It call'd Narciffa long before her hour;
It call'd her tender foul, by break of blifs,
From the first blossom, from the buds of joy;
Those few our noxious fate unblafted leaves
In this inclement clime of human life.

Sweet harmonift! and Beautiful as fweet!
And Young as beautiful! and Soft as young!
And Gay as foft! and Innocent as gay!
And Happy (if aught Happy here) as good!
For fortune fond had built her neft on high.
Like birds quite exquifite of note and plume,
Transfixt by fate (who loves a lofty mark),
How from the fummit of the grove the fell,
And left it unharmonious! All its charms
Extinguisht in the wonders of her fong!
Her fong ftill vibrates in my ravisht ear,
Still melting there, and with voluptuous pain
(0 to forget her!) thrilling through my heart!

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Song, Beauty, Youth, Love, Virtue, Joy! this group Of bright ideas, flowers of paradife,

As yet unforfeit! in one blaze we bind,

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Kneel, and present it to the skies; as All

We guess of heaven: and thefe were all her own.
And fhe was mine; and I was-was!-most bleft-
Gay title of the deepest misery!

As bodies grow more ponderous, robb'd of life;
Good loft weighs more in grief, than gain'd in joy.
Like bloffom'd trees o'erturn'd by vernal ftorm,
Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay;

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And if in death ftill lovely, lovelier There ;

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Far

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.

Soon as the luftre languifht in her eye,
Dawning a dimmer day on human fight;
And on her cheek, the refidence of spring,
Pale omen fat; and fcatter'd fears around
On all that faw (and who would ceafe to gaze,
That once had seen?) with haste, parental haste,
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) checkt his beam,
Deny'd his wonted fuccour; nor with more
Regret beheld her drooping, than the bells
Of lilies; faireft lilies, not fo fair!

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Queen lilies! and ye painted populace!
Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrofial lives;
In morn and evening dew, your beauties bathe,
And drink the fun; which gives your cheeks to glow,
And out-blush (mine excepted) every fair;

You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand,
Which often cropt your odours, incenfe meet
To thought fo pure! Ye lovely fugitives!
Coeval race with man! for man you fmile;
Why not smile at him too? You share indeed
His fudden pafs; but not his constant pain.

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So man is made, nought minifters delight,
By what his glowing paffions can engage;
And glowing paffions, bent on aught below,
Muft, foon or late, with anguish turn the scale;
And anguish, after rapture, how fevere!

Rapture? Bold man! who tempt'st the wrath divine, 140 By plucking fruit denied to mortal taste,

While here, prefuming on the rights of heaven.

For transport doft thou call on every hour,

Lorenzo? At thy friend's expence, be wise;

Lean not on earth; 'twill pierce thee to the heart; 145 A broken reed, at beft; but, oft, a fpear;

On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires.

Turn, hopeless thought! turn from her:-Thought repell'd

Resenting rallies, and wakes every woe.

Snatch'd ere thy prime! and in thy bridal hour!
And when kind fortune, with thy lover, smil'd!

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And when high flavour'd thy fresh opening joys!
And when blind man pronounc'd thy bliss complete!
And on a foreign fhore; where strangers wept!
Strangers to Thee; and, more furprising still,
Strangers to Kindness, wept: their eyes let fall
Inhuman tears; ftrange tears! that trickled down
From marble hearts! obdurate tendernefs!
A tenderness that call'd them more fevere;

In spite of nature's foft perfuafion, steel'd;
While nature melted, fuperftition rav'd;

That mourn'd the dead; and this denied a grave.

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Their fighs incens'd; fighs foreign to the will!
Their will the tiger fuck'd, outrag'd the storm.
For, oh! the curft ungodlinefs of zeal!
While finful fleb relented, spirit nurk
In blind infallibility's embrace,
The fainted fpirit petrify'd the breast;
Deny'd the charity of dust, to spread
O'er duft! a charity their dogs enjoy.

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What could I do? What fuccour? What refource?

With pious facrilege, a grave I ftole;

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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 ftep, and muffled deep
In midnight darkness, whisper'd my last figh.
I whisper'd what should echo through their realms;
Nor writ her name, whofe tomb should pierce the skies.
Prefumptuous fear! How durft I dread her foes,

While nature's loudeft dictates I obey'd?
Pardon neceffity, bleft fhade! Of grief
And indignation rival bursts I pour'd;
Half execration mingled with my prayer;
Kindled at man, while I his God ador'd;
Sore grudg'd the savage land her facred duft;
Stampt the curft foil; and with humanity
(Denied Narciffa) wish'd them all a grave.
Glows my refentment into guilt? What guilt
Can equal violations of the dead?

The dead how facred! Sacred is the duft

Of this heaven-labour'd form, erect, divine!

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VOL. II.

E

This

This heaven-affum'd majestic robe of earth,
He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast expanfe
With azure bright, and cloath'd the fun in gold.
When every paffion fleeps that can offend;
When ftrikes us every motive that can melt;
When man can wreak his rancour uncontrol'd,
That strongest curb on infult and ill-will;
Then, fpleen to duft? the duft of innocence ?
An angel's duft?This Lucifer tranfcends;
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.
For lefs than This is fhocking in a race
Most 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 ftrange!
Yet oft his courtefies are fmoother wrongs;
Pride brandishes the favours He confers,
And contumelious his humanity:

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What then his vengeance? Hear it not, ye

And thou, pale moon! turn paler at the found;
Man is to man the foreft, fureft ill.

A previous blast foretels 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-confuming fire:

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