THE PILGRIM. I AM a weary Pilgrim, on my way Silent, forlorn, and faint of heart, I stray, And long to pass the brink-it must not be— He, at whose voice the vivid lightnings flee, And the loud thunders cease, hath plac'd me here; And sooner may yon sun desert his sphere, Those orbs unbidden shoot their course from Heav'n, Than I, by fell despair and madness driv❜n, Plunge headlong in that dark mysterious seaLet Heav'n's own mandate set the pris'ner free. Has life no higher end than joys of sense, In his frail image, once the bright attire How grand the contemplation! how sublime Shall rise refulgent like those orient beams— Enough for me the gracious promise giv'n, Yet mindful of thy goodness, I implore Thee, my eternal Father and my Friend, Ere I am summon'd hence, and seen no more, Patience and consolation thou wouldst send; Grant me a blameless life, a peaceful end, For bliss I may not ask this side the tombYet for thy mercy's sake, dispel the gloom That clouds my spirit-make this shining frame, This world of joy, prosperity, and fame, Less dark to me, and desolate appear, As long as 'tis thy will I linger here. To die is painful only when we part From those by friendship, nature, kindred dear; These bind, with adamantine chain, the heart, And give to death its terrors-how severe To leave the few we lov'd and valued here, To buffet with the world, and bear its frown! Friend of the fatherless! look pitying down On those I leave behind! be thou their stay, Their guardian, guide thro' life's eventful day; Let fate on them with milder influence shine, Nor wound their hearts as it has wounded mine. THE PENITENT. SCENE.-The Chamber of Death. ATTENDANT.-PENITENT. Att. AND hast thou drain'd the poison'd bowl? Speak, pallid victim of despair! Remorse and horror shake thy soul For hidden guilt too strong to bearAnd what a bitter groan was there! Ah! sure thy crime is dark and deepIf hell hath terrors, breathe a pray'r ; If heav'n hath joys, repent and weep. Pen. O torture not my bleeding breast, Nor add to death a pang more keen; The sleep eternal how serene, That brings oblivion to my woe!Att. But there's. an awful gulf between, Which thou must pass, or sink below. Pen. Disciples of the Atheist creed Exult, your victim here behold! Applaud the hand, approve the deed; Your lesson teaches to be bold! With you, ye philosophic train, New schemes I form'd, new systems try'd, With erring reason for my guide: I flew, to quiet my alarms, Where joy the sparkling goblet crown'd; The cares of dull existence drown'd: How chang'd the scene,-yon glorious sun, |