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The branches bend laden with life and blifs
Hold fast the golden chain let down from heaven, 'Twill help your feet and wings; I feel its force Draw upwards; falten'd to the pearly gate
It guides the way unerring: Happy clue
Through this dark wild! 'Twas wisdom's nobleft work, All join'd by power divine, and every link is love.
To Mr. T. BRADBURY.
I leave my country all in tears,
But heaven demands me upward, and I dare to go.
The remnant of my days,
ye have patience, and can bear
A long fatigue of life, and drudge through all the race.
Hark, my fair guardian chides my stay,
Angel, I come; lead on the way :"
I fail aloft through azure feas,
Now tread the milky road :
Farewell, ye planets, in your spheres ;
I ftretch the pinions of a bolder thought;
And well defends the walls from fieges and furprize.
With pleasing reverence I behold
The pearly portals wide unfold:
Sit fast upon the flying Mufe,
And let thy roving wonder loofe
Noon ftands eternal here: here may thy fight
Joy must beat high in every vein,
See how the bubbling springs of love
The ftreams in crystal channels move,
Here may thy greedy fenfes feaft
And drink profuse salvation from the filver flood,
In facred order rang'd along
Saints new-releas'd by death
Join the bold feraph's warbling breath,
And, like the trumpet, ftrong.
Divine attention held my
I was all ear!
Through all my powers the heavenly accents roll,
I long'd and wish'd my Bradbury there;
“The dull unwinding of life's tedious thread, "But burft the vital chords to reach the happy dead.”
And now my tongue prepares to join
In vain I fought the scenes of light
For all around them stood my curtains and the night.
Strict Religion very rare.
'M borne aloft, and leave the crowd,
I fail upon a morning cloud
Skirted with dawning gold:
Mine eyes beneath the opening day
Are thefe the things (my paffion cry'd) "That we call men? Are thefe ally'd
"To the fair worlds of light?
"They have ras'd out their Maker's name, "Graven on their minds with pointed flame "In ftrokes divinely bright.
"Wretches! they hate their native skies ; "If an ethereal thought arife,
"Or fpark of virtue fhine,
"With cruel force they damp its'plumes,
"Lo! how they throng with panting breath
"Nor mifs the dark abode."
They foar beyond my labouring fight,
But not their love, below.