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Loud the shouts of Madness rise,
Various voices, various cries,
Mirth unmeaning-causeless moans,

Bursts of laughter-heartfelt groans
All seem to pierce the skies.-

Rough as the wintry wave that roars
On Thule's desert shores,
Wild raving to the unfeeling air,
The fetter'd Maniac foams along

(Rage the burden of his jarring song), Chair. 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,
But slighted vows possess, and fainting soft desires.

She yet retains her wonted flame,
All—but in reason, still the same:

Streaming eyes,

Incessant sighs,
Dim haggard looks, and clouded o'er with care,
Point out to Pity's tears the poor distracted fair.
Dead to the world-her fondest wishes cross'd,

She mourns herself thus early lost.-
Now, sadly gay, of sorrows past she sings,
Now, pensive, ruminates unutterable things:

She starts she flies—who dares so rude
On her sequester'd steps intrude !

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'Tis hethe Momus of the flighty train

Merry mischief fills his brain.
Blanket-robed, and antic-crown'd,
The mimic monarch skips around;
Big with conceit of dignity he smiles,
And plots his frolics quaint and unsuspected

Laughter was there—but mark that groan,
Drawn from the inmost soul!
Give the knife, demons, or the poison’d bowl,
To finish miseries equal to your own.'-

Who's this wretch, with horror wild ?-
-'Tis Devotion's ruin'd child :
Sunk in the emphasis of grief,
Nor can he feel, nor dares he ask relief.
Thou, fair Religion, wast design'd,
Duteous daughter of the skies,
To warm and cheer the human mind,
To make men happy, good, and wise:
To point where sits, in love array’d,
Attentive to each suppliant call,
The God of universal aid,

The God, the Father of us all!
First shown by thee, thus glow'd the gracious

Till Superstition, fiend of woe, [scene,

Bade doubts to rise, and tears to flow,
And spread deep shades our view and Heaven

Drawn by her pencil the Creator stands
(His beams of mercy thrown aside),
With thunder arming his uplifted hands,
And hurling vengeance wide:

Hope, at the frown aghast, yet lingering, flies, And, dash'd on Terror's rocks, Fate's best depen

dance lies. But ah !—too thick they crowd,—too close they

Objects of pity and affright! [throng, Spare farther the descriptive song

Nature shudders at the sight:

Protract not, curious ears, the mournful tale, But o'er the hapless group, low drop Compassion's





Μονη δ' αυτοθι ΕΛΠΙΣ εν άρρηκτοισι δομοισιν Ενδον εμιμνε---



Sun of the soul! whose cheerful ray

Darts o'er this gloom of life a smile;
Sweet Hope, yet further gild my way,

Yet light my weary steps awhile,
Till thy fair lamp dissolve in endless day.
0, come with such an eye and mien
As when by amorous shepherd seen;
While in the violet-breathing vale
He meditates his evening tale!
Nor leave behind thy fairy train,
Repose, Belief, and Fancy vain,
That, towering on her wing sublime,
Outstrips the lazy flight of Time,

Riots on distant days with thee,
And opens all futurity.

O, come! and to my pensive eye
Thy far foreseeing tube apply,
Whose kind deception steals us o'er
The gloomy waste that lies before ;
Still opening to the distant sight
The sunshine of the mountain's height;
Where scenes of fairer aspect rise,
Elysian groves and azure skies.

Nor, gentle Hope, forget to bring
The family of Youth and Spring ;
The hours that glide in sprightly round,
The mountain nymphs with wild thyme crown'd;
Delight that dwells with raptured eye
On stream or flower or field or sky:
And foremost in thy train advance
The Loves and Joys in jovial dance ;
Nor last be Expectation seen,
That wears a wreath of evergreen.

Attended thus by Belau's streams,
Oft hast thou soothed my waking dreams,
When, prone beneath an osier shade,
At large my vacant limbs were laid ;
To thee and Fancy all resign'd,
What visions wander'd o'er my mind!
Illusions dear, adieu! no more
Shall I your fairy haunts explore;
For Hope withholds her golden ray,
And Fancy's colours faint away.
To Eden's shores, to Enon's groves,
Resounding once with Delia's loves,
Adieu! that name shall sound no more
O’er Enon's groves or Eden's shore :

For Hope withholds her golden ray,
And Fancy's colours faint away.
Life's ocean slept,--the liquid gale
Gently moved the waving sail.
Fallacious Hope! with flattering eye
You smiled to see the streamers fly.
The thunder bursts, the mad wind raves :
From slumber wake the frighted waves:
You saw me, fled me thus distress’d,
And tore your anchor from my breast.

Yet come, fair fugitive, again!
I love thee still, though false and vain :
Forgive me, gentle Hope, and tell
Where, far from me, you deign to dwell.
To soothe Ambition's wild desires;
To feed the lover's eager fires;
To swell the miser's mouldy store;
To gild the dreaming chemist's ore;
Are these thy cares ? or, more humane,
To loose the war-worn captive's chain,
And bring before his languid sight
The charms of liberty and light:
The tears of drooping Grief to dry;
And hold thy glass to Sorrow's eye?

Or dost thou more delight to dwell
With Silence in the hermit's cell ?
To teach Devotion's flame to rise,
And wing her vespers to the skies;
To urge, with still returning care,
The holy violence of prayer;
In rapturous visions to display
The realms of everlasting day,
And snatch from Time the golden key,
That opens all eternity?



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