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Where look for fuccour: Where, but up to thee, | Lets fall a supernumerary horror,
Almighty Father? Save, O fave, thy suppliant And only serves to make thy night more irksome,
From horrors fuch as these! At thy good time Well do I know thee by thy trufty yew,
LerDeath approach; I reck not let him but come Cheerless, unsocial plant ! that loves to dwell
In genuine form, not with thy vengeance arm'd, 'Midt fcalls and coffins, epitaphs and worms;
Too inuch for man to bear. O rather lend Where light-heel'd ghosts, and visionary thades,
Thy kindly aid to mitigate his ftroke;

Beneath the wan cold moon (as fame reports)
And at that hour when all aghaft I ftand Embodied thick, perform their myftic rounds.
(A trembling candidate for thy compaffion) No other inerriment, dull tree !' is thine.
On this World's brink, and lock into the next; See yonder hallov'd fane! the pious work
When my foul starting from the dark unknown of names once fam’d, now dubious or forgor,
Cafts back a wishful look, and fondly clings And buried 'midtthe wreck of things which were;
To her frail prop, unwilling to be wrench'd There lie interr'd the more illustrious dead.
From this fair fcene, from all her custom'd joys, The wind is up: hark how it howls ! Methinks,
And all the lovely relatives of life ;

Till now, I never heard a found so dreary : [bird Then fhed thy coinforts o'er me, then put on Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul

The gentlcft of thy looks. Let no dark crimes, Rook'd in the spire screams loud; the gloomy iles In all

their hideous forns then starting up, Black plafter'd, and hung round with threds of Plant themselves round my couch in grim array, fcutcheons, And stab my bleeding heart with two-cdg'd' And tatter'd coats of arms, send back the found torture,

Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults, Sense of paft guilt, and dread of future woe. The mansions of the dead. Rous'd from their Far be the ghaftly crew! And in their fread In grim array the grizly spectres rife, [Aumbers, Let cheerful Memory, from her pureft cells, Grir horrible, and obftinately fullen Lcad forth a goodly train of Virtues fair, Pass and repass, hush'd as the foot of night. Cherish'd in carlieft youth, now paying back Again! the screech-owlfhricks: ungracious sound! With tenfold usury the pious carc,

I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chill. And pouring o'er my wounds the heav'nly balm Quite round the pile, a row of rev'rend elms, Of conscious innocence. But chiefly Thou, Coeval near with that all ragged Meiv, Whom foft-eyed Pityonce led down from Heav'n Long laflı’d by the rude winds: fome rift half darva To bleed for man, to tcach him how to live, Their branchlefs trunks: others fo thin a-top, And, oh! ftill harder lesson ! how to die; That scarce two crows couid lodge in the fame Disdain not Thou to smooth the reflets bed

tree.

[pen'd here: Of Sickness and of Pain. Forgive the tear Strange things, the neighbours say, have hap. That feeble Nature drops, calm all her fears, Wild Thrieks have issued from the hollow combs: Wake all her hopes, and animate her faith, Dead. men have come again, and walk'd about; Till my rapt Soul, anticipating Heav'n, And the great bell has tolld, unrung, untouch'd. Bursts from the thraldom of incumbiring clay, Such tales their cheer, at wake or golliping, And on the wing of Extasy iphorne,

When it draws near to witching-time of night. Springs into Liberty, and Light, and Life. Oft in the lone church-yard at night I've seen,

By glimpse of moon-thine, chequ’ring thro' the $ 56. The Grave. Roßt. BLAIR.

trees,

The school-boy, with his fatchel in his hand, The house appointed for all living. Jos. Whistling aloud to bear his courage up, WHILST some affe&t the sun, and some the And fightly tripping o'er the long har stones fhade,

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nettles fkirted, and with mors o'ergrown) Some fiee the city, some the hermitage That tell m homely-phrafe-who lie below; (Their aims as various as the roads they take Sudden he starts ! and hcars, or thinks he hears, In journcying through life) the task be mine The sound of fomething purring at his heels : To paint the gloomy torrors of the tomb; Fullfaft nc flies, and dares not look behind him, Th’appointed place of rendezvous, where all Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows; These trav’llers meet. Thy succours I implore, Who gather round and wonder at the tale Eternal King ! whose potent arm fukiains Of horrid apparition, tall and ghafly, The keys of hell and death. The Grave, dread That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand thing!

