Here you will find the Long Poem Remarks On The Bright And Dark Side of poet Benjamin Tompson
But may a Rural Pen try to set forth Such a Great Fathers Ancient Grace and worth I undertake a no less Arduous Theme Then the Old Sages found the Chaldae Dream 'Tis more then Tythes of a profound respect That must be paid such a Melchizedeck Oxford this light with tongues and Arts doth trim And then his Northern Town doth Challeng him His Time and Strength he Center'd there in this To do good works, and be what now he is. His fulgent Virtues there and learned Strains Tall comely Presence, Life unsoil'd with Stains Things most on WORTHIES in their Stories writ Did him to move in Orbs of Service fitt Things more peculiar yet, my muse intend Say stranger things then these, so weep and End When he forsook first his Oxonian Cell Some Scores at once from Popish darkness fell So this Reformer studied! rare first fruits! Shakeing a Crab-tree thus by hot disputes The acid juice by miracle turn'd wine And rais'd the Spirits of our young Divine Hearers like Doves flock'd with contentios wing Who should be first, feed most: most homeward bring Laden with honey like Hyblaean Bees They knead it into combs upon their knees. Why he from Europes pleasant Garden fled In the Next Age will be with horrour said Braintree was of this Jewel then possest Untill himself he labour'd into Rest His Inventory then with Johns was took His rough Coat, Girdle with the Sacred Book When Reverend Knowles and he sail'd hand in hand To Christ, Espousing the Virginian Land Upon a ledge of Craggy Rocks near stav'd His Bible in his bosome thrusting sav'd The Bible, the best cordial of his Heart Come floods, come flames (cry'd he) we'l never part A constellation of great converts there Shone round him and his Heav'nly Glory where With a Rare Skill in hearts, this Doctor cou'd Steal into them words that should do them good His Balsom's from the Tree of Life distill'd Hearts cleans'd and heal'd, and with rich comforts fill'd But here's the wo! Balsoms which others cur'd Would in his Own Turn hardly be endur'd Apollyon Owing him a cursed Spleen Who an Apollos in the Church had been Dreading his Traffick here would be undone By Numerous proselites he daily won Accus'd him of Imaginary faults And push'd him down so into dismal Vaults Vaults where he kept long Ember weeks of grief 'Till Heav'n alarm'd sent him in relief Then was a Daniel in the lyons Den A man, oh how belov'd of God and men By his beds-side an Hebrew sword there lay With which at last he drove the Devil away. Quaker's too durst not bear his keen replies But fearing it half drawn the trembler flyes Like Lazarus new rais'd from Death appears The Saint that had been dead for many years Our Nehemiah said, shall such as I Desert my flock, and like a Coward fly Long had the Churches begg'd the Saints release Releas'd at last, he dies in Glorious peace The Night is not so long, but phosphors ray Approaching Glories doth on high display Faith's Eye in him discern'd the Morning Star His heart leap'd; Sure the Sun cannot be far In Extasies of Joy, he Ravish'd Cryes Love, Love the Lamb, the Lamb, in whome he dies.