O horrid State! Weep Eyes, and bleed O Heart! (Borg. Let Nature burft with thefe unheard of Suff'rings. Lee, Caf. What other Remedy has Nature left

For Ills, beyond a Cure, but welcome Death?
Death ends our Sorrows, and begins our Joys?
Why fhou'd the Wretched live?

Curft, as I am, to Mifery and Sorrow!
Better to die, than linger out in Pain ;

Let thofe the World calls happy, wish to live :
My Happiness is not to be. Death is no Terrour,
Not to a Mind, loft in Despair like mine:

The Terrours of my Thoughts are worfe than Death?
A lafting Torment! Oh for fome skilful Pilot,
To fteer this little Voyage of my Life,
And land me fafe upon the peaceful Shore:
Why fhould a Wretch,

That groans beneath intolerable Woe,
Fear Death, his kind Redeemer. Den. Iphig.
The wretched Queen, purfu'd by cruel Fate,
Begins at length the Light of Heaven to hate,
And loaths to live.

(of Parma. Smith. P.

Stung with Defpight, and furious with Despair,
She ftruck her trembling Breast, and tore her Hair.
Then, finking underneath a Load of Grief,
From Death alone fhe feeks her laft Relief;
A mortal Palenefs in her Face appears. Dryd. Virg.
All elfe of Nature's common Gift partake;

Unhappy Dido was alone awake:

Nor Sleep nor Ease the furious Queen can find:
Sleep fled her Eyes, as Quiet fled her Mind:

Defpair, and Rage, and Love, divide her Heart :

(Virg.

Defpair and Rage had fome, but Love the greater, Part. Dryd.
In Change of Torment wou'd be Eafe :
Could you divine what Lovers bear,

Ev'n you, Prometheus, wou'd confefs,

(Ven.

There is no Vulture like Defpair. Lanfd. Jew of

Then, with the Wildness of her Soul let loofe,

And all the Fury that her Wrongs infufe,

She weeps, the raves, the rends her flowing Hair,
Wild in her Grief, and raging with Despair:

At length, her reftlefs Thoughts an Utt'rance find,

And vent the Anguifh of her lab'ring Mind. Yald. Strada.
And muft I drag a wretched Life beneath,
And endless Round of ftill returning Woes,
And all the gnawing Pangs of vain Remorfe;
Live above all moft infinitely wretched
Oh! 'tis in Death alone I can have Eafe.

(and Hip.. Smith. Phod.

Have I not Caufe to rave, and beat my Breaft,
To rend my Heart with Grief, and run distracted?
Talk not of Comfort; 'tis for lighter Ills:

Add. Cato.

I will indulge my Sorrows, and give Way
To all the Pangs and Fury of Defpair. Add. Cato.
'Tis not, in Fate to eafe my tortur'd Breaft:
This empry World, to me a joylefs Defart,
Has nothing left to make poor Marcia happy.
O Lucius, I am fick of this bad World:
The Day-light and the Sun grow painful to me. Add. Cato.
What's Life to him who has no Ufe of Life? (and Creff.
A barren Purchafe, held upon hard Terms. Dryd. Troil.
Comfort ús not, for Reafon 'tedious grows,

When fuch a Tide of Sorrow 'twou'd oppofe :
In our own Hands our Remedy we have;

(Corneill. For who dares die, may all Misfortunes brave. Orinda. He is not ruin'd who wou'd not be fav'd. Hig. Gen. Cong.

This one

(Pen.