O'crfoine new-open'd grave; and, strange to tell ! Men thiver when thou'rt ram'd: Nature appal'd Eranishes at crowing of the cock. Shakes off her wonted firmnels. Ah! how dark The new-macie widow too I've sometimes spied, Thy long-extended scalms and ruefui vattes, Sad fight' flow inoving o'er the proftrate dead 1 Where nought but silence reigns, and night, dark Littlefs the crawls along in dołeful black, Dark as was Chaos cre the infant fun [night, While burfts of sorrow gush from either eye, Was rollid together, or had tried its beams Fast falling down her now untafted chcek. Athwart the gloom profound! The fickly taper, Prone on the lonely grave of the dear man By glimm'ring thro’thylow-brow'd misty vaults, she drops ; whilft busy meddling memory, Furr'd round with mouldy damps, and ropy flime, lo barbarous succession, musters up

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The past endearments of their lofter hours, That grudge a privilege thou never badít,
Tenacious of its theme. Still, ftill the thinks But only hop'd for in the peaceful Grave,
She fees him, and indulging the fond thought, Of being unmolested and alone.
Clings yet more closely to the senseless turf, Araby's gums and odoriferous drugs,
Nor heeds the paffenger who looks that way. And honors by the heralds duly paid

Invidious Grave! how dost thou rend in funder In mode and form, ev'n to a very scruple ;
Whom love has knit, and fympathy made one! O cruel irony ! thefe come too late ;
A tie more stubborn far than nature's band. And only mock whom they were meant to honor.
Friendship! myfterious cement of the foul ! Surely, there's not a dungeon-ílave that's burieu
Sweet'ner of life, and folder of fociety! In the highway, unshrowded and uncoffin'd,
I owe thee much. Thou haft deterv'd from me But lies as soft, and fleeps as found as ht.
Far, far beyond what I can ever pay.

Sorry pre-eminence of ingh defcent Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love, Above the vulgar, born to 10t in fate! And the warm efforts of thy gentle heart, But fee! the well-plum'd hearfe comes nodding Anxious to plcafe. O! whien my friend and I Stately and flow; and properly attended [on, In soine thick wood have wander'd heedless on, By the whole fable tribe, that painful watch Hid from the vulgar eye, and fat us down The fick man's door, and live upon the dead, Upon the floping cow flip-cover'd bank, By letting out their persons by the hour Where the pure limpid Itream has flid along To mimic forrow, when the heart's not fad ! In grateful errors thro’ the under-wood (thrush How rich the trappings, now they're all unfurl'd Sweet murm'ring, iticthought, the thrill-tongu'd And glittring in the sun! triumphant entries Mended his song of lort; the footy blackbird Of conquerors, and coronation pomps, Mellow'd his pipe, and soften'd ev'ry note ; In glory fcarce exceed. Great gluts of people The eglantine smell’d fweeter, and the role Retard th’unwieldly show; whilst from the cafeAflum'd a dye more decp; whilft ev'ry flower Vied with his fellow-plant in luxury

And house tops, ranks behind ranks close wedg'd, Of dress. Ó! then the longest summer's day Hang bellying o'er. But tell us, why this waite: Seem'd too, too much in hafte ; still the full heart Why this ado in earthing up a carcase Had not imparred half : 'twas happinefs That's fall'n into disgrace, and in the nostril Too exquisite to lait. Of joy's departed, Smells horrible ? Ye undertakers ! tell us, Not to return, how painful the remembrance ! 'Midst all the gorgeous figures you exhibit, Dull Grave! thou spoil'et the dance of youth. Why is the principal conccala, for which ful blood,

You make this mighty ftir: Tis wisely done : Strik'it out the dimple from the check of mirth, What would offend the eye in a good picture, And ev'ry finirking feature from the face; The Painter cafts discreetly into shados. Branding our laughter with the name of madness. Proud lincage, now how little thou appear'ít i Where are the jefters now? the man of health Below the envy of the private man! Complexionally pleasant where the droll, Honor, that meddlesome officious ill, Whole cv'ry look and gesture was a joke Pursues thee e'en to deach; nor urere fiops More, To clapping theatres and shouting crowds, Strange perfecution! when the grave itself And made ev'n thick-lipp'd musing Melancholy Is no protection from the rude fuffcrance. To gather up her face into a sinile

Abfurd ! to think to orer-reach the grave, Before the was aware? Ah! sullen now, And froin the wreck of naines to refcue ours! And dumb as the green turf that covers them! The best concerted fchemes men tay for fair

Where are the mighty thunderbolts of war, Die fast away: only themietres dié falter. The Roman Cæfars and the Græcian chiefs, The far-fam'd fculptor, and the laurel'J bard, The boast of story? Where the hot-brain'd youth, Thole bold infurers of cternal fame, Who the tiara at his pleasure tore

Supply their little feeble aids in vain., From kings of all the then discover'd globc ; The tap’ring pyramid, th’Egyptian's pride, And cried, torsooth, because his arm was ham. And wonder of the world! whofe spiky top And had not room cnough to do his work? [perd, Has wounded the thick cloud, and long out-lir'd Alas! how slim, dishonorably flim !

