| |
| THROUGH airy roads he wings his instant flight | |
| To purer regions of celestial light; | |
| Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, | |
| Beneath him sees the universal whole, | |
| Planets on planets run their destin’d round, | 5 |
| And circling wonders fill the vast profound. | |
| Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies | |
| With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes: | |
| The angels view him with delight unknown, | |
| Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne; | 10 |
| Then smilling thus. “To this divine abode, | |
| The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God, | |
| Thrice welcome thou.” The raptur’d babe replies, | |
| “Thanks to my God, who snatch’d me to the skies, | |
| E’er vice triumphant had possess’d my heart, | 15 |
| E’er yet the tempter had beguil’d my heart, | |
| E’er yet on sin’s base actions I was bent, | |
| E’er yet I knew temptation’s dire intent; | |
| E’er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt, | |
| E’er vanity had led my way to guilt, | 20 |
| But, soon arriv’d at my celestial goal, | |
| Full glories rush on my expanding soul.” | |
| Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round | |
| Clapt their glad wings, the heav’nly vaults resound. | |
| |
| Say, parents, why this unavailing moan? | 25 |
| Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan? | |
| To Charles, the happy subject of my song, | |
| A brighter world, and nobler strains belong. | |
| Say would you tear him from the realms above | |
| By thoughtless wishes, and prepost’rous love? | 30 |
| Doth his felicity increase your pain? | |
| Or could you welcome to this world again | |
| The heir of bliss? with a superior air | |
| Methinks he answers with a smile severe, | |
| “Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there.” | 35 |
| But still you cry, “Can we the sigh forbear, | |
| And still and still must we not pour the tear? | |
| Our only hope, more dear than vital breath, | |
| Twelve moons revolv’d, becomes the prey of death; | |
| Delightful infant, nightly visions give | 40 |
| Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive, | |
| We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast, | |
| The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest.” | |
| |
| To yon bright regions let your faith ascend, | |
| Prepare to join your dearest infant friend | 45 |
| In pleasures without measure, without end. | |
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