Rapt to the shrine where motion first began, And light and life in mingling torrent ran; From whence each bright rotundity was hurl'd, The throne of God,-the centre of the world! Oh! vainly wise, the moral Muse hath sung That suasive Hope hath but a Syren tongue! True; she may sport with life's untutor❜d day, Nor heed the solace of its last decay, The guileless heart her happy mansion spurn, And part, like Ajut-never to return! & But yet, methinks, when Wisdom shall assuage The grief and passions of our greener age, Each flower that hail'd the dawning of the day; Yet o'er her lovely hopes, that once were dear, The time-taught spirit, pensive, not severe, With milder griefs her aged eye shall fill, And weep their falsehood, though she love them still! Thus, with forgiving tears, and reconciled, Oh! that for thee thy father could have died! Unfading Hope! when life's last embers burn, When soul to soul, and dust to dust return! Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour! Oh! then, thy kingdom comes! Immortal Power! The morning dream of life's eternal day- And all the phoenix spirit burns within! Oh! deep-enchanting prelude to repose, The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes! It is a dread and awful thing to die! Mysterious worlds, untravell'd by the sun! Where Time's far wandering tide has never run, 8 From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres, A warning comes, unheard by other ears. 'Tis Heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud, Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud! And, like the trembling Hebrew, when he trod The roaring waves, and call'd upon his God, With mortal terrors clouds immortal bliss, And shrieks, and hovers o'er the dark abyss! Daughter of Faith, awake, arise, illume The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb; Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of dismay, Chased on his night-steed by the star of day! And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes. Wild as that hallow'd anthem sent to hail Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale, When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion hill! Soul of the just! companion of the dead! Where is thy home, and whither art thou fled? |