The angry thaking of the winter's storm; And cramm'd into a space we blush to namce Yet spent at last by th’injuries of heav'n, Proud royalty ! how alter'd in thy looks! Shatter'd with age, and furrow'd o'er with years, How blank thy features, and how wan thy hue! The inyític cone with hieroglyphics crutted, Son of the morning! whither art thou gone?

Gives way. O lamentable right! at oncc Where halt thou hid thy many-fplangled head, The labour of whole ages lumbers down, And the majestic menace of thine eyes

A hideous and mil-Shapen length of ruins. Felt from afar? pliant and porv'rlefs now; Sepulchral columns irrcitle but in vain Like new-born infant bound up in his twathes, With all-fubduing Time: her cank'ring land, Or victim tumbled fat upon his back,

With calm deliberate malice, warteth them : That throbs beneath the facrificer's knife; Worn on the edge of days, the brass confumes, Mute muft thou bear the strife of little tongues, The busto moulders, ani. the deep cut marble, And coward insults of the bafe-born crowd, Unsteady to the ftcel, gives up its charge.

Ambition,

Ambition, half convicted of her folly, The strong-built sincwy limbs and well-spread Hangs down the head, and reddens at the tale.

shoulders ? Here all the mighty troublers of the carth, See how he tugs for life, and lays about him, Who fivam to fovorcign rule thro' feas of blood; | Mad with his pain! eager he catches hold Th’opprefsive, sturdy, man-destroying villains, Of what comes next to hand, and grasps it hard, Who ravag'd kingdoms, and laid empires waste, Just like a creature drowning! hideous fight! And in a cruel wantonnefs of pow'r

O! how his eyes stand out, and stare full ghastly! Thinn'd states of half their people, and gave up Whilst the distemper's rank, and deadly venom To want the rest, now, like a storm that's spent, Shoots like a burning arrow cross his bowels, Lie huih'd, and mcanly sneak behind thy covert, And drinks his marrow up. Heard you that groan? Vain thought, to hide them from the gen'ral scorn, It was his last. See how the great Goliah, That haunts and dogs them like an injur'd ghost | Just like achild that brawl'd itself to rest, [boaster! Implacable. Here too, the petty tyrant,

Lies still. What mean'st thou then, o mighty Whole fcant domains geographer ne'er notic'd, Tovauntof nerves of thine? What means the bull, And well for neighb’ring grounds of arm as thort; Unconscious of his strength, to play the coward, Who fix'd his iron talons on the poor,

And flee before a feeble thing like man; And grip'd thein like fome lordly beast of prey, That knowing well the flackness of his arm, Deaf to the forceful cries of gnawing hunger, Trusts only in the well-invented knife! And pitcous plaintive voice of misery

With study pale, and midnight vigils spent, (As if a slave was not a shred of nature, The star-surveying sage close to his eye Of the same common nature with his lord) Applics the sight-invigorating tube ; Now tame and humble, like a child that's whipp’d, And trav’lling thro’the boundless length of space, Shakes hands with duft, and calls the worm his Marks well the courses of the far-feen orbs kintman ;

That roll with regular confusion there, Nor pleads his rank and birthright. Underground In extacy of thought. But ah! proud man! Precedency's a jeft; vallal and lord,

Great heights are hazardous to the weak head : Grossly familiar, fide by side consumc.

