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Here nectar flows; it sparkles in our sight:
Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my song? Am I too warm?--Too warm I cannot be. I loved him much, but now I love him more. Like birds, whose beauties languish, half conceal'd, Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes Expanded, shine with azure, green, and gold; How blessings brighten as they take their fight! €00 His flight Philander took, his upward flight, If ever soul ascended. Had he dropp'd,
(That eagle genius!) O had he let fall
One feather as he flew, I then had wrote
What friends might flatter, prudent foes forbear, C03
Strange the theme most affecting, most sublime, 610
Dare I presume, then? but Philander bids,
And enter, awed, the ten pie of my theme.
The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of Heaven. Fly, ye profane! if not, draw near with awe, Receive the blessing, and adore the chance That threw in this Bethesda your disease: If unrestored by this, despair your cure ; For here resistless Demonstration dwells. A deathbed 's a detector of the heart! Here tired Dissimulation drops her mask, Through Life's grimace that mistress of the scene! Here real and apparent are the same.
You see the man, you see his hold on Heaven,
Heaven waits not the last moment; owns her friends
To Vice confusion, and to Virtue peace.
Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, Virtue alone has majesty in death; And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. Philander! he severely frown'd on thee. 'No warning given! unceremonious fate! A sudden rush from life's meridian joys! A wrench from all we love! from all we arc. A restless bed of pain! a plunge opaque Beyond conjecture! feeble Nature's dread! Strong Reason's shudder at the dark unknown! A sun extinguish'd! a just opening grave! And, oh the last, the last; what? (can words express, Thought reach it?) the last-silence of a friend!' Where are those horrors, that amazement, where This hideous group of ills which singly shock ? Deinand from man-I thought him man, till now. 664 Through Nature's wreck, through vanquish'd agonies
(Like the stars struggling through this midnight gloom)
Richer than Mammon's for his single heir.
How our hearts burn'd within us at the scene Whence this brave bound o'er limits fix'd to man? His God sustains him in his final hour!
His final hour brings glory to his God!
Man's glory Heaven vouchsafes to call her own.
As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow,
At that black hour which general horror sheds
TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF PORTLAND.
Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.
FROM dreams, where thought in Fancy's maze runs mad,
O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul; Who think it solitude to be alone. Communion sweet! communion large and high ! Our reason, guardian-angel, and our God! Then nearest these, when others most remote ; And all, ere long, shall be remote but these : How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone, A stranger! unacknowledged! unapproved! Now woo them, wed them, bind them to thy breast: 15
To win thy wish creation has no more:
Or if we wish a fourth, it is a friend.
But friends how mortal! dangerous the desire.
Take Phoebus to yourselves, ye basking bards!
Where Sense runs savage, broke from Reason's chain,
Thou who didst lately borrow Cynthia's* form,
A theme so like thee, a quite lunar theme,
A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul
At the Duke of Norfolk's masquerade.
In silent hour, address your ardent call
For aid immortal, less her brother's right.
If, like thy namesake, thou art ever kind.
And kind thou wilt be, kind on such a theme ;