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.