To scourge us with due sense of its abuse,
The same astonishment will seize us all.
What then must pain us would preserve us now. 2400
Lorenzo! 'tis not yet too late. Lorenzo!
Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wise;
That is, seize Wisdom ere she seizes thee.
For what, my small philosopher! is hell?
"Tis nothing but full knowledge of the truth,
When Truth, resisted long, is sworn our foe,
And calls Eternity to do ner right.
Thus darkness aiding intellectual light,
And sacred Silence whispering truths divine,
And truths divine converting pain to peace,
My song the midnight raven has outwing'd,
And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes,
Beyond the flaming limits of the world
Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight
Of Fancy, when our hearts remain below?
Virtue abounds in flatterers and foes;
"Tis pride to praise her, penance to perform.
To more than words, to more than worth of tongue, Lorenzo rise, at this auspicious hour,
An hour when Heaven's most intimate with man;
When, like a falling star,
Glides swift into the bosom of the just;
And just are all, determined to reclaim ;
Which sets that title high within thy reach.
Awake, then; thy Philander calls: awake!
Thou, who shalt wake when the Creation sleeps;
When, like a taper, all these suns expire;
When Time, like him of Gaza in his wrath,
Plucking the pillars that support the world,
In Nature's ample ruins lies entomb'd,
And midnight, universal midnight! reigns.
FROM lofty themes, from thoughts that soar'd on high,
And open'd wondrous scenes above the sky,
My Muse! descend: indulge my fond desire;
With softer thoughts my melting soul inspire,
And smooth my numbers to a female's praise :
A partial world will listen to my lays
While Anna reigns, and sets a female name
Unrival'd in the glorious lists of fame.
Hear, ye fair daughters of this happy land!
Whose radiant eyes the vanquish'd world command,
Virtue is beauty; but when charms of mind
With elegance of outward form are join'd;
When youth makes such bright objects still more bright
And Fortune sets them in the strongest light,
'Tis all of heaven that we below may view, And all but adoration is your due.
Famed female virtue did this isle adorn
Ere Ormond, or her glorious Queen was born :
When now Maria's powerful arms prevail'd,
And haughty Dudley's bold ambition fail'd,
The beauteous daughter of great Suffolk's race,
In blooming youth, adorn'd with every grace,
Who gain'd a crown by treason not her own,
And innocently fill'd another's throne,
Hurl'd from the summit of imperial state,
With equal mind sustain'd the stroke of Fate.
But how will Guilford, her far dearer part,
With manly reason fortify his heart?
At once she longs, and is afraid to know;
Now swift she moves, and now advances slow,
To find her lord; and, finding, passes by,
Silent with fear, nor dares she meet his eye,
Lest that, unask'd, in speechless grief disclose
The mournful secret of his inward woes :
Thus after sickness, doubtful of her face,
The melancholy virgin shuns the glass.
At length, with troubled thought, but look serene,
And sorrow soften'd by her heavenly mien,
She clasps her lord, brave, beautiful, and young,
While tender accents melt upon her tongue;
Gentle and sweet, as vernal zephyr blows,
Fanning the lily, or the blooming rose :
'Grieve not, my lord; a crown, indeed, is lost, What far outshines a crown we still may boast; A mind composed, a mind that can disdain
A fruitless sorrow for a loss so vain.
Nothing is loss that virtue can improve
To wealth eternal, and return above;
Above, where no distinction shall be known
"Twixt him whom storms have shaken from a throne,
And him who, basking in the smiles of Fate,
Shone forth in all the splendour of the great :
Nor can I find the difference here below;
I lately was a queen; I still am so,
While Guilford's wife: thee rather I obey,
Than o'er mankind exter.d imperial sway.
When we lie down in some obscure retreat,
Incensed Maria may her rage forget;
And I to death my duty will improve,
And what, you miss in empire, add in love-
Your godlike soul is open'd in your look,
And I have faintly your great meaning spoke.
For this alone I'm pleased I wore the crown,
To find with what content we lay it down.
Heroes may win, but 'tis a heavenly race
Can quit a throne with a becoming grace.'
Thus spoke the fairest of her sex, and cheer'd Her drooping lord, whose boding bosom fear'd A darker cloud of ills would burst, and shed Severer vengeance on her guiltless head.
Too just, alas! the terrors which he felt:
For, lo! a guard !-forgive him if he melt-
How sharp her pangs, when sever'd from his side,
The most sincerely loved and loving bride
In space confined, the Muse forbears to tell;
Deep was her anguish, but she bore it well:
His pain was equal, but his virtue less ;
He thought in grief there could be no excess.
Pensive he sat, o'er cast with gloomy care,
And often fondly clasp'd his absent fair;
Now, silent, wander'd through his rooms of state,
And sicken'd at the pomp, and tax'd his fate,
Which thus adorn'd, in all her shining store,
A splendid wretch, magnificently poor.
Now on the bridal bed his eyes were cast,
And anguish fed on his enjoyments past;
Each recollected pleasure made him smart,
And every transport stabb'd him to the heart.
That happy moon which summon'd to delight,
That moon which shone on his dear nuptial night, 90 Which saw him fold her yet untasted charms (Denied to princes) in his longing arms,
Now sees the transient blessing fleet away,
Empire and love the vision of a day.
Thus, in the British clime, a suminer storm
Will oft the smiling face of heaven deform;
The winds with violence at once descend,
Sweep flowers and fruits, and nake the forest bend; A sudden winter, while the Sun is near,
O'ercomes the season, and inverts the year.
But whither is the captive borne away,
The beauteous captive! from the cheerful day?
The scene is changed indeed; before her eyes
Ill boding looks and unknown horrors rise:
For pomp and splendour, for her guard and crown,
A gloomy dungeon, and a keeper's frown:
Black thoughts each morn invade the lover's breast. Each night a ruffian locks a queen to rest.
Ah, mournful change, if judged by vulgar minds!
But Suffolk's daughter its advantage finds.
Religion's force divine is best display'd
in deep desertion of all human aid;
To succour in extremes is her delight,
And cheer the heart when terror strikes the sight.
We, disbelieving our own senses, gaze,
And wonder what a mortal's heart can raise
To triumph o'er misfortunes, smile in grief,
And comfort those who come to bring relief.
We gaze, and as we gaze, wealth, fame decay,
And all the world's vain glories fade away.
Against her cares she raised a dauntless mind,
And with an ardent heart, but most resign'd,
Deep in the dreadful gloom, with pious heat,
Amid the silence of her dark retreat,
Address'd her God-'Almighty Power Divine!
'Tis thine to raise, and to depress is thine;
With honour to light up the name unknown,
Or to put out the lustre of a throne.
In my short span both fortunes I have proved,
And though with ill frail nature will be moved,
I'll bear it well (O strengthen me to bear!)
And if my piety may claim thy care,
If I remember'd, in youth's giddy heat,
And tumult of a court, a future state;
O favour, when thy mercy I implore,
For one who never guilty sceptre bore!
'Twas I received the crown; my lord is free
If it must fall, let vengeance fall on me :
Let him survive, his country's name to raise,
And in a guilty land to speak thy praise!
O may the' indulgence of a father's love,
Pour'd forth on me, be doubled from above!
If these are safe, I'll think my prayers succeed,
And bless thy tender mercies whilst I bleed.'
'Twas now the mournful eve before that day In which the queen to her full wrath gave way
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