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Ignoscenda quidem, scirent fi ignoscere manes."

FROM Dreams, where thought in fancy's maze

runs mad,
To Reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man,
Once more I wake; and at the destin'd hour,
Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn,
I keep my assignation with my woe.

O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought,
Lost to the noble fallies of the foul !
Who think it folitude, to be Alone.
Communion sweet! communion large and high!
Our Reason, Guardian Angel, and our God!
Then nearest These, when Others most remote;
And All, ere long, shall be remote, but These.
How dreadful, Then, to meet them all alone,
A stranger! unacknowledg’d! unapprov'd!
Now woo thenı ; wed them; bind them to thy breast; 15
To win thy wish, creation has no more.


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Or if we wish a fourth, it is a Friend
But friends, how mortal, dangerous the desire !

Take Phæbus to yourselves, ye balking bards !
Inebriate at fair fortune's fountain-head;
And reeling through the wilderness of joy;
Where Sense runs favage, broke from Reason's chain
And sings false peace, till fimother'd by the pall.
My fortune is unlike; unlike my song;
Unlike the deity my song invokes.
I to Day's soft-ey'd fifter pay my court,
(Endymion's rival!) and her aid implore;
Now first irnplor'd in fuccour to the Muse.

Thou, who didst lately borrow * Cynthia's form, And modestly forego thine Own! 0 Thou,

3 Who didst thyself, at midnight hours, inspire ! Say, why not Cynthia patroness of fong? As thou her crescent, she thy character Assumes; ftill more a goddess by the change,

Are there demurring wits, who dare dispute 3 This revolution in the world inspird? Ye train Pierian! to the Lunar sphere, In filent hour, address your ardent call For aid immortal ; less lier brother's right. She, with the spheres harmonious, nightly leads 40 The mazy dance, and hears their inatchless strain, A strain for gods, deny'd to mortal ear. Transinit it heard, thou silver queen of heaven!' What title, or what name, endears thee moft? Cynthia ! Cyllené! Phæbe!--or dost hear


* At the duke of Norfolk’s masquerade.

With higher gust, fair Portland of the skies!
Is that the soft inchantment calls thee down,
More powerful than of old Circean charm?
Come; but from heavenly banquets with thee bring
The soul of long, and whisper in my ear

50 The theft divine; or in propitious dreams (For dreams are Thine) transfuse it through the breast Of thy first votary-But not thy last; If, like thy Namesake, thou art ever kind.

And kind thou wilt be; kind on such a theme; 55 A theme fo like thee, a quite lunar theme, Soft, modeft, melancholy, female, fair! A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul, 'Twas Night; on her fond hopes perpetual night; A night which struck. a damp, a deadlier damp, 60 Than that which smote me from Philander's tomb. Narcissa follows, ere his tomb is clos’d. Woes cluster ; rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel ; Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 65 The grief that started from my lids for Him: Seizes the faithleis, alienated tear, Or shares it, ere it falls. So frequent death, Sorrow he more than causes, he confounds ; For human fighs his rival strekes contend,

70 And make distress, distraction. Oh Philander ! What was thy fate? A double fate to me; Portent, and pain ! a menace, and a blow! Like the black raven hovering o'er my peace, Not less a bird of omen, than of prey.

75 It

It callid Narcisa long before her hour;
It callid her tender soul, by break of bliss,
From the first blossom, from the buds of joy ;
Those few our noxious fate unblasted leaves
In this inclement clime of human life,

Sweet harmonilt! and Beautiful as sweet !
And Young as beautiful! and Soft as young!
And Gay as soft! and Innocent as gay!
And Happy (if aught Happy here) as good!
For fortune fond had built her nest on high.
Like birds quite exquisite of note and plume,
Transfixt by fate (who loves a lofty mark),
How from the summit of the grove she fell,
And left it unharmonious! All its charms
Extinguisht in the wonders of her song !

9 Her song still vibrates in


Still melting there, and with voluptuous pain
(O to forget her!) thrilling through my heart!

Song, Beauty, Youth, Love, Virtue, Joy! this grou Of bright ideas, flowers of paradise,

9 As yet unforfeit! in one blaze we bind, Kneel, and present it to the skies; as All We guess of heaven: and these were all her own. And the was mine; and I waswas !--most bleft Gay title of the deepest misery! As bodies grow more ponderous, robb’d of life; Good loft weighs more in grief, than gain’d in joy. Like blossom’d trees o'erturn’d by vernal storm, Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay; And if in death still lovely, lovelier There;

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Far lovelier! pity (wells the tide of love.
And will not the severe excuse a sigh?
Scorn the proud man that is alham'd to weep;
Our tears indulg’d indeed deserve our shame.
Ye that e'er loft an angel ! pity me.

Soon as the lustre languifht in her eye,
Dawning a dimmer day on human siglit;
And on her cheek, the residence of spring,
Pale omen sat ; and scatter'd fears around
On all that saw (and who would cease to gaze,
That once had seen?) with haste, parental haste,
I flew, I snatch'd her from the rigid north,
Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew,
And bore her nearer to the fun; the sun
(As if the sun could envy) checkt his beam,
Deny'd his wonted succour; nor with more
Regret beheld her drooping, than the bells
Of lilies ; faireit lilies, not so fair!

Queen lilies ! and ye painted populace !
Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrosial lives; 125
In morn and evening dew, your beauties bathe,
And drink the lun; which gives your cheeks to glow,
And out-blush (mine excepted) every fair;
You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand,
Which often cropt your odours, incense meet 130
To thought so pure! Ye lovely fugitives!
Coeval race with man! for man you smile;
Why not smile at him too? You share indeed
His sudden pass; but not his constant pain.



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