Alike in adverse, pros'rpous state, The even mind is seen;— You want not fortune to be great, Your grandeur is within.
There sits benevolence in state, All-anxious to bestow; In pity soft'ning cruel fate, Reducing stubborn woe.
This, bleeding virtue owns; yet breaths, To fix, while all approve, Firm on thy brow the sacred wreaths, Of purity and love.
Then innocence shall lead thee forth, Thy constant, dearest friend;— Bright as in former days thy worth, With time alone shall end.
Hence, foul deceit, away! Haste from fair truth's effulgent ray, To deepest, darkest night: For lo! regardless of despotic pow'r, That loves to bend the straitest flow'r, She cheers to rectitude the heart, and fills it with delight. June 9.
