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When Wit thus spake her sister train:
AN INVITATION TO
THE FEATHERED RACE.
BY THE REV. MR. GRAVES.
AGAIN the balmy Zephyr blows,
Ye gentle warblers! hither fly,
Here freely hop from spray to spray,
Here rove and sing the live-long day,
At night here sweetly rest.
Amidst this cool translucent rill,
Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill,
No school-boy rude, to mischief prone,
E'er shows his ruddy face,
Or twangs a bow, or hurls a stone,
In this sequester'd place.
Hither the vocal Thrush repairs,
Secure the Linnet sings,
The Goldfinch dreads no slimy snares
Sad Philomel! ah, quit thy haunt
Yon distant woods among,
And round my friendly grotto chaunt
Let not the harmless Redbreast fear,
And seek a sure asylum here,
With one that loves his home.
My trees for you, ye artless tribe,
Oh, let me thus your friendship bribe!
For you these cherries I protect,
To you these plums belong :
Let then this league betwixt us made
Mine be the gift of fruit and shade,
ODE TO TRUTH.
SAY, will no-white-robed son of light,
And you, ye hosts of saints! for ye have known
To break with mercy's beam this gathering cloud of fate?
'Tis silence all. No son of light
Darts swiftly from his heavenly height;
Mortals, in vain ye hope to find,
Or saint to hear, or angel to defend."
So truth proclaims: her awful voice I hear;
Attend, ye sons of men! attend, and say, Does not enough of my refulgent ray Break through the veil of your mortality? Say, does not reason in this form descry Unnumber'd, nameless glories, that surpass
The angel's floating pomp, the seraph's glowing grace? Shall then your earth-born daughters vie
With me! Shall she, whose brightest eye
But emulates the diamond's blaze,
Whose cheek but mocks the peach's bloom,
Whose melting voice the warbling woodlark's lays,
Of elemental dross, of mouldering clay,
Vie with these charms imperial? The poor worm Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day
Shall pass, and she is gone: while I appear
Flush'd with the bloom of youth through heaven's eternal
Know, mortals! know, ere first ye sprung,
And taught Archangels their triumphant song.
Soft vernal fragrance clothe the flowering earth,
Should reign protectress of the godlike youth."
Thus the Almighty spake: he spake, and call'd me Truth.