Thomson and Pollok: containing The seasons, by James Thomson, and The course of time, by Robert Pollok, A. M.

B3OOK V. 271
As made entire of beams of angels' eyes.
Gay, guileless, sportive, lovely, little things!
Playing around the den of Sorrow, clad
In smiles, believring in their fairy hopes,
And thinking man and woman true! all joy,
Happy all day, and happy all the night!
Hail, holy Love! thou word that sums all bliss,
Gives and receives all bliss, fullest when most
Thou givest! spring-head of all felicity,
Deepest when most is drawn! emblem of God!
O'erflowing most when greatest numbers drink!
Essence that binds the uncreated Three,
Chain that -unites creation to its Lord,
Centre to which all being gravitates,
Eternal, ever-growing, happy Love!
Enduring all, hoping, forgiving all;
Instead of law, fulfilling every law;
Entirely blest, because thou seek'st no more,
Hopest not, nor fear'st; but on the present livest,
And hold'st perfection smiling in thy arms.
Mysterious, infinite, exhaustless Love!
On earth mysterious, and mysterious still
In heaven!1 sweet chord that harmonizes all
The harps of Paradise! the spring, the well,
That fills the bowl and banquet of the sky!
But why should I to thee of Love divine?
Who happy, and not eloquent of Love?
Who holy, and, as thou art, pure, and not
A temple where her glory ever dwells,
Where burn her fires, and beam-s her perfect eye?
Kindred to this, part of this holy flame,
Was youthful love-the sweetest boon of Earth.
Hail, Love! first Love, thou word that sums all bliss,