Samuel Taylor Coleridge — 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.