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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530127" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hannah</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now Crowds more off, retiring trumpetts sound<br>On Eccho's dying in their last rebound,<br>The notes of fancy seem no longer strong,<br>But sweetning closes fitt a private song. <br>So when the storms forsake ye seas command<br>To break their forces in the winding land,<br>No more their blasts tumultuous rage proclaim,<br>But sweep in murmurs ore a murm'ring stream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Seek ye Subject & its song be mine<br>Whose numbers next in Sacred story shine;<br>Go brightly-working thought, prepard to fly<br>Above ye page on hov'ring pinnions ly,<br>& beat with stronger force to make thee rise<br>Where beautious Hannah meets ye searching eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There frame a town & fix a tent with cords,<br>The town be Shiloh calld, the tent ye Lords.<br>Carvd pillars filleted with silver rear<br>To close ye curtains in an outward square,<br>But those within it which ye porch uphold<br>Be finely wrought & overlaid with gold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here Eli comes to take ye resting Seat,<br>Slow-moving forward with a revrend gate,<br>Sacred in office, venerably sage<br>& venerably great in silverd age.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here Hannah comes, a melancholly wife<br>Reproachd for barren in ye marriage life.<br>Like summer-mornings she to sight appears,<br>Bedewd & shining in the midst of tears.<br>Her heart in bitterness of grief she bowd,<br>& thus her wishes to the Lord she vowd.<br>If thou thine handmaid with compassion see,<br>If I my God am not forgott by thee,<br>If in mine offspring thou prolong my line,<br>The Child I wish for all his days be thine,<br>His life devoted in thy courts be led,<br>& not a rasour come upon his head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So from recesses of her inmost soul<br>Through moving lips her still devotion stole:<br>As silent waters glide through parted trees<br>Whose branches tremble with a rising breeze.<br>The words were lost because her heart was low,<br>But free desire had taught ye mouth to go.<br>This Eli markd, & with a voice severe,<br>While yet she multiplyd her thoughts in prayr,<br>How long shall wine he crys distract thy breast,<br>Begon & lay ye drunken fitt by rest.<br>Ah says ye mourner count not this for sin, <br>It is not wine but grief that workes within,<br>The spirit of thy wretched handmaid know,<br>Her prayr's complaint, & her condition woe.<br>Then spake ye Sacred Priest, in peace depart,<br>& with thy comfort God fullfill thine heart.<br>His blessing thus pronouncd with awfull sound,<br>The Vot'ry bending leaves ye solemn ground,<br>She seems confirmd the Lord has heard her crys,<br>& Chearfull Hope the tears of trouble drys,<br>& makes her alterd eyes irradiate roll<br>With Joy that dawns in thought upon ye soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now lett ye Town & Tent & court remain,<br>& leap the time till Hannah comes again.<br>As painted prospects skip along ye green<br>from hills to mountains eminently seen,<br>& leave their intervalls that sink below<br>In deep retirement unexpressd to show.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behold she comes (but not as once she came<br>To grieve to sigh & teach her eyes to stream.)<br>Content adorns her with a lively face,<br>An open look, & smiling kind of grace.<br>Her little Samuel in her arms she bears<br>The wish of long desire & Child of prayrs,<br>& as ye sacrifice she brought begun,<br>To rev'rend Eli she presents her son.<br>Here, crys ye Mother, here my Lord may see<br>The woman come who prayd in grief by thee,<br>The Child I su'd for God with bounty gave,<br>& what he granted let him now receive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But still ye Vot'ry feeles her temper move<br>With all ye tender violence of Love.<br>That still enjoys ye gift, & inly burns<br>To search for larger or for more returns.<br>Then filld with blessings which allure to praise,<br>& raisd by Joy to soul-enchanting lays,<br>Thus thankes ye Lord beneficently-kind<br>In sweet effusions of ye gratefull mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>My lifting heart with more than common heat<br>Sends up its thankes to God on ev'ry beat.