XXVI.

Thou Searcher of the soul! in whose dread sight Not the bold guilt alone that mocks the skies, But the scarce-own’d unwhisper’d thought of night, As a thing written with the sunbeam lies; _Thou_ know’st--whose eye through shade and depth can see, That this man’s crime was but to worship thee, Like those that made their hearts thy sacrifice, The call’d of yore--wont by the Saviour’s side On the dim Olive Mount to pray at eventide.