Ode Third, Composed by Paul Allen, Esq

Content, thou dear object of all our desires, To thee the fond bosom with rapture aspires; Poor mortals deluded thy phantom pursue; We never possess, tho' we keep thee in view.

Had Adam, our father, thy beauty but known, Serene as the morning his days would have flown, All nations and ages had bow'd to thy reign, Nor pity's soft Angel would ever complain.

Dame Nature foresaw what her sons would endure, And like a fond parent provided a cure; She call'd fair Invention her aid to impart, That handmaid of Science and glory of Art.

Fair Science that lately in caverns unknown, Repin'd like a vestal, forlorn and alone; On wings of Invention exulting shall rise, And measure her flight with the bounds of the skies.

Those men whom the love of their country has fir'd Who smil'd in the arms of applause, and expir'd; From tombs more resplendently rise to the views, Applauded by Senates, and sung by the Muse.

All hail then, Invention, thy blessings bestow, To brighten the prospects of mortals below; The Arts and the Sciences both shall combine, With chaplets of glory to cover thy shrine.