Songs, Song

When my divine Althea's charms, No more shall kindle soft alarms, And the keen light'ning of her eye, Passes unfelt unheeded by; When moral Beauty's heavenly form Shall cease the frozen soul to warm; When manners thus corrupt we see, Farewel the sweets of Masonry.

When science shall withdraw her light, And error spread a Gothick night; When Pity's sacred source is dry, No pearly doop to melt the eye, When truth shall hide her blushing head, And famish'd virtue beg her bread; When manners thus corrupt we see, Farewel the sweets of masonry!

But while the fair transport our sight, And moral beauty's charms delight; while science lifts her torch on high, And pity thaws the melting eye; While Truth maintains despotic power, And virtue charms without a dower; While manners thus unstain'd we see, All hail the sweets of Masonry!