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Ian's great demand : to trifle, is to live :

How heavily we drag the load of life! .nd is it then a trifle, too, to die?

Blest leisure is our curse ; like that of Cain, Thou say'st I preach, Lorenzo! 't is confest. It makes us wander; wander Earth around Vhat if, for once, I preach thee quite awake? To fly that tyrant, Thought. As Atlas groan'd Vho wants amusement in the flame of battle ? The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour. 3 it not treason to the soul immortal,

We cry for mercy to the next amusement ; Ier foes in arms, eternity the prize ?

The next amusement mortgages our fields; Vill toys amuse, when medicines cannot cure ? Slight inconvenience! Prisons hardly frown, Vhen spirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes From hateful Time if prisons set us free. "heir lustre lose, and lessen in our sight,

Yet when Death kindly tenders us relief, is lands, and cities with their glittering spires, We call him cruel ; years to moments shrink, o the poor shatter'd bark, by sudden storm Ages to years. The telescope is turn'd. Thrown off to sea, and soon to perish there? To man's false optics (from his folly false) Vill toys amuse ? No: thrones will then be toys, T'ime, in advance, behind him hides his wings, ind earth and skies seem dust upon the scale. And seems to creep, decrepit with his age; Redeem we time?

Its loss we dearly buy. Behold him, when past by ; what then is seen, Vliat pleads Lorenzo for his high-priz'd sports? But his broad pinions swifter than the winds ? le pleads time's numerous blanks ; he loudly And all mankind, in contradiction strong, pleads

Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career. "The straw-like trifles on life's common stream. Leave to thy foes these errours, and these ills; from whom those blanks and trifles, but from thee? To Nature just, their cause and cure explore. lo blank, no trifle, Nature made, or meant. Not short Heaven's bounty, boundless our expense; irtue, or purpos'd virtue, still be thine ;

No niggard, Nature; men are prodigals. This cancels thy complaint at once. This leaves We waste, not use our time; we breathe, not live. i act no trifle, and no blank in time.

Time wasted is existence, us'd is life, This greatens, fills, immortalizes all ;

And bare eristence, man, to live ordain'd, This, the blest art of turning all to gold;

Wrings, and oppresses with enormous weight. his the good heart's prerogative to raise

And why? since Time was given for use, not waste, i royal tribute from the poorest hours;

Injoin'd to fly; with tempest, tide, and stars, mmense revenue ! every moment pays,

To keep his speed, nor ever wait for man; 'f nothing more than purpose in thy power ;

Time's use was doom'd a pleasure ; waste, a pain; hy purpose firm, is equal to the deed :

That man might feel his errour, if unseen : Vho does the best his circumstance allows,

And, feeling, fly to labour for his cure ; Joes well, acts nobly; angels could no more. Not, blundering, split on idleness for ease. Tur outward act indeed admits restraint;

Life's cares are comforts; such by Heaven design'd; I is not in things o'er thought to domineer; He that has none, must make them, or be wretched. Juard well thy thought; our thoughts are heard in Cares are employments, and without employ Heaven.

The soul is on rack; the rack of rest, On all important time, through every age, To souls most adverse; action all their joy. hough much, and warm, the wise have urg'd; the Here then, the riddle, mark'd above, unfolds ;

Then time turns torment, when man turns a fool. s yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour.

We rave, we wrestle, with great Nature's plan ; · I've lost a day" the prince who nobly cried We thwart the Deity; and 't is decreed, lad been an emperor without his crown;

Who thwart his will, shall contradict their own. Of Rome? Say, rather, lord of human race : Hence our unnatural quarrels with ourselves ; le spoke, as if deputed by mankind.

Our thoughts at enmity; our bosom-broil ; to should all speak : so Reason speaks in all : We push Time from us, and we wish him back : from the soft whispers of that God in man, Lavish of lustrums, and yet fond of life; Why fly to folly, why to phrenzy fly,

Life we think long, and short ; Death seek, and Por rescue from the blessing we possess ?

shun: l'ime, the supreme! -- Time is Eternity ;

Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, Pregnant with all eternity can give;

United jar, and yet are loth to part. Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile. Oh the dark days of vanity! while here, Who murders time, he crushes in the birth

How tasteless! and how terrible, when gone! A power ethereal, only not ador’d.

