82
SONNET,
TO THE REV. DR. CHANNING.
Yes! earth shall still he brightened with the rays
Which virtuous hearts upon its darkness shed;
Freedom shall raise up her exulting head,
And point prophetic to the future days!
And thine, O Channing! he the Patriot's praise,
Whose words of fire inflame the soul of youth
With Heaven's own spirit, honor, virtue, truth,
The immortal glory time may not erase.
Proceed! while Tyrants at thy page turn pale,
And unstained hearts throb warmer at its power;
Leave to posterity that noblest dower,
Thine own high mind, which future times shall hail,
And dwell enraptured on thy hope and trust,
When earth's oppressors he forgot in dust!
Which virtuous hearts upon its darkness shed;
Freedom shall raise up her exulting head,
And point prophetic to the future days!
And thine, O Channing! he the Patriot's praise,
Whose words of fire inflame the soul of youth
With Heaven's own spirit, honor, virtue, truth,
The immortal glory time may not erase.
Proceed! while Tyrants at thy page turn pale,
And unstained hearts throb warmer at its power;
Leave to posterity that noblest dower,
Thine own high mind, which future times shall hail,
And dwell enraptured on thy hope and trust,
When earth's oppressors he forgot in dust!
