FLORUS. See from the bow'r a form majestick moves, DAMON. Shine forth, thou fun! bright ruler of the day; THE TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY. M BY DR. BEATTIE. EM'RY, be ftill! why throng upon the thought Thefe fcenes, fo deeply ftain'd with Sorrow's dye? Is there in all thy ftores no chearful draught, To brighten yet once more in Fancy's eye? Yes-from afar a landscape seems to rife, Embellish'd by the lavish hand of Spring; Thin gilded clouds float lightly o'er the skies, And laughing Loves difport on flutt'ring wing. How blefs'd the youth, in yonder valley laid! Hail Innocence! whofe bofom, all ferene, Ne'er may the shades of Doubt o'erwhelm thy foul! Vain wifh! for lo, in gay attire conceal'd, O fmile accurs'd, to hide the worst defigns! Now with blithe eye fhe wooes him to be blefs'd; And inftant, lo! his dizzy eye-ball fwims Ghaftly, and redd'ning darts a frantick glare; Pain with ftrong grasp diftorts his writhing limbs, And Fear's cold hand erects his frozen hair. Is this, O Life, is this thy boasted prime ! How Mem❜ry pains! let fome gay theme beguile Ye images of Woe, no more recoil; Be Life's past scenes wrapp'd in oblivious night! Now, when fierce Winter, arm'd with wafteful pow'r, How sweet to fit in the fequefter'd bow'r, To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war! Ambition here difplays no gilded toy, That tempts on defperate wing the foul to rife; Nor Pleafure's paths to wilds of woe decoy, Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur's proud difguife. Oft Oft has Contentment chear'd this lone abode. Am. E'en the ftorm lulls to more profound repofe; Blow on, ye winds! thine, Winter, be the skies, And toss th' infuriate surge, and vales lay waste : Nature thy temporary rage defies; To her relief the gentler Seafons hafte. Thron'd in her emerald car, fee Spring appear! Around the jocund Hours are flutt'ring seen, Hafte, happy days! and make all Nature glad→→ O can ye chear pale Sickness' gloomy bed, Will ye one tranfient ray of gladness dart, When stern Oppression, in his harpy fangs, From Want's weak grasp the last sad morfel bears, Can ye allay the dying parent's pangs, Whose infant craves relief with fruitless tears? For, ah! thy reign, Oppreffion, is not pass'd, But hope not, Mufe, vain-glorious as thou art, When Erroll's bright example shines in vain. Then ceafe the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye, Yet fain the mind it's anguish would forego. What mingling pomps rush on th' enraptur'd gaze! Briftling with fpears, and bright with burnish'd shields, With bloody tincture ftains the face of day. And And now the hofts in filence wait the fign; Keen are their looks whom Liberty inspires: Quick as the Goddess darts along the line, Each breast impatient burns with noble fires. Her form how graceful! in her lofty mien The fmiles of Love ftern Wisdom's frown controul; Her fearless eye, determin'd tho' ferene, Speaks the great purpose, and th' unconquer'd foul. Mark, where Ambition leads the adverse band, Lo! at his call, impetuous as the storms, Headlong to deeds of death the hosts are driv'n; Hatred, to madness wrought, each face deforms, Mounts the black whirlwind, and involves the heav'n! Now, Virtue, now thy pow'rful fuccour lend, Not Virtue's felf, when Heav'n it's aid denies, When fefters in the foul Misfortune's dart. See where, by Terror and Despair dismay'd, The scatt'ring legions pour along the plain! Ambition's car, in bloody spoils array'd, Hews it's broad way, as Vengeance guides the rein. |