Raising to me their sweet affectionate eyes, St Leon-still I love to breathe his name, (Enter St Leon.) ST LEON. Once more returned-I hasten to receive Affections sweet-thy beautiful embrace. MARGUERITE. 'Tis well-quite well! Time hung a little heavy as it should, In absence such as thine-of thee I thought, Thy danger in the storm-and sighed and prayed- ST LEON. Sweet minister of comfort! who can see (Starting wildly.) I see I know I feel myself accursed; The demons shout it in my ears;— Hark! they exulting laugh at my despair;- • Father, I hunger,'-that one nears the grave- Whilst thou ·(Becoming calm.) I see thee as an angel rise, Smiling forgiveness; nearer, and nearer still- To wet thy bosom with my guilty tears ;- DESPONDENCY. Oppressed with grief, oppressed with care, A burden more than I can bear, I sit me down and sigh; O life! thou art a galling load, To wretches such as I! Too justly I may fear! Still caring, despairing, Must be my bitter doom; My woes here shall close ne'er, But with the closing tomb! Alastor. Happy ye sons of busy life, Who, equal to the bustling strife, Even when the wished end's denied, Meet every sad returning night, Find every prospect vain. How blest the solitary's lot, Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot, Within his humble cell, The cavern wild with tangling roots, Sits o'er his newly-gathered fruits, Beside his crystal well! Or, haply, to his evening thought, By unfrequented stream, The ways of men are distant brought, A faint collected dream! While praising, and raising His thoughts to heaven on high, He views the solemn sky. Than I, no lonely hermit placed The lucky moment to improve, And just to stop and just to move, With self-respecting art: But ah! those pleasures, loves, and joys, Which I too keenly taste, The solitary can despise, Oh! enviable early days, When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze, To care, to guilt unknown! How ill exchanged for riper times, To feel the follies, or the crimes, Of others, or my own! |