Hours of Edleness. WRITTEN FROM 1802 TO 1807. ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY,1 COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR, AND VERY DEAR HIM.2 ΤΟ HUSH'D are the winds, and still the evening gloom, Within this narrow cell reclines her clay, That clay where once such animation beam'd; Oh! could that King of Terrors pity feel, Or Heaven reverse the dread decrees of fate! Not here the mourner would his grief reveal, Not here the muse her virtues would relate. But wherefore weep? Her matchless spirit soars Beyond where splendid shines the orb of day; And weeping angels lead her to those bowers Where endless pleasures virtue's deeds repay. And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign, And, madly, godlike Providence accuse ? Ah! no, far fly from me attempts so vain ;I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse. Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear, Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face; Still they call forth my warm affection's tear, Still in my heart retain their wonted place. TO D IN thee I fondly hoped to clasp Detach'd thee from my breast for ever. True, she has forced thee from my breast, Yet in my heart thou keep'st thy seat; There, there thine image still must rest, Until that heart shall cease to beat. And when the grave restores her dead, LINES WRITTEN IN LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN BY J. J. ROUSSEAU: FOUNDED ON FACTS.' "Away, away, your flattering arts May now betray some simpler hearts: DEAR, simple girl, those flattering arts Mere phantoms of thine own creation : Then he who tells thee of thy beauty, |