And now his cheeks with deeper ardors flame, His eyes have glorious meanings, that declare More than the light of outward day shines there, A holier triumph and a sterner aim! 55 Wings grow within him; and he soars above Or Bard's or Minstrel's lay of war or love. Friend to the friendless, to the sufferer health, He hears the widow's prayer, the good man's praise; To scenes of bliss transmutes his fancied wealth, 60 And young and old shall now see happy days. On many a waste he bids trim gardens rise, Gives the blue sky to many a prisoner's eyes; And now in wrath he grasps the patriot steel, And her own iron rod he makes Oppression feel. 65 Sweet Flower of Hope! free Nature's genial child! That didst so fair disclose thy early bloom, Filling the wide air with a rich perfume! For thee in vain all heavenly aspects smil'd; From the hard world brief respite could they win-- 70 The frost nipp'd sharp without, the canker prey'd within! Ah! where are fled the charms of vernal Grace, And Joy's wild gleams that lighten'd o'er thy face? Youth of tumultuous soul, and haggard eye! Thy wasted form, thy hurried steps I view, 75 On thy wan forehead starts the lethal dew, And oh! the anguish of that shuddering sigh! Such were the struggles of the gloomy hour, When Care, of wither'd brow, Prepar'd the poison's death-cold power: 80 Already to thy lips was rais'd the bowl, When near thee stood Affection meek (Her bosom bare, and wildly pale her cheek) Thy sullen gaze she bade thee roll On scenes that well might melt thy soul; 85 Thy native cot she flash'd upon thy view, Thy native cot, where still, at close of day, Peace smiling sate, and listen'd to thy lay; Thy Sister's shrieks she bade thee hear, And mark thy Mother's thrilling tear; 90 See, see her breast's convulsive throe, Her silent agony of woe! Ah! dash the poison'd chalice from thy hand!