Gone! they ne'er go; when past, they haunt us Ah! how unjust to Nature and himself,

still ;
Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man! The spirit walks of ev'ry day deceased;
Like children babbling nonsense in their sports, And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns.
We censure Nature for a span too short;

Nor death, nor life delight us.

If time past, That span too short, we tax as tedious too; And time possest, both pain us, what can please ? Torture invention, all expedients tire,

That which the Deity to please ordain'd, To lash the lingering moments into speed,

Time us'd. The man who consecrates his hours And whirl us (happy riddance !) from ourselves By vigorous effort, and an honest aim, Art, brainless Art ! our furious charioteer

At once he draws the sting of life and death ; (For Nature's voice unstifled would recall) He walks with Nature ; and her paths are peace. Drives headlong towards the precipice of death; Our errour's cause and cure are seen: see next Death, most our dread; death thus more dreadful Time's nature, origin, importance, speed ; made :

And thy great gain from urging his career. what a riddle of absurdity!

All-sensual man, because untouch'd, unseen, Leisure is pain; takes off our chariot-wheels; He looks on Tisno as nothing. Nothing else

man

sent

Is truly man's; 't is fortune's — Time 's a god. And her dread diary with horreur fills.
Hast thou ne'er heard of Time's omnipotence; Not the gross act alone employs her pen ;
For, or against, what wonders he can do!

She reconnoitres Fancy's airy band;
And will : to stand blank neuter he disdains. A watchful foe! the formidable spy,
Not on those terms was Time (Heaven's stranger!) Listening, o'erhears the whispers of our camp:

Our dawning purposes of heart explores, On his important embassy to man.

And steals our embryos of iniquity. Lorenzo ! no: On the long-destin'd hour,

As all-rapacious usurers conceal From everlasting ages growing ripe,

Their doomsday-book from all-consuming heirs; That memorable hour of wondrous birth,

Thus, with indulgence most severe, she treats When the Dread Sire, on emanation bent,

Us spendthrifts of inestimable time; And big with Nature, rising in his might,

Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied; Callid forth creation (for then Time was born), In leaves more durable than leaves of brass By Godhead streaming through a thousand worlds ; Writes our whole history : which Death shall read Not on those terms, from the great days of Heaven, In every pale delinquent's private ear ; From old Eternity's mysterious orb,

And Judgment publish ; publish to more world Was Time cut off, and cast beneath the skies ; Than this; and endless age in groens resound. The skies, which watch him in his new abode, Lorenzo, such that sleeper in thy breast! Measuring his motions by revolving spheres; Such is her slumber ; and her vengeance such That horologe machinery divine.

[play, For slighted counsel ; such thy future peace! Hours, days, and months, and years, his children And think'st thou still thou canst be wise the sun Like numerous wings around him, as he flies : But why on time so lavish is my song ? Or, rather, as unequal plumes, they shape

On this great theme kind Nature keeps a school, His ample pinions, swift as darted flame,

To teach her sons herself. Each night we die, To gain his goal, to reach his ancient rest,

Each morn are born anew: each day, a life! And join anew Eternity, his sire ;

And shall we kill each day? If Trifting kills; In his immutability to nest,

Sure Vice must butcher. O what heaps of slain When worlds, that count his circles now, unhing'd Cry out for vengeance on us! Time destroy'd (Fate the loud signal sounding) headlong rush Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt. To timeless night and chaos, whence they rose. Time flies, Death urges, knells call, Heaven invite

Why spur the speedy? Why with levities Hell threatens: All exerts; in effort, all; New-wing thy short, short day's too rapid fight? More than creation labours ! - labours more? Know'st thou, or what thou dost, or what is done ? And is there in creation what, amidst Man flies from Time, and Time from man ; too soon This tumult universal, wing'd dispatch, In sad divorce this double flight must end ; And ardent energy, supinely yawns? And then, where are we? where, Lorenzo! then Man sleeps ; and man alone; and man, whose fot, Thy sports ? thy pomps ? – I grant thee, in a state Fate irreversible, entire, extreme, Not unambitious; in the ruffled shroud,

Endless, hair-hung, breeze-shaken, o'er the gulf Thy Parian tomb's triumphant arch beneath. A moment trembles; drops! and man, for whom Has Death his fopperies? Then well may Life

All else is in alarm! man, the sole cause Put on her plume, and in her rainbow shine. Of this surrounding storm! and yet he sleeps Ye well-array'd! ye lilies of our land !

