Soon shall thy arm, unconquerd steam! afar Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car; Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear The flying chariot through the field of air.
No radiant pearl which crested Fortune wears, No gem that twinkling hangs from Beautys ears, Not the bright stars which Nights blue arch adorn, Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn, Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows Down Virtues manly cheek for others woes.