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Wrapp'd in a cloud, a rainbow o'er thy head;
Thy face sun-bright, with limbs of fearful fire,
Thy form descended, on the prostrate deep

Thy right foot planted, and with thunder-voice

To heaven did swear,-that TIME SHOULD BE NO

MORE!

Elysian race! while o'er their slumbering flocks The Galilean shepherds watch'd, ye came

To sing Hosannahs to the heaven-born babe,
And shed the brightness of your beauty round:
Nor have ye left the world, but still unseen
Surround the earth, as guardians of the good,
Inspiring souls, and leading them to heaven!
And oh when shadows of the state unknown
Advance, and Life endures the grasp of Death,
'Tis yours to hallow and illume the mind,
The starry wreath to bring, by angels worn,
And crown the Spirit for her native sphere.

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Oh! weep not that the clouded eye

No shining thought can speak;

And fresh and fair no longer lie

Joy-tints upon the cheek:

No! weep not that the ruin-trace

Of wasting time is seen,

Around the form and in the face,

Where beauty's lines have been :—

But mourn the INWARD wreck we feel,

As blighted years depart,

And Time's benumbing fingers steal

Young feelings from the heart!

Those joyous thoughts that rise and spring

From out the buoyant mind,

Like summer bees upon the wing,

Or echoes on the wind.

The hopes that sparkle every hour,

Like blossoms from a soul

Where Sorrow sheds no blighting power,

And Care has no control,

With all the rich enchantment thrown

On life's fair scene around,

As if the world within a zone

Of happiness were bound!

Oh! these endure a mournful doom,

As day by day they die;

Till age becomes a barren tomb

Where perish'd feelings lie!

March, 1828.

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