BARREAUX's CELEBRATED SONNET. BY THE SAME. THO' thy decrees, great God, are wise, Thy dispensations right, Thy darling attribute is love, Compassion thy delight. But should thy goodness condescend To pity my distress, Offended Justice would each thought Of lenity suppress. Yes, righteous God, my daring crimes For pardon leave no room; Thy majesty prevents my bliss, Thy grace demands my doom. O! then denounce thy sovereign will, Avenge thy injur'd name; And let an impious miscreant's tear Thy sacred wrath inflame. Smite me, 'tis time, let thunder fall On my rebellious head; In my destruction I'll adore The hand that strikes me dead. But — through what region shall thy bolts Thy missive vengeance run, Which is not hallowed by the blood Of thy beloved Son?