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Yet for awhile let the bewilder'd soul
Find in society relief from woe;

O yield awhile to Friendship's soft control;
Some respite, Friendship, wilt thou not bestow!

Come, then, Philander, whose exalted mind
Looks down from far on all that charms the

great;

For thou canst bear, unshaken and resign'd,
The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate:

Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere,
Nor faction cools, nor injury destroys;
Who lend'st to Misery's moan a pitying ear,
And feel'st with ecstasy another's joys:

Who know'st man's frailty; with a favouring eye,
And melting heart, behold'st a brother's fall;
Who, unenslav'd by Fashion's narrow tie,
With manly freedom follow'st Nature's call.

And bring thy Delia, sweetly-smiling fair, Whose spotless soul no rankling thoughts deform;

>Her gentle accents calm each throbbing care, And harmonize the thunder of the storm:

Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refin'd, She courts no homage, nor desires to shine;

In her each sentiment sublime is join'd

To female softness, and a form divine.

Come, and disperse th' involving shadows drear; Let chasten'd mirth the social hours employ ; O catch the swift-wing'd moment while 'tis near, On swiftest wing the moment flies of joy.

Even while the careless disencumber'd soul
Sinks all dissolving into pleasure's dream,
Even then to time's tremendous verge we roll
With headlong haste along life's surgy stream.

Can Gaiety the vanish'd years restore,

Or on the withering limbs fresh beauty shed, Or soothe the sad inevitable hour,

Or cheer the dark, dark mansions of the dead?

Still sounds the solemn knell in fancy's ear,
That call'd Eliza to the silent tomb;

To her how jocund roll'd the sprightly year!
How shone the nymph in beauty's brightest

bloom!

Ah! Beauty's bloom avails not in the grave,

Youth's lofty mien, nor age's awful grace ; Moulder alike unknown the prince and slave, Whelm'd in th' enormous wreck of human race.

The thought-fix'd portraiture, the breathing bust,
The arch with proud memorials array'd,
The long-liv'd pyramid shall sink in dust
To dumb oblivion's ever-desert shade.

Fancy from joy still wanders far astray.

Ah, Melancholy! how I feel thy power! Long have I labour'd to elude thy sway!

But 'tis enough, for I resist no more.

The traveller thus, that o'er the midnight-waste Through many a lonesome path is doom'd to

roam,

Wilder'd and weary sits him down at last;

For long the night, and distant far his home.

ELEGY.

TIR'D with the busy crowds, that all the day Impatient throng where Folly's altars flame, My languid powers dissolve with quick decay, 'Till genial Sleep repair the sinking frame.

Hail, kind reviver! that canst lull the cares,
And every weary sense compose to rest,
Lighten th' oppressive load which anguish bears,
And warm with hope the cold desponding breast.

Touch'd by thy rod, from Power's majestic brow

Drops the gay plume; he pines a lowly clown; And on the cold earth stretch'd the son of Woe Quaffs Pleasure's draught, and wears a fancied

crown.

When rous'd by thee, on boundless pinions borne
Fancy to fairy scenes exults to rove,
Now scales the cliff gay-gleaming on the morn,
Now sad and silent treads the deepening grove;

Or skims the main, and listens to the storms,

Marks the long waves roll far remote away; Or mingling with ten thousand glittering forms, Floats on the gale, and basks in purest day.

Haply, ere long, pierc'd by the howling blast, Through dark and pathless deserts I shall roam, Plunge down th' unfathom'd deep, or shrink aghast Where bursts the shrieking spectre from the tomb:

Perhaps loose Luxury's enchanting smile

Shall lure my steps to some romantic dale, Where Mirth's light freaks th' unheeded hours beguile,

And airs of rapture warble in the gale.

Instructive emblem of this mortal state!
Where scenes as various every hour arise
In swift succession, which the hand of Fate
Presents, then snatches from our wondering eyes.

Be taught, vain man, how fleeting all thy joys,

Thy boasted grandeur, and thy glittering store; Death comes, and all thy fancied bliss destroys, Quick as a dream it fades, and is no more.

And, sons of Sorrow! though the threatening storm Of angry Fortune overhang awhile,

Let not her frowns your inward peace deform;

Soon happier days in happier climes shall smile.

Through Earth's throng'd visions while we toss forlorn,

'Tis tumult all, and rage, and restless strife; But these shall vanish like the dreams of morn, When Death awakes us to immortal life.

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