VIII.

Hymen's torch with hallow'd fire
Rising beams th' auspicious ray.
Wake the dance, the festive lyre
Warbling sweet the nuptial lay;
Gay with beauties, once alluring,
Bid the bright Enchantress move,
Eyes that languish, smiles of rapture,
And the rosy blush of love.
On her glowing breast reclining,
Mid that paradise of charms,
Every blooming grace combining,
Yielded to my circling arms,

I clasp the Fair, and kindling at the view,
Press to my heart the dear deceit, and think the

transport true.

IX.

Hence, false delusive dreams,

Fantastic hopes and mortal passions vain!

Ascend, my soul to nobler themes

Of happier import and sublimer strain.

Rising from this sphere of night,

Pierce yon blue vault, ingemm'd with golden fires;

Beyond where Saturn's languid car retires,
Or Sirius keen outvies the solar ray,

To worlds from every dross terrene refined,
Realms of the pure, ethereal mind,

Warm with the radiance of unchanging day:
Where Cherub-forms and Essences of light,
With holy song and heavenly rite,
From rainbow clouds their strains immortal pour ;
An earthly guest, in converse high,
Explore the wonders of the sky,

From orb to orb with guides celestial soar,

And take, through heaven's wide round, the Univer

sal tour.

X.

And find that mansion of the blest,

Where rising ceaseless from this lethal stage, [ed, Heaven's favorite sons, from earthly chains releas

In happier Eden pass th' eternal age.

The newborn soul beholds th' angelic face
Of holy Sires, that throng the blissful plain,
Or meets his consort's loved embrace,
Or clasps the son, so lost, so mourn'd in vain.
There, charm'd with each endearing wile,
Maternal fondness greets her infant's smile

Long-sever'd friends, in transport doubly dear, Unite and join th' interminable train

And hark! a well-known voice I hear,

I spy my sainted friend! I meet my Howe* again!

XI.

Hail, sacred shade! for not to dust consign'd,
Lost in the grave, thine ardent spirit lies,
Nor fail'd that warm benevolence of mind
To claim the birthright of its native skies.
What radiant glory and celestial grace,
Immortal meed of piety and praise!
Come to my visions, friendly shade,
'Gainst all assaults my wayward weakness arm,
Raise my low thoughts, my nobler wishes aid,
When passions rage, or vain allurements charm ;
The pomp of learning and the boast of art,
The glow, that fires in genius' boundless range,
The pride, that wings the keen, satiric dart,
And hails the triumph of revenge.

* Rev. Joseph Howe, pastor of a church in Boston, sometime a fellow-tutor with the author at Yale-College. He died in 1775. The conclusion of the Ode was varied, by inserting this tribute o affection.

Teach me, like thee, to feel and know Our humble station in this vale of woe, Twilight of life, illumed with feeble ray, The infant dawning of eternal day; With heart expansive, through this scene improve The social soul of harmony and love;

To heavenly hopes alone aspire and prize

The virtue, knowledge, bliss and glory of the skies.

A FABLE.