Congenial Hope! thy passion-kindling power, How bright, how strong, in youth's untroubled hour! I see thee light, and wave thy golden wand. "Go, Child of Heav'n! (thy winged words proclaim) 'Tis thine to search the boundless fields of fame! Lo! Newton, priest of Nature, shines afar, Scans the wide world, and numbers ev'ry star! 126 Wilt thou, with him, mysterious rites apply, And watch the shrine with wonder-beaming eye? 130 With Franklin, grasp the lightning's fiery wing. Or yield the lyre of Heav'n another string. 3 "The Swedish sage admires, in yonder bow'rs, 4 135~ His winged insects, and his rosy flow'rs; Calls from their woodland haunts the savage train With sounding horn, and counts them on the plain So once, at Heav'n's command, the wand'rers came 140 "Far from the world, in yon sequester'd clime, Stamps the bright dictates of the father sage; 145 "Turn, Child of Heav'n, thy rapture-lighten'd eye To Wisdom's walks,-the sacred Nine are nigh: 150 Hark! from bright spires that gild the Delphian height, From streams that wander in eternal light, Rang'd on their hill, Harmonia's daughters swell The mingling tones of horn, and harp, and shell; Deep from his vaults the Loxian murmurs flow, ' 155 And Pythia's awful organ peals below. "Belov'd of Heav'n! the smiling Muse shall shed Her moonlight halo on thy beauteous head; Shall swell thy heart to rapture unconfin'd, And breathe a holy madness o'er thy mind. 160 Inquire of guilty wand'rers whence they came, Then weave in rapid verse the deeds they tell, 165 And read the trembling world the tales of hell. "When Venus, thron'd in clouds of rosy hue, Flings from her golden urn the vesper dew, And bids fond man her glimmering noon employ, Sacred to love and walks of tender joy; A milder mood the goddess shall recal, And soft as dew thy tones of music fall; 170 While Beauty's deeply-pictur'd smiles impart 175 "Or wilt thou Orphean hymns more sacred deem, And steep thy song in Mercy's mellow stream; For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile ;— 180 "Yes; to thy tongue shall seraph words be giv'n, And pow'r on earth to plead the cause of Heav'n : The proud, the cold, untroubled heart of stone, That never mus'd on sorrow but its own, Unlocks a generous store at thy command, Like Horeb's rocks beneath the prophet's hand. The living lumber of his kindred earth, 185 Charm'd into soul; receives a second birth; 190 |