[Cap. 25.        In Adamantine Chains shall Death be bound,
v. 8.]          And Hell’s grim Tyrant feel th’ eternal Wound. [3]]

[Cap. 30.  As the good Shepherd tends his fleecy Care,
v. xx.] Seeks freshest Pastures and the purest Air,
                Explores the lost, the wand’ring Sheep directs,
                By day o’ersees them, and by night protects;
                The tender Lambs he raises in his Arms,
                Feeds from his Hand, and in his Bosom warms: 
                Mankind shall thus his Guardian Care engage,
                The promis’d Father of the future Age. [4]
                No more shall Nation against Nation rise, [5]
                No ardent Warriors meet with hateful Eyes,
                Nor Fields with gleaming Steel be coverd o’er,
                The Brazen Trumpets kindle Rage no more;
                But useless Lances into Scythes shall bend,
                And the broad Falchion in a Plow-share end. 
                Then Palaces shall rise; the joyful Son [6]
                Shall finish what his short-liv’d Sire begun;
                Their Vines a Shadow to their Race shall yield,
                And the same Hand that sow’d shall reap the Field. 
                The Swain in barren Desarts with Surprize [7]
                Sees Lillies spring, and sudden Verdure rise;
                And Starts, amidst the thirsty Wilds, to hear,
                New Falls of Water murmuring in his Ear: 
                On rifted Rocks, the Dragon’s late Abodes,
                The green Reed trembles, and the Bulrush nods. 
                Waste sandy Vallies, once perplexd with Thorn, [8]
                The spiry Fir and shapely Box adorn: 
                To leafless Shrubs the flow’ring Palms succeed,
                And od’rous Myrtle to the noisome Weed. 
                The Lambs with Wolves shall graze the verdant Mead [9]
                And Boys in flow’ry Bands the Tyger lead;
                The Steer and Lion at one Crib shall meet,
                And harmless Serpents Lick the Pilgrim’s Feet. 
                The smiling Infant in his Hand shall take
                The crested Basilisk and speckled Snake;
                Pleas’d, the green Lustre of the Scales survey,
                And with their forky Tongue and pointless Sting shall
                  play. 
                Rise, crown’d with Light, imperial Salem rise! [10]
                Exalt thy tow’ry Head, and lift thy Eyes! 
                See, a long Race thy spacious Courts adorn; [11]
                See future Sons and Daughters yet unborn
                In crowding Ranks on ev’ry side arise,
                Demanding Life, impatient for the Skies! 
                See barb’rous Nations at thy Gates attend, [12]
                Walk