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While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame,
Teinpers his rage: he owns her charm divine,
Fain would I fing, what transport florm'd his soul,
Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong,
LX. And how his lyre, though rude her first essays, Now skill'd to footh, to triumph, to complain, Warbling at will through each harmonious maze, Was taught to modulate the artful train, I fain would fing :--but ah ! I firive in vain.Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound. With trembling itep, to join yon weeping train,
I hafte, where gleams funeral glare around (found. And, mix'd with thrieks of woe, the knells of death re
Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears.-- (tears. 'Tis meet that I should mourn :
-ow forth afrein
my * This excellent perfon died suddenly, on the oth of February, 1773. The conclufion of the poem was written a fev days after.
HERE is something Ro
mantic in the Story of the following Poem; but the Author has his Reasons for believing that there is something likewise, Authentic. On the simple Circumstances of the ancient Narrative, from which He first borrowed his Idea, those Reasons are principally founded, and they are supported by others, with which, in a Work of this Kind, to trouble his Readers would be fuperfluous.