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Lo! Socrates, the sent of heaven,
To whom its moral will was given.
Fathers and friends of human kind,
They form'd the nations, or refin'd;
With all that mends the head and heart,
Enlightening truth, adorning art.
While thus I mus’d beneath the shade,
At once the sounding breeze was laid:
And nature, by the unknown law,
Shook deep with reverential awe.
Dumb filence grew upon the hour;
A browner night involv'd the bower: t
When issuing from the inmost wood,
Appear'd fair freedom's genius good.
O Freedom: sovereign boon of heaven;
Great charter, with our being given;
For which the patriot, and the sage,
Have plann'd, have bled through every age 1
High privilege of human race,
Beyond a mortal monarch's grace:
Who could not give, nor can reclaim,

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