On yon mountain's summit ærial, No voluptuous scents exhaling, Type of virtue's wreaths victorious, Flowering on the craggy height, Those who mount with ardour glorious Pay their labour with delight. AN ODE: ON READING ONE UPON THE SAME SUBJECT BY PROFESSOR RICHARDSON OF GLASGOW. "Say, where just Heav'n was thy avenging brand!” TICKELL. WHAT HAT voice awakes the soul-afflicting theme? That oft with anguish fill'd my youthful breast, When by the Mohawk's wild sequester'd stream Indignant grief my labouring heart opprest. Yes! there those generous tribes I saw, Who, sway'd alone by Nature's law, The Author's childhood was passed at a small distance from the Mohawk river, and one part of it on the banks of lake Ontario ; from whence resulted an early and strong attachment to those generous nations who have always been beloved by persons any time resident among them. Th' unerring paths of rectitude pursue; And valour's greenest laurel claim, Saw them reluctant yield their poplar groves, Tho' there no lofty rocks aspire, Whose caves with ductile silver glow; Yet tho' no glittering ore allure To these deep glooms the Christian race, Where the brown native urg'd secure Through pathless woods the headlong chace; See lucre covet even the furry spoil That wont to deck his limbs and crown his toil! Ye sons of trade! whose fatal guile With dire disease and madness fraught, Yet what are these? your lesser guilt, Your towns, by fraud insidious built, Each southern breeze seem'd warm with sighs, Where nations fallen, no more to rise, Where still the fierce insatiate love of gain Behold their pow'rs proud fabric rise, Two mighty columns bear the lofty roof, Which each conspicuous pillar claims; Where were ye then, ye sacred band ? To spread salvation's joyful sound; And the bright throne of peace display, Where Truth and Mercy sit, with olive crown'd? Alas! deep sunk in superstition's gloom, They bow beneath the tyranny of Rome. But see! where Mercy's beams divine The champion of the suffering race; With saintly valour could persist To chace the demon Guilt even to his burning throne. |