No! let thy bosom melt to Pity's cry,- ANTISTROPHE II. Say, how shalt thou that barb'rous soul assume, When o'er each babe you look a last adieu, Charm thee to pensive thought-and bid thee weep? When the young suppliants clasp their parent dear, Heave the deep sob, and pour the artless prayer,— Ay! thou shalt melt;—and many a heart-shed tear Gush o'er the hardened features of despair! Nature shall throb in ev'ry tender string, Thy trembling heart the ruffian's task deny; Thy horror-smitten hands afar shall fling The blade, undrenched in blood's eternal dye! CHORUS. Hallowed Earth! with indignation Radiant eye of wide creation, Watch the damned parricide! Yet, ere Colchia's rugged daughter Shall the hand, with murder gory, In the vales of placid gladness Say, hast thou, with kind protection, Hast thou, on the troubled ocean, Didst thou roam the paths of danger, Shall not Heaven, with indignation LOVE AND MADNESS. AN ELEGY. Written in 1795. Hark! from the battlements of yonder tower* The solemn bell has tolled the midnight hour! Roused from drear visions of distempered sleep, Poor B―k wakes-in solitude to weep! Cease, Mem'ry cease (the friendless mourner cried) To probe the bosom too severely tried! Oh ever cease, my pensive thoughts, to stray Through the bright fields of Fortune's better day: When youthful hope, the music of the mind, Tuned all its charms, and E- ―n was kind! "Yet, can I cease, while glows this trembling frame, In sighs to speak thy melancholy name? I hear thy spirit wail in every storm! In midnight shades I view thy passing form! "Demons of Vengeance! ye at whose command I grasped the sword with more than woman's hand Say ye, did Pity's trembling voice control, of my soul? Or horror damp the purpose *Warwick Castle. "Yes; let the clay-cold breast, that never knew One tender pang to generous Nature true, Half mingling pity with the gall of scorn, Condemn this heart that bled in love forlorn! "And ye, proud fair, whose soul no gladness warms, Save Rapture's homage to your conscious charms! Delighted idols of a gaudy train ! Ill can your blunter feelings guess the pain, 66 Say, then, did pitying Heav'n condemn the deed, When Vengeance bade thee, faithless lover! bleed? Long had I watched thy dark foreboding brow, What time thy bosom scorned its dearest vow! Sad, though I wept the friend, the lover changed, Still thy cold look was scornful and estranged, Till from thy pity, love, and shelter thrown, I wandered hopeless, friendless, and alone! "Oh! righteous Heav'n! 'twas then my tortured soul First gave to wrath unlimited control! Adieu the silent look! the streaming eye! The murmured plaint! the deep heart-heaving sigh! Long slumb'ring Vengeance wakes to better deeds; He shrieks, he falls, the perjured Lover bleeds! Now the last laugh of agony is o'er, And pale in blood he sleeps, to wake no more! ""Tis done! the flame of hate no longer burns; Nature relents, but ah! too late returns! Why does my soul this gush of fondness feel? Trembling and faint, I drop the guilty steel! Cold on my heart the hand of terror lies, And shades of horror close my languid eyes! "Oh! 'twas a deed of Murder's deepest grain! Could B -k's soul so true to wrath remain? A friend long true, a once fond lover fell !— 66 Unhappy youth! while yon pale crescent glows, To watch on silent Nature's deep repose, Thy sleepless spirit, breathing from the tomb, "Soon may this fluttering spark of vital flame THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. ALONE by the banks of the dark rolling Danube What voice did I hear? 'twas my Henry that sighed! |