Rowe. Pair

Relief the vanquish'd have, to hope for none. Denh. Virg.
Nothing to hope, I nothing have to fear. South.Fate of Cap.
Be dumb for ever; filent as the Grave;
Nor let thy fond officious Love disturb
My folemn Sadness with the Sound of Joy:
If thou wilt footh me tell fome difmal Tale
Of pining Difcontent, and black Defpair:
For, Oh! I've gone around thro' all my Thoughts,
But all are Indignation, Love, or Shame;
And my dear Peace of Mind is loft for ever.
Why do I wander this wide barren Waste,
Forfaken and forlorn; when a fair Profpect
Of everlafting Reft ftands right in View?
This Load of Woe, that bends me to the Ground,
I can with Life put off: Yes, I will rush
Into the Arms of Death, and fhelter there:
There fleep fecurely all my Cares away;
Nor fhall the Noife of Empire or of Love
Awaken me to Wretchedness again. South. Loy. Bro.
'Tis with me, as with one

Who, wand'ring over a wide barren Waste,
Views the laft Circles of the finking Sun;
Then gazing round, quite deftitute of Hope,
Forfaken and forlorn, fits fighing down,

To mix with Night, and entertain Defpair. South. Difapp.
O, let me hunt my travel'd Thoughts again;
Range the wide Wafte of defolate Defpair;

Start any Hope: Alas! I lofe my felf;

Tis pathlefs, dark, and barren all to me. South. Oroon.

My

My Torch is out: and the World ftands before me, Like a black Defart at th' Approach of Night:

(Love.

I'll lay me down, and ftray no further on. Dryd. All for I feel a Sleep like Death

Upon me, and I figh to be at Reft. Lee OEdip.

Chufe then the gloomieft Part through all the Grove, Throw thy abandon'd Body on the Ground,

With thy bare Breaft lie wedded to the Dew:

There, as thou drink'ft the Tears that trickle from thee,
So ftretch'd refolve to lie 'till Death fhall fieze thee :
Thy forrowful Head hung o'er fome tumbling Stream,
To rock thy Griefs with melancholy Sounds ;
With broken Murmurs, and redoubled Groans,
To help the Gurgling of the Water's Fall :
Or, if thy Paffion will not be kept in,

As in that Glafs of Nature thou shalt view

Thy fwol'n drown'd Eyes with the inverted Banks,
The Tops of Willows, and their Bloffomsturn'd
With all the under Sky ten Fathom down,
With that the Shadow of the swimming Globe
Were fo indeed, that thou might'st leapat Fate,
And hurlthy Fortune headlong at the Stars.
Nay, do not bear it: turn thy wat'ry Face
To yond' mifguided Orb, and ask the Gods,
For what bold Sin they doom the wretched Titus
To fuch a Lofs as that of Teraminta?

O Teraminta! I will groan thy Name,

'Till the tir'd Echo faint with Repetition;
'Till all the breathlefs Grove, and quiet Myrtles

(J. Brut. Shake with my Sighs, as if a Tempest bow'd them. Lee.L. Yes, yes, ye cruel Gods!

Let the eternal Bolts, that bind this Frame,

Start from their Order: Since you puth me thus,
Ev'n to the Margin of this wide Despair,

Behold I plunge at once in this Difhonour,

Where there is neither Shore, nor Hope of Heav'n ;

No floating Mark thro' all the dismal Vast;

'Tis rocklefs too, no Cliff to clamber up,

(Brut.

To gaze about, and paufe upon the Ruin: Lee. Luc. Jun. I'll to the Grave, and hide me :

Earth, open; or I'll tear thy Bowels up:

Ye Gods, dafh all at once

This Houfe of Clay into a Thoufand Pieces,
That my poor ling'ring Soul may take her Flight
To your immortal Dwellings. Lee. OEdip.

Fly, by the Gods or by the Fiends, I charge thee,
Far as the Eaft, West, North, or South of Heaven;

But

But think not thou shalt ever enter there;
The golden Gates are barr'd with Adamant,
'Gainft thee and me: and the celestial Guards,

Still, as we rife, will dafh our Spirits down. Lee OEdip.
Yes, with my Life, I'll expiate my Frenzy,
And die for thee, my headlong Rage destroy'd:
Thee I purfue, Oh Great ill-fated Youth,
Purfue thee ftill, but now with chafte Defires:
Thee thro' the difmal Waste of gloomy Death,
Thee thro' the glimm'ring Dawn, and purer Day,
Thro' all the Elyfian Plains. O righteous Minos!
Elyfian Plains! There he, and his Ifmena
Shall fport for ever, (hall for ever drink
Immortal Love; while I far off fhall howl
In lonely Plains; while all the blackest Ghosts
Shrink from the baleful Sight of one more monstrous,
And more accurft than they. Smith. Phoed. and Hip.
Let her, like me, of ev'ry Joy forlorn,

