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Pale Famine moans with feeble breath,
What scenes of glory rise Before my dazzled eyes! Young Zephyrs wave their wanton wings, And melody celestial rings: Along the lilied lawn the nymphs advance, Flush'd with love's bloom, and range the sprightly
dance: The gladsome shepherds on the mountainside ArrayM in all their rural pride Exalt the festive note, Inviting Echo from her inmost grot— But ah! the landscape glows with fainter light, It darkens, swims, and flies for ever from my sight
Illusions vain! Can sacred Peace reside Where sordid gold the breast alarms, Where cruelty inflames the eye of Pride, And Grandeur wantons in soft Pleasure's arms? Ambition! these are thine: These from the soul erase the form divine; These quench the animating fire, That warms the bosom with sublime desire. Thence the relentless heart forgets to feel, Hate rides tremendous on tb/ o'erwhelming brow, And midnight Rancour grasps the cruel steel, Blaze the funereal flames, and sound the shrieks of Woe.
Waked by thy genial breath, the balmy rose?
On Cuba's utmost steep* Far leaning o'er the deep The goddess' pensive form was seen. Her robe of Nature's varied green Waved on the gale: grief dimm'd her radiant eyes, Her swelling bosom heaved with boding sighs: She eyed the main; where, gaining en the view, Emerging from th' ethereal blue, 'Midst the dread pomp of war Gleam'd the Iberian streamer from afar. She saw; and on refulgent pinions borne Slow wing'd her way sublime, and mingled with the morn.
* Alluding to the discovery of America by the Spaniards under Columbus. These ravngers are supposed to have made: iheir first descent on ihe islands in the gulf of Florida, of which Cuba is cue.
TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY.
MEMORY, be still! why throng upon the thought
Yes—from afar a landscape seems to rise,
How blest the youth in yonder valley laid! Soft smiles in every conscious feature play, While to the gale low-murmuring through the glade He tempers sweet his sprightly warbling lay.
Hail Innocence! whose bosom all ser.ene, Feels not fierce passion's raving tempest roll! Oh ne'er may Care distract that placid mien! Oh ne'er may Doubt's dark shades o'erwhelm thy Suul
Vain wish! for lo, in gay attire conceal'd Yonder she comes! the heart inflaming fiend! (Will no kind power the helpless stripling shield?) Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend!
O smile accurst to hide the worst designs! Now with blithe eye she wooes him to be blest, While round her arm unseen a serpent twines— And lo, she hurls it hissing at his breast!
And, instant, lo, his dizzy eye ball swims Ghastly, and, reddening, darts a threatful glare? Pain with stroug grasp distorts his writhing limbs, And Fear's cold hand erects his bristling hair!
Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime?
How memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile
Now when fierce Winter, arm'd with wasteful power,
Ambition here displays no gilded toy
Oft has Contentment cheer'd this lone abode
E'en the storm lulls to more profound repose: The storm these humble walls assails in vain; Screen'd is the lily when the whirlwind blows, While the oak's stately ruin strews the plain.
Blow on, ye winds! Thine, Winter, be the skies<>
Throned in her emerald-car see Spring appear I
Around the jocund Hours are fluttering seen;
Haste, happy days, and make all nature glad—
Will ye ono transient ray of gladness dart
When fell Oppression in his harpy-fangs
For ah I thy reign, Oppression, is not past.
O ye, to Pleasure who resign the day,
But hop'st thou, Muse, vain glorious as thou art,
Then cease the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye, Thy weeping eye, nor farther urge thy flight j Thy haunts, alasl no gleams of joy supply, Or transient gleams, that flash, and sink in night.