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Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!
Nor care beyond to-day;
And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah ! shew them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murd'rous band !
Ah! tell them they are men.. These shall the fury passions tear,
The vulturs of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
And Shame, that skulks behind ; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the secret heart! And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visag'd, comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
And grinning Infamy: The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow; And keen Remorse, with blood defil'd. And moody Madness laughing wild
Amid severest woe. ,
A grisly troop are seen,
More hideous than their queen:
Those in the deeper vitals rage;
And slow-consuming Age,
To each his suff'rings; all are men
Condemn'd alike to groan,
Th' unfeeling for his own.
And Happiness too swiftly flies ?
'Tis folly to be wise.
To Adversity. TAUGHTER of Jove, relentless pow'r,
Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour.
The bad affright, afflict the best! Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain ! And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpity'd and alone. . When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design'd, To thee he gave the heav'nly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind :
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Wisdom, in simple garb array'd,
Inmers'd in rapt'rous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground Still on thy solemn steps attend; Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head,
Dread Goddess ! lay thy chast'ning hand, Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with thy vengeful band : (As by the impious thou art seen) With thund'ring voice and threat'ning mien, With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty, Thy form benign, O Goddess ! wear,
Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there,
To soften, not to wound my heart : The gen'rous spark extinct revive; Teach me to love and to forgive; Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man.
IV Confusion on thy banners wait;
Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
I. 3. Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hush'd the stormy main ; Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : Mountains! ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head. On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale ; Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail, The famish'd eagle screams and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye dy'd amidst your dying country's cries-
No more I weep. They do not sleep;
II. 1. “ Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race: Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death thro' Berkley's roofs that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing king! She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, From thee be born who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him
wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
II. 2. Mighty victor, mighty lord, Low ou his fun'ral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies ! Is the sable warrior fled ? Thy son is gone; he rests among the dead. The swarm that in thy noontide beam were born, Gone to salute the rising morn: Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm, In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow and pleasure at the helm, Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his ey'ning prey,