« EelmineJätka »
To what new clime, what distant sky,
When Athens sinks by fates unjust,
Shall cease to blush with strangers' gore:
See arts her savage sons controul,
And Athens rising near the pole!
'Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand, And civil madness tears them from the land.
Ye gods! what justice rules the ball?
Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves,
In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state!
Still, when the lust of tyrant pow'r succeeds,
CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS.
OH tyrant Love! hast thou possest
And arts but soften us to feel thy flame.
Love, soft intruder, enters here,
But ent'ring learns to be sincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,
Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire
Which Nature hath imprest?
The mild and gen'rous breast?
Love's purer flames the gods approve;
Brutus for absent Porcia sighs,
And sterner Cassius melts at Junia's eyes.
What is loose love? a transient gust,
Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Oh, source of ev'ry social tie,
United wish, and mutual joy!
What various joys on one attend,
As son, as father, brother, husband, friend!
While thousand grateful thoughts arise;
Or meets his spouse's fonder eye,
Or views his smiling progeny;
What tender passions take their turns,
What home-felt raptures move!
His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns, 35
Hence guilty joys, distastes, surmises,
Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine.
TO THE MEMORY OF
AN UNFORTUNATE LADY.
WHAT beck'ning ghost along the moon-light shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade? 'Tis she!....but why that bleeding bosom gor'd? Why dimly gleams the visionary sword? Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell, Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sky
For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
Who bade ye else, ye Pow'rs, her soul aspier