The pearly tear, bright quintessence of dewan A
In lily-urn with sweetest myrrh' imbue ;
With pleasure teach the azure stream to start :
MYSELF shall guard the passes of the heart.
And ye prime rulers of the female life,
Who by or vapours bland, or weary strife,
Ambrosial slumbers on each lid bestow,
And rest the soft check on the hand of snow;
Pure Tea, and wrangling Whist, oh! grant my pray'r,
And send kind visions to the sleeping fair:
Before her sight, let minstrels move again,
Or livelier dances lead the smiling train;
Unreal lords the sparkling ring display,
And rival belles quite vanquish'd steal away.
Still let the boxes ken her every grace,
And prying optics stare her in the face;
While beauty's self directs each winning air,
And sylphids thread the ringlets of her hair;
While thousand lips proclaim her matchless praise,
Fans flutter, swordknots shine, and diamonds blaze.
He said, and bade around her couch to close
The cloudy curtains of a deep repose:
Then fairest dreams arise at his command,
And roll successive by his magic wand
From Morpheus' labyrinth of languor drawn,
To the dim twilight of her veily lawn.
For on her head-dress rapturous they rest,
Or sink enamour'd on her heaving breast.
A bracelet rich the guardian sprite procur'd,
With studs adorn'd, and with a clasp secur'd,
Potent (the wond'rous work of hands divine)
The thoughts, the words, the actions, to refine,
In the most stubborn bosom to implant
A fond attention to each alien want;
Potent to guide Compassion's barbed dart,
And give to Sympathy the liberal heart :
Around her arm he bound the brilliant spell,
Her arm which could the milk-white meed excel:
For white was ev'ry gem's transparent pride,
As the swan's plumage on the silver tide ;
Or Cynthia's modest front, adorning high
The blue pavilion of the starry sky,
When negro Night but spreads a glitt'ring gloom,
And sleeks with melting gales her raven-plume.
Sleep on, proud nymph, regardless of the pain
Thy rare perfections cause full many a swain,
Who seeks to lose thee in the silent shade,
Or greet thee now with softest serenade:
"Blest syren, form'd to lure each breast from peace,
When will the witch'ry of thy beauty cease?
Bright star, design'd to wreck th' incautious crew,
When will thine eyes no more thy prey pursue?
When wilt thou learn to clear thy hauglity brow,
When hear the crowds that to thine altars bow ?"
Thus they, unconscious of their idol's state,
Just on the brink of wedlock and of fate:
For ere the blushes of the East appear,
Or blackbird warbles to young Morning's ear,
Her cruel vows are broke, her conquests o'er,
And Hymen enters at the open door.
So, when ten years their tedious lapse had told,
And chiefs who came in youth were now grown old,
When Time himself was ready to destroy,
Fell the huge tow'rs of heav'n-defended Troy.
My course pursue, while I, unerring, guide Thy wat❜ry way o'er Envy's wrecking tide; Where plies a grisly ferryman his bark, Whose sails are scandals, and surmises dark, That wing with swiftest flight the liquid plain, But plunge poor wretches in the sable main, While anxious friends in vain may strive to save, And innocence scarce struggles with the wave; For at one dash the winds of malice urge The fainting carcase with the boiling surge, And the most gallant vessel, soonest lost,
With shatter'd trophies strews Contention's coast.
Yet now we're past: the billows rage no more,
And bless'd Perfection gains the welcome shore.
O'er yonder realm the nymph Indifference reigns,
Queen of all ancient prudes, and silly swains,
She views without emotion navies sink,
And trav❜llers stand on deep Destruction's brink ; Deep learn'd in French, though seldom seen in France, She tattles of sans froid and nonchalance ;
And when her lovers die, with modest air
And flippant phrase she sighs: "The de'l may care.” Pride is her worthy minister of state;
Bold Fashion now exalts her plumed pate;
And Routs, quaint daughters of old Madam Spleen!
Are maids of honour to the well-lov'd Queen.
Philosophy here studies toys of brass ;
The art Linnean pores on braided grass,
And Poetry too rhymes with half an eye,
"Indifferent in her choice, to print or die;"
While mild Critique, with pigeon-heart essays
A panegyric on the poorest lays ;
Nor minds, with milk of human kindness full,
Whether the work is eminent or dull.
We've cross'd her kingdom now; for, lo! I see
Our wish'd-for end, the shrine of Sympathy.
Ledinia, mark what various figures stand
Obedient to the sculptor's forming hand;
Some weep, reclining o'er a wreathed urn,
Some in dumb agony expressive mourn ;
While some, in dire extravagance of woe,
Bid from the marble trickling torrents flow.
Behold yon prospect of excelling grief,
Where destitute of any kind relief
A lovely damsel, in the bloom of age,
Languid resigns her to the ocean's rage,
Till a fond youth from the tremendous steep
Despairing plunges on the flashing deep,
And while the humid sparkles gleam around,
To save her drowning, is himself, the drown'd!
Clasp'd in embrace the hapless lovers lie,
While. o'er their cold grave sobbing zephyrs sigh.
Through the red ruins of the ruthless flame,
To save his friend, along yon burning beam
How forces Edward his resistless way,
While death's dire forms th' heroic deed repay?
But, oh! where Calpe's hideous heights arise,
Where conflagration mingles with the skies,
There Sympathy erects her lofty throne,
And claims the godlike Britons for her own,
While through the ruddy war they rush to save
The fainting Spaniards from the fiery wave.
Hail, sacred passion! hail, celestial glow,
That lends the hand of mercy to a foe;
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