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Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, The promis'd father of the future age. No more shall nation against nation rise, Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes, Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er, The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more; But useless lances into scythes shall bend, And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end. Then palaces shall rise: the joyful son Shall finish what his short-liv'd sire begun: Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield, And the same hand that sow'd, shall reap the field, The swain in barren deserts with surprise Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise; And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear New falls of water murm’ring in his ear. On rifted rocks, the dragon’s late abodes, The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods: Waste sandy vallies, once perplex’d with thorn. The spiry fir and shapely box adorn : To leafless shrubs the flow’ring palms succeed, And od’rous myrtle to the noisome weed. The lamb with wolves shall graze the verdant mead And boys, in flow’ry bands the tyger lead; The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim’s feet: The smiling infant in his hand shall take The crested basilisk and speckled snake, Pleas'd the green lustre of the scales survey, And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise
ODE ON SOLITUDE.
whitTEN by our AUTHOR, ATA BouT TWELVE YEARs 01.1).
HAPPY the man, whose wish and care
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Bless'd who can unconcern’dly find
Sound sleep by night, study and ease
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
What beck’ning ghost, along the moonlight shade, Invites my step, and points to yonder glade 2 *Tis she —but why that bleeding bosom gor'd 2 Why dimly gleams the visionary sword Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly' tell, Is it in heav’n a crime to love too well? To bear too tender, or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part 2 Is there no bright reversion in the sky For those who greatly think, or bravely die
Why bade ye else, ye pow’rs! her soul aspire
From these perhaps (ere nature bade her die)
As into air the purer spirits flow,
But thou, false guardian of a charge too good, Thou, mean deserter of thy brother’s blood! See on those ruby hips the trembling breath, These cheeks now fading at the blast of death : Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball, Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall: On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates: There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) Lo these were they, whose souls the furies steel'd, And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield, Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools and pageant of a day! So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others good, to melt at others woe.
What can atone, (oh ever-injur’d shade :) Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid No friend’s complaint, no kind domestic tear, Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thymournful bier; By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd,