O form'd t' illume a sunless world forlorn,

    As o'er the chill and dusky brow of Night,

    In Finland's wintry skies the Mimic Morn

Electric pours a stream of rosy light,

Pleas'd I have mark'd OPPRESSION, terror-pale,

    Since, thro' the windings of her dark machine,

    Thy steady eye has shot its glances keen --

And bade th' All-lovely ''scenes at distance hail''.

Nor will I not thy holy guidance bless,

    And hymn thee, GODWIN! with an ardent lay;

    For that thy voice, in Passion's stormy day,

When wild I roam'd the bleak Heath of Distress,

Bade the bright form of Justice meet my way --

And told me that her name was HAPPINESS.