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Loud Sorrows howl, invenom'd Pafions bite,
Rav'nous Calamities our Vitals seize,
And threat'ning Fate wide opens to devour.

What then am I, who forrow for myself?
In Age, in Infancy, from others Aid
Is all our Hope ; to-teach us to be kind.
That, Nature's fort, laft Lesson to Mankind;
The selfish Heart deferves the Pain it feels.
More gen'rous Sorrow, while it finks, exalts;
And conscious Virtue mitigates the Pang.
Nor Virtue, more than Prudence, bids me give:
Swoln Thought a second Channel; who divide,
'They weaken too, the Torrent of their Grief..
Take then, Q World! thy much-indebted. Tear :
How fad a Sight is, human Happiness,
To those whose Thought can pierce beyond an Hour ?
O thou, whate'er thou art, whose Heart exults !
Wouldst thou I should congratulate thy Fate ?
I know thou wouldit; thy Pride demands it from me.
Let thy Pride pardon, what. thy Nature needs,
The falutary Censure of a Friend..
Thou happy Wretch! by. Blindness thou art bleft;
By Dotage dandled.to perpetual Smiles..
Know, Smiler! at thy Peril art thou pleas'd;
Thy Pleasure is the Promise of thy Pain...
Misfortune, like a Creditor fevere,
But rises in Demand for her Delay ;
She makes a Scourge of past Prosperity,
To-fling thee more, and double thy Distress..

LORENZO, Fortune makes her Court to thee: .
Thy fond Heart dances, while the Syren fings..
Dear is thy Welfare; think me not unkind ;;
I would not damp, but to secure thy Joys.
Think not that Fear is sacred to the Storm..
Stand on thy Guard against the Smiles of Fate..

Is Heav'n tremendous in its Frowns ? Moft sure;
And in its Favours formidable too:
Its Favours here are Trials, not Rewards ;
A Call to Duty, not Discharge from Care ;
And should alarm us, full as much as Woes ;;
Awake us to their Cause, and Confequence;
And make us tremble, weigh'd with our Desert;
Awe Nature's Tumult, and chastise her Joys,
Left while we clasp, we kill them ; nay, invert
To worse than fimple Misery, their Charms.
Revolted Joys, like Foes in civil War,
Like bosom Friendships to Resentment four'd,
With Rage invenom'd rise against our Peace.
Beware what Earth calls Happiness; beware.
All Joys, but Joys that never can expire.-
Who builds on less than an immortal. Bafe;
Fond as he seems, condemns his. Joys to Death.

Mine dy'd with thee,. PHILANDER! thy last Sigh
Diffolv'd the Charm ; the disinchanted Earth
Loft all her Luftre. Where, her glitt'ring Towers ?
Her golden Mountains, where? all darken'd down
To naked Waste; a dreary Vale of Tears : :
The great Magician's dead! Thou-poor, -pale Piece
Of out-cast Earth, in Darkness!. what a Change.
From Yesterday.!. Thy darling Hope so near, .
(Long-labour'd Prize!): how Ambition flush'd
Thy glowing Cheek!. Ambition, truly great,
Of virtuous Praise.. Death's subtle Seed. within,
(Sly, treach'rous Miner:!) working in the Dark,
Smild at thy.well-concerted Scheme, -and beckonid
The Worm to riot on that Rose so red,
Unfaded ere it fell; one Moment's Prey!

Man's Forefigho is conditionally wise ; Lorenzo! Wisdom into Folly turns, Oft, the first Instant, its Idea fair

B. 6.

Το)

To labouring Thought is born. How dim our Eye !
The present Moment terminates our Sight;
Clouds, thick as those on Doomsday, drown the next;
We

penetrate, we prophesy in vain.
Time is dealt out by Particles ; and each,
Ere mingled with the streaming Sands of Life,
By Fate's inviolable Oath is fivorn
Deep Silence, “ Where Eternity begins."

