Page:Poems (Barbauld).djvu/12

2 &emsp;And are there yet, in this late fickly age (Unkindly to the tow'ring growths of virtue) Such bold exalted pirits? Men whoe deeds, To the bright annals of old oppos'd, Would throw in hades her yet unrival'd name, And dim the lutre of her fairet page! And glows the flame of o trong In this lone peck of earth! this pot obcure, Shaggy with woods, and cruted o'er with rock, By laves urrounded, and by laves oppres'd! What then hould feel? hould they not catch The warm contagion of heroic ardour, And kindle at a fire o like their own?

&emsp;Such were the working thoughts which well'd the breat Of generous ; when with nobler aim And views beyond the narrow beaten track By trivial fancy trod, he turn'd his coure From