 | Poems Upon Several Occasions |  |
The Call.
I
Peace ye imperious Charms of Love,Peace ye sweet Syrens of the Air,
Not all your melting Notes can move
My fleeting Soul, or keep it here.
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II
Diviner Eccho's bid me goTo the refreshing Fields of Light,
Altho' the Air is gross below,
Yet nothing shall retard my flight.
III
Lo! now I mount, and as I rise,Successive Scenes of new Delight
Prepare my weaker Mortal Eyes
To gaze on the Eternal Light.
| Poems Upon Several Occasions | |