Where Senfe runs favage, broke from Reason's Chain,
And fings falfe, Peace, till fmother'd by the Pall.
My Fortune is unlike; unlike my Song;
Unlike the Deity my Song invokes,
I to Day's foft ey'd Sifter pay my Court,
(ENDYMION'S Rival!) and her Aid implore;
Now firft implor'd in Succour to the Mufe.
Thou, who didft lately borrow * CYNTHIA's Form,
And modeftly forego thine Own! O Thou
Who didft thyfelf, at Midnight Hours, infpire!
Say, why not CYNTHIA, Patronefs of Song?
As Thou her Crefcent, fhe thy Character
Affumes; ftill more a Goddess by the Change.
Are there demurring Wits, who dare difpute
This Revolution in the World inspir'd?
Ye train Pierian! to the Lunar Sphere,
In filent Hour, address your ardent Call
For Aid immortal; lefs her Brother's Right.
She, with the Sphere harmonious, nightly leads 40
The mazy Dance, and hear their matchlefs Strain
A Strain for Gods, deny'd to mortal Ear.
Tranfmit it heard, Thou Silver Queen of Heav'n!
That Title or what Name, endears the most !
CYNTHIA! CYLLENE! PHOEBE !-or doft hear 45
With higher Guft, fair P-
of the Skies? Is that the foft Enchantment calls thee down,
More pow'rful than of Old Circean Charm;
Come; but from Heav'nly Banquets with thee bring
The Soul of Song, and whisper in mine Ear
The Theft divine; or in propitious Dreams
(For dreams are Thine) transfufe it thro' the Breast.
Of thy first Votary-
If, like thy Namefake, Thou art ever kind.
And kind thou wilt be; Kind on such a Theme; 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 ftruck a Damp, a deadlier Damp, 60
Than that which fmote 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;
* At the Duke of Norfolk's Masquerade.
Her Death invades His mournful Right, and claims
The Grief that started from my Lids for Him:
Seizes the faithlefs, alienated Tear,
Or fhare it, ere it falls. So frequent Death,
Sorrow, he more than causes, He confounds;
For human Sighs his rival Strokes contend,
And make Diftrefs, Diftraction. Oh PHILANDER!
What was thy Fate? A double Fate to me;
Portent, and Pain! a Menace, and a Blow!
Like the black Raven hov'ring o'er my Peace,
Not lefs a Bird of Omen, than of Prey.
It call'd NARCISSA long before her Hour;
It call'd her tender Soul, by Break of Blifs,
From the first Bloffom, from the Buds of Joy;
Thofe few our noxious Fate unblafted leaves
In this inclement Clime of human Life.
Sweet Harmonift! and Beautiful as fweet!
And Young as beautiful! and Soft as young!
And Gay as foft! and Innocent as gay!
And Happy (if aught Happy here) as good!
For Fortune fond had built her Neft on high.
Like Birds quite exquifite of Note and Plume,
Transfix'd by Fate (who loves a lofty Mark)
How from the Summit of the Grove the fell,
And left it unharmonious All its Charm
Extinguish'd in the Wonders of her Song!
Her Song ftill vibrates in my ravish'd Ear,
Still melting there, and with voluptuous Pain
(O to forget her!) thrilling thro' my Heart!
Song, Beauty, Youth, Love, Virtue, Joy! this Group Of bright Ideas, Flow'rs of Paradise,
yet unforfeit! in one Blaze we bind,
Kneel, and prefent it to the Skies; as All
We guefs of Heav'n: And these were all her own.
And he was mine; and I was-was moft bleft-
Gay Title of the deepest Mifery!
As Bodies grow more pond'rous robb'd of Life;
Good lost weighs more in Grief, than gain'd in Joy.
Like bloffom'd Trees o'erturn'd by vernal Storm,
Lovely in Death the beauteous Ruin lay;
And if in Death ftill lovely, lovelier There :
Far lovelier! Pity fwells the Tide of Love..
And will not the Severe excufe a Sigh?
Scorn the proud Man that is afham'd to weep:
Our Tears indulg'd indeed deserve our Shame.
Ye that e'er loft an Angel! pity me.
Soon as the Luftre languish'd in her Eye,
Dawning a dimmer Day on human Sight;
And on her Cheek, the Refidence of Spring,
Pale Omen fat: and scatter'd Fears around
On all that faw (and who would cease to gaze,
That once had feen ?) with Hafte, parental Haste,
I flew, I fnatch'd her from the rigid North,
Her native Bed, on which bleak Boreas blew,
And bore her nearer to the Sun; the Sun
(As if the Sun could envy) check'd his Beam,
Deny'd his wonted Succour, or with more
Regret beheld her drooping, than the Bells
Of Lilies! Faireft Lilies not fo fair.
Queen Lilies! and ye painted populace!
Who dwell in Fields, and lead ambrofial Lives; 125
In Morn and Ev'ning Dew, your Beauties bathe,
And drink the Sun; which gives your Cheeks to glow
And out-blush (mine excepted) ev'ry Fair;
You gladlier grew, ambitious of her Hand,
Which often crop'd your Odours, Incense meet
To Thought fo pure. Ye lovely Fugitives!
Coëva! Race with Man! for Man you fmile;
Why not smile at him too? You share indeed
His fudden Pass; but not his conftant Pain.
