SUICIDE. By THOMAS WARTON. BENEATH the beech, whofe branches bard Smit with the lightning's vivid glare, O'erhang the craggy road, And whiftle hollow as they wave; Within a folitary grave, A wretched Suicide holds his accurs3d abode, Lowr'd the grim morn, in murky dies. I mark'd his defultory pace, His geftures ftrange, and varying face With many a mutter'd found; And ah! too late, aghaft I view'd The reeking blade, the hand embru'd, He fell, and groaning grafp'd in agony the ground, Full O'er his fad couch, and in the balm Of bland oblivion's dews his burning eyes to fleep. Full oft, unknowing and unknown,ɔub found i Abrupt the focial board to quit, And gaze with eager glance upon the tumbling flood. Beck'ning the wretch to torments new, w nad A spectre pale, appear❜d; While, as the fhades of eve arofe ५ And brought the day's unwelcome clofe, More horrible and huge her giant-fhape the rear'd "Is this," miftaken Scorn will cry, Is this the youth, whofe genius high "Had flor'd with all her ample views, wh Parent of faireft deeds, and purposes fublime ?" AL! Ah! from the Mufe that bofom mild To ftrike the deathful blow: And rous'd to livelier pangs his wakeful sense of woc, Though doom'd hard penury to prove, More wounds than nature gave he knew, In dark ideal hues, and horrors not its own. Then with not o'er his earthly tomb Nor, oh! forbid the twifted thorn, What though no marble-piled buft Adorn his defolated duft, With speaking fculpture wrought ? Pity fhall woo the weeping Nine To build a vifionary fhrine, Hung with unfading flow'rs, from fairy regions brought What What though refus'd'each chanted rite ?? To touch the fhadowy fhell: And Petrarch's harp, that wept the doom To foothe a lone, unhallow'd fhade, Within an ivy'd nook : Sudden the half-funk orb of day More radiant fhot its parting ray, And thus a cherub-voice my charm'd attention took "Forbear, fond bard, thy partial praise; "Nor thus for guilt in fpecious lays "The wreath of glory twine: "In vain with hues of gorgeous glow "Gay Fancy gives her veft to flow, Unless truth's matron-hand the floating folds confine "Juft Heaven, man's fortitude to prove, Permits through life at large to rove "The tribes of hell-born woe; Yet the fame Pow'r that wifely fends Life's fierceft ills, indulgent lends Religion's golden fhield to break th' embattled foc. "Her - ** Her aid divine had lull'd to refter D "To gild the darken'd hemifphere, And give the wonted bloom to nature's blafted form. "Vain man! 'tis heaven's prerogative * In awful expectation plac'd, "Await thy doom, nor impious hafte To pluck from God's right hand his Inftruments of "death." THE INCURIOUS. HREE years in London Bobadil had been, TH Yet not the lions nor the tombs had feen; I cannot tell the caufe without a smile The rogue had been in Newgate all the while. ODE |