I

Bold Spirit! who art free to rove Among the starry courts of Jove, And oft in splendour dost appear Embodied to poetic eyes, While traversing this nether sphere, Where Mortals call thee ENTERPRISE. Daughter of Hope! her favourite Child, Whom she to young Ambition bore, When hunter's arrow first defiled The grove, and stained the turf with gore; Thee wingèd Fancy took, and nursed On broad Euphrates' palmy shore, And where the mightier Waters burst From caves of Indian mountains hoar! She wrapped thee in a panther's skin; And Thou, thy favourite food to win, The flame-eyed eagle oft would scare From her rock-fortress in mid air, With infant shout; and often sweep, Paired with the ostrich, o'er the plain; Or, tired with sport, wouldst sink asleep Upon the couchant lion's mane! With rolling years thy strength increased; And, far beyond thy native East, To thee, by varying titles known As variously thy power was shown, Did incense-bearing altars rise, Which caught the blaze of sacrifice, From suppliants panting for the skies!