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Cowl'd Superstition comes, her loosen'd robes
Float on the breeze and half exposed to view
The rusted dagger. By her side crept on
Mitred Hypocrisy, with meekest mien
And step demure, and cross, which to his heart
He prelt, and seem'd with heaven-ward eye to pour
The pious prayer; yet never prayer he pour'd
Save when with secret glance he view'd the crowd
Admiring near. Revenge unwilling quits
The mangled corfe; and prodigal of deaih
Next Slaughter strode; his falchion ver unheath'd
Reeks from the wound, loose flow his long black locks,
The wide roll of his eye is terrible,
And each limb quivers. Cruelty comes next,
With favage smile grasping a widowed dove.
And Fury next beating her own fwoln breast
Ruth'd at the call: and Envy hideous form
Gnawing her flesh, and tearing from her head
The viper turn’d to bite : and Horror wild
With creeping flesh. Defpair his fullen arms
Folded; aye muttering dark and half-form'd words
Of dreadful import. Aged Avarice next
Hugg'd to his heart his bags, and cast around
(Unwilling tho' to lose the golden light)
The fearful look. And fitful Jealousy
Anxious for misery came: and feverish Luft
Hot from the convent. Paisied Fear fled on,
And ever as he fled his ghaftly eye
Reverts. Then stalk'd along the giant form
Of proud Oppression, on his crowned brow
Sate Desolation, a'id his pity less frown
Dispeopled countries : him beina a train
Loathly and horrible, of nameless fiends
Outnumbering locusts. Laft, as fillid with fear
Suspicion ever-watchtui clos'd' the train :
Pale meagre fpectre, ribb’d with iron plates,
Sleepless, and fearful of the friendly meal,
Worn out with anxious vigilance of life.
These at the palace meet, there, porter fit,
Remorse for ever his fad vigils kept,
His heart the viper's feast : worn down his face,
If face it were when scarce the shrivell'd skin
Wrap'd o'er the bone, proclaim'd the gna ring pang:
Inly he groan'd, or starting wildly, friek'd,
Aye as the fabric tottering from its base
Threaten'd deftru&ion, tho' oft announc'd with-held,
Tho’ still with-held, expected.
These the maid
Mark'd as they steer'd their dulky flight alongi
And lo! He was amidst them.
Paved with the bones
The floor breath'd pestilence: the emblazon'd walls
With ensigns and with blood-stain'd arms were hung,
The trophies of Ambition.
In his throne
That form portentous rear'd his giant bulk,
More huge than he, who with his hundred arms
Scatter'd confusion o'er the host of gods
Briareus: or the monster brethren twain,
Whose stature swelling every hour gave hopes
Of equalliog highest Heaven : nor larger he
Illusive, 'gainst whose head the thunderer Thor
Sped frustrate his full force. A sable helm
Shades his brown face, where glow'd thro' each dark tint
The fire of anger; in his hand he grasp'd
The desolating spear; his broad black brow
In thought contracted spake his brooding soul,
STORY of TheLAMONT and ALMERIA.
[From the Sea, a Poem, by John BIDLAKE, B.A.]
OW thrice three bright revolving suns had view'd
Fond Thelamont to his Almeria join'd;
With rapture melting into fix'd esteem;
Equal delight, and soul-exchanging bliss,
So beam'd, so smild, so parted ev'ry year!
Bright Mone a summer's moện, when Thelamont
Upon a placid fea fet fail; intent
With baited hook to tempt the finny tribe.
Cruel delight! From native beds to drag
The wounded fools, and spoil their filv'ry scales
And spotted pride, writh'd on the tort'rous hook,
In sufferance dumb, Obe meek mercy heard !
Thrice bleft be he, who ever kindness shews
To the poor brutal race : consiga'd by him,
Who thelters all, to reason's manly rule
And mild humanity's more tender care.
Thrice blest be he! soft pity copious show's
Thy gracious dews upon his head; refresh
His tender heart, and glad his darksome days.
He to Almeria first his purpose spoke.
She meek and timid fair, by nature fearful,
But more through love, with look ineffable,
And glist'ning eyes, with soft affection bright,
Thus Tipake, “ Why try the dangerous wave to-day!
“ Oft have 'I fear'd some dire milhap, when thou
* Upon the faithless inain haft solace fought,
fi Where unknown horror lurks, and hidden fnares.
* This day is sacred to the rites of love;
$ This anniversal of the happy year
“ Since first our hands we join'd; and mutual pledg'a
“ Our faith. This happy day with me consume;
« With me, I pray, and with our little race."
And then she turn's delighted looks to where
Their rofy infants, dew-drops of gay health,
Spring buds of purple youth, sported around.
To this, of answ'ring feelings raptur'd full,
Though all the father, all the huiband rose
At once; and tides o'erflowing of rich joy
Almost his bosom burst, he answer made.
“ Sweet sharer of my days! partner of my bliss!
“ Fear not. I leave thee for a little space;
" And long before brown night its shades extends,
“ Shall to thy arms return. Short absence makes
" True love more fweet.” O blindness to the future !
That kindly veils sharp pain's perspective ills :
Hides what no caution can avoid, or keeps
From greater ills of choice! Silent, depress'd
Almeria fat; placid, though not content;
And forc'd a smile that would confent have spoken,
And wip'd in haste, a stealthful tear unseen,
That fear had drop'd upon her downcast eye;
And check'd a figh that apprehension breath'd,
Soft as the summer evening zephyr curls
The crimson bosom of the Neepy lake.
