WILLIAM HAYWARD ROBERTS. BORN 1745. DIED 1791. HE was educated at Eton, and from thence was elected to King's college, Cambridge, where he took the degree of master of arts, and of doctor in divinity. From being an under master at Eton, he finally rose to be provost of the college, in the year 1781. He was also chaplain to the king, and rector of Farnham Royal, in Buckinghamshire. In 1771, he published, in three parts, "A Poetical Essay on the Attributes and Providence of the Deity." Two years afterwards, "A Poetical Epistle to Christopher Anstey, on the English Poets, chiefly those who had written in blank verse;" and in 1774, his poem of "Judah Restored," a work of no common merit. SELECT POEMS. FROM JUDAH RESTORED. BOOK I. The Subject proposed-State of the Jews in captivity-Charac. ter of Belshazzar-Feast of Baal-Daniel visited by the Angel Gabriel. THE fall of proud Belshazzar, the return Events far distant; thou, who once didst touch Inspire my soul; blest spirit, aid my song. The sun full seventy times had pass'd the realm Of burning Scorpius, and was hastening down The steep convex of heaven, since Babylon Receiv'd her mourning prisoners. Savage taunts, And the rude insult of their barbarous lords, Embitter all their woe. Meanwhile the Law, Proclaim'd on Horeb's top, neglected lies; Nor kid, nor evening lamb, nor heifer bleeds, Nor incense smokes, nor holy Levite claims Choice fruits, and rich oblations. On the trees, That o'er the waters bend, their untun'd harps, Harps, which their fathers struck to festal hymns, Hang useless. 'Twas the hill, 'twas Sion's hill, Which yet Jehovah lov'd. There once he dwelt; There stood his temple; there from side to side The cherub stretch'd his wings, and from the cloud Beam'd bright celestial radiance. Thence, though driven In early childhood to a stranger's land, Or born sad heirs of slavery, still they cast But oh! what hope, what prospect of return, To Bel, Chaldæan idol; and commands Shall they comply? but will Jehovah then Now Night invests the pole: wrapt is the world "Father of truth, and mercy, thou whose arm Even from the day when Abraham heard thy voice, Stretch'd o'er thy chosen race, protects us still, Though now awhile thou suffer us to groan Beneath a tyrant's yoke; when, gracious Lord, O when shall we return? O when again Shall Siloa's banks, and Sion's holy top, Be vocal with thy name? Said not thy seer, When seventy tedious moons had twelve times waned, We should again be free? Behold, the day |