“Harmony, with ev'ry grace, Plays in the fair proportions of her face.”
“No more to fabled names confined, To thee, supreme, all-perfect mind, My thoughts direct their flight: Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force From thee derived, unchanging source Of intellectual light! O send her sure, her steady ray To regulate my doubtful way Through life's perplexing road, The mists of error to control, And through its gloom direct my soul To happiness and good!”