網頁圖片
PDF
ePub 版

At thy felt prefence all emotions cease,

And my hufh'd spirit finds a fudden peace;
Till every worldly thought within me dies,
And earth's gay pageants vanifh from my eyes;
Till all my fenfe is loft in infinite,

And one vaft object fills my aching fight.

But foon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My foul fubmits to wear her wonted yoke;
With fhackled pinions strives to foar in vain,
And mingles with the drofs of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as juft,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is duft.
His fpirit, ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclin'd;
Marks the young dawn of ev'ry virtuous aim,
And fans the fmoking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the fofteft cry,

His
grace defcends to meet the lifted eye;
He reads the language of a filent tear,
And fighs are incenfe from a heart fincere.
Such are the vows, the facrifice I give;
Accept the vow, and bid the fuppliant live;
From each terreftrial bondage fet me free;
Still every wifh that centres not in thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain difquiets ceafe,
And point my path to everlasting peace.

If the foft hand of winning pleasure leads
By living waters, and through flowery meads,
When all is (miling, tranquil, and ferene,
And vernal beauty paints the flatt'ring scene,
O teach me to elude each latent fnare,
And whisper to my fliding heart-Beware!"
With caution let me hear the Syren's voice,
And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice.
If friendless, in a vale of tears I tray,
Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way,
Still let my fteady foul thy goodness fee,
And with trong confidence lay hold on thee;
With equal eye my various lot receive,
Refign'd to die, or refolute to live;
Prepar'd to kifs the fceptre or the rod,
While God is feen in all, and all in God.
I read his awful name emblazon'd high
With golden letters on th' illumin'd fky;

Nor lefs the mystic characters I fee,

Wrought in each flow'r, infcrib'd on ev'ry tree :
In every leaf that trembles to the breeze,

I hear the voice of God among the trees.
With thee in fhady folitudes I walk,
With thee in bufy crowded cities talk;
In every creature own thy forming pow'r;
In each event thy providence adore :
Thy hopes fhall animate my drooping foul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control.
Thus fhall I reft unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms,
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myfelf omnipotent in thee.

Then when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my fwimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
1 ftand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this tranfitory scene,
With decent triumph, and a look ferene ;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.

SECTION VI.

A monody on the death of lady Lyttleton.

Ar length, escap'd from ev'ry human eye,
From ev'ry duty, ev'ry care,

BARBA ULD.

That in my mournful thoughts might claim a fhare,
Or force my tears their flowing ftream to dry;
Beneath the gloom of this embow'ring fhade,
This lone retreat for tender forrow made,
I now may give my burden'd heart relief,
And pour forth all my ftores of grief;
Of grief furpaffing ev'ry other wo,
Far as the pureft blifs, the happiest love
Can on th' ennobled mind bestow,
Exceeds the vulgar joys that move
Our grofs defires, inelegant and low.
Ye tufted groves, ye gently falling rills,
Ye high o'erfhadowing hills,

Ye lawns, gay-fmiling with perpetual green,
Oft have you my Lucy feen!

But never fhall you now behold her more:
Nor will the now with fund delight,

And talte refin'd, your rural charms explore.
Clof'd are thofe beauteous eyes in endless night,
Those beauteous eyes, where beaming us'd to shine
Reafon's pure light, and virtue's fpark divine.
In vain I look around,

O'er all the well-known ground,

My Lucy's wonted footfteps to defcry;
Where oft we us'd to walk;
Where, oft in tender talk,

We faw the fummer fun go down the sky;
Nor by yon fountain's fide;
Nor where its waters glide
Along the valley, can fhe now be found;
In all the wide-ftretch'd profpect's ample bound,
No more my mournful eye

Can aught of her efpy,

But the fad facred earth where her dear relics lie.
O fhades of Hagley, where is now your boast?
Your bright inhabitant is loft.

