Hail, awful Madness, hail! Thy realm extends, thy powers prevail, Far as the voyager spreads his venturous sail. Nor best nor wisest are exempt from thee; Folly Folly's only free. Hark! To the astonish'd ear The gale conveys a strange tumultuous sound. They now approach, they now appear,Phrenzy leads her chorus near And Demon's dance around. Pride Ambition idly vain, Revenge, and malice swell her train,— Devotion warp'd — Affection crost- And injured merit, with a downcast eye, Mirth unmeaning-causeless moans, All seem to pierce the skies.— Rough as the wintry wave, that wars Wild raving to the unfeeling air, (Rage the burden of his jarring song) In rage he grinds his teeth, and rends his streaming hair. No pleasing memory left-forgotten quite Connubial love-parental joy No sympathies like these his soul employ, -But all is dark within, all furious black despair. Not so the love-lorn maid, By too much tenderness betray'd, Her gentle breast no angry passion fires, But slighted vows possess, and fainting, soft desires. She yet retains her wonted flame, All-but in reason, still the same. Streaming eyes, Incessant sighs. Dim haggard looks, and clouded o'er with care, Point out to pity's tears, the poor distracted fair. Dead to the world-her fondest wishes crost! She mourns herself thus early lost. Now, sadly gay, of sorrows past she sings, Big with conceit of dignity he smiles, And plots his frolics quaint, and unexpected wiles, Laughter was there-but mark that groan, "Give the knife, Demons, or the poison'd bowl, "To finish miseries equal to your own” Who's this wretch, with horror wild! 'Tis devotion's ruin'd child. Sunk in the emphasis of grief, Nor can he feel, nor dares he ask relief. Thou, fair Religion, wast design'd, To warm, and cheer the human mind, The God, the Father of us all. First shown by thee, thus glow'd the gracious scene, 'Till Superstition, friend of woe, Bade doubts to rise, and tears to flow, And spread deep shades our view and heaven between. Drawn by her pencil the Creator stands, His beams of mercy thrown aside, With thunder arming his uplifted hands, And hurling vengeance wide. Hope, at the frown aghast, yet lingering, flies, And dash'd on terrour's rocks, Faith's best de pendence lies. |