Truth ever lovely - since the world began, The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man.

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.

But sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.

One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.

The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.