hear.
When God of Hosts, thou _Israels_ Spear and Shield,
Wentst out of _Seir_, and marched'st from _Edoms_ field,
Earth trembled, the Heaven's drop'd, the Clouds all pour'd;
The Mountains melted from before the Lord;
Even thy own _Sinai_ melted into streams,
At _Israels_ dazling Gods refulgent Beams.
In _Shamgar_ and in _Jael's_ former days,
The wandring Traveller walked through by-ways.
They chose new Gods. No Spear nor Sword was found,
To have Idolatry depos'd, Truth Crown'd,
Till I alone, against _Jehovahs_ Foes;
I _Deborah_, I _Israels_ Mother rose.
Wake _Deborah_, wake, raise thy exalted Head;
Rise _Barak_, and Captivity Captive lead.
For to blest _Deborah_, belov'd of Heav'n,
Over the Mighty is Dominion given.
Great _Barak_ leads, and _Israels_ Courage warms;
_Ephraim_ and _Benjamin_ march down in Arms:
_Zebulon_ and _Nepthali_ my Thunder bore,
_Dan_ from her Ship, and _Asher_ on the Shore.
Behold _Megiddoes_ waves, and from afar,
See the fierce _Jabins_ threatning storm of War.
But Heav'n 'gainst _Sisera_ fought, and the kind Stars
Kindl'd their embattel'd Fires for _Deborah's_ Wars,
Shot down their Vengeance that miraculous day,
When _Kishons_ Torrants swept their Hosts away.
But curse ye _Meroz_, curse 'em from on high.
Did the denouncing voice of Angels cry;
Accurst be they that went not out t'oppose
The Mighty _Deborah's_, God's, and _Israel's_ Foes.
Victorious _Judah!_ Oh my Soul, th'hast trod,
Trod down their strengths. So fall the Foes of God.
But they who in his Sacred Laws delight,
Be as the Sun when he sets out in might._

Thus sung, they conquer'd _Deborah_; thus fell
Hers, and Heav'ns Foes. But no Defeat tames Hell.
By Conquest overthrown, but not dismay'd,
'Gainst _Israel_ still their private Engines play'd.
And their dire Machinations to fulfil,
Their stings torn out, they kept their poyson still.
And now too weak in open force to joyn,
In close Cabals they hatcht a damn'd Design,
To light that Mine as should the world amaze,
And set the ruin'd _Israel_ in a blaze.

When _Judahs_ Monarch with his Princes round,
Amidst his glorious Sanedrim sate Crown'd,
Beneath his Throne a Cavern low, and dark
As their black Souls, for the great Work they mark.
In this lone Cell their Midnight-Hands bestow'd
A _Stygian_ Compound, a combustive load
Of Mixture wondrous, Execution dire,
Ready the Touch of their Infernal Fire.
Have you not seen in yon aethereal Road,
How at the Rage of th'angry dr