O, let me all thy steps attend!
I'll point new treasures to thy fight; • Whether the grove thy wish befriend, • Or hedge-rows green, or meadows bright.
• I'll shew my love the cleareft rill,
• Whose streams among the pebbles fray; • These will we fip, and fip our fill, < Or on the flow'ry margin play.
• When prompted by a mother's care,
. Her warmth fhall form th' imprison'd young, The pleasing task I'll gladly share,
• Or chear her labours with my fong.
To bring her food I'll range the fields,
And cull the best of ev'ry kind;
. Whatever Nature's bounty yields,
< And love's affiduous care can find.
And when my lovely mate would stray
To taste the summer sweets at large,
I'll wait at home the live-long day,
And tend with care our little charge.
Then prove with me the sweets of love,
• With me divide the cares of life;
No bufh fhall boast in all the grove
So fond a mate, fo blefs'd a wife.”
He ceas'd his fong. The melting dame
With foft indulgence heard the strain ;*
She felt, fhe own'd, a mutual flame,
And hafted to relieve his pain.
He led her to the nuptial bower,
And neftled closely to her fide;
The fondeft bridegroom of that hour,
And the the moft delighted bride.
Next morn he wak'd her with a song ;
Behold,' he faid, the new-born day!
The lark his matin peal has rung,
Arife, my love, and come away."
Together thro' the fields they ftray'd,
And to the murm'ring riv'let's fide;
Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd and play'd,
With honeft joy, and decent pride."
When, oh! with grief the Mufe relates
The mournful fequel of my tale;
Sent by an order from the Fates,
A gunner met them in the vale.
Alarm'd, the lover cry'd, My dear,
Hafte, hafte away, from danger fly!
Here, gunner! point thy thunder here
• O, fpare my love, and let me die!'
At him the gunner took his aim ;
His aim, alas! was all too true: O! had he chose fome other game! Or fhot-as he was wont to do!
Divided pair! forgive the wrong,
While I with tears your fate rehearse;
I'll join the widow's plaintive fong,
And fave the lover in my verfe.
Or moments pass with filent lapfe,
And time to me fhall be no more;
No more the fun these eyes shall view,
Earth o'er these limbs her duft shall strew,
And life's fantaftick dream be o'er.
Alas! I touch the dreadful brink;
From Nature's verge impell'd I fink;
And endless darkness wraps me round !
Yes, Death is ever at my hand,
Faft by my bed he takes his ftand,
And conftant at my board is found.
Earth, air, and fire, and water, join
Against this fleeting life of mine;
And where for fuccour can I fly?
If art, with flatt'ring wiles, pretend
To fhield me like a guardian friend,
By Art, ere Nature bids, I die.
I fee this tyrant of the mind,
This idol Flesh, to duft confign'd,
Once call'd from duft by Pow'r divine;
It's features change! 'tis pale! 'tis cold-
Hence, dreadful fpectre! to behold
Thy afpect, is to make it mine.
And can I, then, with guilty pride,
Which fear nor fhame can quell or hide,
This flesh ftill pamper and adorn!
Thus viewing what I foon fhall be,
Can what I am demand the knee,
Or look on aught around with fcorn ?
But then this fpark that warms, that guides,
That lives, that thinks, what fate betides!
Can this be duft, a kneaded clod!
This yield to death! the foul, the mind,
That measures heav'n, and mounts the wind,
That knows, at once, itself and God?
Great Caufe of all, above, below,
Who knows thee, muft for ever know,
Immortal and divine!
Thy image on my foul imprefs'd,
Of endless being is the teft,
And bids eternity be mine!
Tranfporting thought!—but am I fure
That endless life will joy fecure?
Joy's only to the juft decreed!
The guilty wretch expiring, goes
Where Vengeance endless life bestows,
That endless mis'ry may fucceed.
Great God, how awful is the scene!
A breath, a tranfient breath between ;
And can I jeft, and laugh, and play!
To earth, alas! too firmly bound,
Trees deeply rooted in the ground,
Are shiver'd when they're torn away.
Vain joys, which envy'd greatnefs gains,
How do ye bind with filken chains,
Which afk Herculean ftrength to break!
How with new terrors have ye arm'd
The pow'r whose slightest glance alarm'd!
How many deaths of one ye make!
Yet, dumb with wonder, I behold
Man's thoughtless race, in error bold,
Forget or scorn the laws of death;
With these no projects coincide,
Nor vows, nor toils, nor hopes, they guide,
Each thinks he draws immortal breath.
Each, blind to Fate's approaching hour,
Intrigues or fights for wealth or pow'r,
And flumb'ring dangers dare provoke:
And he, who, tott'ring, fcarce fuftains
A century's age, plans future gains,
And feels an unexpected stroke.
Go on, unbridled, defp'rate band,
Scorn rocks, gulphs, winds, search sea and land,
And spoil new worlds, wherever found:
Seize, hafte to seize the glitt'ring prize,
And fighs, and tears, and pray'rs, despise,
Nor fpare the temple's holy ground.
They go, fucceed; but look again,
The defp'rate band you feek in vain,
Now trod in duft, the peasant's fcorn?
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