Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.

Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.