Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/191

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Behold the Apostle of the Cross sublime, The warn'd of heaven, the eloquent, the bold, Who spake to Athens in her hour of prime, Braving the thunders of Olympus old, And spreading forth the Gospel's snowy fold, Where heathen altars pour'd a crimson tide, And stern tribunals their decrees unroll'd, How would his zeal rebuke our irigrate pride, If ye should sue to us and coldly be denied.

Explores your eagle-glance that weaker band Who bear the burdens of domestic care ? Who guide the distaff with a patient hand, And trim the evening hearth with cheerful air ? Point ye the Attic maid, the matron fair, The blooming child devoid of letter 'd skill ? What would ye ask ? Wild winds the answer bear, In blended echoes from the Aonian hill, " Give them the book of God? " Immortal shades ! we will.

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