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Our faculties, shall fix in calmer seats
Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights
Of love divine, our intellectual Soul."
Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue,
Poured forth with fervour in continuous stream;
Such as, remote 'mid savage wilderness,
An Indian Chief discharges from his breast
Into the hearing of the assembled Tribes,
In open circle seated round, and hushed
As the unbreathing air, when not a leaf
Stirs in the mighty woods.—So did he speak:
The words he uttered shall not pass away;
For they sank into me—the bounteous gift
Of One whom time and nature had made wise,
Gracing his language with authority
Which hostile spirits silently allow;
Of One accustomed to desires that feed
On fruitage gathered from the Tree of Life,
To hopes on knowledge and experience built;
Of One in whom persuasion and belief
