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ODE TO TRUTH.
SAY, will no 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 adamantine zone.
So Truth proclaims : 'her awful voice I hear : With
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 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,
many a solemn
“ 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. & Know, Mortals know, ere first ye sprung, w Ere first these orbs in ether hung,
“ I shone amid the heav'nly throng; 66 These
beheld Creation's day, “ This voice began the choral lay, “ 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, 6. The tawny lion stalk, the rapid eagle fly.
Last, Man arose, erect in youthful grace, “ Heav'n's hallow'd image stamp'd upon his face ;
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 calld me Trutlı."
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, Or on what hoary mountain's side, 'Midst falls of water you réside, 'Midst broken rocks, a rugged scene, With green
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 bither come