Till Time, in league with Envy and with Death, Blast the skill'd hand, and stop the tuneful breath; My Craufurd still shall claim the mournful song, So long remember'd, and bewail'd so long.
FRIEND, sister, partner of that gentle heart
Where my soul lives, and holds her dearest part;
While love's soft raptures these gay hours employ,
And time puts on the yellow robe of joy ;
Will you, Maria, mark with patient ear
The moral Muse, nor deem her song severe ?
Through the long course of Life's unclouded day, Where sweet Contentment smiles on Virtue's way; Where Fancy opes her ever-varying views,
And Hope strews flowers, and leads you as she
May each fair pleasure court thy favour'd breast, By truth protected, and by love caress'd!
So Friendship vows, nor shall her vows be vain ;
For every pleasure comes in Virtue's train;
Each charm that tender sympathies impart,
The glow of soul, the transports of the heart;
Sweet meaning, that in silent truth convey
Mind into mind, and steal the soul away;
These gifts, O Virtue! these are all thy own;
Lost to the vicious, to the vain unknown;
* Addressed to the author's sister-in-law, on her marriage in
Yet blest with these, and happier charms than these,
By Nature form'd, by genius taught to please,
E'en you, to prove that mortal gifts are vain,
Must yield your human sacrifice to pain;
The wizard Care shall dim those brilliant eyes,
Smite the fair urns, and bid the waters rise.
With mind unbroke that darker hour to bear,
Nor, once his captive, drag the chains of Care,
Hope's radiant sunshine o'er the scene to pour,
Nor future joys in present ills devour,
These arts your philosophic friend may show,
Too well experienc'd in the school of woe!
In some sad hour, by transient grief opprest,
Ah let not vain reflection wound your breast;
For memory, then, to happier objects blind,
Though once the friend, the traitor of the mind,
Life's varied sorrows studious to explore,
Turns the sad volume of its sufferings o'er.
Still to the distant prospect stretch your eye,
Pass the dim cloud, and view the brightening sky;
On Hope's kind wing, more genial climes survey,
Let Fancy join, but Reason guide your way;
For Fancy, still to tender woes inclin❜d,
May sooth the heart, but misdirects the mind.
The source of half our anguish, half our tears,
Is the wrong conduct of our hopes and fears;
Like ill train'd children, still their treatment such,
Restrain'd too rashly, or indulg'd too much.
Hence Hope, projecting more than life can give,
Would live with angels, or refuse to live;
Hence spleen-ey'd Fear, o'er-acting Caution's part,
Betrays those succours Reason lends the heart.
Yet these, submittted to fair Truth's control,
These tyrants are the servants of the soul:
Through vales of peace the dove-like Hope shall
And bear at eve her olive-branch away,
In every scene some distant charm descry,
And hold it forward to the brightening eye;
While watchful Fear, if Fortitude maintain
Her trembling steps, shall ward the distant pain.
Should erring Nature casual faults disclose,
Wound not the breast that harbours your repose:
For every grief that breast from you shall prove,
Is one link broken in the chain of love.
Soon, with their objects, other woes are past,
But pains from those we love are pains that last.
Though faults or follies from Reproach may fly,
Yet in its shade the tender passions die.
Love, like the flower that courts the Sun's kind ray,
Will flourish only in the smiles of day;
Distrust's cold air the generous plant annoys,
And one chill blight of dire Contempt destroys.
O shun, my friend; avoid that dangerous coast,
Where peace expires, and fair affection's lost;
By wit, by grief, by anger urg'd, forbear
The speech contemptuous, and the scornful air.
If heart-felt quiet, thoughts unmixt with pain,
While peace weaves flowers o'er Hymen's golden
If tranquil days, if hours of smiling ease, [chain;
The sense of pleasure, and the power to please,
If charms like these deserve your serious care,
Of one dark foe, one dangerous foe beware!
Like Hecla's mountain, while his heart's in flame,
His aspect's cold, and Jealousy's his name.
His hideous birth his wild disorders prove,
Begot by Hatred on despairing Love!
Her throes in rage the frantic mother bore,
And the fell sire with angry curses tore
His sable hair-Distrust beholding smil'd,
And lov'd her image in her future child.
With cruel care, industrious to impart
Each painful sense, each soul-tormenting art,
To Doubt's dim shrine her hapless charge she led,
Where never sleep reliev'd the burning head,
Where never grateful fancy sooth'd suspense,
Or the sweet charm of easy confidence.
Hence fears eternal, ever-restless care,
And all the dire associates of despair.
Hence all the woes he found that peace destroy,
And dash with pain the sparkling stream of joy.
When love's warm breast, from rapture's trembling height,
Falls to the temperate measures of delight;
When calm delight to easy friendship turns,
Grieve not that Hymen's torch more gently burns.
Unerring Nature, in each purpose kind,
Forbids long transports to usurp the mind;
For, oft dissolv'd in joy's oppressive ray,
Soon would the finer faculties decay.
True tender love one even tenor keeps;
"Tis reason's flame, and burns when passion sleeps.
The charm connubial, like a stream that glides
Through life's fair vale, with no unequal tides,
With many a plant along its genial side,
With many a flower that blows in beauteous pride,
With many a shade, where peace in rapturous rest
Holds sweet affiance to her fearless breast;
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