The still small voice of gratitude.

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

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.

Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour The bad affright, afflict the best!

The different steps and degrees of education may be compared to the artificer's operations upon marble; it is one thing to dig it out of the quarry, and another to square it, to give it gloss and lustre, call forth every beautiful spot and vein, shape it into a column, or animate it into a statue.

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.