On The Hurricane

You have obey'd, you WINDS, that must fulfill The Great Disposer's righteous Will; Throughout the Land, unlimited you flew, Nor sought, as heretofore, with Friendly Aid Only, new Motion to bestow Upon the sluggish Vapours, bred below, Condensing into Mists, and melancholy Shade. No more such gentle Methods you pursue, But marching now in terrible Array, Undistinguish'd was your Prey: In vain the

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