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Let Wisdom fmile not on her conquer'd field;

No rapture dawns, no treasure is reveal'd!
Oh! let her read, nor loudly, nor elate,

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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,

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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,

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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.

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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,

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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,
Chafe every care, and charm a little while,

Ecftatic throbs the fluttering heart employ,

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And all her ftrings are harmoniz'd to Joy!-

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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;
When, 'reft of all, yon widow'd fire appears
A lonely hermit in the vale of years;

Say, can the world one joyous thought bestow
To Friendship, weeping at the couch of Woe?
No! but a brighter foothes the last adieu,—
Souls of impaffion'd mould, she speaks to you!
Weep not, she says, at Nature's transient pain,
Congenial fpirits part to meet again !—

What plaintive fobs thy filial spirit drew,

What forrow chok'd thy long and last adieu,

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Daughter of Conrad! when he heard his knell,

And bade his country and his child farewell!
Doom'd the long ifles of Sydney Cove to fee,
The martyr of his crimes, but true to thee.
Thrice the fad father tore thee from his heart,
And thrice return'd, to blefs thee, and to part;
Thrice from his trembling lips he murmur'd low

The plaint that own'd unutterable woe;

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Till Faith, prevailing o'er his fullen doom,

As bursts the morn on night's unfathom❜d gloom,
Lur'd his dim eye to deathlefs hopes fublime,

Beyond the realms of Nature and of Time!

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"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!

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