Devote the Hour when fuch a Wretch was born:
Like me, to Defarts, and to Darkness run;
Abhor the Day, and curfe the golden Sun;
Caft ev'ry Good, and ev'ry Hope behind;
Deteft the Works of Nature; loath Mankind;
Like me, with Cries diftracted fill the Air
Tear her poor Bofom, rend her frantick Hair;

And prove the Torments of the laft Despair. Rowe.J.Shore.
Despairing Lover.

Sad Damon, ftretch'd beneath an Olive Shade,
And wildly staring upwards, thus inveigh'd
Against the conscious Gods; and curs'd the cruel Maid.
Star of the Morning, why dost thou delay ?
Come Lucifer, drive on the lagging Day;
While I my Nifa's perjur'd Faith deplore:
Witnefs ye Pow'rs, by whom the falfely swore!
The Gods, alas! are Witneffes in vain :

Yet fhall my dying Breath to Heav'n complain :
Begin with me, my Flute, the fweet Menalian Strain.
Mopfus triumphs; he weds the willing Fair:

When fuch is Nifa's Choice, what Lover can despair?
Now Griffons join with Mares: Another Age
Shall fee the Hound and Hind their Thirst affwage,
Promifcuous at the Spring, Prepare the Lights,
O Mopfus, and perform the bridal Rites :
Scatter thy Nuts among the fcrambling Boys:
Thine is the Night, and thine the nuptia! Joys:
For thee the Sun declines: O happy Swain!

}

O Nifa,

O Nifa, juftly to thy Choice condemn'd;

Whom haft thou taken, whom haft thou contemn'd?
For him thou haft refus'd my browzing Herd;
Scorn'd my thick Eyebrows, and my fhaggy Beard:
Unhappy Damon fighs, and fings in vain;

While Nifa thinks no God regards a Lover's Pain:
I view'd thee firft; How fatal was the View!
And led thee where the ruddy Wildings grew,

Dew.

High on the planted Hedge, and wet with Morning
I faw, I perifh'd; yet indulg'd my Pain :

I know thee, Love; in Defarts thou wert bred,
And at the Dugs of favage Tigers fed:
Alien of Birth! Ufurper of the Plains!
Relentless Love the cruel Mother led,
The Blood of her unhappy Babes to fhed:
Love lent the Sword; the Mother struck the Blow:
Inhuman fhe, but more inhuman thou!

Old doating Nature, change thy Courfe anew;
And let the trembling Lamb the Wolf pursue:
Let Oaks now glitter with Hefperian Fruit;
And purple Daffodils from Alder fhoot;
Fat Amber let the Tamarisk diftil;

And hooting Owls contend with Swains in Skill:
Hoarfe Tit'rus ftrive with Orpheus in the Woods;
And challenge fam'd Arion on the Floods:
Or, oh! let Nature ceafe, and Chaos reign!
Let Earth be Seas; and let the whelming Tide
The lifeless Limbs of lucklefs Damon hide:
Farewel ye fecret Woods, and fhady Groves,
Haunts of my Youth, and confcious of my Loves!
From yon' high Cliff I plunge into the Main :
Take the laft Prefent of thy dying Swain

And ceafe, my filent Flute, the fweet Manalian Strain.

DEVIL.

Dryd. Virg.

Prince of the Thrones, who, in the Fields of Light,
Led'ft forth th'imbattel'd Seraphims to fight,
Who fhook the Pow'r of Heav'n's eternal State;
Had broke it too, if not upheld by Fate:

But now thofe Hopes are fled; thus low we lie,
Shut from this Day, and that contented Sky;

And loft, as far as heav'nly Forms can die.
Yet not all perifh'd; we defie him still,

(of Inn.

And yet wage War with our unconquer'd Will. Dryd. State