As the storm rock'd to rest. - Throw years away? Ye lilies male! who neither toil, nor spin,

Throw empires, and be blameless. Moments seixe, (As sister lilies might) if not so wise

Heaven's on their wing: a moment we may wish, As Solomon, more sumptuous to the sight! When worlds want wealth to buy.' Bid Day stand Ye delicate! who nothing can support,

still, Yourselves most insupportable! for whom

Bid him drive back his car, and reimport The winter rose must blow, the Sun put on The period past, re-give the given hour. A brighter beam in Leo; silky-soft

Lorenzo, more than miracles we want ; Favonius breathe still softer, or be chid ;

Lorenzo O for yesterdays to come! And other worlds send odours, sauce, and song,

Such is the language of the man awake ; And robes, and notions, fram'd in foreign looms !

His ardour such, for what oppresses thee Oye Lorenzos of our age! who deem

And is his ardour vain, Lorenzo ? No; One moment unamus'd, a misery

That more than miracle the gods indulge; Not made for feeble man! who call aloud

To-day is yesterday return'd; return'd For every bawble drivell’d o'er by sense;

Full-power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adors, For ratlles, and conceits of every cast,

And reinstate us on the rock of peace. For change of follies, and relays of joy,

Let it not share its predecessor's fate; To drag your patient through the tedious length Nor, like its elder sisters, die a fool Of a short winter's day- say, sages ! say,

Shall it evaporate in fume ? fly off Wit's oracles ! say, dreamers of gay dreams ! Fuliginous, and stain us deeper still ? How will you weather an eternal night,

Shall we be poorer for the plenty pour'd? Where such expedients fail ?

[sleep More wretched for the clemencies of Heaven? O treacherous Conscience ! while she seems to Where shall I find him? Angels! tell me where. On rose and myrtle, lull’d with syren song ;

You know him: he is near you: point him out: While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop Shall I see glories beaming from his brow? On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein,

Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers ? And give us up to licence unrecall's

Your golden wings, now hovering o'er him, shed see, from behind her secret stand, The sly informer minutes every fault,

Protection ; now, are waving in applause
To that blest son of foresight ! lord of fate !

Unmark'd ;

wat aweful independent on to-morrow !

As man's despotic will, perhaps one hour, hose work is done ; who triumphs in the past ; (O how omnipotent is time !) decrees ; hose yesterdays look backwards with a smile; Should not each warning give a strong alarm ? or, like the Parthian, wound him as they fly; Warning, far less than that of bosom torn at common, but opprobrious lot! past hours, From bosom, bleeding o'er the sacred dead! not by guilt, yet wound us by their flight, Should not each dial strike us as we pass, folly bounds our prospect by the grave,

Portentous, as the written wall, which struck, Il feeling of futurity benumb’d;

O'er midnight bowls, the proud Assyrian pale, 1 god-like passion for eternals quencht;

Ere-while high-flusht with insolence and wine ? il relish of realities expir'd;

Like that, the dial speaks; and points to thee, nounc'd all correspondence with the skies; Lorenzo! loth to break thy banquet up. ir freedom chain'd; quite wingless our desire ; “O man, thy kingdom is departing from thee;

sense dark-prison'd all that ought to soar ; And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade." one to the centre; crawling in the dust; Its silent language such: nor need'st thou call smounted every great and glorious aim; Thy Magi, to decypher what it means. nbruted every faculty divine;

Know, like the Median, fate is in thy walls: zart-bury'd in the rubbish of the world.

Dost ask, How? Whence ? Belshazzar-like, amaz'd? te world, that gulf of souls, immortal souls, Man's make encloses the sure seeds of death; uls elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire

Life feeds the murderer : Ingrate! he thrives reach the distant skies, and triumph there On her own meal, and then his nurse devours. 1 thrones, which shall not mourn their masters But here, Lorenzo, the delusion lies : chang'd :

That solar shadow, as it measures life, tough we from Earth; ethereal, they that fell. It life resembles too : life speeds away ch veneration due, O man, to man.

