Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood,

And ply in caves th' unutterable trade,

'Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood, Yell in the midnight storm, or ride th' infuriate flood.

XLV.

But when to horror his amazement rose,
"A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse,
A tale of rural life, a tale of woes,

The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce.
Oh, cruel! will no pang of pity pierce

That heart, by lust of lucre sear'd to stone?
For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse,

To latest times shall tender souls bemoan
Those hopeless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.

XLVI.

Behold, with berries smear'd, with brambles torn,* The babes now famish'd lay them down to die : Amidst the howl of darksome woods forlorn, Folded in one another's arms they lie,;

Nor friend nor stranger hears their dying cry; "For from the town the man returns no more.' But thou, who Heaven's just vengeance dar'st defy, This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore, When death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store.

XLVII.

A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy

Brighten'd one moment Edwin's starting tear,
"But why should gold man's feeble mind decoy,
And innocence thus die by doom severe ?"
O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere,
Th' assaults of discontent and doubt repel :
Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere;
* See the fine old ballad, called "The Children in the Wood."

But let us hope; to doubt is to rebel ;

Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well.

XLVIII.

Nor be thy generous indignation check'd,
Nor check'd the tender tear to Misery given;
From Guilt's contagious power shall that protect,
This soften and refine the soul for heaven.

But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt has driven
To censure Fate, and pious Hope forego :
Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven,
Perfection, beauty, life, they never know,
But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe.

XLIX.

Shall he whose birth, maturity, and age,
Scarce fill the circle of one summer day,
Shall the poor gnat, with discontent and rage,
Exclaim that Nature hastens to decay,
If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray,
If but a momentary shower descend!

Or shall frail man Heaven's dread decree gainsay,
Which bade the series of events extend

Wide through unnumber'd worlds, and ages without

end !

L

One part, one little part, we dimly scan

Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream; Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,

If but that little art incongruous seem.

Nor is that part perhaps what mortals deem;
Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise.
Oh, then renounce that impious self-esteem,
That aims to trace the secrets of the skies!
For thou art but of dust; be humble, and be wise.

LL.

Thus Heaven enlarged his soul in riper years.
For Nature gave him strength, and fire, to soar
On Fancy's wing above this vale of tears;
Where dark cold-hearted sceptics, creeping, pore
Through microscope of metaphysic lore:

And much they grope for Truth, but never hit.
For why? Their powers, inadequate before,
This idle art makes more and more unfit;

Yet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders

wit.

LII.

Nor was this ancient Dame a foe to mirth.

Her ballad, jest, and riddle's quaint device

Oft cheer'd the shepherds round their social hearth; Whom levity or spleen could ne'er entice To purchase chat or laughter at the price Of decency. Nor let it faith exceed, That Nature forms a rustic taste so nice. Ah! had they been of court or city breed, Such delicacy were right marvellous indeed.

LIII.

Oft when the winter storm had ceased to rave,
He roam'd the snowy waste at even, to view
The cloud stupendous, from th' Atlantic wave
High-towering, sail along th' horizon blue:
Where, midst the changeful scenery, ever new,
Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries,
More wildly great than ever pencil drew,
Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size,
And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise.

LIV.

Thence musing onward to the sounding shore,
The lone enthusiast oft would take his way,

Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar
In black array

Of the wide-weltering waves.

When sulphurous clouds roll'd on th' autumnal day, Even then he hasten'd from the haunt of man,

Along the trembling wilderness to stray,

What time the lightning's fierce career began, And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran.

LV.

Responsive to the sprightly pipe, when all

In sprightly dance the village youth were join'd,
Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall,

From the rude gambol far remote reclined,
Soothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind.
Ah then, all jollity seem'd noise and folly,

To the pure soul by Fancy's fire refined!

Ah, what is mirth but turbulence unholy,

When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy!

LVL

Is there a heart that music cannot melt?
Alas! how is that rugged heart forlorn;

Is there, who ne'er those mystic transports felt
Of solitude and melancholy born?

He needs not woo the Muse; he is her scorn.

The sophist's rope of cobweb he shall twine;

Mope o'er the schoolman's peevish page; or mourn,

And delve for life in Mammon's dirty mine;

Sneak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton swine.

LVIL

For Edwin Fate a nobler doom had plann'd ;
Song was his favourite and first pursuit.
The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand,
And languish'd to his breath the plaintive flute.

Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar
Of the wide weltering waves. In black array,
When sulphurous clouds roll'd on th' autumnal day.
-The Mins rel, page 22.