"The friend of Happiness, I dwell
" Belov'd alike in court or cell;
"Where Glory lifts her ardent eye,
" With hasty, kindred zeal I fly,
"In sun-beams place the hero's form,
" And bid his arm command the storm;
"On swelling clouds an altar raise,
" And fan the tow'ring flame of praise.
"Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre,
" My fingers strike etherial fire,
"And give to sounds of piercing woe,
" Extatic rapture's fervent glow.
"Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein,
" And grace her simple, wilder'd strain;
"The tribe of Pain in fetters keep,
" Lull wounded Memory to sleep,
"And, in the mind of gloomy Care,
" Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear.