Regret beheld her drooping, than the Bells
Of Lilies; Faireft Lilies not fo fair.
Queen Lilies? and ye painted Populace!
Who dwell in Fields, and lead ambrofial Lives;
In morn and ev'ning Dew, your Beauties bathe,
And drink the Sun; which gives your Cheeks to glow,
And out-blush (mine excepted) ev'ry Fair;
You gladlier grew, ambitious of her Hand,
Which often cropt your Odours, Incense meet
To Thought fo pure; her flow'ry State of Mind
In Joy unfal'n. Ye lovely Fugitives!
Coaval Race with Man! for Man you fmile;
Why not smile at him too? You share indeed
His fudden Pafs; but not his conftant Pain.
So Man is made, nought ministers Delight, But what his glowing Paffions can engage; And glowing Paffions, bent on aught Below, Muft, foon or late, with Anguifh turn the Scale; And Anguish, after Rapture, how fevere ! Rapture? bold Man! who tempts the Wrath divine, By plucking Fruit deny'd to mortal Taste, While Here, prefuming on the Rights of Heaven, For Transport doft Thou call on ev'ry Hour, LORENZO? At thy Friend's Expence be wife; Lean not on Earth; 'twill pierce thee to the Heart; A broken Reed, at best; but, oft, a Spear; On its sharp Point Peace bleeds, and Hope expires.
Turn, hopeless Thought! turn from Her:-Thought Resenting rallies, and wakes ev'ry Woe.
Snatch'd ere thy Prime! and in thy bridal Hour!
And when kind Fortune, with thy Lover, fmil'd!
And when high-flavour'd thy fresh-op'ning Joys!
And when blind Man pronounc'd thy Blifs complete!
And on a Foreign Shore; where Strangers wept!
Strangers to Thee, and, more furprising ftill,
Strangers to Kindness, wept: Their Eyes let fall
Inhuman Tears; ftrange Tears, that trickled down
From marble Hearts! obdurate Tenderness!
A Tenderness that call'd them more fevere;
In Spite of Nature's foft Persuasion, steel'd;
While Nature melted, Superftition rav'd;
That mourn'd the Dead; and This deny'd a Grave.
Their Sighs incenft; Sighs foreign to the Will!
Their Will the Tyger fuckt, outrag'd the Storm,
For Oh! the curft Ungodliness of Zeal!
While finful Flefb relented, Spirit nurst
In blind Infallibility's Embrace,
The Sainted Spirit petrify'd the Breast;
Deny'd the Charity of Duft, to fpread
O'er Duft! a Charity their Dogs enjoy.
What cou'd I do? what Succour? what Resource?
With pious Sacrilege, a Grave I ftole;
With impious Piety that Grave I wrong'd;
Short in my Duty; Coward in my Grief!
More like her Murderer, than Friend, I crept,
With foft-fufpended Step; and, muffled deep
In midnight Darkness, whisper'd my Laft Sigh.
I whisper'd what fhould echo through their Realms;
Nor writ her Name, whofe Tomb fhould pierce the Skies.
Fresumptuous Fear! How durft I dread her Foes,
While Nature's loudeft Dictates I obey'd?
Pardon Neceffity, Bleft Shade! Of Grief
And Indignation rival Burfts I pour'd;
Half-execration mingled with my Prayer;
Kindled at-Man, while I his God ador'd;
Sore-grudg'd the Savage Land her Sacred Duft;
Stampt the curft Soil; and with Humanity
(Deny'd NARCISSA) wifht them all a Grave.
Glows my Refentment into Guilt! What Guilt
Can equal Violations of the Dead?
The Dead how Sacred! Sacred is the Duft
Of this Heav'n-labour'd Form, erect, divine!
This Heav'n-affum'd majestic Robe of Earth,
He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast Expanse
With Azure bright, and cloath'd the Sun in Gold.
When ev'ry Paffion fleeps that can offend;
When strikes us ev'ry Motive that can melt;
When Man can reek his Rancour uncontroul'd,
That strongest Curb on Infult and Ill-will;
Then, Spleen to Duft? the Duft of Innocence?
An Angel's Duft!This Lucifer tranfcends;
When He contended for the Patriarch's Bones,
Twas not the Strife of Malice, but of Pride
The Strife of Pontiff Pride, not Pontiff Gall.
Far less than This is fhocking in a Race
Moft wretched, but from Streams of mutual Love;
And uncreated, but for Love Divine;
And but for Love Divine, this Moment, loft,
By Fate reforb'd, and funk in endless Night.
Man hard of Heart to Man! Of horrid things
Moft horrid! Mid ftupendous, highly strange!
Yet oft his Courtefies are smoother Wrongs;
Pride brandishes the Favours He confers,
And contumelious his Humanity :
What then his Vengeance? Hear it not, ye Stars!
And thou, pale Moon! turn paler at the Sound;
Man is to Man the foreft, fureft Ill.
A previous Blast foretells the rifing Storm;
O'erwhelming Turrets threaten ere they fall
Volcano's bellow ere they difembogue;
Earth trembles ere her yawning Jaws devour
And Smoke betrays the wide-confuming Fire:
Ruin from Man is most conceal'd when near,
And fends the dreadful Tidings in the Blow.
Is this the Flight of Fancy? Would it were!
Heav'n's Sov'reign faves all Beings but Himself,
That hideous Sight, a naked human Heart.
Fir'd is the Mufe? And let the Mufe be fir'd: Who not inflam'd, when what He speaks, he feels,
And in the Nerve most tender, in his Friends?
Shame to Mankind! PHILANDER had his Foes;
He felt the Truths I fing, and I in Him.
But he, nor I, feel more: Paft Ills, NARCISSA!
Are funk in Thee, Thou recent Wound of Heart!
Which bleeds with other Cares, with other Pangs;
Pangs num'rous, as the num'rous Ills that fwarm'd
O'er thy diftinguifht Fate, and, eluft'ring There
Thick as the Locust on the Land of Nile,
Made Death more deadly, and more dark the Grave.
Reflect (if not forgot my touching Tale)
How was each Circumftance with Afpics arm'd?
An Afpic, Each; and All, an Hydra-Woe.
What ftrong Herculean Virtue could fuffice?-
Or is it Virtue to be conquer'd Here?
This hoary Cheek a Train of Tears bedews;
And each Tear mourns its own diftinct Diftrefs;
And each Diftrefs, diftinctly mourn'd, demands
Of Grief still more, as heighten'd by the Whale.
A Grief like this Proprietors excludes :
Not Friends alone fuch Obfequies deplore;
They make Mankind the Mourner; carry Sighs
Far as the fatal Fame can wing her Way,
And turn the gayeft Thought of gayeft Age,
Down their right Chanel, through the Vale of Death.
The Vale of Death! That hufht Cimmerian Vale, Where Darkness, brooding o'er unfinisht Fates, With Raven Wing incumbent, waits the Day
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