OF POEWIC CHA'RACTER. 87 Yet only as the altar, whence ascends His heart's best incense to her Deity. Ev'n in the storm h!s spirit can rejoice, For in the wind--the thunder's awful roll-- He recog?es still a father's voice, Which rules the bolder passions of his soul. Around him while the moral Virtues stand, While braided dance the sister-Graces twine, Religion marshals all the lovely band, And bids their robes with purer radiance shine. His is the ardor more than heroes prove, Or-raptur'd Bards, that chaunt their lofty deeds, On Fancy's eagle-wings he soars above, . Or with the martyr triumphs as he bleeds. And, ifhis soul to tender sadness melt, No selfish woes his pensive thoughts employ, And, if th' inspiring touch of bliss be felt, The smile of Conscience ratifies the joy. Oh, who in secret, more than he, could pant F6r somewhat mocking still his search below, And droop, while some unutterable want Made worthless all, that Fortune could bestow ? ......... ?Google
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