24
THE INVITATION.
Draw the dread veil that wraps th' eternal throne,
And launch our ſouls into the bright unknown.
Here ceaſe my ſong. Such arduous themes require
A maſter's pencil, and a poet's fire:
Unequal far ſuch bright deſigns to paint,
Too weak her colours, and her lines too faint,
My drooping Muſe folds up her fluttering wing,
And hides her head in the green lap of ſpring.
The
