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150    POEMS,

Th' indelible vestige of unblemished love,
Must hence a guide to generations prove:
Though virtuous partners moulder in the tomb,
Their light may shine on ages yet to come.

With grateful tears their well-spent day shall close,
When death, like evening, calls them to repose;
Then mystic smiles may break from deep disguise,
Like Vesper's torch transpiring in the skies.

Like constellations still their works may shine,
In virtue's unextinguished blaze divine;
Happy are they whose race shall end the same-
Sweeter than odors is a virtuous name.

Such is the transcript of unfading grace,
Reflecting lustre on a future race,
The virtuous on this line delight to tread,
And magnify the honors of the dead-

Who like a Phœnix did not burn in vain,
Incinerated to revive again;
From whose exalted urn young love shall rise,
Exulting from a funeral sacrifice.


BY A SLAVE.    151

LINES,
On hearing of the intention of a gentleman to purchase the Poet's freedom.

When on life's ocean first I spread my sail,
I then implored a mild auspicious gale;
And from the slippery strand I took my flight,
And sought the peaceful haven of delight.

Tyrranic storms arose upon my soul,
And dreadful did their mad'ning thunders roll;
The pensive muse was shaken from her sphere,
And hope, it vanished in the clouds of fear.

At length a golden sun broke through the gloom,
And from his smiles arose a sweet perfume-
A calm ensued, and birds began to sing,
And lo! the sacred muse resumed her wing.

With frantic joy she chanted as she flew,
And kiss'd the clement hand that bore her through;
Her envious foes did from her sight retreat,
Or prostate fall beneath her burning feet.

'T was like a proselyte, allied to Heaven-
Or rising spirits' boast of sins forgiven,
Whose shout dissolves the adamant away,
Whose melting voice the stubborn rocks obey.