Anna Laetitia Barbauld Poems

Sweet is the scene when Virtue dies!—
When sinks a righteous soul to rest,
How mildly beam the closing eyes,
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To learned Athens, led by fame,
As once the man of Tarsus came,
With pity and surprise
Midst idol altars as he stood,
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Salt of the earth, ye virtuous few,
Who season human-kind;
Light of the world, whose cheering ray
Illumes the realms of mind:
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Midway the hill of science, after steep
And rugged paths that tire the' unpractised feet,
A grove extends; in tangled mazes wrought,
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Edward

Hist, William! hist! what means that air so gay?
Thy looks, thy dress, bespeak some holiday:
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Friend of those years which from Youth's sparkling fount
With silent lapse down Time's swift gulf have run!
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This creature, though extremely thin,
In shape is almost square;
Has many heads, on which ne'er grew
One single lock of hair.
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Joy to the followers of the Lord!
Thus saith the sure the eternal word.
Not of earth the joy it brings,
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YES, DELIA loves! My fondest vows are blest;
Farewel the memory of her past disdain;
One kind relenting glance has heal'd my breast,
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God of my life! and author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise;
And trembling, take upon a mortal tongue
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