Still as they run they look behind, Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, And lively cheer, of vigour born ; Alas! regardless of their doom No sense have they of ills to come, Yet see, how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train ! Ah, show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murth'rous band! Ah, tell them, they are men ! C These shall the fury Passions tear, The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth, That inly gnaws the secret heart; And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise, And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen Remorse with blood defiled, And moody Madness laughing wild Amid severest woe. Lo! in the vale of years beneath A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their queen : This racks the joints, this fires the veins, Those in the deeper vitals rage: To each his suff'rings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, And happiness too swiftly flies? DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy sire to send on earth To thee he gave the heav'nly birth, Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore : What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the flatt'ring foe; By vain Prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom in sable garb array'd, Immersed in rapt'rous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend : Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread goddess, lay thy chast'ning hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Not circled with the vengeful band |