V. Where'er thou art, enchanting maid, Where all the Loves and Graces lye, With them your hands fhall mutual chaplets twine, And weave immortal wreaths of peace and joy. VIr And, hark, compleating our prophetic strain, Avaunt! ye vain, delufive fears. Hark! Echo tells thro' Harewood's ampleft bounds, That Love, Content, and ATHELWOLD appears. CHORUS III. ON CONSTAN Ç Y.. I. Whence does this sudden luftre rife, That gilds the grove? not like the noon-time beam Which sparkling dances on the trembling stream, Nor the blue lightning's flafh fwift-shooting thro' the skies. But fuch a folemn steady light, As oe'r the cloudlefs azure fteals, When CYNTHIA riding on the brow of night, II. Whence can it rife but from the fober pow'r Stedfaft, as when her high command Gives to the starry band Their radiant stations in heav'n's ample plain. * In which ATHELWOLD and ELFRIDA had been juft exchanging profeffions of their mutual fidelity. Stedfaft, as when around this nether sphere, Tells what time the fnow-drop cold The pearly hail's translucent fhow'r, To caft his filv'ry mantle o'er the woods, III. The foul, which she infpires, has pow'r to climb Of Virtue's tow'ring hill. That hill, at whofe low feet weak-warbling strays The fcanty stream of human praise, A fhallow trickling rill. While on the fummits hov'ring angels fhed, Pure, and unmixt on thee the facred drops fhall fall. CHORUS IV. ATHELWOLD SUSPECTS THE CONSTANCY OF ELFRIDA. I. Say, will no white-rob'd son of light, Here deign to take his hallow'd stand; And you, ye hoft of faints, for ye have known II. 'Tis filence all. No fon of light Darts fwiftly from his heav'nly height. No train of radiant faints defcend. "Mortals, in vain ye hope to find, "If guilt, if fraud have ftain'd your mind, "Or faint to hear, or angel to defend." Р So Truth proclaims. I hear the facred found Burst from the centre of the burning throne. Where aye fhe fits with ftar-wreath luftre crown'd, A bright fun clasps her adamantine zone. So Truth proclaims: her awful voice I hear, With many a folemn pause it slowly meets my ear. III. Attend, ye fons of men; attend, and say," Does not enough of my refulgent ray Break thro' the veil of your mortality! Say does not reason in this form defcry Unnumber'd, nameless glorics, that furpafs The Angel's floating pomp, the Seraph's glowing grace? IV. Shall then your earth-born daughters vie Whose melting voice the warbling woodlark's lays; Vie with thefe charms imperial? The poor worm Shall prove her conteft vain. Life's little day * ATHELWOLD had been guilty of a lye, that he might poffefs ELFRIDA. |