So Man is made, nought ministers Delight,
But what his glowing Paffions can engage;
And glowing Paffions bent on aught Below,
Muft, foon or late, with Anguifh turn the Scale;
And Anguish, after Rapture, how severe !
Rapture? Bold Man! who tempts the Wrath divine, By plucking Fruit deny'd to mortal Tafte,
Whilft Here, prefuming on the Rights of Heav'n
For Tranfport doft Thou call on ev'ry Hour,
LORENZO? At thy Friend's Expence be wife;
Lean not on Earth; 'twill pierce thee to the Heart;
A broken Reed, at beft; but, oft, a Spear;
On its sharp Point Peace bleeds, and Hope expires.
Turn, hopeless Thought! turn from Her: Thought
Refenting rallies, and wakes ev'ry Woe. [repell'd
Snatch'd ere thy Prime! and in thy bridal Hour? 150
And when kind Fortune, with thy Lover, fmil'd!
And when high-flavour'd thy fresh op'ning Joys?
And when blind Man pronounc'd thy Blifs complete!
And on a Foreign Shore; were Strangers wept!
Strangers to Thee; and, more furprising still,
Strangers to Kindness, wept: Their Eyes let fall
Inhuman Tears; strange Tears; that trickled down
From marble Hearts! obdurate Tenderness!
A Tenderness that call'd them more fevere ;
In Spite of Nature's foft Perfuafion, steel'd;
While Nature melted, Superftition rav'd ;
That mourn'd the Dead; and this deny'd a Grave.
Their Sighs incenft; Sighs foreign to the Will!
Their Will the Tyger fuck'd, outrag'd the Storm.
For Oh! the curft ungodlinefs of Zeal!
While finful Fleh relented, Spirit nurft
In blind Infallibility's Embrace,
The Sainted Spirit petrify'd the Breast;
Deny'd the Charity of Duft, to spread
O'er Duft! a Charity their Dogs enjoy.
What could I do? What Succour? What Resource?
With pious Sacrilege a Grave I ftole;
With impious Piety that Grave I wrong'd;
Short in my Duty; Coward in
More like her Murderer, than Friend, I crept,
With foft-fufpended Step; and, muffled deep
In Midnight Darkness, whisper'd my Laft Sigh.
I whisper'd what should echo thro' their Realms:
Nor writ her Name, whofe Tomb fhould pierce the
Skies.
Prefumptuous Fear! how durft I dread her Foes, 180
While Nature's loudest Dictates I obey'd?
Pardon Neceffity, Bleft Shade! Of Grief
And Indignation rival Burfts I pour'd;
Half-execration mingled with my Fray'r;
Kindled at Man, while I his God ador❜d;
Sore grudg'd the Savage Land her Sacred Duft;
Stamp'd the curft Soil; and with Humanity
(Deny'd NARCISSA) wish'd them all a Grave.
Glows my refentment into Guilt? What Guilt
Can equal Violations of the Dead ?
The Dead how Sacred! Sacred is the duft
Of this Heav'n-labour'd Form, erect, divine !
This Heav'n-affum'd majestic Robe of Earth,
He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast Expanfe
With Azure bright, and cloath'd the Sun in Gold.
When ev'ry Paffion fleeps that can offend
When strikes us ev'ry Motive that can melt;
When Man can wreak his Rancour uncontroul'd,
That strongest Curb on Infult and ill-will;
Then, fpleen to Duft? the Duft of Innocence ?
An Angel's Duft!This Lucifer tranfcends;
When he contended for the Patriarch's Bones,
'Twas not the Strife of Malice, but of Pride;
The Strife of Pontiff Pride, not Pontiff Gall.
Far lefs than This is fhocking in a Race
Moft wretched, but from Streams of mutual Love;
And uncreated, but for Love Divine,
And, but for Love Divine, this Moment, loft,
By Fate reforb'd, and sunk in endless Night.
Man hard of Heart to Man! Of horrid Things
Moft horrid 'Mid ftupendous, highly ftrange!
Yet oft his Courtefies are smoother Wrongs;
Pride brandishes the Favours He confers,
And contumelious his Humanity:
What then his Vengeance? Hear it not, ye Stars!
And thou, pale Moon! turn paler at the Sonnd;
Man is to Man the foreft, fureft Ill.
A previous Blaft foretels the rifing Storm;
O'erwhelming Turrets threaten ere they fall;
Volcano's bellow ere they difembogue;
Earth trembles ere her yawning Jaws devour;
And Smoke betrays the wide-confuming Fire:
Ruin from man is moft conceal'd when near,
And fends the dreadful Tidings in the Blow.
Is this the Flight of Fancy? Would it were!
Heav'n's Sov'reign faves all Beings but Himself,
That hideous Sight, a naked human Heart.
Fir'd is the Mufe? And let the Mufe be fir'd: Who not inflam'd, when what He fpeaks, He feels, And in the Nerve moft tender, in his Friends? Shame to Mankind! PHILANDER had his Foes; He felt the Truths I fing, and I in Him. But He, nor I, feel more: Paft Ills, NARCISSA Are funk in Thee, Thou recent Wound of Heart! Which bleeds with other Cares, with other Pangs; 235
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