To William Godwin

O form'd t' illume a sunless world forlorn,

       &nbspAs o'er the chill and dusky brow of Night,

       &nbspIn Finland's wintry skies the Mimic Morn

Electric pours a stream of rosy light,



Pleas'd I have mark'd Oppression, terror-pale,

       &nbspSince, thro' the windings of her dark machine,

       &nbspThy steady eye has shot its glances keen—

And bade th' All-lovely 'scenes at distance hail'.



Nor will I not thy holy guidance bless,

       &nbspAnd hymn thee, Godwin! with an ardent lay;

       &nbspFor that thy voice, in Passion's stormy day,

When wild I roam'd the bleak Heath of Distress,



Bade the bright form of Justice meet my way—

And told me that her name was Happiness.