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We consecrate our total hopes and fears
To idols, flesh and blood, our love, (heaven's due)
Our praise and admiration; praise bestowed
By man on man, and acts of worship done
To a kindred nature, certes do reflect
Some portion of the glory and rays oblique
Upon the politic worshipper,--so man
Extracts a pride from his humility.
Some braver spirits of the modern stamp
Affect a Godhead nearer : these talk loud
Of mind, and independant intellect,
Of energies omnipotent in man,
And man of his own fate artificer ;
Yea of his own life Lord, and of the days
Of his abode on earth, when time shall be,
That life immortal shall become an art,
Or Death, by chymic practices deceived,
Forego the scent, which for six thousand years
Like a good hound he has followed, or at length
More manners learning, and a decent sense
And reverence of a philosophic world,
Relent, and leave to prey on carcasses.

But these are fancies of a few : the rest,
Atheists, or Deists only in the name,
By word or deed deny a God. They eat
Their daily bread, and draw the breath of hearen
Without or thought or thanks; heavens roof to them
Is but a painted ceiling hung with lamps,
No more, that lights them to their purposes.
They wander “ loose about,” they nothing see,
Themselves except, and creatures like themselves,
Short-liv'd, short-sighted, impotent to save.
So on their dissolute spirits, soon or late,
Destruction cometh “ like an armed man,”
Or like a dream of murder in the night,
Withering their mortal faculties, and breaking
The bones of all their pride.

The SONS of GENIUS.

Bright bursting thro' the awful veil of night

The lunar beams upon the ocean play,
The watry billows shine with trembling light

Where the swift breezes skim along the sea.

The glimmering stars in yon etherial plain

Grow pale and fade before the lucid beams Save where fair Venus shining oe'r the main

Conspicuous still with fainter radiance gleams.

Clear is the azure firmament above,
Save where the white cloud floats upon

the breeze, All tranquil is the bosom of the grove

Save where the Zephyr warbles thro' the trees. ·

Now the poor shepherd wandering to his home

Surveys the darkening scene with fearful eye, On every green sees little Elfins roam

And haggard Sprites along the moon-beams fly.

Whilst Superstition rules the vulgar soul,

Forbids the energies of man to rise,
Rais'd far above her low, her mean controul,

Aspiring Genius seeks her native skies.

She loves the silent solitary hours,

She loves the stillness of the starry night, When o'er the brightening view Selene pours

The soft effulgence of her pensive light.

'Tis then disturb'd not by the glare of day

To mild tranquillity alone resign'd, Reason extends her animating sway

O'er the calm empire of the peaceful mind

Before her lucid all-enlightening ray,

The pallid Spectres of the night retire, She drives the gloomy terrors far away

And fills the bosom with celestial fire.

Inspired by her the sons of Genius rise

Above all earthly thoughts, all vulgar care, Wealth, power and grandeur, they alike despise,

Enraptur'd by the good, the great, the fair.

A thousand varying joys to them belong

The charms of Nature and her changeful scenes, Theirs is the music of the vernal song

And theirs the colors of the vernal plains.

Theirs is the purple-tinged evening ray

With all the radiance of the morning sky, Theirs is the splendour of the risen day

Enshrined in glory by the sun's bright eye.

For them the zephyr fans the odorous dale,

For them the warbling streamlet softly flows, For them the Dryads shade the verdant vale,

To them sweet Philomel attunes her woes.

To them no wakeful moon-beam shines in vain

On the dark bosom of the trackless wood, Sheds its mild radiance o'er the desart plain

Or softly glides along the chrystal flood,

Yet rot alone delight the soft and fair

Alike the grander scenes of Nature move, Yet not alone her beauties claim their care,

The great, sublime and terrible, they love.

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