The Columbiad by Joel Barlow
page 29 of 390 (07%)
page 29 of 390 (07%)
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Ah, lend thy friendly shroud to veil my sight,
That these pain'd eyes may dread no more the light; These welcome shades shall close my instant doom, And this drear mansion moulder to a tornb. Thus mourn'd the hapless man: a thundering sound Roll'd thro the shuddering walls and shook the ground; O'er all the dungeon, where black arches bend, The roofs unfold, and streams of light descend; The growing splendor fills the astonish'd room, And gales etherial breathe a glad perfume. Robed in the radiance, moves a form serene, Of human structure, but of heavenly mien; Near to the prisoner's couch he takes his stand, And waves, in sign of peace, his holy hand. Tall rose his stature, youth's endearing grace Adorn'd his limbs and brighten'd in his face; Loose o'er his locks the star of evening hung, And sounds melodious moved his cheerful tongue: Rise, trembling chief, to scenes of rapture rise; This voice awaits thee from the western skies; Indulge no longer that desponding strain, Nor count thy toils, nor deem thy virtues vain. Thou seest in me the guardian Power who keeps The new found world that skirts Atlantic deeps, Hesper my name, my seat the brightest throne In night's whole heaven, my sire the living sun, My brother Atlas with his name divine Stampt the wild wave; the solid coast is mine. |
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