« PreviousContinue »
Canst thou with Freedoni's sons rejoice
'Mid tyrants undismay'd ?
And baffle reason's aid?
Canst thou, with pity mov'd, bewail
And fond believing heart?
Where learning, taste, and love combine, A nobler flame impart?
The Muse in mild melodious lays
And each wild wish disarms;
And add to Beauty's charms.
Should Hope her lenient aid refuse,
One sadden'd scene of woe;
Unnumber'd raptures flow.
Music her sister arts may aid,
Reflect her mutual fire;
The Pencil, Muse, and Lyre.
BY THE REV. MR. HUDSON.
Soul of the world, first mover, say, From thee what glorious being came, Powerful to raise this universal frame?
Who taught the ponderous wheels to play? Gave beauty to look forth with radiant eyes, And cloath'd with ambient day the chrystal skies? 'Twas Concord, who enthron'd above,
With sevenfold adamantine chains
The path of wandering orbs restrains,
And walks the courts of genuine light,
Nor is she to the heavens confin'd;
Forth on the morning's wing she rides,
And leaves the setting sun behind.
The love-lorn bird divides her song,
The soft Aute sooths the rural throng,
Where the ingenuous chorus sings,
From the gilt roof the symphony rebounds;
The buxom air, the saphire main,
But chief is thy delight to dwell
Favour and friendship meet thee there,
There halcyon peace securely broods, And meek tranquillity attends To quell unruly rage, and sooth the swelling floods.
Now by the magic of thy tongue,
That call’d up first the rolling spheres,
Thro' the gay circle of revolving years,
With rapturous sounds of mystic song, Attun'd in heavenly harmony to run: And by the virtue of th' enchanting zone, Which when the fair Idalian
queen Accepts, with universal sway
The smiles and winning passions play In her resistless look and mien;
The loves the heavenly gift admire, And tip their little darts with lambent fire; Fresh wreaths the graces bring, and form the round, Where rising daisies mark the measur'd ground.
Now by the rosy mildness sweet,
Of which when youthful Spring awakes, From thy abundance amply she partakes,
What time the silk-plum'd zephyrs meet In Saba's groves, to kiss the bending blooms With balmy lips, and wanton in perfumes; And by the ripened, redolent grace,
When Summer in the Persian fields
To sober-seeming Autumn yields Her treasures on the loaded sprays,
The sky-rob’d plum, the purple vine, The velvet peach, and damask nectarine; While Plenty, waving her Hesperian bough, Gladdens Pomona with the golden show.
Great goddess ! with the words of peace Bid this wild uproar of contention cease ;