Nor on surrounding pleasures wastes a smile--
Whate'er events the tide of time may swell,
His only care, to act or suffer well.
What tho' malignant foes innumerous scowl,
Tho' mortals hiss, and fiends around him howl?
Yet, higher powers, the guardians of his life,
With sacred transport watch the godlike strife;
Yet Heaven, with all her thousand eyes, looks down,
And binds her martyr with a deathless crown.

"When the last pang the struggling spirit sends
Far from the circle of his mourning friends,
And, bathed with many a tear, the hallow'd bust
Protects the mouldering body of the just;
Oh! with what rapture, mounting, he descries
Scenes of unutterable glory rise,
With trembling hope bows to his heavenly Lord,
And hears with awful joy th' absolving word!
Oh! with what speed he flies, dismiss'd to stray
Thro' the vast regions of eternal day;
Creation's various wonders to explore,
A radiant sea of light, without a shore!
Then, too, that spark of intellectual fire
Which burn'd thro' life, and never shall expire,
Which, oft' on earth deplored its bounded view,
And still from sphere to sphere excursive flew,
The mind, upborne on intuition's wings,
Thro' Truth's bright regions, momentary, springs,
And, piercing at one view the maze of fate,
Smiles at the darkness of her former state!