1820.
Though waves in every breeze . . .
[212] 1827.
Re-open now thy everlasting gates,
Thou Fane of Holy Writ! ye classic Domes,
To these glad orbs from darksome bondage freed,
Unfold again your portals! Passage lies
Through you to heights more glorious still, and shades
More awful, where this Darling of my care,
Advancing with me hand in hand, may learn,