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Some wanderer, whom I would not meet,
may Whom ye should dread as much as I. How calm, amid these scenes, my
mind! How perfect is the peace I find ! Oh hush, be still, my every part, My tongue, my pulse, my beating heart ! That Love, aspiring to its cause, May suffer not a moment's pause. Ye swift-finn'd nations, that abide In seas as fathomless as wide ; And unsuspicious of a snare, Pursue at large your pleasures there: Poor sportive fools ! how soon does man Your heedless ignorance trepan! Away! dive deep into the brine, Where never yet sunk plummet-line; Trust me, the vast leviathan Is merciful, compared with man; Avoid his arts, forsake the beach, And never play within his reach! My soul her bondage ill endures ; I pant for liberty like yours; I long for that immense profound, That knows no bottom, and no bound; Lost in infinity, to prove The incomprehensible of Love. Ye Birds ! that lessen as ye fly, And vanish in the distant sky; To whom yon airy waste belongs, Resounding with your cheerful songs ;
Haste to escape from human sight!
THE VICISSITUDES EXPERIENCED
I suffer fruitless anguish day by day,
my pain; Scarce knowing whither, doubtfully I stray,
And see no end of all that I sustain.
The more I strive the more I am withstood;
Anxiety increasing every hour,
power. My peace of heart is fled, I know not where;
My happy hours, like shadows, pass'd away; Their sweet remembrance doubles all my care,
Night darker seems, succeeding such a day.
Dear faded joys, and impotent regret,
What profit is there in incessant tears ?
Reveal thy Love, and banish all my fears !
Alas! He flies me-treats me as his foe,
Views not my sorrows, hears not when I plead; Woe such as mine, despised, neglected woe,
Unless it shortens life, is vain indeed.
Pierced with a thousand wounds, I yet survive;
My pangs are keen, but no complaint transpires ; And while in terrors of thy wrath I live,
Hell seems to lose its less tremendous fires.
Has Hell a pain I would not gladly bear,
So thy severe displeasure might subside ? Hopeless of ease, I seem already there,
My life extinguish'd, and yet death denied. Is this the joy so promised ?—this the love,
The unchanging love, so sworn in better days ? Ah! dangerous glories ! shown me, but to prove
How lovely Thou, and I how rash to gaze.
Why did I see them ? had I still remain'd
Untaught, still ignorant how fair thou art, My humbler wishes I had soon obtain’d,
Nor known the torments of a doubting heart. Deprived of all, yet feeling no desires,
Whence then, I cry, the pangs that I sustain ? Dubious and uninform’d, my soul inquires,
Ought she to cherish, or shake off her pain ? Suffering, I suffer not; sincerely love,
Yet feel no touch of that enlivening flame; As chance inclines me, unconcern'd I move,
All times, and all events, to me the same.
I search my heart, and not a wish is there,
may Such is the sad disquietude I share,
A sea of doubts, and self the source of all.
I ask not life, nor do I wish to die;
And if thine hand accomplish not my cure, I would not purchase with a single sigh,
A free discharge from all that I endure. I groan in chains, yet want not a release ;
Am sick, and know not the distemper'd part; Am just as void of
purpose as of
peace ; Have neither plan, nor fear, nor hope, nor heart. My claim to life, though sought with earnest care,
No light within me or without me shows;
chief cordial and my best repose.