XXI.

'O Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven, 'In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light, 'Rose from the abyss; when dark Confusion, driven 'Down down the bottomless profound of night, 'Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing sight! 'O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray, 'To blast the fury of oppressive might, 'Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's sway, 'And cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the way.'