From point to point, though seeming to stand still. ho venerate themselves, the world despise. The cunning fugitive is swift hy stealth: r what, gay friend ! is this escutcheon'd world, Too subtle is the movement to be seen; hich hangs out Death in one eternal night; Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. night, that glooms us in the noon-tide ray, Warnings point out our danger; gnomons, time: id wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud ? As these are useless when the Sun is set ; fe's little stage is a small eminence,

So those, but when more glorious reason shines. ch-high the grave above; that home of man, Reason should judge in all; in reason's eye, here dwells the multitude : We gaze around; That sedentary shadow travels hard. e read their monuments; we sigh; and while But such our gravitation to the wrong, e sigh, we sink; and are what we deplor'd; So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, menting, or lamented, all our lot!

'Tis later with the wise than he 's aware : Is Death at distance ? No ; he has been on thee, A Wilmington goes slower than the Sun : ad giv’n sure earnest of his final blow.

And all mankind mistake their time of day; ose bours that lately smild, where are they now? E'en age itself. Fresh hopes are hourly sown Hid to thought, and ghastly! drown'd, all drown'd In furrow'd brows To gentle life's descent that great deep, which nothing disembogues ! We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. nd, dying, they bequeath'd thee small renown. We take fair days in winter, for the spring ; re rest are on the wing: how fleet their flight! And turn our blessing into bane. Since oft ready has the fatal train took fire;

Man must compute that age he cannot feel, moment, and the world's blown up to thee; He scarce believes he 's older for his years. he Sun is darkness, and the stars are dust. Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in store 'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; One disappointment sure, to crown the rest ; nd ask them, what report they bore to Heaven ; The disappointment of a promis'd hour. ad how they might have borne more welcome On this, or similar, Philander ! thou

Whose mind was moral, as the preacher's tongue; jeir answers form what men erperience call ; And strong, to wield all science, worth the name; wisdom's friend, her best ; if not, worst foe. How often we talk'd down the summer's Sun, reconcile them! Kind Experience cries,

And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream! There's nothing here, but what as nothing weighs; How often thaw'd and shorten’d winter's eve, be more our joy, the more we know it vain ; By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth, nd by success are tutor’d to despair.'

Best found, so sought; to the recluse more coy! or is it only thus, but must be so.

Thoughts disentangle passing o'er the lip; Tho knows not this, though gray, is still a child. Clean runs the thread; if not, 't is thrown away, oose then from Earth the grasp of fond desire, Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song; leigh anchor, and some happier clime explore. Song, fashionably fruitless ; such as stains

Art thou so moor'd thou canst not disengage, The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires; for give thy thoughts a ply to future scenes ? Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fane. ince by life's passing breath, blown up from Earth, Know'st thou, Lorenzo ! what a friend contains ? ight as the summer's dust, we take in air As bees mixt nectar draw from fragrant flowers, moment's giddy flight, and fall again;

So men from friendship, wisdom and delight ; oin the dull mass, increase the trodden soil, Twins ty'd by Nature; if they part, they die. Ind sleep, till Earth herself shall be no more ; Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach ? since then (as emmets, their small world o'erthrown) Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up want We, sore amaz'd, from out Earth's ruins crawl,

air, Ind rise to fate extreme of foul or fair,

And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the Sun. As man's own choice (controller of the skies !) Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied ;

news.

Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion | The wise extract Earth's most Hyblean bliss, too!

Superior wisdom, crown'd with smiling jor. Thought, in the mine, may come forth gold, or dross; But for whom blossoms this Elysian filme? When coin'd in word, we know its real worth. Abroad they find, who cherish it at home. If sterling, store it for thy future use :

Lorenzo! pardon what my love extorts, ’T will buy thee benefit; perhaps renown.

An honest love, and not afraid to frown. Thought, too, deliver’d, is the more possest; Though choice of follies fasten on the great, Teaching, we learn; and, giving, we retain None clings more obstinate than fancy, fond, The births of intellect; when dumb, forgot That sacred Friendship is their easy prey ; Speech ventilates our intellectual fire ;

Caught by the wafture of a golden lure, Speech burnishes our mental magazine;

Or fascination of a high-born smile. Brightens, for ornament; and whets, for use. Their smiles, the great, and the coquet, throw out What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie,

For others' hearts, tenacious of their own; Plung'd to the hilts in venerable tomes,

And we no less of ours, when such the bait. And rusted in ; who might have borne an edge, Ye fortune's cofferers! Ye powers of wealth! And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech; Can gold gain friendship? Impudence of hope ! If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue ! As well mere man an angel might beget. 'Tis thought's exchange, which, like th' alternate Love, and love only, is the loan for love. push

Lorenzo ! pride repress ; nor hope to hod Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum, A friend, but what has found a friend in thee And defecates the student's standing pool.

