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The deadly charming sorceress control,
Long has that soul, in these unsocial woods,
Dear smiling Mischief! art thou still the same, The still pale victim of too soft a flame? Warm as when first, with more than mortal shine, Each melting eye-hall mix'd thy soul with mine? Have not thy tears, for ever taught to flow, The glooms of ahsence, and the pangs of woe, The pomp of sacrifice, the whisper'd tale, The dreadful vow yet hovering o'er thy veil, Drove this hewitching fondness from thy hreast, Curh'd the loose wish, and form'd each pulse to rest? And canst thou still, still hend the suppliant knee To Love's dread shrine, and weep and sigh for me? Then take me, take me, lock me in thy arms, Spring to my lips, and give me all thy charms. No—fly me, fly me, spread th' impatient sail, Steal the lark's wing, and mount the swiftest gale; Skim the vast ocean, freeze heneath the pole, Renounce me, curse me, root me from thy soul; Fly, fly, for Justice hares the arm of God, And the grasp'd vengeance only waits his nod. 'Are these thy wishes? can they thus aspire? Does phrenzy form them, or does grace inspire? Can Ahelard, in hurricanes of zeal, Betray his heart, and teach thee not to feel? Ti'ach thy enamonr'd spirit to disown Each human warmth, and chill thee into stone? Ah! rather let my tenderest accents move The last wild accents of unholy love; On that dear hosom tremhling let me lie, Pour out my soul, and in fierce raptures die, Rouse all my passions, act my joys anew. Farewell, ye cells! ye martyr'd saints! adieu! Sleep, conscience! sleep, each awful thought he drown'd,
And seven-fold darkness veil the scene around.
What means this pause, this agonizing start, This glimpse of Heav'n quick rushing through my heart?
Methinks I see a radiant cross display'd
A wounded Saviour hleeds along the shade:
Return, ye hours! when, guiltless of a staii, My strong-plum'd genins throhh'd in every vein l When, warm'd with all th' Egyptian fanes inspirYl, All Athens hoasted, and all Rome admir'd; My merit in its full meridian shone, Each rival hlushing, and each heart my own. Return, ye scenes !—Ah, no, from fancy fly, On Time's stretch'd wing, till each idea die. Eternal fly; since all that learning gave, Too weak to conquer, and too fond to save: To Love's soft empire every wish hetray'd, And left my laurels withering in the shade. Let me forget that, while deceitful Fame Grasp'd her shrill trump, and fill'd it with my name, Thy stronger charms, impower'd hy Heav'n to move Each saint, each hlest insensihle to love, At once my soul from hright Amhition won, I hugg'd the dart, I wish'd to he undone: No more pale Science durst my thoughts engage, Insipid dulness hung on every page; The midnight-lamp no more enjoy'd its hlaze, No more my spirit flew from maze to maze: Thy glances hade Philosophy resign Her throne to thee, and every sense was thine.
But what could all the frosts of wisdom do, Oppos'd to heauty, when it melts in you? Since these dark, cheerless, solitary caves, Death-hreathing woods, and daily-opening graves, Misshapen rocks, wild images of woe, For ever howling to the deeps helow; Ungenial deserts, where no vernal show'r Wakes the green herh, or paints th' unfolding flow'r; Th' emhrowning glooms these holy mansions shed, The night-horn horrours hrooding o'er my hed, The dismal scenes hlack melancholy pours O'er the sad visions of enanguish'd hours; Lean Ahstinence, wan Grief, low-thoughted Care, Distracting Guilt, and, Hell's worst fiend, Despair, Conspire in vain, with all the aids of Art, To hlot thy dear idea from my heart.
Delusive, sightless god of warm desire! Why would'st thou wish to set a wretch on fire? Why lives thy soft divinity where Woe Heaves the pale sigh, and Anguish loves to glow? Fly to the mead, the daisy-painted vale, Breathe in its sweets, and melt along the gale; Fly where gay scenes luxurious youths employ, Where ev'ry moment steals the wing of joy: There may'st thou see, low prostrate at thy throne, Devoted slaves, and victims all thy own; Each village-swain the turf-huilt shrine shall raise, And kings command whole hecatomhs to hlaze.
