When eve thy azure book expands,

He sees in starry letters bright, The work of thy eternal hands ;

Great Sovereign of etherial light. With heaven's effulgent type, serene

The beauteous rainbow's cheering ray, Imprint upon his soul the scene

That opens in celestial day.
And when this earthly mouldering form

Is lock'd in death's cold icy chase ;
Oh! save his spirit from the storm

That hurls the vicious from thy face. And oh! when thy last trump shall sound,

And bid the slumbering dust arise ; May he be in the columns found,

That form the pages of the skies.

XXIII. LIBERTY TO ATHENS,

AN ODE, BY DR. PERCIVAL.
The flag of freedom floats once more

Around the lofty Parthenon ;
It waves, as waved the palm of yore,

In days departed long and gone ;
As bright a glory, from the skies,

Pours down its light around those tow'rs, And once again the Greeks arise,

As in their country's noblest hours ; Their swords are girt in virtue's cause,

Minerva's sacred hill is free0! may she keep her equal laws,

While man shall live, and time shall be. The pride of all her shrines went down ;

The Goth, the Frank, the Turk, had reft The laurel from her civic crown ;

Her helm by many a sword was cleft: She lay among the ruins low

Where grew the palm, the cypress rose ; And, crush'd and bruis'd by many a blow,

She cowerd beneath her savage foes ; But now again she springs from earth,

Her loud, awakening trumpet speaks ; She rises in a brighter birth,

And sounds redemption to the Greeks.

It is the classic jubilee-

Their servile years have roll'd away; The clouds that hover'd o'er them flee,

They hail the dawn of freedom's day; From Heaven the golden light descends,

The times of old are on the wing, And glory there her pinion bends,

And beauty wakes a fairer spring; The hills of Greece, her rocks, her waves,

Are all in triumph's pomp arrayed; A light that points their tyrants' graves, Plays round each bold Athenian's blade. The Parthenon, the sacred shrine,

Where wisdom held her pure abode : The hill of Mars, where light divine

Proclaim'd the true, but unknown God; Where justice held unyielding sway,

And trampled all corruption down, And onward took her lofty way

To reach at truth's unfading crown: The rock, where liberty was full,

Where eloquence her torrents roll'd, And loud, against the despot's rule,

A knell the patriot's fury toll'd: The stage whereon the drama spake,

In tones that seem'd the words of heav'n, Which make the wretch in terror shake, As by avenging furies driv'n: The groves and gardens, where the fire Of wisdom, as a fountain, burn'd, And every eye, that dar'd aspire

To truth, has long in worship turn'd: The halls and porticos, where trod

The moral sage, severe, unstain'd, And where the intellectual god

In all the light of science reign'd: The schools, where rose in symmetry

The simple, but majestic pile, Where marble threw its roughness by,

To glow, to frown, to weep, to smile, Where colours made the canvas live,

Where music roll'd her flood along, And all the charms that art can give,

Were blent with beauty, love and song; The port from whose capacious womb

Her navies took their conquering road, The heralds of an awful doom

To all, who would not kiss her rod;

On these a dawn of glory springs,

These trophies of her brighter fame ; Away the long-chain'd city flings

Her weeds, her shackles, and her shame; Again her ancient souls awake,

Harmodious bares anew his sword; Her sons in wrath their fetters break, And freedom is their only lord.

First we'll pledge the shrouded dead;
Those who loved and were so dear,
Those for whom our bosoms bled:

Let us pledge them with a tear!
Let us pledge their grassy graves:

Be their slumbers sweet and blest,
Where the weeping willow waves,

O'er their lonely place of rest.
Fill the bowl, again, again,

Let us pledge our early hours—
Why pour out a mournful strain

O'er our being's faded flowers?
No, we'll bathe their memory
In a flood of mellow wine;
Though our joys have ceased to be,
'Twere a folly to repine.

Let us pledge our countless foes,

Be their hatred what it may;
If they chase our steps too close
They'll find lion-hearts at bay!

None are left who wish us well

On this wide and dreary earth ; Let our spirits proudly swell,

As we plege each other's worth.
We have tried life's varied round,

In the dance and festival ;
We have culled the flowers we found,

And have proved them worthless all!
We have worn the wreath of love

Till we found it ralueless; We have worn it but to prove

'Tis not that of happiness. We have studied woman's heart,

We have sunned us in her smile, We have burst her bonds apart,

For we found her vain and vile. Fill the goblet full and high,

There is pleasure on each brow; By our strong and mystic lie

Let us pledge each other now! When the grass shall o'er mo grow,

Thou wilt pledge my memory ; And if thou art first to go,

I will do the same for thee.