E'en though I gained that mountain's fabled height,
Where Music breathes the soul of warm delight,
I'd ask not power thy wondrous might to sing,
So far beyond my thought's sublimest spring,
But send one beam of that celestial blaze,
That round thy brow in dazzling lustre plays,
One ray to gild the gloom of mental night,
And burst its shroud with thy refulgent light.
AN INVOCATION TO POVERTY.
BY CHARLES JAMES FOX, ESQ.
Oh, Poverty! of pale, consumptive hue,
If thou delight'st to haunt me still in view;
If still thy presence must my steps attend,
At least continue as thou art—my friend!
Whene'er example bids me be unjust,
False to my word—or faithless to my trust;
Bid me the baneful error quickly see,
And shun the world, to find repose in thee:
When vice to wealth would turn my partial eye,
Or interest shut my ear to sorrow's cry,
Or courtiers' custom would my reason bend,
My foe to flatter—or desert my friend;
Oppose, kind Poverty, thy tempered shield,
And bear me off unvanquished from the field.
If giddy Fortune e'er return again,
With all her idle, restless, wanton train;
Her magic glass should false Ambition hold;
Or Avarice bid me put my trust in gold;
To my relief, thou virtuous goddess, haste,
And with thee bring thy daughters ever chaste,
Health! Liberty! and Wisdom! Sisters bright!
Whose charms can make the worst condition light,
Beneath the hardest fate the mind can cheer,
Can heal Affliction, and disarm Despair!
In chains, in torments, Pleasure can bequeath,
And dress in smiles the tyrant hour of Death!
GLORY TO GOD.
To thee, PROTECTIVE God, I owe,
All that I have, or hope, or know,
Each ray of mind that seems to shine
Is but a clouded gleam from thine.
The lust'red heavens present thy zone,
The peopled earth thy living throne,
The globe, which nature holds of thee,
Is bound by thy infinity.