But when from envy and from death to claim
A hero bleeding for his native land;
Or when to nourish freedom's vestal flame,
I hear my GENIUS utter his command,
Nor Theban voice, nor Lesbian lyre
From thee, O Mufe, do I require,
While my prophetic mind,

Confcious of pow'rs fhe never knew, Astonish'd grafps at things beyond her view, Nor by another's fate hath felt her own confin'd.

FINIS.