But fince the legends of monaftick bliss,
By fraud are fabled, and by youth believ'd; Unbought experience learn from my distress,
Oh, mark my lot, and be no more deceiv'd!
Three luftres fcarce with hafty wing were fled,
When I was torn from ev'ry weeping friend;
A trembling victim to the temple led,
And (blush, ye parents!) by a father's hand.
Yet, then, what folemn fcenes deceiv'd my
The pealing organ's animating found;
The choral virgins captivating voice,
The blazing altar, and the priests around;
The train of youth, array'd in pureft white,
Who scatter'd myrtles as I pafs'd along;
The thousand lamps that pour'd a flood of light,
The kifs of Peace from all the vestal throng;
The golden cenfers tofs'd with graceful hand,
Whofe fragrant breath Arabian odour fhed;
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'n's unfullied glories gilt the fane.
Methought, in fun-beams rob'd, the heav'nly Spoufe
Indulg'd the longings of my holy love;
Not undelighted heard my virgin vows-
While o'er the altar wav'd the mystick dove.
This temporary tranfport foon expir'd;
My drooping heart confefs'd a dreadful void
Now helpless, Heav'n-abandon'd, uninfpir'd,
I tread this dome, to Mifery ally'd.
No wakening joy informs my fullen breaft,
Thro' op'ning fkies no radiant feraph fmiles;
No faint defcends to foothe my foul to reft;
No dream of blifs the dreary night beguiles.
Here haggard Difcontent ftill haunts my view,
The umber'd genius reigns in ev'ry place;
Arrays each virtue in the darkest hue,
Chills ev'ry pray'r, and cancels ev'ry grace.
I meet her ever in the chearless cell,
The gloomy grotto, and the darksome wood; I hear her ever in the midnight bell,
The chiding gale, and hoarfe-refounding flood.
This caus'd a mother's tender tears to flow,
(The fad remembrance time shall ne'er erafe!)
When having seal'd th' irrevocable vow,
I haften'd to receive her last embrace.
Yet ne'er did her maternal voice unfold,
This cloister'd fcene in all it's horror drefs'd; Nor did the then my trembling steps withold, 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 she 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 the rifing tear;
So Anguifh in her breaft conceal'd it's hoard,'
And all the mother funk in dumb defpair.
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, blafting thought!) thy heart to bleed?
If then thine injur'd child deferve thy care,
Oh, hafte and bear her from this lonesome gloom!"
In vain no words can foothe his rigid ear,
And Gallia's laws have riveted my doom.
Yet let me to my fate fubmiffive bow;
From fatal symptoms 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.
As thro' the length'ning ifle they take their way:
A glimmering taper let thy hand fuftain;
Thy foothing voice attune the funeral lay.
Behold the minifter who lately gave
The facred veil, in garb of mournful hue,
(More friendly office) bending o'er my grave,
And sprinkling my remains with hallow'd dew.
As o'er the corfe he ftrews the humbling duft,
The fterneft heart will raise Compaffion's figh;
E'en then, no longer to his child unjust,
The tears may trickle from a father's eye.
INSCRIBED TO THE REV. MR. H. GOLDSMITH.
EMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, flow,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wand'ring Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houseless stranger fhuts the door;
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,
A weary wafte expanding to the skies;
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to fee,
My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee:
Still to my
brother turns with ceafelefs pain,
And drags, at each remove, á length'ning chain.
Eternal bleffings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian faints attend;
Blefs'd be that fpot, where chearful guests retire,
To paufe from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Blefs'd that abode, where want and pain repair,
And ev'ry stranger finds a ready chair:
Blefs'd be thofe feafts, with fimple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jefts or pranks that hever fail,
Or figh with pity at fome mournful tale;
Or prefs the bafhful ftranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good!
But me, not deftin'd fuch delights to fhare,
My prime of life in wand'ring fpent and care:
Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle, bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no fpot of all the world my own.
E'en now, where Alpine folitudes afcend,
I fit me down a penfive hour to spend;
And plac'd on high, above the ftorm's career,
Look downward where an hundred realms appear;
Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide,
The pomp of kings, the fhepherd's humbler pride.
When thus Creation's charms around combine,
Amidst the ftore, fhould thankless pride repine?
Say, fhould the philofophick mind disdain
That good which makes each humbler bosom vain ?
Let fchool-taught pride diffemble all it can,
These little things are great to little man;
And wifer he, whofe fympathetick mind
Exults in all the good of all mankind.
Ye glitt❜ring towns, with wealth and splendor crown'd;
Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round;
Ye lakes, whofe veffels catch the bufy gale;
Ye bending fwains, that dress the flow'ry vale;
For me your tributary ftores combine:
Creation's heir! the world, the world is mine!
As fome lone mifer, vifiting his store,
Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er ;
Hoards after hoards his rifing raptures fill,
Yet ftill he fighs, for hoards are wanting ftill:
Thus to my breast alternate paffions rise,
Pleas'd with each good that Heav'n to man fupplies ;
Yet oft a figh prevails, and forrows fall,
To fee the hoard of human bliss fo fmall;
And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find
Some spot to real happiness confign'd,
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