Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Hymn to Virtue

Hymn to Virtue.

Ever lovely and benign,Endowed with energy divine—Hail! Virtue, hail! Erom thee proceedThe great design, the heroic deed,The heart that melts for human woes,Valour and truth, and calm repose. Though fortune frown, though fate prepareHer shafts, and wake corroding care,Though wrathful clouds involve the skies,Though lightnings glare and storms arise,In vain, to shake the guiltless soul,Changed fortune frowns and thunders roll.

Pile, avarice, thy yellow hoard;Spread, luxury, thy costly board;Ambition, crown thy head with bays;Let sloth recline on beds of ease;Admired, adored, let beauty rollThe magic eye that melts the soul;Unless, with purifying fires,Virtue the conscious soul inspires,In vain, to bar intruding woe,Wealth, fame, and power, and pleasure flow.

To me thy sovereign gift impart,The resolute, unshaken heart,To guide me from the flowery wayWhere pleasure tunes her syren lay:Deceitful path, where shame and careThe poisonous shaft concealed prepare!And shield me with thy gen'rous pride,When fashion scoffs and fools deride.

Ne'er let ambition's meteor rayMislead my reason, and betrayMy fancy with the gilded dreamOf hoarded wealth and noisy fame;But let my soul, consenting, flow,Compassionate of other's woe.Teach me the kind, endearing artTo heal the mourner's broken heart—To ease the rankling wounds of care,And soothe the frenzy of despair.

So, lovely virgin, may I gainAdmission to thy hallowed fane,Where peace of mind of eye serene,Of heavenly hue and placid mien,Leads, smiling, thy celestial choir,And smites the consecrated lyre.And may that minstrelsy, whose charmCan rage, and grief, and care disarm,Can passion's lawless force control,Soothe, melt, and elevate my soul!