This pleasing error, did it ever lull
Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refus d The silken fetters of delicious ease?
Or when divine Euphrosyne appear'd Within this dwelling, did not thy desires Hang far below that measure of thy fate, Which I reveal'd before thee? and thy eyes, Impatient of my counsels, turn away To drink the soft effusion of her smiles? Know then, for this the everlasting sire Deprives thee of her présence, and instead, O wise and still benevolent! ordains This horrid visage hither to pursue
My steps; that so thy nature may discern Its real good, and what alone can save Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill
From folly and despair. O yer belov'd!
Let not this headlong terror quite o`erwhelm
Thy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rage Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, While I am here to vindicate thy toil, Above the generous question of thy arm. Brave by thy fears, and in thy weakness strong, This hour he triumphs; but confront his might, And dare him to the combat; then with ease, Disarm d and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns To bondage and to scorn; while thus inur'd By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, The immortal mind, superior to his fate, Amid the outrage of external things,
Firm as the solid base of this great world,
Rests on his own foundations. Blow ye winds!
Ye waves! ye thunders! roll your tempests on ; Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky,
Till all its orbs, and all its worlds of fire
Be loosened from their seats; yet still serene,
The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck ;
And, ever stronger as the storms advance,
Firm through the closing ruin holds his way,
Where nature calls him to the destin'd goal.
So spake the goddess, while through all her frame
Celestial raptures flow'd, in every word,
In every motion kindling warmth divine
To seize who listened. Vehement and swift, As lightning fires the aromatic shade
In Ethiopean fields, the stripling felt Her inspiration catch his fervid soul, And starting from his langour thus exclaim'd.
Then let the trial come !, and witness thou, If terror be upon me; if I shrink
To meet the storm, or falter in my strength, When hardest it besets me. Do not think That I am fearful and infirm of soul,
As late thy eyes beheld; for thou hast chang'd My nature thy commanding voice has wak'd My languid powers to bear the boldly on, Where'er the will divine my path ordains Through toil or peril; only do not thou Forsake me; O be thou forever near, That I may listen to thy sacred voice,
And guide by thy decrees my constant feet.
But say, for ever are my eyes bereft ?
Say, shall the fair Euphrosyne not once
Appear again to charm me! Thou, in heaven!
O thou eternal arbiter of things!
Be thy great bidding done; for who am I
To question thy appointment? Let the frowns Of this avenger every morn o'ercast
The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp, With double night, my dwelling; I will learn To hail them both, and unrepining bear His hateful presence; but permit my tongue One glad request, and, if my deeds may find Thy awful eye propitious, O restore
The rosy featur'd maid, again to cheer
This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles..
He spoke when instant, through the sable glooms,
With which that furious presence had involv'd The ambient air, a flood of radiance came Swift as the lightning flash; the melting clouds Flew diverse, and, amid the blue serene Euphrosyne appeard. With sprightly step The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn, And to her wond'ring audience thus began.
Lo! I am here to answer to your vows,
And be the meeting fortunate; I come
With joyful tidings we shall part no more.
Hark! how the gentle Echo, from her cell
Talks through the cliffs, and murm'ring o'er the stream,
Repeats the accent, we shall part no more.' O my delightful friends, well pleas'd, on high, The father has beheld you, while the might Of that stern foe with bitter trial prov'd Your equal doings; then forever spake The high decree; that thou, celestial maid, Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more Shalt thou, descending to the abcde of man, Alone endure the rancour of his arm, Or leave thy lov'd Euphrosyne behind.
She ended; and the whole romantic scene
Immediate vanish'd; rocks, and woods, and rills
The mantling tent and each mysterious form Flew like the pictures of a morning dream, When sunshine fills the bed. A while I stood Perplex'd and giddy, till the radiant Who bade the visionary landscape rise, As up to him I turn d with gentlest looks, Preventing my enquiry, thus began.
There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint
How blind, how impious! There behold the ways
Of heaven's eternal destiny to man,
For ever just, benevolent and wise;
That virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued
By vexing fortune and intrusive pain,
Should never be divided from her chaste, Her fair attendant, pleasure. Need I urge Thy tardy thought thro' all the various round Of this existence, that thy soft'ning soul At length may learn, what energy the hand Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide
Of passions swelling with distress and pain, To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth, Why the cold urn of her whom long he lov d So often fills his arms; so often draws
His lonely footsteps at the silent hour,
To pay the mournful tribute of his tears?
O! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego That sacred hour when stealing from the noise Of care and envy, sweet remembrance sooths With virtue's kindest looks, his aching breast, And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd
Which flies impatient from the village walk To climb the neighb`ring cliffs, when far below The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast Some hapless bark; while sacred pity melts The general eye, terror's icy hand
Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair: While every mother closer to her breast
Catches her child, and pointing where the waves Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud, As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, As now another dash'd against the rocks, Drops lifeless down; O deemest thou indeed No kind endearment here by nature given To mutual terror and compassion's tears? No sweetly melting softness which attracts, O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers To this their proper action and their end?
Ask thy own heart: When, at the midnight hour,
Slow through that studious gloom, thy pausing eye, Led by the glimmering taper, moves around The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame For Grecian heroes, where the present pow'r Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal soul Ev'n as a father's blessing, while he reads The praises of his son.-If then thy page, Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days,
Mix in their deeds and kindle with their flame;
Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view,
When rooted from the base, heroic states
Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown
Of curst ambition; when the pious band
Of youths, who fought for freedom and their sires,
Lie side by side in gore; when ruffian pride
Usurps the throne of justice, turns the pomp
Of public power, the majesty of rule,
The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe,
To slavish, empty pageants, to adorn
A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes
Of such as bow the knee; when honour'd urns
Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust
And storied arch, to glut the coward rage Of regal envy, strew the public way
With hallowed ruins; when the muse's haunt The marble porch where wisdom wont to talk
With Socrates or Tully, hears no more, Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, Or female superstition's midnight prayer; When ruthless rapine from the hand of time Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow To sweep the works of glory from their base; Till desolation o'er the grass grown street Expands his raven wings, and up the wall, Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd, Hisses the gliding snake thro' hoary weeds That clasp the mould'ring column; thus defac'd,
Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm In fancy hurls the thunder bolt of Jove
To fire the impious wreath, on Philip's brow,
"Intrude upon mine ea?" The baleful dregs
Of these late ages, this inglorious draught
Of servitude and folly, have not yet,
Blest be the eternal ruler of the world! Defil'd to such a depth of sordid shame The native honors of the human soul, Nor so effac'd the image of its sire.
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