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Through walls of stone those furious bullets may
The fame of Friendship, which so long had told
HYMN TO LIGHT.
FIRST-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come
The melancholy mass put on kind looks and smil'd;
Thou tide of glory, which no rest dost know,
Thou golden shower of a true Jove' [love! Who does in thee descend, and heaven to earth make
Hail, active Nature's watchful life and health !
Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty bridegroom
Say from what golden quivers of the sky
'T is, I believe, this archery to show,
Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly bow.
Swift as light thoughts their empty career run,
And thou the goal of earth shalt reach as soon as he.
Thou in the moon's bright chariot, proud and gay,
Of thousand flowery lights thineown nocturnalspring.
Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands above
And still, as thou in pomp dost go, The shining pageants of the world attend thy show.
Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn
(O greatness without pride 1) the bushes of the field.
Night, and her ugly subjects, thou dost fright,
They skreen their horrid shapes with the black hemi
With them there hastes, and wildly takes th' alarm,
The various clusters break, the antick atoms fly.
The guilty serpents, and obscener beasts,
Ill omens and ill sights removes out of thy way.
At thy appearance, Grief itself is said
A gentle beamy smile, reflected from thy look.
At thy appearance, Fear itself grows bold;
Encourag'd at the sight of thee, To the cheek colour comes, and firmness to the knee.
Ev’n Lust, the master of a harden'd face,
In sympathizing night he rolls his smoky fires.
When, Goddess! thou lift'st up thy waken'd head,
And all the joyful world salutes the rising day.
The ghosts, and monster-spirits, that did presume
And bodies gain again their visibility.
All the world's bravery, that delights our eyes,
Thy nimble pencil paints this landscape as thougo'st.
A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st;
Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light.
The violet, Spring's little infant, stands
On the fair tulip thou dost doat; Thou cloth'st it in a gay and parti-colour'd coat.
With flame condens'd thou dost thy jewels fix,
Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she.
Ah, Goddess! would thou couldst thy hand withhold,
To me the sun is more delightful far,
Who do not gold prefer, O Goddess! ev'n to thee.
Through the soft ways of heaven, and air, and sea,
But, where firm bodies thy free course oppose,
Of colours mingled light, a thick and standing lake.