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HENRY ROWE

1754-1819

521                                                      Sun

ANGEL, king of streaming morn;
Cherub, calld by Heavn to shine;
T orient tread the waste forlorn;
Guide ætherial, powr divine;
   Thou, Lord of all within!
Golden spirit, lamp of day,
Host, that dips in blood the plain,
Bids the crimsond mead be gay,
Bids the green blood burst the vein;
   Thou, Lord of all within!
Soul, that wraps the globe in light;
Spirit, beckoning to arise;
Drives the frowning brow of night,
Glory bursting oer the skies;
 Thou, Lord of all within!

522                                                     Moon

THEE too, modest tressàed maid,
   When thy fallen stars appear;
When in lawn of fire arrayd
   Sovreign of yon powderd sphere;
To thee I chant at close of day,
Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.
Throned in sapphired ring supreme,
   Pregnant with celestial juice,
On silver wing thy diamond stream
   Gives what summer hours produce;
While viewd impearld earths rich inlay,
Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.
Glad, pale Cynthian wine I sip,
   Breathed the flowry leaves among;
Draughts delicious wet my lip;
   Drownd in nectar drunk my song;
While tuned to Philomel the lay,
Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.

Dew, that odrous ointment yields,
   Sweets, that western winds disclose,
Bathing springs more purpled fields,
   Softs the band that winds the rose;
While oer thy myrtled lawns I stray
Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.

 

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