Ignofcenda quidem, fcirent fi ignofcere manes.
FROM dreams, where thought in fancy's maze runs mad,
To reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man,
Once more I wake; and at the destin'd hour,
Punctual as lovers to the moment fworn,
I keep my affignation with my woe.
O! loft to virtue, loft to manly thought,
Loft to the noble fallies of the foul!
Who think it folitude to be alone.
Communion fweet! communion large, and high!
Our reafon, guardian angel, and cur God!
Then nearest thefe, when others most remote ;
And all, ere long, fhall be remote, but these.
How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone,
A stranger! unacknowledg'd! unapprov'd!
Now woo them; wed them; bind them to thy breast;
To win thy wifh, creation has no more.
Or if we wifh a fourth, it is a friend.
But friends, how mortal! dangerous the defire.
Take Phoebus to yourfelves, ye basking bards!
Inebriate at fair fortune's fountain head,
And reeling thro' the wilderness of joy ;
Where fenfe runs favage, broke from reafon's chain,
And fings falfe peace, till fmother'd by the pall.
Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay;
And if in death ftill lovely, lovelier there;
Far lovelier! pity fwells the tide of love.
And will not the fevere excuse a sigh?
Scorn the proud man that is afham'd to weep;
Our tears indulg'd indeed deserve our shame.
Ye that e'er loft an angel! pity me.
Socn as the luftre languifh'd in her eye,
Dawning a dimmer day on human fight;
And on her cheek, the refidence of spring,
Pale omen fate; and scatter'd fears around
On all that faw (and who would cease to gaze,
That once had feen?) with hafte, parental hafte,
I flew, I fnatch'd her from the rigid north,
Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew,
And bore her nearer to the fun; the fun
(As if the fun could envy) check'd his beam,
Deny'd his wonted fuccour, nor with more
Regret beheld her drooping, than the bells
Of lilies; faireft lilies not fo fair.
Queen lilies! and ye painted populace!
Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrofial lives;
In morn and ev'ning dew your beauties bathe,
And drink the fun; which gives your cheeks to glow,
And out-blush (mine excepted) ev'ry fair;
You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand,
Which often crop'd your odours, incense meet
To thought fo pure; her flow'ry state of mind
In joy unfall'n. Ye lovely fugitives!
Coeval race with man! for man you smile;
Why not smile at him too? you share indeed
His fudden pafs; but not his conftant pain.
So man is made, nought ministers delight,
But what his glowing paffions can engage;
And glowing paffions, bent on aught below,
Muft, foon or late, with anguish turn the feale;
And anguifh, after rapture, how fevere !
Rapture bold man! who tempts the wrath divine,
By plucking fruit deny'd to mortal taste,
While here, prefuming on the rights of heaven.
For transport doft thou call on ev'ry hour,
Lorenzo? At thy friend's expence be wife;
Lean not on earth; 'twill pierce thee to the heart,
A broken reed, at beft; but, oft, a fpear;
On its fharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires.
Turn, hopeless thought! turn from her: thought re-
Resenting rallies, and wakes ev'ry woe.
[pell'd,
Snatch'd ere thy prime! and in thy bridal hour!
And when kind fortune, with thy lover, fmil'd !
And when high-flavour'd thy fresh-op'ning joys!
And when blind man pronounc'd thy blifs complete!
And on a foreign fhore; where ftrangers wept !
Strangers to thee; and, more furprising ftill,
Strangers to kindness, wept: their eyes let fall
Inhuman tears; ftrange tears! that trickled down
From marble hearts! obdurate tenderness !
A tenderness that call'd them more fevere;
In fpite of nature's soft perfuafion, steel'd;
While nature melted, fuperftition rav'd;
That mourn'd the dead; and this deny'd a grave.
Their fighs incens'd; fighs foreign to the will!
Their will the tyger fuck'd, outrag'd the ftorm.
For, oh! the curft ungodliness of zeal!
While finful flesh relented, fpirit nurst
In blind infallibilty's embrace,
The fainted spirit petrify'd the breast;
Deny'd the charity of duft, to fpread
O'er duft! a charity their dogs enjoy.
What could I do? what fuccour ? what refource?
With pious facrilege, a grave I ftole;
With impious piety, that grave I wrong'd;
Short in my duty; coward in my grief!
More like her murderer, than friend, I crept,
With foft-fufpended step; and, muffled deep
In midnight darkness, whisper'd my last figh.
I whisper'd what should echo thro' their realms;
Nor writ her name, whofe tomb fhould pierce the fkies.
Prefumptuous fear! how durft I dread her foes,
While nature's loudeft dictates 1 obey'd?
Pardon neceflity, bleft fhade! of grief
And indignation rival bursts I pour'd;
Half-execration mingled with my prayer;
E
Kindled at man, while I his GoD ador'd;
Sore-grudg'd the favage land her facred duft;
Stampt the curft foil; and with humanity
(Deny'd Narciffa) wifh'd them all a grave.
Glows my refentment into guilt! what guilt Can equal violations of the dead?
The dead how facred! facred is the duft
Of this heav'n-labour'd form, erect, divine !
This heav'n-affum'd majestic robe of earth,
He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast expanfe
With azure bright, and cloth'd the fun in gold.
When ev'ry paffion fleeps that can offend;
When ftrikes us ev'ry motive that can melt;
When man can wreak his rancour uncontroul'd,
That strongest curb on infult and ill-will;
Then, fpleen to duft? the duft of innocence ;
An angel's duft?This Lucifer transcends;
When he contended for the patriarch's bones,
'Twas not the ftrife of malice, but of pride;
The ftrife of pontiff pride, not pontiff gall.
Far lefs than this is fhocking in a race
Moft wretched, but from streams of mutual love;
And uncreated, but for love divine;
And, but for love divine, this moment, loft,
By fate reforb'd, and funk in endless night.
Man, hard of heart to man! of horrid things
Moft horrid! 'mid ftupendous, highly strange!
Yet oft his courtefies are fmoother wrongs;
Pride brandishes the favours he confers,
And contumelious his humanity:
What then is vengeance? hear it not, ye stars!
And thou, pale moon! turn paler at the found;
Man is to man the foreft, furest ill.
A previous blaft foretells the rifing storm;
O'erwhelming turrets threaten ere they fall;
Volcanos bellow ere they difembogue;
Earth trembles ere her yawning jaws devour;
And smoke betrays the wide-consuming fire:
Ruin from man is moft conceal'd when near,
And fends the dreadful tidings in the blow.
Is this the flight of fancy? would it were!
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