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I felt for thee, dear youth; my joy, my care,
My prayers themselves were thine, and only where
Thou waft concern'd, my virtue was fincere.
Whene'er I begg'd for bleffings on thy head,
Nothing was cold, or formal, that I faid;
My warmest vows to heaven were made for thee,
And love ftill mingled with my piety.
O thou waft all my glory, all my pride!
Thro' life's uncertain paths, my conftant guide:
Regardless of the world, to gain thy praise,
Was all that could my just ambition raise.
Why has my heart this fond engagement known?
Or why has heaven diffolv'd the tie fo foon?
Why was the charming youth fo form'd to move?
Or why was all my foul fo turn'd for love?
But virtue here a vain defence had made,
Where so much worth and eloquence could plead.
For he could talk---'twas ecstacy to hear,
'Twas joy, 'twas harmony to every ear!
Eternal mufic dwelt upon his tongue,
Soft and transporting as the mufe's fong:
Lift'ning to him, my cares were charm'd to reft,
And love, and filent rapture fill'd my breast;
Unheeded the gay moments took their flight,
And time was only measur'd by delight,
I hear the lov'd, the melting accents still,
And still the kind, the tender transport' feel:
Again I see the sprightly paffions rife,
And life and pleasure sparkle in his eyes.
My fancy paints him now with every grace,
But, ah! the dear delufion mocks my fond embrace:
The fmiling vifion takes its hafty flight,
And scenes of horror fwim before my fight,
Grief and despair in all their terrors rife,
A dying lover pale and gasping lies;
Each difmal circumstance appears in view,
The fatal object is for ever new:
His anguish, with the quickest sense I feel,
And hear this fad, this moving language still.
My deareft wife! my laft, my fondest care!
Sure Heaven for thee will hear a dying prayer:
Be thou the charge of facred providence,
When I am gone, be that thy kind defence;
Ten thousand smiling bleffings crown thy head,
When I am cold, and number'd with the dead.
Think on thy vows, be to my mem'ry juft,
My future fame and honor are thy trust.
From all engagements here I now am free,
But that which keeps my ling'ring foul with thee.
How much I love, thy bleeding heart can tell,
Which does, like mine, the pangs of parting feel:
But hafte to meet me on thofe happy plains,
Where mighty love in endless triumph reigns.
He ceas'd; then gently yielded up his breath,
And fell a blooming facrifice to death:
But, oh! what words, what numbers can express,
What thought conceive the height of my distress!
Why did they tear me from thy breathless clay?
I fhould have ftaid, and wept my life away.
Yet, gentle fhade, whether thou now doft rove,
Thro' fome bleft vale, or ever-verdant grove;
One moment liften to my grief, and take
The fofteft vows that conftant love can make.
For thee all thoughts of pleasure I forego,
For thee my tears shall never cease to flow;
For thee at once I from the world retire,
To feed, in filent fhades, a hopeless fire.
My bofom all thy image fhall retain,
The full impreffion there shall still remain.
As thou haft taught my conftant heart to prove
The nobleft height and elegance of love;
That facred paffion I to thee confine,
My spotless faith shall be for ever thine.
EPIGRAM ON CANT. I. III.
66 THY NAME IS AS OINTMENT POURED FORTH."
BALMY name! O source of lasting joy! Dwell on these lips and every thought employ; Dwell on these lips!---no; onward ftill purfue, My SOUL, MY BODY, my WHOLE SELF renew. Saviour divine! I fomething feel within, A heart of stone !---a heart made up of fin! A rebel heart, devoid of blufhing fhame, Which nought can soften but thy balmy name; O let that name, like precious ointment prove, Flow round my heart and melt it into love,
IS done! the darling idol I refign,
Unfit to fhare a heart fo juftly thine;
Nor can the heavenly call unwelcome be,
That ftill invites my foul more near to thee;
Thou doft but take the dying lamps away,
To bless me with thy own unmingled day.
Ye fhades, ye phantoms, and ye dreams, adieu!
With smiles I now your parting glories view.
I fee the hand, I worship, I adore,
And justify the great disposing power.
Divine advantage! O immortal gain !
Why fhould my fond, ungrateful heart complain?
Whate'er of beauty in his ample round
The fun furveys, in thee is brighter found;
Whate'er the skies, in all their fplendid coft,
Their beamy pride, and majesty can boast ;
Whate'er the reftlefs mind of man defires;
Whate'er an angel's vafter thought admires;
In thee 'tis found in its unchanging height,
Thou first great spring of beauty and delight!
What have I loft of excellent, or fair,
Of kind, or good, that thou canst not repair?
What have I loft of truth or amity,
But what deriv'd its gentle fource from thee?
What is there here of excellence or grace,
Which one bright smile from thee would not efface?
At one kind look, one fparkling glance of thine,
Created pride must languish and decline.
'Tis done, at laft, the great deciding part!
The world's fubdu'd, and thou haft all my heart;
It pants for joys which that can ne'er bestow,
And spreads itself too wide for all below;
It leaves the vast creation far behind,
And preffes forward free and unconfin❜d:
I fee a boundless profpect ftill before,
And dote upon my former joys no more;
Celestial paffions kindle in my foul,
And every low, inglorious thought controul.
O come! ye facred gufts, ye pure delights,
Ye heavenly founds, ye intellectual fights;
Ye gales of paradife that lull to reft,
And fill with filent calms the peaceful breast;
With you, transporting hopes, that boldly rife,
And fwell, in blissful torrents, to the fkies;
That foar with angels on their splendid wings,
And search th' arcana of celestial things.
Here let me dwell, and bid the world adieu,
And still converfe, ye glorious fcenes, with you.
Keep far away, for ever far from hence,
Ye gaudy fhews, and flatt'ring fnares of sense:
Ye gay varieties on earth, adieu !
However foft, and pleafing to the view:
And all ye dazzling wonders of the skies,
Ev'n you my now aspiring thoughts despise;