Soon, very foon, thy firmest footing fails;
When self-cllcem, or others adulation, And down thou dropp'st into that darksome place,
Would cunningly persuade us we were something Where nor device nor knowledge ever came.
Above the common level of our kind, [Hatt'ry, Here the tongue-warrior lies ! disabled now,
The grave gainlays the smooth-complexion's Disarm’d, dishonord, like a wretch that's gagg'd,
And with blunt truth acquaints us what we are. And cannot tell his ail to paffers-by. [change,

Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deccit! Great man of language ! whence this mighty
'That steals fo foftly o'er the stripling's heart, This dumb despair, and drooping of the head ?
And gives it a new pulse unknown before ! Though strong perfuafion hung upon thy Lip,
The Grave difcredits thee: thy charms expung’d, And Ily Infinuation's softer arts
Thy roles faded, and thy lilies foild,

In ambush lay about thy flowing tongue,
What hast thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers Alas! how chop-fall'n now! thick mifts and filence
Flock round the now,to gazeanddo thee homage? Reft, like a wcary cloud, upon thy breast
Methinks I fee thee with thy head low laid; Uncealing. Ah! where is the lifted arm,
Whilst furfeited upon thy damask chcek, The strength of action, and the force of words,
The high-fed worm in lazy volumes rolld, (The well-turn'd period, and the well-tun'd voice,
Riots unfcar'd. For this was all thy caution ? With all the lefler ornaments of phrase ?
For this thy painful labours at thy glass, Ah! fled for ever, as they ne'er had been !
T'improve those charms, and keep them in repair, Raz’dfrom the book of fame: or, more provoking,
For which the spoiler thanksthee not Foul feeder! Perhaps some hackney hunger-bittcn fcribbler
Coarse fare and carrion picase thee full as well, Insults thy memory, and blots thy tomb
And leave as kech a relish on the lente,

With long flat narrative, or duller rhimes Look how the fair one weeps' the con/cious tcars With heavy halting pace that drawl along; Szand thick as dew-drops on the bells of How'rs: Enough to rouze a dead man into rage, Aloncit cilusion! the swoln heart in vain

And warm with red resentment the wan cheek. Works hard to put a glofs on its distress. Here the great masters of the healing art,

Strength too! thou furly, and less genile boast | These mighty inock-dcfrauders of the tomb! Of those that laugh loud at the village ring! Spite of their juleps and catholicons, A fit of coinmon sickncís pulls thee down Resign to fate. Proud Ælculapius' son, With greater case than c'er thou didst the stripling Where are thy boasted implements of art, Thut rafhly dar’d thee to th’uncqual fight. And all thy well-cramın'd magazines of health? Whateroan was that I heard? decp groan indeed! Nor hill, nur vale, as far as ship could go, With anguish heavy laden! let me trace it : Nor margin of the gravel-bottom'd brook, From yonder bed it comes, where the strong man Escap'd thy ritling hand! from stubborn shrubs By stronger arım belabour'd, gasps for breath Thou wrung 'It their thy retiring virtues out, Like a häid hunted beait. llow his great heart And vex'd them in the fire ; nor fly, nor infect, Beats thick' his roomy chest by far too scant Nor writhy Inake, escap'd thy decp research. To give the lungs full play! what now avail But why this apparatus ? why this cost :

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Tell us, thou doughty keeper from the grave ! The ill-pleas'd guest to sit out his full time,
Where are thy recipes and cordials now, Or blame him if he goes? Sure he does well
With the long list of vouchers for thy cures ! That helps himlelf as timely as he can,
Alas! thou speak'ít not. The bold impostor When able. But if there is an hereafter
Looks not inore tilly when the cheat's found out. (And that there is, contience, uninfluenc'd

Here the lank-fided mifer, worst of felons ! And suffer'd to speak out, tells ev'iy man) Whu meanly stole, discreditable shift!

Then muft it be an awful thing to die; From back and belly too their proper cheer ; More horrid yet to die by one's own hand. Eas'd of a tax it irk'd the wretch to pay Self-murder! name it not ; our illand's Thaine, To his own carcafe, now lies cheaply lodg'd, That makes her the reproach of neighb'ring states. By clam'rous appetites no longer teaz’d, Shall nature, fiverving from her earliest dictate, Nor tedious bills of charges and repairs. Self-preservation, fall by her own act ? But, ah! where are his rents, his comings in ? Forbid it, Heav'n! let not upon disgust Aye! now you've made the rich man poor indeed: The shameless hand be foully crimton'd o'er Robb’d of his gods, what has he left behind ? With blood of its own lord. Dreadful attempt ! O cursed lust of gold! when for thy fake Just reeking from self-llaughter, in a rage, The fool throws up his int’rest in both worlds, To rush into the prefence of our Judge ! Firft starv'd in this, then damn'd in that to come. As if we challeng'd him to do his worst,