All like the purchase; few the price will pay; In contemplation is his proud resource ?

And this makes friends such miracles belor, 'T is poor, as proud, by converse unsustain'd. What if (since daring on so nice a time) Rude thought runs wild in contemplation's field; I show thee friendship delicate, as dear, Converse, the menage, breaks it to the bitt

Of tender violations apt to die? Of due restraint; and emulation's spur

Reserve will wound it; and distrus, destroy. Gives graceful energy, by rivals aw'd.

Deliberate in all things with thy friend. 'Tis converse qualifies for solitude ;

But since friends grow not thick on every beug As exercise, for salutary rest.

Nor every friend unrotten at the core; By that untutor'd, Contemplation raves ;

First, on thy friend, deliberate with thyself; And Nature's fool, by Wisdom is undone.

Pause, ponder, sift; not eager in the choice, Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines, Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix;

! And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, Judge before friendship, then confide till death What is she, but the means of happiness ??

Well, for thy friend; but nobler far for thee; That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool;

How gallant danger for Earth's highest prise ! A melancholy fool, without her bells.

A friend is worth all hazards we can run. Friendship, the means of wisdom, richly gives “ Poor is the friendless master of a world: The precious end, which makes our wisdoin wise. A world in purchase for a friend is gain. Nature, in zeal for human amity,

So sung he, (angels hear that angels sing! Denies, or damps, an undivided joy.

Angels from friendship gather half their jor) Joy is an import; joy is an exchange ;

So sung Philander, as his friend went round Joy flies monopolists : it calls for two;

In the rich ichor, in the generous blood Rich fruit! Heaven-planted! never pluckt by one. Of Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit, Needful auxiliars are our friends, to give

A brow solute, and ever-laughing eve. To social man true relish of bimself.

He drank long health, and virtue, to his friend; Full on ourselves, descending in a line,

His friend, who warm'd him more, who mere : Pleasure's bright beam is feeble in delight :

spir'd. Delight intense is taken by rebound ;

Friendship is the wine of life ; but friendship Reverberated pleasures fire the breast.

(Not such was his) is neither strong, ner pure. Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops O! for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, To visit Earth, one shrine the goddess finds, And elevating spirit, of a friend, And one alone, to make her sweet amends

For twenty summers ripening by my side, For absent Heaven - the bosom of a friend ; All feculence of falsehood long thrown down; Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,

All social virtues rising in his soul; Each other's pillow to repose divine.

As crystal clear; and smiling as they rise! Beware the counterfeit ; in passion's flame

Here nectar flows; it sparkles in our sight; Hearts melt, but melt like ice, soon harder froze. Rich to the taste, and genuine from the heart: True love strikes root in reason ; passion's foe : High-flavour'd bliss for gods! on Earth how rar: Virtue alone entenders us for life :

On Earth how lost ! - Philander is no more. I wrong her much - entenders us for ever:

Think'st thou the theme intoxieates my song? Of Friendship's fairést fruits, the fruit most fair Am I too warm? Too warm I cannot be. Is virtue kindling at a rival fire,

I lov'd him much ; but now. I love him more. And, emulously, rapid in her race.

Like birds, whose beauties languish, half-conceal'd O the soft enmity ! endearing strife!

Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes This carries friendship to her noon-tide point, Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold; And gives the rivet of eternity.

[themes, How blessings brighten as they take their flight! From Friendship, which outlives my former His flight Philander took ; his upward Higtit, Glorious survivor of old Time and Death;

If ever soul ascended. Had he dropt, From Friendship, thus, that flower of heavenly seed; (That eagle genius!) O had be let fall

TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF PORTLAND.

ne feather as he flew ; 1, then, had wrote, With unreluctant grandeur, gives, not yields That friends might flatter ; prudent foes forbear ; His soul sublime; and closes with his fate. ivals scarce damn; and Zoilus reprieve.

How our hearts burnt within us at the scene! et what I can, I must; it were profane

Whence this brave bound o'er limits fixt to man? o quench a glory lighted at the skies,

His God sustains him in his final hour ! ind cast in shadows his illustrious close.

His final hour brings glory to his God! range! the theme most affecting, most sublime, Man's glory Heaven vouchsafes to call her own. Comentous most to man, should sleep unsung! We gaze, we weep; mixt tears of grief, of joy! nd yet it sleeps, by genius unawak'd,

Amazement strikes ! devotion bursts to flame! ainim or Christian; to the blush of wit.

