I bend, great Justice! at thine awful throne, Eternal arbiter of good and ill, The sons of soul shall make thy laws their own, And form their dictates by thy sov'reign will. But oft perverted is thy high behest, And oft I'm doom'd oppression's rod to see; I see wealth triumph, and the poor opprest, And, need I, ORSON! tell my wish to thee? How bounds the soul at freedom's sacred call? How shrinks from slavery's heart-appalling train? But still her victims avarice will inthral, Afric's sad sons still wear the accursed chain. Still, power despotic, with ambition join'd, Would crush the soul determin'd to be free; I see debas'd man's dignity of mind, And, need I, ORSON! tell my wish to thee? Were justice follow'd, then would man be good, Were freedom guarded, then would man be blest; No generous impulse of the soul subdu'd, But love, unfraught with anguish, fill the breast. I felt the magic of LUCINDA's eye, I thought her charms were of no mean degree; LUCINDA's name inspir'd the secret sigh, And, need I, ORSON! tell my wish to thee? One only wish remain'd! oh! might I find, Amid this scene of danger and of strife, Some kindred spirit, some congenial mind, To cheer my journey through the vale of life. Indulgent heav'n vouchsafed the boon to send, A youth I found, and just and mild was he; My heart sprang mutual to embrace its friend, And, need I, ORSON! name that friend to thee? MOSCHUS. * * * * * TO LYCON. On yon wild waste of ruin thron'd, what form Beats her swoln breast, and tears her unkempt hair? Why seems the spectre thus to court the storm? Why glare her full-fix'd eyes in stern despair? The deep dull groan I hear, I see her rigid eye refuse the soothing tear. Ah! fly her dreadful reign, For desolation rules o'er all the lifeless plain; For deadliest nightshade forms her secret bower, For oft the ill-omen'd owl Yells loud the dreadful howl, And the night spectres shriek amid the midnight hour. Pale spectre, Grief! thy dull abodes I know, I know the horrors of thy barren plain, I know the dreadful force of woe, I know the weight of thy soul-binding chain; But I have fled thy drear domains, Have broke thy agonizing chains, Drain'd deep the poison of thy bowl, Yet wash'd in Science' stream the poison from my soul.