How shocking must thy summons be, O Death! And matter'd not his wrath. Unheard of tortures To him that is at ease in his poffefsions, Must be reserv'd for such: these herd together; Who, counting on long years of pleasure here, The common damn'd shun their fociety, Is quite unfurnish'd for that world to come! And look upon themselves as fiends leis foul. In that dread moment, how the frantic soul Our time is fix'd! and all our days are nuinber'd ! Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, How long, how short, we know not:this we know, Runs to each avenue, and thrieks for help, Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, But shrieks in vain ! how withfully she looks Nor dare to stir till Heav'n fhall give perinission: On all she's leaving, now no longer hers! Like centries that must keep their destin'd stand, A little longer, yet a little longer,

And wait th’appointed hour, till they're reliev'd. O might she

stay to wath away her stains, /Those only are the brave who keep their ground, And &t her for her passage! mournful sight!

land keep it to the last. To run away Her very eyes weep blood, and ev'ry groan

Is but a coward's trick : to run away She heaves is big with horror: but the foe, From this world's ills, that at the very worst Like a staunch murd'rer steady to his purpose, Will soon blow o'er, thinking to mend ourselves Pursues her close through ev'ry lane of life, By boldly vent’ring on a world unknown, Nor misses once the track, but presses on ; And plunging headlong in the dark! 'tis mad: Till, forc'd at last to the tremendous verge, No frenzy half so desperate as this. At once the finks to everlasting ruin.

Tell us, ye dead! will none of you in pity Sure 'tis a serious thing to die! my soul ! To those you left behind disclose the secret ? What a strange moment must it be, when near O! that some cour.cous ghost would blab it out, Thy journey's end, thou hast the gulph in view! What 'tis you are, and we must thortly be. That awful gulph no mortal e'er repass’d, I've heard, that fouls departed have sometimes To tell what's doing on the other side ! Forewarn’d men of their death : 'twas kindly done Nature runs back and shudders at the fight, To knock and give th’alarum. But what ineans Andev'ry life-string bleeds at thoughts of parting! This stinted charity? 'tis but lame kindness For part they must : body and soul must part ;

That does its work by halves. Why might you not Fond couple? link'd moré close than wedded pair. Tell us what 'tis to die? Do the strict laws This wings its way to its Almighty Source,

Of your society forbid your speaking The witness of its actions, now its Judye; Upon a point so nice? I'll ask no more ; That drops into the dark and noisome grave, Sullen, like lamps in sepulchres, your line Like a disabled pitcher of no use.

Enlightens but yourselves: well—'tis no matter : If death was nothing, and nought after death; A very little time will clear up all, If, when men died, at once they ceas'd to be, And make us learn'd as you a re, and as close. Returning to the barren womb of nothing, Death's shafts fly, thick ! Here falls the vilWhence first they sprung, then might the de lage fivain,

[round; bauchee

[drunkard And there his pamper'd lord! The cup gues C'ntrembling mouthe the heav'ns; then might the And who fo artful as to put it by? Reel over his full bow), and when 'tis drain'd, 'Tis long since Death had the majority ; Fill up another to the brim, and laugh (wretch Yet, Itrange! the living lay it not to heart. At the poor bugbear Death ;—then might the See yonder maker of the dead man's bed, That's weary of the world, and tir'd of life, The sexton, hoary.headed chronicle ! At once give each inquietude the flip,

Of hard unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole
By stealing out of being when he pleas'd, A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand
And by what way, whether by heinp or feel : Digs thro'whole rows of kindred and acquaintance
Death's thousand doors fland open. Who could By far his juniors! Scarce a scull's cast up,
fcrce

But well he knew its owner, and can tell
D

Som:

Book 1. Some passage of his life. Thus, hand in hand, Smil'd like yon knot of cowlips on the chiff, The sot has walk'd with death twice twenty years; Not to be come at by the willing hand. And yet ne'er younkeron the green laughs louder, Here are the prude severe, and gay coquette, Or clubs a smutrier tale; when drunkards meet, The fober widow, and the young green virgin, None sings a merrier catch, or lends a hand Cropp'd like a rose, before 'tis fully blown, More willing to his cup. Poor wretch! he minds Or half its worth disclos'd. Strange medley here! That fonn some trusty brother of the trade (not Here garrulous old age winds up his tale ; Shall do for him what he has done for thousands. And jovial youth, of lightsome vacant heart,

On this fide, and on that, men fce their friends whose ev'ry day was made of melody, (shrew, Drop off, like leaves in Autumn; yet launch out Hears not the voice of mirth: the thrill-tongu'd Into fantastic schemes, which the long livers Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding. In the world's hale and undegen’rate days Here are the wise, the gen'rous, and the brave; Could scarce have leisure for ; fools that we are! The juft, the good, the worthlets, the profane, Never to think of death and of ourselves The downright clown, and perfectly well-bred; At the same timel as if to learn to die

