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ODE TO TRUTH.
Say, will 110 white-rob'd Son of Light,
Here deign to take his hallow'd stand ;
His pinions cloth'd with downy gold; Here smiling stretch his tutelary wand ? And you, ye host of Saints, for
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 gath’ring cloud of Fate?
"Tis silence all. No Son of Light Darts swiftly from his heav'nly height:
No train of radiant Saints descend.
Mortals, in vain ye liope 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
she sits with star-wreath'd lustre crown'd : A bright Sun clasps her adan'antłne zone.
So Truth proclaims : her awful voice I hear :
“ Attend, ye Sons of Men ; attend, and say,
Say, does not Reason in this form descry “ Unnumber'd, nameless glories, that surpass “ The Angel's floating pomp, the Seraph's glowing grace ?
“ Shall then your earth-born daughters vie
“ But emulates the di'mond's blaze,
“ 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 Heav'n's eternal
“ year. e Know, Mortals know, ere first ye sprung, w Ere first these orbs in ether hung,
“ I shone amid the heav'nly throng; 66 These eyes behield Creation's day,
“ This voice began the choral lay, u And taught archangels their triumphant song.
“ Pleas'd I survey'd bright Nature's gradual birth, « Saw infant Light with kindling lustre spread,
“ Soft vernal fragrance clothe the flow'ring earth, " And Ocean heave on it's 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,
“ And, as he rose, the high behest was given
“ 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."
ODE TO FANCY.
O PARENT of each lovely muse,
O Nymph with loosely flowing hair, With buskin’d leg, and bosom bare, Thy waist with myrtle-girdle bound, Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd, Waving in thy snowy hand An all commanding magic wand ; Of pow'r to bid fresh gardens grow 'Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow. Whose rapid wings thy flight convey Through air, and over earth and sea, While the various landscape lies Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes ; O lover of the desert, bail! Say in what deep and pathless vale, Orion what hoary mountain's side, 'Midst falls of water you réside, 'Midst broken rocks, a rugged scene, With green and grassy dales between, 'Midst forest dark of aged oak, Ne'er echoing with the woodman's stroke, Where never human art appear’d, Nor e'en one straw-roof'd cot was rear'd, Where Nature seems to sit alone, Majestic on a craggy throne ; Tell me the path, sweet wand'rer tell, To thy unknown, sequester'd cell, Where woodbines cluster round the door, Where shells and moss o’erlay the floor, And on whose top a hawthorn blows, Amid whose thickly woven boughs Some nightingale still builds her nest, Each ev'ning warbling thee to rest : Then lay me by the haunted stream, Rapt in some wild, poetic dream, In converse while methinks I rove With Spenser through a fairy grove ; Till suddenly awak'd I hear Strange whisper'd music in my ear, And my glad soul in bliss is drowu'd, By the sweetly soothing sound !
Me, Goddess, by the right hand lead,
Yet not these flow'ry, fields of joy
Now let us louder strike the lyre,
There whirls me o'er the bills of slain,
O guide me from this horrid scene
When young-ey'd Spring profusely throws
O warm, enthusiastic Maid,
O hear our pray'r! O hither come