« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
These shall the fury Passions tear,
The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
And Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the secret heart; And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visag'd comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the 'tear it forc'd to flow; And keen Remorse, with blood defild, And moody Madness laughing wild
Amid severest wo.
Lo, in the vale of years beneath
A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of Death,
More hideous than their Queen ;
This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
Those in the deeper vitals rage:
And slow-consuming Age,
To each his sufferings : all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain,
Th’ unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more ;-where ignorance is bliss,
"Tis folly to be wise.
ODE TO ADVERSITY.
DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, amict the best !
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan
When first thy sire to 'send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design'd, To thee he gave the heav'nly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind. Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learnt to melt at others' wo.
Scard at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
And leave us leisure to be good.
By vain Prosperity receiv’d, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.
Wisdom in sable garb array'd,
Immers’d in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid,
With leaden eye that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend :
With Justice, to herself severe,
Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,
Dread Goddess, lay thy chast'ning hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen) With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.
Thy form benign, oh Goddess ! wear,
Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there
To soften, not to wound my heart. The generous spark extinct revive, Teach me to love, and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man. THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN.
FROM THE WELCH
Big with hosts of mighty name,