Now from the port the impatient vessel steers,
And to the wanton gales the swelling fails
Their bosoms gave, and gliding swift before
The fresh’ning breeze, that brushing kiss'd the wave,
The painted vessel danc'd, light, trim, and gay.
With equal speed the shores receding flew,
Till far into the azure main they gain'd.
Deceitful morn! why doit thou smile so fair?
Shall nature be fo false? Frelh’ning the breeze
Swells to a gale: the shifting gale a storm;
That adverse soon forbad all hop'd return,
And access to the wished-for land denied.
Alas! poor Thelamont! thy drifting bark
Flies fást before the furious winds, that mad
And cruel wing thee from thy fading home;
The lov'd, the happy spot, where wait thy own
Thy dear delights, thy rosy smiling babes;
The softest, sweetest, partner of thy care.
Nor evening greets thee now with promis'd joy:
Nor infant Iports; nor her kind arms that wrap
Thee in the lap of love; the flowery bow'r,
That shields from every blaft, from every pain,
Far, far, from those, and every soothing joy ;
Art thou to dreary, friendless night coniga'd;
And all the horrors of the rough rude storm.
The closing eve, meantime with moisten'd lids,
Sunk now, and fad, on ocean's troubled bed,
In sympathy of melancholy fate.
On the remorseless main, ber anxious eye
Almeria caft, where madness furious play'd,
And through the thick’ning mist did fancy paint
of grief, the veftel's distant form,
That held the lord, the fharer of her heart.
Her children oft, Ohappy age! whom yet
Hope e'er delights, look'd through the darkning scene,
And in imagination's picture law
The bark, and hail'd their parent's bleft return :
And made more keen Almeria's frantic woe,
When e'en deceptive promise fail'd to cheat,
And duil, blank disappointment coldly frown'd.
Go wrap your fondling arms, ye smiling babes!
Strain close your fainting mother's breast! kiss, kiss
Away the tears ! that flowing fountains run,
And mingle pity's stream, with her full tide.
She needs your every soothing art, your wiles
To mellow sharp distress! for never more
Shall 0:e save in your sweetly-dimpling cheeks,
That picture sweet remembrance of palt love,
The unfading image of your fire behold.
Laf fancy fail'd, and cruel frowning night
Denied e'en chearing hope, and rolling slow
In pitchy darkness wrap'd the ruin'd scene.
INVOCATION to Fancy and FORGETFULNESS to chase away the Demon
[From the Pains of MEMORY, a Poom, by ROBERT MERRY, A. M.}
YOME then, creative Fancy! hither bend
, friend ;
Raise by thy potent fpells the castles fair,
Which charm the eve, thought built, but in the air ;
Confole the poor with visionary wealth,
And lure the Gck man to the bow'rs of health;,
To myrtle groves the panting lover bring,
And scatter roses from thy fairy wing;
The maid ador'd, though faithless as the wind,
Shall there be ever constant, ever kind,
With fond approval listen to his tale,
Melt at his fighs, and let his vows prevaila
Thou bidt the soldier win, with proud delight,
The deathless laurel of imagin'd fight,
Spur his bold steed the routed foe io reach,
Or foremost, sword in hand, ascend the breach,
Thy magic influence makes the coward brave,
Gives ease to anguish, freedom to the Nave:
Yet, he alas ! condemn’d for evermore,
To tug with hopeless toit the heavy oar,
To guide the galley thro' the boift'rous fea,
In ev'ry hour of refpite, flies to thee :
On the cold pallet stretch'd, his pangs fubfide,
O'er his rapt thought thy pageant pleafures glide,
Bright views entrance him, soft illusions rife,
Diffolve his chains, and lift him to the skies.
The niggard wretch at thy benign command,
Feels with new tendernefs his foul expand,
Wakens to charity, and grants relief,
At leaft in thought, to ev'ry human grief ;
Then, to reward his sympathetic tears,
Invokes prosperity, and length of years.
View'd thro''the medium of thy magic glass,
'The loveliest scenes in gay succession pass,
Each virtue glows in purest tints array'da
In native ugliness is vice display'd :
For never yet has mortal predelign'd
Himself unjust, deceitful, or unkind,
To gain the prize on which he loves to brood,
The means are proper, and the end is good.
Where'er thou deignst thy cheering glance to throw,
Full harvests bend, falubrious rivers flow,
Long lakes their gloffy surfaces unfold,
And heaven is deck'd with more resplendent gold.
Spontaneous forests cloathe the lonely heath,
And all creation brightens at thy breath.
Then Fancy, hither come, exert thy sway,
And chace the demon Mem'ry far away!
Thou too, Forgetfulness! whose opiate charm
Can hush the pathons, and their rage disarm,
Approach, o kindly grant thy suppliant aid
Wrap him in sweat oblivion's placid Aiade;
Veil the gay, transitory scenes, that fled,
Like gleamy sunshine o'er the mountain's head; ,
Sink in the dark abyfs of endless night
The artificial phantoms of deliglit;
Nor let his early ign'rance, and mistake,
The sober bliss of age and reason Make.
Hide from his heart each suff'ring country's woe,
And o'er its chains thy cov'ring mantle throw;