STANZAS,
ADDRESSED TO THE HON. AND RIGHT
REVEREND CHARLES JAMES STEWART, LORD BISHOP OF
QUEBEC.
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Ere
I unstring my fond, devoted lyre,
Whose faithful throbbings
spoke the feeling breast—
Or from the field of poesy retire,
To seek one little calm
of blissful rest;— [Page 214]
Here do I love to mingle with its tone,
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The
parting tone, that softly breathes to thee
This heart’s best wishes—for thy name
alone
Is ever dear to memory,
and to me.
And blessed are they who feel Religion’s power
In Gospel’s truths,
by thee so kindly given,
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To
cheer the sinking heart in life’s last hour,
Thou good—thou worthy
delegate from heaven.
And, oh! how pleasingly the mind surveys
Thy tender friendship, oft
on me bestowed,
Throughout a sunny lapse of happier days,
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When
this wrecked heart with pure devotion glowed.
Had nature formed me of another cast—
Or chilled imagination’s
burning power—
Still moping o’er the Fathers had I passed,
In dullest gloom, the long
and cheerless hour! [Page 215]
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But I repine not—in the Muses’ train
I love to follow—taught
by fancy’s call
To wake a doleful dirge, or pleasing strain,
As joy, or woe, alternately
may fall!
The mind, alone the standard of the man,
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If
rightly managed, all our bliss secures—
And clearly shows, that wise, that holy plan,
By which Omnipotence our
peace ensures.
Farewell, my Lord, until another page
Shall ope its spotless bosom
to my pen—
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When
on the pleasing task I will engage,
To sing thy worth—thou
kindest, best of men.
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THE END.
[Page 216]
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