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Full many a melancholy night
And sought the powers of sleep
O'er his sad couch, and in the balm Of bland oblivion's dews his burning eyes to steep.
Full oft, unknowing and unknown,
Amid the autumnal wood :
with eager glance upon the tumbling flood.
Beckoning the wretch' to torments new,
A spectre pale, appear'd;
And brought the day's unwelcome close,
• Is this, (mistaken Scorn will cry) Is this the youth whose genius high
Could build the genuine rhyme;
Had stored with all her ample views,
Ah ! from the Muse that bosom mild
To strike the deathful blow :
With many a feeling too refined, And roused to livelier pangs his wakeful sense of woe.
Though doom'd hard penury to prove,
To griefs congenial prone;
While Misery's form his fancy drew
Then wish not o'er his earthy tomb
To drop its deadly dew :
That rudely binds his turf forlorn,
What though no marble-piled bust
With speaking sculpture wrought?
[brought. Hung with unfading flowers, from fairy regions
What though refused each chanted rite ?
To touch the shadowy shell :
Of Laura, lost in early bloom,
To soothe a lone, unhallow'd shade,
Within an ivied nook .
More radiant shot its parting ray,
Forbear, fond bard, thy partial praise ;
The wreath of glory twine:
[fine. Unless Truth's matron-hand the floating folds con
• Just Heaven, man's fortitude to prove,
The tribes of hell-born Woe:
Life's fiercest ills, indulgent lends
Her aid divine had lullid to rest
And stay'd the rising storm ;
To gild his darken’d hemisphere, And give the wonted bloom to Nature's blasted form.
“Vain man ! 'tis Heaven's prerogative
Thy tributary breath :
Await thy doom, nor impious haste
BOUND for holy Palestine,
• Syrian virgins, wail and weep,
Blondel led the tuneful band,
Soon we kiss'd the sacred earth
Lo, the toilsome voyage past, Heaven's favour'd hills appear at last ! Object of our holy vow, We tread the Tyrian valleys now. From Carmel's almond-shaded steep We feel the cheering fragrance creep : O'er Engaddi's shrubs of balm Waves the date-empurpled palm . See Lebanon's aspiring head Wide his immortal umbrage spread ! Hail, Calvary, thou mountain hoar, Wet with our Redeemer's gore ! Ye trampled tombs, ye faves forlorn; Ye stones, by tears of pilgrims worn; Your ravish'd honours to restore, Fearless we climb this hostile shore ! And thou, the sepulchre of God! By mocking pagans rudely trod, Bereft of every awful rite, And quench'd thy lamps that beam'd so bright; For from Britain's distant coast, Lo, Richard leads his faithful host !