Christians adore ! and Infidels believe ! Can's highest triumph! man's profoundest fall! As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow, he death-bed of the just! is yet undrawn

Detains the Sun, illustrious, from its height; y mortal hand! it merits a divine :

While rising vapours, and descending shades, ngels should paint it, angels ever there :

With damps and darkness, drown the spacious vale; here, on a post of honour, and of joy.

Undampt by doubt, undarken'd by despair, Dare I presume, then? but Philander bids ; Philander, thus, augustly rears his head, nd glory tempts, and inclination calls –

At that black hour, which general horrour sheds it am I struck; as struck the soul, beneath On the low level of th' inglorious throng: irial groves' impenetrable gloom;

Sweet Peace, and heavenly Hope, and humble Joy, :, in some mighty ruin's solemn shade;

Divinely beam on his exalted soul; ; gazing by pale lamps on high-born dust, Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies,

vaults; thin courts of poor unflatter'd kings; With incommunicable lustre bright.
; at the midnight altar's hallow'd flame.
it religion to proceed? I pause
id enter, aw'd, the temple of my theme.

NIGHT THE THIRD.
it his death-bed ? No: it is his shrine :
hold him, there, just rising to a god.

NARCISSA. The chamber where the good man meets his fate, privileg'd beyond the common walk virtuous life, quite in the verge of Heaven.

Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes. 1, ye profane! If not, draw near with awe,

VIRG. ceive the blessing, and adore the chance, at threw in this Bethesda your disease ; From dreams, where thought in fancy's maze runs unrestor'd by this, despair your cure.

mad, 1, here, resistless demonstration dwells;

To reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man, death-bed 's a detector of the heart.

Once more I wake; and at the destin'd hour, Te tir'd dissimulation drops her mask,

Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, rough life's grimace, that mistress of the scene! I keep my assignation with my woe. re real, and apparent, are the same.

0! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, u see the man; you see his hold on Heaven, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul ! sound his virtue; as Philander's sound

Who think it solitude to be alone. aven waits not the last moment; owns her friends Communion sweet! communion large and high!

this side death, and points them out to men; Our reason, guardian angel, and our God! lecture, silent, but of sovereign power!

Then nearest these, when others most remote ; vice, confusion; and to virtue, peace.

And all, ere long, shall be remote, but these. Whatever farce the boastful hero plays,

How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone, tue alone has majesty in death!

A stranger ! unacknowledg'd! unapprov'd ! d greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. Now woo them; wed them; bind them to thy breast; ilander! he severely frown'd on thee.

To win thy wish, creation has no more. No warning given ! Unceremonious Fate ! Or if we wish a fourth, it is a friend sudden rush from life's meridian joy !

But friends, how mortal ! dangerous the desire ! wrench from all we love! from all we are ! Take Phæbus to yourselves, ye basking bards restless bed of pain ! a plunge opaque

Inebriate at fair Fortune's fountain-head; yond conjecture! feeble Nature's dread ! And reeling through the wilderness of joy ; ong Reason's shudder at the dark unknown! Where Sense runs savage, broke from Reason's chain! sun extinguisht! a just-opening grave ! And sings false peace, till smother'd by the pall. d oh! the last, last, — what? (can words express? My fortune is unlike; unlike my song; ought reach it?) the last — silence of a friend !" Unlike the deity my song invokes. here are those horrours, that amazement, where, I to Day's soft-ey'd sister pay my court, is hideous group of ills, which singly shock, (Endymion's rival !) and her aid implore ; mand from man ? - I thought him man till now. Now first implor'd in succour to the Muse. Through Nature's wreck, through vanquisht Thou, who didst lately borrow Cynthia's form agonies,

[gloom,) | And modestly forego thine own! O thou, ike the stars struggling through this midnight Who didst thyself, at midnight hours, inspire ! hat gleams of joy! what more than human peace ! Say, why not Cynthia patroness of song ? here, the frail mortal ? the poor abject worm? As thou her crescent, she thy character ), not in death, the mortal to be found.

Assumes; still more a goddess by the change. is conduct is a legacy for all;

Are there demurring wits, who dare dispute cher than Mammon's for his single heir. is comforters he comforts; great in ruin,

* At the Duke of Norfolk's masquerade.

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