« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
Romantic wish! would this the daughter were!"
When, strict enquiring, from herself he found She was the same, the daughter of his friend, Of bountiful Acasto; who can speak The mingled passions that surprised his heart, And through his nerves in shivering transport ran! Then blazed his smother'd flame, avow'd, and bold, And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, Love, Gratitude, and Pity, wept at once. Confused, and frighten’d at his sudden tears, Her rising beauties flash'd a higher bloom, As thus Palemon, passionate and just, Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul:
" And art thou then Acasto’s dear remains ? She, whom my restless gratitude has sought So long in vain ? O heavens! the very same, The soften'd image of my noble friend ; Alive his every look, his every feature, More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than spring! Thou sole surviving blossom from the root That nourish'd up my fortune! Say, ah, where, In what sequester'd desert, hast thou drawn The kindest aspect of delighted heaven? Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair, Though poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain, Beat keen and heavy on thy tender years ? O let me now into a richer soil Transplant thee safe! wbere vernal suns and showers
Diffuse their warmest, largest influence;
Here ceased the youth : yet still his speaking eye
Who flourish'd long in tender bliss, and rear'd A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves, And good, the grace of all the country round.
THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.
FATHER of all! in every age,
In every clime adored,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.
Thou great First Cause least understood !
Who all my sense confined,
And that myself am blind :
Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
That, more than heaven pursue.
What blessings thy free bounty gives,
Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives,
Tenjoy is to obey.
Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound; Or think thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round.
Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land
On each I judge thy foe,
If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay;
To find that better way.
Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,
Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken’d by thy breath; O lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day's life or death.
This day, be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun,
And let thy will be done.
To thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! One chorus let all beings raise !
Al nature's incense rise!
WHEN Music, heavenly maid! was young,