Frail man, how various is thy lot below! To-day though gales propitious blow, And Peace soft gliding down the sky Lead Love along and Harmony, To-morrow the gay scene deforms! Then all around The Thunder's sound Rolls rattling on through Heaven's profound, And down rush all the storms. Ye days that balmy influence shed, When sweet childhood, ever sprightly, In paths of pleasure sported lightly, Whither, ah! whither are ye fled? Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way, O leave him not 'midst tumult and dismay; For now youth's eminence he gains; But what a weary length of lingering toil remains! III. 1. They shrink, they vanish into air, Now slander taints with pestilence the gale; And mingling cries assail, The wail of Woe, and groan of grim Despair, Lo! wizard Envy from his serpent eye Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance; Pride smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy, Frowning Disdain, and haggard Hate advance. Behold, amidst the dire array, Pale wither'd Care his giant stature rears, And, lo! his iron hand prepares To grasp its feeble prey. III. 2. Who now will guard bewilder'd youth Safe from the fierce assault of hostile rage? Such war can Virtue wage, Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth? Alas! full oft on Guilt's victorious car The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne; While the fair captive, mark'd with many a scar, In lone obscurity, oppress'd, forlorn, Resigns to tears her angel form. Ill-fated youth, then whither wilt thou fly? No friend, no shelter now is nigh, And onward rolls the storm. III. 3. But whence the sudden beam that shoots along? Why shrink aghast the hostile throng? Lo! from amidst affliction's night Hope bursts all radiant on the sight: Her words the troubled bosom soothe. "Why thus dismay'd? Though foes invade, Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid Who tread the path of truth. 'Tis I, who smoothe the rugged way, I, who close the eyes of Sorrow, And with glad visions of to-morrow Repair the weary soul's decay. When Death's cold touch thrills to the freezing heart, Dreams of Heaven's opening glories I impart, Till the freed spirit springs on high In rapture too severe for weak mortality." ODE TO PEACE. I. 1.