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This pleasing error, did it ever lull

Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refus d
The silken fetters of delicious ease?

Or when divine Euphrosyne appear'd
Within this dwelling, did not thy desires
Hang far below that measure of thy fate,
Which I reveal'd before thee? and thy eyes,
Impatient of my counsels, turn away
To drink the soft effusion of her smiles?
Know then, for this the everlasting sire
Deprives thee of her présence, and instead,
O wise and still benevolent! ordains
This horrid visage hither to pursue

My steps; that so thy nature may discern
Its real good, and what alone can save
Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill

From folly and despair. O yer belov'd!

Let not this headlong terror quite o`erwhelm

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Thy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rage
Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault,
While I am here to vindicate thy toil,
Above the generous question of thy arm.
Brave by thy fears, and in thy weakness strong,
This hour he triumphs; but confront his might,
And dare him to the combat; then with ease,
Disarm d and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns
To bondage and to scorn; while thus inur'd
By watchful danger, by unceasing toil,
The immortal mind, superior to his fate,
Amid the outrage of external things,

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Firm as the solid base of this great world,

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Rests on his own foundations. Blow ye winds!

Ye waves! ye thunders! roll your tempests on ;
Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky,

Till all its orbs, and all its worlds of fire

Be loosened from their seats; yet still serene,

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The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck ;

And, ever stronger as the storms advance,

Firm through the closing ruin holds his way,

Where nature calls him to the destin'd goal.

So spake the goddess, while through all her frame

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Celestial raptures flow'd, in every word,

In every motion kindling warmth divine

To seize who listened. Vehement and swift,
As lightning fires the aromatic shade

In Ethiopean fields, the stripling felt
Her inspiration catch his fervid soul,
And starting from his langour thus exclaim'd.

Then let the trial come !, and witness thou,
If terror be upon me; if I shrink

To meet the storm, or falter in my strength,
When hardest it besets me. Do not think
That I am fearful and infirm of soul,

As late thy eyes beheld; for thou hast chang'd
My nature thy commanding voice has wak'd
My languid powers to bear the boldly on,
Where'er the will divine my path ordains
Through toil or peril; only do not thou
Forsake me; O be thou forever near,
That I may listen to thy sacred voice,

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And guide by thy decrees my constant feet.

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But say, for ever are my eyes bereft ?

Say, shall the fair Euphrosyne not once

Appear again to charm me! Thou, in heaven!

O thou eternal arbiter of things!

Be thy great bidding done; for who am I

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To question thy appointment? Let the frowns
Of this avenger every morn o'ercast

The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp,
With double night, my dwelling; I will learn
To hail them both, and unrepining bear
His hateful presence; but permit my tongue
One glad request, and, if my deeds may find
Thy awful eye propitious, O restore

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The rosy featur'd maid, again to cheer

This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles..

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He spoke when instant, through the sable glooms,

With which that furious presence had involv'd
The ambient air, a flood of radiance came
Swift as the lightning flash; the melting clouds
Flew diverse, and, amid the blue serene
Euphrosyne appeard. With sprightly step
The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn,
And to her wond'ring audience thus began.

Lo! I am here to answer to your vows,

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And be the meeting fortunate; I come

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With joyful tidings we shall part no more.

Hark! how the gentle Echo, from her cell

Talks through the cliffs, and murm'ring o'er the stream,

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Repeats the accent, we shall part no more.'
O my delightful friends, well pleas'd, on high,
The father has beheld you, while the might
Of that stern foe with bitter trial prov'd
Your equal doings; then forever spake
The high decree; that thou, celestial maid,
Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps
May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more
Shalt thou, descending to the abcde of man,
Alone endure the rancour of his arm,
Or leave thy lov'd Euphrosyne behind.

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She ended; and the whole romantic scene

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Immediate vanish'd; rocks, and woods, and rills

The mantling tent and each mysterious form
Flew like the pictures of a morning dream,
When sunshine fills the bed. A while I stood
Perplex'd and giddy, till the radiant
Who bade the visionary landscape rise,
As up to him I turn d with gentlest looks,
Preventing my enquiry, thus began.

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There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint

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How blind, how impious! There behold the ways

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Of heaven's eternal destiny to man,

For ever just, benevolent and wise;

That virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued

By vexing fortune and intrusive pain,

Should never be divided from her chaste,
Her fair attendant, pleasure. Need I urge
Thy tardy thought thro' all the various round
Of this existence, that thy soft'ning soul
At length may learn, what energy the hand
Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide

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Of passions swelling with distress and pain,
To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops
Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth,
Why the cold urn of her whom long he lov d
So often fills his arms; so often draws

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His lonely footsteps at the silent hour,

To pay the mournful tribute of his tears?

O! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds
Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego
That sacred hour when stealing from the noise
Of care and envy, sweet remembrance sooths
With virtue's kindest looks, his aching breast,
And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd

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Which flies impatient from the village walk
To climb the neighb`ring cliffs, when far below
The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast
Some hapless bark; while sacred pity melts
The general eye, terror's icy hand

Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair:
While every mother closer to her breast

Catches her child, and pointing where the waves
Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud,
As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms
For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge,
As now another dash'd against the rocks,
Drops lifeless down; O deemest thou indeed
No kind endearment here by nature given
To mutual terror and compassion's tears?
No sweetly melting softness which attracts,
O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers
To this their proper action and their end?

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Ask thy own heart: When, at the midnight hour,

Slow through that studious gloom, thy pausing eye,
Led by the glimmering taper, moves around
The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs
Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame
For Grecian heroes, where the present pow'r
Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal soul
Ev'n as a father's blessing, while he reads
The praises of his son.-If then thy page,
Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days,

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Mix in their deeds and kindle with their flame;

Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view,

When rooted from the base, heroic states

Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown

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Of curst ambition; when the pious band

Of youths, who fought for freedom and their sires,

Lie side by side in gore; when ruffian pride

Usurps the throne of justice, turns the pomp

Of public power, the majesty of rule,

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The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe,

To slavish, empty pageants, to adorn

A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes

Of such as bow the knee; when honour'd urns

Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust

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And storied arch, to glut the coward rage
Of regal envy, strew the public way

With hallowed ruins; when the muse's haunt
The marble porch where wisdom wont to talk

With Socrates or Tully, hears no more,
Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks,
Or female superstition's midnight prayer;
When ruthless rapine from the hand of time
Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow
To sweep the works of glory from their base;
Till desolation o'er the grass grown street
Expands his raven wings, and up the wall,
Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd,
Hisses the gliding snake thro' hoary weeds
That clasp the mould'ring column; thus defac'd,

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Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills
Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear
Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm
In fancy hurls the thunder bolt of Jove

To fire the impious wreath, on Philip's brow,

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"Intrude upon mine ea?" The baleful dregs

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Of these late ages, this inglorious draught

Of servitude and folly, have not yet,

Blest be the eternal ruler of the world!
Defil'd to such a depth of sordid shame
The native honors of the human soul,
Nor so effac'd the image of its sire.

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