<br>My glory raisd above ye reach of scorn<br>In God exalts its highly-planted horn.<br>My mouth enlargd mine enemy defys, <br>& finds in Gods salvation full replys.<br>O Bright in holy beautys, Powr divine,<br>Theres none whose glory can compare wth thine,<br>None share thine honours, nay theres none beside,<br>No rock on which thy creatures can confide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye proud in spirit who your gifts adore,<br>Unlearn the fault & speak with pride no more:<br>No more in words your arrogance be shown,<br>Nor call ye workes of Providence your own,<br>Since he that rules us infinitely knows,<br>& as he will his acts of Powr dispose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The strong whose sinewy forces archd ye bow<br>Have seen it shatterd by ye conqu'ring foe.<br>The weak have felt their nerves more firmly brace,<br>& new-sprung vigour in the limbs encrease.<br>The full whom varyd tasts of plenty fed<br>Have lett their labour out to gain their bread.<br>The poor that languishd in a starving state<br>Content & full have ceased to beg their meat.<br>The barren womb, no longer barren now,<br>(O be my thankes accepted with my vow)<br>In pleasure wonders at a mothers pain,<br>& sees her offspring & conceives again,<br>While she that gloryd in her numerous heirs,<br>Now broke by feebleness no longer bears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such turns their rising from ye Lord derive,<br>The Lord that kills the Lord yt makes alive.<br>He brings by sickness down to gaping graves,<br>& by restoring health from sickness saves;<br>He makes ye poor by keeping back his store,<br>& makes ye rich by blessing men with more;<br>He sinking hearts with bitter grief annoys,<br>Or lifts them bounding with enlivend Joys.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He takes ye beggar from his humble clay<br>From off ye dunghill where despisd he lay<br>To mix with Princes in a rank supream,<br>Fill thrones of Honour & inherit fame.<br>For all the pillars of exalted state<br>So nobly firm so beautifully great,<br>Whose various orders bear ye rounded ball<br>Which woud without them to confusion fall,<br>All are ye Lords, at his disposure stand,<br>& prop ye governd world at his command. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">His mercy still more wonderfully sweet<br>Shall guard ye righteous & uphold their feet.<br>While through ye darkness of ye wicked soul<br>Amazement Dread & Desperation roll,<br>While envy stops their tongues, & hopeless grief<br>that sees their fears but not their fears relief,<br>& they their strength as unavailing view,<br>Since none shall trust in that & safely too.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The foes of Israel for his Israels sake<br>God will to pieces in his anger break.<br>His bolts of thunder from an opend sky<br>Shall on their heads with force unerring fly.<br>His voice shall call, & all ye world shall hear,<br>& all for sentence at his Seat appear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But mount to gentler praises, mount again<br>My thought prophetick of Messiahs reign,<br>Perceive the glorys which around him shine,<br>& thus thine hymn be crownd with grace divine.<br>'Strength to ye King for mans salvation born,<br>'& honours rising like ye lifted horn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tis here ye numbers find a bright repose,<br>The vows accepted & the Vot'ry goes.<br>But thou my soul upon her accents hung,<br>& sweetly pleasd with what she sweetly sung,<br>Prolong the pleasure with thine inward eyes,<br>Turn back thy thought, & see ye subject rise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In her peculiar case ye song begun,<br>& for awhile through private blessings run,<br>As through their banks the curling waters play,<br>& soft in murmurs kiss ye flowry way.<br>With force encreasing then she leaps ye bounds,<br>& largely flows on more extended grounds,<br>Spreads wide & wider, till vast seas appear,<br>& boundless views of Providence are here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How Swift these views along her Anthem glide,<br>As waves on waves pushd forward in ye tide!<br>How swift thy wonders ore my fancy sweep,<br>O Providence thou great unfathomd deep,<br>Where Resignation gently dips ye wing,<br>& learns to love & thank, admire & sing,<br>But bold presumptious Reasnings diving down<br>To reach ye bottom, in their diving drown. