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So trusting, back the mourner flew,
As fast the train of fiends pursue.

Again the farther shore's attain'd,
Again the land of virtue gain'd;
But echo gathers in the wind,
And shews her instant foes behind.
Amaz’d with headlong speed the tends,
Where late fe left an host of friends :
Alas! those shrinking friends decline,
Nor longer own that form divine :
With fear they mark the following cry,
And from the lonely trembler fly,
Or backward drive her on the coast,
Where peace was wreck'd and honour loft,
From earth, thus hoping aid in vain,
To heav'n not daring to complain; .
No truce by hoftile clamour given,
And from the face of friendship driven,
The Nymph sunk proftrate on the ground,
With all her weight of woes around,

Enthron’d within a circling sky, Upon a mount, o'er mountains high, All radiant fat, as in a shrine, Virtue, first effluence divine ! Far, far above the scenes of woe, That shut this cloud-wrapt world below; Superior goddess, essence bright, Beauty of uncreated light, . Whom should mortality survey, As doom'd upon a certain day, The breath of frailty must expire, The world dissolve in living fire,

The gems of heav'n and solar fame
Be quench'd by her eternal beam,
And Nature, quick’ning in her eye,
To rise a new-born phænix, die.

Hence, unreveal'd to mortal view,
A veil around her form the threw,
Which three fad fifters of the shade,
Pain, Care, and Melancholy, made.

Through this, her all-enquiring eye,
Attentive from her station high,
Beheld, abandon’d to despair,
The ruins of her fav'rite fair;
And with a voice, whose awful found
Appal’d the guilty world around,
Bid the tumultuous winds be still,
To numbers bow'd each lift'ning hill,
Uncurl'd the surging of the main,
And smooth'd the thorny bed of pain ;
The golden harp of heav'n she strung,
And thus the tuneful goddess sung:-

Lovely Penitent, arife !
Come, and claim thy kindred kies ;
Come! thy sister angels say
Thou hast wept thy stains away.

Let experience now decide
"Twixt the good and evil try'd;
In the smooth, enchanted ground,
Say, unfold the treasures found.
Stru&ures, rais'd by morning dreams ;
Sands, that trip the fitting streams;

Down, that anchors on the air; Clouds, that paint their changes there; Seas, that smoothly dimpling lic, While the storm impends on high, Shewing, in an obvious glass, Joys, that in poffefsion pass; Transient, fickle, light, and gay, Flatt'ring, only to betray; What, alas, can life contain! Life! like all its circles-vain. Will the stork, intending rest, On the billow build her neft? Will the bee demand his store From the bleak and bladeless shore ? Man alone, intent to stray, Ever turns from wisdom's way; Lays up wealth in foreign land, Sows the sea, and ploughs the fand. Soon this elemental mass, Soon th' incumb'ring world shall pass; Form be wrapt in wafting fire, Time be spent, and life expire. Then, ye boasted works of men, Where is your afylum then? Sons of pleasure, fons of care, Tell me, mortals, tell me where ? Gone, like traces on the deep, Like a fceptre grafp'd in Neep, Dews exhal'd from morning glades, Melting Inows, and gliding Ihades.

Pass the world, and what's behind ?
Virtue's gold, by fire refin'd;
From an univerfe deprav’d, .
From the wreck of nature fav'd.
Like the life-supporting grain,
Fruit of patience, and of pain,
On the swain's autumnal day,
Winnow'd from the chaff away.
Little trembler, fear no more,

Thou hast plenteous crops in store; · Seed, by genial forrows Town,

More than all thy fcorners own. What though hostile earth despise, Heaven beholds with gentler eyes ; Heaven thy friendless steps shall guide, Cheer thy hours, and guard thy fide. When th' fatal trump fall found, When th’immortals pour around, Heaven shall thy return attest, Hail'd by myriads of the bless’d. Little native of the skies, Lovely Penitent, arise ! Calm thy bosom, clear thy brow, Virtue is thy fifter now. More delightful are my woes Than the rapture Pleasure knows; Richer far the weeds I bring, Than the robes that grace a king, On my wars, of shortest date, Crowns of endless triumph wait;

On my cares a period bless'd ;
On my toils eternal reft.
Come, with Virtue at thy side ;
Come, be ev'ry bar defy'd,
Till we gain our native shore;
Sister, came, and turn ao more.

GOLDSMITH.

EDWIN AND ANGELINA,

A BALLAD.

I URN, gentle Hermit of the dale, « And guide my lonely way, * To where yon taper cheers the vale

“ With hofpitable ray. * For here forhorn and loft I tread,

« With fainting steps and now; 6 Where wilds, immeasurably Spread,

“ Seem length’ning as I go." Forbear, my son,' the Hermit cries,

To tempt the dang’rous gloom ; * For yonder phantom only flies

• To lure thee to thy doom. < Here to the houseless child of want

• My door is open fill; * And though my portion is but scant,

* I give it with good will

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