POETRY. 911 



On adamant was fix'd her simple thron6. 

 No gaud)' ornaments around it shone ; 

 No gold, emboss'd on iv'ry, shot a blaze; 

 No diamond sparkled with alternate rays. 

 But, graceful sculpture deck'd the modest seat 

 With emblems chaste, and elegantly neat. 

 The sceptre Reason bore that can assuage 

 The bursting passions, and subtlue their rage. 

 On her right hand Religion held the book 



• ••if 



"Whose periods flow from Inspiration's brook. 



When knowledge fail'd, and darkling doubts perplext, 



Religiim bade her hear the sacred text, 



Dispell'd the clouds, and open'd to her view, 



The realms of light, and bliss for ever new. 



Experience, on her left, the fruits display 'd. 



Her sure instructions to our race convey *d; 



Abundance rising from the fertile plains, 



The guiltless wealth which Industry obtains; 



All, Art bestows to polish, and improve, 



Man's ills to lighten, or their cause remove. 



Before her, Happiness, in sweetest strain, 



Sung all the joys that follow in her train; 



Health, competence; the conscience void of fear; 



The will to heav'n resign'd; the judgment clear; 



Th' unblemish'd name ; affection ; mutual trust ; 



And hope that springs above, and spurns the dust, 



While these she sung, she cast her look on high, 



Tlie roof disclosing a cerulean sky; 



And breathing odours round the palace flew, 



Such as the rose dispenses, fresh with dew. 



Philemon, thus, th' approving Goddess hail'd: 



" Advance; thy patient labours have prevail'd. 



'• None reach the palace where my power resides, 



" But sucli as love of truth impels, and guides. , 



•' Thee I receive, and register as mine; 



" To guard the glorious privilege be thine!" 



The Youth, this vision shown to Fancy's eye. 

 Adhered to Truth, and spurn'd the Sophist's lie. 



Those principles, which on the heart engrav'd, 

 Have mad Opinion's shifting tempests brav'd. 

 Which, undefac'd by manners, or by times, 

 By revolutions and their train of crimes, 

 Man, civiliz'd or savage, still has felt. 

 And will retain, till Nature's fabric melt — 

 These in the holy shrine of Conscience laid 

 No doubt could soil, no sophistry invade. 



AN 



