And, tinged with such variety of shade, To the charm'd soul sublimest thoughts convey'd. In these what forms romantic did we trace, 200 While Fancy led us o'er the realms of space! Now we espied the Thunderer in his car, And the fond scene can charm mine eyes no more; The scene is o'er-still seasons onward roll, 205 210 Alone to struggle through this world of woe. And each revolve conducts me toward the goal; 215 And the tired soul, now led to thoughts sublime, Toil on, toil on, ye busy crowds, that pant 220 And the poor peasant, bless'd with peace and health, I envy more than Croesus with his wealth. 225 Yet grieve not I, that Fate did not decree She gave me more, she placed within my breast 230 And could my sight be borne to either zone, But whither do I wander? shall the muse, And prattles on in desultory song. 235 That song must close-the gloomy mists of night 240 Obscure the pale stars' visionary light, And ebon darkness, clad in vapoury wet, Steals on the welkin in primeval jet. 245 The song must close. Once more my adverse lot Grant that, if ever Providence should please and ease, Grant that, in these sequester'd shades, my days May wear away in gradual decays; Who were 250 255 260 * FRAGMENT OF AN ECCENTRIC DRAMA, WRITTEN AT A VERY EARLY AGE. THE DANCE OF THE CONSUMPTIVES. DING-DONG! ding-dong! Over the heath, over the moor, and over the dale, Swinging slow with sullen roar,' Dance, dance away, the jocund roundelay! Round the oak, and round the elm, It keeps its post, And soon, and soon our sports must fail: But let us trip the nightly ground, While the merry, merry bells ring round. Hark! hark! the death-watch ticks! See, see, the winding-sheet! Our dance is done, Our race is run, nd we must lie at the alder's feet! Swinging o'er the weltering wave! And we must seek Our death-beds bleak, Where the green sod grows upon the grave. They vanish-The Goddess of Consumption descends, habited in a sky-blue robe, attended by mournful music. Come, Melancholy, sister mine. Cold the dews, and chill the night! Come from thy dreary shrine! The wan moon climbs the heavenly height, Troops of squalid spectres play, And the dying mortals' groan Startles the night on her dusky throne. Gliding on the pale moon-shine; On the tainted breeze, And oh! our sport will be divine. The Goddess of Melancholy advances out of a deep glen in the rear, habited in black, and covered with a thick veil. -She speaks. Sister, from my dark abode, Where nests the raven, sits the toad, Hither I come, at thy command: Sister, sister, join thy hand! Come, let us speed away, Lay our snares, and spread our tether! O'er many a grave, Where youth and beauty sleep together. CONSUMPTION. Come, let us speed our way! Thou shalt smooth the way for me; O'er many a grave, Where youth and beauty sleep together. MELANCHOLY. Hist, sister, hist! who comes here? She is mine, And she is thine, Now the deadliest draught prepare. CONSUMPTION. In the dismal night air dress'd I will creep into her breast; Flush her cheek, and bleach her skin, N |