Was doomed to wear out her appointed time, -Yet tears to human suffering are due; From out the tomb of him for whom she died; 1814 XCIII ODE TO DUTY 'Jam non consilio bonus, sed more eò perductus, ut non tantum rectè facere possim, sed nisi rectè facere non possim.' STERN Daughter of the Voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe ; From vain temptations dost set free ; And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh! if through confidence misplaced [cast. They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And they a blissful course may hold Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried; Too blindly have reposed my trust : Thy timely mandate, I deferred The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I feel the weight of chance-desires : My hopes no more must change their name, Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give; And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live! XCIV TO ENTERPRISE KEEP for the Young the impassioned smile And drop thy pointing finger bright But neither veil thy head in shadows dim, Nor turn thy face away From One who, in the evening of his day, I Bold Spirit! who art free to rove While traversing this nether sphere, 1805 Where Mortals call thee ENTERPRISE. The grove, and stained the turf with gore; With infant shout; and often sweep, II What though this ancient Earth be trod |