They float before my soul, the fair designs
Which I would body forth to life and power,
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I come, I come! ye have called me long;
I come o'er the mountains, with light and song.
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The stately homes of England
How beautiful they stand!
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OH thou! whose soft, bewitching lyre, Can lull the sting of pain to rest;
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OH, queen of dreams! 'tis now the hour, Thy fav'rite hour of silence and of sleep;
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OH thou! the musing, wakeful pow'r, That lov'st the silent, midnight hour,
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FAIR Gratitude! in strain sublime, Swell high to heav'n thy tuneful zeal;
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OH, Thou! before whose radiant shrine, Entranc'd, adoring seraphs bend;
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LOVELY nymph! with eye serene, Dimpled smile and frolic mien;
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COME, gentle muse! now all is calm, The dew descends, the air is balm;
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SUBLIME is thy prospect, thou proud-rolling Ocean, And Fancy surveys thee with solemn delight;
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WHILE bending o'er my golden lyre, While waving light my wing of fire ;
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HOW long, oh, my faithful companion and guide! Thou hast wafted o'er deserts my car!
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OH! bear me to the groves of palm, Where perfum'd airs diffuse their balm!
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SUCCESS to the heroes of gallant Castile, Undaunted in danger, victorious in fight!
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THOU tyrant of the ling'ring hour! Ah, why with me delight to rest?
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MAID of the placid smile and heav'nly mien, With beaming eye, tho' tearful yet serene;
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YE who burn with glory's flame! Ye who love the Patriot's fame;
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THO' dark are the prospects and heavy the hours, Tho' life is a desert, and cheerless the way;
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IF e'er for human bliss or woe I feel the sympathetic glow;
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OH, thou! whose pure, exalted mind Lives in this record, fair and bright;
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O'ER flowery fields of waving maize, The breeze of morning lightly plays;
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VALIANT sons of freedom's land, Ardent, firm, devoted band,
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BLOW, mountain-breeze! all wild, like thee, Unfetter'd as thy wing, I rove;
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THOU, bright Futurity! whose prospect beams, In dawning radiance on our day-light dreams;
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OCTOBER! tho' thy rugged brow, No vivid wreaths entwine;
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COMMANDING pow'r! whose hand with plastic art Bids the rude stone to grace and being start;
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YE nations of Europe! arising to war, And scorning submission to tyranny's might
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HOW many a day, in various hues array'd, Bright with gay sun-shine, or eclips'd with shade;
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WHENCE are those tranquil joys, in mercy giv'n, To light the wilderness with beams of Heav'n?
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