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I felt for thee, dear youth; my joy, my care,
My prayers themselves were thine, and only where
Thou wast concern'd, my virtue was fincere,
Whene'er I begg’d for blessings on thy head,
Nothing was cold, or formal, that I faid;
My warmest vows to heaven were made for thee,
And love still mingled with my piety.
O thou wast all my glory, all my pride !
Thro' life's uncertain paths, my constant guide:
Regardless of the world, to gain thy praise,
Was all that could my just ambition raise.
Why has my heart this fond engagement known?
Or why has heaven diffolv'd the tie so soon?
Why was the charming youth so form'd to move?
Or why was all my foul so turn'd for love?
But virtue here a vain defence had made,
Where so much worth and eloquence could plead.
For he could talk---'twas ecstacy to hear,
'Twas joy, 'twas harmony to every ear !
Eternal music dwelt upon his tongue,
Soft and transporting as the muse's song:
List ning to him, my cares were charm'd to rest,
And love, and silent rapture fill'd my breast;
Unheeded the gay moments took their flight,
And time was only measur'd by delight,
I hear the lov'd, the melting accents still,
And still the kind, the tender transport' feel :
Again I see the sprightly passions rise,
And life and pleasure sparkle in his eyes,
My fancy paints him now with every grace,
But, ah! the dear delusion mocks my fond embrace:
The smiling vision takes its hasty flight,
And scenes of horror swim before my sight,
Grief and despair in all their terrors rise,
A dying lover pale and gasping lies;
Each dismal circumstance appears in view,
The fatal object is for ever new :
His anguilh, with the quickest sense I feel,
And hear this sad, this moving language still.
My dearest wife! my last, my fondest care !
Sure Heaven for thee will hear a dying prayer :
Be thou the charge of sacred providence,
When I am gone, be that thy kind defence ;
Ten thousand smiling blessings crown thy head,
When I am cold, and number'd with the dead.
Think on thy vows, be to my mem'ry just,
My future fame and honor are thy trust.
From all engagements here I now am free,
But that which keeps my ling'ring soul with thee.
How much I love, thy bleeding heart can tell,
Which does, like mine, the pangs of parting feel :
But haste to meet me on those happy plains,
Where mighty love in endless triumph reigns.
He ceas’d; then gently yielded up his breath,
And fell a blooming sacrifice to death :
But, oh! what words, what numbers can express,
What thought conceive the height of my distress!
Why did they tear me from thy breathless clay?
I Thould have staid, and wept my life away.
Yet, gentle shade, whether thou now doft rove,
Thro' some blest vale, or ever-verdant grove;
One moment listen to my grief, and take
The softest vows that constant love can make.
For thee all thoughts of pleasure I forego,
For thee my tears shall never cease to flow;
For thee at once I from the world retire,
To feed, in silent shades, a hopeless fire.
My bosom all thy image shall retain,
The full impression there shall still remain.
As thou hast taught my constant heart to prove
The noblest height and elegance of love;
That sacred passion I to thee confine,
My spotless faith shall be for ever thine,
THY NAME IS AS OINTMENT POURED FOR TH."
BALMy name! O source of lasting joy!
Dwell on these lips and every thought employ; Dwell on these lips !---no; onward still pursue, My soul, my BODY, my WHOLE SELF renew. Saviour divine ! I something feel within, A heart of stone !---a heart made up of fin ! A rebel heart, devoid of blushing shame, Which nought can soften but thy balmy name; O let that name, like precious ointment prove, Flow round my heart and melt it into love,
Is done! the darling idol I resign,
Unfit to share a heart fo juftly thine; Nor can the heavenly call unwelcome be, That still invites my soul more near to thee; Thou doft but take the dying lamps away, To blefs me with thy own unmingled day. Ye fhades, ye phantoms, and ye dreams, adieu! With smiles I now your parting glories view. I see the hand, I worship, I adore, And justify the great disposing power. Divine advantage ! O immortal gain! Why should my fond, ungrateful heart complain? Whate'er of beauty in his ample round The fun surveys, in thee is brighter found; Whate'er the skies, in all their splendid coft, Their beamy pride, and majesty can boast; Whate'er the reftless mind of man defires; Whate'er an angel's vafter thought admires; In thee 'tis found in its unchanging height, Thou first great spring of beauty and delight! What have I lost of excellent, or fair, Of kind, or good, that thou canst not repair? What have I loft of truth or amity, But what deriv'd its gentle source from thee?
What is there here of excellence or grace,
Which one bright smile from thee would not efface?
At one kind look, one fparkling glance of thine,
Created pride must languish and decline.
'Tis done, at last, the great deciding part !
The world's fubdu'd, and thou hast all my heart;
It pants for joys which that can ne'er bestow,
And spreads itself too wide for all below;
It leaves the vast creation far behind,
And presses forward free and unconfin'd;
I fee a boundless prospect still before,
And dote upon my former joys no more;
Celestial paffions kindle in my soul,
And every low, inglorious thought controul.
O come! ye sacred gusts, ye pure delights,
Ye heavenly sounds, ye intellectual sights;
Ye gales of paradise that lull to rest,
And fill with filent calms the peaceful breast;
With you, transporting hopes, that boldly rise,
And swell, in blissful torrents, to the skies;
That foar with angels on their splendid wings,
And search th' arcana of celestial things.
Here let me dwell, and bid the world adieu,
And still converse, ye glorious scenes, with you.
Keep far away, for ever far from hence,
Ye gaudy shews, and flatt'ring snares of sense :
Ye gay varieties on earth, adieu !
However soft, and pleasing to the view :
And all ye dazzling wonders of the skies,
Ev'n you my now aspiring thoughts despise;