Why, why is it condemned in this dull cell to pine?
For there, and there alone,
Are peace, and joy, and never-dying love;
There, on a splendid throne,
’Midst all those fires above,
In glories and delights which never wane nor move.
Oh, wondrous blessedness!
Whose shadowy effluence hope o’er time can fling;
Day that shall never cease,
No night there threatening,