1909. } 
Hope waves her fymbol from the fun-gilt 
iky, 
And holy Fath looks on withcloudlefs eyem 
And thou, my Soul, to this high at of grace 
Bid all the praife and pride of life give 
lace 5 
Bid unfubftantial joys of earth depart ; 
Bid, from the altar of a contrite heart, 
An incenfe more acceptable arife 
‘Thane’er perfum’d the pompous facrifice, 
Than ever flew, from golden cenfer borne, 
On evening's filent wing, or fragrant breath 
‘ of morn— oan. 
View here the fign of life, and fin forgiven ; 
Here fix thy faith, and build thy hopes of 
Heaven 3 
Here tafte thofe joys that Velney’s fceptic 
Crew, 
That Paine’s unblefs’d difciples never knew 3 
Here catch, my Mufe, a fpark of glory’s fire, 
And roufe to ecftacy the hallow’d lyre ; 
March in the ranks where chriflian banners 
wave, ‘ 
And hail thy Saviour’s viGtory o’er the 
grave. 
And thou inchanter Bard, whofe Mufe di- 
vine 
With holy rapture fir’d this heart of mine ; 
That fmote my bofom with thy tale of woe, 
And bade the tear of pious grief to flow 
For 11m—blefs’d theme of thine infpired lays, 
Whofe Angels ftrung thy harp to found w1s 
praife ; 
Well might thy cherub minftrelfy infpire 
With living harmony fome humbler lyre—s 
Thy dulcet ftrains yet vibrate on my ears, 
And long will charm, and ftill command my 
tears. 
And when my defultory courfe is run, 
And all my works of toil and care be done 3 
When life’s uncertain lamp fhall ceafe to 
burn, 
And to that bourne, whence trav'lers ne’er 
return 
I go-—loft friends, and children lov’d, to fee, 
Now part of heaven’s illuftrious family !—- 
When the—love’s laft dear pledgem-death- 
fmote today !* 
Borne from my houfe—to Paradife, away— 
When the—for whom her mother’s woe-rent 
; breaft 
Feels agony, by language not exprefs’d, 
Upon fome mount of, ever-green may ftand, 
Clofe by the haven of the holy land ; 
When me with gladnefs, and in accents 
mild, 
May thus befpeak my ever-fmiling child— 
** Soul of my earthly Father—-come and 
thare 
“6 Heaven’s blifs with me, and breathe this 
vital air; 
’ “ 
© The author's youngeft child died the 2oth 
jene, 1802. fhe day on whish thefe lines are 
Gated. 
Original Poetry. 
185 
‘¢ Here dwell in peace, where tempefts never 
roar, 
‘* Where life’s pure waters gently kife the 
fhore, ~ \ 
*¢ And on their chryftal waves refle&ted thow 
** The fruits and flowers that on their mar- 
gin grow, 
66 With all the landfcape views that {mile 
% above, 
*¢ The groves of Eden, and the bowers of 
Love== 
6¢ Well pleas’d I faw thee—Death’s rough 
paflage pafs’d, 
«6 To this delightful country come at lat ; 
‘¢ Much pleas’d I faw thy veffel fafely ride 
«© The placid breaft of this unruffled tide 
*¢ By feraph wings upborne Ipflew to thee—w, 
*© Soul of my Father !—-Come, and live with 
me | — 
Then tempeft-driv’n—-to danger long inur’d— 
My wave-tofs’d bark in Heaven’s fafe harbour 
moor’d, 
Riding befide my child’s—=with canvafs furl’d, 
Shelter'd from ftorms, and perils of the 
world— 
Charm’d with the profpeét of the promis’ 
land, 
May I—Hope’s mariner, afcend the ftrand, 
And trace with untir’d eye delighted o’er 
The heav’n-bepitur’d fcenes on Canaan’s 
fhore ; 
Then fing in Cumberland’s immortal lays 
The Saviour’s conflit, and hymn forth his 
praife ; 
Then in the like melodious verfe recount 
The trophies won on Ca/vary’s holy mount 5 
And blefs the bard, who’mid the world’s vaig 
throng, 
Could charm the pilgrim’s ear with fo divine 
a fong. a 
And when the world’s fam’d aétors quit the 
~ ftage ; 
When man’s tumultuous paffions ceafe te 
rage 3 Os 
When evanefcent charms of earth decay, 
And Folly leads mankind no more aftray 3; 
When vain Philofophy, and Pride, and 
Pow’r, 
No longer vaunt in Time’s eventful hour— 
When Hr—once crucified !—-Man’s martyr’d 
Friend ! 
Shall on the clouds of open’d Heaven de- 
fcend, 
Down from the lightning of whofe flaming 
eye 
Night’s fhapelefs phantoms fhall for ever 
fi : 
) 
Scar’d by rae coming, and appearance 
bright, 
Terror’s pale king fhali finally take fight, 
With every {peftre-form that rais’d the fears 
Of timid trav’lers jn life’s vale of tears— 
When Death’s ftrong gates of adamant give 
way, Mey 
And thro’ his dark domiins fhall beam the 
sheerfial dayou eis 
, Thea 