You the preferr'd to all the gay reforts,
Where female vanity might wish to fhine,
The pomp of cities, and the pride of courts.
Her modeft beauties fhunn'd the public eye:
To your fequefter'd dales

And flower-embroider'd vales,

[ocr errors]

From an admiring world fhe chofe to fly :
With nature there retir'd, and nature's God,
The filent paths of wifdom trod,
And banish'd every paffion from her breaft
But thofe, the gentleft and the best,
Whofe holy flames, with energy divine,
The virtuous heart enliven and improve,
The conjugal and the maternal love.

Sweet babes! who, like the little playful fawas,
Were wont to trip along these verdant lawns,
By your delighted mother's fide,

Who now your infant fteps fhall guide?

Ah! where is now the hand, whofe tender care
To every virtue would have form'd your youth,
And ftrew'd with flowers the thorny ways of truth?
Olofs beyond repair!

O wretched father! left alone,

To weep their dire misfortune, and thy own!
How fhall thy weaken'd mind, opprefs'd with wo,
And drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave,
Perform the duties that you doubly owe,
Now fhe, alas ! is gone,

From folly and from vice their helpless age to fave?
O! how each beauty of her mind and face
Was brighten'd by fome fweet peculiar grace!
How eloquent in every look,

Thro' her expreffive eyes, her foul diftinctly spoke!
How did her manners, by the world refin'd,
Leave all the taint of modifh vice behind,
And make each charm of polifh'd courts agree
With candid truth's fimplicity,

And uncorrupted innocence !

To great, to more than manly fenfe,
She join'd the foftening influence

Of more than female tenderness.

How, in the thoughtlefs days of wealth and joy, Which oft the care of others' good destroy,

Her kindly-melting heart,

To every want and every wo,
To guilt itself when in diftrefs,

The balm of pity would impart,

And all relief that bounty could bestow!
E'en for the kid or lamb, that pour'd its life
Beneath the bloody knife,

Her gentle tears would fall :

Tears, from fweet virtue's fource, benevolent to all.
Not only good and kind,

But ftrong and elevated was her mind:
A fpirit that, with noble pride,
Could look fuperior down

On fortune's fmile or frown;
That could, without regret or pain,
To virtue's loweft duty facrifice

Or interest or ambition's highest prize;
That, injur'd or offended, never try'd
Its dignity by vengeance to maintain,
But by magnanimous difdain.

A wit that, temperately bright,
With inoffenfive light,

All pleafing fhone; nor ever pass'd

The decent bounds that wisdom's fober hand,
And fweet benevolence's mild command,
And bafhful modefty before it caft.
A prudence undeceiving, undeceiv'd,
That nor too little, nor too much believ'd ;
That fcorn'd unjust fufpicion's coward fear,
And, without weaknefs, knew to be fincere.
Such Lucy was, when in her fairest days,
Amidst th' acclaim of universal praise.
In life's and glory's fresheft bloom,

[ocr errors]

Death came remorseless on, and funk her to the tomb.
So, where the filent ftreams of Liris glide,
In the foft bofom of Campania's vale,
When now the wintry tempefts all are fled,
And genial fummer breathes her gentle gale,
The verdant orange lifts its beauteous head
From every branch the balmy flow'rets rife,
On every bough the golden fruits are feen;
With odours fweet it fills the fmiling fkies,
The wood-nymphs tend it, and the Idalian queen;
But in the midst of all its blooming pride,
A fudden blaft from Apenninus blows,

Cold with perpetual fnows;

The tender-blighted plant fhrinks up its leaves, and dies,
O beft of women! dearer far to me
Than when, in blooming life,

My lips first call'd thee wife;

How can my foul endure the lofs of thee?
How, in the world, to me a defert grown,
Abandon'd and alone,

Without my fweet companion, can I live?
Without thy lovely fmile,

The dear reward of ev'ry virtuous toil,

What pleasures now can pall'd ambition give?
E'en the delightful fenfe of well-earn'd praise,
Unfhar'd by thee, no more my lifelefs thoughts could raise.
For my distracted mind

What fuccour can I find?
On whom for confolation fhall I call ?
Support me, ev'ry friend;

Your kind affiftance lend,

To bear the weight of this oppreffive wo.

S

« 上一頁繼續 »