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How deep the breeze! how dim the light! What spectres swim before my sight! My frozen limbs pale terrour chains, And in wild eddies wheels my brains: My icy blood forgets to roll, And death even seems to seize my soul , What sacred power, what healing art, Shall bid my soul herself assert; Shall rouze the immortal active flame, And search her whence her being came> O Fortitude! divinely bright, O Virtue's child, and man's delight!.. Descend, propitious to my lays, And, while my lyre resounds thy praise, With energy divinely strong, Exalt my soul, and warm my song. When raving in eternal pains, And loaded with ten thousand cliains. Vice deep in Phlegethon, yet lay, Nor with her vissage blasted day; No fear to guiltless man was known, For God and Virtue reign d alone. But, when from native flames and night, The cursed monster wing'd her flight,
Pale Fear, among her hideous train, i
Chashed sweet contentment from her reign ;
Placed death and hiell before each eye,
And wrapt in mist the golden sky;
Banish'd from day each dear delight,
And shook with conscious starts the night.”
But in these dregs of human kind,
These days to guilt and fear resign'd,
How rare such views the heart elate!
To brave the last extremes of Fate;
Like heaven's Almighty power, serene,
With fix'd regard to view the scene,
When nature quakes beneath the storm,
And horrour wears its direst form.'
Though future worlds are now descried,
Though Paul has writ, and Jesus died,
Dispellid the dark infernal shade,
And all the heaven of heavens displayed;
Cursed with unnumber'd groundless fears,
How pale yon shivering wretch appears !
For him the day-light shines in vain,
or him the fields no joys contain; :
Nature's whole charms to him are lost,
No'more the woods their musick boast;
No more the meads their vernal bloom,
No more the gales their rich perfume.
Impending mists deform the sky,
And beauty withers in his eye.
In hopes his terrour to elude,
By day he mingles with the croud;
Yet finds his soul to fears a prey,
In busy crouds, and open day.
If night his lonely walk surprise,
What horrid visions round him rise!
That blasted oak, which meets his way,
Shown by the meteor's sudden ray,
The midnight murderer's known retreat
Felt heaven's avengeful bolt of late ;
The clashing chain, the groan profound,
Loud from yon ruin'd tower resound:
And now the spot he seems to tread,
Where some self-slaughter'd corse was laid:
He feels fixt earth beneath him bend,
Deep murmurs from her caves ascend;
Till all his soul, by fancy sway’d,
Sees lurid phantoms croud the shade ;
While shrouded manes palely stare,
And beckoning wish to breathe their care:
Thus real woes from false he bears,
And feels the death, the hell he fears.
FROM A SOLILOQUY. (The Extract alludes to the Death of the Author's
Father, who was killed by an Accident.]
Where now, ah! where is that supporting arm
Which to my weak unequal infant steps
Its kind assistance lent? Ah! where that love,
That strong assiduous tenderness, which watch'd
My wishes yet scarce form’d; and, to my view,
Unimportuned, like all-indulging heaven,
Their objects brought? Ah! where that gentle
Which, with instruction, soft as summer dews
Or fleecy snows, descending on my soul,
Distinguish'd every hour with new delight?
Ah! wbere that virtue, which, amid the storms,
The mingled horrors of tumultuous life,' Untainted, unsubdued, the shock sustain'd? So firm the oak, which, in eternal night, As deep its root extends as high to heaven. Its top majestick rises : such the smile Of some benignant angel, from the throne Of God dispatch’d, ambassador of peace; Who on his look imprest his message bears, And pleased, from earth averts impending ill. Alas! no wife thy parting kisses shared: From thy expiring lips no child received Thy last dear blessing, and thy last advice. Friend, father, benefactor, all at once, In thee forsook me, an unguarded prey For every storm, whose lawless fury roars Beneath the azure concave of the sky, To toss, and on my head exhaust its rage.”
AN EXTEMPORE EPIGRAM. : On a' Girl bringing in a Bottle of wine. " “ TERRESTRIAL Hebe! come, and banish woe; Let mighty wine in generous bumpers flow;