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Neglecting man forgetfull of thy ways<br>Nor owns thy care, nor thinkes of giving praise,<br>But from himself his happiness derives,<br>& thankes his wisdome when by thine he thrives.<br>His limbs at ease in soft repose he spreads,<br>Bewitchd with vain delights on flowry beds,<br>& while his sense ye fragrant breezes kiss,<br>He meditates a waking dream of bliss.<br>He thinks of Kingdomes & their crowns are near;<br>He thinkes of glorys & their rays appear;<br>He thinks of beautys & a lovely face<br>Serenely smiles in evry taking grace;<br>He thinks of riches & their heaps arise<br>Display their glittring forms & fix his eyes;<br>Thus drawn with pleasures in a charming view<br>Rising he reaches & woud faign pursue.<br>But still ye fleeting shadows mock his care,<br>& still his fingers grasp at yielding air,<br>What ere our tempers as their comforts want<br>It is not mans to take but Gods to grant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If then persisting in the vain design<br>We seek true bliss unblessd with help divine,<br>Still may we search, still search without relief,<br>Nor onely want a bliss but find a grief.<br>That such conviction may to sight appear<br>Sitt down ye Sons of men spectatours here,<br>Behold a scene upon your folly wrought,<br>& lett this lively scene instruct ye thought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Boy blow thy pipe untill ye bubble rise,<br>Then cast it off to float upon ye skys,<br>Still swell its sides with breath. O beautious frame!<br>It grows, it shines, be now the world thy name.<br>Methinks Creation forms itself within,<br>The men, the towns, ye birds, ye trees are seen,<br>The skys above present an Azure show,<br>& lovely Verdure paints an earth below.<br>Ile wind my self in this delightfull sphere,<br>& live a thousand years of pleasure there,<br>Rolld up in blisses which around me close,<br>& now regald with these & now with those.<br>False hope, but falser words of Joy farewell,<br>You've rent the lodging where I meant to dwell, <br>My bubble's burst, my prospects disappear,<br>& leave behind a moral & a tear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If at the type our dreaming soules awake,<br>& Hannahs strains their Just impression make,<br>The boundless powr of Providence we know,<br>& fix our trust on nothing here below.<br>Then He grown pleasd that men his greatness own,<br>Lookes down Serenely from his starry throne,<br>& bids ye blessed days our prayrs have won<br>Put on their glorys & prepare to run.<br>For which our thanks be Justly sent above,<br>Enlargd by gladness, & inspird with Love:<br>For which his praises be for ever sung,<br>Oh Sweet employments of ye gratefull tongue!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Burst forth my temper in a godly flame,<br>For all his blessings laud his holy name:<br>That ere mine eyes saluted chearfull day<br>A gift devoted in ye womb I lay,<br>like Samuel vowd before my breath I drew,<br>O coud I prove in life like Samuel too!<br>That all my frame is exquisitely wrought,<br>The world enjoyd by sense, & God by thought;<br>That living streams through living Channels glide<br>To make this frame by natures course abide;<br>That for its good by Providences care<br>Fire Joyns with water, earth concurrs wth air;<br>That Mercys ever-inexhausted store<br>Is pleasd to proffer & to promise more,<br>& all ye proffers stream with grace divine,<br>& all ye promises with glory shine.<br>O praise the Lord my Soul, in one accord<br>Lett all that is within me praise ye Lord;<br>O praise ye Lord my soul, & ever strive<br>To keep the sweet remembrances alive:<br>Still raise ye kind affections of thine heart,<br>Raise evry gratefull word to bear a part,<br>With ev'ry word the strains of love devise,<br>Awake thine harp, & thou thy self arise,<br>Then if his Mercy be not half expresst,<br>Lett wondring silence magnify ye rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Parnell">Thomas Parnell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530127" data-title="Hannah de Thomas Parnell" data-description="Now Crowds more off, retiring trumpetts sound
On Eccho's dying in their last rebound,
The notes of fancy seem no longer strong,
But sweetning closes fitt a private song. 
So when the storms forsake ye seas command
To break their forces in the wind..."></div>
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