For me, no more the path invites

Ambition loves to tread ; No more I climb those toilsome heights

By guileful Hope misled; Leaps my fond Auttering heart no more

To Mirth’s enlivening strain; For present pleasure soon is o'er,

And all the past is vain.

ODE VIII.

THE

HERMIT'S VISION.

BY THE REV. THOMAS PENROSE.

Mildly beam'd the

queen

of night, Sailing thro' the grey serene : Silver'd by her modest light,

But faintly shone the solitary scene, With deep’ning shadows mixt, and glitt'ring breaks

between.

High on a cliffy steep, o'erspread

With many an oak, whose ancient head

Did in its neighbour's top itself inwreath, And cast an umbered gloom and solemn awe beneath.

High on a cliffy steep a Hermit sat,

Weighing in his weaned mind
The various turns of mortal fate,

The various woes of human kind;
Meek Pity's pearl oft started in his eye,
And many a pray'r he pour'd, and heav'd a frequent

sigh.

Silent was all around,

Save when the swelling breeze

Convey'd the half-expiring sound
Of distant waterfalls, and gently-waving trees.

No tinkling folds, no curfew's parting knell

Struck the sequester'd Anchoret's ear ;

Remote from men he scoop'd his narrow cell, For much he had endur'd, no more he look”d to fear,

But still, the world's dark tempests past,

What tho' his skiff was drawn to shore,
And shelter'd in retirement fast,

Yet oft his voyage he'd ponder o'er;
Oft in reflection life's rough ocean view,
How mount the stormy waves, how hard to struggle

through!

Before his sage revolving eyes
Various phantoms seem’d to rise,
Now retreat, and now advance,
And mazy twine the mystic dance.

Joy led the van, in rapture wild,

Thoughtless of the distant day;
Sweet Complacence, angel mild,

Hied from the frantic pageant far away ;
For she was Wisdom's favour'd child,

In revelry untaught to stray.

Joy led the van-her painted vest,

Flowing to th' obsequious wind,
Hope had seiz'd, with flutt'ring breast,

And eager tripp'd behind.

a

Gay she stepp'd, till busy Fear
Whisper'd in her startled ear
“How many a cup is dash'd with gall,

“ How many an evil may befall!"

Aghast awhile she heard the ruthful song, Then faster seiz'd the robe, and hastier danc'd along.

Close Love follow'd in the train,
Love, the queen of pleasing pain :
Placid now in dear delight,
Madd’ning now in deep affright,
And prying keen with jaundic'd eye,
Pierc'd by the sting of hell-born Jealousy.

'Twixt Pride and lust of Grandeur led,
Next Ambition rear'd her head,
By Fhrenzy urg'd o’er every bar to rise,

And seize the visionary prize :
Wild as she rush'd, she scorn’d to mark the ground,
Yet many a slip she made, and many a fall she found.

Pale as the waning moon,

With tear-stain's cheek and stupid gaze, Withering before life's sunny noon,

Grief crept along in sad amaze,

By many a stroke to keenest misery brought,
Now in a shower dissolv'd, now lost in inward thought.

a

As the rous'd Tiger gaunt and fell

Kindles into cruel rage,
With flashing glare and murd'rous yell-

Thus Anger past th' ideal stage,

Too fierce for wounds or groans to feel, Onward she sprung, and shook the bloody steel.

While far behind, with silent pace and slow,
Malice was content to go,

Patient the distant hour to wait,
And hide with courteous smiles the blackest hate.

Secret long her wrath she'd keep, 'Till time disarm’d the foe, then drove lier poniard

deep:

To Malice link'd, as near allied,

Envy march'd with baneful lour;
Detraction halted by her side,

Upheld by Falshood's feeble power.

€ No more !--no more !" the holy Seer exclaim'd,

“ Passions wild, unbroke, untam’d,

“ Must sure the human heart o'erthrow, “ And plunge in all the energy of woe.

Grant then the boon, all-gracious Heav'n, “ Let reason ever take the helm ;