Reflection fickens at the life-long tie,

Back-glancing Mem'ry acts her busy part,
Its charms the world unfolds to Fancy's eye,
And sheds allurement on the wishful heart.

Lo! Discord enters at the facred porch,
Rage in her frown, and terror on her creft:
Ev'n at the hallow'd lamps fhe lights her torch,
And holds it flaming to each virgin breast.

But fince the legends of monaftic blifs
By Fraud are fabled, and by Youth believ'd.
Unbought experience learn from my diftrefs,
Oh! mark my lot, and be no more deceiv'd.
Three luftres scarce with hafty wing were fled,
When I was torn from ev'ry weeping friend,
A thoughtless victim to the temple led,
And (blush, ye parents !) by a father's hand.

Yet, then, what folemn scenes deceiv'd my choice!
The pealing organ's animating found,

The choral virgin's captivating voice,

The blazing altar, and the priests around :

The train of youths, array'd in purest white,
Who fcatter'd myrtles as I pafs'd along :
The thousand lamps that pour'd a flood of light,
The kifs of peace from all the veftal throng.

The golden cenfers tofs'd with graceful hand,
Whose fragrant breath Arabian odour shed:
Of meek-ey'd novices the circling band,
With blooming chaplets wove around their head.

-My willing foul was caught in rapture's flame,
While facred ardour glow'd in ev'ry vein:
Methought applauding angels fung my name,
And heav'ns unfulfied glories gilt the fane.

This temporary tranfport foon expir'd,
My drooping heart confefs'd a dreadful void :
E'er fince, alas! abandon'd, uninfpir'd,
I tread this dome to Mifery allied.

No wakening Joy informs my fullen breaft,
Thro' opening fkies no radiant Seraph fmiles,
No faint defcends to footh my foul to reft,
No dream of blifs the dreary night beguiles.

Here

Here haggard Discontent ftill haunts my view;
The fombre genius reigns in ev'ry place,
Arrays each virtue in the darkeft hue,
Chills ev'ry pray'r, and cancels ev'ry grace.

I meet her ever in the cheerlefs cell,
The gloomy grotto and unfocial wood:
I hear her ever in the midnight bell,
The hollow gale, and hoarfe-refounding flood.
This caus'd a mother's tender tears to flow,
(The fad remembrance time fhall ne'er erase)
When having feal'd th' irrevocable vow,
I haften'd to receive her laft embrace.

Full well the then prefag'd my wretched fate,
Th' unhappy moments of each future day:
When lock'd within this terror-shedding grate,
My joy-deferted foul would pine away.

Yet ne'er did her maternal voice unfold
This cloister'd scene in all its horror drest ;
Nor did she then my trembling fteps withhold
When here I enter'd a reluctant guest.

Ah! could fhe view her only child betray'd,
And let fubmiffion o'er her love prevail !
Th' unfeeling priest why did fhe not upbraid?
Forbid the vow, and rend the hov❜ring veil ?

Alas! fhe might not her relentless lord
Had feal'd her lips, and chid her ftreaming tear;
So anguish in her breast conceal'd its hoard,
And all the mother funk in dumb despair.

But thou who own'ft a father's facred name,
What act impell'd thee to this ruthless deed?
What crime had forfeited my filial claim?
And giv'n (oh, blasting thought!) thy heart to bleed!

If, then, thine injur'd child deserve thy care,
Oh, hafte and bear her from this lonesome gloom!
In vain no words can footh his rigid ear:
And Gallia's laws have rivetted my doom.

Ye cloifter'd fair-ye cenfure-breathing faints,
Supprefs your taunts, and learn at length to fpare;
Tho' mid thefe holy walls I vent my plaints,
And give to forrow what is due to pray'r.

I fled not to this manfion's deep recefs,
To veil the blushes of a guilty fhame,
The tenor of an ill-fpent life redress,
And fnatch from infamy a finking name.

