And here and there, on trees by lightning fcath'd, The funeral dirge they down the torrent rowl'd. Had doom'd themselves; whence oft, when night controul'd The world, returning hither, their fad fpirits howl'd. Meantime, a moving fcene was open laid; Soon as of facred light th' unwonted smile Thro' the drear caverns, ftretching many a mile, The fick up-rais'd their heads, and dropp'd their woes awhile, • O Heaven!' they cry'd, and do we once more see Brought to the brink of hell, what hope remains? • Repentance does itself but aggravate our pains.' The gentle knight, who faw their rueful cafe, Let fall adown his filver beard fome tears. 2 Certes, quoth he, it is not even in grace 'I' undo the past, and eke your broken years; Nathlefs, Nathlefs, to nobler worlds Repentance rears • With humble hope her eye: to her is given $ A power the truly contrite heart that chears; She quells the brand by which the rocks are riven; She more than merely foftens, she rejoices Heaven. Then patient bear the fufferings you have earn'd, • Doubt not you shall new creatures yet arife. • Till then you may expect in me to find • One who will wipe your forrow from your eyes; • One who will soothe your pangs, and wing you to the skies.' They filent heard, and pour'd their thanks in tears. For you,' refum'd the knight, with fterner tone, • Whofe hard dry hearts th' obdurate demon fears, • That villain's gifts will coft you many a groan; In dolorous manfion long you must bemoan His fatal charms, and weep your ftains away; • Till, foft and pure as infant goodness grown, You feel a perfect change; then who can fay • What grace may yet fhine forth in Heaven's eternal day?” This faid, his powerful wand he wav'd anew: The Charities, to wit, of rofy hue; Sweet Love their looks a gentle radiance lends, In which they bade each lenient aid be nigh, It was a worthy edifying fight, And gives to human-kind peculiar grace, To fee kind hands attending day and night, With tender ministry, from place to place: Wipe off the faint cold dews weak Nature sheds; Attended by a glad acclaiming train Of thofe he refcu'd had from gaping hell, Then turn'd the knight; and, to his hall again Soft-pacing, fought of Peace the mosfy cell; Yet down his cheeks the gems of pity fell, To see the helpless wretches that remain'd, There left thro' delves and defarts dire to yell. Amaz'd, their looks with pale difmay were stain'd; And, fpreading wide their hands, they meek repentance feign'd. But, ah! their fcorned day of grace was paft; For, horrible to tell! a desart wild Before them ftretch'd, bare, comfortless, and vaft, But fands abrupt on fands lay loosely pil'd... Thro' which they floundering toil'd with painful care, Whilft Phoebus fmote them fore, and fir'd, the cloudless air. Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs, The fadden'd country a grey waste appear'd, Where nought but putrid fteams, and neifome fogs For ever hung on drizzly Aufter's beard; Or elfe the ground, by piercing Caurus fear'd, Was jagg'd with froft, or heap'd with glazed fnow; Gaunt Beggary and Scorn, with many hell-hounds moe. The firft was with base dunghill rags yclad, Meantime foul fcurf and blotches him defile, The other was a fell, defpightful fiend, Hell holds none worse in bateful bower below; Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry, E'en fo, thro' Brentford town, a town of mud, The filthy beafts, that never chew the cud, Still grunt, and fqueak, and fing their troublous song; Makes them renew their unmelodious moan, то TO A GENTLEMAN, ON HIS INTENDING TO CUT DOWN A GROVE TO ENLARGE HIS PROSPECT. BY MISS CARTER. N plaintive founds, that tun'd to woe The fadly-fighing breeze, A weeping Hamadryad mourn'd Her fate-devoted trees. Ah! ftop thy facrilegious hand, Nor violate the fhade, • Where Nature form'd a filent haunt • Canft thou, the fon of fcience, bred • Forget that, nurs'd in fhelt'ring groves, • Within the plantane's fpreading fhade, And fair Lyceum form'd the depth To Latian groves reflect thy views, • Where Eloquence deplor'd the fate 6 ⚫ Of Liberty and Rome. • Retir'd |