XVIII.

Yes! still to thee, our Father and our King
Let the pure incense of our souls arise;

And where so fervent shall that homage spring
As in thine own great Temple of the skies,
While all around thy good creation lies,
And all thy bounties in thy works we see;
There teach our spirits early to be wise,

That thou art in all things, and all in thec,

That in thy wisdom Thou hast caus'd them all to be!

1805.

TO RUSSIA.

THOU wide-ruling Queen! whose extended domain

Encircles the uttermost Pole,

Where the storm and the merciless hurricane reign And the thunders incessantly roll;

O thou! who for ages in darkness wert lost,

Of existence unconscious, and dead to renown,

While the souls of thy people were cold as thy frost, Content on the seas of oblivion tost

To be drifted inglorious down.

Tho' deep were thy slumbers and dark was the night That veil'd thine ineffable blaze,

Thou didst burst in an instant, O Russia, to light, And the wide world look'd on with amaze.

In splendor majestic, and innocent state,

Midst the nations it saw thee triumphantly tow'r, Thou didst mingle thy voice in the awful debate, The weak gather'd under thy wing, and the great Wither'd up at the sight of thy pow'r.

Ye men of the desert! Brave sons of the North, Who rush like your wolves to the fight,

O stretch the dread arm of your puissance forth
And awaken your slumbering might!

From your regions of darkness and ice-fetter'd lands,
With the mantle of winter for ever embrown'd,
Let the outcries of Liberty summon your bands,
For the pray'r of the righteous shall strengthen
your hands,

And your blood shall cry out from the ground.

And sweet o'er the moss-cover'd graves of your

Shall hymns of thanksgiving arise,

And posterity's blessings shall hallow the bed

Where the queller of tyranny lies.

dead

Like the tempest that buffets the mountainous wave

Roll dauntlessly on the fair ranks of your pride,

Your array the last hope of the long-shackled brave, Your leader the Being who only can save,

The Ruler of Battles your guide.

1806.

FINIS.

Printed by Taylor 5, Lamb's Conduit Passage.