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Paradise of earthly bliss,
Heav'n o'th' other world, and this!
Tell me where thy court abides ?
Where thy glorious chariot rides?

Eden knew thee for a day,
But thou would'ft no longer ftay;
Outed for poor Adam's fin,
By the Aaming cherubim ;
Yet thou lov'st that happy shade
Wherethy beauteous form was made;
And thy kindness still remains
To the woods and flow'ry plains.

Happy David found thee there,
Sporting in the open air,
As he led his focks along,
Feeding on his rural song ;
But when courts and honours had
Snatch'd

away the lovely lad, Thou who there no room could'ft find, Let him go, and Atay'd behind.

His wise son, with care and pain,
Search'd all nature's frame in vain ;
For a while, moft anxious, he
Search'd it round, but found not thice :
Beauty own’d the knew thee not ;
Plenty had thy name forgot ;
Music only did aver,
Once you came and dane'd with her.

All the world still hunt about :
Happy he who finds thee out !
Some have dream'd thou still doft sit
Circl'd round with Mirth and Wit.
In a cloyster or a pew,
Others always seek for you ;
But their search alike is vain ;
These morose, and those profane.

The mother only, with fond care,
Hugs her child, and finds thee there ;
Kisses whilst alleep it lies, ,
And

upon

it feafts her eyes,

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'Till the little bantling came
Just to lisp its mammy's name;
Then her airy hopes decay,
Like visionary thades, away.

Oh! then, Contentment,
Since thy throne thou dost not place
In a palace, or a face :
Since thou coyly paffeft by
Pleasures, riches, harmonyi
Since we cannot find thee out
With the witty, or devout ;
Since I here of thee despair,
I'll aim at Hear'n, and find thee there,

H.

Ode to Truth. SAY, will no white-rob’d Son of Light, Swift darting from his heav'nly height,

Here

Here deign to take his hallow'd

stand;

Here wave his ainber locks ; unfold

His pinions cloath'd with downy gold; Here smiling stretch his tutelary wand ? And you, ye host of faints, for ye have

known Each dreary path in life's perplexing maze, Tho' now ye

'éternal throne With harpings high of inexpreflive praise, Will not your train descend in radiant

ftate, To break with Mercy's beam this gathering

cloud of Fate?

circle yon

'Tis filence all. No Son of Light Darts swiftly from his heav'nly height:

No train of radiant Saints defcend. • Mortals, in vain ye hope to find, • If guilt, if fraud has stain’d your mind, • Or Saint to hear, or Angel to de

fend.'

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So Truth proclaims. I hear the sacred

found Burst from the centre of her burning throne: Where aye the fits with star-wreath'd lus

tre crown'd: A bright Sun clasps her adamantine zone.. So Truth proclaims : her awful voice I

hear : With many a solemn pause it slowly meets

iny car.

! Attend, ye fons 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

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