Forbid it, Heaven!' the Hermit cry'd,. The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide, 'Twas Edwin's felf that prefs'd. ON 'Twas ere the blooming fweets of May Had loft their fresheft hues ; When every flower on every hill, In every vale, had drank it's fill And now beneath delighted pass, Where winding thro' the deep-green grafs A full-brimm'd river flow'd. I stop, I gaze; in accents rude, Burft forth th' unbidden lay: Be gone, vile world! the learn'd, the wife, And pity e'en the gay. These, these are joys alone,' I cry; 'Tis here, divine Philofophy, • Thou deign'ft to fix thy throne! • Here Contemplation points the road, Thro' Nature's charms, to Nature's God! These, these are joys alone! Adieu, ye vain low-thoughted cares, The tyrant paffions all fubfide, No more my bosom move; Of univerfal love. When, lo! a voice, a voice I hear ! 'Twas Reason whifper'd in my ear These monitory strains: • What • What mean'ft thou, man? would'st thou unbind • The ties which conftitute thy kind, The pleafures and the pains? • Shall light and fhade, and warmth and air, • With those exalted joys compare • Which active Virtue feels! < When on she drags, as lawful prize, Contempt, and Indolence, and Vice, At her triumphant wheels. 7 BY DR. BROWN. ENGEANCE, arise from thy infernal bed, Shook the dark abyfs profound. The unchain'd Furies come! Pale Melancholy ftalks from hell: Th' abortive offspring of her womb, By fleepless terror Saul poffefs'd, Deep feels the fiend within his tortur'd breaft. |