One with indulg'd, another frenzy leads,
Another and another yet fucceeds,
Till injur'd reafon abdicates her post,
And in the monfter all the man is loft.

Not fo, my friend, we pass the filent hours, In thefe fecluded woods and molly tow'rs. Here pure religion tolls our only bell, Here true devotion warms each humble cell; Here contemplation clears the clouded eye, Expands the foul, and lifts it to the fky; Propitious angels blefs our frequent calls, And faints who reft retir'd within thefe walls, Thefe, these alone our tottering steps attend, Confirm our faith, and hell's dark wiles forefend: On that curs'd night how black th' infernal fcene, When fiends ufurp'd my Laura's heavenly mien : They broke the clouds, they bade the ftorm retire, And all my bofom own'd celestial fire.

Il-fated Laura, bad I never known

Thy matchlefs form, I then had finn'd alone;
A length of years, fevereft penitence,
And hourly pray'rs might expiate my offence.

But you, alas! you faw the early tomb,
Unvers'd in heaven, in youth's intemperate bloom:
When flattering tongues impart deftructive fires,
And melt the yielding foul to loofe defires;
These warp the foul from virtue's awful flirine,
And well I know that heavy guilt was mine.
On that curs'd pride which obftinately blind
Seduces man, and rules the fofter kind,
Inflam'd by love, with guileful art I wrought,
And that thy mind against each tober thought;
O dire reflection! flattery fuppreft

The holy flame that should have fir'd thy breaft;
Religion elfe had lent her heav'nly grace,
And ftampt thy mind as beauteous as thy face;
Indulgent fain's thy lovely eyes had clos'd
In blits, and all thy foul with God repos'd.

"Thou traitor, falfeft of thy perjur'd race! (She fternly cries) haft ftol'n my foul from grace: "For thee I'm doom'd to bear an age of pain, "To call on heaven, and yet to call in vain; "Confin'd in night, I feel the fcorching flame, "Or bitter frofts congeal my tender frame;

"Or yok'd with dæmons, cleave the murky air,
"To banish rest, and fcatter wild despair:
"And doft thou, monfter, doft thou hope to win
"Eternal blifs, and leave me drown'd in fin?
"Forbid it truth, my ghoft hall meet thy eyes,
"And heav'n, juft heav'n will liften to my cries."

Ye hoary woods, and defolated cells,
Ye barren rocks, where favage horror dwells,
I'll brave your rage, if mercy can be wrought,
And tenfold pénitence erafe her fault.

Let fpring produce no herbage, fruit, nor flow'r,
Let haggard winter all the year devour
Where I fhall roam; let rains and tempests blow,
And owls and ravens fend the fcteam of wo:
Let thunder burst, let mountain torrents roar,
And wolves furround me on fome defart fhore:
Let curfes, plagues, diftempers on me fall-
Forgive but Laura, and I'll bear them all.

Mean while, dear friend, my fimple throud I spread
And now prepare my laft, and welcome bed;
Yon funeral torch, and flowly-moving bier,
Remind my foul that Death is ever near;
But Death to us no pallid terror brings,

We court his fcythe, and brave his feeble flings;
Rejoice to fee a brother gain the fkies,

The man we pitied, but the faint we prize.

Here, here my friend, my plain rough coffin ftands;
Prepar'd and wrought by thefe laborious hands;
It calms my fpirit, drives vain thoughts away,
And reconciles me to
my kindred clay;

I fleep in hope, I fpurn my follies paft,

And fondly with each fleep may prove my last;
Refign'd devotion o'er my cavern reigns,
And peace-except poor Laura intervenes.

But you, my friend, whom mortal paffion warms

To whom fair Italy expands her charms,

Who rove enamour' thro' the fragrant woods,
Or hang in raptures or the limpid floods;
Where foft Tibullus kindled loote defire,
And lofty Maro ftrung the epic lyre;

Immers'd in vain delights, perchance may deem
Thefe lines a frantic bigot's fickly dream :→→→

Alas

Alas! thou'rt wrong; correct thy fond mistake,
And, ere too late, my fober counsel take;
Difmifs thy follies, fet thy fpirit free

From fin and death, and tafte pure joys with me;
With thee in youth the p ths of vice I trod,
Indulg'd each appetite, nor thought of God;
For me its charms that flattering region spread,
And pleasure courted to her lufcious bed;
Where nature, rob'd in conftant beauty, fhines,
And still on nature polifh'd art refines;
Where clustering vines adorn the fruitful hills,
Ten thoufand flow'rets deck the crystal rills;
Sweet groves of myrtle fhade the blooming vale,
And loved rapture fwells each balmy gale;
Where beauty fpreads her heart-feducing fmiles,
And all the magic of Circean wiles;
The practis'd glances, the modulated lay,
That melts the foul, and charms the fenfe away;
Where arts on arts enormous vice difguife,
And fhew her pleafing e'en to fober eyes;
Till late remorfe in fqualid weeds appears,
His lean, wan vifage, drown'd in useless tears;
Reflection wakes, diftracted confcience wounds,
And grim defpair the proftrate wretch confounds.

Alas! my friend, how happier our repofe,
We feel the comforts peace with hope bestows,
Surrounding faints our humble cells defend,
And holy vifions on our fleep defcend,
Repeated prayers fin by fin deface,
And every hour we gain a step to grace;
Our only emulation to excel

In works of faith-But hold-I hear our bell-
Some friend, I ween, who flies this mortal ftrife,
And bends his courfe to everlafting life.

O matchlefs pow'r of unaffected grace,
E'en now a faint has clos'd his tedious race;
Celestial raptures fparkled in his eyes,
And fmiling angels bore him to the fkies;
My brother once, together oft we pray'd;
And oft conforted in the holy fhade,
Refembling fortune bade our fouls agree
In ftricter bonds, for he had lov'd like me;
Like me in vain; like me in youth retir'd:
All pitying heaven, had Laura thus expir'd

And

And what avails this tenement of clay !
Death hourly faps the bafe, and melts away:
All nature yields to his defpotic will,
And all the elements confpire to kill:
E'en whilft I write, a hecatomb expires,
All young, all vain, all forming new defires;
And now the fun emits a feeble ray
On yonder grove, and fhuns the parting day,
The world around an awful filence keeps,
And, as if dead, the whole creation fleeps.

I pant for heaven-avaunt my former fears!
When worlds are wreckt, and fpheres encounter fpheres,
When death refigns her empire o'er the ball,
All rature fioks, and time itse¦f must fall;
And foon, full foon, that awful day may come,
I'll burft my fhroud, and fly to Laura's tomb:
Then fhall that face, which, bafely rent away,
Alas! now lies with undistinguish'd clay,
Join'd to her form in primal beauty rife,
We'll foar to blifs, we'll feek the opening fkies,
There ftrong in hope our mutual paffions own,
And plead our loves at God's indulgent throne.

And if, my friend, you fought this bless'd retreat,
And icorn'd the world, my tranfports were compleat.
O hear the call, reject the vale of fin,

Collect thy foul, the glorious work begin,
I'll guide thy ftops, immortal truths impart,
And next to Laura place thee in my heart.

The HERMIT, a BALLAD, fuppofed to be written