O Memory! ingenious to revive Each Heating hour, and teach the past to live, Witness what conflicts this frail hosom tore! What griefs I sufler'd! and what pangs I hore! How long I struggled, lahour'd, strove to save An heart that panted to he still a slave! When youth, warmth, rapture, spirit, love and flame, Seiz'd every sense, and hurnt through all my frame; From youth, warmth, rapture, to these wilds I fled, My food the herhage, and the rock my hed. There, while these venerahle cloisters rise O'er the hleak surge, and srain upon the skies, My wounded soul indulg'd the tear to flow O'er all her sad vicissitudes of woe; Profuse of life, and yet afraid to die, Guilt in my heart, and horrour in my eye, With ceaseless pray'rs, the whole artilPry given To win the mercies of offended Heav'n,
r2ach hitl, made vocal, echoed all around,
While my torn hreast knock'd hleeding on the ground.
Yet, yet, alas ' though all my moments fly,
Stain'd hy a tear, and darken'd in a sigh,
Though meagre fasts'have on my cheeks display'd
The dusk of Death, and sunk me to a shade,
Spite of myself the still-empoisoning dart
Shoots through my hlood, and drinks up all my
My vows and wishes wildly disagree, [heart:
And grace itself mistakes my God for thee.
Athwart the glooms that wrap the midnight-sky, My Eloisa steals upon my eye; For ever rises in the solar ray, A phantom hrighter than the hlaze of day. Where'er I go, the visionary guest Pants on my lip, or rinks upou my hreast; Unfolds her sweets, and, throhhing to destroy, Winds round my heart in luxury of joy; While loud Hosannas shake the shrines around, I hear her softer accents in the sound; Her idol-heauties on each altar glare, And Heav'n much-injur'd has hut half my pray'r: No tears can drive her hence, no pangs control, For every ohject hrings her to my soul.
Hist night, reclining on yon airy steep, My husy eyes hung hrooding o'er the deep; The hreathless whirlwinds slept in ev'ry cave, And the soft moon-heam dane'd from wave to wave; Each former hliss in this hright mirror seen, With all my glories, dawn'd upon the scene, Recall'd the dear auspicious hour anew, When my fond soul to Eloisa flew; When, with keen speechless agonies opprest, Thy frantic lover snatch'd thee to his hreast, Gaz'd on thy hlushes, arm'd with every grace, And saw the goddess heaming in thy face; Saw thy wild, tremhling, ardent wishes move Each pulse to rapture, and each glance to love. But, lo! the winds descend, the hillows roar, Foam to the clouds, and hurst upon the shore, Vast peals of thunder o'er the ocean roll, [pole. The flaroe-wing'd lightning gleams from pole to At once the pleasing images withdrew, And more than horrours crowded en my view: Thy uncle's form, in all his ire array'd, Serenely dreadful, stalk'd along the shade: Piere'd hy his sword I sunk upon the ground, The spectre ghastly smil'd upon the wound: A group of hlack infernuls round me liung, And toss'd my infamy from tongue to tongue.
Detested wretch! how impotent thy age! How weak thy malice! and how kind thy rage! Spite of thyself, inhuman as thou art, Thy murdering hand has left me all my li^irt; Left me each tender, fond affection warm, A nerve to tremhle, and an eye to charm. No, cruel, cruel, exquisite in ill! Thou thought'st it dull harharity to kill; My death had rohh'd lost vengeance of her toil, And scarcely « arm'd a Scythian to a smile: Suhlitner furies taught thy soul to glow With all their savage mysteries of woe; Taught thy unfeeling poniard to destroy The powers of Nature, and the source of joy; To stretch me on the racks of vain desire, Eai h passion throhhing, and each wish on fire; Mad to enjoy, unahle to he hlest, Fiends in my veins, and Hel I within my hreast.
