Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/235

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of Science! who so long Expatriate from thy native sphere, Hast traced no line, and breathed no song, That dark, deserted land to cheer—

Spirit of Power! who lotus-crowned Didst reign 'mid Egypt's temples proud, But in oblivion's slumbers drowned 'Neath the drear pyramids hast bowed—

Spirit of Piety! who nursed Of old, amid that sultry clime Oft from Tertullian's musing burst, Or martyred Cyprian's page sublime,

Again ye wake, ye thrill the soul, Your resurrection morn appears, Ye pour your language o'er the scroll Which Afric scans through raptured tears;

Wide may your hallowed wings expand From shore to shore, from wave to wave, Till distant realms shall stretch the hand To strike the fetter from the slave—