Pale Famine moans with feeble breath, I III. 3. What scenes of glory rise Before my dazzled eyes! Young Zephyrs wave their wanton wings, And melody celestial rings: Along the lilied lawn the nymphs advance, Flush'd with love's bloom, and range the sprightly dance: The gladsome shepherds on the mountain-side Exalt the festive note, Inviting Echo from her inmost grot- But ah! the landscape glows with fainter light, It darkens, swims, and flies for ever from my sight. IV. 1. Illusions vain! Can sacred Peace reside Where sordid gold the breast alarms, Where cruelty inflames the eye of Pride, And Grandeur wantons in soft Pleasure's arms? Ambition! these are thine : These from the soul erase the form divine; These quench the animating fire, That warms the bosom with sublime desire. of Woe. IV. 2. From Albion fled, thy once-beloved retreat, Waked by thy genial breath, the balmy rose? Does life inform fell Lybia's burning sand? Or does some isle thy parting flight detain, IV. 3. On Cuba's utmost steep❤ Far leaning o'er the deep The goddess' pensive form was seen. Waved on the gale: grief dimm'd her radiant eyes, 'Midst the dread pomp of war Gleam'd the Iberian streamer from afar. She saw; and on refulgent pinions borne Slow wing'd her way sublime, and mingled with the morn. * Alluding to the discovery of America by the Spaniards under Columbus. These ravagers are supposed to have made their first descent on the islands in the gulf of Florida, of which Cuba is one. THE TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY. MEMORY, be still! why throng upon the thought Yes-from afar a iandscape seems to rise, How blest the youth in yonder valley laid! Soft smiles in every conscious feature play, While to the gale low-murmuring through the glade He tempers sweet his sprightly warbling lay. Hail Innocence! whose bosom all serene, Feels not fierce passion's raving tempest roll ! Oh ne'er may Care distract that placid mien! Oh ne'er may Doubt's dark shades o'erwhelm thy soul Vain wish for lo, in gay attire conceal'd Yonder she comes! the heart-inflaming fiend! (Will no kind power the helpless stripling shield?) Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend! O smile accurst to hide the worst designs! Now with blithe eye she wooes him to be blest, While round her arm unseen a serpent twinesAnd lo, she hurls it hissing at his breast! And, instant, lo, his dizzy eye ball swims Ghastly, and, reddening, darts a threatful glare: Pain with strong grasp distorts his writhing limbs, And Fear's cold hand erects his bristiing hair! Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime? How memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile The musing mind, and soothe to soft delight. Ye images of woe, no more recoil; Be life's past scenes wrapt in oblivious night. Now when fierce Winter, arin'd with wasteful power, Ambition here displays no gilded toy Oft has Contentment cheer'd this lone abode E'en the storm lulls to more profound repose: The storm these humble walls assails in vain; Screen'd is the lily when the whirlwind blows, While the oak's stately ruin strews the plain. Blow on, ye winds! Thine, Winter, be the skies, Throned in her emerald car see Spring appear! Around the jocund Hours are fluttering seen; And lo, her rod the rose lip'd power extends! And lo, the lawns are deckt in living green, And Beauty's bright-eyed train from heaven descends! Haste, happy days, and make all nature glad- Say, can ye cheer pale Sickness' gloomy bed, Will ye one transient ray of gladness dart When fell Oppression in his harpy-fangs For ah! thy reign, Oppression, is not past. Who from the shivering limbs the vestment rends Who lays the once-rejoicing village waste, Bursting the ties of lovers and of friends? ye, to Pleasure who resign the day, As loose in Luxury's clasping arms you lie, yet let pity in your breast bear sway, And learn to melt at Misery's moving cry. But hop'st thou, Muse, vain glorious as thou art, With the weak impulse of thy humble strain, Hop'st thou to soften Pride's obdurate heart, When Errol's bright example shines in vain? Then cease the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye, Thy weeping eye, nor farther urge thy flight; Thy haunts, alas! no gleams of joy supply, Or transient gleams, that flash, and sink in night. |