Let Wisdom fmile not on her conquer'd field; No rapture dawns, no treasure is reveal'd! 355 The doom that bars us from a better fate; But, fad as angels for the good man's fin, Weep to record, and blufh to give it in ' And well may Doubt, the mother of Dismay, Pause at her martyr's tomb, and read the lay, 360 Down by the wilds of yon deferted vale, It darkly hints a melancholy tale! There, as the homeless madman fits alone, In hollow winds he hears a spirit moan! And there, they fay, a wizard orgie crowds, 365 When the moon lights her watch-tower in the clouds. Poor, loft Alonzo! Fate's neglected child! Mild be the doom of Heav'n-as thou wert mild! For oh! thy heart in holy mould was cast, And all thy deeds were blameless, but the last. 370 Poor, loft Alonzo! ftill I feem to hear The clod that ftruck thy hollow-founding bier! When Friendship paid, in fpeechlefs forrow drown'd, Thy midnight rites, but not on hallow'd ground! Ceafe, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave-oh! leave-the light of Hope behind! What though my winged hours of blifs have been, Like angel-vifits, few, and far between! Her mufing mood fhall every pang appease, 375 And charm-when pleasures lofe the power to please! 380 Yes! let each rapture, dear to Nature, flee; Clofe not the light of Fortune's ftormy fea Mirth, Mufic, Friendship, Love's propitious finile, Ecftatic throbs the fluttering heart employ, 385 And all her ftrings are harmoniz'd to Joy!- No! not the quaint remark, the fapient rule, Nor all the pride of Wifdom's worldly school, Have pow'r to foothe, unaided and alone, The heart that vibrates to a feeling tone! When stepdame Nature every blifs recals, Fleet as the meteor o'er the defert falls; Say, can the world one joyous thought bestow What plaintive fobs thy filial spirit drew, What forrow chok'd thy long and last adieu, 395 400 405 Daughter of Conrad! when he heard his knell, And bade his country and his child farewell! The plaint that own'd unutterable woe; 410 415 Till Faith, prevailing o'er his fullen doom, As bursts the morn on night's unfathom❜d gloom, Beyond the realms of Nature and of Time! 420 "And weep not thus, (he cried) young Ellenore, My bofom bleeds, but foon fhall bleed no more! Short fhall this half-extinguifh'd fpirit burn, And foon these limbs to kindred duft return! |