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Deaf to the bigot's frantic voice,

Conducts each dubious step by Reason's plan,
To her unerring rule conforms its choice,
Nor tamely yields the sacred rights of man.

Oye! whom Science chose to guide
Her unpolluted stream along,
Adorn with flowers its cultur'd side,
And to its taste allure the young;
O say, what language can reveal
Th' exalted pleasures you must feel,
When fir'd by you, the youthful breast
Disdains to court inglorious rest;
And to the world's admiring gaze,
(Each precept into action brought)
In full reality displays

The liberal maxims you have taught?

A transport this, superior far

To all the bliss th' exulting conqueror feels, When crowds triumphant hail him from the war, And conquer'd nations crouch beneath his wheels.

Oft as those favour'd haunts among,
Your youthful bard delighted roves,
Attentive to the nobler song

That breathes along the list'ning groves;
He seems to tread on classic ground;
A sacred influence breathes around;

And, whilst he feels its awe divine,

He fondly grasps the vast design.-
-But ah! far weightier cares renew
Their claims, and check the rising strain ;
Again he joins life's general crew,
The dull, the giddy, and the vain:

Thus echoing through the rural bow'rs, Th' imprison'd songster hears each rival lay; Whilst cold restraint represses all his pow'rs, And unapplauded flies his joyless day.



NOT for themselves did human kind
Contrive the parts by Heaven assign'd
On life's wide scene to play:
Not Scipio's force, nor Cæsar's skill
Can conquer Glory's arduous hill,
If Fortune close the way.

Yet still the self-depending soul,
Tho' last and least in Fortune's roll,
His proper sphere commands;
And knows what Nature's seal bestow'd,
And sees, before the throne of God,
The rank in which he stands.

Who train'd by laws the future age,
Who rescued nations from the rage
Of partial, factious power,

My heart with distant homage views;
Content if thou, celestial Muse,
Didst rule my natal hour.

Not far beneath the hero's feet,
Nor from the legislator's seat
Stands far remote the bard;

Though not with public terrors crown'd,
Yet wider shall his rule be found,
More lasting his award.

Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame,
And Pompey to the Roman name
Gave universal sway:

Where are they?-Homer's reverend page
Holds empire to the thirtieth age,
And tongues and climes obey.

And thus when William's acts divine
No longer shall from Bourbon's line
Draw one vindictive vow;

When Sidney shall with Cato rest,
And Russel move the patriot's breast
No more than Brutus now;

Yet then shall Shakspeare's powerful art
O'er every passion, every heart,

Confirm his awful throne:

Tyrants shall bow before his laws;
And Freedom's, Glory's, Virtue's cause,
Their dread assertor own.



SAY, will no white-rob'd Son of Light,
Swift-darting from his heav'nly height,
Here deign to take his hallow'd stand;
Here wave his amber locks; unfold
His pinions cloth'd with downy gold;
Here smiling stretch his tutelary wand?

And you, ye host of saints, for ye have known Each dreary path in life's perplexing maze, Though now ye circle yon. eternal throne With harpings high of inexpressive praise, Will not your train descend in radiant state, To break with Mercy's beam this gathering cloud of Fate?

"Tis silence all. No son of light

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Darts swiftly from his heav'nly height:

No train of radiant saints descend.

Mortals, in vain ye hope to find,

If guilt, if fraud has stain'd your mind,
Or saint to hear, or angel to defend.'

So TRUTH proclaims. I hear the sacred sound Burst from the centre of her burning throne: Where aye she sits with star-wreath'd lustre crown'd:

A bright sun clasps her adamantine zone.

So TRUTH proclaims ; her awful voice I hear; With many a solemn pause it slowly meets my ear. 'Attend, ye sons of men! attend, and say, Does not enough of my refulgent ray

Break through the veil of your mortality?
Say, does not reason in this form descry
Unnumber'd, nameless glories, that surpass
The angel's floating pomp, the seraph's glowing

Shall then your earth-born daughters vie
With me? Shall she, whose brightest eye

But emulates the diamond's blaze,

Whose cheek but mocks the peach's bloom,
Whose breath the hyacinth's perfume,

Whose melting voice the warbling woodlark's lays,

Shall she be deem'd my rival? Shall a form Of elemental dross, of mould'ring clay,

Vie with these charms imperial? The poor worm Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day Shall pass, and she is gone: while I appear Flush'd with the bloom of youth through Heaven's eternal year.

'Know, mortals, know, ere first ye sprung,
Ere first these orbs in æther hung,
I shone amid the heavenly throng;
These eyes beheld creation's day,
This voice began the choral lay,

And taught archangels their triumphant song.
Pleas'd I survey'dbright Nature's gradual birth,
Saw infant Light with kindling lustre spread,
Soft vernalfragrance clothe the flow'ring earth,
And ocean heave on its extended bed;

Saw the tall pine aspiring pierce the sky, The tawny lion stalk, the rapid eagle fly.

• Last, man arose, erect in youthful grace, Heaven's hallow'd image stamp'd upon his face, And, as he rose, the high behest was giv'n, "That I alone, of all the host of heav'n, Should reign Protectress of the godlike Youth:" Thus the Almighty spake: he spake and call'd

me TRUTH.'


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