Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/460

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MISCELLANIES.
From the false world in early youth they fled,By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led.You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd,And Paradise was open'd in the wild.No weeping orphan saw his father's storesOur shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n:But such plain roofs as piety could raise,And only vocal with the Maker's praise.In these lone walls (their days eternal bound)These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,Where awful arches make a noonday night,And the dim windows shed a solemn light;Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.But now no face divine contentment wears,'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.See how the force of others' pray'rs I try,(O pious fraud of am'rous charity!)

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