircling round the throne, and tune their lyres
To rapt'rous strains of loud harmonious praise,
. . . [19 lines]
Strait from ten thousand silver strings
Sweet symphony resounds. I hear, I hear
The flowing notes, they charm my ravish'd soul;
Oh how I long, I burn to join the choir!
. . . [8 more lines, signed] Strato.
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