 | The triumph of music |  |
SONNET.
I feel the sinking tide of life run low;
The world's gay pageants from my heart recede:
The little all, that peace and virtue need,
Forms the just limit of my wish below.
But in my soul, where faith's clear waters flow,
Sublimer hopes a strong ambition feed
To change mortality's decaying weed
For that pure vest, in which the seraphs glow.
The world's gay pageants from my heart recede:
The little all, that peace and virtue need,
Forms the just limit of my wish below.
But in my soul, where faith's clear waters flow,
Sublimer hopes a strong ambition feed
To change mortality's decaying weed
For that pure vest, in which the seraphs glow.
Let this bright aim my steady thoughts engage!
Whatever clouds of frailty intervene,
Let me attain on earth's tumultuous stage,
The decent quiet of sequester'd age!
Make, my good angel! thro' this twilight scene
My conduct sinless! and my death serene!
Whatever clouds of frailty intervene,
Let me attain on earth's tumultuous stage,
The decent quiet of sequester'd age!
Make, my good angel! thro' this twilight scene
My conduct sinless! and my death serene!
| The triumph of music | |