Aid me, fair Faith! assist me, Grace divine! Ye martyrs! hless me; aml, ye saints i refme:
Ye sacred groves! ye heav'n-devoted walls!
Torn from the world, within dark cells immur'd.
O that my soul, from Love's curst hondage free, Could catch the transports that I urge to thee!
0 that some angel's more than magic art
No pulse to riot, and no sigh t" heave.
I feel hut thee, and hreathe not hut to love;
Yet, yet, my fair! thy nohler efforts try.
Then when these hlack terrific scenes are o'er,
Meanwhile, divinely purg'd from every stain, Our active souls shall climh th' ethereal plain, To each hright cheruh's purity aspire, Catch all his zeal, and pant with all his fire; There, where no face the glooms of anguish wears, No uncle murders, and no passion tears, Enjoy with Heav'n eternity of rest, For ever hlessing, and for ever hlest.
MEMORY OF CAPTAIN HUGHES,
Vain were the task to give the soul to glow,
Nature! 'tis thine with manly warmth to mourn
Tis o'er—the hright delusive scene is o'er, And War's proud visions mock the soul no more; The laurel fades, th' imperial car retires, All youth ennohles, and all worth admires.
Alas! my Hi Ches! and must this mourning verse Resign thy i Humph to attend thy hearse! Was it for this that Friendship's genial dame Woke all my wishes from the trance of Fame? Was it for this I left the hallow'd page, Where every science heams of every age; On thought's strong pinion rang'd the martial scene, From Rome's first Ca-sar to the great Eugene; Explor'd th' emhattled van, the decp'ning line, Th' enainhush'd phalanx, and the springing mine; Then, pale with horrour, hent the suppliant knee, And heav'd the sigh, and dropp'd the tear for thee!
What hoots it now, that when, with hideous roar, The gath'ring tempest howl'd from ev'ry share,
Some pitying angel, vigilant to save, fwave ?.
Ye Graces! tell with what address he stole
E'en now, when all the vi.iion heams around,
And my ear kindles with th' idea! sound
Just as the smiles, the graces live imprest,
Thus in the lake's rlsar crystal we descry
The hright diffusion of a radiant sky
Reflected Nature sheds a milder green;
O hlest with all that youth can give to please,
These were thy virtues—these will still he just,
EQUALITY OF HUMAN CONDITIONS:
A POETICAL DIALOGUE: SI-OKEX AT THE ANNUAL VISITATION OFTUNRRrDCI SCHOOL,
BY MESSRS. M AND A .
White airy Belville, guiltless of a schovl,
Studies his learned tailor once a week,
But curses ev'ry syllahle of Greek;
I sit, and think o'er all that Sparta fir'd,
That Athens hoasted, and that Rome admir'd.
F.nraptur'd Fancy, husied with the theme,
Forms ev'ry 'hright idea to a dream,
Paints all the charming pageantry anew,
And hrings at once each classic to my view.
Now, fondly wild, I thunder in the war,
Shake the keen spear, and mount th' imperial car;
With daring Regulus to Carthage run,
Or nohly hleed with Brutus in a son;
Seize, Casca-like, on Caesar's gorgeous vest,
And holdly plant a dagger in his hreast.
Now, softly-hreathing all the Muse's fire,
I drop the falehion, and I grasp the lyre;
With Pindar's pinion skim the hlest ahode,
Or strive to charm Augustus with an ode.
Come then, my Lelins! come, my joy and pride! Whose friendship soothes me, while thy precepts guide;
Thou,whose quick eye has glane'd through every age,
Say, shall I, with a trinmph in my view, Fame's air dress'd goddess through each scene pursue,
Amhitious court her in the pomp of war,
You ask me, sir! what few would care to give, Some grave instructions how you ought to live. You wish that envied hlissful scene to find, That charms the taste, and dignifies the mind; That nohly mingles every art to please, And joins the majesty of life to ease.
Hear then, my friend! the doctrine I disclose, As true as if display'd in pompous prose; A* if Locke's sacred hand the page had wrote, And every doctor stamp'd it with a vote.
