Soothest of heavenly powers! with opiate touch Even Love, beneath thy placid reign, [bestows: In sweet delirium sinks to rest, Calms the wild tumult of his breast, [chain. Say, Sleep, whence o'er the mind With gildings soft the scene relieve, And heighten into bliss Life's dull realities. By necromantic groves that glance Their umbrage dusk to the Phoebean beam, The twinkling boughs to rosy zephyrs dance; By darksome rocks that lour O'er the wild brook that bubbles by, O, often meet my ear In echoes soft and clear, Of fairy harps unseen and solemn minstrelsy; And o'er my soul thy mystic visions pour, By happiest presage of better days, Or steep'd in Envy's venom'd gall: Then, Sleep, thy healing influence bring, Soft slumbers waft on downy wing, And breathe the balm divine of visionary rest. Thus, Sleep, oft let me lie Beneath thy grateful shadowings: Call around Shifting swift from grave to gay, And midst thy moonlight scenes delighted walk, And with congenial warmth our bosoms burn Thus, Sleep, oft find me, at thy soft return, And to my sight in colours faint Those future scenes of Beauty paint Which oft, with foretaste kind, await A weak but rapturous glance of Immortality! REV. J. WHITEHOUSE. MADNESS. SWELL the clarion, sweep the string, Let wood and dale, let rock and valley ring: 'Tis Madness' self inspires. Hail, awful Madness, hail! Thy realm extends, thy powers prevail, Far as the voyager spreads his venturous sail. Nor best nor wisest are exempt from thee; Folly-Folly's only free. Hark! to the astonish'd ear The gale conveys a strange tumultuous sound. They now approach, they now appear,Frenzy leads her chorus near, And demons dance around. Pride-Ambition idly vain, Revenge and Malice swell her train,— And injured Merit with a downcast eye Loud the shouts of Madness rise, Mirth unmeaning-causeless moans, Rough as the wintry wave that roars Wild raving to the' unfeeling air, The fetter'd Maniac foams along (Rage the burden of his jarring song), [hair. In rage he grinds his teeth, and rends his streaming No pleasing memory left-forgotten quite All former scenes of dear delight; Connubial love-parental joy— No sympathies like these his soul employ,But all is dark within, all furious black despair. Not so the lovelorn Maid, By too much tenderness betray'd; Her gentle breast no angry passion fires, She yet retains her wonted flame, Incessant sighs, Dim haggard looks, and clouded o'er with care, Now, sadly gay, of sorrows past she sings, 'Tis he-the Momus of the flighty train- And plots his frolics quaint and unsuspected wiles. Laughter was there-but mark that groan, 'Give the knife, demons, or the poison'd bowl, Who's this wretch, with horror wild?- Sunk in the emphasis of grief, Nor can he feel, nor dares he ask relief.— To warm and cheer the human mind, To point where sits, in love array'd, The God, the Father of us all! First shown by thee, thus glow'd the gracious Till Superstition, fiend of woe, Bade doubts to rise, and tears to flow, [scene, And spread deep shades our view and Heaven between. Drawn by her pencil the Creator stands (His beams of mercy thrown aside), With thunder arming his uplifted hands, |