With his sharp dagger wounds his bleeding breast, And steeps his eyelids in eternal rest: [gore), Then cries (and waves the steel that drops with 'The tyrant dies; oppression is no more.'
Now came an aged sire 3, with trembling pace; Sunk were his eyes, and pale his ghastly face; A ragged weed of dusky hue he wore, And on his back a ponderous coffer bore. The queen with faltering speech he thus ad
'O, fill with gold thy true adorer's chest!'
Behold (said she, and waved her powerful
hand),
Where yon rich hills in glittering order stand,
There load thy coffer with the golden store;
Then bear it full away, and ask no more.'
With eager steps he took his hasty way,
Where the bright coin in heaps unnumber'd lay;
There hung enamour'd o'er the gleaming spoil,
Scoop'd the gay dross, and bent beneath the toil.
But bitter was his anguish to behold
The coffer widen, and its sides unfold:
And, every time he heap'd the darling ore,
His greedy chest grew larger than before;
Till, spent with pain, and falling o'er his hoard,
With his sharp steel his maddening breast he gored:
On the loved heap he cast his closing eye,
Contented on a golden couch to die.
A stripling, with the fair adventure pleased, Stepp'd forward, and the massy coffer seized; But with surprise he saw the stores decay, And all the long sought treasures melt away: In winding streams the liquid metal roll'd, And through the palace ran a flood of gold.
Next, to the shrine advanced a reverend sage, Whose beard was hoary with the frost of His few gray locks a sable fillet bound, And his dark mantle flow'd along the ground: Grave was his port, yet show'd a bold neglect, And fill'd the young beholder with respect; Time's envious hand had plough'd his wrinkled Yet on those wrinkles sat superior grace; [face, Still full of fire appear'd his vivid eye, [sky. Darted quick beams, and seem'd to pierce the At length, with gentle voice and look serene, He waved his hand, and thus address'd the queen
Twice forty winters tip my beard with snow,
And age's chilling gusts around me blow:
In early youth, by contemplation led, [fed;
With high pursuits my flatter'd thoughts were
To nature first my labours were confined,
And all her charms were open'd to my mind,
Each flower that glisten'd in the morning dew,
And
shrub that in the forest grew:
every
From earth to heaven I cast my wondering eyes,
Saw suns unnumber'd sparkle in the skies,
Mark'd the just progress of each rolling sphere,
Described the seasons, and reform'd the year.
At length sublimer studies I began,
And fix'd my level'd telescope on man;
Knew all his powers, and all his passions traced,
What virtue raised him, and what vice debased:
But when I saw his knowledge so confined,
So vain his wishes, and so weak his mind,
His soul a bright obscurity at best,
And rough with tempests his afflicted breast,
4 Knowledge.
His life a flower ere evening sure to fade,
His highest joys the shadow of a shade;
To thy fair court I took my weary way,
Bewail my folly, and Heaven's laws obey,
Confess my feeble mind for prayers unfit,
And to my Maker's will my soul submit:
Great empress of yon orb that rolls below,
On me the last best gift of Heaven bestow.'
He spoke: a sudden cloud his senses stole,
And thickening darkness swam o'er all his soul;
His vital spark her earthly cell forsook,
And into air her fleeting progress took. [heard,
Now from the throng a deafening sound was And all at once their various prayers preferr'd; The goddess, wearied with the noisy crowd, Thrice waved her silver wand, and spoke aloud— Our ears no more with vain petitions tire, But take unheard whate'er you first desire.' She said: each wish'd,and what he wish'd obtain’d: And wild confusion in the palace reign'd.
But Maia, now grown senseless with delight,
Cast on an emerald ring her roving sight;
And, ere she could survey the rest with care,
Wish'd on her hand the precious gem to wear.
Sudden the palace vanish'd from her sight,
And the gay fabric melted into night;
But, in its place, she view'd with weeping eyes
Huge rocks around her, and sharp cliffs arise:
She sat deserted on the naked shore,
Saw the curl'd waves, and heard the tempest roar;
Whilst on her finger shone the fatal ring,
A weak defence from hunger's pointed sting,
From sad remorse, from comfortless despair,
And all the painful family of care!
|