Oh, shed a glory round my rugged lyre—

Hallow the feeble strains that would reveal

The dazzling light, which streaming from thy wings,

Gilds all the dark and troubled tide of thought.

Lifted by thee above the gulf of time

My eye explores the regions of the blessed,

And hopes long chained to earth are raised to heaven.

Never, while reason holds her steady rein,

To curb imagination's fiery steeds,

May I to joyless apathy resign

The high and holy thoughts inspired by thee!

[Pg 25]

[Pg 25]

FAME.

Oh ye! who all life's energies combine

The fadeless laurel round your brows to twine,

Pause but one moment in your brief career,

Nor seek for glory in a mortal sphere.

Can figures traced upon the shifting sand

Washed by the mighty tide, its force withstand?

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