By Nature's Law, what may be, may be now ;
There's no Prerogative in human Hours.
In human Hearts what bolder Thought can rise,
Than Man's Presumption on To-morrow's Dawn!
Where is To-morrow? In another World.
For Numbers this is certain ; the Reverse
Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps,
This Peradventure, infamous for Lyes,
As on a Rock of Adamant we build
Our Mountain Hopes ; fpin our eternal Schemes,
As we the fatal Sisters would out-spin,
And, big with Life's Futurities, expire.

Not ev'n PHILANDER had bespoke his Shroud.
Nor had he Cause; a Warning was. deny'd:
How

many fall as sudden, not as safe!
As sudden, tho' for Years admonish'd home.
Of human Ills the last Extreme beware,
Beware, LORENZO ! allow-fudden Death,
How dreadful that deliberate Surprize!
Be wise To-day; "Tis Madness to defer;:
Next Day the fatal Precedent will plead;.
Thus on, till Wisdom is push'd out of Life..
Procrastination is the Thief of Time;
Year after year it steals, till all are fed,
And to the Mercies of a Moment leaves:
The vaft Concerns of an eternal Scene...

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If not so frequent, would not This be strange
That 'tis so frequent, This is stranger still.

Of Man's miraculous Mistakes, this bears
The Palm, " That all Men are about to live,”
For ever on the Brink of being born.
All pay themselves the Compliment to think
They one Day shall not drivel; and their Pride
On this Reversion takes up ready Praise;
At least their own-; their future Selves applauds;
How excellent that "Life they ne'er will lead !
Time lodg'd in their own Hands is Folly's Vails;
That lodg'd in Fate's, to Wisdom they confign;
'The Thing they can't but purpose, they postpone :
'Tis not in Folly, not to scorn a Fool;
And scarce in human Wisdom to do more.
All Promise is poor dilatory Man,
And that thro' ev'ry Stage: When young, indeed,
In full Content we, sometimes, nobly reft,
Un-anxious for ourselves; and only wish,
As duteous Sons, our Fathers were more wise.
At Thirty Man suspects himself a Fool;
Knows it at Forty, and reforms his Plan;
At Fifty chides his infamous Delay,
Pushes his prudent Purpose to Resolve ;
In all the Magnanimity of Thought
Resolves.; and re-resolves.; then dies the same..

And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All Men think all. Men mortal, bat Themselves;
Themselves, when some alarming Shock of Fate
Strikes through their wounded Hearts the sudden Dread;
But their Hearts wounded, like the wounded Air,
Soon close; where past the Shaft, no Trace is found..
As from the Wing no Scar the Sky retains ;
The parted Wave no Furrow from the Keel;
So dies in human Hearts the 'Thought of Death.

Ev'n with the tender Tear which Nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their Grave.-
Can I forget PHILANDER ? That were strange ;
0
my

full Heart ! -But should I give it Vent; The longest Night, tho' longer far, would fail, And the Lark listen to my Midnight Song.

The sprightly Lark's. Prill Matin wakes the Morn
Grief's sharpeft Thorn hard pressing on my Breast,
I strive, with wakefal Melody, to chear,
The sullen Gloom, sweet Philomel! like Thee,
And call the Stars. to listen : Ev'ry Star
Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy Lay.
Yet be not vain ; there are, who thine excel,
And charm thro' distant Ages :: Wrapt in Shade,
Pris'ner of Darkness ! to the filent Hours,
How often I repeat their Rage divine,
To lull my Griefs, and steal :

I my Heart from Woe!
I roll their Raptures, but not catch their: Fire..
Dark, tho' not blind, like thee, Mæonides!
Qr, Miltaz.. thee; ah ! could I reach your Strain !!
Or His, who made Mæonides our Own..
Man too He sung: Immortal. Man I.fing;:
Oft bursts my Song beyond the Bounds of Life ;
What, now, but Immortality can please?

had He press’d his Theme, pursu'd the Track, Which opens out of Darkness into Day!.

had he mounted on his Wing of Fire, Soar'd, where I sink, and sung Immortal Man!: How had it bleft Mankind, and rescu'd me!

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NIGHT

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