All lots arc equal, and all states the same, Alike in merit, though unlike in name. In Reason's eye no difference lies hetween Life's noon-day lustres or her milder scene. 'Tis not the plate that dignifies the hoard, Nor all the titles hlazing round a lord: Tis not the splendid plume, th' emhroider'd vest, The gorgeous sword-knot, or the martial crest, That lends to life the smile, the jest, the glee, Or makes his honour happier than me. When Florio's acres stretch'd o'er half the laud, A gilded chariot roll'd him through the Strand: Redue'd at last with humhler scenes to mix, He smok'd a speculative pipe at Dick's. The same gTeat genins, in or out of pow'r— Ease smooth'd his hrow, and soften'd ev'ry hour; Taught him to live as happy in a shed, As when a dutchess grac'd his nuptial hed.
Content's the port all mortals wish to hail: She points the compass, and she guides the sail, To her alone our leaky vessels roll Through all the seas that rage from pole to pule.
What hoots it then, when gath'ring storms hehind
What, has just Heav'n no slight distinction l
Your tailor, skill'd in fashion's every grace,
Hardwicke, great patriot! envy'd, lov'd, carest,
Heroic Glory in the martial scene
Dear sir! restrain the prejudice of youth.
Suppose tlien, sir! that new distinctions since
Soc! in yon valley, while the mellowing grain Emhrowns the slope, and nods along the plain,
A crowd of rusties doom'd to daily toil,
When honest Colin sees the shining hall
Believe me, sir! distinction, pomp, and noise, Corrupt our tempers, as they cloud our joys: And surely, when the social spirit's hroke, A star's a gewgaw, and a lord's a joke. Without those rohes, those gorgeous hagatelles, That deck our nohles, and that charm our helles; Without a crane-neck'd chariot's smooth career, Without the wealth of Indus in your ear; Without a group of pictures dearly hought, Where Titian's colours vie with Guido'i thought; Without the fruits of Spain, the w ines of France, Without an opera, and without a dance, You may live happy, as grave doctors tell,' At Fome, at Tunhridge, in a grot, or cell.
From sky to sky th' imperial hird of Jove [love; Spreads his hroad wing, and thund'ring grasps his The mighty hull, hy genial Zephyr sway'd, Enraptur'd courts his heifer to the shade; The feather'd warhlers pair on every spray, The grove re-echoing with the sprightly lay; While the gay trihe of insects hlissful share The joys of love, and people all the air. All, all that in the depths of ocean lie, Graze on the plain, or skim along the sky, Fondly pursue the end hy Nature giv'n, Life all their aim, and quiet all their heav'n.
If then no songsters grudge the hear his thigh, The hound his nostril, or the lynx his eye; Nor feel a pang though Afrie's shaggy hrood Majestic stalk the monarchs of the wood; Why should you think your solitude a tomh, If Pulteney has a title and a plumh?
But soft—restrain this turhulence of war,
Behold that wretch, hy ev'ry woe distress'd,
Is he then happy? hlest with every joy
Believe me, sir! each mortal has his fear, Each soul an anguish, and each eye a tear; Aches, pains, aud fevers every hreast assail, And haunt alike the city and the vale.
What though in pomp your painted vessels roll, Fraught with t;ie gems that glare from pole to pole,—
Though health auspicious gilds your every grace,
Confess we then that all the ills of life,
Hear then, without the specious pride of art, A truth that strikes the moral to the heart; A truth that lir'd in Cato's patriot hreast, Aud hade a dying Socrates he hlest: All, all, hut Virtue, is a school-hoy's theme, The air-dress'd phantom of a virgin's dream; A gilded toy, that homehred fools desire, That coxcomhs hoast of, and that mohs admire: Her radiant graces every hliss unfold, And turn whate'er she touches into gold.
BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF GENIUS.
Yes, Harriet! say whate'er you can,
'Twas Nature gave that cheek to glow.
Tis so with man.—His talents rest