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Hark! yon deep echo ftrikes the trembling ear !
See night's dim curtain wraps the darksome pole!
O'er heav'n's blue arch yon rolling worlds appear,
And rouse to folemn thought th' afpiring foul.
O lead my steps beneath the moon's dim ray,
Where Tadmor stands all-defert and alone!
While from her time-shook tow'rs the bird of prey
Sounds through the night her long-resounding moana
Or bear me far to yon dark dismal plain,
Where fell-ey'd tygers, all athirst for blood,
Howl to the desert; while the horrid train
Roams o'er the wild where once great Babel stood :
That queen of nations! whose superior call
Rou'd the broad East, and bid her arms destroy !
When warm’d to mirth, let judgment mark her fall,
And deep reflection dath the lip of joy.
Sbort is Ambition's gay deceitful dream;
Though wreaths of blooming laurel bind her brow;
Calm Thought dispels the visionary scheme,
And Time's cold breath diffolves the withering bough.
Slow as some miner faps th' aspiring tower,
When working secret with destructive aim ;
Unseen, unheard, thus inoves the fealing hour,
But works the fall of empire, pomp, and name.
Then let thy pencil mark the traits of man;
Full in the draught be keen-ey'd Hope pourtray'd :
Let futtering cupids crowd the growing plan :
Then give one touch, and dash it deep with thade.
Beneath the plume that fames with glancing rays
Be Care's deep engines on the soul impress’d;

Beneath the helmet's keen refulgent blaze
Let Grief fit pining in the cankerd breast.
Let Love's gay fons, a smiling train, appear,
With beauty pierc'd, yet heedless of the dart;
While, closely couch'd, pale fick’ning Envy near,
Whets her fell ting, and points it at the heart.
Perch'd like a raven on some blasted yew,
Let Guilt revolve the thought-distracting fin ;
Scar'd- while her eyes survey th' ethereal blue,
Let Heaven's strong lightning burst th’ dark within.
Then paint, impending o'er th' madd’ning deep,
That rock, where heart-siruck Sappho, vainly brase,
Stood firm of soul-then from the dizzy steep
Impetuous sprung, and dath'd the boiling wave.
Here wrapt in studious thought let Fancy rove,
Sti prompt to mark Suspicion's secret snare;
To see where Anguilh nips the bloom of Love,
Or trace proud Grandeur to the domes of Care,
Should e'er Ambition's tow'ring hopes inflame,
Let judging Reason draw the veil afide;
Or fir'd with envy at some mighty name,
Read o'er the monument that tells--He dy'd.
What are the enligns of imperial sway?
What all that fortune's lib'ral hand has brought?
Teach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay?
Or rouse the soul to more exalted thought?
When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms unknown,
When melts the eye o'er Virtue's mournful bier ;
Not Wealth, but Pity, swells the bursting groan ;
Not Pow's, but whisp’ring Nature, prompts the tear.
Say, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault,
Where the worm fattens on some scepter'd brow,
Beneath that roof with sculptur'd marble fraught,
Why Neeps unmov'd the breathless dust below ?
Sleeps it more sweetly than the simple swain,
Beneath some moffy turf that rests his head;
Where the lone widow tells the night her pain,
And eve with dewy tears embalms the dead?
The lily, screen'd from ev'ry ruder gale,
Courts not the cultur'd spot where roles spring :
But blows neglected in the peaceful vale,
And scents the zephyr's balmy breathing wing.
The busts of grandeur, and the pomp

of pow'r,
Can these bid Sorrow's gothing tears fubfide ?
Can these avail in that tremendous hour,
When Death's cold hand congeals the purple tide ?
Ah no! the mighty names are heard no more :
Pride's thought sublime, and Beauty's kindling bloom,
Serve but to sport one flying moment o'er,
And swell with pompous verse the efcutchion's tomb.

-may passion ne'er my soul javade, Nor be the whims of tow’ring phrenzy giv'n ; Let wealth ne'er court me from the peaceful Thade, Where Contemplation wings the foul to heav'n! Oh, guard me safe from Joy's enticing snare ! With each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide, The poison’d breath of flow consuming Care, The noise of Folly, and the dreams of Pride. Bat oft, when Midnight's sadly folemn knell Sounds long and distant from the sky-topt tow'r,

For me

Calm let me fit in Prosper's lonely cell*,
Or walk with Milton through the dark obscure.
Thus when the transient dream of life is filed,
May some fad friend recal the former years;
Then, stretch'd in silence o'er my dusty bed,
Pour the warm gul of sympathetic tears !

* See Shakespeare's Tempest.


TO EVENING. MEEK Pow'r, whose balmy-pinion'd gale Steals o’er the flow'r-enamellid dale ! Whofe voice in gentle whispers near Oft sighs to Quiet's list’oing ear; As on her downy couch at rest, By Thought's inspiring visions blest, She fits, with white-rob'd Silence nigh, And musing heaves her serious eye, To mark the now sun's glimm'ring ray, To catch the last pale gleam of day; Or funk in sweet repose, unknown, Lies on the wild hill's van alone; And sees thy gradual pencil flow, Along the heaven-illumin'd bow.

Come, Nymph demure, with mantle blue, Thy tresses bath'd in balmy dew, With fep smooth-Niding o'er the green, The graces breathing in thy mien; And thy vesture's gather'd fold Girt with a zone of circling gold ;

And bring the harp, whose solemn string
Dies to the wild wind's murmuring wing ;
And the nymph whose eye serene
Marks the calm breathing woodland scene;
Thought, mountain sage! who loves to climb,
And haunts the dark rock's summit dim;
Let Fancy, falcon-wing'd, be near :
And through the cloud-envelop'd sphere,
Where musing roams Retirement hoar,
Lull’d by the torrent's distant roar,
Oh, bid with trembling light to glow
The raven-plume that crowns his brow.

Lo! where thy meek-ey'd train attend !
Queen of the folemn thought descend !
Oh, hide me in romantic bow'rs!
Or lead my step to ruin'd tow'rs !
Where gleaming through the chinky door
The pale ray gilds the moulder'd floor :
While beneath the hallow'd pile,
Deep in the desert fhrieking ile,
Rapt Contemplation ftalks along,
And bears the now clock's pealing tongue ;
Or, mid the dun discolourd gloom,
Sits on some hero's peaceful tomh,
Throws life's gay glittring robe aside,
And tramples on the neck of Pride,

Oft Shelter'd by the rambling sprays,
Lead o'er the foref's winding maze ;
Where, through the mantling boughs, asar,
Glimmers the filver-streaming star ;
And, show'r’d from ev'ry rustling blade,
The loose light floats along the ḥade :

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