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And now the letter'd present prest
With awful tremblings to her breast.
Instant the youths pursued their way:
Faster than time my story goes.
'Tis Fancy's bufiness to suppose
One of our youths in ermin’d state,
Now temp’ral minister of fate.
A culprit to the bar was brought,
By dint of words, whene’er she pleas’d.
“ Herself was once infirm, but still
She seems to lengthen life at will.
Behold, my Lord, the spell; tis here
To touch the cursed scroll I fear.”
« Peace, Sirs, and urge your charge no more,
For thus I quash her magic pow'r ;
(He, (He, smiling, faid) to me she owes
Whate'er of spells and charms she knows;
Woman, behold your guest in me,
Who taught this art, if art it be."
S RELIGION AND INFIDELITY.
OW fhone o'er heav'n the beams of dawning day,
And mounting larks had sung their matin lay,
When from a wood, with wild irregular hafte,
A female rush'd, and cross'd the trackless waste;
Fair seem'd her form, but frantic was her air;
Her robe, her tresses, torn, betray'd despair.
She started, stopt; her languid eye-balls stream’d
Where a deep brook in lonely windings stray’d.
Ś See the Adventurer, No. 77.
Here, on the willowy marge, she paus’d and cry’d,
" Dread Pow'r, if any pow'r in heav'n abide,
“ That deigns to mark what mortals feel below;
“ Take, take thy hated gift, a life of woe.
“ Has heav’n these passions with our souls ally'd,
« Yet bids fad Ruin wait at Error's side ?
« The love of right, a father's constant theme, « Still warms my breast, tho' wrung with guilt and
My grief-worn heart still bows at Virtue's shrine,
“ Still bends my will to Reason's rule divine :
“ Yet, where was Reason's, where was Virtue’s aid?
“ I lov’d, was lov'd; I trusted, was betray'd.
For this my name is toss’d on vulgar tongues, “ My fame all blasted, though unknown my wrongs. “ Friendless I rove; yet heav’n is pleas’d to shed « Its gayeft funshine on the perjur'd head.
« Complaints how vain! why does this life blood flow?
“Why throbs this pulfe, to wake my heart to woe? “ I go to still this anguish of the breast
« Be Death's cold arms my refuge and my rest.”
“ Ah! stop, (a voice exclaim’d) in ruin brave, « Rafhly you dare the terrors of the grave.”
Instant, a stranger sprung upon her view,
And from the brink her trembling footsteps drew.
« O lady! bow your soul to heav’n’s high will,
• Who scourges human pride with human ill.
“ If Reason, Reason only, were your trust, “ Well might you call man faultless, heav'n unjust ; « If Reason only lent her glimın’ring ray, « Well might the groveling slave of passion stray.
« But heav'n unfolds the steadier beams of grace,
“ And guides, through fin's dark night, our feet to
« Ah !
" Ah ! quench not then its beams in black despair.
“ God hears the heart-felt sigh and humble pray’r. « Oh! come with me, to prove Religion's pow'r,
“ How smiles the faint in mis’ry's saddest hour."
Thus as he spoke, the pious man had led
The mourner to his neat, but humble shed.
« Behold, (he cry'd) to pain and grief a prey,
My dearest spouse fast sinking to decay. « Childless, her bury'd offspring she deplores;
« A cancer now her feeble frame devours;
« Too ill our scanty means her wants supply,
« The nurse's care, and physic's aid deny.
" Yet mark, her breast no fretful murmur moves ;
« The Pow'r that wounds her, she adores and loves."
« Oh! teach me, teach me (the fair sceptic cry’d)