V

Back flows the willing current of my Song: If to provoke such doom the Impious dare, Why should it daunt a blameless prayer? --Bold Goddess! range our Youth among; Nor let thy genuine impulse fail to beat In hearts no longer young; Still may a veteran Few have pride In thoughts whose sternness makes them sweet; In fixed resolves by Reason justified; That to their object cleave like sleet Whitening a pine tree's northern side, When fields are naked far and wide, And withered leaves, from earth's cold breast Up-caught in whirlwinds, nowhere can find rest.