Then comes, sweet nymph, instead of thee, O may that fiend be banish'd far, If the fair star of fortune smile, If Heav'n, in ev'ry purpose wise, And for the due bread of the day, Howe'er exalted or deprest, The soul that one long sabbath keeps, Dull peace, that dwells in folly's eye, Alike the foolish and the vain Are strangers to the sense humane. O for that sympathetic glow Which taught the holy tear to flow, Or, rais'd to heav'n, implor'd the bread Which taught the holy tear to flow! It comes: it fills my lab'ring breast, Life, fill'd with grief's distressful train, And now they part-to meet no more. Parent of virtue, if thine ear Attend not now to sorrow's cry; If now the pity-streaming tear Should haply on thy cheek be dry, Indulge my votive strain, O sweet Humanity! ELEGY. Dark gathering clouds involve the threatening skies, The sea heaves conscious of the impending gloom, Deep, hollow murmurs from the cliffs arise; They come the Spirits of the Tempest come! Oh! may such terrors mark the approaching night. • As reign'd on that these streaming eyes deplore ! Flash, ye red fires of heaven, with fatal light, And with conflicting winds, ye waters roar ! •Loud and more loud, ye foaming billows! burst! Ye warring elements, more fiercely rave! Till the wide waves o'erwhelm the spot accurst, • Where ruthless Avarice finds a quiet grave!" Thus with clasp'd hands, wild looks, and streaming hair, While shrieks of horror broke her trembling speech, A wretched maid—the victim of despair, Survey'd the threatening storm and desart beech: Then to the tomb where now the father slept Whose rugged nature bade her sorrows flow, Frantic she turn'd-and beat her breast and wept, Invoking vengeance on the dust below. Lo! rising there above each lumber heap, Oh! my lost love! no tomb is plao'd for thee, That may to strangers eyes thy worth impart 3 • Thou hast no grave, but in the stormy sea, And no memorial but this breaking heart. Forth to the world, a widow'd wanderer driven, Oh! might I fondly clasp him once again, While o'er my head the infuriate billows pour, Forget in death this agonizing pain, And feel his father's cruelty no more! Part, raging waters part, and shew beneath, In your dread cayes, his pale and mangled form; Now, while the demons of despair and death ↑ Ride on the blast, and urge the howling storm! |