Epistles.
117
Chiefs grac'd with scars and prodigal of blood,
Stern patriots who for sacred Freedom food, 40
Just men by whom impartial laws were giv'n,
And saints who taught and led the way to heav'n.
Ne'er to these chambers where the mighty rest
Since their foundation came a nobler guest,
Nor e'er was to the bow'rs of bliss convey'd 45
A fairer spirits or more welcome shade.
In what new region to the just assign'd,
What new employments please th' unbody'd mind?
A winged Virtue thro' th' ethereal sky
From world to world unweary'd does he fly, 50
Or curious trace the long laborious maze
Of Heav'n's decrees where wond'ring angels gaze?
Does he delight to hear bold seraph's tell
How Michael battled and the dragon fell,
Or, mix'd with milder cherubim, to glow 55
In hymns of love not ill essay'd below?
Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind?
A task well suited to thy gentle mind.
Oh! if sometimes thy spotless form descend,
To me thy aid, thou guardian Genius! lend. 60
When rage misguides me or when fear alarms,
When pain distresses or when pleasure charms,
In silent whisp'rings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart,
Lead thro' the paths thy virtue trod before, 65
Till bliss shall join nor death can part us more.
Stern patriots who for sacred Freedom food, 40
Just men by whom impartial laws were giv'n,
And saints who taught and led the way to heav'n.
Ne'er to these chambers where the mighty rest
Since their foundation came a nobler guest,
Nor e'er was to the bow'rs of bliss convey'd 45
A fairer spirits or more welcome shade.
In what new region to the just assign'd,
What new employments please th' unbody'd mind?
A winged Virtue thro' th' ethereal sky
From world to world unweary'd does he fly, 50
Or curious trace the long laborious maze
Of Heav'n's decrees where wond'ring angels gaze?
Does he delight to hear bold seraph's tell
How Michael battled and the dragon fell,
Or, mix'd with milder cherubim, to glow 55
In hymns of love not ill essay'd below?
Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind?
A task well suited to thy gentle mind.
Oh! if sometimes thy spotless form descend,
To me thy aid, thou guardian Genius! lend. 60
When rage misguides me or when fear alarms,
When pain distresses or when pleasure charms,
In silent whisp'rings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart,
Lead thro' the paths thy virtue trod before, 65
Till bliss shall join nor death can part us more.