The fool, the churl, the scoundrel, and the mean, Were no concern of ours. O more than fotrich! The supple statesman, and the patriot ftern; For creatures of a day, in gamesome mood The wrecks of nations, and the spoils of time, To frolic on cternity's dread brink

With all the lumber of fix thousand years. Unapprehensive; when for aught we know Poor man! how happy once in thy first state ! The very first swoln surge shall fweep us in. When yet but warm from thy great Maker's hand, Think we, or think we not, time hurries on He stamp'd thee with his image, and well plcas'd, With a refiftless unremitting stream,

Smild on his last fair work! Then all was well:
Yet treads more soft than e'er did midnight thief, Sound was the body, and the foul ferene ;
That slides his hand under the mifer's pillow, Like two sweet instruments ne'er out of tune,
And carries off his prize. What is this world ? That play their feveral parts. Nor head, nor heart,
What but a spacious burial-field unwall’d, Ofer'd to ache; nor was there cause they should,
Strew'd with death's spoils, the spoils of animals, For all was pure within : no fell remorse,
Savage and came, and full of dead mens bones ! Nor anxious castings up of what may be,

The very turf on which we tread once liv'd; Alarm'd his peaceful bosom: Summer seas
And we that live must lend our carcafes

Shew not more smooth when kiss'd by fouthern
To cover our own offspring : in their turns Just ready to expire. Scarce importun'd, [winds,
They too must cover theirs. 'Tis here all meet! The gen'rous foil with a luxuriant hand
The thiv'ring Icelander, and fun-burni Moor; Offer'd the various produce of the year,
Men of all climes, that never met before, And ev'ry thing most perfect in its kind.
And of all creeds, the Jew, the Turk, theChriftian. Blessed, thrice blessed days! but ah, how short!
Here the proud prince, and favorite yet prouder, Bless'd as the pleafing dreams of holy men,
His fov'reign's keeper, and thc people's fcourge, But fugitive, like those, and quickly gone.
Are huddled out of fight. Here lie abalh'd O Nipp'ry state of things! What sudden curns,
The great negociators of the carth,

What strange vicissitudes, in the first leaf And celebrated masters of the balance,

Of man's fad history! to-day moft happy, Deep read in stratagems and wiles of courts : And ere to-morrow's sun has fet, molt abject! How vain their treaty-skill! Death scorns to treat. How fcant the space between these vast extremes! Here the o'erloaded slave Aings down his burthen Thus far'd it with our Sire; Not long heenjoy'd From his gallid shoulders; and when the cruel His paradise! scarce had the happy tenant tvrant,

Of the fair spot due time to prove its sweets, With all his guards and tools of pow'r about him, Or sum them up, when straight he muft be gone, Is meditating new unheard-of hardfhips, Ne'er to return again. And muft he go? Mocks his shortarm, and quick as thought escapes, Can nought compound for the first dire offence Where tyrants vex not, and the weary reft. Of erring man? Like one that is condemn'd, Here the warm lover, leaving the cool thadc, Fain would he trifle time with idle talk, The tell-tale echo, and the bubbling stream, And parley with his fate. But 'tis in vain. Time out of mind the fav’rite seats of love, Not all the lavish odours of the place, Fast by his gentle inistress lays him down Offer'd in incense, can procure his pardon, Unblasted by fuul tongue. Here friends and foes Or mitigate his doom. A mighty angel Lie closc, unmindful of their former feuds. With fiaming sword forbids his longer stay, The lawn rob'd prelate and plain presbyter, And drives the loit'rer forth; nor must he take Erc while that food aloof, as shy to meet, One last and farewell round. At once he lost Familiar mingle here, like fifter-streams His glory and his God. If mortal now, That some rudc interposing rock had split. And forely maim'd, no wonder ! Man has finn'd. Here is the large-limb'd peasant; here the child Sick of his bliss, and bent on new adventures, Of a span long, that never saw the fun,

Evil he would needs try : nor try'd in vain. Nor press'd the nipple, ftrangled in life's porch; Dreadful cxperiment ! destructive meafure ! Here is the mother with her fons and daughters; Where the work thing could happen, is fuccess. The barren wife; the long-demurring maid, Alas ! too well he fped : the good he fcorn'd Whole lonely unappropriated sweets

Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-us'd ghoft,

Not

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