Yet let me to my fate fubmiffive bow:
From fatal fymptoms, if I right conceive,
This ftream, Ophelia, has not long to flow,
This voice to murmur, and this breast to heave.
Ah! when extended on th' untimely bier,
To yonder vault this form fhall be convey'd,
Thou❜lt not refuse to shed one grateful tear,
And breathe the requiem to my fleeting shade.
With pious footstep join the fable train,
As thro' the lengthening ifle they take their way:
A glimmering taper let thy hand fustain,
Thy foothing voice attune the funeral lay:
Behold the minister who lately gave
The facred veil, in garb of mournful hue,
(More friendly office) bending o'er my grave,
And fprinkling my remains with hallow'd dew:
As o'er the corfe he ftrews the rattling duft,
The fterneft heart will raife compaffion's figh:
Ev'n then, no longer to his child unjust,
The tears may trickle from a father's eye.

Characters of the Italians and Swiss contrasted.

From the Traveller, or a Prospect of Society, a Poem, by Dr. Goldsmith.

F

AR to the right, where Appennine afcends,
Bright as the fummer, Italy extends;

Her uplands floping, deck the mountain's fide,
Woods over woods, in gay theatric pride.1
While oft fome temple's mould'ring top between,
With venerable grandeur marks the scene.

Could Nature's bounty fatisfy the breast,

The fons of Italy were furely bleft;

Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rife, or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright fucceffion decks the varied year;
Whatever fweets falute the northern sky
With vernal lives that bloffom but to die ;
Thefe here difporting, own the kindred foil,
Nor afk luxuriance from the planter's toil;

While

While fea-born gales their gelid wings expand
To winnow fragrance round the fmiling land.

But small the blifs that fenfe alone beftows,
And fenfual blifs is all this nation knows.
In florid beauty groves and fields
appear,
Men feem the only growth that dwindles here.
Contrafted faults through all their manners reign,
Though poor, luxurious; though fubmiffive, vain
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue;
And even in penance planning fins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed, leaves behind

;

For wealth was theirs, nor far remov'd the date,
When Commerce proudly flourish'd through the state:
At her command the palace learnt to rife,
Again the long-fall'n column fought the skies;
The canvas glow'd beyond even nature warm,
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.
But, more unsteady than the fouthern gale,
Soon Commerce turn'd on other fhores her fail;
And late the nation found, with fruitless skill,
Their former ftrength was now plethoric ill.

Yet, though to fortune loft, here still abide
Some fplendid arts, the wrecks of former pride;
For which the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind
An eafy compenfation feem to find.

Here may be feen, in bloodless pomp array'd,
The paste-board triumph, and the cavalcade ;
Proceffions form'd for piety and love,

A mistress or a faint in every grove.
By fports like these are all their cares beguil'd,
The fports of children fatisfy the child,
At fports like thefe, while foreign arms advance,
In paffive ease they leave the world to chance.

When ftruggling Virtue finks by long controul
She leaves at laft, or feebly mans the foul,
While low delights, fucceeding faft behind,
In happier meannefs occupy the mind :
As in those domes, where Cæfars once bore sway,
Defac'd by time and tottering in decay,
Amidst the ruin, heedlefs of the dead,
The fhelter-seeking peafant builds his shed,
And, wond'ring man could want the larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile,

My foul turn from them, turn we to furvey
Where rougher climes a nobler race difplay,
Where the bleak Swifs their ftormy manfions tread,
And force a churlish foil for fcanty bread;
No product here the barren hills afford,

But man and steel, the foldier and his sword.
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But winter lingering chills the lap of May;
No zephyr fondly foothes the mountain's breast,
But meteors glare, and ftormy glooms invest:
Yet ftill, even here, Content can spread a charm,
Redress the clime, and all its rage difarm.
Tho' poor the peafant's hut, his feaft tho' fmall,
He fees his little lot, the lot of all ;
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
To fhame the meannefs of his humble shed ;
No coftly lord the fumptuous banquet deal
To make him loath his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each with contracting, fits him to the foil.
Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes;
With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
Or drives his vent'rous plough-fhare to the steep;
Or feeks the den where fnow-tracks mark the way,
And drags the struggling favage into day.
At night returning, every labour sped,
He fits him down the monarch of a fhed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round furveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boaftful of her hoard,
Difplays the cleanly platter on the board;
And haply too fome pilgrim, thither led,
With many a tale repays the nightly bed.

Thus every good his native wilds impart,
Imprints the patriot paffion on his heart.
Dear is that fhed to which his foul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the ftorms;
And as a babe, when scaring founds molest,
Clings close and closer to the mother's breaft ;
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.

These are the charms to barren ftates affign'd
Their wants are few, their wishes all confin'd.

Yet