206
ODE.
Of sacred Eloquence, the soul-felt power,
The palm of Science, and the wreath of Song.
And thou, blest Mother! with unfrosted hair,
Still made by age more beautiful and strong,
Pour a glad welcome, at thy threshold fair,
And breathe thy blessing o'er the filial throng.
Enfold them warmly in thy fond embrace,
And with thy counsels of true wisdom guide,
That, like themselves, their yet uncounted race
May be thy glory, as thou art her pride!
