69. Hope
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WE are not children of a guilty sire, |
| Since Noe stepp'd from out his wave-toss'd
home, |
| And a stern baptism flush'd earth's faded
bloom. |
| Not that the heavens then clear'd, or cherub's fire |
| From Eden's portal did at once retire; |
But thoughts were stirr'd of Him who was to
come, |
Whose rainbow hues so streak'd the o'ershadowing
gloom, |
| That faith could e'en that desolate scene admire. |
| The Lord has come and gone; and now we wait |
| The second substance of the deluge type, |
| When our slight ark shall cross a molten surge; |
| So, while the gross earth melts, for judgment ripe, |
| Ne'er with its haughty turrets to emerge, |
| We shall mount up to Eden's long-lost gate. |
Valletta.
February 5, 1833. |