If heaven has into being deign'd to call
Thy light, O Liberty! to shine on all;
Bright intellectual Sun! why does thy ray
Go, peaceful shade! exchange for sin and care
The glorious palm which patient suff'rers wear!
Go, take the meed victorious meekness gains,
O War, What art thou?
After the brightest conquest, what remains
Of all thy glories? For the vanquish'd - chains -
'To rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
Airy spirits, you who love
Cooling bower, or shady grove;
Streams that murmur as they flow,
Here bliss is short, imperfect, insincere,
But total, absolute, and perfect there.
Here time's a moment, short our happiest state,
O Charity, divinely wise,
Thou meek-ey'd Daughter of the skies
From the pure fountain of eternal light,
Where fair, immutable, and ever bright,
VESEY, of Verse the judge and friend,
Awhile my idle strain attend:
Not with the days of early Greece,
O my son!
The ostentatious virtues which still press
For notice and for praise; the brilliant deeds
Which live but in the eye of observation -
Florio, a youth of gay renown,
Who figured much about the town,
Had pass'd, with general approbation,