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Deaf to the bigot's frantic voice,
Conducts each dubious step by Reason's plan,
Oye! whom Science chose to guide
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,
That breathes along the list'ning groves;
And, whilst he feels its awe divine,
He fondly grasps the vast design.-
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.
ON THE USE OF POETRY.
NOT for themselves did human kind
Yet still the self-depending soul,
Who train'd by laws the future age,
My heart with distant homage views;
Not far beneath the hero's feet,
Though not with public terrors crown'd,
Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame,
Where are they?-Homer's reverend page
And thus when William's acts divine
When Sidney shall with Cato rest,
Yet then shall Shakspeare's powerful art
Confirm his awful throne:
Tyrants shall bow before his laws;
SAY, will no white-rob'd Son of Light,
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
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,
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?
Shall then your earth-born daughters vie
But emulates the diamond's blaze,
Whose cheek but mocks the peach's bloom,
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,
And taught archangels their triumphant song.
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